A little poem I wrote this morning while sitting on my porch that I want to share. I want to title it “Dandelion.”:

I want to be the single dandelion

the one that stands in the front yard

soaking up the new day

It has no worries, no cares

It just is, it is present

At any point someone can pluck it for its beauty

And even if that happens, if someone blows the wishes into the breeze

The dandelion would be content

in knowing their work is done

that it has succeeded

that their seeds will soar and find new places to grow and just be

There’s something poetic in that

That even if someone or something

snaps you, plucks you, blows you into

every direction of the unknown

You will be alright.

For in every unknown, there is change

and change can be good

Change is growth, wanted or not, but it is the only constant

So just be like that single dandelion

and don’t fight it

Be designed to let go

and be set free

A little poem I just made titled “I want more.” Hope someone can relate:

Time is a bus

I try my best to stand by its sign everyday but only by a hair do I catch it

Sometimes it feels like I’m missing it

There are days where I do miss it

Completely

I hate the desire to not just be on the bus, but be the bus driver

To have that aching desire

To want more

And it being so out of reach for me

I want more and I’m scared of never getting there

I’m scared of the fog that prevents me from traveling to the same place others do

I’m scared of the fog that keeps me from visiting places and events that I constantly miss out on

I’m scared of being left behind and alone. All because of the fog. All because of me.

I know comparison is the thief of joy but Lord I feel so behind. I feel like the bus is leaving without me, that all the people I love are on it, telling me to run to catch up. Because the bus slows down for no one.

No matter how much we beg. And scream. And kick. I don’t hate myself, but sometimes I do. I hate the fog. The one that keeps me complacent and passive and imprisoned in the same place. Doesn’t the fog realize that the bus is moving at full speed? That by the time I catch up to it, so much road had already been used up in the finite track of life? Of my life.

Oh my life.

I want more.

I want so much more.

But I’m only stuck on the side of the road unless I stop. God says that even a stumble is a step. So even if I have to stumble my way through life, so be it. Maybe other people are just the same as me. Maybe they also think they miss the bus. I’m sure they do.

Just remember that life is day by day. Tomorrow is not promised. The bus might run out of track at any point in time. So instead of feeling hopeless, instead of stopping, I’m going to keep running.

Keep stumbling.

KEEP GOING.

Because I want more.

And one day.

One day.

In God’s grace and power,

I’ll look around and see that none of us miss the bus. It just happens. It just is.

We are alive.

And I’ll finally feel that way.

Arezzo, Italy.

Valentina POV

Slowly walking through the busy narrow pedestrian street of Corso Italia, I smile as my eyes take in all the stalls of the antique fair the locals set up once a month in their fair city. The tall buildings to either side of the street are a beautiful piece of medieval-like architecture, and the shops and cafes that inhabit them mesh well with the single row of white vendor tents that sit in the middle of the street. The road winds as far as the eye can see, and my ears are tuned to the smallest details of the conversations around me. Most converse in Italian, with the exception of some American tourists in English, as the locals and vendors negotiate the price of artwork, jewelry, and much more. I spot a clothing vendor stall that’s momentarily empty, run by a middle aged-woman with short brown hair and an easygoing smile, lulling me in.

I pretend to look interested in the various clothing goods displayed, but I’m not here to shop. I’m here for information. There was an interesting circulating rumor that I had heard the day before, and now as I clear my throat, I try my best to not get my hopes up should it be untrue. “Buongiorno. Ho sentito una voce su un avvistamento di fantasmi in città. Ne sai qualcosa a riguardo?” The woman’s sweet gaze turns into a concerned frown as I bring up the ghost sighting rumor in her city, and she lets my question linger in the air between us for a moment before answering back in Italian. “SÌ. L'ho visto con i miei occhi,” she speaks softly, shaking her head. I bite down a smile as she recounts seeing the ghost with her own two eyes and listen as she continues.

