Ares waited until the door was completely shut before he turned to rapidly scoop out the flakes that had been dumped into Snow’s aquarium. Her plump little figure floated upside down, sideways, and right side up in somersaults in her attempts to scramble and catch all the extra flakes the Detective had poured in. Ares had already fed her that evening because the Detective had forgotten the night before, but he had been premature. Worried that she would gorge herself to the point of swim bladder issues, he swiftly scooped the flakes out before she could eat anymore. His movements were so hurried he splashed water out of the tank and had to get a towel to clean up his mess.

He’d been counting the seconds after Alexandria and Docherty said they were leaving. Time had slowed in the minutes it had taken them to put on their coats. His initial panic at the amount of fish flakes layered on the water’s surface threatened to strangle him. Ares was relieved they had left in time for him to save Snow from her own gluttony.

Ares was humored by the look of hope Snow still seemed to carry as she cruised the bottom for escapees. He supposed he was anthropomorphizing her, but he could not help himself. Snow seemed to be the only animal in the world that liked him.

The little scuba diver swam past his line of vision, causing his eye to twitch. He wanted to reach into the aquarium and crush the abomination, but he was above that kind of action and knew it. Seeing the diver reminded him he needed to catch up to Alexandria.

Ares turned around, grabbed his coat, threw it on, and zipped out of the office after locking the door. When a vampire wanted to move fast, it was not so much the force of muscle that moved them, but something ethereal. Ares felt lighter when he tensed for action. The only time he felt heavy was when he had to focus on being slow to keep stride with a human or make sure he did not hurt them when he shook hands. When Ares was free to move as fast as he wanted, the feeling was exhilarating.

In less than a minute, he was down the stairs and out the door. He pictured himself as moving glass, see-through and unnoticeable, glamoring the humans around him.

Ares sped along the Danforth, following Alexandria’s smell easily. Her scent was so unique he could recall it hours later. She seemed to be moving fast, but he was gaining quickly. The smell of sea and lavender was becoming stronger and easier to make out through the plethora of city smells.

He was a tornado, a whirlwind, jumping onto street signs, flying in between pedestrians, and leaping over lanes of traffic, until he finally hopped onto a red overhang and looked down to find Alexandria dismounting a bicycle across the street.

She was wearing a skater’s helmet with stickers all over it from varying non-profit organizations, everything from animal rescues to environmental organizations and supporting local farms. Ares thought he spotted a Wile E. Coyote sticker and rolled his eyes.

Alexandria locked her bicycle to a bike rack and headed into a café. Her bike was an antique, but well-greased and with a new coat of paint. Ares wasn’t into sea foam green, but then, he was beyond thinking the two of them could relate.

He scanned the area for any fairy or otherkin that might take interest in him, but found only humans. Ares was not too concerned about getting into an altercation, but he preferred to remain undisturbed. Fairy folk would graciously ignore him, but his own kind would take an interest in him.

Ares pulled out his notebook and pen and took one last look around before he made his stakeout official.

It was a cold November night. The air was crisp, and flurries had played on and off throughout the evening. Seeing people bundled up with scarves and hats, Ares considered how lucky he was to be impervious to winter’s chill. The streets were relatively quiet for Toronto, but the coffee shop was busy with artists, poets, and university students.

Ares began taking notes. He had never heard of this café, Ek Chuah’s Coffee and Chocolate House. It was rather unique, decorated inside with colorful and artistic paintings of Mayan gods and goddesses. The store was run by a family, or at least a group of people who looked remarkably similar. They appeared periodically to wait on customers and man the counter before disappearing behind a dark green curtain.

Alexandria was seated on a comfortable hunter green couch sipping what looked like hot chocolate or mocha. (The shop had a sign that boasted the best hot chocolate in the city.) She was reading a large book, the title of which Ares could not quite make out. He eased his eyes into seeing closer, and the title of the book came into focus: Otherkin: An Artist’s View.

