Stray Souls (Magicals Anonymous) Read Online Free PDF

Wembley. Her orange sari, threaded with blue and purchased in Bethnal Green some ten years ago, was getting a bit tatty round the hem.
    “But I don’t mind, I mean some people say it’s silly to wear a sari in Wembley, but actually I think it’s very comfortable, and modest, and allows you to have some strong colour in your life without making a fool of yourself because it’s so easy with fashion these days to make a fool of yourself, I’d say it’s a safety thing, isn’t it, wearing what you’re comfortable with not to make a point. I’m rambling again, aren’t I? I’m sorry, I do that.
    “Um, excuse me?” The bone-white, wrinkle-ridden, spot-stained hand of Mr Roding (Necromancy is such a misunderstood discipline) was raised in polite enquiry. “I don’t mean to complain, and I’m sure you’re a very lovely woman, Mrs Rafaat, but feeling ‘quite worried’ isn’t what we’re here for. I mean, we all feel worried, don’t we?”
    A chorus of consent.
    “But our worries stem from very specific causes. I, for one, can halt the passage of degrading time upon my body through the use of ancient lore studied over many a sagely lifetime, but I still haven’t found a solution for the skin-sloughing issue. The books recommend aloe vera, fat lot of use that was. But, the thing is, Mrs Rafaat, I’m not sure your problems really compare.”
    Mrs Rafaat’s face sank. Seemingly each muscle contracted one at a time until only a pair of wide, sorrowful eyes protruded. “I’m very sorry,” she mumbled, unable to meet Mr Roding’s watery-green gaze flecked with shattered capillaries. “I just didn’t know where else to go and when I saw that this group was organising I thought… it seemed so right. I can’t explain it, but I know… I don’t know what I know I just know… there’s something terribly important I’ve forgotten. But I don’t know what it is.”
    One or two dirty looks were shot at Mr Roding, who had the good manners to stare in shame at his shiny black shoes.
    Sharon cleared her throat. “It’s okay, Mrs Rafaat. We’re completely on board with where you’re coming from. In fact, I’ve personally experienced something similar to what you describe. I uh… I know things. I don’t know how, but… there was this moment. A momentwhen I knew I knew everything about the city, everything that was, and has been, and will be again and then… then I didn’t. So I guess I’m saying that’s cool, you know?”
    Was that a helpful response, she wondered? Did senior citizens appreciate the multi-faceted aspects of that well-worn “That’s cool, you know?” “We’re all glad to have you in this group, aren’t we?” she added, shooting a glare around at any possible dissenters.
    A mumble of assent arose from the gathering, and Mrs Rafaat’s head lifted in cautious optimism.
    “That’s very nice of you, but if you really don’t—”
    “We do,” insisted Sharon. “We absolutely all do.” She had a very stubborn chin when she needed one. Somewhere in the lineage of the Li family several generations of well-bred Manchurian ladies had each married a well-educated young man, only to discover that while a charming smile went a long way, a sharp heel and well-kept nails might get you further.
    “They say,” stammered Mrs Rafaat, “they say… something is missing. Places where there should have been noise are… Is this something people are worried about because I find it very worrying? They say that the spirits of things, I mean, not the spirits, not the fairies or anything fluffy, but the… the heart of things, the soul behind the walls the… the things with the ears, if that makes sense to you, they say they’re vanishing. One night they’re there–you walk alone but you are not alone–and then the next they’re… they’re gone.”
    Someone coughed. The cough belonged to Rhys I’m-a-druid-well-sort-of-well-I-tried-but-you-know-how-it-is (Hello, Rhys). It was followed by a