#jumbi

           “Oh mon Dieu!” Patrick cried upon Evan’s haggard return. “Où est Jumbi?”

           The two had met up in the old motel. Evan decided they’d have to get out of the dingy place and buy a proper home. Evan nodded toward the bathroom and Patrick followed him in.

           “Ici,” He replied, pulling off his backpack and turning it over. Jumbi slid out of his bag and puddled on the floor. She scrabbled at the tile flooring, pulling her legs back together, her spine. Her tail and wings dripped. She picked up the drippings as one picks up lost bits of clay and stuck them to her flanks.

           Patrick stared. He glanced at Evan before returning his eyes to the struggling dragon. “Ah, is dragons supposed to be drippy?”

           Evan shrugged. “I’m not even sure she’s a dragon, honestly, after all this. We came across a cave full of familiars during our trip. They all looked more put-together.”

           “Are you not worried she will die?”

           Evan looked away at the question, rubbing an old patch on his elbow between his thumb and pointer finger. The world would probably be better off without Jumbi, and yet… He thought of Kendra, just for a moment. “She’ll pull through. Right, Jumbi?”

           Jumbi wobbled on her feet, knees buckled like a baby giraffe’s. When she opened her mouth to reply, though, all the rest of the gold she’d been storing came up her throat and spilled out on the floor, covered in purple blood. Patrick jumped back, but Evan knelt down and put his hand on Jumbi’s head.

           “You can do it, Jumbi. Come on.”

           Jumbi stared at Evan, then frowned as she refilled with resolve. Her wings took shape, the end of her tail fluffed out.

           “Much better,” Evan nodded and stood up to embrace Patrick, finally. “Je vous ai manqué,” He breathed onto Patrick’s bare cheek. He missed the clean-cut man, with his stylish haircut and ocean-warm eyes.

           Patrick smiled. “You need a shave,” He replied.

           Jumbi stared between the two of them, only catching on to half the conversation. Patrick kneeled down next to her and she scooted away toward the plastic shower cubicle. He made sure not to come closer.

           “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jumbi.” His smile grew thinner, and Jumbi recognized the mirror of Evan’s concern. She bowed her head once in agreement.

           Evan toweled off Jumbi’s coins as Patrick made small talk at Jumbi’s huddled form, frowning at the purple stain on the white, bare cloth. They could buy a whole house with this kind of money. What was Jumbi doing with all this gold?

           “Jumbi, why did you have so much money on you?”

           Jumbi perked up, blinking blearily up at Evan, lowering her thin, shielded wings. She opened her mouth to reply, but the Black Wizard’s recipe fell out, stained purple. She coughed once and tried again. “Pay for doctor,” She offered.

           Patrick grinned up at Evan. “Amazing,” He whispered.

           Jumbi spent the next several days laying in the bathroom, coughing up a coin or two on occasion. She pulled the Mortar out of Evan’s backpack and laid on top of it, feeding off its enchanted energy. Evan and Patrick held their half-English, half-French discussions in hushed voices in the bedroom. On the first day, Patrick came in and lifted Jumbi and the Mortar, carrying them to the closet, so Jumbi wouldn’t have to live in the humidity of the bathroom. Time passed in a dark haze for a while. She thought of her cave at home, how she hadn’t seen sunlight in forty years, how spacious it was compared to the tiny, cramped closet. They usually left the door open for her, so she could see out the window on the far side of the room and how the sunlight streamed through across the floor. On the fifth day, Evan opened the window, so Jumbi could lift her tired head and smell the cars passing, the cold bite of snow, the hibernating, creaking trees.

           Jumbi lost count of the days.

           Eventually, Evan opened the window and pollen wafted in. Jumbi sneezed. He nodded as if in agreement to someone Jumbi couldn’t see. He even played cards with her for a few hours, waiting for Patrick to return from work for the day. He came in as the sun was setting, pulled off his gloves and hung them on the door’s lock.

           Evan eyed Jumbi, then turned to Patrick. “I’ve been homeless for three years now. I’m ready to get a house.”

           Jumbi whipped her head to Patrick, who had his thin, high eyebrows raised even higher. She wanted to laugh at the sight, but perceived the mood between the two and held it in.

           Patrick took a deep breath. He made a face Jumbi didn’t recognize. She despaired at the thought of having to learn yet another human’s facial expressions. “Evan, you know I move from place to place across the city. The train system isn’t up and running yet.”