The small bells above the door of the café rang, indicating a new arrival. Alexandria looked up and said hello to the visitor. It was an older woman who took a moment to ask Alexandria how she was. Alexandria politely put her book down while they chatted. It was opened to a painting called Magic Circle by John William Waterhouse. Ares recognized the painting from an art gallery he had recently been to. He wasn’t sure he would refer to a witch or wizard as otherkin. There was much debate over the subject. When he thought of otherkin, he pictured his kind, weres, shifters, and the larger, more powerful, gryphons, and dragons.

Fairy were in a category all their own, due to their shared ancestry, which gave many of them the same characteristics and abilities. While fairy were sometimes referred to as otherkin by the layman, the two groups were unrelated, but could a witch be an otherkin? They were humans, but then again, he had been human once too.

Ares studied the painting carefully. In the center of the image, a cauldron boiled and ravens sat all around, while a young witch, wand in hand, drew a circle in the sand.

It suddenly hit him: Alexandria was a witch.

The circle of stones, the herbs—she had to be a witch, but what kind of witch? Was she one of those neo-pagans who worshipped the earth, or was she a sorceress? Did she summon demons, or did she summon rain?

Alexandria could see ghosts, an ability often associated with other gifts. She was not some nature nut, but someone with true power… no wonder she could see through the glamor at the airport.

Surely, Alexandria wasn’t a wizard; otherwise, she would not be enrolled in the university, she would be attending the Toronto Academy of Magick and Alchemy. Had she been lying?

The bells rang again and Ares looked up to see Alexandria jump from her seat with a surprised look on her face. She embraced a young male. Ares shot up, gripping his notebook to the point of permanently crumpling it. He realized he might be drawing attention to himself and sat down, peering around awkwardly before straightening out his notebook for more notations.

The young man wore what some referred to as a fauxhawk. In Ares’s opinion it merely stated a lack of creativity and was a sad attempt at giving the impression that he cared about his appearance. Ares could tell by a subtle hint of brown roots that his hair was dyed blonde. The young man wore typical beat-up looking jeans with a burgundy sweater, a long, red and yellow striped scarf, and a faded green shoulder bag. His custom-made skater shoes also caught Ares’s attention. He may not care about his hair, but he paid close attention to his footwear.

They laughed together and kissed each other on the cheek. Ares briefly considered throwing himself off the overhang but kept a firm grip on himself. The boy, whoever he was, went to the counter and ordered himself an espresso. While he did that, Alexandria placed her book back in her handmade, quilted bag and waited patiently, sipping her drink.

The next two hours were a form of psychological torture. Ares watched as Alexandria flirted with the flamboyant youth. He put his arm around her and picked a hair off her shirt as if it were something he did daily. They giggled and talked enthusiastically like the best of friends. Ares even began to wonder if the café had their liquor license as the two of them were gathering looks they were so loud. Not that it really mattered. The shop collected a remarkably diverse crowd, most of whom dressed as poorly as Alexandria. Some of them read books, sat with laptops, knitted in groups, or were in discussion groups. Apparently asylums were not the only place to keep the psychologically disturbed.

When the shop was finally closing, Ares blinked for the first time in hours. He had stopped writing entirely, devoting all of his attention to the interactions between Alexandria and her—he could hardly form the word in his mind, but—companion.

Alexandria ran up to the register one last time to pay her tab and collected a slab of fudge. She hit the young man in the head with her bag and gestured toward the door. They headed out, pausing to grab her bike, and began to walk down the street together.

Ares stood up and dusted off the piles of snow that had collected on him. He hadn’t even noticed. He felt dejected, wiping the remaining flakes away. Had he been human, he would have frozen to death, or fallen off the roof having sat there as long as he did. He was thinking about turning in for the night. He had planned on going back home to collect his notes and do a little bit of research on what occult Alexandria might be a part of, but he couldn’t shake the image of them walking together, arm in arm. Were they going home together?

He had to know.

When they boarded a bus together, Ares jumped over to the next overhang and picked up speed. He was soon following them—rooftop to overhang, sign to street light, and finally, in the shadows of Alexandria’s neighborhood. His heart began to sink as he realized they were heading toward her house.

The oversized child Alexandria seemed to be so fond of took her bike and carried it up the steps and onto the front porch for her. He paused to lock the bike to the railing before turning to talk to her again. They chatted on while she unlocked the door and went inside.

