(August 1st, 1986)

"Alys, there's a letter here for you."

I didn't look up from carefully etching a rune into the surface of my ironwood cane. The runes had to be small to maximize usable space, and the wood was too hard for normal carving tools, so I was working with a tiny diamond-tipped chisel that Hollis had loaned me, and had a jeweler's loupe in one eye. I had also discovered the cane's hidden secret, which Jonathan, in his way, hadn't bothered mentioning...he knew I'd be looking for one anyway. With the press of a cleverly concealed button on the cat-shaped grip, the cane released a slender steel smallsword, perfect in size and balance for a petite young woman with less than optimal mobility. So I had to be careful about not interfering with that as I worked.

"Thanks, Hollis," I said, carefully tapping the chisel with a small hammer. "Athena, would you…"

"Of course," Athena replied. I heard her rise and go to the door. "I'll…" She trailed off. "Alys, I think you should look at this." She sounded serious, and I felt a frisson of disquiet from her.

Well, then. I needed a break anyway. I finished the rune I was working on and sat up, stretching and arching my sore back. I let the loupe drop from my eye and caught it - still a bit stiffly, damn it - in my right hand, then set my tools down on the table beside my cane and turned to look at them.

Hollis was standing in the doorway, his mouth set in a thin line, brows drawn down in a concerned frown. But his attention wasn't on me. Rather, it was on the letter that Athena was holding in her hands and staring at, her disquiet growing. "What is it?" I asked.

Athena came to me and handed me the letter. It had my name and my address at Hollis's home in London on it, since that was where I was living. The return address was for a post office box here in London, and the name with it read simply 'Brenna.'

"Oh." I stared at it, remembering the last time I'd gotten a letter from her barely two months earlier. "Well, this isn't ominous or anything. Does anyone know…"

"Ben called a half-hour ago," Athena said, "To say he'd be a few minutes late picking us up for dinner."

"I was scrying with Jonathan about an hour ago," Hollis added. "That project we're working on together. We took a break when your mother dragged him away for lunch."

I relaxed. "Thank you." I wasn't sure what 'that project' actually was, mind you. They'd been unusually closed-lipped about it. Still, it was a Wizard's prerogative to be mysterious.

I carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of paper within.

Dear Alys, it read.

I'm sure you don't particularly want to hear from me right now. In fact, I imagine the arrival of this letter sent you scrambling to make sure you knew where all of your loved ones are. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure why I decided to send this. After what has passed between us, and the differences in our upbringing, I sincerely doubt that you and I could ever be anything even vaguely resembling friends.

But you are my sister. Had I known, I might have acted differently. Or perhaps not. I am aware now as I never have been before of how (here she had scratched out several words, but I was able to make out 'disturbed,' 'messed up,' and 'psychotic') wrong something is with me. Maybe this is how I am meant to be...I have never believed in free will, and it would seem that you and I are fated to be at odds.

But you're the only family I have now, aside from my familiars. And I was upset to discover, when I asked them to call me by name as yours do you, that they were afraid of me on some level. Too afraid to be that familiar with me, if you'll pardon the pun.

I do not understand.

It is difficult to ask, and I will not blame you if you never reply to this letter, for I have hurt you gravely and stolen your chance to ever know our father. But I would be glad if you would consent to communicate with me, and perhaps help me understand what is wrong with me. At the very least, I should like to stay in touch with you, if only to reassure you that I will not move against your family again. So long as the decision is my own.

If you decide to reply, send your letter to the post office box on the envelope. It will find its way to me.

With regrets and confusion,

Your sister,

Brenna

I had to read it twice before my brain was able to process the letter's contents. Then I handed it to Athena as Artemis padded over and rested her chin on my good leg.

Hollis moved up behind Athena and - after looking to me for permission and receiving my nod - bent to read the letter over her shoulder. They were both silent for several minutes, though I felt a stab of sadness from Athena before she looked up and met my eyes.

> she said quietly. >

I shrugged a little. > I replied. Admitting that had been, according to Dr. MacMoran, a huge step forward in my mental healing process. >

> Artemis agreed. >

"Alys," Hollis said slowly, straightening and looking at me, "Will you reply?"

"Do you think I should?" I asked. I honestly wanted his opinion.

He considered the question seriously, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. After a minute, he nodded. "I think you should. She knows a great deal about you...at the very least, this is an opportunity for you to learn things about her."

I hadn't thought about it that way. "Let me think about it," I said.

-----

Later that same night, long after Ben brought us home, I sat in the window seat of my room, unable to sleep. I had my right leg stretched out in front of me and occasionally bent to massage my knee. I suspected it was going to rain tomorrow: I had already noticed that my knee ached worse than usual right before rain arrived.

Athena was stretched out in bed, already half-asleep...but her eyes still opened every few minutes to check on me before drifting shut again. Artemis was dozing in the completely abandoned way every cat will do, sprawled on the tiles in front of the unlit fireplace.

I turned and stared out at the night, looking up at the sky. London was a beacon of light and civilization, but because of that it was nearly impossible to see the stars. I had grown up in a community of Druids, in a part of Éire where electricity was still a rare thing. So I had grown used to seeing the stars in all their glory.

I wondered if I would have bothered to look up at the night sky if I'd grown up in a city like London, if I had never known the glorious magic of a crystal clear night with a cool breeze, a sky full of stars, and the occasional meteorite.

Who would I be if I hadn't grown up with a mother who cherished me? If I hadn't had a mentor who'd nurtured not only my skills and talents, but my morals and ethics as well?

I rose from the window seat and limped the few steps to my desk, sitting down and stretching my right leg out to one side. I pulled out a piece of paper, picked up a pen, and considered the blank page for a long minute. Then I put the pen back down and looked at Brenna's letter again.

Ben had agreed with Hollis. He'd told me how the police often encouraged the victim of an assault to keep their assailant talking if they were in the mood to do so. Not only could it provide insights into the person, sometimes it engendered enough familiarity - they found enough common ground - to get the criminal to make a mistake or even to let the person go.

I tried to read between the lines of her letter and thought I saw a shape to her words. She was lonely and was just beginning to realize it. I could identify with that. I'd never had any real friends my own age, and until I'd met Athena, Artemis, Hollis, and Elsie (all in one day!), I'd never had anyone I considered a close friend other than my mother and Jonathan. Acquaintances, certainly, but no one I'd ever really opened up to.

A new thought popped into my head then. The sympathetic link the Sidhe spell had created between us had slap-dash copied some of Brenna’s memories into my head, and left my emotional state - and maybe my sanity - a little bit wobbly for a while.

What if it had done the same thing to Brenna, too?

That gave me pause. What would that do to her, without anyone to undo it or even any awareness of what had happened. Would a copied piece of me stabilize her sanity a bit? Maybe even result in the letter she’d written to me, reaching out to the only person who might understand and be willing to help?

Had our father intended this to happen?

Yikes. I’d better run that one by Jonathan and Dr. MacMoran at the earliest opportunity.

Anyway, I could identify with feeling lonely, and perhaps that was a place to start building common ground. Could I...should I...set aside my anger, my fear, and even my pity, to reach out to someone who was so dark and dangerous...simply because she was family? Because she was lonely?

Dear Brenna…