Apparently, the ghost has been seen once each night for the past five days on the roofs of the city, and each time it has supposedly stolen things from the locals. Mostly paintings, and two pieces of antique goods the woman claims to have gone missing from her friend’s popular antique shop. “How awful. What did the ghost look like?,” I ask in Italian, and the vendor’s eyes cloud in thought, pursing her lips together tightly as if not wanting to relive the memory. “Come la morte. Indossava un mantello nero e non potevo vedere il suo volto,” she says, crossing her arms in what’s probably an attempt to comfort herself. I mirror her own concern, thank her for the information, give my sympathies and go.

I walk past all the people in the bustling street and try not to be too giddy at the thought of a disappearing thief described as death itself, dressed in a black cloak. Turning into an empty alley, I close my eyes and feel the sense of reality shifting, a feeling I can only describe in the likeness of falling asleep; the moment when consciousness becomes blurred into unconsciousness.

My eyes flutter open and I’m in my room, a vacation rental in the heart of Florence miles away from the city of Arezzo. Reality shifts back to normal, and no matter how many times I do it, no matter how long it’s been or how second nature it is to me, teleporting has always left me breathless. As if I always hold my breath, waiting to see if my lifelong power will finally cease to exist. As if the universe will recognize its error in giving an average girl the ability to defy time and space, and would no sooner rip it away from me, rearranging the cosmos back to normal.

Normal. To me, it’s always felt normal. To be different. To be alone. I sigh, heading out onto my apartment rental’s small balcony, gazing down at all the commotion of the busy day with Italians and tourists walking and chatting as the fresh morning sun beats down on them. Maybe with this discovery, if it is what I hope it is, I can finally feel like them too. Connected.

***

The August day melts away into a sunset, coloring the Florence sky in pretty hues of orange and pink. I give myself a once-over in the floor length mirror in my rental’s bedroom, feeling both excited and nervous and silly all at once. The ghost was said to wear a black cloak, so I had taken the day to scavenge the city for something similar to buy in their shops. A lovely little dress shop had this outfit in their window, and it was perfect for what I needed; a floor length flowy black dress with long sleeves, and a cute square top neckline that I figured would be okay. My plan would involve risking being seen teleporting by people, more than usual anyways, so I needed something to cover most of my skin. Picking up the masquerade mask from my bed that I bought at a party store back home in America earlier in the day, I wrap and tie the black ribbons to the back of my head and take a step back to inspect the final look.

My thick wavy black hair spools past my shoulders and stops at my chest, and the square neckline reveals my very tan skin, sun-kissed from spending years mainly outdoors. The feathers on either side of my mask mixed with the all black attire makes me feel like a bird- a raven. Ready to fly. I poke out my feet from underneath the dress to inspect my black sneaks, and I chuckle at how out of place they look at my otherwise formal-wear. But they’re very much a need, as I don’t plan on falling off a roof and breaking my head open, which dumb heels would only do.

Taking a deep breath, I go over the plan again in my head. Dress conspicuously- somewhat of a check, will be better with night visibility-, teleport to Arezzo once night falls, get a good view of the town from a location above, and hopefully find the ghost. I feel like a spy in a movie, ready to catch the bad guy or whatever the heck this grim reaper character is in the act. I should lower my expectations. If this is all just a bunch of hooey, then at the very least I’ll explore Arezzo’s nightlife and have a good time. Just fly, Valentina.

The sunset came and went, and eventually the night rolled around, sleepily covering the world in deep purple and blues. I let reality shift around me, focusing on where I want to go, and open my eyes to a secluded spot around Arezzo’s Medici Fortress, a 16th century military architecture now used as a public park. The location is perfect, with its panorama of the city from above and its views of the moonlit terracotta tiled roofs. Under the protected shade and cover of the surrounding trees and nightfall, I become practically invisible in my black dress, a feeling I know well. With any luck tonight, I won’t stay in the shadows for long.

