When Bowie finally makes it back to the safety of his house, his friends are waiting at the bar, once again fully dressed. But the sparkly outfits they were wearing just three hours ago while haunting Orchid A Go Go – well, they no longer fit the current situation.

How quickly the mood can change.

„Hey, I’m back,“ Bowie says quietly.

His two friends promptly turn round. Concern is written all over Morgyn’s face, while Harley’s eyebrow tries to climb into her hairline when she sees the baby on Bowie’s arm.

„Yours?“ she asks.

„Yup!“

„But how?!“

„One night stand last year. The mother just bailed.“

Silence rules the next brief moment. Not because they are so surprised, oh no. Bowie can plainly see how they think different variations of ‘It was only a matter of time…’ and ‘Somehow you always land the strangest ones!’ and swallow them without saying anything. He has the best friends in the world. They probably will even babysit if he asks nicely enough.

And of course it’s Morgyn who immediately brings up the juicy details of the situation:

„Bowie, didn’t you have a vasectomy?“

„Yes. About three months ago. Do the math.“

„Huh,“ the Sage grins, „The operation came a little late, hm?“

Harley bites back a laugh, because in his own way Morgyn just volunteered to change nappies. Meanwhile Bowie has mischief written all over his face.

„Darling, Morgyn, Master of the Seventeen Spheres…“, purrs the gangly actor, „I’m afraid I must warn you: I’ve just called my mother.“

„Urgs. Then I’d better get out of here before she spontaneously develops a method of long-distance-transportalation,“ says Morgyn…

…at the exact moment the front door bangs open and perfectly cobbled block heels clatter across the parquet floor.

„You underestimate my capabilities once again, oh ‘Wise One’,“ a deep, commanding female voice says from the direction of the front door. Aria Legate, „reformed“ supervillain, top trainer of the S.I.M.S (it’s cheaper to pay her than to fight her) and Bowie’s mother, stalks into the living room.

„Aw, nooooo…“ grumbles the blonde.

„the warning came a bit late, hm?“, Bowie sniggers.

Aria pushes her suitcase into the corner and scrutinises those present. Her red eyes narrow as her gaze falls on Morgyn.

„Okay,“ she says after a moment, „I can understand Harley walking around at three in the morning all dolled up: She could stab a man in the street and the press would complain that he ran into their blonde angel’s knife – but she’d better not be caught without make-up. But you, Morgyn? Bare-chested?“

„Envious of my PR company?“ Harley interrupts innocently and it has absolutely nothing to do with the young actress trying to distract Aria from the Sage.

Aria laughs.

„But of course. What do you think I’d save in legal fees? But that’s nothing compared to the small miracle that our chronic popsicle here walks around belly-free. He felt too cold even in Sulani!“

Morgyn sighs.

„I’m wearing an enchanted woollen jumper, if you really must know. Make-up, outfit, hairstyle – all part of a tactile illusion permanently woven into the jumper. Can’t you see the magic structure by yourself?“

Aria just grins.

„Have you ever thought of putting several illusions on one object and controlling their effectiveness with a passphrase?’

Morgyn shakes his head.

„The stability of the spell matrix when subjected to such a complicated enchantment…“

„… Shouldn’t really be a problem for a mage as ambitious as you. You’re one of the best and brightest of this generation, Morgyn. You could build a jumper that changes illusion every time Simeon Silversweater blathers on about the ‘dignity of all magic’ – and then firmly claim that he doesn’t know what he’s seeing. I bet Faba would join in. As would any other mage who had the misfortune of having to listen to one of Simeon’s sermons.“

The Sage of Untamed magic falls silent and chews on his fingernail as he begins to plan new spell matrices.

„Alternative suggestion,“ Aria interrupts him impassively, „Store some clothes with my son. You really are here often enough.“

„As nice as catching up is,“ interrupts Bowie, „I actually called you here because of her.“

The actor lifts his daughter into Aria’s field of vision. Morgyn is immediately forgotten and the Villain turns her attention towards her surprise granddaughter.

