A Circle of Ashes Read Free

wasn’t even there anymore. “So are we joined now?”
    We looked at each other, and I sent out a systems check to see if I felt different.
    “I’m not sure,” said Clio. “I don’t know if the spell had time to work or what.”
    But as I stood there, I realized that I was picking up stuff from Clio—I could
feel
her next to me, but not physically. It was like I felt a form, a shape, next to me. Not like a ghost. Not even human-looking. But it was Clio, definitely Clio. I felt her puzzlement and excitement. I felt fear in myself, but not from her.
    “Hey. Is that you?” I asked.
    Looking amazed, Clio laughed and nodded. “I feel you too. It’s like—Flubber. Like a Flubber Thais, only I can’t see it. This is way cool.”
    “It’s strange,” I said. “I wonder if it works when we’re farther apart.”
    “I guess we’ll find out,” she said, grinning.
    At dawn I went back to Axelle’s. I still didn’t know how Axelle Gauvin had wrangled custody of me after Dad had died. A spell? Strings pulled? I hoped that Petra would come back soon and that I’d be able to live with her and Clio when she did.
    In the meantime, all my stuff was in Axelle’s apartment, in the French Quarter.
    At dawn, in September, it was about eighty-five degrees. I walked down narrow, almost quiet streets, thinking how pretty the Quarter was with not many people in it. Later today it would be crowded and noisy and smell like beer and sunscreen.
    I was still awed by the spell with Clio. I mean, I had gotten thrown eight feet across a room. By magick. It was hard to believe. Except I had a knot on my head to prove it. Clio said she would try to figure out what had gone wrong, but if she’d never even heard of anything like that happening…
    I used my key and went through the wroughtiron side gate that led to Axelle’s apartment. The narrow carriageway was cool and damp, and I could barely hear my shoes on the ancient flagstones, worn by centuries of use. The small courtyard was a mini-Eden, with birds fluttering around the subtropical plants that lined the tiny swimming pool.
    And here was Axelle’s front door. Despite feeling shaken by last night’s spell, a new strength had solidified in me, and I felt complete and sure of myself. I opened the door and went in. As usual, the scent of cigarette smoke made my nostrils twitch. It was cool and dark inside, and as I shut the door, Minou, Axelle’s cat, ran past my legs into the apartment.
    “Thais.”
    My eyes were adjusting to the dim light, and I saw Axelle lying on her black leather couch. Putting aside the newspaper she was reading, she stood and came over to me.
    “You’re up early. Catching up on current events?” I said evenly, moving into the kitchen.
    “Up all night. Reading the comics.” Her dark shiny pageboy swung right at her chin, every hair in place. She might have been awake for the previous twenty-four hours, but you’d never be able to tell. “So you stayed out all night. Another wasp attack?”
    “More like shock and horror over my family’s history.” Not looking at her, I poured myself some orange juice and put two slices of bread into the toaster.
    “Shock? Okay, I’ll give you that. You had a lot dumped on you yesterday. But horror?” Her red lips formed a smile. She poured herself a glass of juice, then got a bottle of vodka from the top of the fridge. She splashed some into her orange juice and took an appreciative sip. It was barely 7 a.m.
    “Thais,” she said, with a warm, almost seductive note in her voice, “you’ve been handed the opportunity of a lifetime. The chance to become immortal—it’s what fantasies are made of.”
    “Or nightmares,” I said. “You guys, the ones I’ve met so far—the Treize—you’re not exactly the poster kids for health and happiness.”
    Axelle stretched, her lithe, catlike body arching. “You might be surprised at how much pleasure one can experience with an endless lifetime to pursue