Free Embers by Laura Bickle

undulate in the haze.

    The little girl from the pickle lady’s pop machine faced Anya. She tipped her head to one side, and a barrette grazed the shoulder of her dress. She pointed to the darkness.

    “Sirrush is coming.”

    Anya knelt down on the slippery floor before the girl. “Sweetie, I don’t know what that means. Who is Sirrush?”

    The girl stared at her with glassy eyes. “Sirrush is fire.”

    CHAPTER FOUR

    ANYA AWOKE WITH A GASP and hissing from the cats and salamander at her feet. The cats, disturbed by her movement, scrambled away. Sparky lifted his head, skin on his back rippling.

    Katie froze, her hands resting on Anya’s collarbones in a V-shaped position. “What did you say?”

    Anya swallowed. Her mouth tasted scorched. “I didn’t say anything. I was dreaming. . . I think.”

    Katie narrowed her eyes. “You said, ‘Sirrush is coming.’”

    Anya sighed. “I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.”

    Katie finished the Reiki session in silence, pressing her hands over her heart, solar plexus, waist, and knees. Anya turned over, dislodging Sparky, so that Katie could work the Reiki hand positions on her back. Sparky uncurled himself, his tail spiraling, and yawned. He padded away in search of the cats. Katie finished sitting at Anya’s feet, holding her bare feet in her hands with her head bowed over them. Anya’s skin prickled and buzzed. The sensation ebbed away when Katie let go.

    “I’ll bring you some water,” Katie told her. “Relax now.”

    Anya turned over and stretched. She stared at the ceiling. The dream felt close, still roiling in her chest. Katie’s energy work usually left her feeling calm and energized, but she couldn’t help but feel that the dream had interrupted the process, leaving a metallic taste in her mouth and a sense of unease in its wake.

    Katie returned with a glass of water and sat cross-legged beside her. “Tell me about this dream.” Her freckled face was carefully blank, but Anya could see the agitation in her hands as she fingered her bracelets.

    Anya sat up and drank the cool water. In between sips, she told Katie about the dreams. The telling and the water seemed to rinse the taste of iron from her mouth. Katie listened carefully, stroking the edge of a bracelet.

    When Anya had finished, the witch frowned. “When I was aligning your energy, I felt something shift. It flared for a second.”

    Anya blinked quizzically at her.

    “Well. . . everyone’s energy patterns are unique. When I do energy work for myself, I visualize my aura as being a curtain of blue light, like a stage curtain at a theater production. I imagine pulling the wrinkles out of it and brushing the dust off.” Katie passed her hands in front of her body. “I think of your particular aura as like the surface of the sun. Dark spots, like sunspots, occasionally bubble up and I try to use Reiki to even them out. But what I felt in this last session was like. . . a solar flare. Your aura twitched and receded.”

    “Um. . . so what does that mean?”

    “I don’t know for sure. But, if I had to guess, I’d say it was a reflexive reaction to stress or something you felt was invading your space. It felt angry, hostile.”

    “So that was the spiritual equivalent of kicking the doctor when he hits your knee with the little hammer?” Anya winced. “Sorry.”

    Katie’s blue eyes were serious and Anya’s joking tone faded. “You mentioned Sirrush.”

    “He’s the king of the salamanders, right? Like Sparky.” Anya envisioned a salamander wearing a crown, chewing on a light-up scepter more impressive than Sparky’s Gloworm.

    Katie shook her head. “Not like Sparky. Sparky’s a fire elemental, sure. But there are different levels of elementals, a hierarchy. I’ll show you.” Katie stood up, rummaged through her bookshelves. The shelves lining the walls were in no discernible classification order, stained country cookbooks intermingled with paperback gardening