Chapter One
"Well, here we are." The small, old blue car pulled into the driveway, stopping just before the garage. The door was old and needed to be replaced, so for the moment, John Watson would have to live with parking in the open. "The moving van got here yesterday, but I didn't get anything unpacked other than some blankets, because I had to leave early to come pick you up." He pulled up the parking brake, glancing at the teenager, forehead pressed against the window, staring blankly at the new house. "You can get out, you know."
She glanced at him, blinking to clear her vision. Her eyes had glazed over while they were driving through cow country, but now that they were less blurry, she glanced at the house. It was old, two stories but one was an attic, along with a basement below the first level. John had gotten it cheap because apparantly, it was haunted and the old owners had been terrified out of their wits. Upon hearing this, Mig had giggled for ten straight minutes, imagining flying silverware and dancing tables. From how the realtor had put it, that's what had been going on, but neither John nor Mig really thought it was haunted, or if it was, nothing they couldn't handle would happen.
She opened the passenger door, stepping out onto the asphalt as she grabbed her backpack. Slinging it over her shoulder, she turned back to see John opening the back door on his side, cursing as the mass of fur in the back tried to strangle itself by jumping out of the car before the leach looped around the headrest of the seat was taken off. "A little help!" Mig giggled.
"Why? It's funny." John shoved the fur back and before it could react, he unhooked its collar.
The dog launched itself out of the car, running in circles and sniffing the ground. "C'mon, Dough!" The dog ignored Mig, trotting around the side of the house into the backyard instead. "Oh well. I'll get her eventually. Won't hurt to run around, I guess." John glowered at the brunette; she smiled innocently in responce. He shut the door, stalking to the front door of the house, unlocking it. He pushed the screen door open as far as it would go, pushing the disk up against the spring to keep it open.
"Start grabbing stuff, will you? Or you could pick your room first, but it looks like it's gonna rain." Mig looked up at the sky- it was grey and overcast, giving off a cold chill. An irrepressable shiver ran through her. It was almost ironic- the thought of ghosts in her house made her smile, but the chance of rain...oh no, that made her feel like something was way off. Stupid depressing rain.
Mig slipped her other arm through the other strap of her backpack, running her fingers over the car as she walked to the trunk. She pulled on the handle, stepping abck as the trunk swung up, missing her head. Shelly came up next to her, and Mig scratched her head. The husky-sized mutt jumped up on the trunk, front paws on the rim, stretching her neck to sniff at the cardboard box containing her bones. "Shoo, mutt, you'll get your food as soon as I do. Now go away!" Shelly jumped off the trunk rim, trotting into the house. Mig rolled her eyes, grabbed the cardboard box with the dog food and one of her suitcases, and headed across the grass onto the small concrete slab passing as a porch. She glanced around the room she found herself in- Dining room, going by the heavy wood table and chairs. She looked at the table as she walked past, drawing her attention away when she had to stop suddenly to avoid running into a box. "Okay, why did you put a box in font of a door?" She asked, stepping around it to set her stuff on the floor.
John looked up at Mig from the floor, where he was unpacking a small box. "Because?" The room was full of boxes, stacked almost floor to ceiling, undoubtedly like every other room on the ground floor.
Mig sighed, dropped her backpack and turned on her heel, heading back out to the car to get the things still in the car.
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"So, did you find a room you like?" John asked, looking at Mig. The girl was digging through the boxes to find plates and silverware while John fried hamburgers. Rain poured outside, blurring the lines and soaking everything. It had started soon after Mig had gotten the last few things into the house, and had been going for the past two and a half hours.
"I looekd at the one down here, but it doesn't have a closet, and the basement is cold so I don't wanna stay down there. Least, not in the winter. I didn't get a chance to look at the attic yet, but I want to after dinner. Maybe I'll find a ghost. That box is food." She shoved it aside, grabbing the box cutter to slice the tape on the top of the next one. Mig lifted the flaps, pulling out a paper-covered circle. "I think I found the plates." She set the thing on her lap and ripped the paper off, uncovering the crystal used only for fancy dinners. "Well, it is a plate..."
