When she wakes up again, Elen hears voices from the living room. She leaves the room, rubbing her eyes to get rid of the sleep, and sees Salacia, Áine, and Māra sitting on the couch or recliner.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
Elen nods to Māra in acknowledgment before sitting down on the couch next to Áine. “What are you guys doing here? And what time is it?”
“It’s 4:30,” Áine answers, holding out a mug of tea which Elen gratefully takes. “We’re here because Sal called a meeting.”
She pays no mind to very fact that she’s slept the entire day and sips at the Earl Grey with lemon. Elen hums in appreciation, instantly feeling more awake and alert. “So, what’s this meeting about?”
“The fifth Apostle,” Sal tells her. “I have a theory: each of us are named after goddesses. Elen is named after a religious figure, and her nickname is known as the goddess of the ways. I’m named after the Roman goddess of saltwater. ‘Áine’ is the Celtic goddess of midsummer, and ‘Māra’ is the Latvian goddess of the earth. Each of our names correspond with our elements. So, by that logic, the Apostle of air—“
“Should be named after a goddess associated with air.” Elen nods and sips more of her tea. “There are so many deities and personifications of air, so that’ll be difficult to narrow down.”
Salacia cackles. “There is one person who I think could be an Apostle.” Elen raises an eyebrow. “What if it’s Zephyr?”
“Zephyr Beeja Andreyev?” Māra questions. “Even if she is an Apostle, it would be nearly impossible to meet her. Security around her is intense.”
“But wouldn’t it be so cool? Fighting alongside a famous singer? And Elen! She may even help you with getting a record deal!”
“I don’t see the appeal of becoming famous like Zephyr. But, yes, it would be cool.”
“Let’s keep our minds open in case it’s not her.” Áine takes the now empty mug and takes it to the kitchen before Elen could even get up. “I’ll try doing some divination to see where they might be. Maybe David and I can put our heads together since we have similar powers.”
“Where’d those three go, anyway?”
“Mystia went to work on her dissertation and Rick is in the restaurant. David said he had something to do at his temple to prepare for Litha.”
Now with a clearer head, Elen sits back to think. She should really get to the hospital and get new medication. It’s been so long since she’d taken them that everything is expired. ‘That’s right. I still have the card from that doctor from when I’d collapsed. I’ll see if he can squeeze me in to get me new prescriptions. Now that I remember…’ Elen rises to the couch, going to her bag and taking out a folder before coming back. Good thing fantasy logic says that her bag transforms with her. “Māra. I found this last Saturday.”
Māra takes the folder and has to choke back her screams when she opens it up. “You found it! Oh, gods! You have no idea how much I’ve been freaking out trying to redo this! Thank you!”
“Don’t mention it. I have my own experiences with the Common Fatherland Party, so I figured this would be really important to you.”
There’s the feel of the handcuff again, but Elen stamps that down. She’s just happy to see how relieved Māra is.
“What prescriptions are you picking up?”
Elen looks down to her phone. “Lexapro, lamotrigine, and doxepin.”
“Got it.” A few clicks of the keyboard later, the pharmacist says, “These will be ready in about an hour. We’ll send you a text when they're ready.”
With a nod, Elen leaves the pharmacy and decides to take a walk around the campus. With midsummer coming, the temperature has continued to rise but is mitigated by a refreshing breeze. There’s the buzzing of bees, butterflies fluttering around the flowers, and the rushing of the fountain. Elen sits down on a bench under one of the many parasols to just take everything in.
It actually was a good idea to take an extra day off from school. If only to stop her brain from twisting into knots. She breathes in. Breathes out. Now that she can properly sort out her thoughts, Elen can think about what she still needs to do with her quarterly assignments. She’s satisfied with her vocals, but the acoustics need a little tweaking. Alex won’t be happy with her hovering over his shoulders, and Jessie will just be pouting and complaining, but Elen doesn’t care. This is the best track she’s recorded so far. There’s no way in Heaven or Earth that Mrs. Zhou won’t give her a spot in the Quarterly Concert. All she needs to do is turn it in and prepare for the live performance with Jackson.
