“Another great day of handing out treats! Well done, Hubert.”
“You too, Áine. You only have two left.”
“I saved one for me and one for Teta.”
Hubert smiles. “How is she, anyway?”
Áine closes the confection box and shoulders her backpack. “Her arthritis is flaring again. It’s getting really difficult for her to make the medicine. But she’s so stubborn that she keeps insisting that we don’t need to hire another employee or get an apprentice.”
“After living through the Egyptian Riots, anyone would be prideful.”
Áine sighs. “Prideful is one thing. This is just plain bullheadedness. We get plenty of applications but Teta is unwilling to even look at them. It’s not like she’s getting any younger, after all.”
Hubert throws his empty confection box away in the recycling bin. “By the way, those two girls you were talking to were really cute. Did you get their numbers by any chance?”
Áine raises an eyebrow then huffs. “Just imagine if your girlfriend somehow hears about how you’re asking for other girls’ numbers.” She feels a twinge of satisfaction at the horrified look Hubert has on his face. “This is what happens when a polyamorous person gets together with a monogamous person.”
Hubert purses his lips and wags a finger. “And this is why everyone avoids you at school.”
“Don’t need people to like me. I just need the grades to get back to Paris.”
The two part and Áine gets onto her train once the doors open. She sits back, watching as the tunnel whizzes past the windows. Those girls, though… Why did they seem so familiar?
“Jengu Station! Jengu Station!”
Áine disembarks from the train before cutting through some backstreets to get to her home. The store has a vintage look to it, with dark wood and the window emblazoned with a golden “Aja Apothecary”. She opens the door, the bell ringing, and the smell from the countless jars of different dried herbs and mixtures hits her nose.
“I’ll be right there!”
“It’s just me, Teta!”
Áine’s grandmother, an aged woman whose hair still hasn’t gone gray, steps out from the back and they embrace each other in greeting.
“Salaam aleikum.”
“Waaleikum us salam.”
“Did you have a good day at school?
Áine breaks away and smiles. “Yeah. We made cupcakes today. I brought one back for you.”
Asim frowns. “Oh, Teta. You know I need to cut down on sweets. What would my doctor say about it?”
“You mean if he found out that you’re secretly sneaking sweets when you think I’m asleep?” Áine has to keep from laughing at her grandmother’s expression. She might as well have caught her hand in the cookie jar. She takes out a strawberry cupcake from the box, leaving the vanilla, and offers it. “Take the cupcake, Teta. You can skip a day tomorrow.”
Asim humphs, but still takes the cupcake. “You’re just like your mother, you know that? I could never pull the wool over her eyes either. Now go upstairs. The incense has been smoking strangely recently and you’re better at interpreting those than I am.”
Áine giggles triumphantly as she walks up the stairs and sets her last cupcake in the fridge for later. She tosses the box, hangs up her backpack and takes off her shoes and socks. She then goes to the bathroom to wash her hands, face, then feet before entering their dedicated shrine room.
There’s already a modest offering of fruits and a loaf of honey bread. The resin on the shrine has long since gone out, but Áine can still faintly smell sandalwood. So she lights a charcoal disk, adds more resin, and sets the bowl in front of the winged-woman’s visage.
Áine breathes in, holds it, and breathes out. She takes off her gold-colored ankh belt buckle to rub it while she focuses her mind. While bowing piously, Áine empties her mind and focuses on the incense smoke.
Nothing changes for a while. The incense smoke is the same as before, so Áine begins to think that Teta was just being oversensitive in her stress. They really do need to get more help. Maybe if she just brings someone and vouches for them—
She gasps. The smoke changes from smooth to choppy. Áine spits on her finger and no, there’s no draft in the room. So she breathes in the scent and closes her eyes. There’s… something. A large, dark figure that Áine is sure she knows but can’t quite place. There are many others fighting. So much destruction. So much death.
Áine gags as the vision ends and rushes out of the room. She bends over the bathroom sink with the water running to dry heave until her roiling stomach settles and she can breathe again. Once it does, Áine splashes the cold water on her face and undos her braid.
*Knock Knock*
“Teta? Is everything okay?”
She doesn’t answer right away, instead toweling her face dry and thinking that mint tea would be good right about now. “I’m fine, Teta. I’ll be out in just a minute.”
Asim doesn’t say anything else, so Áine takes a breath and leaves the bathroom to see her grandmother pottering around the kitchen to start on dinner.
“Did something happen?”
Áine thinks as she brews the tea. Yeah, something happened. She should really tell her. Warn her that something terrible is going to happen and soon. All her visions have come true at some point so it’s only a matter of time. She was too late in saving someone once, and Áine doesn’t want to lose anyone again.
