Family can be either the greatest support to rely on, or the greatest hardship to overcome. Sadly, as a wise one once said, one can choose his friends, but not his family.

Margaret Ortiz

The little twerp used my shock to the utmost advantage, scampering around me and under the door. When I entered the hallway I could only see its tail disappearing in the gap under the imp’s door.

I could already hear the “Can we keep it?” pleas in my mind. It was small, cute, fluffy, and purple. A deadly combination in this house if there ever was one. Even worse than kittens, or puppy dog eyes.

I opened the door to a delighted squeal:

"Sis! Sis! Look at this cutie! Can we keep it? Pleeeeease? I promise I’ll take care of it…”

A snort came from the door, where Uriel was leaning against the frame.

“Pixies were always quick on the uptake; one has to grant them that. Only a few days since Abby awakened and they’re already out of their own dreamworld?”

“This is a pixie? It didn’t look like that at all last night.”

I looked at the critter squeezed in the imp’s hands. It really was cute overkill with its shining black eyes and smooth purple fur. No wings or war toothpick though.

“Ah, you had a stroll in another pocket dimension last night I suppose? This is the daytime form of a pixie. They tend to congregate around places of power since they need raw energy to live. You or I are like an all-free never ending buffet for them.”

“What am I supposed to do with it now? We can hardly raise it as a pet.”

“Since you already have a link to their pocket dimension, why don’t you fix them a door in the garden? It would be good training for your dream-walker abilities, and your control overall. They can make themselves useful that way, a place to live for the price of helping secure the area, and information gathering. What do you say mouse?”

The rodent looked at us alternatively before squeaking a couple times in agreement. Looks like we’d be getting ourselves a furry alarm system. Kate squeezed it a bit more in joy, rubbing her cheek on the glossy fur. If she continued like that, she’d smother it to death before it had time to settle down.

“How about we go get breakfast, then we’ll get on the door thingy?”

“Lead the way, mighty pixie mistress, I’m famished!”

I explained the pixie stuff to mom as we fixed breakfast. It seems she and dad had a good talk last time. They were certainly not all chummy with each other, but mom had thawed considerably. Still, Uriel’s breakfast came in strangely small portions compared to ours.

We chatted about the pixie issue over breakfast, while our furry friend was munching on cereals mum put in a coffee cup next to a delighted imp.

“You said they lived in a pocket dimension? What is that exactly?”

“Are you familiar with the theory of alternate universes? Human scientists and novelists were starting to meddle with this when I was last around.”

“I’ve heard about it, but never was overly curious on the subject.”

“Hmmm, how to explain it...?

Think of this dimension as a square box, in the middle of mountain of square boxes, sunk in a pool with air bubbles swirling around. The boxes on top of ours are the higher realities, from where the so-called angelic beings come from. Under, you have demonic realms. And around, you have the same type of dimensions as ours, albeit with different settings. About anything you can imagine is bound to exist somewhere.

Now the veils between the dimensions are not a fixed thing like a wall, they’re more akin to a water curtain with bubbles of reality swimming in them. Some of those bubbles tend to latch on a realm, instead of continuing on their path through the void. Those would be the pocket dimensions.

They usually come with their own set of rules, like a small world. When the magic declined here, many creatures died. Of the survivors, some had the right skillset to open portals to either pocket dimensions or other realms, and chose to leave through the doors. This tribe of pixies obviously had someone like that at one point.”

“So when I dream I pop in whichever pocket is close enough?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, but for the sake of expediency, more or less yes.”

“Can sis bring other people with her? I wanna see a pixie tribe too!”

“You’ll see plenty of pixies soon, those always come in swarms.”

Breakfast done and kitchen set to right, we all trundled in the garden, the imp excited about pixies, and mom probably wanting to keep an eye on us.

The walls enclosing our backyard were thankfully high enough to ensure our privacy. I might have troubles explaining multicolored mice to the neighbors otherwise.

“I’ll mind-link with you since it’ll be the first time you try to use your abilities consciously. Just relax, and picture a hand extending to me, I’ll do the rest.”

His own mental hand grabbed mine, his presence settling much more smoothly along mine than the first time we met.

“Try to recall the times when you started dreaming, I’ll reinforce the memories.”

I delved in my memories, chasing the elusive images. It was a bit like when one can’t remember a word, the more you try to find it, the more it escapes your grasp.

I spent a long time sitting under the lilac tree until I found it.

I was blacking out in the alley again, but this time I was not alone. A velvety darkness surrounded us, like a warm coat. Wisps of smoke as high as a grown man revolved around us, some fast, some almost immobile. Those were the only thing visible in the darkness, as they glowed in their own color theme.

