Madonnalisa thought, watching the Archbishop on TV.

  She sat with her legs crossed on a pile of blankets in the middle of her living room floor. Surrounding her in the dimness were her mother’s belongings: necklaces, bracelets, and other jewellery as well as old clothes, family photos, toys and dolls from her mother’s childhood, her mother’s wedding dress, and anything that her mother had held dear, anything with remnants of her ether lingering on it. Anything that could be used as a reference for channeling her mother’s soul. It all encircled her as she sat, a total dishevelled mess. She spent the last five days performing one ritual after another, doing whatever she could to track down the whereabouts of her mother in the afterlife, her turmoil ever unrelieved.

  Her spirit friends appeared in her mind, having returned from searching the astral realm for the twelfth time today. For the twelfth time today, she was told that no trace of her mother’s soul could be found anywhere that her spirit friends could access.

  She dismissed them and bid them farewell for the day.

  After the spirits had left, she stood from the heap of her mother’s things, turning to look at Froggo who was napping on the sofa behind her. Her sister had gone through a more adverse reaction to current affairs, needing to take time off her job at the night pub due to mental distress. For the two of them, life seemed like it had taken a sudden turn for the worse. Even the assurance that Madonnalisa had done all she could until now did little to quell her stress. It was a strange sort of incongruity, her logical mind understood that nothing more could be done, but her heart told her she could still do more. She had exhausted every method at her disposal, having even dipped her toes in divination, something she had known nothing about before, but now knew far too much about. Desperation could turn even the laziest slouch into a fast-learning workaholic.

  She crossed over the mess on the floorboards and switched on the light, then, with a sigh, crossed back in one big step before shaking her sister awake. “C’mon Froggo, you’ve got to get to work in a few hours. You’re out of days off remember.”

  Froggo groaned. “W—what? Oh, give it a rest. Go tell my worthless slag of a manager I quit. I hate that woman.”

  She turned under the sheet, facing away from Madonnalisa.

  “We’re not quitters, remember?” Madonnalisa said, pompously. “That’s not how Mother raised us.”

  “Have you had any success today?”

  Madonnalisa didn’t answer.

  Froggo understood and let out a sigh. “I can’t go to work like this.”

  Madonnalisa sat on the sofa’s edge, careful not to disturb her sister too much.

  “Ugh, Madonnalisa move, you’re squashing me into paste with that massive ass of yours,” Froggo whined, then sat up drowsily, her golden hair was in total disarray, her face scrunching as she tried to focus on the clock on the wall through a half-awakened squint. “Fuck, it’s already the eighteenth hour?”

  In certain ways, Froggo felt more like a brother than a sister, being by far the more tomboyish of the two. She remembered a time when Froggo was the more reserved of the two of them. Back then they lived in Utero. When they came to the city a few years ago, her sister toughened up considerably and lost much of her softness. A lot of that vulnerability had returned once she heard the news about Gillian, and subsequently their mother’s soul’s disappearance.

  Froggo eventually went upstairs to the bathroom to get herself ready for work.

  Madonnalisa had plans for today; she was going to have evening tea with Aunt Yohanna and her uncle, before going with her uncle to a church meeting. From what she had been told on the phone yesterday, the meeting had to do with the Apostles. She wasn’t sure why she was invited, as she held no formal rank.

  After cleaning up all her mother’s things and putting them up in the attic, she descended to her bedroom and examined herself in the mirror.

  With her bedroom door open, she heard the muffled scream of the shower as it blasted the bathtub, indicating Froggo wouldn’t be out of the bathroom for some time. Madonnalisa was in no mood to put on makeup today, but did need to relieve herself.

  She threw on a grey coat over her outfit consisting of simple fitted black pants and a white dress shirt.

  She normally took pride in her hourglass figure and wore clothes that complemented her shape, but these past days she couldn’t be bothered with any of that. She left, putting on her shoes, taking her things, throwing on her purse, and going straight for the front door. She noticed some letters that had arrived: three resting on the doormat, one halfway through the mail slot that she took and examined, seeing that it was addressed to her husband.

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  She squatted to give the other three a look. They were also addressed to him. She put them all on the kitchen table, having not opened any, so as not to stick her nose where it didn't belong. I'm sure he'll spot them once he gets back from whatever he had gone off to do earlier this morning, he always goes to the kitchen first when he gets back.

  Briefly, she checked the refrigerator, seeing that the food left for him last night was still there, the plate still full. Delicious horse stew, cold to the touch. There was another half-eaten portion too, this one Froggo’s.

  She took the full portion and put it in a metal container.

  That man only ever ate food he cooked for himself and only himself, leaving the dinners she made for him to go cold. It was something that poisoned her soul every day, but she was confident he'd give in and enjoy her cooking eventually. She took the container with her as she left, intending to give the food to either Aunt Yohanna or her Uncle.

  After closing the front door, she brushed aside some leaves that were brushing up on her. There was a miniature palm tree to the left of the front door, filling the slight space where the handrail curved into the wall.

  Filling the space opposite the palm tree was her mother’s Neafuma statue.

  The roses hung along the front door were wilting too.

  She hadn't noticed these issues yesterday when she went to go shopping. Only now had her mood recovered to the point of her remembering her wifely duties.

  Arriving at Aunt Yohanna’s foster home after a five-minute walk, she was greeted by an explosion of foul-smelling green gas.