Behind her back, Harley nudges Morgyn and whispers:

„Silversweater… Wasn’t that the guy who called me an overly-painted fishy floozy?“

„Yeah, that’s the one,“ Morgyn shudders as he thinks about that encounter, „I’m still sorry. I thought… Well, Sages are chosen for talent, not personality. Otherwise I would probably never have become one.“

„Listen: make Silversweater really doubt his dusty mind and I’ll persuade Dunkelstolzen to listen to you for at least fifteen minutes. And without drowning you afterwards.“

Astonished, Morgyn whispers back:

„Didn’t you say you didn’t want to meddle in the affairs of us Sparkle-Tossers?“

Harley snorts.

„That was before that ‘Sage’ had insulted me to the scales.“

Bowie grins. If his mother hears her trap snap shut (whatever she’s trying to achieve), she doesn’t let on. All her concentration is focussed on the little creature in her firstborn’s arms. He knows that she too has immediately recognised her own magical lineage in the child – but also that she ultimately doesn’t care at all. Magical status (or lack thereof) has never affected his mother’s happiness with new descendants; all grandchildren are welcome. And she steadfastly refuses to favour or neglect anyone from her clan. Even if one or two members would love to see far, far less of her.

‘What’s the little one’s name?’ Aria finally asks, enraptured.

„I thought of Clio,“ Bowie says, „Just like the muse of history and heroic song, in short: of fame and notoriety.“

„That suits you two,“ Aria nods contentedly, “But what do you mean by ‚you thought’?“

Bowie has to laugh.

„Because she’s mine now and I refuse to use her old name! Can you imagine what her mother called her? Anne-Mariechen Moonlight…“

Fffooom!!

„No, nonoNONO!“ Bowie shrieks as he sprays extinguishing foam onto the flames, „Not my stereo! Not that one! That was a present from my eldest brother!“

„Bowie,“ says Aria coldly as she skilfully keeps the curious baby away from the flames, „you’re a mage.“

„It’s about the principle, mother!“ he hisses and swings his wand. The burnt tatters of the stereo system quickly merge back into a functioning whole.

„Even with the best Repairo it’s never quite the same afterwards! This better not ruin the stereo’s sound!’

Bowie shakes the last sparks of free magic from his hands (discretion and restraint have never been his strong points) as Harley and Morgyn carefully poke their heads back into the living room. The actor doesn’t know who dragged whom out of the house and doesn’t want to know. They both have good reason to fear fire and Bowie likes his closest mates far too much to broach the subject without good reason.

Meanwhile, Aria stares enraptured at her tenth grandchild. No matter how many times it has happened… There is always something very special about the first time she gets to holding one of her many offspring in her arms.

„Hey there,“ she smiles, „Still on liquids, but with very firm opinions, eh?“

She cuddles Clio.

„Believe me, you’ll fit perfectly into this family.“

It’s never quiet in Del Sol Valley, not even here in the suburbs. Planes are constantly thundering low across the roofs, vehicles are rumbling down the motorway and things are banging and thumping somewhere. Dogs bark. Drunks howl. There’s always noise, even at 2:30 am. The residents have learned to live with it – eventually the plane noise doesn’t register anymore. And for the rest there are soundproofed windows.

But the own doorbell ringing up a storm… Yes, that wakes up even the most thick skinned Del Sol Valley resident.

„It’s not even 3am! Who rings doors Wednesdays at 2:30am?!“

Bowie B., a classical trained actor, a professional heartthrob and best known as Dr. Grant from the long running soap opera Residency of the Heart (nobody dies as pretty as he), swings his leg into his silk pyjamas and of the bed even before the tousled blonde next to him is fully awake.

„Somebody who wants to join our little celebration?“ the blonde mumbles from under the covers.

But Bowie shakes his head.

„I’m not inviting a fourth without asking you two well ahead of time! Wait here, I’ll take care of it.“

But as Bowie walks to the door, the attractive young man jumps out of the bed.

„Bowie, aren’t you afraid of your fans?“

„I’m not that famous, Morgyn.“

„I worry about your stalker, Fuzzhead. What if it’s him?“

The actor simply grins:

Inferniate.

„That’s not what I trained you for, Bowie. Be careful. Please.“

„Oh, I’m not going to do anything permament, I promise. But tell me that guy hasn’t deserved to be on fire for ten minutes or so.“

The Sage of Untamed Magic laughs quietly and shakes his head.

