There is no better place than home. But what defines a home? Is it the land where one stands? The building on it? Or is it simply the place one goes back to when he is weary of the world, where loved ones are? If the latest one is the case, make sure to never get on the bad side of the mistress of the house, or resting might be a thing of the past.

Dale Johnson, after forgetting a wedding anniversary

It was late evening when we finally reached home. My father had been looking at the city with a mix of sadness and wonder, lost in his own little world. His voice was very quiet, as if he was only talking to himself.

“It was only about forty years since I last came here, how did things change so much? There are so many people here now, and the garrigue shrank so much, it’s almost inexistent compared to what it once was.”

“There are also good things here, Montpellier is a lively place with lots of interesting stuff to see and do.”

A hint of mischief came back to his eyes.

“Are you volunteering to be my sightseeing tour guide?

“There’s always the archaeological museum of Lattes, you should feel right at home.”

“Very funny, girl…”

As we stepped out of the tramway, the sky became dark enough for the streetlamps to switch on. Since it was still early autumn, the air was warm enough for the bats to start their mosquito hunts. I always loved to see the little buggers fluttering near the lights.

The only snag was the faint stink pervading the area around our home. Did the neighbor forget to put the garbage out on the right day again?

I opened the door, the wind chimes ringing lightly to announce our arrival. Mom had put them there as a joke when I was fifteen, saying they were too big to put around my neck, but that this way at least she would know when I was home.

The imp bounded down the stairs when she heard us, eager to look at the mysterious absentee father. It never failed to amaze me how such a small teenager could make so much noise whenever she moved. She would put elephants to shame sometimes.

“Sis! Welcome back! Is that him? Are you sure you got the right guy? ‘Cause he looks more like a brother or a cousin? Did you get bamboozled? And how was Mexico? And…”

“Calm down, all in due time. Let us unpack our luggage, then I’ll tell you all. Where’s mom?”

“She had to go help at the pub, she said she should be back about half an hour after you if your plane wasn’t late.”

I messed up her hair, to her despairing cries.

“By the way this is my sister Katarina, aka Kate or imp. Kate, this is Uriel, I guess your ex stepdad? Be careful with your cellphone around him or he’ll use up the battery on Candy Crush”

“It was only this once, how long are you planning to rehash it?

“I couldn’t check the GPS and we ran in circle for an hour”

“If you like video games mister we can play tomorrow. Abby’s not fun to play with, I beat her too easily.”

“I’d love it, but just call me Uriel. Mister makes me feel like an old geezer”

“Aren’t you one?”

“I’m a child at heart, can’t you see?”

“Yes, yes o childish one, come, I’ll show you your bedroom and the bathroom. You can take a shower if you want while we wait for mom, I’ll go wash downstairs myself.”

I was storing the last of the luggage when the wind chimes announced mom’s return. When I came downstairs, mom was taking off her shoes, and Uriel and Kate were talking animatedly at the kitchen counter.

The atmosphere was awkward to say the least when the two ex-lovers faced each other. The first to break the silence was my father. His face was much more solemn than usual, for once making him look older than his apparent age.

“Thank you for sending our daughter to me. Had you not done so, I would never have hoped again.”

“I didn’t send her for you. I hope you will be a better father than you were a lover. You are welcome in my home as long as you remember you are here as Abigail’s dad and not as my ex.”

Oh, yes, mom hardly ever gets mad, she gets even instead, and there was one poor soul who might reconsider the wisdom of having stepped on her toes in the past. She can hold a grudge for a long time. Maybe I should suggest him to look ostentatiously miserable to shorten his punition?

Nah, I’ll have much more fun watching him squirm a bit.

“I prepared some curry this morning, we just need to reheat it. Abby, go get a bottle of Pinot gris, Kate, set the table please, Uriel, sit down here, we’ll talk while eating.”

I had already sent text messages and emails to mom as I went along during the trip, but she squeezed every little detail out of us during the meal.

“So Uriel, how long will it take for Abby to fully control her powers?”

“It depends of her own talent and imagination. For some it takes years, for others decades, even centuries. Being my daughter, her raw power is strong enough to cause disaster if she isn’t trained now that she awakened, and she needs to be able to defend herself in case she is discovered.”

“Years? As in years of you living with us?”

“As much as it might bother you, it’s unavoidable. I’ll pitch in for the house expenses for as long as I’m here of course, and help as much as I can. Besides, you might need me for Kate in a couple years if I go by the tension around her.”

“Dale was a good man, but he didn’t have any outstanding ability. I’m pretty sure he was a regular human, unlike you, so I don’t see how Kate might inherit something like that.”

“Sometimes abilities skip a generation, for one reason or another. When it does though, usually the resulting power is nothing to be trifled with. Kate shows all the signs of having power strong enough to come to light early”

An excited imp chimed in:

“Cool! Will I be able to fly and shoot fireballs?”

“We won’t know until you awaken sweetie. We’ll see at that time.”

"Aww, I really want to be an amazing wizard like in the videogames."

At that time Uriel made a weird face, engulfing his glass of water. Mom said in a sweet voice:

“Oh my, it seems you got all the peppers of the dish. I’m so sorry, I don’t know how it happened!”

See? Getting even.

I helped mom wash the dishes and tidy up the kitchen in a comfortable silence. She hugged me when we were done, maybe a bit tighter than usual.

“Good night Abby, go get some sleep, you look exhausted.”

“Good night all, see you tomorrow”

I heard the imp going upstairs, but not Uriel, they must still have been talking downstairs. I could hear voices drifting up at times, though to faintly to understand anything.

That night, I dreamed of pixies flying around an old oak, their small bodies radiating multicolored lights.

They looked like androgynous tiny humans with gossamer wings, their pretty faces topped by hair the same color as the halos of light surrounding them.

Pretty they might be, but each of them carried weapons like swords or spears, sometimes no bigger than a finger and in some cases almost as big as the one wielding it.

All hail the mighty toothpick of dooooom!

They came to me in drove, smiling and chattering in an incomprehensible language, playing in my hair, poking my cheeks, pushing and pulling me until I sat under the tree.

There I closed my eyes accompanied by the sound of piping voice and wind-like music.

I walked up with a start the following morning, at the sound of something scampering across the floor.

Oh, great, did we have some mice again?

Mice might be cute, but they’re awfully destructive in a house, so if we got some I’d need to play rat catcher again. Last time we had an invasion, we had to throw away most of the stuff in the pantry, and change some of the electric cables they had gnawed on.

Scrunching sounds were coming out of my desk’s drawer. I sneakily approached with one of the net the imp uses to chase after crabs at sea, that mysteriously found its way in my bedroom again.

I’d have to give a good talk to the imp about boundaries again. I really don’t get why her stuff always end in my place instead of hers.

I opened the drawer, ready to snag the mouse as soon as it moved out of it in the net.

…Since when do mice come in purple fur?