Kyle held perfectly still, her mind focused on the image in front of her with the same attention she might’ve poured into the last few minutes of a raid. Only instead of snap-decisions and rapidly assessing the state of a digital battle, here it was all about focus. She could think of nothing else, consider nothing else. The “spell” required total precision.
Kyle didn’t even open her eyes, for fear that the room around her would be enough of a distraction to break her concentration. Everything was prepared for this moment—she’d fed the baby, controlled the temperature and the lights. She would have used a sensory deprivation tank if they had one.
As she rested, thoughts of her failure kept fighting their way back to the surface. Her sister had been drawn into this nightmare because of her. She’d had days of magical practice, and still not seen anything approaching meaningful success. Kyle was a failure.
But she wasn’t alone anymore. Whether it was just Kara’s involvement that had persuaded her parents to finally take an active role, or just the time for them to adjust to the current impossible, she wasn’t alone. As furious as she was that Kara had been dragged into all this, Kara’s company did mean someone to help with the baby. And lots of other things.
It meant that Kyle didn’t have to constantly question her own sanity.
Without warning, without any hint of what was happening, Kyle’s perception shifted. The meaningless configuration of symbols weren’t just shapes, they were an equation. It was like the moment she’d first understood the formula for the volume of a cylinder. These shapes were something similar, but for light. Her own body provided the energy in, and focused the energy out.
Kyle’s horn began to glow, a soft purple that matched her eyes. But this was far brighter than the illumination accompanying her telekinesis—this was light for its own sake, with an intensity specified by the symbols she’d been given.
Kyle opened her eyes—she was splayed on the mattress in her oversized bed, with every light switched off. But the room wasn’t dark anymore. She moved slowly, afraid that even the slightest perturbation might wreck her concentration and dissolve the spell.
That proved harder than she had initially worried. The equation wasn’t gone just because she wasn’t as focused on it. She could feel the invisible exertion, the same one she had to use whenever she lifted something. This would drain her stamina the same way as any exercise. That was probably why Fay acted so tired after attacking someone with her powers.
I’m older and bigger than she is, I should have more power to work with. Right?
Kyle stumbled out of bed, moving slowly enough that she could keep up the spell. It wasn’t that hard to keep the glow going, but if she let it die, it might be too hard to cast the spell again.
She took her laptop in her teeth, pulling it onto the bed and flipping it open with her nose. She’d had enough practice over the last week of being a horse not to break things accidentally. Her magic was far more dangerous.
Of course, she wouldn’t be able to type with her mouth, not with any speed. Could she keep up the light spell and move things around at the same time?
Kyle tried, focusing on the keyboard again. She brought up the email client. By now she was half-expecting that her mythical mentor would already have sent her something. But no, Monday hadn’t sent any new messages.
She typed quickly, writing out a message to the wizard. She tried to get specific with the details of how it felt, enough that it would be convincing. At this rate I’m never going to move on to the magic needed to change us back. But she didn’t send that much. She couldn’t get annoyed or needy, or else her companion might not reply.
Their spell worked. Maybe the agreement to apprentice with Monday had been a fluke. But the spell worked. She could see the logic behind it now, the meaning in those symbols. If only she had more of them, she might’ve been able to try a different spell…
She ended her message with a timid request for more of the symbols, enough that she could rewrite the values of the light spell and play with different configurations. Hopefully that wouldn’t suggest she wanted nothing else but light.
She’d probably been hiding for a little too long, even with her sister to keep an eye on the baby. Kyle sent the message, then flipped the screen closed.
Her horn kept glowing, so long as she kept concentrating. The light was dimmer than before, as though somehow a measurement of her strength depleting over time. But it was still there, even when she wasn’t lifting anything.
Kyle paused to check herself in the mirror, and with her focus the light grew even brighter than before.
A full week as a horse had done strange things to her. The mane was now entirely out of control without anyone to style it, its different colors no longer gracefully layered. Her eyes were baggy with late nights studying magic, and her tail swished nervously no matter what she was doing.
But she was still here, that was the important thing. Fay hadn’t blown up the house, animal control hadn’t dragged them away for study as the dangerous aliens they were. She hadn’t been sent out into the wilderness with Kara never to be seen again.
She pushed the door open with a shoulder, and was momentarily blinded by the light streaming in from out front. Her spell flickered for a second, then died as the pain in her head dissolved the pattern. “Dammit.”
“And the avenging hero returns,” called Kara from down the hall, somewhere between annoyed and relieved. “About time, this little monster is getting antsy. I don’t think she likes it when mommy stays away for too long.”
Kyle emerged from down the hall a moment later, glaring at her. She didn’t even bother starting an argument over it, though. Fay clearly did see her as her mother.
Something soft and pink collided with her at chest level, so unexpectedly that she nearly fell over. She squeaked in surprise, then caught the baby in her wings before she could get away. “What have you been up to, troublemaker? Not burning the house down I hope.”