           “But we have plenty of money now! You don’t have to save up any more. You could get a stable job.” Evan ran a hand through his hair. Jumbi noted agitation.

           Patrick put a thumb to his chin, but didn’t reply yet. He looked at one part of the floor, then moved his eyes to another part of the floor, then to Jumbi. Jumbi pulled her head back to her chest, folded her front legs one on top of the other.

           “Jumbi prefer… having lair,” She ventured carefully, turning her eyes away from Patrick. “Closet is very small.”

           Patrick let his arms drop. “I suppose I’m outvoted, then. I’ll see what I can do.”

           The next month passed. Evan worked with Patrick. The days were longer than the nights when Evan and Patrick returned one day, and Evan came over to Jumbi and squatted in front of her.

           “Jumbi, can you still shapeshift?”

           Jumbi raised her eyebrows the way she’d seen Patrick do it. “Jumbi don’t know. Jumbi will try, though.”

           She sat up, raised her front claws, and felt the familiar warmth of fresh magic pass through her chest and down her arms. She pushed in her face, but it started melting. Evan cried out and fell backward.

           “Now, that’s a horror movie if I’ve ever seen one,” Patrick commented, laughing airily.

           “Well, alright, you’ll have to fit in my backpack,” Evan frowned. Jumbi heaved a sigh and picked up her Mortar and the Pestle she’d vomited over three months ago, hobbling over to the bag. She shoved her enchanted artifacts into the bag and slid between the folds, giving Evan a thumbs-up from inside the biggest pocket.

           Evan picked her up and Patrick grabbed his own bag of clothes and necessities. “I think you’ve gotten heavier, Jumbi,” Evan commented. Jumbi shrugged and poked her head out of the bag to see. Patrick pushed her back in.

           The walk was long, and Jumbi was tempted to jump out of the bag and walk alongside, the way she and Evan had done all those months ago. She resisted the urge, thinking of the panic that might spread. Evan and Patrick chattered to each other in French.

           You’ve really gone soft, haven’t you? Vasco’s voice hissed at the back of her mind. You’re meant to spread panic and despair. You haven’t done your job in years.

           “Jumbi have new job,” She mumbled, mostly to herself.

           “Yeah, and- what was that, Jumbi?” Evan’s muffled voice cut in.

           “Nothing,” Jumbi called back. She settled into the bottom of the backpack, accepting the situation as her life now.

           After what felt like another three months, Evan and Patrick slowed down, climbed up some steps, unlocked a door.

           “You can come out now.” Evan set the backpack on the floor and Jumbi flowed out, racing around the house as fast as her wobbly legs would let her. A room here, a bathroom there, a kitchen. A cozy little cottage, but much more spacious than the motel room. She streaked past Evan and Patrick a few times in her run, only up to their hips instead of their shoulders. Moving like this, it was easy to see how much taller Patrick was than Evan. Jumbi collapsed in a heap of wings and tail and spindly legs in front of Patrick.

           “This is your room,” He smiled, opening a door into a dark room with a north-facing window.

           “Jumbi get own room?”

           “Of course. It’ll be just like ours, once we get the electricity running and pick up some furniture from my brothers.”

           Jumbi sniffed in approval. She trotted into the dark room, running her flank along the wall in a wide square. Evan came in with the Mortar and Pestle, and she settled in on the carpet and sighed, failing to regain her energy right away.

           The days passed, Patrick found a job near the house, Evan left to help most days. Jumbi didn’t sleep, but she felt barely awake. Patrick’s brothers came and moved in some tables, and the lights came on, and the water ran. Jumbi stood for longer and longer each day, but not long enough.

           “Jumbi,” Patrick started carefully, one Saturday morning. “You’re part of the family, so this gets to be your decision, too.”

           Jumbi lifted her head from the couch in the family room. “What happening, Patrick?”

           “We were thinking about… adopting a little girl.” Patrick smiled, but there was an emotion underneath that Jumbi didn’t recognize. “We’ve been meeting with her these past few months. It would be a plenary adoption. Are you okay with having another person in the house?”

           Jumbi sat up straighter, leaning on her elbows instead of chest. “Little girl? Girl like Jumbi?”

           “Yes, like you.”

           Evan leaned against the wall, his arms folded. “She’s only ever been around men.”

