Free Night Myst by Yasmine Galenorn

gets the training she needs.” Heather’s accusations echoed up the stairs.
    “Fuck you and fuck the Society,” my mother would counter. “I don’t give a crap about family tradition or magical powers. I never asked to be born with this fucking ability, and I wish somebody would just rip it out of my head. Do you know what it’s like, being able to hear voices all the time? The voices of people who laugh at you? Who think you’re a slut just because you want to have a little fun? Do you? ”
    A murmured whisper from Heather.
    Then, Krystal’s voice again. “Well, that’s what I hear every day when I go out. The only things that help drown them out are booze and pills, and let me tell you, I’ll bow down in front of a jug of Gallo faster than I’ll ever kneel at the feet of that sorry-assed Society or that priggish, self-righteous old biddy.”
    “Marta’s just worried about you—”
    “Tell her not to bother!”
    And Krystal would stomp out of the house—the door slamming behind her—and my aunt would cry. Sometimes Heather didn’t cry, though. Sometimes she just remained silent but I could hear her grumbling, all the way up in my room. Her words filtered in on the breeze.
    “Hurry up,” I urged Rhiannon as she lagged behind. “Grieve and Chatter are waiting for us.”
    “How do you know?” she asked, but she quickened her pace. I could run faster and play rougher than she could, but Rhiannon was the graceful one. She could be a dancer, I thought. When she grew up, she could be a ballerina, she was so tall and lithe.
    “They’re waiting. I can hear them. Now come on.”
    I started to run and she followed me. We came to a skidding halt in front of one of the huge old cedars and I bit my lip. Every time we came out here, a little voice whispered that this was a dangerous thing to do, that we could get hurt. But overriding my aunt’s orders and common sense was the absolute need to visit with our odd friends.
    I reached out and knocked on the tree trunk three times. The third time, there was a noise to the left of the path and we turned to see Grieve and Chatter slipping out from behind a bush. They were older—grown-up, but they’d always been polite and nice and never did anything to make us uncomfortable.
    I never thought of them as boys . Boys were loud and obnoxious and only wanted to follow their girlfriends around. Grieve and Chatter never said anything about girls, and they were . . . well . . . different . They weren’t human, we knew that, or magic-born. They were Fae and seemed so very exotic and dangerously strange. We knew all about other Supes in the area, but mostly met others like us.
    Grieve motioned for us to follow them and held the bushes aside as we slipped off the path and into the woods, avoiding the ravine as he led us into a clearing to the left.
    Another moment and we were sitting by a small pond where the trees opened up and the sun actually shone down, scattering light through the branches. I clambered up onto a tree trunk and took a deep breath, inhaling the scents of mushrooms and moss. Rhiannon shyly hopped up beside me. She liked Chatter better than Grieve. He made her laugh.
    “Our time together is coming to an end,” Grieve said, kneeling beside the tree trunk. He had a sad smile on his face and looked like he was going to cry.
    “How come?” I didn’t want our visits to stop. Grieve and Chatter had taught us how to make friends with the Elementals and coax them out to play. At least, sometimes. It didn’t always work, but he said that the more we practiced, the better we’d get at it.
    “Cicely, your mother—” Chatter started to say, but Grieve held up his hand and shook his head.
    “Stop. We’re not allowed to tell her,” he said. “Cicely, everything will be all right. It’s just that we won’t be able to talk to you much longer. Not for a very long time. Years, maybe. And Lainule—you remember the beautiful woman who came with us to talk to you