by Heloise Hull
She had her blonde hair in a high ponytail, which bounced as she shimmied to music blasting through her AirPods. The familiar movement unleashed a wave of memories of our time together.
She’d been fresh out of college when Jim hired her for me. We’d been arguing about me going back to school. Jim didn’t want the financial responsibility. He thought I should focus on helping him grow the company, and I didn’t need a degree to do that. To convince me, he’d brought home flowers, my favorite Thai take-out, and her resumé.
That was the last time we’d slept together. I still remembered cleaning up in the bathroom and staring at myself in the mirror. Well. That’s it, old girl. That’s life. Be happy. When my inner voice rebelled, I bluntly put her down. Did you ever think you’d live in a house with a three-car garage in the suburbs? Or have your own assistant? No! So get over yourself and get happy.
Thank God he slept with her.
“Hey, Marla,” I said jovially, wincing at the false note.
She popped out an ear bud, a guilty look on her face. “Did you want coffee? I can’t remember how you take it.”
With the strength of a Titaness, I prevented my eyes from doing a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree tour of their orbits. “Black, thanks. Like always.”
“Yeah, I guess I wasn’t very good at getting your order right.”
“No, you weren’t.”
Marla set the machine to brew, and we stared at each other. Don’t quote me, but I believe a meeting between North Korean and South Korean diplomats would have been less awkward. I grabbed a mug from the cupboard just to have something to do. It said, World’s Best Dad.
Hmmm. I didn’t recall buying that for Jim. I certainly didn’t truck with lying to make people feel good about themselves.
Marla beamed. “I got that for Jim. Isn’t it cute? It has pictures of the boys on the other side.”
I turned it over. Josh and Jacob were in their little league t-ball uniforms with dirt smudged over their entire faces and orange wedge smiles. I looked up at her, my eyebrows knitting together. “I took that picture.”
Marla nodded happily, pouring coffee into the mug for me. “It’s adorable. They’re very serious.”
“Jim wasn’t even at that game.”
Marla frowned. “Oh, he didn’t mention that.”
No surprise there.
“How did you find these pictures?” I asked, swallowing my distaste that she was only six years older than the boys. She could have dated one of them, and I might have given my blessing. Okay, maybe not my blessing, but definitely not a lamp to the face.
Marla reddened and turned around to the coffee machine to fiddle with buttons. “I might have gone through some old things, but I promise it was only to organize and to find a present for Jim.” She held up her hands in a roll-over-and-show-your-belly gesture, and I realized something in that moment.
“Marla, are you scared of me?”
“Scared?”
“Yes. Do I make you nervous?”
“You’re my boss.”
“Ex-boss.”
Marla gaped at me, but no words came out. So, that was definitely a yes.
“Well, if you’re going to be terrified of me, I might as well use it to my advantage.”
Marla laughed nervously. “You’re not supposed to tell me that!”
“I know, but I don’t really want you to be scared of me. I just need your help. I can’t seem to leave the house and I need some things. Could you get them for me?”
Marla nodded eagerly, once again happy to have something she knew how to do. She pulled out her phone to take notes.
I rattled off a list of personal items I needed and threw in some snacks I missed for good measure. “The puff kind of Cheetos. Okay? Big puffy ones. Get the family size bag.”
“You got it, boss.”
“Ex-boss.”
“Right. How was your vacation, by the way?”
Since finding Aradia ended up changing my life for the better and I had Marla to thank, I resisted saying something obnoxiously rude. Instead, I said, “Mostly relaxing. I met nice locals, drank wine, stayed up late. That sort of thing.”
Marla waggled her eyebrows like we were old friends. “Stayed up late drinking wine? That sounds like a date. Did you kiss anyone?”
I shuddered. This was beyond strange. Thus was my life, though. Strange didn’t even begin to cover it. A sly smile curled in the corner of my mouth. Whatever I said to Marla surely had to make its way back to Jim eventually.
Marla saw it, too. “Ooo, I knew it. You did! You totally kissed someone!”
Jim stomped down the stairs, his hair sticking up in the back and a scowl already attached to his face like a leech. “You’re still here.”