           Patrick made another face, but smiled at Jumbi when she tilted her head at his expression. “We’ll give you the week to think about it, okay?”

           “Jumbi okay with it.”

           “Really? Are you sure?”

           Jumbi put a claw to her beak thoughtfully, the way she’d seen Patrick do it. “Jumbi not really have choice.”

           Patrick put his thumb and forefinger between his eyebrows and glanced at Evan. “Je vais essayer de la traiter comme une personne.”

           Evan walked over and put his hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “Vous faites un bon travail.”

           “Of course you have a choice,” Patrick perked up, returned to English. “You’re living here more than we are.”

           “When ya put it that way, it hard to argue,” Jumbi replied, resting her head on the couch’s arm. Patrick smiled. “Jumbi still okay with it.”

           Evan nodded. “Well, we’re still giving you the week to get used to the idea. You’re not going to eat her or anything, are you?”

           Jumbi blinked, confused. “Jumbi don’t eat.”

           “Right.” Evan ran a hand along his stubble once, twice, three times.

           Jumbi spent the rest of the week feeling jittery. Another human in the house! What would he be like? Was he tall like Patrick, or scruffy like Evan, or commanding like the Black Wizard? Or all three?

           Seven days later, in the evening, the two men returned with a small, brown-skinned human with a narrow nose and dark hair, smaller than Jumbi had ever seen before. She slid out of her room in the back to get a better look at the human, and the human shrieked and hid her head in Patrick’s shoulder.

           “Don’t be scared, honey. Dina, this is Jumbi. She’s going to live with us, is that okay?”

           Jumbi sat and tilted her head. “You not tell already?”

           “We, um, mentioned we had a pet,” Evan confessed. “I know that doesn’t really cut it, but it’s the best we could do.”

           Jumbi as a pet? She really had fallen far since her days as the Black Wizard’s familiar. But that was so long ago now… And she had been so much bigger, as tall as Evan. With most of her mass left on Mount Elbrus in the snow, she was more on the scale of the child. Dina, Patrick had said.

           Patrick set Dina down on the ground, and Dina hid behind his leg. He squatted down and motioned for Jumbi to come closer. Evan simply sat between Jumbi and Dina, eyeing her. Don’t try anything funny, his suspicious eyes seemed to say. Jumbi knew suspicion well.

           She put her nose against Patrick’s knee, waiting for the girl to come closer. The two had a brief staring contest, but Dina broke first, her curiosity overtaking her caution. She put her hand out and touched Jumbi’s beak.

           “Be gentle,” Patrick said.

           Jumbi lowered her head and let Dina tug on her fluffy ears. That seemed to seal the deal for the small human. Dina squealed, and Jumbi flinched back.

           “Doux,” Patrick repeated, putting his hand on Dina’s head. Jumbi, tired after her encounter, slunk back to her room and laid down on the floor for the evening.

           The months turned into years. Dina started leaving during the day along with Evan and Patrick. Then, she started telling Jumbi about her “school.” As she learned to read, she taught Jumbi, and Jumbi spent long hours sitting behind Dina, looking over her shoulder as Dina read to her. Evan eased up on Jumbi as Dina continued to not be eaten, and took fewer days off from work.

           When computers were released to the public, Evan got one and started spending long hours on it in the evenings. He let Jumbi look at the word processor, and tap some of the keys with her short, blunted claws. Patrick often stood behind Evan, looking on with a cup of coffee in one hand and the other in his pocket. Dina climbed on Jumbi’s shoulders to get a better look at the big box of a screen, since Evan hadn’t allowed her to use the computer tower as a stepping stool.

           “What you writing about?” Jumbi asked one night, long after Dina had gone to bed. Patrick sipped his coffee.

           Evan sighed and put his hands on the desk, leaning away from the monitor. “You, actually.”

           Jumbi tilted her head. “Why?”

           “Because you’re an evil little muppet of a dragon and the world should know about you and what you tried to do.”

           Patrick swallowed his coffee hard. “It’s not like that!” He laughed when Jumbi hung her head. “It’s more like… you two had a big adventure! It’s something worth writing about.”

           Jumbi perked her ears. “Adventure not done yet.”

           Evan stared down at Jumbi. “Yes it is.”

           “Why?”

