Trueth stared into the greenery behind the swing. Banana shrubs bearing clusters of unripe fruit were featuring prominently as did other bushes she could not name. From somewhere came the sound of the traffic, muted to a distant surf, and the result was soporific. Whether it was by magic or owed to the dense vegetation sheltering the garden, this was an enchanted place and Trueth's clenched jaw relaxed.
The fiend rose to pace the grass between the rattan settee and the fountain still tinkling away behind them. Indignant twittering was the response to his intrusion and a flock of sparrows took to the air.
'What is it that makes you run into deserts and explode in the face of your rescuer?' He said. 'I'm aware that father was annoyed at my delay and gave a boring talk to get rid of your group—but that usually has people snoring, it doesn't turn them into suicidal fireworks.'
The knot in her belly reappeared. 'Why should I trust you?'
With a snort, the spooky young man returned and threw himself on the settee with his arms crossed. 'Without me, you wouldn't be asking questions. You would be dead.'
He does have a point there. 'Maybe I had enough.' Trueth surprised herself with that answer.
'Enough of what?'
'Maybe I don't want to tell you?' Trueth said. 'I still don't trust you.'
The fiend glared at her. His sister snapped her fingers; he turned towards the girl and snarled 'What?'
The two siblings faced each other without saying a word, waving their hands in the air while the fountain trickled away the seconds. With a grunt, the fiend jumped up, strode towards the living room and slammed the screen door shut behind him. Before Trueth had time to comment, the girl spoke again.
'He's ok, honestly, just full of himself. And he does have a point, you might have died out there.' She had a lovely candid smile, but something was definitely amiss.
'What...How...Am I nuts, or did you just have a conversation?' Trueth asked.
'Oh yes. We call it mind-talk. It's easy for those with the sun-flow. Like us. And you.'
'Sun-flow?' She had heard this before. An ember of hope glimmered in the pit of frustration her life had become. 'You mean—you are—magical? I'm not imagining things?'
The beauty opposite Trueth burst into another fit of the giggles. 'Don't tell me you're still surprised? Of course, we are. The question is what are you exactly? Care to let me know?'
The girl got serious again. 'We want to help you, and that includes big bro when he's not acting the pompous ass.' She patted the seat next to herself. Trueth reckoned her companion was only in her late teens, yet she sounded like the friend Trueth never had had. Or a younger sister more amenable than her own.
But showing means death... . Trouble was, she had showed herself back in the desert. And she was still alive. Trueth joined the girl on the swing and started talking.
'I have no clue what I am.' She hesitated. 'Oh yes, I do. I'm a freak. Whenever I get upset, my left hand tickles, then burns and if I'm really stressed, this blue lightning bursts out, right here where this birthmark is.' She pushed the treacherous hand with its coin-sized bruise towards the girl's face. 'It's becoming ever more powerful, happens increasingly often, and I struggle to contain that shit. I started a fire a few weeks ago. It was only my neighbour's lawnmower—but even so... . I'm a menace to society, and I just don't fit.' The last bit came out as a shriek, tears rose in her eyes--and her hand began its tingling.
The girl touched Trueth's arm and shared more than warmth. The tightness in her chest went away, was replaced by a drowsy calm. The swing rocked gently.
'Join the club,' the girl said. 'But you still haven't told me what you are. I suppose, I can guess. Metjen has been searching for people of—let's call them our breed, shall we? Not many are left these days. A handful in the Americas, even in Australia and Asia. We spend a lot of time in Europe, my twin brother and I study in Oxford. Metjen did as well, he's an archaeologist, like Dad.'
She stopped and fanned herself with her hand. 'Where was I? I always lose the plot. Scatterbrained, big bro says. Ah, Europe. Metjen calls it a dead boring continent. In any case, he found nobody there and were convinced the witch hunters had got all of your folks. You've proven us wrong, haven't you?'
So Trueth was not the only misfit in the world after all. The thought sent up a bubble of elation, but it fizzled out soon afterwards. 'I might have proven you wrong--but I also seem to be the only one left of whoever they were. My family fled Germany together with others, and they tried to shelter in Cornwall—yet it did them no good. They're all gone.'
