Mimosa

I had obviously chosen a bad day for my visit to the Capital. Sure, it had been a cloudy day in Dale, but apparently Breasinghae was flooding. The rain came down like in father's shower, in heavy curtains and with pressure.

But then again, as a working woman, I couldn't have really come the day before. And on Sundays I went swimming with mum. So, if I wanted to visit my brother, then Saturdays were my only option.

I sighed and supported my head against the bus seat. Despite having taken an umbrella, my jeans felt cold against my thighs. I was starting to understand why Timothy insisted on having a big umbrella. I made a mental note to not to tease him about it anymore, but instead ask where my brother had ordered that tent of his.

Our childhood home, where Timothy still lived, was downhill from the bus stop. The street bore some resemblance to a river. At least the cars parked by it got a good washing. Though there weren't any by the street just then.

Despite the weather, I slowed my steps as I approached our old home. I had heard from mother that the potential buyer had really purchased the place. I felt a bit odd about it. Up until now I had been able to come to the house visiting my brother whenever I pleased. It probably wouldn't be that simple for very long anymore.

Maybe it was nostalgia that had brought me here just today. As a pretext I had Timothy's gloves in my backpack. I didn't know if he even owned another pair. Sometimes Timothy was thoughtless in that sense: He forgot he was human, and forgot about the simple things. It was like him to lose his gloves and get a cold because he didn't have a spare pair.

I stepped just shy of the yard, watching the houses. Watching our house. I could have come to the back yard, but I felt like using the front porch. Like when we had been kids. We had only had keys for the main door.

I supposed Timothy had now also the key to the backyard's glass door. And wondered if it was in his keychain, instead of on top of the hall's small wood table.

Truth be told, I was sometimes worried for my brother. Why had he stayed in our parents' house? I knew he didn't get along well with mother. So wouldn't Timothy have been eager to move out of the house she owned? Yet he had stayed. As if it hadn't occurred to him people would wonder why he stayed. He was a bit old to stay at home by all counts, anyway.

I also wasn't sure how he lived. Back when I had lived with him, it had crossed my mind he could have been to drugs, disappearing and appearing as he did. And Timothy had had an oddly haunted, almost scary look to him back then. And when I had moved, finally, out on my own, he had simply disappeared for a period.

Even the laid-back dad had gotten anxious.

We had just been about to call the police once for a missing person, when after a month of no returned calls, Timothy had suddenly called me.

I still remembered the call.

"Mimosa?"

I remembered his voice. It hadn't sounded like him. And he had called in the middle of the night. Around one o'clock in the morning.

And what he had said next had frightened me out of my senses:

"I love you. I am sorry for the trouble."

He had weathered my frightened shouting. And I had told him exactly what I thought of him just then. And that opinion hadn't been high. Still, he hadn't apologized a second time. He hadn't called our parents, just me.

"I hear your lungs are well. How are you?"

I had hung up the call.

I was still standing outside in the downpour, under the umbrella. All by myself. There weren't even cars on this part of the street. Or the always present dog walkers. Everything seemed abandoned. There was just the river of a street and the rain.

And there was the dream. I had seen it again last night. The dream where I tried to follow Timothy and the old wizard into a house and an angel came to stop me.

Only now did I realize the house in my dream was this one.

A bit shaken by the sudden enlightenment, I took the first step toward our childhood home and set a foot onto the yard.

"Mimosa!" A shriek.

I stopped. Turned.

A woman was running. She screamed my name again.

I frowned.

It was a friend of his, Valentina. She was of a Catholic family and I had seen her around at the church activities sometimes. Once we had gone to the same summer camp.

I took a step back towards her.

A flash of light and a wave of heat accompanied with loud bangs I couldn't identify as any sound I had ever heard.

I screamed with her and crouched down as broken pieces flew over my head.

Clover

I felt like I was missing something. I couldn't really name what it was. Maybe just my bag that was still with Lavender. But I couldn't shake the feeling it was something crucial. Which the bag definitely wasn't.