           Evan tugged at his hair, growing in again. Jumbi noted he would probably cut it again soon. “Because you’re totally helpless without me. You’re too weak to go anywhere now. And even if you could travel, I won’t help you anymore.”

           Jumbi scowled and stepped out of the room, her tail flicking irritably. She resolved to bother him about it again in the morning, when she wasn’t so tired. At least she had grown in size to keep up with Dina, more or less. She’d be back to normal in no time, he’d see.

           Patrick raised his brows. “If you are so resentful, why did you let Jumbi stay in the first place?”

           Evan ran his hands down his face, tugging on his thin cheeks. “Because she needs me. I can’t just abandon her.”

           “You love her,” Patrick observed, taking another sip. Evan nodded his head to one side, then the other.

           “But I hate her sometimes. Often. Ever since I found out how attached she still is to her wizard…”

           Patrick swirled his coffee and peered into his mug. “She will grow out of it, I think.”

           “You really think so?”

           “Sometimes, when someone is so bad to you, you stay afraid of them for a long time, even after they’re gone.”

           Evan took a deep, slow breath through his crooked nose, frowning. “Especially someone like her.”

           Patrick smiled gently. “Have some faith in her. She’ll pull through.”

           “Maybe someday.”

           The seasons changed again. Dina came home every weekday and read to Jumbi, and let Jumbi watch her do her homework, though it was in French rather than English. Evan and Patrick brought home some books in English one day, and Dina started reading from those too. Jumbi never really picked up French.

           On weekends, the humans in the family would gather around their dining table and get their meals all from a few big pots. Jumbi avoided the table, instead preferring the company of the Mortar and Pestle in the evenings. “Á table!” Evan would call, and Patrick and Dina would quickly take their seats. Meals were quiet at first, but eventually Patrick would speak up.

           “So, how was your week, Dina?” He would ask gently, glancing at her while keeping his head turned toward his plate.

           Dina would be pushing in as much food as her mouth would allow. “Amende,” She’d say, through a mouthful of bread. Patrick would nod in return, and ask Evan how shopping for the food went. He’d often remark that the farmers were doing better than they used to, at least, back in Spain. The family might have to skip a serving of fruit, or meat. They’d both take turns asking how Dina’s schooling was going, what she learned that week, if she was making any friends. Amende, beaucoup, pas vraiment.

           One day, Dina asked a question instead. “Where does Jumbi come from?” Evan and Patrick looked at each other, Patrick nodded his head. She’s old enough.

           Evan frowned. Eight was hardly old enough. “Well, she was summoned by a wizard,” He started.

           “Wizards are real?” Such large, dark eyes. Darker than Evan’s.

           “They used to be,” He replied, between bites of mashed potato. “But the wizard wasn’t very nice to her, so I take care of her instead.” There. That was a fine simplification of the situation, wasn’t it?

           Patrick didn’t correct him, so Evan decided to take that as approval. Dina, however, was not satisfied.

           “Why wasn’t he nice to her? She’s nice.”

           “Some people are just bad,” He answered darkly.

           “I wouldn’t say that.” Patrick chimed in finally. “Sometimes people do bad things, but people, by themselves, aren’t bad.”

           Dina hummed and didn’t ask any more questions, but Evan knew he’d have to tell her more eventually.

           Things went on like that for a long time, the family leading a quiet life, hiding the dark secret in their back room. Jumbi felt like she was going to go crazy, once she was able to be up and about all day. She mostly passed the time watching the family’s television, while Dina was at school and Evan and Patrick were working. The fuzzy black-and-white images weren’t always interesting, but she did figure out how to enchant the antennae to pick up a better signal and felt quite proud of herself. She polished the eating utensils, the plastic containers that the family kept their leftovers in. Cleaned out the fridge and wiped it down, played with the vacuum cleaner until she got her beak stuck in the tube. All these new objects were interesting, at first, but Jumbi began to miss her swords and shields. Keeping the enchanted armory, her hoard, clean kept her busy for years after the cave-in. She missed studying the grooves and dents in the rifles, her arm narrowing and then lengthening to reach down the barrels.

           One weekend, Jumbi sprawled out across Dina’s back as she laid on the floor and watched Saturday morning cartoons.

           “Jumbi gonna go crazy!” She complained, going limp over Dina’s shoulders and pinning the girl down.

           Dina rolled over and Jumbi slipped off, keeping her eyes on the television. “Why?”