'How can you know these things if everybody is dead?' Rani-Ra asked.
Trueth wondered briefly how she had remembered the girl's name.
'Grammy told me. I mean, my grandmother. Those with the curse always were told the ancient stories. My grandmather believed that these people, before they burned at the stake, hid their children and messed with their minds, so unless your powers are strong enough, you're not even aware that you possess them.'
'So possibly there are others, but they don't have a clue who they are?' Rani-Ra said.
Trueth kept picking at the wickerwork of the swing. The screen door banged once more and the fiend returned with another pitcher of that infernal tea. His name was Metjen, she recalled. She certainly was in fine form all of a sudden.
'Hm, possible. Grammy also told me I shouldn't worry if I felt the heat coming, that it was a good thing,' Trueth said.
'Good thing? Grilling people?' Metjen asked and threw himself into the chair Trueth had vacated earlier.
The girl lobbed a pillow at her brother; it veered off in mid-air and bounced onto the lawn. 'You're a real horror.'
These two clearly took their magic for granted. Trueth inhaled once and continued. 'Grammy must have had a different phenomenon in mind, I can't believe she set stuff on fire. I loved my grandmother. She understood me,' Trueth said wistfully. 'She had an idea why I forget things all the time, it's that curse they put on their kids. I only wish they'd done it properly—cut off this stupid power, so I could live normally and not hang around like this—loser that I am.'
Once more, she stared into the wall of plants, tracking the erratic progress of a blue butterfly among the bushes. 'I shouldn't exist. I can't get anything right. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be or do.'
Rani-Ra stroked Trueth's arm. 'Well, we face a similar problem. So you aren't alone any more now that you have joined us,' The girl smiled at her again and for the first time in—years?—Trueth felt a peace of mind.
The screen door banged open and another good-looking young man walked out onto the lawn. A bottle of water bobbed along ahead of him, and Trueth slowly got up from her chair.
'Ranofer!' The bottle dropped to the ground and bounced twice. The newcomer picked it up, blinking sheepishly at Metjen.
'I say ... .'
'Dearest brother, say nothing,' Metjen snarled. 'Just be so kind as to spare our guest unnecessary demonstrations of what you can do. And you, Trueth, sit down. If you freak out every time strange things happen in this house, you'll have another breakdown soon.'
The pillow launched itself back onto the swing.
Trueth swallowed and tried to get a grip on her nerves. Next, she got annoyed with herself. This family bred only film stars, and at least the oldest of them displayed exactly the attitude she detested as it floated only on looks and hot air.
Film star—a memory flitted into her brain and out again. Another thought stuck. 'What shall I do? I mean, I can't join the tour again?'
Metjen laughed. 'I wouldn't let you if you tried. Next time you might set the tourist coach on fire—or jump into the Nile if you're going for a variation. They say if you save a person's life you are responsible, and this means I have to take care of you.'
A thought bumbled through Trueth's brain. 'Are there still crocodiles in the Nile?'
'Sorry? What are you now after—death by crocodile? In Assuan you might succeed but not here. You're much more likely to get run over by a pleasure boat.' Metjen stared past Trueth, shaking his head.
Loud howling and growling followed by high-pitched squeals erupted from the house, and Trueth nearly toppled her chair.
'Hey, I told you not to stress out! It's only the cats. They aren't happy when we sit out here, and they are blocked by the bug screen.' Metjen's growling matched the mood of his pets.
'Do you have cats?' Ranofer—they had such weird names—asked her. 'If you're a witch you must have a familiar?'
'I'm no witch! Where did you get this from, you weren't even here when we talked—oh forget it.' Trueth slumped over the table and put her head in her hands. 'Cats make me nervous, they stare at you and run away if you are lucky or poke holes into you if you're unlucky,' she mumbled into the smooth teak of the table before sitting up again.
'Rubbish,' Rani-Ra said. 'Metjen, any ideas how we can help her?'
