The wait for the train became a meditation session for James. Eyes closed, he timed his breathing with the ticking of the stations clock, and the tap of his fingers on his spell book.
His sister possessed his penchant for challenging others with words and emotions. Her attacks on his personhood, his love for his family, the dire notion he had forgotten them - regretted them even - it had hurt the very core of his being.
Who am I?
It was a ludicrous question, and Cosmo was ready with its own telepathic answer; but that wasn’t what James was aiming at.
I left for ten years. Over half of her lifetime I’ve been gone. She called me ethereal, something out of this reality. Am I truly so heartless.
A dichotomy of logic and emotions tugged at the conflicted man. He swept his hand through his hair, greasy. His hands felt grimy, unclean and he almost cast Lesser Restoration just to be rid of the sickening sensation.
The wind blew steadily, cool in the warm Spring air. The sounds of other commuters surrounded him.
“You won’t believe what happened to…”
“Oi, Davo! How’s it been? Did you catch the news…”
“To think, just down the road there was a mass…”
James stiffened at the talk. It all traced back to his sister. He reached for his Dust, but Cosmo - of all things - rebuked him. James opened his eyes to stay at the Baku. It held the face of a puppy, wide-eyed and pleading for attention. Rapidly the face shifted, to a Burmese cats face, laconic and purring with its belly. Finally the Baku shifted to a wolf’s head. A harrowing visage, bloodshot eyes, long fangs and mangey fur; James understood his friends meaning.
He swallowed in the morning air, inhaling the scents of coffee and pastries from the surrounding commuters. He breathed out, relaxing his shoulders and hips, his arms and legs, fingers and toes - he basked in the feeling of weightlessness, of released muscles.
Slowly the ball in his chest lightened. He continued his breathing, fingers no longer tapping, the sounds of the clock lost in a haze of breaths. The weight dispersed, still within him, but no longer a constant suffocating weight.
Thank you Cosmo. Where would I be without you, you brilliant empath?
Cosmo hid within the satchel as the train arrived, but James could feel the Cheshire grin it wore.
Home was as he left it. Not how he left it ten years ago, but how James had left it last night. The brick building was of moderate size, a clear doorway, low fence and a couple windows facing the street; it was a comfortable home for any young mage family. However, James’ family was not a mage family.
He walked towards the building, fearful of what his parents were thinking, when he noticed some strangers staring at the home. They were kids, probably no older than thirteen or so, but what caught James’ attention was the rocks they had piled up in a wagon.
James released Cosmo, in his Dust form, to scout the kids.
“I’m telling you, their bloody NoMs. They shouldn’t live round here.” Said the tallest and widest boy of the bunch.
“I don’t know. I thought we were going to hunt possums and rats.” Said a younger boy.
“Yeah, they can still beat yo ass Mike. No a good idea.” Antagonised an acne-ridden teen.
Chubby Mike was incensed at that comment. He huffed the classic, “I’ll show you!”, and made for the cart of rocks. James was not having it.
“Boys, what are you lot up to?” He inquired.
The young teens looked at each other furtively, none of them wishing to respond. Mike continued to grab a rock. He then turned to James, still mad at his friend’s earlier comment.
“What’d you want?” He said.
James raised an eyebrow, looking down at the boy. He was tall for his age but James was a grown man, and so the boy sagged at little looking up at him.
“I want to know why a bunch of kids have a cart of rocks?” He asked.
“We were looking for possums, sir. They hid out with their young during Spring, we were just trying to get rid of the pests.” Acne-boy said.
“I see, so where are the possums?”
“Um, I thought I saw them go that’a’way.” He pointed and ran off with the cart, the younger friend in tow. Mike still stood before James, rock in hand. He looked to him, and James’ home and back to James.
“I wouldn’t do that if I was you.” James said. Mike looked up, traces of defiance on his features. I reminded him of his little sister; the way she gobbled down a whole chilly, only because James had said not to. The defiance of the young, it struck a chord of emotion in James.
“They have a magical-dog, Mike. I wouldn’t test them.” The boy looked up confused. He was about to deny the dog’s existence when Cosmo appeared, in Nightmare-Form.