John shook his head, grinning. "Plate it may be, but your mother will murder me three times over if we use those. Hey, you know that glass cabinet in the dining room? You can put them there." Mig nodded, putting the plate on the floor next to her as she continued to empty the box. More crystal followed the plate: a platter, several goblets, a tea cup and soup bowls. Underneath it all- "Plates!" John looked up as he flipped one burger. "Non-Mom'll-kill-us-if-we-use-them plates!"
"So why don't you just take the bedroom down here? Why look through the attic? According to the realator, the last owners took their pets and the clothes on their backs and not much more and fled, so the people who came to clean up just packed everything up and shoved it up there. The owners said what we want, we can have, but it'll be crowded upn there and you'll have to move a bunch of stuff to fit your bed up there."
Mig waved her hand dismissively at her father. "So? I'll stay down here while I clean it up. Maybe I'll find something cool."
John rolled his eyes. "You have fun with that."
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Mig shifted a box, moving it from it's original spot to the stack on her left. There was that, one in front of the stairs leading up, and one, the smallest, on her right. The left pile was the "Interesting" pile, the one by the door "Look through when I've got nothing better to do" and the last pile, by the door, was "Junk/crap/uninteresting". Mostly books went into that pile- medical books, philosophies...the smutty romances Mig stashed in the top drawer of the large dresser she'd unearthed in the far corner of the attic, along with what looked like a complete set of every Mercedes Lackey book printed.
The attic itself spanned the entire second floor of the house, covering the dining room, kitchen, spare bedroom, master bedroom, and living room, but it has steep sloped walls on two sides, making it feel much smaller than it actually was. At the moment, the dresser, a matching wardrobe, and several bookcases matching the huge table downstairs covered one of the flat walls; Mig's boxes were stacked against the sloped walls, most filled with her books, summer clothes, and collections of stuff that had nowhere to go. Over the span of the rest of the winter and part of early spring, Mig had incessantly cleaned and arranged all the things in the attic. Some of the furniture had moved downstairs, like the couches and all but three bookshelves, but the rest had been deemed to heavy to move and had been left to Mig to deal with.
Mig stood up, bringing her fists up against her spine and bending backwards to pop her back. It was suprisingly hot in the attic, what with all the rain and occasional hail, but Mig figured it was just because she'd been working all day. She was almost done with separating the boxes and piles into stacks, and as soon as she cleared the last little space, she would start going through the stacks. Almost all of the boxes belonging to the previous owners had been emptied or stacked, but for what looked like a hope chest that had been too heavy to move easily. Mig was saving it for last, or until she got really bored, just so she had something to work towards.
She looked at the chest once more- and decided she didn't want to wait. Mig dropped to her knees in front of it, and pulled off the lock; it hadn't even been locked, just thrown up here. She opened the lid, grimacing at the cloud of dust. Clearly, it hadn't been opened in longer than it had been in the attic. Mig waved away the dust, glaring at the small particles visible in the late afternoon sunlight. She blew lightly in the chest, dislodging even more dust. Papers shifted as Mig started to remove the flat, paper-wrapped items on top. She set the first on her lap- it was about five inches by seven or so, with a raised outside and a dent in the center. Having absolutely no idea what it could be, Mig started removing the faded moving paper. She piled it next to her, gasping quietly as she held the thing up in the light.
It was a portrait of a girl, maybe her age or a little older. It was painted in beiges and light browns, and her eyes...they looked like she was actually looking straight at Mig. It disturbed her to the point where she re-wrapped it and set it face down on it's other side. Stephy would love it; she collected old-type stuff, so Mig figured that by giving it to her stepmother, she wouldn't have to see it again.
The next was larger- about as long as her forearm, wide as her spread hand. Mig unwrapped it, finding a sunset picture. SHe stuck her tongue out at it, putting it on top of the paper. The following pictures were mostly landscapes, nothing that interested Mig too terribly much. Beneath the pictures were bunches of papers. Again, boring. Mig dumped the papers on her other side, deeming them worthy of the uninteresting pile.