She looks back to the courtyard and glances around. There’s nobody else here, and Elen is feeling a particular itch in her bones. So she leaves her purse at the bench and removes her sandals before standing in front of the fountain. Concrete isn’t the most comfortable of floorings, but she’ll take what she can get.
Elen takes a deep breath, and sings. She sings loud and strong, better than in the recording booth. Her feet stomp in time with the tune of the song, interspersed with jumps and spins that makes her skirt flare out. She even leaps up on the rim of the fountain and lifts a leg to kick out the water, causing the droplets to fly.
Fly…
She feels that again. How she might sprout wings and fly away. The place where her birthmarks are feel like they’re moving again; gentle and kind unlike when she battles the beasts. It’s the same blissful feeling she’d get when she was a child and would perform for her family’s animals in the fields. Then for Danny and his family after they’d moved in down the road, and when she’d first performed with her Auntie Flora. Glancing down, Elen sees that her Mark is glowing like a candle’s flame.
When she finishes the song, Elen pinches her skirt while bowing. She almost laughs, considering there isn’t anyone around to thank for listening. Performer’s habit, she supposes.
*Clap Clap Clap*
With a gasp, Elen straightens to see two people applauding her. Her face heats up in what is surely a deep red, but bows again in a much more subdued manner.
When Elen hops to the ground, she hears, “That was great!”
She clears her throat. “Thank you.” Now fully noticing who had stumbled in on her private show, Elen’s jaw nearly falls to the floor. “Aren’t you Zephyr Beeja Andreyev?!”
The girl laughs awkwardly, the gold coins in her tied-up black hair jingling. “Yeah. That’s me.”
Elen can hardly believe it. Áine had told her that she’s able to see the future, but she would believe it more if it was actually Salacia with how good her predictions are. “Ex-excuse me. I’m being rude. My name is Magdelene Grace Magnum. ‘Elen’ is fine.”
“No, no. We’re the ones who were rude. My cousin here heard you while we were taking a walk and insisted we go check it out.”
Elen looks to the girl in the wheelchair who has been completely silent. She doesn’t look too much like Zephyr, with ash-blonde hair in a similar style as Zephyr’s with a kerchief, with somewhat golden eyes and lighter skin. The girl smiles bashfully before introducing herself, “I’m Iris Harper Dombrowski.”
Elen would’ve offered her hand, but both Iris and Zephyr have their hands on their chests and she matches the gesture. “It’s a pleasure to meet the both of you.”
“The pleasure is ours. Hey, I’ve never heard of that song before. What language is that?”
Elen pulls a hair back behind her headband. “It’s just a language I made up as a child. The translation is a bit… tricky.” She notices Iris twisting her fingers in her lap and biting her lip, as if preventing herself from speaking.
Before Elen could speak up, Zephyr asks, “You’re really good at singing. Have you ever thought about becoming a professional?”
“Ah, well…” Elen has to take a step back from Zephyr’s almost rabid expression. It disturbs her nearly as much as Salacia’s star-struck appearance. “I’m enrolled at Terra Performing Arts and I’d like to be a professional, but I’m not really interested in becoming really famous. It looks like more trouble than it’s worth.”
Zephyr sighs. “It’s true. I can hardly step out of my own house without being mobbed. The only reason I don’t have anyone from my security detail is because nobody would dare ask for my autograph in a hospital. I suppose I should be thankful to Iris for being able to take a break.”
Her eyebrows nearly disappear in her hairline. ’What the hell?’ Elen looks at Iris. She’s lost whatever happiness was on her face and is now looking down with a hint of a tooth over her lip.
“Oh! Which reminds me. I need to make a call. Do you mind staying with Iris for a few minutes until I get back?”
Elen takes a split second to consider the request. ‘If nothing else, Iris can get a break.’ She smiles. “That’s no problem. We’ll just wait over there.”
