Eisenstern 3.6 – K. Alvares

I had no idea my life could turn so thoroughly inside out in such a short period of time. All it takes is a split second, and your whole life could change.

As far as I know, everything was going great. Moms were helping with Ivander, and Cassie was recovering decently well. She started moving around more, thankfully, doing more things on her own, and while I was fretting a lot, it was getting better.

And then… one morning, I woke up, and she was gone.

I got up. On the night stand beside my side of the bed, she’d left her engagement ring, the wedding bands, and a note that just said, “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry.

That’s all our relationship amounted to.

That’s all she could think to say about us.

Ivander’s gone, too.

How am I supposed to move forward from this? What even just happened? Maybe she thought it was the right thing to do, I don’t know. What I do know is, I feel lost, and… if she comes back, I think mom might kill her, if grandpa doesn’t get to her first. Or Hilda, for that matter.

I haven’t gone back into Ivander’s room since. Most of everything that would remind me of her is gone, but her perfume lingers. I can’t sleep in what used to be our room anymore, and have taken to sleeping in the spare room. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know where to go from here.

“Gabriel Ezra, are you listening to me?”

Honestly? No.

“Not really, mom,” I said.

Mom sighed. “At least you’re being honest, I suppose,” she said. “Why don’t you go see your sister, mm? It’d be good for you to get out of the house, take your mind off things.”

“I don’t need a distraction,” I argued.

Mom frowned at me, and then raised one eyebrow in that almost-trademark Eisenstern way. “You’ve not left the spare room in four days,” she said. “I’d say you need a distraction.”

I’d been reading… books were that kind of thing where, at least if they were going to turn around and stab you in the back, you saw it coming.

“I know you’re having a hard time,” she said. “But your grandfather’s got half the police force looking for them. We’ll find them and figure out what’s going on. There’s no sense in wearing yourself down like this waiting, though.”

“I’ve been eating,” I said. “And sleeping. Sort of.” It was tough to fall asleep and stay that way, but having Diaval around was helpful at least. He was a soothing presence that most weren’t.

“Go see Hilda,” mom said, in that ‘we’re done talking’ tone. I was a little old for that tone, but whatever, I guess.

The walk across the street wasn’t far, of course. And mom was right, and the fresh air was good for my head, even if I didn’t want to admit to it. The birds were chirping, and it was a nice day, if annoyingly bright and pretty cold. I’ve never hated the cold, but it’s definitely not my thing. (Stories I’ve heard over the years say, the cold’s grandpa’s thing.)

As soon as Hilda saw me through the door, she made an expression I can only describe as a face, grabbed her jacket, and came outside instead of letting me in. I’d wonder about it, but her husband Austin was in the living room. I guess she had things to say she didn’t think he should hear.

“How are you?” she asked, once we got out onto the porch and the door was closed.

I shrugged. “Mom sent me over here,” I said. “She seems to think I’m upset or something. I’m not.”

Hilda’s eyes narrowed, her gaze softening.

And that was just it. That was what I hated the most about this. The way everyone looked at me. Like somehow this was something for everyone to feel sorry about. Something in me knew, too, she was gone, and I hated it because I didn’t understand why and I wanted her to come back and I never wanted to see her again. Maybe the cops would find her eventually. Grandpa sure had a few impressive connections. But there would be no going back to how things were.

We had a lot to talk about, at least.

“It’s okay, you know,” Hilda said. “To be angry.”

I turned away, staring at the wall. I wasn’t angry. That was just all it knew how to express itself as.

“And for the record,” Hilda went on, “if she ever shows her face around here again without a really good excuse, I’m going to kill her.”

That got an interesting blink, and I glanced over at her. “I… think maybe we should not skip the steps in-between that and murder,” I said.

“You’d do the same for me,” Hilda answered, as if it explained everything.

“Murder is bad, sis,” I said. “Even if it is really tempting.”

“I guess,” Hilda said. “But I may or may not throw magic at her at least.”

I frowned. “I wouldn’t do that, either,” I said. “She’s a Goth and all of that. They’re supposed to be difficult to beat in a magic fight.”

“So are we,” Hilda answered. “You know, Iv- … our kids would be ancient bloodline spellcasters. Read, pretty powerful.”

“Not that it matters,” I said. “I’m not having any more kids, and besides, even if I was, I wouldn’t put them up to taking down an entire line over something trivial.”

Hilda shrugged. “I just think there’s more to this than meets the eye, that’s all,” she said. “It’s all speculation right now, but I’ve got this feeling that this is only the beginning of something much bigger.”

I was quiet for a moment, eyeing her. Since she wasn’t heir, mom didn’t have that discussion with her, that discussion she’d had with me one night about how the Eisensterns were starting to gain power, and clout. And with power, clout, and reputation came a lot of potential for other things, some of those other things not very pretty.

Maybe she’s right, and there is more to this than meets the eye.

Pfft. Wouldn’t it just be my luck, mom chose me because I’m not the easily manipulated one of us, and then I went and got manipulated.