„I just don’t want anything to happen to you, you dolt.“

Said dolt throws an air kiss to the blonde and strides towards the door.

„Darling, it wouldn’t be the first time that this idiot flails screaming in front of my door. And the camera that can tape magic hasn’t been invented yet.“

Morgyn rolls his eyes and goes to search for his clothing, while his (very, very) good friend proceeds to the front door.

But before Bowie reaches his goal, he’s intercepted by a striking Blonde striding out of his bathroom.

„Bowie, who’s at the door?“ she asks with a rich, well trained voice.

„No idea, Beautiful. Feel free to jump back into the tub. I’ll take care of it.“

„Hm.“ She tilts her head, „Scream if it’s your ‚fan‘.“

„But Harley!“ Bowie slaps his hand on his heart, „but then every single mutt in this neighbourhood will come running! I can’t do that to the poor beasts!“

The Blonde glares at Bowie and lifts a perfectly plucked eyebrow. The gangly actor shrugs.

„The camera’s running, goldfish. Back into the tub with you. I’d like you to be at full strength should I really need you.“

The glare continues for a moment, then she nods and pulls the door closed.

Bowie may be of the opinion that his friends are a little bit overcautious lately, but they’re not completely wrong. (What if his mother finds out about his stalker? A mysterious murder in his periphery wouldn’t fit at all into his PR strategy.) That’s why he checks the camera before he opens the door. It shows woman outside – she feels familiar, too, although he can’t put a name to her pretty face at the moment. But she’s blond and athletic and thus exactly his type.

And she’s got a baby in her arm.

Crap.

So he proves that despite all the claims to the contrary in the tabloid press he’s not just a pretty face but also a gifted actor: He calmly walks out of the door and smiles at the not-quite-unknown lady with his best rascal charm – all while he racks his brain to remember her name – or how he knows her.

Ah, yes…

That producer’s party from a little more than a year ago. She was part of the catering team – and afterwards they took the party to something more private. All in all a great evening – at least in his opinion.

„Kelani, right?“ Bowie is now all heartthrob, „and here I thought you lost my phone number.“

„I did. Congratulations on your big premiere. It was quite the effort to find you; You change your address like other people change their underwear.“

The young actor nods amiably. Kelani wouldn’t be the first to spontaneously remember him after his first big film role. There’s no point in getting upset about it. She will tell him what she wants from him.

Instead, she simply hands him the child.

Bowie turns pale. It’s not the big blue eyes that tell him she’s his daughter. Nor is it the cosy, homely feeling of his own magical bloodline thrumming in her. No. It’s the ears. Bowie really can’t deny those.

„Oh.“

„Exactly,“ Kelani replies, “Oh’.’

The silence drags on for a moment, then the not-so-young man clears his throat.

„If it’s about money, I’ll pay,“ he says.

That would be a disaster for his image as a heartthrob, but that is slowly reaching its sell-by date anyway. Yes, he might’ve to switch to character actor a little earlier than planned, so what? Bowie has always been absolutely reliable in regard to his duties – one of the reasons why the producers are always happy to work with him, despite all his quirks and star affectations.

But the blonde laughs bitterly.

„If it was only about money, I wouldn’t be here!“

„I don’t know how, but the little one set my flat on fire. Then the office. My boss’s car. His husband’s car. Then two ambulances and a rubbish bin. It nearly took a block of flats with it.“

She sighs.

„And now I am wanted for aggravated arson.“

Kelani tickles her daughter under the chin.

„But never mind. Her name is Anne-Mariechen Moonlight Fairy and she doesn’t deserve to go into the foster system just because they want to jail her mama. So…“

I would’ve set everything on fire with that name too, Bowie thinks and almost misses Kelani waving to him and her daughter and promptly turning round.

„Good luck!“ she shouts…

…And bails.

And there Bowie is, with his strangely calm daughter in his arms. He has to breath deeply for a few minutes just so he doesn’t fall over. Well… That’s how quickly you can end up with a child.

Then a thought penetrates the shock:

Wow. The tabloids will be delighted.