'She will stay with us for a while, at least until she has her marbles back. You never know, we might convince her to stay a bit longer.' Metjen glared through his brother and sister. They both averted their eyes. Trueth could not blame them, something about the guy was weird.
The shadows thrown by the rampant vegetation had lengthened, and the light was fading. As if on cue, what sounded like a warble punctuated the evening calm, it was soon joined by similar sounds in the distance.
'Ah, sunset. The Muslims will be breaking their fast. I wouldn't mind joining them,' Ranofer said.
'Doesn't happen often, but sounds like good idea. Let's go into town and grab a bite,' Metjen said.
'How much have you seen of Cairo—I mean seen and not dashed through?' Rani-Ra asked.
Trueth groaned. 'Less of the touristy stuff, please. This place is littered with tombs and pyramids and things. And it's far too noisy for my taste. I used to love ancient history when I was a kid, but then my problems started, and I lost interest. Unfortunately, my mother still has me stuck at that age, and when she won this trip, she passed it on as a reward for bamboozling idiots into employing me.'
'That was very kind of your mother, wasn't it?' Rani-Ra voice conveyed mild reproof.
Trueth sighed. 'I suppose so. We don't get on. I'm not cuddly like my sister.'
Metjen opened a gate at the back of the garden. 'You coming or what?'
'You don't expect us to be ready at the drop of a hat, do you?' Rani-Ra responded and grabbed Trueth's hand. 'We'll be with you shortly.'
In the quiet of her bedroom, Trueth reclaimed her freshly-laundered jeans and T-shirt before joining the others and climbing into Metjen's Jeep with a feeling of dread. She was not to be disappointed. He had a Mexican standoff approach to driving and expected the other traffic to veer out of his way even if there was no space for manoeuvres. To Trueth's great surprise they made it into the town centre without more than a few near-collisions.
'We have to walk from now on,' Ranofer explained and handed over a fistful of dodgy-looking notes to a famished child. 'The car is safer here.'
Trueth had no choice but to follow the others as they were pushing their way through crowds of people. People sitting in cafes and restaurants, people roaming the streets with food in their hand, people entering shops, people everywhere. The huge metropolis had turned into one great eatery illuminated by the glitter of a myriad of red, yellow and green lanterns. By the time they had reached the river, Trueth was ravenous and more than happy to board one of the boats. They clanged up a staircase and installed themselves on the upper deck under the stars. How her new companions had managed to secure a table, Trueth did not know. It could only be magic.
'Given that you are an anthropologist, experiencing a different culture must give you quite the thrill,' Metjen said when the waiter had come and gone after a rapid-fire exchange in Arabic.
Trueth could only hope they would not end up with grilled crocodile or whatever the local delicacy happened to be. 'I studied customs and culture of sixteenth and seventeenth century Europe' she said. 'I wanted to understand the reason for the witchhunts. And I neededto know whethere there were any...you know...real witches among the victims.'
The multicoloured lights reflected off the Nile's surface, broken and shattered like the pieces of her past. She had searched so hard. Never had she expected to find the answer to her many questions in a foreign country.
For once Metjen said nothing. Trueth listened to the sound of Arabic music; the many Nile boats were engaged in a contest of decibels and savoury smells. On the shore, a mosque threw green light on a band of men in galabiyas, who thumped long sticks onto the ground to an amplified rhythm coming from one of the crowded tea-houses. She was not a party person but for once she enjoyed being part of the crowd. Felt safe.
Ranofer filled her glass with ice-tea and said 'Welcome to Egypt. You're one of us. We'll look after you.'
She was not sure whether this was possible. But he was right on one count. She was no longer alone.
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What do they call this? The calm before the storm? Something along those lines... Any questions, constructive comments or feedback you might have will be most appreciated. As are your votes (sorry to be so persistent, but ....)
This chapter is dedicated to @Wizzobravo. Because of the lawnmower. And I herewith declare mine was in the chapter before I even read 'Fantasy in the City', a collation of short stories I can definitely recommend!