“Pretty cool, huh?” Melody asked.
“It sure is,” Sam replied, waving back at Nila. “How far can this go?”
“My sister’s used that spell to travel all over the world,” Frederica said. “Tokyo, New York, Johannesburg, you name it. Magh, on the other hand, has crossed dimensions.”
“Dang,” Sam muttered. “I’d never stay in one place if I had that kind of power.”
Behind them, Nila and Magh stepped through the portal. Magh waved her wand and both sides of the portal vanished. Then the two of them joined the others on the sidewalk.
“I might have to call you next time I want to visit Mel,” Sam said to Magh. “This sure beats flying coach.”
With another wave of the wand, a phone floated out of Sam’s back pocket and into Magh’s hand. She added her name and number to the contact list and handed the phone back.
“Clearly I need to watch myself around you,” they said, chuckling as they pocketed the phone.
Magh smirked. Nila clapped her on the back.
“It’s always the quiet ones,” she said.
The five of them made their way around to the front of the Abbott Gallery. The beige stone façade led into a white-walled lobby lined with marble columns. They paid admission at the front desk and headed deeper into the building.
Frederica didn’t know much about art, but she recognized a few pieces by Fatima Brighton, a painter Angela helped years ago. Sam gave a running commentary as they moved through the building, explaining techniques and styles and historical details. Melody hung on every word.
Eventually they came to a collection of metalwork sculptures, mostly wrought iron twisted into various unusual shapes. It was all very abstract but Frederica found the pieces oddly compelling, almost like she could feel the emotion that went into making them.
“These ones are from a local artist,” Sam said. “Her name’s Bridget Gould. Mechanic by trade, started making crafts on the side before the owner of this gallery discovered her.”