Fay squealed and babbled incomprehensibly, though there was something decidedly smug in the sound. You are way too smart for your age. Whatever that age was.
Kara had obviously been trying to work, however difficult Fay made it. The kitchen table was covered in schoolwork, with their books piled up in the center. She had to do everything with her mouth, which obviously hadn’t been easy for her. Kara’s usually flawless handwriting now looked more like Kyle’s own.
“It looks like we’re cheating the other way,” Kyle muttered, stopping beside the table. “Or you got a brain injury.”
Kara stuck out her tongue, pulling the sheets away from him. “Do you want me to cheat for you or not, bro?”
“Sorry, sorry.” She pulled over a cushion, their current substitute for real chairs. Even if they weren’t grossly oversized, the usual range of human sitting motions required for chairs weren’t terribly comfortable for them now. Besides, that meant she could set the baby down in front of her to have some freedom wandering around without worrying she was going to fall off something.
“I’m not just doing it because—” Kara went on. “Not that I don’t want to be supportive, Kyle. But you’ve gotta start pulling your weight around here if you want me to keep doing your work for you.”
I want to get back to the real world too, she thought. She didn’t need the printed spell diagram this time—she’d been staring at it for so long that she could call it back with a little focus. Her horn started glowing, bright enough that she could fight the light of the window. “You mean like this?”
Kara’s mouth hung open. Fay, meanwhile, squirmed away from her, trotting a few steps. She didn’t seem to mind living in the abandoned wing nearly as much as she’d hated the stables, though there were still signs of her magic wherever Kyle looked. The window was the most notable example, which was now faintly blue glass instead of clear, surrounded with crystal molding set with little hearts.
“Okay yeah, exactly like that.” She was at her side in seconds, one leg wrapped around her shoulder. “What did you do? Was the printout not good enough?”
Kyle lifted a wing to her mouth, silencing her. She was getting better at controlling those too, even if the idea of doing anything with them was still well out of reach. “The spell diagram wasn’t just something pointless to memorize, it’s a… it’s a logical system that makes the magic work. It was just about seeing it in the right way. So long as I concentrate…”
The spell faded, and she went on. “Don’t get too excited, Kara. I got some pieces to a light spell, I can’t rewrite that into changing us back.”
“But they worked,” she said, voice eager. “We’re finally moving. If magic is like any other skill, it’s probably harder to start than to progress. You’ll only get faster from here.”
“Yeah,” Kyle agreed, without any confidence in her voice. “I mean… probably. I wrote to Monday before coming back out here, so hopefully they get back to us soon. I like our odds way more than our chances of hearing back from Grandpa.”
Kara turned away, ears flattening. For the first few days, she’d tried to struggle into some of her clothes, but they’d both given up on that now. With a sewing machine they might be able to make something work, but nothing either of them owned would fit.
Kara had an old sewing machine, and a few bolts of fabric. But she spent far more time doing homework and helping with Fay than on trying to sew things with her mouth.
“I know you don’t really pay attention to how things were going with the family, bro—” She paused for a moment, as though waiting for Kyle to object. She didn’t, though, Kara was exactly right. There was no reason to be upset about the truth. “Grandpa never just says things. Mom and Dad are probably furious about what happened to me… but they can’t just keep him away forever. We need help. He’s going to find a way to make Dad give in.”
“And waste our time,” Kyle supplied. “I don’t think we learned a single useful thing from having them here. That stupid doctor wanted a milk sample. Like that would help us change back.”
Kara shook her head. “It’s stupid, but it’s not stupid for no reason. If we’re lucky, maybe he’ll find something? Those doctors were weird. Maybe he hired like… government people, like from Area 51 or whatever.”
Kyle didn’t question the absurdity of that suggestion, not when she was an oversized magical horse caring for a baby of terrible power.
Someone knocked on the back door, and both of them turned. It was Mom, holding a tray of food in both arms. She didn’t hurry away this time, which was a first for her.
Fay did, retreating around the corner and poking her head out. After her encounter with the doctors, she’d been nervous whenever her parents got close. Probably that fear translated to all strangers.
Kara opened the door, poking her head outside. “Not worried we’re contagious anymore?”
“You’re not,” Mom said. “We’ve just found out… well, a few things. None of us are going to change just being near you. The alien caused this, and she’s the only one who could make it happen again.”
Like we needed Grandpa’s weird doctors to tell us that. Kyle rose, hurrying over to the table. She took the tray in her magic, levitating it into the kitchen. Mom pulled her hands back quickly, shivering. “Well that’s… Nevermind. How are you two holding up?”
“Stir crazy,” Kara answered. “And bored. Pretty much how you’d expect from being stuck in the house for a week straight. Can we at least go out into the backyard again?”
Mom sighed, taking another step back. “That won’t be an issue anymore. That new information… Well, let’s just say that the danger of staying here is too great. We’re going out to the country, all of us. The truck will be here tonight.”