Magic of Home: an Uncollected Anthology story Read Online Free

before she’d gone on this quest to free a gentle spirit enslaved by evil, she wouldn’t have presumed that any Merlin powerful enough to cast the spell would be a man. Perhaps she’d spent too much time in the company of men who believed all women, magic folk or not, were their inferiors. She wondered what they would think if they knew three changeling women and a slip of a female elf had beaten their powerful enforcer.
    The three of them—Twig, the Merlin, and Jocko—made their way to the end of a deserted pier with the motorcycles so the Merlin could cast her spells. The sky was still clear overhead, although a hint of the coming day blushed the skyline a deep rose on the eastern horizon.
    From where they stood, Twig could see the shadowy outline of Marlette Island across the bay. The musty smell of seawater and the sight of the tall pines of her kin’s enclave silhouetted against the night sky made Twig’s heart ache for home.
    Or at least that’s what she told herself.
    The first to be freed from its prison was the beast.
    It was hideous to look at, its proportions so wrong that it hurt her eyes. The harsh tone of its magic grated on Twig’s nerves. More spirit than flesh, it fled into the darkness in the west, chasing the waning night. It didn’t pause to look back at them or thank them for their efforts.
    Jocko snorted. “Good riddance.”
    Twig couldn’t agree more.
    Before she moved to the second motorcycle, the Merlin gave Twig a long look. “You might want to say your goodbyes now,” she said. “This spirit has been imprisoned too long, its energy is too weak. It may not be able to manifest once I set it free.”
    The Merlin had a kind heart, but Twig shook her head. “Don’t make it wait any longer,” she said.
    Goodbyes were for sentimental fools. Twig would take whatever comfort she might need in knowing that her friend was free.
    This time when the Merlin worked her spell, a gentle breeze seemed to emanate from the motorcycle. The breeze brushed Twig’s face with the scent of a salt water spray kissed by the sun. The magic that touched her heart was filled with the kind of joy Twig had only known as a child when she’d been rocked, safe and sound, in her grandmother’s arms.
    She choked back a sob as her friend’s magic enveloped her, its tones soft and melodious.
    Home , said the familiar voice she’d heard in her heart all these months, and then, thank you, my friend.
    The water spirit held her for a moment longer, and then it left, diving deep into the bay it called home.
    Twig swiped at her cheeks, annoyed with her tears, until she glanced at Jocko and noticed that his face was wet as well. She decided not to mention it.
    The blush to the east was turning into a rosy glow. Twig needed to pay the Merlin so she could leave before the fishermen and dockside vendors arrived to start their day.
    “I don’t have much,” Twig said, “but whatever I have is yours.”
    The Merlin shook her head. “Not necessary.”
    Twig wasn’t sure she’d heard right. Merlins who dabbled in unlicensed magic tended to be an unethical, greedy bunch.
    She glanced at Jocko. The Merlin was the changeling’s contact, which meant Jocko might have a better idea what was expected. He’d wiped away his own tears, and while he wasn’t exactly scowling, he didn’t look happy either.
    “There’s always a price,” he said.
    “Yes, there is,” the Merlin agreed. “You’re not the ones to pay it. You’re the ones who put things right.”
    Twig got it.
    There was a price, all right. Since Gillfoil wasn’t around to pay, the Merlin would be seeking her due from the rest of the gang. Twig wondered if the water spirit had told the Merlin where to find them.
    After they parted company with the Merlin, Twig and Jocko rolled the motorcycles down the pier toward the street. The motorcycles were innocent machines, used by Gillfoil as prisons, yet Twig felt uneasy climbing on the back of the motorcycle she’d