Uriel pointed to a forest green one, very close to our position.

“Here, those are your pocket dimensions, and this one should be the pixies.”

“What should I do now?”

“This is a place of your own mind, it obeys your rules. So whatever you want to do is law.”

This didn’t answer anything at all. Or maybe it did?

I tried to recall reality without losing track of the dream vision. By the time I managed to do it, I was drenched in sweat, but proud of myself.

My rules hm? I cradled the green wisp in my hands, carrying it where my body was reclining against the trunk.

I firmly set it in the first fork of the tree, commanding it like one would a disobedient pup:

“You be good and stay here!”

My dad patted my hair with a warm laugh as I opened my eyes.

“Be good and stay here? What did you think it was, a dog?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“It did, indeed, though your sense of style is atrocious. You need to act with flair in all circumstances!”

“Says the candy crush addict.”

Mom and Kate were nowhere to be seen anymore, but mom had left a note in the kitchen. They both left while we were busy, Kate to school and mom to do the books at the pub. The purple mouse had disappeared too, and I had an inkling it took the opportunity to escape the imp’s clutches.

I was surprised when I looked at the clock, we had spent nearly three hours taking care of the pixie gate. It hadn’t seem that long in the dream state.

“You should take some time to rest, what you did today is straining for the spirit. I’ll go buy all the necessities to live here. Tomorrow we’ll assess your phoenix skills and the rest of your abilities.”

There was one disturbing thought niggling at the back of my mind.

“Why did the magic decline? And since it’s supposed to be so scarce now, why do I stumble upon magical stuff each time I turn around? Even my own sister now!”

He let out a tired sigh.

“We declined, hunted to extinction, so the magic declined. Other creatures use, or in a way eat, the magic. All living beings small and big need a modicum of magic for their souls to thrive.

Phoenixes are different. We are tied strongly to life itself, and as such we are magic. Wizards had a term for beings like us, they called us sources.

Where other creatures eat magic, we generate it. As such you don’t so much stumble upon magic as create it yourself, or attract it to you. Everything around you will be affected by it although usually in good ways since our alignment is life.”

“Is this why you stayed? As powerful as you are you could have gone easily in another world.”

“Yes, that’s the main reason. Until you came I was the last source of this world, and I was barely enough to sustain it. Had I gone or decided to die, this place would have become a barren wasteland, not that it wasn’t on a fast track to do so even with me around. With you here now, things already started changing in small ways.”

He let out an impish smile while sauntering away.

“I wonder how long the humans will take to notice the difference?”

I decided to start cleaning the house, taking my iPod along since I had been music deprived for the past week. I tended to have itchy fingers when I was restless, so one could usually measure my state of mind with the state of our home. Colored dots streaked now and then at the edges of my vision. Guess the pixies were exploring their new home. I just hoped they didn’t have the destructive tendencies of real mice, or this could become costly.

Immersed in my own thoughts and music world, it took me a while to hear the persistent ringing of the doorbell.

It was too late for the usual postal deliveries, and too early for a kid’s prank.

When I opened the door, a nondescript fellow in a plain suit was standing there, nostrils pinched against the feint lingering garbage smell, his hand still hovering above the doorbell.

I had forgotten my notepad, so the cellphone would have to do.

“Yes? What can I do for you?”

“Ah, Miss Abigail Ortiz I presume? I was warned about your…disability. I’m Richard Martin, representative of the Ortiz family in France. I came to deliver an invitation to you and your sister from your grandparents.”

“What about my mother?”

“Hum, I’m sorry, she was mentioned by Mr. and Mrs. Ortiz. But I’m sure if you meet with them we can work over the disagreements of the past!”

“I decline. If they want to see us they can come themselves. Have a good day Mr. Martin.”

With those parting words I slammed the door shut on the retainer’s startled face. Guess he was not used to being refused.

How dare they? My mother gave birth to me when she was only eighteen, struggling to raise me alone for fourteen years without a peep from them.

They were still not around when she met and married Dale, or for Kate’s birth two years later that almost killed mom, or when Dale died and mom had to stay strong for us when Kate was only four.

We pulled through all that by ourselves, relying on each other every day.

And now that we had made a comfortable life for ourselves, as modest as it might have been, they wanted to get to us without even acknowledging mom? And they even sent a lackey to collect us instead of coming here?

Like hell I would let that happen!

I ramped up the music, ignoring the frantic ringing of the doorbell in the background. They could go screw themselves as far as I was concerned, and I was certainly not letting them come anywhere near the imp without mom’s presence.