I smiled sweetly and handed him the World’s Greatest Dad mug. There were a lot of crappy things about this situation, but I had to admit, making Jim agonize about whether I’d kissed a man was a nice silver lining. If only it had been Aurick I’d kissed instead of a necromancing piece of work like Luca, but I didn’t feel the need to include that little detail.
Marla tilted her head. “You look different. Your hair… or maybe the tan?”
I had gotten a toasty brown, even in the October sun, from spending so much time outside, and thanks to my wolf-genes, my hair was lustrously out of control. I fluffed it a bit. “Oh this? Probably the Mediterranean diet.”
Marla nodded in awe. “You’re so lucky.”
Jim banged down his greatest mug. “Lucky? So getting away from me is lucky?”
“Oh come on, Jim. The least you can do is be happy for me.”
He turned on me, his mouth a straight line. “I’ll be very happy when you’re gone, which is when, exactly?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Well, work faster.”
“Marla doesn’t mind me here. In fact, we’re getting quite chummy. Isn’t that right, Marla?”
“Me?” she squeaked.
Jim knew better than to wait around for an answer. He stomped upstairs, muttering something about two against one. As much fun as it was to annoy him by my very presence, he was right about one thing. I needed to get the hell out of dodge.
Here, I was a goldfish in a pretty bowl, banging my head against the glass. There had to be some way out, even if it meant convincing someone to flip over my bowl. But how?
As I watched Marla stir pumpkin spice creamer into her mug, a sudden thought struck me. She’d arranged my plane tickets and ferry to Aradia. Could she do it again? Did she still have a strong enough connection to get a call through to the squad for me?
If nothing else, I wanted my friends to know I was fine. But if they could also consider forming a badass escape plan worthy of the movies, that would be great, too.
“Hey, Marla, how did you find that Italian island?”
Marla’s eyes crossed for a second, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Island?”
I watched her closely. “Yes. When you booked the tickets for my vacation, how did you do it?”
“I… just searched for Italian island vacations on Google, and it was the first, second and third choice. I figured it must be good.”
“Interesting. Could you do it again?”
“Probably?”
I pressed her phone into her hand. “Why don’t you try?”
My heart pounded in anticipation as she fiddled with the phone. Her fingers began to skim across the screen, moving faster and faster. “Here’s something, I—” She yelped and dropped her phone. It clattered on to the counter, and she stared at it like it had bitten her. “That was weird.”
“What happened?”
“I had it, but then my phone died. And it kind of gave me a weird electrical shock.”
“Of course it did,” I muttered.
With an apologetic look, Marla slipped the phone into her purse. “I better get going. The office has been in a bit of a disarray since you left.” Marla clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oops. Jim told me not to say that.”
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I tried my best not to smile. “Don’t worry about me. I won’t tell. Oh, and Marla?” She turned around. “Thanks for trying.”
As the saying went, you catch more flies with honey. Hello fly, Marla dear.
Chapter Five
As I wandered around my old home, I felt a pervading sense of disconnect. It was eerie. A serial killer’s freezer had more life than this place. In only three weeks, I’d completely reinvented myself into someone who didn’t find the quiet of the suburbs comforting anymore. Dozens of houses, cars, and people lived in the same proximity, but unlike Italy, the streets were empty, as if they were merely a place to pass through, not to congregate.
To combat the quiet, I found my old headphones and popped in some grunge rock. Nothing like listening to Kurt Cobain to transport me to someone else’s misery. It seemed unfathomable to think I’d stood in this living room only a few weeks ago while my world crumbled.
Or that I was already back.
For the rest of the morning and into the early afternoon, I shuffled through the house as if in a trance. I tried dozing and rifling through the pantry, which was now filled with protein bars and soy substitutes. I shuddered at the thought, but then grinned when I realized Jim had to eat it and pretend to like it. He probably still didn’t know how to cook.
I flipped through television channels without seeing them. Cooking competitions, soap operas, and daytime talk show hosts with too-large smiles and too-high voices dominated my day. My brain felt like it was atrophying out of sheer boredom. What I wouldn’t take for a little action around here. I’d even take Piero, my Renaissance Romancer.