Time passes, a few hours spent taking in the relative quiet of the park and I close my tired eyes. It’s now 10 pm, and my vision is exhausted from scanning over the rooftops over and over again. There’s a bench close by, and I had sat on it after it was clear I’d be here for a while. The same storm of thoughts rolls through my head, growing louder as the full moon shines brighter against Arezzo’s twinkling lights in town. I should have asked the vendor what time she saw the ghost, but even if I had and she did tell, I would have come early anyways. I don’t want to miss my chance. What if I already did? What if I didn’t? What if the woman at the market was wrong or she saw something else, something-

I feel a sudden jolt in my stomach, and I jerk my eyes open. My eyes widen as far in the distance a figure is illuminated by the lights and windows of the town, its silhouette sharpened against the gorgeous round moon above. I jump to my feet, quickly shifting closer, making sure to put some distance between me and the figure. I adjust to my new surroundings, now on top of one of the terracotta roofs in the heart of town. My breath catches as my balance is thrown off from the angular tiles, and I quickly adjust to avoid slipping off. Thanks, tennis shoes. I knew I was right to wear you. Searching around me, I’m caught off guard again as the figure is now clearly visible some roofs away and no longer an indiscernible shape. In fact, the ghost is looking in my direction. Correction, the ghost is looking at me.

***

Arezzo, Italy

Ambrose POV

Pausing, I take a sharp inhale. There’s something…no, there’s someone here. I turn my head, trying to find the source of my alarm. There, some buildings away on top of Arezzo’s clocktower, is a girl. The moonlight behind me shines at her, and I can tell she’s a she by the long dress that flows around her in the breeze, and I raise my eyebrows high at the sight. What is she wearing on her face? Is that a mask? She startles, realizing I’m staring at her, and my heart jumps, not wanting to scare her away. I sensed her. I had felt her presence. I still feel her.

A mixture of emotions run through me, mainly confusion as I don’t understand how she got up there. She could have climbed, sure, but I didn’t see anyone in my perimeter check just moments ago. Unless… unless she… I clench my hands, determined. Making sure my full face mask is tight and shrugging my cloak closer to me, I don’t hesitate as I let the world around me fall. I’m closer to her now, letting the world sink back as it was, and I hear her loudly gasp as I gaze up. She’s still on top of the clocktower, and I teleported to the roof just below her. This is stupid. I shouldn’t be so close. And yet.

My chest clenches as she gapes down on me, the close proximity revealing her appearance in detail. Her wavy black hair cascades down to her chest, which reveals a neckline that shows off her tan skin and chest. Her black dress cinches her waist up high, and she has a mask with feathers on either side of her that ruffle in the breeze like a bird. A bird in all black. A raven. I can’t fully tell in the dark, but I think her eyes are brown. She’s beautiful. C’mon Romeo, think. Break the tension. I clear my throat, trying my best to sound collected and non-threatening. “Ciao. Hai bisogno di aiuto per scendere?” I assume she’s a local, and her face turns from shocked to confused, to understanding as I ask if she needs help getting down. She lets out a bewildered scoff, and I brace myself for her response. I just teleported right in front of her. People usually react one or two ways when I do that, more often than not on the very terrified side. My appearance isn’t helping matters either.

“You just… you just moved. You were there, now your-”

“Here?,” I interject. “You speak English. American, I presume?” With that accent she must be a tourist, but she did seem to understand my Italian. She sounds young, maybe around my age, and not scared at all. More like she’s amazed, which is definitely unexpected. “I won’t hurt you. Do you need help? That can be one nasty fall if you slip.” We both glance down at the ground, the empty hard cobblestone road gleaming up at us in the faint light of the town. The girl turns back to me, breaks out into a grin, and my heart bump bumps against my ribs. “I think I’ll manage,” she starts. “Stranger danger and all.”

I chuckle, running my hands through my hair. Taking a dramatic bow, I make eye contact with her again, hiding a similar smile underneath my mask. She’s definitely something different. “My apologies, mia signora. I’m-”

“The ghost,” she cuts me off this time. I stand up straight again, cocking my head to the side.

