Is It Right?

Is it Right? Part 2

I blinked, looking at him. His eyes were hazel daggers peeking beneath his bushy eyebrows.

"You saying I'm arrogant?"

Yancey took a deep sip. "You're something. I just can't remember the proper word."

I was at a loss for words. Who did he think he was? He didn't know me. But my spell did find him to be the best suited. So I squeezed the mug, took a deep breath and stopped bearing down.

"Some context may help."

"Of course," Yancey said, "you've acknowledged that you've heard of arcani who sell their magical services in the mundane world. You have no qualms or objections to them. Yet you've wound yourself up so tight that you cast a powerful locator spell tied to a teleportation spell. You could have made an appointment with a psychologist and spoken in figuratives and hypotheticals."

"I needed direct, open dialogue."

"Fair enough. So the arcane community has no qualms about one using personal knowledge to make a profit from the mundanes. So it's not our kind which is inhibiting you."

"Of course not. Also I don't want to publish for the money. It's just to share a story."

"Hmm...tell me about your life in this town."

"It's a great town. Kinda big town, small city. Really self-reliant, few tourists. There's a strong sense of community so everyone feels like family."

"So you have a favorite restaurant. You know people on sight, a barista knows your usual drink."

"Yeah."

"So maybe it's them."

"Huh?"

"Do you have similar connections in the arcane community?"

"Not exactly."

"Then there. While our profession grounds you in magic, you still cherish your mortal roots and home. When you publish your book, they'll read it. Judge it. Judge you. I think that's what scares you."

"They know I've written it." I almost laughed. "I'm excited for them to read it."

"Really and honestly?"

"Yes."

"Hmm...then, if not to protect you from them...then to protect them from you."

My heart fluttered, yet no response.

Yancey leaned forward. "You've already taken precautions with your story. Changing names, keeping the magic subtle. But it could and will intrigue and captivate readers. The locals will compliment, comment, question. They may come over at an inopportune time. See something they shouldn't, become caught in a crossfire, who knows. You don't want to jeopardize their safety."

I stared at my coco, the sweet steam stroked my cheeks.

"They're the only family I have. Ever since I came here I've done my best, subtly, to help them. As a town or individual. A few times I've protected them from magical things."

"But you've never done anything, given any cause or reason to entice them to you. To your world. You fear this story will do just that and, should they be hurt-even if you save them-it will be your fault."

I didn't reply, I didn't need to. He was right and he knew it.

"Well, for one, publish it under fiction."

I chuckled.

"Second, do a reading at the schools or library so the townsfolk can ask their questions when and where you're ready and prepared. And, to be safe, you can put a sign on your fence or something. Finally, have faith in your family. This family bond isn't in your head. All small towns operate this way. They respect you, have faith they'll respect your privacy and home to not barge over. And maybe faith in yourself. That even though this will pique their curiosity and interest, you'll still be able to protect your family."

Yancey finished his coco and cleaned it with a wave.

"Is your backyard spacious?"

"Y-es."

"Good. If I've fulfilled your request, which I sense I have, I'll head home."

I lead him out the kitchen through the parlor and conservatory to the backyard. Freud, my topiary elephant, had fallen asleep by the pond. His gentle snores blew the lily pads about. Richie, a topiary lion, woke at our approach. A few garden sculptures peeked from the gardens.

"So, is your path clear?"

"Yes, thank you for your help Yancey."

"Glad to help Rutherford." He looked around the garden and chose a spot on the open lawn. "You may want to step back."

I did so and he unfastened the buttons of his jacket. He rolled his neck, looked to the sky. He opened his mouth and sucked in a great breath. From my distance I could sense it was more a swallow, He'd inhaled magic.

He spread his arms and fingers, stood on tiptoes. A silence fell, like a quiet before a storm. He rolled back on his heels, bent over, his arms wrapped about him. His body alighted with magic energy. It burst from his skin, wove through his clothes. Suddenly he leapt, arms spread, a being crackling with magic. He flapped his arms as he shrunk and squashed. He'd swoop, circle and dive. But when the last magic light faded, he was a peregrine falcon.

He screeched, gave a little wave goodbye and flew off. I watched until I couldn't see him. I blinked and gaped, slowly turning to the house. The garden was awake, they'd all seen the transformation. They looked at me expectantly.

"I am too tired to shape shift."

They grudgingly returned to their beds. Richie gave me a snort.

"Hey I can too shape shift. I just don't do it often."

Back in the den I opened my email and composed a letter.

"Dear Mrs Trumble,

As you know I've been writing a book. I'm proud to say that tonight I published it on Amazon. It will be available as both paperback and e-book. It would be terrific if I could do a reading at the library at some point. Please let me know if this is something we could arrange.

Thank you,

Rudy Rellington"

I sent the letter to the library. Then I refreshed my Amazon page, signed in and pulled up by book.

"No Good Spell", by R.P Rellington

"One would think being a freelance sorcerer would be fun, easy work. Nope. Living at his parent's old home, Garrett struggles to put his magic to good use. His family has PLENTY of ideas, but they involve rejoining the guild. No thanks. Then Garrett gets the chance. But it's not as simple as it first appeared. Soon he's in deep and thinking he should have kept his magic to himself. For his and his town's sake."

The book wouldn't be available for a few days. But still.

I took a deep breath. "Gotta have faith."

I hit publish.