(x) Irregular Magic

chapter 26 - home, sweet, home

Chapter 26

They had hardly touched down on the soft grassy hills of Wickerham Quarter when L broke their grip. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him discreetly wipe his palm on his cloak. Annoyance crept up but before it could really take hold of her, Mattie turned to the familiar trees that dotted the rolling hills. A soft breeze rippled through the grasses, reminding her of a chartreuse yellow sea. She closed her eyes and drew a breath, allowing the familiarity of the place pull her back to a time when she didn't have to worry about her safety. It was true she had felt suffocated, forced to stay at home, but back then, she hadn't been so helpless.

A finger jabbed her in the ribs, pulling her out of the momentary calm. "Don't tell me you live in a hut or something," said L, smacking his lips in distaste. His eyes were surveying the endless hills around them, observing but not seeing. She watched him and the corner of her lip twitched. For some reason, L not being able to find her home gave her the tiniest bit of hope that Somerhall Manor was still safe. "Your place from before is much better than here. Even if there's nothing left of it."

Mattie ignored him and yanked her sleeve up, exposing her wrist. With the pad of her finger, she carefully pressed the inked symbol there—a rearing lion. It was a tattoo several years old, and the ink was so faded that it was nearly impossible to see unless you knew it was there. The ink abruptly changed to a bright glowing blue, and for a moment it seemed that the lion winked at her. For a moment, nothing changed. Then she blinked.

The immense heavy gates of Somerhall Manor stood before her, and a three-dimensional bronze replica of the lion that was imprinted on her wrist stared back, its head mounted on the gates. She touched the cold, bronze nose and tried to ride out the waves of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. Her immediate relief at having come home was fading, replaced by trepidation at what she would find inside. Her instincts had never failed her before, and right now they were screaming a warning at her.

Don't go in!

"Neat. What did you do?"

His voice snatched her back into reality. Her hand slinked back to her side.

"Don't worry about it," she said testily and pushed open the gates. The corner of her mind that was still operating logically and steadily ticking marveled at the magicked gates, as she had when she was tinier than she was now, and still could move the gates as if they were made of feathers. This was only the case if someone with Somerhall blood touched them; they wouldn't even budge if a hundred strong men tried. The enormous wooden doors, which worked using a similar mechanism, swung open, allowing her entrance.

As Mattie tread the halls of her childhood home, she tried her best to look like she belonged there and not like a stranger. The enormous portrait of her parents hanging in the foyer was nearly her undoing. Her mother looked stern as ever, and Michaelo, with his arms wrapped around his wife, was giving her a placating smile. She had never really given much thought to it, but the artist had done an impressive job capturing this subtlety of her parents' relationship. Mattie tore her eyes away from her father's face before she could dissolve into tears again and continued her march through the foyer, though her legs felt like jelly.

Though the manor itself was grand and impressive as ever, signs of disuse were everywhere. A thin sheen of dust covered the tables and vases, and lights flickered on and off. The effect was to give her home a haunted feel. The hundreds of spells that kept the manor impeccably clean had not been renewed, and there were no signs of life anywhere. Warning bells went off in her head.

"How does someone like you live here?" L asked her from behind. She jumped, having forgotten yet again that she wasn't alone. When she glanced back, she realized his bare feet were padding along. Coupled with his cat-like grace, they made him nearly silent.