Free Mulberry Wands by Kater Cheek Page B

The
owls had a name for when that happens. They called it “the day when
the shell and the nest that comforted you were crushed and
scattered like the bones of a mouse.”
    At least, that was how the translators said
it in English. Maybe it sounded different in owl.
    It was Saturday, and he spent it the way he
had spent every other free day: wandering around downtown hoping
against hope that he would run into Susan again. He’d even gotten a
charm to help him, a little bundle of mouse fur and bones that one
of his senpai had given him. It looked like something she coughed
up, but it must have had some magic in it, because as he crossed
Fifth Avenue he saw Susan crossing the street.
    “Susan!” he shouted, almost dropping his
umbrella in his excitement to see her again.
    Susan turned and saw him. A quick flicker of
joy played over her features, but almost immediately after that her
face closed into disgruntled irritation. She’d been carrying a
backpack slung over one shoulder, and she angled her body so it
shielded her from him. Paul was surprised by how much that
stung.
    Susan was not the sort of woman he would have
dated, had he been able to choose anyone. He liked lighthearted,
fun girls, especially those who were hip to the concept of free
love. Susan dressed like a schoolmarm, and she was one of the most
cynical people he’d ever met. She had a great figure, with curves
in all the right places, but she hardly smiled at all. Still, he
knew that to win his way into her confidence, he’d have to pretend
to like her. And in order to pretend to like her, he had to find
the things he actually did like about her, and focus on those.
    First of all, he liked that she was shy about
being a mage. Everyone knew someone who knew someone who could
practice magic, but he’d never met anyone who could do anything
that looked like real mage-craft before he’d seen his senpai turn
from a woman into an owl. He’d met people in high school who said
that they could cast spells to make their grades higher, and when
he and Carlos had the job baling alfalfa, there was a woman among
the work crew whom everyone said was a brujera. She had smoldering
eyes and the ability to make men stop working and stare at her.
He’d never seen her curse anyone, or seen anyone get healed either,
though a few men got into fights over her and one got fired.
    The owls insisted that Susan wasn’t just a
one-spell Annie, selling her anti-mosquito charms at a flea market
table, she was a hereditary mage, a witch and thaumaturge from a
long line. Why hadn’t she said anything about that at the bar?
Instead of bragging about it, or threatening him with it, she hid
this ability of hers, even going so far as to pretend she didn’t
see a bramblemae when it turned invisible. Was she ashamed of this
ability? Maybe mage-craft had become unpopular in the past few
decades. People had changed in so many other ways.
    “Susan, I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I
accidentally washed your number off my arm.”
    “Uh huh,” she said, as though she didn’t
believe him.
    “I’m so glad I ran into you again!” He
grasped her arm. She started to pull away, then stopped. “Let’s go
have a drink.”
    “I’m going shopping,” she said, as if she
expected that would end the conversation.
    “Can I come with you?” Paul winced, imagining
holding her purse while she tried on shoes. Well, the will of the
parliament had to be obeyed. “Sounds like fun.”
    Susan raised her eyebrows. After a moment,
she gestured with her head. “My car’s over this way.”
    She led the way down two blocks to her car,
not speaking until they were there, and then only apologizing for
the mess in her passenger seat. The car, like most modern cars, had
a strangely sleek shape.
    “What make of car is this?” Inside it smelled
like artificial berry, as the pink tree hanging from the dash just
about knocked him over with its scent. He rolled down the window
and to keep his eyes from