I lifted another book to a small white shelf. There weren't any left. My suitcase was empty. All the clothes I owned were in the small closet by the bed, and now most of my other belongings, some crystals and a half burned candle in the shape of a pinecone, were on the small shelf. Sure, I might have left a towel in the bathroom, a brush on the living room couch and my hand mirror was somewhere. But most of everything I owned was here in the small and rather bare room.

There was a small black and white photograph of a hunter on the wall. In vain, I wished I had had at least a colorful scarf to cover it with. The sight of the dead rabbit hung over the man's back haunted me.

I wandered aimlessly to the living room I shared with Valentina.

She had left a book on a table in front of the TV. I picked it up. Dos Pasos Ligeros. I wasn't sure what the title meant, but by the cover I guessed it might have been a romantic tale between gay lovers. At least it had the library's little colorful sticker that identified books from the rainbow shelf. Even the school library had a section reserved for celebrating all genders and orientations.

I looked around myself in the small room. There was actually a huge bookcase by the rear wall, opposite the TV. Full of books in Spanish. I had never met Valentina's previous flat mate, and wondered if he had left some of them.

I rose and searched the shelf for anything in Atlantean. I didn't find many. But in a corner was a collection of rather technical looking paperbacks. I drew one out.

"Understanding How It Thinks. Becoming Friends With Your Laptop," I read the title out loud to fill the empty apartment.

After reading the back cover, I decided it was better than the few children's books I had brought from home and settled to read on the couch. The place was warm, there was even a neat little blanket to use.

I was halfway through the second chapter, when I suddenly heard the balcony door just by my ear and a cold draft of autumn air hit me. Framed by the balcony door stood a young woman. Her violet shirt flapped in the wind that blew rain in with her and her blond curls hung in a wet mass around a smiling face.

I stared.

Heather smiled.

"What's wrong, cousin? Never seen a witch before?"

"How...?" I pushed the blanket and the book aside.

Heather just shook her curls that weren't even wavy just then. She was making a puddle.

"Can't tell you. I'll show when I leave. Fern told me you were ill. I brought you some Palo Santo, maybe it clears your head... Oh! And a new candle of course!"

She was searching in a colorful patchwork bag she wore.

I took the wet offerings from her.

"I can't pay you," I told her.

"It's fine." She leaned to kiss me on the forehead. "I didn't come to trade. I came to give a present. Maybe you can trade when you feel better again. Or maybe not. I hope the incense helps."

She turned back to the balcony.

I stood still dumbfounded when she took hold of a broom I hadn't seen before.

But then she suddenly gripped the metal bar of the railing and seemed to be about to jump over it.

"Hei! Wait!"

The offerings clattered onto the laminate floor as I rushed to stop her. But Heather just blew a kiss my way and disappeared over the balcony edge.

I stood shaking on the rainy platform, staring five floors down to a gray and flooding gravel parking lot.

A chill was finding its way to my bones.

I went back inside and closed the door. And found myself standing in a cold puddle of water the rain had apparently blown inside. There was a small piece of wood and a colorful candle on the floor. I wasn't sure how they had ended up there.

But I did know I would have a very annoyed Valentina to deal with unless I cleaned the mess.

In a few minutes I would be back with my book. It was surprisingly interesting. I wished Lavender would bring my computer back soon.

Valentina

Smoke rose in a thinning cloud from where Timothy's house had been. I could see it from the parking lot of a nearby school, where we had escaped with Mimosa. There was at least a block of houses between us and Timothy's place. The red and blue lights of an ambulance reflected from the flowing water. We were sitting inside the vehicle. Neither was badly hurt, though my ears were still ringing and a few flying shards had cut me in the face, as I had been facing the house. It stung. But that was it. My eyes had been saved by a miracle.

There was nothing left of the house, as I had it understood. Apparently it had collapsed. The fire had caught on to the neighboring houses as well. There had been smoke divers but it seemed no one had been home.

No one had been home. Not in the whole neighborhood.