           “Haven’t been outside in a million years,” She pouted.

           Dina laughed quietly. “You’ve only lived here for ten years. If you were human, we could go outside for a while though.”

           Jumbi put a claw to her beak and rolled over onto her elbows, stretching her back legs out the way Dina had them. “Jumbi not try in a long time.”

           “Wait, what?”

           Jumbi sat up and tried again to shape-shift. This time, she succeeded, though she was somewhat shorter and thinner than she’d have liked.

           Dina watched her change, fascinated. She looked Jumbi up and down, compared her brown skin to Jumbi’s dark skin, ran her hands through Jumbi’s long curls. Finally, she sat up on her shins and knees and declared, “We’ve got to get you some clothes.”

           After a brief trial of putting on and taking off clothes as gently as she could, Dina was satisfied with Jumbi’s outfit.

           “Dad!” She called, running through the family room to the men’s side of the house. “I’m going out with Jumbi for a while!”

           Evan, still in bed, groaned and rolled over. “Fine, stay safe,” He grumbled sleepily. Patrick put his arm over his eyes. Dina grinned, rifled through Patrick’s wallet to find some francs, and ran back to Jumbi, waiting in the family room.

           “And we’re off!” Dina pulled open the door and the Jumbi bolted down the walkway leading to their house. “Wait!” Jumbi left her to lock the door and fell to the dry lawn, rubbing her arms and face against the crackly blades.

           Dina pulled Jumbi to her feet and helped her brush off. “People are going to think you’re crazy,” She laughed, her face turning red. Jumbi had never seen Dina turn that color before, though Evan did sometimes when speaking in French she didn’t understand. The smells of the outdoors flooded her nostrils and throat, and she stuck her nose to the air to pick up as much as she could. Cars, grass, the weeds that had taken over the cracks in the road and put out their flowers. Some kind of bread, from down the road. And… Was that coffee or tea? Jumbi forgot the difference.

           “This way.” Dina took Jumbi’s hand and half-led, half-dragged her down the road westward, toward the mall.

           On the way, they were stopped by a haggard man with a lot of papers. Jumbi jumped back and hissed at the man, but he was unfazed.

           “Avez-vous entendu la bonne parole?” He asked, seemingly staring right through Dina. Dina stepped back, closer to Jumbi.

           “Nous allons à l'église parfois…” She lied. Jumbi stared back and forth between the man and Dina, frustrated. What was he saying to her? Would she stop liking Jumbi? The man reeked of something strange, something she had only smelled once in her life before.

           Antimagic.

           Jumbi put her hand on Dina’s shoulder. “Dina and Jumbi go,” She pleaded.

           “Jumbi? Qui est pas un nom humain,” The man snarled. Jumbi snarled back. That seemed to do it for him. He threw the papers at Jumbi. Jumbi leapt back and bolted for the mall. Dina couldn’t keep up. Jumbi ran around a corner and cast a mirror spell to check around the corner for the man. He didn’t seem to be following, though she didn’t see Dina, either.

           You make a terrible human, Evan’s words echoed in her head. She couldn’t even babysit this one kid! Evan was going to hit her if she lost Dina. She glared at a rat in the alley. She stomped her foot and the rat took off, literally melting into the shadows. She watched pigeons fly overhead, trailing rings of crumbs and plant bits. The city was magic, but Jumbi was not part of the city. She took a deep breath to steady herself, the way Evan used to do when he was running out of patience. She stepped around the corner to look for Dina, but Dina found her.

           “There you are!” She cried, hugging Jumbi tight to her chest. Jumbi patted Dina on her head.

           “Jumbi thought Jumbi lose Dina,” She confessed.

           “I lost you. That man was scary. What did he try to do to you?”

           “He carry People of the Book-paper. It unsummon Jumbi if Jumbi touch too much.” Jumbi rested her head on Dina’s shoulder.

           “People of the Book?” Dina lifted Jumbi’s head to get a better look at her.

           Jumbi nodded. “Christian, Jew. That kind of thing.”

           Dina started leading Jumbi back to the house once she was sure the man was gone. “What about other religions?”

           She shook her head. “Most other religions accept magic.”

           “Wow. Why?”

           Jumbi drew the sides of her mouth down. “Familiars not always something to be afraid of. Most is helpful.”