Cosmo had adapted a dire-wolf body and frame; the ribs and spine showing through the emancipated torso. Battle scars lined the flesh, framing the demonic beasts front claws and hind legs. The ethereal Dust was now necrotic shadows, distorting the light around the beast and forming ghoulish faces in the haze. Cosmo opened his mangey mouth, fangs bared and a long slender tongue - a perversion of an ant-eater’s and a snake’s, double in thickness as it taped to a fork - emerged and lashed at the air. The Baku’s dark red eyes locked onto the boys, the beast prepared to pounce.
Mike ran. He sprinted with all the power his tubby little legs could sustain. He ran so fast his friend had to rush with the cart to catch up. They disappeared around a bend in the distance.
Oh kids, I could’ve done a lot worse than that. Good boy Cosmo.
The Baku returned to its Cheshire form and returned to the satchel to receive scratches. James walked to the front door, only to see his Dad already waiting there.
“They wouldn’t of done anything, you know. If they had, we would have told their parents. Situation resolved. They’re a good lot, Mike just has a bad older brother, you didn’t need to do that.” He told his son.
James nodded. “But now the older brother can’t put him up to something stupid anymore, and so its resolved anyway.”
“You sure you’re not one of them, arbitrators or something, ha!” The father and son made their way inside.
Home was where the heart felt at rest - and yet all James felt was anxious palpitations. It was a home bought out of love, seven years-prior at the eve of his first advance as an accomplished Magus. He faintly recalled the joy he’d felt, bubbling with excitement at bring his family closer to a better life. Now, he walked the broken-in hallway with trepidation, uncertain of himself; had he done enough?
The walls had been repainted. No longer white but a cool grey, with colourful splatters whirling in patterns at the foot of the walls. Pictures and paintings lined the hall; proud moments, of Richard and Pete holding up a trophy, to Lucy beaming at Mum and Dad a large diploma in hand. Next to the picture of Lucy was a contemporary artwork.
It was a vivid galaxy of dust. Reds and blues and yellows and oranges, forming a vortex of passion that evoked awe in James heart. Cosmo, leaping from the satchel, emulated the terrific catastrophe of the painting. James stopped, and smiled.
“Ah, yes. It won her a Tower Prize for the Arts, you know?” His Dad said. “And it was all thanks to you.” He beamed at his son, pride in his eyes.
James’ brow furrowed, head tilted he look at his father. He gave a short laugh and comment - “Surely you remember your first performance?” - an pointed with his muscular arm to a picture a little further down the hall.
James peered at it in disbelief. It was a memory forgotten, a time before, when he had still dreamt of dreams without needing his friend’s protection.
The picture was of him on stage at high school, spell book levitating before him as his arms were held out-stretched. His face illuminated by his marvellous construct; a Dust nebula, refracting colours like a kaleidoscope throughout the hall. The passion in the performance, his family cheering below his original creation, it was a different time. His breath caught in his throat.
“The school was kind enough to send us the Lumen-pic, just after you had left. Every day it stands out, just as magical.” A sweet voice spoke behind him.
He turned and faced her. Mum.
She smiled a warm smile, pride dancing in her eyes as she took in the sight of her son. She placed a hand on his shoulder, holding firm as if he’d disappear at any moment.
“Hi Mum.” James said.
“Welcome home, James. Come here.” She wrapped him in a big hug.
Just as a father can set his boy’s heart at ease, a mother’s embrace can fill a son with all the warmth of the world. James returned the hug, melting into her embrace.
“I see you haven’t lost those emotions of yours.” She stepped back, wiping a tear from his eye.
“I guess so.” James said.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt this much Mum. You have no idea what I’ve… Who your son is now.
“Well come sit down.” Dad clapped him on the back and the couple guided him to the living room.
It was a shock, compared to Jenny’s home. Cushions were splayed around the couch, chairs unorganised and an easel stood in the corner facing the window. It spoke of activity, and family. His sister’s presence found in each discarded utensil and unwashed cups of tea. His Mum’s penchant for redecorating, found in the scuff marks of the wooden floor; almost hidden by the circular carpet that framed the living-room space from the kitchen.
Only his Dad was organised, moving to the kitchen sink to fill the kettle - clearing away a myriad of plates and cups in the process. The pride in his eyes had never waved, now sharing space with a calm happiness at seeing his eldest son returned home.