I lifted my face, as a police officer approached. She had talked with us before, to make sure we were well. She had a pleasant face. She was one of those women that had never been pretty, but had a beautiful smile they could take with them to the grave.

"Can I ask the two of you, why were you here? Visiting one of the houses?"

Mimosa nodded.

"I am not sure why I came today. I suppose I just wanted to see the house. It had been my parents' until recently. I grew up in it."

The officer nodded. She laid a hand on her knee and smiled reassuringly.

"You really picked a bad day."

Mimosa nodded silently. She drew tighter a gray blanket.

"And you were here?" The officer asked.

"I came to see a friend," I said silently to the flowing water.

"In the collapsed house or in the neighborhood?"

"In the one that exploded."

The officer looked at us confused. She frowned.

"Didn't you say the house had been sold recently?" She asked Mimosa.

She nodded.

"It has been empty for... For more than a year at least. I was the last of the family to move out."

"So you know the buyer then?" The officer asked me.

I looked at the smoke. And closed my eyes.

"You have to demand it," Hellebore said.

I stared, mesmerized, in his pupiless, golden eyes.

"You are the only one who might know."

"You don't need to answer now. We can find the buyer, Valentina."

The officer had laid a hand onto my shoulder. She had very ordinary gray green eyes. But there was kindness in them.

I nodded. There were tears threatening. I couldn't think of Timothy. Not now. Not yet.

"Could someone have been inside?" The officer asked.

I shook my head, tears falling.

"He was supposed to come later." The lie fell easily through my lips.

She tightened her grip for a moment. Smiled sympathetically. And then let go.

She went out of my view to talk to a colleague. I could hear their voices, even as they stood out of my view.

"Valentina," Mimosa said after a moment.

I turned to her.

Mimosa had cried too. Her eyes were rimmed with red. Though no tears clouded her eyes just then.

"I need to tell you something."

"What is it?" I asked.

She visibly hesitated. "Do you remember what you said at first, when the police arrived? About this boy having been inside the collapsed house?"

I nodded. I also remembered the blank gaze Mimosa had given me as I had claimed this. I had tried to tell her that her brother had been inside. And she had told me she had never had a brother, that she was the only child.

"I am not sure why, Valentina," Hellebore said.

"But you are the only one that might save him. You need to insist. Even when all hope is gone. You need to reach out to those you hate most. Only those people can salvage what is going to be left of him."

"I dreamed last night... that I had a brother."

I lifted my head up. She looked at me confused.

"I... I know I don't have a brother. But... Last night... I had one in my dream." She seemed to run out of words. "I don't understand what it means. But I am sure it was one of those dreams that are God-sent."

"God-sent..." I repeated.

Rain filled the silence between us.

Hellebore had said many things. But he hadn't been able to predict I would run into Mimosa. He had simply told that Timothy was going to die. And that almost everyone would forget about him if he did. And then he had told me that the one person that could help would be Blizzard, the vampire.

I felt sick to my bones. Just thinking about him.

"I know you must think me crazy," Mimosa drew my attention back.

I found out there was a grimace on my face and smoothed my features. I feared she had seen it and drawn wrong conclusions.

I laid a hand on her shoulder.

"You are not crazy", I told her, with honesty. "It's just that the world has gone nuts around us." I drew in a breath. I didn't need Hellebore to tell me I needed to utter the next sentence:

"In that dream of yours, your brother was short for a male, left handed, gray eyed, had long brown hair and was called Timothy. Am I right?"

Mimosa drew her head up sharply.

"You saw it too? Is that why you are here?"

I shook my head.

And by sudden inspiration found all the words I was looking for:

"Timothy is the name of a demon. You should forget about him. He shook my world into pieces I cannot recognize."

And I must find whatever was left of him.

I sighed.

"That must be it then..." Mimosa said. She turned back to the rain. "You know Valentina... In my dream, you were there too. You were an angel that stopped me, even in the dream, from dying inside."

I didn't have time to process this new surprising phrase when the officer returned.

"I have now the permission to drive you both home. We have all your contact information in case they are needed. I'd like to start with you, Valentina, as you live in the city."

