Free Spirits of Ash and Foam by Greg Weisman Page B

down.
    â€œI, uh, I just want to see how it looks…”
    â€œOn a real woman!” Charlie offered, trying to be helpful.
    Rain turned on him. “What is that supposed to mean? I’m not real enough for you?”
    â€œNo, I didn’t mean real. Older. On an older woman.”
    Both Rain and Iris shot the boy a sour face. ’Bastian tilted his head away and scratched one spectral eyebrow with a phantom pinky. Poor kid’s doomed now.
    Charlie corrected again. “Grown-up. A grown-up woman. An … uh … I’ll just be quiet now.”
    For a second, Rain was annoyed enough to have lost track of why they were there. Charlie pleaded with his eyes and then nodded toward the zemi .
    Still frowning, Rain turned back to her mother. “Ignore him. It’s just … I want to see how it looks against your skin from a distance.” Charlie could see Rain was proud of the feeble fib, and he was relieved she had found her smile again.
    Iris wasn’t exactly convinced, but at this point it seemed easier to comply. She took the snake charm from Rain and placed it on her left wrist. She waved her hand in the air. “How’s this?”
    Rain glanced at ’Bastian and said, “Let me just step back.”
    She did, and ’Bastian stepped forward. “Iris? Little Flower? It’s me. It’s your father. Can you see me? Can you hear me?”
    But Iris was unaware of his presence and was considerably more curious about her daughter’s strange behavior. She watched Rain stare at her and then away. Charlie was doing something similar. She decided this was some inside joke at her expense. “All right, what’s going on here? What do you keep looking at, Rain?”
    â€œNothing,” Rain said wistfully as ’Bastian’s head sank sadly. “It’s just … just the light reflecting off the charm. It makes pretty patterns on the wall.”
    Iris turned and waved her arm again, discovering that this much at least was true. A mosaic of light, mostly gold but with flecks of blue, glinted in time to her movements on the wall behind the washing machine. Iris also discovered there was something about wearing her father’s wristband that made her melancholy—a feeling she had been struggling to fight off since he had passed. Quickly, she removed it and handed it back to Rain.
    â€œOkay, are we done?”
    Rain and Charlie both looked disappointed, though Iris could hardly fathom why. She picked up the laundry basket and started up the back stairs.
    Just then the front desk bell rang. Iris paused a few steps up. “Rain, please see what that is.”
    â€œSure, Mom,” Rain said, and Iris couldn’t help but notice the same melancholy in her daughter’s voice. She watched Rain and Charlie head into the kitchen toward the lobby. Then she shook her head and ascended the stairs.
    The two teens—with ’Bastian almost literally in tow—crossed through the dark dining room and entered the warm light of the lobby to find Ms. Judith Vendaval waiting.
    â€œCan I help you?” Rain asked.
    â€œYes, I was hoping you could recommend a place to eat here in Old Town.”
    â€œSure,” Rain said. “There are a bunch of places.” She looked at Charlie for confirmation, but as this was the woman Charlie had slammed the door on upstairs, he was currently doing his best to make himself as invisible as ’Bastian. Rain shook her head and turned back. “Are you in the mood for anything in particular?”
    â€œNot just anything. Everything. The famous don’t-miss places and the local haunts that no tourist knows about. See, I write travel books, and my next one’s on the Ghosts.”
    â€œThat’s kinda cool,” Rain said. She found herself studying Ms. Vendaval intently. The woman was truly striking. So much so that after seeing her only once the night she’d checked in,