“Is that what the people of Arezzo call me?”

“Among other things. Thief. Death. Your mask and cloak don’t exactly scream nice guy. So which one is it?” She tucks her hair behind her ear, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Hmm. I’m very much alive, so not a ghost or death. As for the thief allegation… I cannot give a comment at this time.” Mystery girl laughs lightly, and the sound fills the night sky. I want to hear her laugh fully, make more of the pretty sound. “I’m uh, a friend.” She puts one hand on her hips, leaning to one side. I flinch, not wanting for her to fall.

“A friend, huh? A friend would tell me their name, but that seems out of the question for you. Why are you here? Are you actually stealing from these people?” Her amusement disappears, replaced with a frown. I bite my lip behind my mask and cross my arms in defense, my cloak opening to reveal the long sleeve shirt that’s grown too hot in the August’s night air. “What’s it to you, tesoro?,” I reply, happy to see her annoyance in calling her sweetheart. So she does understand Italian.

“Well, amore, besides from being messed up, Arezzo is known for its art and antiques. It is a part of their history. You're stealing a part of them.” Her voice is stern now, but it doesn’t affect me as much as her calling me amore does. I flex my fingers inside my black gloves, perplexed at the new emotion. The clock tower’s ticking grows louder as it marks another hour gone, and I start, glancing at the time. 11 pm. I should’ve been done by now. This distraction is over. “I’m sorry, raven, but it’s now time for me to fly. This was… fun,” I say honestly, dipping into a small bow.

I turn to leave, ready to make my escape. As soon as I do, I’m greeted by her again. I gasp. She just- “Oh tesoro, you’re not going anywhere,” she quips, not even a few feet away. In the blink of an eye, she closes the distance between us, and I feel the familiar sense of falling again, only this time, I didn’t cause it. The world comes back, and I stagger back a few paces in surprise, falling to the ground. “Ow.” I rub my behind, completely stunned as I take a look around me. I certainly didn’t intend to be here. A cascade of emotions and thoughts envelop me, and I feel my blood spike with adrenaline.

The raven girl is standing over me, her glorious grin returning. “Welcome to my home.” I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. All I can do is sit there dumbly, mind completely under her control.

****

Big Sur Cliffs, California (2 pm)

Valentina POV

The daylight of California’s afternoon sun isn’t enough to cut through the chillness coming from the Pacific ocean. The waves crash in the background against the steep cliffs, and I turn my head to observe them. We’re really high up, a good safe distance between the cliff’s edge and the fatal fall should we veer too close. Fatal fall for most, anyways. Turning my attention back down at the masked man, I can’t help but plaster on a satisfied grin. I was able to catch him off guard this time, and to see the bewildered look in his eyes is truly priceless. Though, I wish I could see his entire face. Maybe I should make that first move. I need him to trust me, even if I don’t fully trust him.

“If you’re going to stare at me like that, you might as well see all of me.” I slip off my mask, my nerves coming to the surface as I reveal the rest of my face, carrying the mask in my right hand. With my other, I fix my hair self-consciously, aware of how intently the ghost watches my every move. A beat passes before the ghost comes back to life, shaking his head as he attempts to sit upright properly. I offer my hand to help him up, and although he hesitates, his gloved hand takes my bare one, his cloak ruffling with the movement. In the clear daylight, I see his cloak, long sleeve shirt and pants are all a deep blue, but his full face mask is as black as the night we just left. “Well, are you going to say anything?,” I question, tilting my head up as his height is a good few inches above me.

“Uhm. You just teleported us.”

“Correct.”

“So… you’re like me.”