           Dina tilted her head curiously, making a face Jumbi thought at first was as if she’d eaten something sour, but didn’t say anything else. They stuck to the back alleys getting home and didn’t see the man again. He had perhaps found someone else to harass about magic.

           Jumbi slowly learned to read as Dina read to her most days. Jumbi grew to Evan’s chest. Dina went to “secondary education.” Jumbi didn’t understand why there had to be different kinds of educations. Why did humans need an education if they weren’t going to be wizards?

           One day, Evan was very sick, so Jumbi had to take his place at Patrick’s work, since Dina had told them she could shapeshift again. She followed Patrick along the road, down to the train station, and squeezed up next to him on the train to avoid the other commuters. Patrick smiled sympathetically and put his hand on Jumbi’s head, and she felt a little better. He told her not to worry, and she pouted, but didn’t try to fly away in the underground tunnel.

           Patrick pulled Jumbi off one of the supporting bars of the train and led her upstairs to the outdoors once again. He led her quietly to a series of broken power lines.

           “Jumbi,” Patrick started. “I need you to spot me while I climb up the telephone pole there and fix these wires.”

           Jumbi scoffed. “Why not use magic?”

           Patrick raised a brow. “You think you can fix it? First, let me show you which wire belongs where, okay?”

           Jumbi called forth a hazy image of the wire next to the pole. Patrick hummed and poked parts into shape with his pointer fingers, slowly at first, and then more quickly as he got used to the interface.

           “Okay, the wires should go like this when they’re connected.” Patrick spun the image so Jumbi could see the power lines in three dimensions. “I’m worried about you climbing up there, though, without turning into dragon.”

           Jumbi shrugged. “Not weak to fire,” She explained.

           “This isn’t fire. This is electricity. It can cause fires, but it is not fire by itself.”

           Jumbi tilted her head thoughtfully. “Should be fine.” She stepped forward toward the wire and lifted her arms. The wire lifted with her and hung in place near the top of the telephone pole.

           Patrick whistled. “Well, that’s helpful.”

           “Can Patrick work like that?”

           “Yes, that’s very helpful, thank you.” Patrick put on his gloves from his bag, slipped them over the sleeves of his uniform. Jumbi looked down at her own clothes, borrowed from Dina. They were tight around the chest and hips. Patrick’s uniform seemed almost too short in the legs, but it fit him better than Jumbi’s clothes fit her.

           Patrick climbed up the telephone pole and motioned to Jumbi to bring a wire closer. She waved her hand and slowly, slowly a wire pulled closer to Patrick’s hand. He pulled something Jumbi couldn’t see out of his toolbox and fastened the wire to the pole.

           They went on like that, back and forth, for an hour or two. Jumbi felt good, having something important to do again. Something to make herself useful. Building, instead of destroying. People walked by, not looking up, not noticing the floating wires, stepping around Jumbi on the sidewalk.

           Patrick climbed down once all the wires were connected. “Well, that took a lot less time than I thought it would.” He whistled, looking up at his and Jumbi’s handiwork.

           “What we do now?”

           “Well…” Patrick rubbed his chin with the glove. “We move on to the next area, I guess.”

           “We are not finished?”

           Patrick laughed. “Our work as electricians is never done. The city is always falling apart unless we keep repairing it.”

           “Oh…”

           They moved on to the next break in the line, and then the next. Jumbi grew more confident as she practiced leading the wires to Patrick’s hand. The two finished as the sun was hitting the tops of the buildings, casting warm bars across the street. They caught the train home, much more crowded now, and Jumbi squeezed her eyes shut to try and ignore the people around her.

           By the time they returned home, Evan seemed to feel better.

           “At least, I’ve accepted my pain,” He complained, laying back on the couch and leaning his head against the back. Jumbi jumped up toward Evan, snapped back to her dragon shape in midair, and landed on his lap. Evan shouted incoherently, but didn’t push Jumbi off.

           Patrick tutted sympathetically. “Don’t worry, Evan. It will pass. If it comes back, we’ll take you to the hospital.”

           Months later, over the summer, in the heat of the day it did come back. Evan laid in bed, his breathing shallow, and Jumbi put her chin on his chest.

           “Evan be okay?” She rolled her eyes toward Evan’s chin, looking up his nose.

           Evan took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Pain isn’t normal.”

           Jumbi frowned. “Yes it is.”

