mom’s magic I’d been fighting. I’d fought Layla’s, too.
My mom said I’d always had migraines. I was eleven when the headaches hit with regularity. I’d talked my mom into tai chi classes. I’d studied the moves in one of the library books I brought home, after Layla had begun talking about the class she was in.
In the tai chi class, I hadn’t learned much more than the basic forms, which was too bad. Tai chi, like many of the martial arts, was supposed to help with control—something I’d always craved. Instead, I learned just how cruel preteen girls could be.
I’d been teased relentlessly about my petite frame—I was multiple inches shorter than the next girl. One, who was also eleven, towered over me by at least eight inches.
“You’re a sad little echo,” the girls used to laugh as they surrounded me, spinning. I’d fisted my hands and blinked back tears. “A sad little echo no one ever wanted,” they’d say. How they knew I didn’t have a father, I never knew, but I hated them for their comments.
The more the girls teased me, the more my head hurt. And then one day, I got black spots swimming in my periphery and I’d vomited all over the tall girl. She’d shrieked, crushing my skull with her high-pitched wail until I passed out. I’d never gone back to another tai chi class, but I still thought back on that moment as one of my best, regardless of the pain I’d endured.
Shaking my head as much to negate the feelings as to squash the memories, I gritted out, “You lied to me.” My tiger was caged, prowling, testing, but inside the limits of my control.
“Only to help,” Layla answered. She flung her arms out, exasperation clear in her every action, dripping from every syllable. “But you’ve got your pendant now. Plus, you know the truth. You’ll figure out how to use your powers.”
As long as Layla helped me find my mom, I wouldn’t argue more now.
Fear had already become my constant companion, gnawing its way through my chest. I couldn’t stop the image of my mother’s copper eyes wide with fear, mouth open in a silent scream. I cupped my elbows, trying to stop the shivers the image produced. This was my mom we were discussing. I could never intentionally let Coyote hurt her.
The tiger leapt, its sharp claws scoring at the flimsy walls of my mental barrier.
“Head hurt?”
I nodded, trying to breathe through the pain.
The lights flickered in their sconces. Layla stood, walking to the door, checking the handle to make sure it was latched.
“Oh, no,” she gasped, her eyes widening larger than I’d ever seen them.
“What?” I mumbled. Exhaustion pulled at me.
“Stay here, E. Don’t leave the house until I get back. Promise me.”
“You promised not to use magic on me. Stop it, Layla.” I rubbed my temples, trying to keep my brains from spilling out through my mouth.
“Zeke’s going to keep looking for your mom. Promise me you’ll stay in the house,” Layla said again, snatching up my hand and gripping my fingers in too tight. “You have to promise.”
“Yes,” I gasped.
Then I could feel her. My mother’s emotions were layered over mine. I could feel her worry for me. For Sotuk. Footsteps came closer; I could hear them getting louder. Lust and hatred rippled through the space between my mom and her captive. Coyote was there. My mother was trying to push me out of her head, out of her consciousness. Fear for me built even greater than before, consuming even her fear of Coyote. Let go , she chanted. I wouldn’t. I locked my jaw and hooked in tighter to my mom’s consciousness.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Layla walked toward the door, her eyes focused on something just beyond the fence. A figure. Waving.
“What?”
“I need to go.”
I stood, swaying, but implacable. My mom always said I had the strength of will of a much larger person. “I want to go with you.”
“You promised. Stay here. No matter what.”
“I’m coming with
My mom said I’d always had migraines. I was eleven when the headaches hit with regularity. I’d talked my mom into tai chi classes. I’d studied the moves in one of the library books I brought home, after Layla had begun talking about the class she was in.
In the tai chi class, I hadn’t learned much more than the basic forms, which was too bad. Tai chi, like many of the martial arts, was supposed to help with control—something I’d always craved. Instead, I learned just how cruel preteen girls could be.
I’d been teased relentlessly about my petite frame—I was multiple inches shorter than the next girl. One, who was also eleven, towered over me by at least eight inches.
“You’re a sad little echo,” the girls used to laugh as they surrounded me, spinning. I’d fisted my hands and blinked back tears. “A sad little echo no one ever wanted,” they’d say. How they knew I didn’t have a father, I never knew, but I hated them for their comments.
The more the girls teased me, the more my head hurt. And then one day, I got black spots swimming in my periphery and I’d vomited all over the tall girl. She’d shrieked, crushing my skull with her high-pitched wail until I passed out. I’d never gone back to another tai chi class, but I still thought back on that moment as one of my best, regardless of the pain I’d endured.
Shaking my head as much to negate the feelings as to squash the memories, I gritted out, “You lied to me.” My tiger was caged, prowling, testing, but inside the limits of my control.
“Only to help,” Layla answered. She flung her arms out, exasperation clear in her every action, dripping from every syllable. “But you’ve got your pendant now. Plus, you know the truth. You’ll figure out how to use your powers.”
As long as Layla helped me find my mom, I wouldn’t argue more now.
Fear had already become my constant companion, gnawing its way through my chest. I couldn’t stop the image of my mother’s copper eyes wide with fear, mouth open in a silent scream. I cupped my elbows, trying to stop the shivers the image produced. This was my mom we were discussing. I could never intentionally let Coyote hurt her.
The tiger leapt, its sharp claws scoring at the flimsy walls of my mental barrier.
“Head hurt?”
I nodded, trying to breathe through the pain.
The lights flickered in their sconces. Layla stood, walking to the door, checking the handle to make sure it was latched.
“Oh, no,” she gasped, her eyes widening larger than I’d ever seen them.
“What?” I mumbled. Exhaustion pulled at me.
“Stay here, E. Don’t leave the house until I get back. Promise me.”
“You promised not to use magic on me. Stop it, Layla.” I rubbed my temples, trying to keep my brains from spilling out through my mouth.
“Zeke’s going to keep looking for your mom. Promise me you’ll stay in the house,” Layla said again, snatching up my hand and gripping my fingers in too tight. “You have to promise.”
“Yes,” I gasped.
Then I could feel her. My mother’s emotions were layered over mine. I could feel her worry for me. For Sotuk. Footsteps came closer; I could hear them getting louder. Lust and hatred rippled through the space between my mom and her captive. Coyote was there. My mother was trying to push me out of her head, out of her consciousness. Fear for me built even greater than before, consuming even her fear of Coyote. Let go , she chanted. I wouldn’t. I locked my jaw and hooked in tighter to my mom’s consciousness.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Layla walked toward the door, her eyes focused on something just beyond the fence. A figure. Waving.
“What?”
“I need to go.”
I stood, swaying, but implacable. My mom always said I had the strength of will of a much larger person. “I want to go with you.”
“You promised. Stay here. No matter what.”
“I’m coming with
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