“Or you’re like me,” I retort. I can see his eyes crinkle in a hidden smile, and my fingers twitch at my sides, wanting to rip off that mask. “How about a formal introduction? My name is Valentina. It’s nice to meet you…?,” I trail off, switching my mask to my other hand before extending my right again for a handshake. He doesn’t hesitate this time as he takes my hand and shakes it slowly, probably still in shock of the fact that another person like him exists. As am I. This is a life changing discovery. He pulls his hand away and brings it to his face now, slowly tugging off his mask. “I’m Ambrose,” he says, revealing a face I can only describe as-

“Cute,” I blurt, immediately feeling heat on my neck and face despite the chill seabreeze air. Ugh, why did I say that out loud! I avert my gaze and only look back when I hear him chuckle, his eyes glinting in the sun. He has Asian accented features with pale skin and hooded eyes, and his thick eyebrows match his wavy black hair. My eyes trace his strong jawline and high cheekbones, then along the curves of his lips. He clears his throat, snapping my attention back to his eyes. “So, care to tell me what we’re doing here? Judging by the daylight, and you saying welcome to your home, I’m guessing we’re in America,” he says, his voice deep and with a hint of an accent. He turns his gaze towards the ocean, feeling the mist rolling off and closing his eyes for a second to enjoy it. “California, probably.”

I shake my head in disbelief, amazed at how detail oriented and clever he is. “We are. And I brought you here to talk. I just found out that someone else has the same ability as me, so I apologize if I’m not willing to let you go so easily.”

He places his face mask inside a hidden pocket on the inside of his cloak, then crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “You're keeping me hostage?”

“For the moment. Aren’t you curious too? You were definitely in shock when you fell on your ass earlier.”

He scoffs, looking away. “You-,” he starts, but loosens up. “Yeah, okay, you’re right. I definitely have questions.”

“You’re willing to answer mine as well?”

“Hmm.” He takes a second to think, thrumming his fingers against his arm. “How about we each take turns. If either one of us doesn’t answer, then that’s the end of this discussion. And we can leave at any time. Deal?”

I nod eagerly, shifting my weight to one side. “Deal. Though maybe we should sit down for this conversation. Know a good place?”

Ambrose is slow to answer, ruminating as he peels his black gloves off and tucks them inside his pants pocket. He extends his right hand to me while placing his other behind his back, bending into another small bow like before. “It depends. Are you hungry?”

****

Seoul, South Korea (6 am, a day ahead)

Valentina POV

The sunrise breaks open the sleepy sky like an egg yolk, commencing the start of a new day. All this zipping around the globe never gets old to me, but my body is starting to grow weary in protest. I’ve adjusted to the time in Florence, Italy, for my vacation, so while it’s barely the break of day here in Seoul, my eyes sweep low with sleepiness as my body thinks it’s closer to midnight.

The fluorescent lights in the 24/7 convenience store in Seoul both agitate and force me to stay awake, and I wonder if it’s another all-nighter for me this time. I take a sip of my strawberry flavored drink and glance to my right at Ambrose, who has finally finished making his cup ramen. His glee reminds me of a kid as he sits next to me, enthusiastically swirling the noodles around his chopsticks and slurping them up with a satisfied noise.

“Teleportation always makes me hungry. Does that happen to you?”

“Mm, it depends,” I reply, chuckling. “More so when I do it numerous times in one day. I try to avoid that, since I try to keep my body adjusted to one time zone at a time. It’s less hard on my sleep.” Ambrose nods in understanding, which is crazy to think about. He understands. “So, now that you have your food and asked your first question, it’s my turn.”

He frowns as he goes in for more noodles, expertly guiding the chopsticks and bringing them up to his lips. “That shouldn’t count, it was more a conversation than a question.” As soon as he finishes the sentence he stuffs his face again, unashamed of the slurping sound it makes.

I shake my head, amused. “Oh it definitely counted. Okay, here’s my first question; were you born here in South Korea? I feel like I’m seeing you in your element.”

“Yes, I was. And I’ll even let you know that I live here,” he says smiling, his lips tinged with the red ramen sauce. “You know, for the most part.” I did know. I understand. I swish my cup around, hearing the clinks of ice sloshing with the movement.

