Wildcat Fireflies by Amber Kizer Read Free Book Online Page A

brought her joy and comfort. I started to act as a scribe; her words were something to hang on to in the years ahead without her. One day she woke up lucid, the common sense back in hereyes. She was grounded in this world for a brief time, but she grabbed my hand and hung on with the strength of a young man and told me, ‘Open the windows, I need to let the light in.’ ”
    Open windows? A shiver quivered up my spine and made goose bumps rise.
    He continued. “When I raised the sash she began singing a lullaby I’d never heard before. For a week, the only words I could understand were requests to open the window. I did. I finally did and she settled.
    “When she died I found scrolls, scraps of drawings and paintings, tucked into a box that must have come from Wales, and a little book written in ink, from Ireland. She must have put them together when Da passed. None of my brothers or sisters are what you’d call inclined toward difficult explanation. They like neat and tidy, technologically sound explanations for the world. I’ve always seen beyond; I’ve traveled and lived on every continent, experienced other realms with shamans and Buddhist monks. I’m an omnist. We don’t see much eye to eye. Ma said I was of the ‘home kind.’ ” He stopped, lost in thought.
    After a few minutes of silence Tens asked, “What does this have to do with us?”
    Rumi smiled but scolded, “Patience, my friend. I’m distilling generations into five minutes.”
    I reached behind me for Tens’s hand, expecting him to react badly to the chastisement. Instead, he chuckled around an exhalation and pulled a second ivy chair next to mine. “Sorry.” He gave the word ungrudgingly.
    Rumi shook off the apology and continued. “The sketches were of human beings entwined in windows, windows with scenery and watercolor miniatures of these balls. I’d heard of the English Witch Ball, of course.”
    Or not
. “Which is what?” I asked.
    “The lore says the bright colors attract mischievous evil spirits and then trap them within the sphere. Other stories say the colors and light refraction are repellent to the darkness, and evil can’t enter an establishment with these hanging as protection. Either way, they’re good to have around. Those who could afford them brought them when they came to the New World, or went on any significant journey.”
    “Okay.” I nodded.
    “But the fascinating part in Ma’s box happened when I started to find these bits of other traditions that said these balls weren’t about evil spirits at all, but signals to angels, and their kindred, that they were welcome to rest and find solace within the walls. My family’s writings said the Witch Balls attracted the angels of ‘Good Death’; they signaled to the light that darkness was repelled there. That the window between life and death was always open. And served as a warning of Bad Death by darkening before the demons arrived.”
    He leapt and picked up a ball, and brought it over to me. He held it out, but I was almost afraid to touch it. Tens took it.
    “See the bare winter tree in there?” Rumi traced the pattern along the outside of another ball.
    “Sure,” Tens grunted. I nodded.
    “That design is the Tree of Life. It’s an important differential. This is what gives it the power to signal.” He paused, staring into the ball. “I think. I’m making that part up, but it’s my best hypothesis. And mayhap something to do with the intent, the incantation said while creating the Stone.”
    “Like calling Batman?” I snorted.
    “Maybe. You tell me?” His expression was reverent.
    I hated to disappoint him, but I said, “I don’t think so.”
    His expression went from excited to crestfallen. “Well, I started trying it. Figuring out how to get exactly that design in each one. They don’t all take. And people love them. More so than any plain, ordinary glass ball I’ve ever made. Take fishing floats—I thought people liked those until I