James sat at the head of the wooden-table that divided the kitchen from the couch-ridden space. He felt… content, reclaiming his old haunt. Mum sat to the right of him, facing the kitchen where his Dad had gotten the kettle on the stove.
“I don’t know where to begin.” James said. He looked over his family. They returned his gaze with heart-felt smiles.
“How have you been? Keeping well, I hope. How have your performances been?” His Dad asked from the sink.
“I’ve been… busy. But, that’s both in getting my work out there and finding the resources to come back here. It’s been a long year, but I’ve been well. I’m just glad I’m home.” James answered.
“As are we.” His mum squeezed his hand.
“How have things been around here? Did I send enough resources for Luc, and you guys. Have I missed any-” Mum shushed him.
“Love, everything you have sent us has been more than enough.” She consoled him.
“Ha! You can say that again. Our friends still ask us why we still work, having such a caring son.” Dad filled up four mugs, steam rising from them. “I’ll be right back.” He vanished, his footsteps heard pounding up a set of stairs.
James looked to his mother. She was just past middle-aged, edging towards a young grandparent. He’d even heard whispers that Richard had found a partner, an odd thought. Her eyes were a verdant green, the hazel of James’ eyes inherited from his father. She wore comfortable jeans and sweater; and if true to routine, she’d gone for her early morning run before he’d arrived. She was so steady, holding his hand and yet he felt so uncertain of himself.
Mum, I think I need to tell you something important. But, I just don’t know what it is.
“I heard you two had a fight.” She asked.
“Yeah.”
“I also know that she is vicious in a debate.”
“She definitely is.” Mother and son sat in silence for a minute or two. It wasn’t an awkward silence. It was a silence of contemplation. They sipped their tea as Dad returned.
“I’m sorry, but she won’t come down right now.” He said.
“That’s alright.”
“She’ll come around, love. Distance is jarring, especially after its been in place for such a long time. You’ll be back on the same page in no time.” James’ Mum rubbed his back, watching him carefully.
“I feel that I’ve missed out on so much. This was not how I thought you guys would react. I thought the incident made the news?” James placed his spell book on the table.
Tap, tap, tap…
His parents watched his actions, familiar with the habit. Dad sat on James’ left, looking into the living-room. James turned, following his eyeliner. The easel in the corner seemed so… empty, to the Scanlan men.
“Well, with the friends she’s made over the years; we’ve learnt to accept who she wants to be. Gosh, you remember how feisty she was as a kid.” Mum said.
“Yeah, she was always crafty. I’d wake-up one morning to find myself glad wrapped to my bed; all because she thought I wasn’t paying enough attention to her the day before.” James remembered.
“Ever since she met Kiara, she’s been channelling her passion, super focused. At first we didn’t know what to think, with all the ideas and egos she brought home; but we made peace with her goals, and friends, and have done our best to look out for her.” Dad said. “Thank you, for finding her last night. I know it went ruff.”
James watched as his parents eyes turned sardonic. They understood the realities at hand; their daughter being branded a criminal was tantamount to exile in this small community. But, there was love in their shared expressions. The cups of tea, never forgetting who is home, reminders of the past - James had missed them dearly.
“It was no issue, really. I always wanted to be here for you all; and now I can be.” He smiled. “Now, what do you-” He was interrupted by a telepathic message.
“Hey James, it’s Yilin. I’m all clear to get you that passport and register you with the Tower today. Let me know if that suits.”
James shot his old friend a reply, letting him know he’ll be there soon. He turned to his parents, curious as to his peculiar pause mid-speech.
“I have to go. Got to register at the Tower, and see a few old friends.” He stood up and hugged his family. He let them know he’d be back tonight if not late-afternoon, thanking them for the warm welcome.
“Oh, when did you get so formal? We’ll work on diffusing your sister, enjoy the rest of the day now.” James joined his Dad in a brief laugh.
“Now, don’t go and faint like you did at the High School registration. I can still remember the anxiety of waiting for you to wake up.” Mum reminisced.
“Heh. I’m sure I won’t. I was much younger and very underprepared back then. See you all later.” James replied.
Gathering Cosmo, who’d dyed some of the Dust in his sister’s paints, James left out the front door. His heart lighter, and head clearer, James enjoyed the remnants of the sunny Spring morning