I nodded.

I couldn't do much before nightfall anyway.

Julia

I was holding a tea mug. There was a huge screen in front of me and a small table onto which I set the mug with shaking hands. Where had Lavender brought me this time? Clover, the green haired young woman that wasn't a witch anymore, was sitting next to me. And Valentina, the muscle Aconite had acquired, leaned against a balcony door. She was wearing nothing but a towel and looked distant.

"But, you though haven't still explained how you were there in the first place? If it wasn't to meet this Mimosa?" Clover was saying.

"I told you," Valentina replied. "I went to see a friend."

Her voice was too taut. There was something I was missing. I wished I could remember the rest of the conversation. But I had just become present, and Lavender still held her secrets locked away from me.

"In a house that exploded!?" Clover said.

"Yes. In a house that exploded." Valentina grimaced. "And now he is dead. So never mind."

I think I stared at Valentina quite as shocked as Clover. Valentina was frowning, as if she had more important matters in her head than a friend that had died in an accident.

"Were you close?" I found myself asking.

Valentina gave me a look that made something shrink inside. I was sure she couldn't remember. So what had Lavender done to anger her like that?

"Yes. Kind of. Timothy was an amazing person."

My heart skipped a beat.

"Timothy?" Clover asked. "You have never mentioned him? Oh. Sorry. That was thoughtless. I am just shocked myself I suppose. You did come home accompanied by the police."

Never mentioned him?

What the hell was going on?

Timothy was dead? How? Why... No... Mmm... I thought back. Probably I had something to do with it. But that was as far as I could understand things.

Clover apparently couldn't remember his existence. Why? There had been nothing to him to suggest he was only and exclusively related to the magical memories. Clover had, after all, no difficulty remembering her uncle's existence. Right?

I was missing something.

"Right. I never mentioned him," Valentina sighed.

"What time is it? I need to make a call, to a friend of his, and tell what has happened."

"It's half past five. But are you sure you don't need a moment to collect yourself first? I mean. If he is dead...?" Clover's voice trailed into silence.

"I need to do this, Clover. It is extremely important. For me. I am calling for me." She was actually smiling. Sadly but still. "I want to talk to someone who knew him. And..." She frowned.

"And... I need to make his... his family to understand... I don't know. It's too absurd. I just need to make a call, ok? And I need to dress... and get something to eat..."

She gestured vaguely toward the door at my back. Then she shrugged and crossed the room to disappear through the open doorway.

The former witch made to rise after her.

I laid a hand on her to stop it.

"Let me go," I said. "I... I think I might have known this Timothy guy."

Clover sat back.

"I just don't know what to do, Lavender. I... what do you say to someone who saw a house explode with a person inside?" She choked on her own laugh. "I feel so helpless. And confused. As if I had lost someone."

So you have... Clover had lost more than just a friend in a few days. I had no doubt her witch family didn't know what to do with her either.

I didn't feel guilty when I hugged her. But maybe just a little bit compassionate.

"Don't worry about it. I'll see what I can do with Valentina. Get your exams together in the meanwhile or something."

She let me go to the corridor alone.

There were four more doors in the passage. After a few trials ( I now knew where the kitchen and Clover's room were) I came across a door that was locked from the inside.

"Valentina?" I asked, knocking. "Could I talk to you for a moment?"

I wasn't sure what I wanted to talk about. But I felt confused myself, and apparently Valentina knew something about Timothy that Clover didn't. I wanted to get the whole picture.

The door opened. Valentina had had time to put on a shirt and was holding the towel around her waist.

"Sure, Lavender. Come on in. I am sorry if I am not the best company tonight. As said my friend just..."

"Yes, well. That's what I wanted to talk about."

I pushed into the room that was neat and tidy. The very only item on the floor was a big black bag of some kind. I glimpsed a pair of boxing gloves inside and a piece of white fabric. Martial arts.

Oh, yes, I thought Aconite might have mentioned that.