“Okay, so what-”

“Ah, ah,” Ambrose cuts me off, wagging a finger. “It’s my turn again.” I roll my eyes but nod, letting him proceed. We ask simple, easy questions for a while, and I commit to memorizing everything I learn about him. He’s a year older than me at 25 years old, he’s known about his abilities at an early age (same as me), he’s multilingual (I knew more languages than he did), and when he transports he feels like he’s falling.

“Really? I’ve always described it as going to sleep. That feeling when you become unconscious.”

“I could see that,” he answers, getting up from the thin table set up on one side of the store to throw away his now empty ramen cup. There was only one other customer at this time of day, and they were sitting on the other end, not paying us any attention. With my dress and his long cloak, our outfits seemed too out of place for a simple store like this, especially early in the morning when most people haven’t woken up yet. Ambrose returns, settling down next to me again. “Okay, my turn. This might sound weird but… do… can you sense me?”

I still, my mind going back to Italy when I first felt a change in the air. I had sensed him. I do sense him, even now. I didn’t know if I should have brought it up, but he must feel it too. What exactly is it, and what does it mean? “Actually, I-I think I can. When we were in Italy, I felt this feeling like… how do I describe it… almost like we were-,” I pause, suddenly a little sheepish at my final word. “Connected.”

Ambrose’s face creases in seriousness, his eyes staring intently into mine for a beat of silence before parting his lips. “And you feel that way now, right?”

“Right.”

He loosens his expression, the start of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I do too.”

It’s my turn to frown as a new thought forms. I wonder if… “Hey, I want to try something. Just so I know, you can only teleport to places but not to people, right?” His eyebrows raise in surprise as he quickly understands what I’m getting at. I collect my mask resting on the table in front of me and get up and throw away my empty drink, then try not to think too much as I grab Ambrose’s hand in mine. Leading him out of the store, I try my best to keep cool. Connected, huh. Let’s test that.

********

Seoul, South Korea (6:35 am)

Ambrose POV

In the empty alleyway of the convenience store, we make sure to scout our surroundings to make sure there aren’t any people or cameras around. “Okay,” Valentina speaks, loud enough for only us to hear, her eyes turning back to mine. “Let’s start small. I’ll go a short distance somewhere safe around the neighborhood, and I’ll wait a minute for you to find me. If I don’t see you after a minute, I’m coming back to this alley.” She purses her lips into a thin line, and I can tell she’s uncertain about this. There’s a chance I could bail, and if our theory is incorrect, she’d never find me again. But at this moment, I realize that’s not something I currently want. I still want to talk to her.

“Don’t worry, I won’t try to leave. You have my word,” I smile, chuckling as she gives an unconvinced ‘mhm’. She nods anyway, even if it’s a little hesitant, before closing her eyes and vanishing out of thin air. Huh. Still not used to not being the only one who could do that. Okay, let’s focus. I close my own eyes, trying to focus on the feeling I had this entire time when I was with Valentina. The connection, a feeling close to a thrum of a current, almost electric like, is still there. It’s a strange new feeling, and it intensifies as I focus all my attention on it. I let out a breath and teleport, opening my eyes again and staring down into a pair of beautiful hazel eyes. But I’m so close, too close, and we both instinctively and immediately take a step back from each other.

Her expression is bright, and she breaks out into an unexpected grin. “It worked,” she whispers, the volume of her voice not matching her energy level. I can’t help but mirror her smile, amazed by my newfound ability. I can find people. Or, at least, just her. I cross my arms, suddenly aware of what this means. “If I can find you, I’m sure you can do the same to me.” Her eyes falter a little, and she absently messes with a strand of hair.

