Dave Kemp

#vss365 #illusion I hand him a thing on a thong in the shape of a sleeping kitten crafted of iron and illusion. “This glows when it’s time to come back for Tiger. Always wear it.” It was not a complete lie. It would glow then. He puts it on and says thank you. Still so polite.

#vss365 #wolf “Can’t you do anything with fire or lightning?” “My brother Ragnar is an elementalist.” “What’s that?” “Fire. Lightning. Stuff like that.” I toss the diamond into a bowl on my desk. “A lion or a bear or a wolf?” “Othor’s tower is crawling with animals.”

#vss365 #exhilaration “Now easy.” Choosing coal from the hod, I concentrate. Atoms shiver into a crystalline structure. Wiping the residual impurities off my hand and onto my tunic, I hold up a sparkling diamond with a flourish. I glance at him. Not one drop of exhilaration.

#vss365 #ravenous After lifting a white icing rosette off the cake with the knife, I do my thing. It transmutes into a real rose. “A flower? That’s hard? The frosting was better,” he states, unimpressed with my magic. It’s fortunate I’m not ravenous for approval.

#vss365 #elated “Do some magic,” he commands me, obviously elated at the prospect. Or maybe it was just a sugar rush. “Why?” “I want to see it.” I roll my eyes. “Something hard or something easy?” “Both.” I laugh. “Okay.” “Something hard first.”

#vss365 #cheering “How old are you?” I eventually ask around a mouthful of cake. Lemon is so cheering and, oddly enough, so is his company. “Eight. How old are you?” “Seventy-two.” “You don’t look like an old man.” “Magic, remember?” I deadpan.

#vss365 #start Enchanting has always come easily to me. Perhaps because it works on the same principles as transmutation. They both start with the manipulation of subatomic particles. Magical particles being one type of elementary particle. When it comes to enchanting, anyway.

#vss365 #travel This boy came far to bring that kitten here and he’d have to travel the same distance back. Now he was stronger and healthier and fit for the trip. A body better suited for his great heart. “Good?” He nods vigorously. I cut myself a slice sans enchantment.

#vss365 #taper Odie takes a bite of his cake and grins. I watch the enchantment take hold. Dark bruises under his eyes fade, scratches vanish, and exhaustion leaves his face as the magic blossoms and then tapers away. He looks healthier and sturdier and I’m pleased as hell.

#vss365 #miles (Author’s note: I haven’t decided yet if the world Tiger, Odie and Magnus inhabit is fantasy or post-apocalyptic. In either case there are no miles, so for today, I am defeated. It’s leagues or scampers or something else.)

#vss365 #doubt “Would you like a piece of cake with your milk?” I tease, knowing the answer beyond the shadow of a doubt. The eyes of the seven deer carved on the handle glow briefly as my magic slides down the blade. Cake is one of my favorite ways to deliver an enchantment.

#vss365 #commitment Gesturing Odie to one of the chairs, I sit in the other. I pick up an ensorcelled cake cutter I keep for such occasions. It was my mother’s and her mother’s before her. I still miss her. Her commitment to our family and her craft rivaled my father’s.

#vss365 #fueling I tenderly lay the yellow kitten on the pillow, covering him with the blanket, gathering the strands of my magic in the tips of my fingers, fueling the verisimilitude of life, sympathy tugging him a fraction closer. If all goes well, his little spirit lingers.

#vss365 #nervous The kitchen has outdone itself. The cake’s bright yellow icing is spangled with lemon drops and white rosettes. The scent of citrus rolls through the room like a conquering army. We quiver with nervous exaltation at its puissance.

#vss365 #training The servitor enters and sets the refreshments on a low table in accordance with its training. The pillow is placed in the sunshine on a windowseat. Odie is hypnotized by the cake. I am too, to be frank. Cake is magic without an ounce of extra magic added.

#vss365 #sneakers Glancing outside I see the servitor approaching with the cake, pillow, blanket and glasses of milk having extruded three extra limbs. My sister Eugenie makes all of our constructs. Sneakers and squeakers and trundling tanks she calls them affectionately.

#vss365 #lottery Odie looks around the room. Books, mechanicals, bottles and other curios. His eyes are snagged by the clutter on my desk. “Why do you have a hand over there?” I roll my eyes, looking away from my winnings in the inheritance lottery. “I wish I knew.”

#vss365 #unexpected “And a pillow with a lambswool blanket,” I call after it. “He needs to rest,” I tell Odie, who nods. I’m not versed in the magic of life and death. Nor are any of my siblings. Unfortunate, but not unexpected. What a damn poor time for my father to be dead.