“No. Nothing much happened. I did meet two girls while giving out the cupcakes. They were really nice. One was a bit slow to react though, and the other had this strange look on her face when we shook hands.”
Asim gives Áine a look that says that she knows something but isn’t going to say anything. “That sounds nice. Go work on your quarterly assignment while I cook dinner.”
Áine doesn’t protest and goes to her room with her mug before sitting down on her bed. She doesn’t know why she hadn’t told Teta about the vision. About the gentle sensation she had felt when she had seen and conversed with Salacia. Or even about the burning in her soul as she shook hands with Elen, so intense that she might spontaneously combust. But something in her had told her not to say a word. To keep her mouth shut about it.
Just what is she missing? Áine has already lost so much already, but is she fated to lose more? How is she supposed to prevent it? Can she prevent it?
Once more, Áine thinks of Elen and Salacia. She wants to see them. Wants to tell them about it. When will she be able to see them again?
With a defeated sigh, Áine stands from the bed and takes her notebook out of her bag.
“Yes, this woman may very well be another of the Apostles,” says David in that same, far-off voice.
‘No shit, Sherlock.’ But Elen stops, takes a deep breath, then slowly releases it. She came to them this time so there’s no reason she should act like a bitch. “The cards haven’t stopped glowing since we met.” Elen takes out the two cards, one with a Brooch with a red gemstone and another of a red tetrahedron on the background of a raging inferno. “This didn’t happen until Sal was about to transform last time. Is this normal?”
Fredrick says, “This person will be the Fire Apostle. Fire is really the only element that can produce its own energy. Even your element, spirit, is moved around by the Gods and by fate.”
Elen breathes in again, and collapses into a chair with her head in her hands. She needs to calm down. Can’t get angry. Needs to keep herself in check.
Elen sees movement between her fingers, and she opens them enough to see Mystia crouching in front of her. “Are you alright?”
“I’ve just been under a lot of stress the past few days, and I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep because of everything.”
“Your body is probably just trying to adjust to your Magick awakening. I went through something similar when I awakened my own Magick.”
‘Growing pains,’ Elen thinks. ‘As if I didn’t have enough to deal with.’ She stands and asks, “When do you think would be the best time to tell Áine?”
“You said that Áine goes to the Hestia Cooking Institute?” Fredrick asks. “In that case, there’s the Quarterly Cooking Contest coming up next week. I can get you guys in there.”
Salacia’s ears perk up. “So, what? We show up, a monster attacks, Áine transforms and we kick ass like with me?”
“Lord and Lady above, I hope that doesn’t actually happen. I’m not too eager to get into another fight with those things.”
Fredrick laughs heartily. “Well don’t worry. What happens, happens.”
“You are much too optimistic. What is it? The folly of youth?” Elen asks.
“You could say that,” he replies. “Now, are the two of you staying for dinner?”
Elen and Salacia decline the invitation, and leave the apartment. Elen glances to Salacia, seeing her twisting and twirling a lock of her hair again before combing it. They enter the train station, scan their AIDCards, and sit on a bench to wait for their respective trains.
“I’ve only known you for a few days, but I know that you’re being too quiet. Is something wrong, Sal? I had half-expected you to bounce off the walls in excitement.”
Salacia stays silent for a few minutes, continuing to tug at her hair. “Do you think that, maybe, I can sense that others are Apostles too?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. Why do you ask?”
“When Áine was talking to me, my chest felt a little like when I first met you.”
“‘A little’? As in something different?”
“Yeah,” Salacia answers, flipping the lock of hair back over her shoulder. “It wasn’t quite the way when we met, but it’s very similar. With you, it was a burning feeling like all my instincts were telling me to fight with you. With Áine, it was more like I was swimming in the sea in summer.”
Elen leans back in her seat, looking at the ceiling and focusing on one of the flickering lightbulbs. “Well, for me, it was like a branding iron being stuck into my chest,” she tells her. “I don’t know what this difference in sensations mean, but I think it’s too early to tell if it’s good or bad.”
Salacia nods in agreement but can’t get it out of her head. “Do you think that maybe, this is also my body adjusting to the awakened Magick?”
With a shrug, Elen answers, “Anything could be possible. These few days have taught me that.” The train begins to pull into the station and she stands. “Let’s just take this one step at a time. We’ll figure this out eventually.”
Salacia leans back when Elen boards the train, fully taking in the scents of the grinding metal, stonework, and other smells she can’t quite place. ‘Áine smelled so sweet. But also like incense. I wonder if I’ll figure out what kind next time I see her.’
She closes her eyes until she hears her train pulls up, and she goes home.
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