“Maybe,” she starts, scanning our surroundings. “Let’s test it again, but now you go. Further this time. Try the outskirts of the city, and if I don’t come in a minute, meet me back at the convenience store’s alleyway again.” I nod, quickly shutting my eyes and getting lost in the sensation of falling. Or maybe not falling. Maybe sleeping. My eyes open, and I do my natural location scouting, always second nature to me. I’m in the middle of a grassy field, alone without a soul in sight for a short moment before out of thin air, a girl materializes in front of me. Too close again. Her gaze slowly travels from my still crossed arms over my chest up to my neck, my chin, and finally my own surprised eyes. I feel a shiver run down my spine. There’s only a small space of distance between us, our bodies almost touching and I immediately uncross my arms, trying to widen the gap.

But this time, I don’t try to take a step back. Neither does she. Her expression turns from glee into something I don’t know her well enough to understand. Concern? Whatever it is, I find myself tracing the lines over her face, trying my best to etch the close up details of her features into my brain. Her smooth skin, the shape of her nose, the form of her jaw and the curves of her soft looking…. I peer up from her lips and into her hazel eyes, the concern or whatever emotion it was not there anymore. The only thing that’s there is this strange bond, the connection, the current. Some tethered string between us.

The silence is broken as I dare to say something, my heart beginning to thump faster until I’m sure she can hear the embarrassing beating. “What… what does this mean?” Her face softens, and she searches my eyes for something.

Her voice is sure as she speaks, the words thrown into the breeze that blows through the grassy field. “That we’re not alone.”

****

Outskirts of Seoul, South Korea

Valentina POV

I step back a few paces, breaking the moment and creating a safe distance between me and Ambrose. The ghost. The thief. Allegedly la morte stessa; death itself.

“Pero mejor sola que mal acompañada.” He frowns at my words, but I know he understands my Spanish, being one of the many languages he speaks. It’s a popular phrase in my Mexican culture, about how it’s better to be alone than to be with bad company. I’ve only known Ambrose for less than a day, and even though he was everything I had hoped for in Italy, he’s also not what I expected at all. I still have unanswered questions. Very important ones. He tilts his head to the side, and a smirk snakes along his lips. “Mal acompañada? And here I thought we were getting along,” he breathes.

“We didn’t get to finish our earlier conversation. I just have one question left that truly matters anyway.”

He shifts his weight, peering down at me. “It is your turn. Ask away.”

“Are you using your power to steal?”

Gone is his smirk as he takes his time to respond, probably deciding how much to tell me if anything at all. “Yes,” he says simply, his voice low even though we’re the only souls here in the deserted field. “But I have my reasons.”

“Way to be vague. Care to share them?”

“Can’t. I hardly know you.”

“Mm, true. And I you. But I’d never abuse my ability in that way, so that says a lot about who you are. Hence the mal acompañada.”

He quirks up an eyebrow, his expression posing a challenge. “If you feel that way, that what I’m doing is wrong, are you planning on stopping me?” It’s my turn to take my time to answer. I mill over that idea, and in all the river of possibilities that I see, I make a conclusion. “I could kick your butt, but stopping you would be admittedly difficult. We have the same abilities, and we know where or how to find each other.”

“Hmm. Not even trying to stop me says a lot about who you are,” he teases, throwing back what I said to my face. The breeze has picked up now, and I feel my dress ruffle along with it, the fabric on my arms fluttering against my skin. I tuck flyaway strands of hair behind my ear, and feel the warmth of the sun smiling down on us through pretty white clouds, the morning promising to be a lovely one. I’m not going to waste my day, or at least my night, being angry. I suck in a breath, keeping my voice light. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t try. But I have a different idea in mind than wasting time fighting you and returning everything you’ve stolen from the people of Arezzo.” I don’t even want to think about how he’s also no doubt stolen from other people all over the world.

“I don’t know. I’d kind of like to see you try to fight me,” he laughs, as if the idea of me winning against him is impossible. Oh, I’ll give you something to laugh about. I slip the mask I’ve been holding at my side on again over my face, and take a quick sharp breath as I shift. In an instant, I close the distance between us and pull on his left arm while my right hand snakes around his waist. I position myself against his center of gravity, and throw him over my hip, his body landing on the ground with a heavy thud.