           Evan coughed a laugh and put his hand on Jumbi’s head. “You would think that. But no, it’s not normal.” He took a deeper breath. “Not like this, anyway.”

           “When Patrick get home?”

           “In a few hours,” Evan replied. “He has to check in with the office first.”

           “Why he leave Jumbi behind this time?” Jumbi leaned into Evan’s hand.

           Evan glanced at Jumbi. “To keep an eye on me, I guess.”

           Dina got home from school before Patrick got home from work. She sat at the foot of Evan’s bed while Jumbi struggled to put both her eyes directly on Evan. She was having trouble, since her eyes were on either side of her head. Evan was cringing as he tried not to laugh.

           “Dad, are you feeling okay? How are we going to get you to the hospital?” Dina dropped her book bag on the ground next to the bed.

           “I assume we’re calling fifteen when Patrick gets home, to make sure we’re all together,” Evan answered, pushing Jumbi’s head away from his face.

           “Jumbi know how to pass time,” Jumbi spoke up.

           “Oh yeah?” Dina sat up straighter, raising her brows at this unusual development.

           Jumbi summoned a library of images. “Jumbi teach Dina and Evan about familiar,” She offered.

           “Tell Dina about gargoyles.”

           “Gargoyle like dragon, lots of armor. But gargoyle have good protection from water. Lots of stone covering fragile skin. Ya hit wings and knees to cut mobility.”

           “You used to fight gargoyles?” Dina put her hands on her lap.

           “Oh, yeah. Even Evan fight one! But he lose. Jumbi fight Augur of Prince Bonaparte one time. Augur has good sword, Jumbi take it when Jumbi defeat Augur.”

           “You didn’t just defeat him,” Evan cut in, eyeing Jumbi.

           “Huh?”

           “You killed him, Jumbi. And I almost died.”

           Jumbi waved her claw nonchalantly. “Defeat, kill, whatever.”

           Dina blinked. “You used to kill other familiars?”

           “Oh yeah, lots! Black Wizard most powerful Wizard in Europe. We take all kind of artifact from defeated wizard.”

           Almost ready to take notes, Dina stopped and thought carefully about this new information. Jumbi could almost, but not quite, see the wheels turning in her head. What was she thinking about?

           “Jumbi, what were we doing on Mount Elbrus?” Evan shifted his weight. Jumbi recognized the leading question and frowned, but continued.

           “Jumbi revive Black Wizard with Mortar and Pestle and plants.”

           “What? Jumbi, how could you? He’s a mass murderer.” Dina put a hand to her mouth, distraught. Jumbi could recognize distraught.

           Evan closed his eyes. “You’re old enough to know, now, Dina.”

           Dina frowned at the floor. “You’re really going to do this, Jumbi?”

           “When Jumbi can travel again, yes.”

           Evan made a face Jumbi didn’t recognize. Tight eyebrows, but with a weak smile. “She needs someone with her, to make sure she doesn’t finish.” Jumbi scowled at Evan good-naturedly.

           “You want me to go with Jumbi?”

           “When the time is right, if you want to.”

           Dina paused. “… And I’m supposed to stop her?”

           “No! Dina help Jumbi.”

long description:

Evan had a crooked smile to match his crooked teeth and crooked nose. His whole body seemed somehow lopsided for it, patchy shirt and patchy jeans hiding out ripped apart he’d let his life get. He had big hands and feet, calloused from long days fishing off the dying coast. He could feel it, too: in his dying hairline, his old, tired eyes. He hit it all under his uneven patches.

a ghost story:

The ghost is frightened. It is alone in this big house, and no one comes through the door. There is a storm. It yowls and scratches at the windows to be let in, but the ghost cannot let the storm in or keep it out. That is outside its jurisdiction.

The house used to be a nice place to be dead. It had sweeping staircases, long hallways to moan down. But no one hears the ghost’s moans now. No one sees the mobile twirling idly over the empty crib in the nursery except the faux-cheer peeling wallpaper. No one smells the smoking roof tiles struck by lightning. No one knows to put the fire out, there’s a dead person still in the house.

The ghost is frightened of the flame clawing their way across the floorboards, leaving trails of black claw marks in their wake. No one feels the spark-blasts or the screeching deep in their bones of the dying house and the ghost has nowhere to go but down.

don’t name the word: