On the threshold to her mother's house, Rebekah swatted at the dragonspies, four-winged magical creatures relaying a constant feed into the ether. Clearing as many of them as possible from around her, she pushed the door open, getting her armload of groceries in the door, and let the door slam behind her.
Her mother's disembodied voice -- recorded incantations -- murmured in the foyer, igniting a flash of St. Elmo's lightning, jolts tickling Rebekah's skin. Even though the tickling sensation died, the musty smell only got worse. The house needed a good airing.
"Rebekah, that you? You better not have let any of those bloody spies in my house."
"Mom." She placed the groceries on the floor so she could hang her shawl. "Dragonspies won't live through your door trap."
Mother emerged from her workroom, fists on her hips, a dusting of fairy dust giving her black locks a gray cast. She approached. Her eyes narrowed. Between thumb and forefinger she grabbed a dragonspy out of Rebekah's hair. The magic had fled from the creature leaving a dry corpse that turned to dust between her fingers.
"Yes, mother." Rebekah hefted the bag of groceries and rolled her eyes. "I'm too old to be running all your errands. You need to get out."
"I'm not letting those bloody spies know anything about me. Besides. Did you see what they captured about you. Come here." Mother led the way back to her workroom. A magepaper sprawled over the top of her worktable. The back of Rebekah's head showed in a full-page spread, her lips puckered as she leaned forward towards a boy. "Who is it that?"
"Mother, he's just a friend." She placed the groceries on a bench. "If you didn't subscribe to those rags, there'd be fewer of your hated dragonspies out there."