I decided it’s probably best not to think about it too long. I went home. Found myself staring at the pictures on the walls, like usual. There are so many of them on the walls now, it’s almost impressive, but to be fair, we have several generations of photos up there now. I wanted to add my own to them, a little collection of pictures of Cassandra and Ivander, and maybe me sometimes.

So much for that.

How was I supposed to stay heir if I didn’t have an heir myself anymore, anyway? Mom never mentioned it, and I’ll be honest, I didn’t read that part of the legacy information.

A weird noise interrupted my thoughts.

“Ah, it’s nice to finally meet you,” said a feminine, and weirdly distorted, voice.

I turned around. I could see her, and also the wall through her. I raised an eyebrow. “… finally?” I asked.

“I’m your aunt,” she said. “Aunt Stella. I married your uncle Cynemaer.”

Oh. Mom’s twin. I couldn’t really tell what she’d looked like in life, so I wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth or if I was just losing my mind. Either one was possible.

“You’re not going crazy,” she said, smiling. “Mediumship runs in the Eisenstern family. It started with Ezio, and sort of went random places from there. I wasn’t sure if you’d gotten it or not.”

“Seems that way,” I said.

“Well, either that or trauma suddenly awakened it for you,” she said.

“Why are you here?” I asked. I’d rather talk about that than my messed up life.

“To give you a warning,” she said. “The Goth line is old and powerful. Their numbers are waning, however, but don’t mistaken that for a weakness. Unfortunately, the Eisensterns and the Goths may yet be at war. Some people don’t like how strong we’re getting.”

As if nothing had even been said at all, she turned around, and floated through the wall. And I still wondered if I was losing it.

The police found her. She’d moved back to her childhood home in Willow Creek, and had no intention of returning. She filed for divorce some time after, and unfortunately, her influence was a little better and more extensive than ours, and she won custody of Ivander.

It was the end of any hope I had of reconciling and repairing the sudden rift in us. When we crossed paths in the hallway at the courthouse, she said nothing to me, just gave me this hateful stare, and then walked away. I had to wonder then, what exactly the last few years of our lives had been to her. Then, in hindsight, I realised that things had been weird between us for quite some time and I’d just refused to see it.

It was time to call in a favour.

When I’d first had the house rebuilt, I’d gotten particularly close with a couple contractors. Building guys that knew city ordinances and codes in a way I didn’t and could draw up some blueprints, get us building permits, and… rebuild the house. Again.

I’d had the house built for her. Now that she wasn’t in it anymore, and had no intention of returning, it seemed silly to keep it.

Mom barely remembered the house, but between her and her siblings, they managed to draw up the vague floorplan of the house they’d grown up in. ( And then aunt Freya just called grandpa. Turned out he still had the blueprints. ) I made a few adjustments to it, and then gave it to the construction guys, and had them build it.

Diaval seemed to know where he was within minutes of walking in the door. It was kind of cute to see.

As for me, it was just nice to have a change of scenery. The house is smaller than the Victorian manor I’d had built, but it was somehow cozier and I like it better. More befitting the Eisensterns I guess, given we’re not really all that important yet. ( Mostly, people know us as that one crazy spellcaster family that thinks they’re going to save the spellcaster race single-handedly and don’t even know how they’re going to! Lolos. )

Not that it matters how I feel. Hilda will be taking over the legacy after me, probably. I can’t imagine moms wasting time waiting for me to get over my feelings and find another girlfriend. I mean, I can’t imagine finding another girlfriend.

“Looks about right, yeah?” I asked.

Mom nodded, smiling. “It’s exactly as I remember,” she said. “Well, save for the kitchen. But the kitchen looks nice too.”

“I wanted something a bit darker and some stone, I guess,” I answered.

“Like I said, it looks nice,” she said. “Not that my opinion matters. It’s your house.”

I raised an eyebrow. Mom raised an eyebrow back. Other mom started laughing.

“I think he assumed Hilda would be taking over,” she said.

Mom snorted. “Oh, psh,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “There’s still time. You can have another child eventually, you know.”

I smiled sadly, glancing at the floor. I still couldn’t imagine that. “I can’t believe I lost him,” I said quietly.

I could believe it. I didn’t want to.

“The Goths have friends everywhere,” mom said, reaching over and patting my shoulder. “And very deep pockets. But these things, they are not eternal. Something, someday, even if it isn’t us, will bring them down a peg or two.”

Avery aged up and turned even more Asian somehow. I must be used to Chinese grandmas giving me the stink-eye.

I set to making meals to stock the fridge. Fortunately, I didn’t instinctively make too much. One mom went to sleep. The other sat down at the bar behind me, and I pretended I couldn’t feel her eyes boring into me.

It’s like all Asian moms reach a certain age and evolve into dragons, powerful, and they know everything.

“You gonna be okay?” she asked eventually.

I glanced over my shoulder, and then turned back to the stove. I was quiet, for a moment. “Yeah,” I said. “Of course.”

I didn’t really believe that.

Mom didn’t believe me, either.