Valentina didn't waste time waiting for me to open my mouth but turned to her bed, where she had laid a pair of trousers. I turned my head to give her space to get dressed. She however didn't care for the gesture but asked directly:

"Well. What is it, Lavender? I really need to make that call."

"Is Timothy really dead?" I asked.

"I told you so already. Maybe twice. Just now and an two hours ago when I first arrived. I get it. You don't know who he is. That's okay. He was important to me."

I turned my head.

Frowned.

Valentina mirrored my expression.

"Just to be sure..." I asked. "An hour ago... I didn't know who Timothy is?"

Her brow rose various centimeters.

"Oh," she said. "You are not Lavender. Interesting."

Before I could react ,she had landed a sharp open-handed slap onto my right cheek. The impact was enough to make my head jerk to a side. I stumbled back and hit my hip to the door handle.

A film covered my eyes. But I didn't so much as sigh heavily.

I breathed evenly.

My attacker was standing before me, and looked angry. I wasn't afraid of her however. Valentina was Linked. That was more than ample protection for me. Even if she wouldn't feel the need to protect her friend's body, the vampiric bondage would impede her from even thinking of really hurting me. That was why she had only slapped.

"What do you want?" She asked, with a voice that made the temperature drop by more than ten degrees.

"You look like Mo, when she was younger by a few centuries." I shook my head. The slap had been strong enough to cause some amount of light-headedness. "I just want to understand what is going on. Where is Timothy? Why doesn't Clover remember him?"

She eyed me suspiciously. I didn't really blame her for that. I was really the reason for why her witch friend wasn't a witch any more. And why she was bonded to a vampire. And probably I was also the one that had gotten Timothy dead. But I wasn't sure of it yet. Well. Not completely at least.

"I really liked Timothy. What happened? Really, what happened?"

She sat on her bed.

"His house exploded. I gained my memory just before it happened and dashed there just in time to witness the explosion. Hellebore sent me. I tried calling him, of course. But Hellebore doesn't remember him either. Neither does Timothy's sister."

I felt I wasn't invited to sit on the bed with her, so instead I crossed my legs on the floor.

"And you are sure Timothy is dead?"

She looked troubled. Either she didn't want to tell me. Or she wasn't sure herself.

"What did Hellebore say to you, exactly?"

"He said Timothy's mortal body would die in his own home and that only I could remember him. He also told me that if I wanted to salvage anything of him, I would need to pact with my worst enemies. I am almost sure he meant Blizzard... Truth be told, I am not sure what I am even going to say to Blizzard. Hellebore just said I needed to insist. That only the vampire could do anything..."

She shrugged.

"You know," she continued, directly to me, "I... I actually remember some rather evil things you did. I don't understand everything, but I do know it's mostly your fault. I carried Clover here, you know. She was unconscious the whole journey."

I massaged a beardless chin to exaggerate the thought process I was supposed to be having.

"No. I have no defense. You are probably right. Even this case is probably my fault." I admitted. "But. I liked Timothy. And I am not ready to give him for a dead man yet. I want to see the lifeless body with my own eyes. And," I smiled a smile that had nothing to do with Lavender's muscle memory, "I will make them pay, whoever it was who shot Timothy down. Dead or not."

Valentina didn't seem impressed.

"I am afraid there won't be that much of a body left. The house really exploded."

I nodded. "And Hellebore told you there was something to salvage."

"A memory maybe?" Lavender was frowning again.

She jumped off the bed and paced a bit.

"You don't know when Blizzard can be reached, do you? And what are you called, anyway? Clover called you by a man's name."

"I said to Timothy he could call me Julia. Most know me by the name Alfonso Moura."

She stopped.

"You aren't joking, are you?" She asked.

"No. No te estoy tomando el pelo, Valentina." No, I am not joking.

She raised her brow again, clearly surprised. Then she simply nodded. By now I had gathered Lavender didn't really speak Spanish. By using the language I indicated I dominated it.

"Let's try calling Blizzard now. In the worst case scenario he won't answer. In the best, we wake him up."