Ambrose lets out a surprised and pained yelp, and as I stand over his body, he takes a moment to slow his breathing before squinting up at me. “Okay. So, what’s your idea?,” he says, his expression turning into something resembling awe. My stomach turns as I extend my hand, helping him up to his feet. He dusts off his coat and I instinctively pluck out a blade of grass from his hair.

“It’s simple. I just have to reform you. You know, stop the stream from the source.”

“That simple, huh?”

“You’ve seen the alternative. I’m sorry about that by the way, but you kind of deserved to be humbled,” I tease.

Ambrose smirks, shaking his head. “I kind of did, didn’t I? What was that by the way, karate?”

“Judo. The o-goshi throw, one of my favorite moves actually. But let’s trail back to my idea. I know I just met you, and I… I don’t know why we’re the same in this way, but I can show you a better way to use your powers.”

He scoffs. “I don’t think I’m interested in becoming some superhero.”

“That’s not what I am, nor what I’m suggesting. I’m only asking you to give me a chance to shift your perspective.” The idea churns in my mind, and I exhale, hoping this is the right decision. “Spend a week with me. If by the end I can’t convince you to stop abusing your abilities, then I… we can go our separate ways. I won’t try to stop you, and you’ll be free to roam around the earth uninterrupted as you were before.” My determination solidifies, and I try my best to show confidence in the challenge.

His gaze bores into mine, sizing up my words and evaluating his options. A week. A week of diverting from whatever his plans were, just one. Then no more distractions, no more me in the way, only freedom. After a long beat of silence something clicks for him, and Ambrose tilts his head up, peering down at me from his nose. “Seven days, and then you’re willing to leave me alone?”

“Ha. Here I thought we were getting along,” I smile, throwing his words against him this time. “But yes, you have my word.” I gather my dress and dip into a bow, mimicking him as he did in Italy. He’s already rubbed off on me, and as I look up at him, he bunches his lips together in slight amusement. Sighing, he sticks out his hand and as I shake it his grip is firm, squeezing tightly. “Deal,” he murmurs just loud enough for me to hear over the wind that grazes past us. Two deals in one day. I wonder if we’ll make any more.

His grip loosens, but his hand lingers in mine, and as we wordlessly stand facing each other, the feeling of electricity, of sensing him runs through me, more intense from his touch. My mind races, sorting through all that I’ve learned in less than a day. The ghost story was true, in a way, and I discovered the second biggest thing in my life of supernatural power, aside from my own. That there is someone like me, that I’m not the only person the universe seems to have granted their gift to.

That his name is Ambrose, and we don’t just share the same teleportation ability, but now we share some special bond. The kind where I can go to him, which is not something I’ve been able to do with a person before, just a place. But also that he might be some villain, or is one, and can use our connection to track me at any time, something that poses serious danger.

For my sake, I have to befriend him, to convince him to sway away from whatever reasons he has to steal, to be someone I won’t live in fear of being connected to. Not that he’s ever scared me. Only one thing has ever really scared me; the understanding that I would never be understood, to be destined for loneliness. And now I have a chance to change that destiny.

I didn’t realize how close I had moved to Ambrose, or what the words were that he had spoken. “I’m sorry, what?”

He smiles, one dimple appearing on his cheek as he speaks softly. “Goodbye, raven. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” He takes out the black face mask from his cloak's inside pocket and puts it on, his whole face covered again. His hand is still in mine as he raises the back of my hand to his mask’s plastic lips, pressing against it in a fake kiss.

Then he’s gone, leaving me alone to feel slightly dizzy in the field. I force myself to breathe deeply, placing my hand to my heart, feeling it beat loudly against my chest. For the first time in a while, I feel hope surge through me. It’s a new beginning. A new, maybe more-than a friend. A ghost no longer.

(Author's name: CCG)