Mabel has always had an interesting relationship with the truth. “We’ve always celebrated it on September fifth.”
A sigh. “It’s the day you picked for me, sweetheart. Just like I picked a day for you, remember? I’ve never had the heart to tell you differently.”
I close my eyes as memories land. The tired bureaucrat trying to fill out a form, annoyed that I was making his job harder. The fierce hurt of a small, angry boy who wanted just one normal thing. The brisk, invisible voice who told me that it didn’t matter what day I was really born, because smart superheroes should pick a different date to throw the bad guys off of their trail, anyhow.
It worked. I lived in some apathetic foster homes after that, but never any truly bad ones.
Warm fingers squeeze mine. Indigo, catching the gist of the story from Violet’s murmurs, even if she doesn’t know all of its layers. “I’ll do you up a really nice chart for your birthday, Mabs. I’ve got just enough time.”
It takes a moment—one that chases me out of memory and back to reality. I know just how bad an idea it would be to miss Mabel’s birthday. I did that once, caught deep in the throes of a painting. It took her a decade to forgive me. “Nuts. This is April.”
Violet chuckles. “You’re safe. You have a whole week to help Blue build a closet distillery.”
Mabel cackles, which delights the three women who have unerringly stepped in to steady us. It’s a foreign feeling—and a really good one. “I’m pretty sure I signed a lease that says I’m not allowed to make any big holes in the walls.”
Blue snorts. “Is that an insult or a dare?”
Blue steadies with brisk words, just like Mabel does. “Neither. It’s a mild-mannered request to keep Mabel away from your power tools. She was born before electricity was invented. She has interesting opinions on how it should work.”
Indigo grins and takes a sip of Hamish’s latest experiment, which is delicious and far safer than one of Mabel’s concoctions. “That fits for an Aries. They tend to do first and ask questions later. They’re fond of playing with fire.”
Or rescuing small, angry boys from the flames. “That’s Mabel.”
A satisfied swirl of air. “That’s why I like this movie, then. Lots of action. None of that kissing foolishness.”
Indigo drops a chaste kiss on my cheek. “Aries can be pretty fiery lovers, but it depends what’s going on in the rest of your chart.”
The intent look in her eyes matches the sound of the hunt in her voice. Astrology isn’t a quick horoscope in her world. It’s rich and complex and varied, just like a really good set of custom-mixed watercolors. I run the ends of her hair through my fingers. One day soon, I’ll paint all of the hints of color that live in its darkness. “How do you get oriented? What are the first things you look at on someone’s chart?”
She raises a surprised eyebrow.
Mabel leans in. “Talk, girl. You’ve got his attention now.”
She’s had it ever since she stood on a sidewalk flanked by the other two stripes of the purple rainbow. “An entire chart seems like a lot of information. How do you navigate your way into what’s important?”
Violet shoots me a fiercely approving look.
I’m not entirely sure what I’m getting right, but I’ll take it.
Indigo shrugs. “It’s a gut-feel thing, but that comes with experience. I generally start with sun and moon signs.”
She glances at me to make sure my eyes aren’t glazing over. I let her see the truth. This is a window into who she is. I hold up my cloth and glass cleaner. Let me see. Please.
A squeeze of my fingers. A window that’s willing to be cleaned. “I have a Sagittarius sun. That’s how I meet the world. She’s an explorer. She likes to move her feet, have new experiences.”
Something clicks. “She got the three of you here.”
A small smile. “Yeah.”
I nudge her ribs. “I bet she’s the one who drinks my beer, too.”
A bigger smile. “Yes. My moon sign, which is who we are in our innermost places, is Cancer. You’ll see more of her once I get into my apartment. She’s sulking right now. She doesn’t like not having a nest.”
I’m fascinated, a little against my will. I generally don’t play with things that I can never have. “So your chart is highly specific and personal.”
Back to the small smile. “Yes.”
Violet’s lips quirk. “Do me. He