Before they completely shut the door, Ares saw the black dog from a couple nights ago. It was a black lab or a mix of some kind, and he could tell by the white dusting on her muzzle that she was an older dog. She didn’t bark; instead, she wagged eagerly to greet them. Alexandria dropped her stuff sloppily in the hallway and knelt down to hug the dog and fuss over her.

The young man took his bag off and hung it on some hooks in the hallway. He took his shoes off and placed them neatly along the wall. The hairs on Ares’s arms and around his neck began to rise as if statically charged, but before he could see anything else, the pompous young man closed the door.

Ares panicked. What was he going to do now? He was perched on the rooftop of a neighboring house, but he needed to get closer. He jumped down, flew across the street, and hopped over the fence. Ares paused, still as night, and listened.

He heard them inside the house and relaxed. They were somewhere in the middle of the house, near the back. He climbed onto the fence and into a maple tree in the neighbor’s yard. He positioned himself so he was facing a window, but he couldn’t see inside, because the curtains were closed. They looked to be hand sewn, but artfully so. They were a light blue fabric with small plastic beads hanging from them.

There was a shadow in front of the curtains; they burst open. It was Alexandria. She looked outside, and for a brief moment Ares thought she had spotted him. His eyes widened, and just as he was going to flee, she turned away and went to sit on the couch in the living room. Ares shook his head. He thought for sure she had seen him.

Someone else had seen him, though. Ares watched as the dog stalked like the predator she was to the window. She stared into him with such intensity he was convinced she would break the glass. The black dog sat down in front of the window, like a shadow in his thoughts. Ares looked away, ashamed of himself. He started to consider what he was doing out there, spying on Alexandria in the middle of the night, but then he heard her call out, and he turned back to the window. He looked past the dog and into the living room.

“Hey, Derek! Have you seen the remote?”

Derek. He crushed the name mentally, silently choking it. Derek responded from somewhere else in the house, but Alexandria found the remote stuffed between the blue cushions of a large couch. Ares wished he were a little closer. He could make out their dialogue through the walls easily enough, but he didn’t want to lose his vantage point. For some reason, a visual link was more important to him than a verbal one.

Derek walked into the living room carrying a glass of water and handed it to Alexandria. She smiled and said something to him. Derek laughed and kissed her on the cheek. Ares was gripping the branch of the tree so tightly he heard cracking and had to stop. Much to Ares’s relief, Derek seemed to be saying goodnight and left the room.

A light came on in an upstairs bedroom, and music began to play. The tunes were mostly likely a form of indie rock, or something else to make Derek feel special. They carried slowly from the bedroom and into the night air.

Did they share a bedroom? Was he a roommate or a lover? What was going on here? Could he be a brother or other relative? They kissed a lot, but not on the lips. Ares found the whole situation perplexing and rather nauseating.

However, he realized that he wouldn’t get any answers that night. Alexandria pulled a blanket over herself and lay down. She snuggled closer into the blanket, and Ares could see that it had a rather detailed print of a polar bear and her cub on it. Her eyes began to close softly as the night beckoned for her to sleep

For a time, she seemed to fight sleep, opening her eyelids again and again, staring in the direction of the TV. Ares thought it odd she was sleeping on the couch and wondered why she did not go up to bed, her own, or perhaps to the bed she shared with Derek.

She was normally so cheerful. Alexandria and Derek had spent the last few hours laughing together, and now she was so subdued. Ares leaned his head against a branch. He wondered if she was sad or if something was troubling her. To these questions, too, he would not receive any answers. He remained in the maple tree for the remainder of the night, but two hours before dawn he headed home. Before he hopped out of the tree, Ares turned and nodded to the black dog that was still sitting by the window. Ares was impressed with her dedication to the protection of her home. He wondered what she was thinking, but he couldn’t begin to speculate what happened in a dog’s mind.

Ares decided to run home. He could have called Yusuf, just for the pleasure of getting him out of bed at this hour, but he wanted to be on his own. There was a lot he needed to think about. 

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