Bianca February, 28th 1989
I look at the clock.
It's five in the morning, and there's still no sun. Crawling out of my bed, I quietly make my way to my bedroom door. Not bothering to put a coat on.
The house was quiet except for the furnace sounds coming from the basement. I was the only person up. That was good. I didn't know how to explain why I was awake at this hour, and I didn't want to try.
I'd been living at Steph's place since September. Her dad had kindly let me stay and even gotten me a job at his firm. Brian was a corporate lawyer, and they were always looking for new secretaries. Unfortunately, a lot of the people they hired didn't last long. Being yelled at by overworked lawyers wasn't appealing to anyone.
I didn't have that problem. Not that I enjoyed being yelled at, but my boss, Mr. Chapman, never raised his voice to me. He was very kind, and I think that has to do with the fact I do my job quietly and make sure I do it well.
Making his coffee exactly how he likes it wins me a few points. At least, I think it does.
Brian set things up so I'd be paid in cash. That way, I couldn't be tracked through a bank account. I stopped attending school but planned to start night school this fall to get my high school diploma. I didn't want to be a high school dropout, and being a secretary for the rest of my life wasn't appealing either.
I probably could, though, especially if I kept working for the firm. They paid me ten dollars an hour, three times the average wage for everyone else. Brian never explained why they did that, and I wondered if he wasn't adding that money to my weekly pay.
I brought home sixteen hundred dollars a month with no bills to pay. That was more than some families made, with two people working. I was grateful for it.
For the first time in my life, I felt free. I could do whatever I liked. I could buy clothes that were so expensive I was afraid to put them on. I had the luxury of going to a salon to get my haircut and styled instead of sitting in the kitchen and letting my mom do it the way she liked it. I ate at excellent restaurants and left big tips. Steph and I went to concerts on the weekends. I'd even seen Madonna on stage.
This was intoxicating. Being able to do whatever I wanted was addictive at first. It was like going crazy and not having to worry about anyone locking you up for it. It didn't feel real, I was living a fantasy, and it was my life.
There was only one thing keeping me anchored to the real world. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't stop missing my mom.
Every time I tried something new or bought a new outfit, I couldn't help wanting to share that with her. Sometimes I'd be at the mall with Steph. I'd turn for a second to ask my mother what she thought of an outfit, and then I'd remember that I had run away and she wasn't part of my life anymore. That always made me sad.
My mom didn't know where I was. I made sure of that. She didn't know where Steph lived or even her last name. All she knew was that she lived in Chicago. It's huge if you've never lived in the city, and it's easy to get lost here. Especially when you have magic on your side.
It sounds terrible, and I admit that it is, but I made myself a shield. It's elemental magic. My phuro taught me how to do that when I was little. It's not hard to do; as long as I called Steph's house my home, the spell would continue to hide me.
I know that I was hurting my family by doing what I was putting them through. I know that because, as the terrible daughter I am, I called home. at least once a week, never from Steph's house or the office. I used payphones with a small bag of quarters. I never knew what to say, so I didn't say anything. I just listened to my mom talk to me because she knew it was me every time.
At least for the first three weeks. Then, someone else started answering the phone. My father.
Phuro only stayed with us through winter. From the beginning of December till the first day of March, right after my birthday. So, he wasn't supposed to be there so soon.
He begged me to come home, never sounding angry or disappointed. Instead, my father sounded scared, as if my being away from them somehow put my life in danger. I know people were looking for us, but even though it broke my heart and the minute I ran out of quarters, I was running to the house to pack my things and go home, I never did.
There was always something to tempt me not to, and as shameless as it is, I let myself give in every single time.
But today was different.
In the last month, something has changed. I didn't feel the same. The shopping, parties, concerts, and expensive lifestyle didn't taste as glamorous. It started to feel hollow.
Last night, Steph took me to a party for my birthday today as a pre-celebration. She got me in a metallic lavender dress that was tight enough to barely breathe. It showed so much skin, only reaching my upper thighs, and was backless. I looked like I'd fallen into a pile of tutus, to be honest, and I remember looking in the mirror and wondering who I was staring at. I didn't recognize myself anymore, and that bothered me.
I'd looked thinner, my skin paler, and the thick layer of makeup hid my face under a mask. I didn't feel like it was me anymore.
Was that crazy? Wasn't that what I was trying to do? To be someone new and exciting?
Something was missing inside of me, and that wasn't something I could buy.
For the past few months, I'd neglected to celebrate every important day of magic, and it was affecting me. I felt pent up, almost bloated with the energy I was meant to channel. That was the thing about being both a witch and Ge'llin.
The witch blood in me tapped into more physical magic. Spells, potions, and things like that, but the Ge'llin tapped directly into the universe, energy, and soul magic.
It was my birthday, and I was finally eighteen. The number meant something in the mortal world, not so much in the supernatural. Witch's transitional age was thirteen. That was when your power awakened, and the color of your eyes turned amber. Mine hadn't done that. Nothing had happened to me, and my eyes were still brown.
For Ge'llin, our transitional age wasn't thirteen, fifteen, or sixteen. For us, the transitional period was nineteen. That was the time when your magic started changing from your childhood to more adult levels. Even so, we weren't considered adults until we turned twenty-one. Until then, Ge'llin society saw you as a child. An adolescent.
Either way, it doesn't matter. Witch, Ge'llin, or even human. Today was my birthday, and I had something I needed to get done before the sun rose.
Staying as quiet as I can, I make my way to the back door. Even before I step outside, I know it's cold. It hits my bare legs when I step outside, silently shutting the door before making my way to the farthest part of the yard.
Steph's house doesn't look so large from the front, but their backyard was long, and when you walked to the edge of the fence, you could barely see the house anymore. That was good. I needed privacy.
Glancing around to make sure no one's about, I take off my clothes, setting them next to a tree. The wind hits my naked skin, and I shiver, but I can't stop what I'm doing.
Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I open my energy to the universe for the first time in months.