  “AUNTIE MADONNALISA!” Pyunaan’s voice sounded. “Finaggan did it! He's running up the stairs to go hide in his room!”

  “Good evening Pyunaan!” Madonnalisa greeted, closing the door behind her before sweeping up the girl in a hug.

  “Good evening Auntie,” Pyunaan said, hugging Madonnalisa tightly.

  “Finaggan!” Madonnalisa yelled. “Get down here before I tell Aunt Yohanna what you've done!”

  Finaggan’s mess of blond hair poked out from around the corner leading to the staircase, his silver eyes squinting with amusement.

  Relying on her superhuman speed, she dashed behind him and caught him by the arm before pulling him into a headlock and twisting his ear. “You little rascal!”

  Through gritted teeth, he disputed. “Little? I'm almost as tall as you are!”

  “You barely come up to my shoulder.”

  “Nah ah!”

  “Apologise for your little prank. That was a stink potion just now, right? Did you make it yourself? I see you've hidden it somewhere so Apologise before I find it and make you gulp it down.”

  “Never! You won't be able to find it in a million years!”

  “Nothing gets past me,” Madonnalisa said, proudly.

  Another cloud of green gas exploded in her face.

  Finaggan laughed. “I’ve been holding the potion between my knees! If you didn't have your tits taking up all that space in front of you you'd have seen it.”

  “Excuse me!”

  Madonnalisa spanked the boy on his behind so hard he went flying into the living room. She grabbed the potion out of the air that had gone flying with him, moved quickly to catch him before he hit the ground, then threw him onto a pillow on the sofa.

  “Haha!” Mistria, another young boy, ran in and teased Finaggan immediately. “She kicked your ass, mate! I'm gonna tell everyone at school tomorrow.”

  “Come here!” Finaggan sprang across the room and chased him up the stairs.

  Madonnalisa felt a tug on her coat.

  It was Pyunaan who was offering her something. “Auntie! I made you this!”

  It was a cookie. Madonnalisa took it from her and ate it. “Delicious! Why only one though?”

  “I ate the rest of them, I'm sorry I couldn't help it.”

  “Fatty!” Finaggan yelled from upstairs.

  Pouting, Pyunaan balled her fists and ran up there after him.

  Madonnalisa sighed as she continued towards the backyard. As gloomy as she was, she'd still put on a smile for the kids. A child’s joy and wonder were something sacred, she’d never let her mood ruin such things. She emptied the potion in the sink and threw the bottle in the bin.

  “What’s with that smell?” Aunt Yohanna sneered, pinching her nose as she came in through the back door. “Good evening, Madonnalisa, darling. I hope Finaggan hasn't been throwing around those rotten potions again.”

  “Good evening, Auntie. He got me not once, but twice with those blasted things.”

  “Well come out to the back, I'll have a stern word with him later. That boy is so gifted, I can't have him wasting his talent on harassment.”

  “You don't need to be too harsh on him, I'm really not bothered by it. It's good for children to have fun.”

  “You have such a soft spot for brats.”

  Madonnalisa giggled. “Mother said once that children love without the fear of being hurt, and hope without the fear of being let down, and that those traits give them a form of freedom most adults are too scared to embrace. I try to live freely in that way too.”

  “All sunshine, you. Come let's go sit down. We've got something important to talk about.”

  “What is it?”

  When they stepped out and came to a table attended by her uncle and Aunt Yohanna’s good friend Aunt Lily, Aunt Yohanna said. “We’ve been talking about the Tunsihaba show. I've been telling your uncle not to have faith in what that no-good Odiggan is doing.”

  Her uncle scoffed. “You're making it seem like it was my idea to make a deal with him. You should be warning the Archbishop, not me. I'm just the Bishop who overlooks this city's branches, I don't have the authority to go against him.”

  “I do understand,” Madonnalisa said, taking a seat at the table. “This is a form of financial exploitation.”

  “Yes,” Aunt Yohanna said, “That, and there's the fact that the sprite doesn't belong to the Orions.”

  “It doesn't?” Madonnalisa asked.

  “It was her oldest who bred the creatures.” Aunt Lily revealed, smoking a cigarette as she read a newspaper.

  “Seriously?” Madonnalisa was taken aback.

  “Okimoto is the boy’s name.” Aunt Yohanna explained. “You don't know him since he's never around when you visit. He attended Toaddor University and the Orions had him expelled after stealing the sprite off him.”

  “Oh blimey, that's awful,” Madonnalisa said. “You can sue for this kind of thing, can't you?”

  “Not only can he sue them.” Her uncle said, “With their wealth, they'll potentially have to pay him millions in damages. Naturally, this is dependent on his supplying sufficient evidence for his claim.”

  “I think you're too optimistic.” Aunt Lily said. “The Orions' bribing their way out of trouble is much more likely to happen.”

  “Ugh,” Aunt Yohanna groaned. “It's not completely guaranteed that they'll get away with that, though they'll certainly try. Remember glorialisa’s husband Frandy? He was able to sue the Picnie family for three million after he caught pneumonia from working in their factories. They're quite powerful too.”

  “But they're not a mage family,” Aunt Lily said, expelling a cloud from her wrinkled lips. “Yohanna, love, everyone knows that ungifted nobles are a joke. They can't get away with half the things mage nobles do.”

  “Such is the nature of power.” Uncle said.

  Madonnalisa became greatly worried.