She frowned, getting up on her knees to lean over the side. The only thing left was another chest, looking identical to a treasure chest. Her curiosity piqued again, she pulled it out.
Mig pushed her hair behind her ears, biting her tongue as she eased the lid off.
It was a jewelry box!
Mig stood, taking the box to her bed. She smoothed out the comforter on top and unceremoniously dumped the box out on her bed.
Rings, necklaces, bracelets, pins...everything imaginable was now scattered all over her bed. A large rock was the first thing that Mig saw, and she reached for it, finding herself with a diamond ring. "Stupid rock. WHy do people even like diamonds?" She set it back in the box to pass on to Stephy. She didn't go for jewelry much either, but she knew how to get the most from pawn shops. Mig picked through the rings, keeping an amethyst surrounded by crystal and a small band lined all around with peridot. The rest went into the box. "Hey, maybe I'll save some for Stephy's birthday. Or all. Or not."
All of the pins were dumped into the box; Mig didn't even look at them. All that was left were bracelets and necklaces. Neither really interested Mig, but she picked through and removed all the beaded and large-rocked ones leaving maybe seven necklaces and a handful of bracelets. Mig spread them out, her eyes falling on one that had escaped her previously. It was half-hidden under her pillow. Mig pulled it out, holding it up to the light coming in from the bay window on one of the flat walls. It was a simple silver chain, with a pearl mounted on a dolphin tail. It swung and twirled, shining different colors as the light caught it. Mig clasped it around her neck, running her fingers over it. "What an odd necklace..."
A flash of light made Mig blink; she rubbed her eyes, but the light returned, staying. Mig squeezed her eyes shut, but they shot open when it felt like she was falling off her bed. Mig slammed them shut, screaming as she fell end over end, vertigo making her head spin.
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"Princess, which gown do you wish to wear to sup?" The lady-in-waiting asked, curtseying deeply as the blonde girl looked up from her book. She was curled up in the armchair nearest the fire, which was roaring merrily. Allehsendri's deep blue eyes flicked from her lady-in-waiting to the open wardrobe.
"The gold and white gown shall do, Lady Saria."
The simpering girl took the gown out of the wardrobe, laying it carefully over the dress stand. Allehsendri watched her out of the corners of her eyes as she went about gathering the matching accesories: a sash, shoes, hair ribbons, the like; this particular girl had tried to steal one of Allehsendri's chokers on the day of her arrival at Oprea Palace. Since that day, Allehsendri made a point of wearing that choker when she knew she would be in contact with the girl, to wave it over her head that she had failed. Of course, she had gotten out of the resulting punishment by pleading temporary stupidity. The necklace was so pretty and it had hypnotized her. And, of course, the jury believed her. Not only was Allehsendri a foriegn princess, but she came from a land filled with magic. Maybe the choker actually was magic? Allehsendri had refused when a magician had asked to test it for magic; she was royalty and to accuse her of treachery such as using magics to confuse and befuddle a poor young noble was simply rude, meaning Allehsendri was free to refuse. Since then, she had been under watch to make sure she wasn't using magics. Allehsendri thought the whole thing was idiotic, and her mother agreed. But, "You must be nice to the underlings, my light, they will be your backbone when you assume my throne. Be fair, and just. Remember always: you are above simple things like those you were accused of."
"Is there anything you will be needing, Your Highness?" Allehsendri could almost hear the capital letters. Lady Saria was not yet forgiven- both she and Allehsendri knew it had not been magiked, and Allehsendri was going to make the girl serve her on hands and knees if she felt like it. Allehsendri could present proof any time to prove Saria wrong, so Saria would do anything Allehsendri requested. It was rather sad, Allehsendri mused, but one must do certain things to retain their place, even if those things may occasionally be underhanded and sneaky.
"That is all."
Saria curtseyed again, backing out of the room.