With that agreement, Zephyr prances away as she hums one of her songs. Now alone, Elen’s shoulders slump and looks towards Iris who instantly appears more comfortable. Her hands aren’t fidgeting and she’s stopped chewing on her lip, at least.
“Do you need help getting to the bench?”
Iris opens her mouth, then closes it. She looks like she’s pondering something until Iris says, “I can navigate myself.” She does, and follows Elen to the bench where Elen’s purse is and parks her wheelchair under the parasol.
Neither of them feel the need to break the silence. It’s filled with the sound of nature that, in and of itself, is like a song. Elen closes her eyes to enjoy the breeze and the scent of the flowers. Summer is always the best for taking delight in this.
“I’m sorry about my cousin. She means well, but I know how she can be.”
Elen looks over to Iris. Her head is hanging again and her cheeks are flushed in embarrassment. A memory flashes in her mind of how her older sister would talk over her when she’s trying to have a conversation. Kathy would hardly let her get a word in edgewise, even on the rare occasions when she was talking to someone her own age.
With a smile, Elen tells her, “It’s okay. I understand.”
Iris gives her a small smile and Elen doesn’t need her magick to understand what it is. That’s the smile she herself would give when she’s trying to convince someone, usually herself, that everything was fine. That she doesn’t hurt or wants help and just wants to disappear into some dark, secluded space.
Elen’s hands ball into fists, knowing Iris doesn’t want help. Doesn’t want to burden anyone. It hurts, but it’s counterproductive to butt into someone’s business if they’re not receptive to the help. If she forces herself into the situation, Iris would just lash out and shut down.
“Um…” Elen is jolted out of her thoughts and focuses back to see Iris fiddling with the crochet shawl around her shoulders. “Those lyrics… do they mean—?”
“Sorry for the wait!” The bench nearly breaks from Zephyr dropping down on it. Elen shrinks back when Zephyr shoves her face so close to her own with a manic glint in her eyes that makes her feel as if she’ll be eaten alive. “Are you sure you don’t want to become a professional? I can introduce you to my manager. With your voice and stage presence, they’ll offer to represent you in a heartbeat!”
Elen curls up more tightly on the bench. “Really, that’s okay. No offense to your profession, but performing on such a huge stage with throngs of fans really doesn’t appeal to me.”
Zephyr pouts. “So you won’t go into the performing arts after high school? You’re gonna waste your talents!”
“I’d rather be a lounge singer. I used to attend my Auntie Flora’s shows at the pub in my hometown, and I’ve always wanted to perform like that.”
With a grumble, Zephyr leans back. Really, she’s never met someone that’s so like her sister before. “Then at least give me your phone number in case you change your mind.”
Elen wants to turn her down but can’t think of any reason, so she fishes for her phone from her purse and stops for a moment. The last two cards are glowing. ‘Sal is going to be so smug when she learns about this.’ Her emotions don’t betray her as she touches her phone to Zephyr’s and they ding when their numbers are registered. With a glance towards Iris, she sees how she’s fiddling with her shawl again. “Would you like to exchange numbers too?”
One would think that Iris had been given the best gift in the entire world, but she visibly tries to stamp it down. Nevertheless, she quickly takes out her phone to touch it to Elen’s.
After, Elen’s phone beeps with a message that her prescriptions are ready. “I gotta go now,” she says as she slips her shoes back on. She shoulders her purse and stands. “Let’s talk again soon.”
Iris nods and opens her mouth to say something, only for Zephyr to answer, “We’d love to! And don’t forget to call when you want to take my offer.”
Elen’s response to that is a strained smile. Before walking off, she waves at Iris who returns the gesture.
Halfway to the pharmacy, Elen pulls on her shirt collar to see her Mark still glowing. She breathes in, then out. ‘I can’t believe Zephyr is an Apostle. This is going to be a nightmare. Well, at least the others are going to be pleased. Until they actually meet her.’
Comments (0)
See all