A rumbling shook the house. Not again! I did not need another mystical earthquake, and I certainly didn’t need the Big One. I ran to the window, which yes, I know was the exact opposite of what you’re supposed to do, but I needed to see if the whole street was experiencing it or not.
The moment I touched the window sill, the rumbling stopped and my front door swung open. Manu stood at the threshold, his leather duster sweeping the ground. The runes on his head glowed slightly, probably in preparation for a fight. With a flick of his wrist, he sliced at the invisible barrier with some sort of bone dagger and walked inside my suburban St. Louis home. The Gordian Knot flickered blue, and I automatically winced, recalling its bite.
Manu beckoned me forward. “Come on, godling. Time for judgement.”
“What? You said two weeks!”
“Things changed.”
“Is that good or bad?”
Manu took me by the arm and led me out the door. “That depends on one’s point of view.”
“Mine, Manu. I’m talking about my point of view.”
“In that case, I’d say not good.”
Chapter Six
I didn’t want to point out the obvious—oh who was I kidding? Of course, I did. “Manu, why are we taking the Metro if I’m some big bad goddess? Shouldn’t you be more fearful of my ability to slip into the crowd and disappear?”
Instead of answering, Manu jerked me onto the platform.
So he was the strong and silent type. That was fine. I could do silence. He didn’t tie my hands when we left the house, but he had used the Gordian Knot as a threat. I considered something reckless, but it was midday with no moon in sight. That left my mother magic, which was as unpredictable as funneling god magic. I made dough rise with Rosemary and wheat tangle with Aurick. It occurred to me that, perhaps, I couldn’t do anything offensive with it—only strengthen the magic of others. Without a safe place to practice, I might never know the full extent of my abilities.
The train bore down the tracks, screeching to a stop at the platform. Manu subtly put his hand on the small of my back and guided me inside. I cringed at the intimate touch, but as soon as the doors slid shut, he removed his hand and found a seat, gesturing to the one next to him.
The Metro clicked east. We were headed downtown. “Fancy a red October?” I asked.
Manu spared me a raised eyebrow.
“The Cardinals… they’re in the playoffs, oh never mind. Where are we going? You can’t get to Cahokia on the Metro.”
Manu spread his knees and leaned back, hands behind his head like he couldn’t be bothered to worry about me escaping. I narrowed my eyes. The manspreading jerk.
I glanced around the interior of the car. Besides one sleeping guy, we were alone. I rolled my shoulders and cracked my neck. No time like the present to practice. Letting my leg relax enough to touch Manu’s ridiculously rude knee, I closed my eyes and pushed. Feelings of anger, feelings of grit. They all went his way.
Manu grunted and jerked back as if I’d burned him. “Don’t touch me with your magic, godling. You won’t like the consequences.”
“Don’t take up all the space,” I countered, gesturing to his legs. Giddy laughter swelled in my chest. There! Something offensive. I had no idea what it was, but it was a start.
Manu swept his duster over his knee and scooted down one seat. He crossed his arms and leaned back again.
For the next forty-five minutes, we sat in silence, watching the suburban turn urban. The Arch loomed in the distance. Spotlights soared beneath it, lighting up the two ends. Jim and I used to take the boys there on the Fourth of July for the annual Fair St. Louis. There was an air show, concerts, and fireworks. We’d pack a picnic, find a tree, and sit under the shade. Sticky from the humidity, I always felt like I was wearing a fur coat, but the boys would drink Capri Suns, eat watermelon, and spit seeds at each other while we waited for night to fall.
I cherished those memories as my heart beat a tattoo against my ribcage. I really had no idea what waited for me at the Council. Would they lock me up in a real dungeon and throw away the key? I may have asked for that yesterday, but I didn’t mean it. Annoying Jim and Marla forever had to be more fun than fighting rats for scraps of food.
We exited the train at the Arch, and for a second, I thought we might go inside, but Manu pushed me away from the subterranean entrances. “So, the Arch isn’t a secret supernatural headquarters?” I asked.
Manu ignored me and guided me to the base of the huge monument. The silver structure shone against the blue sky, and I could see the tiny viewing windows at the top. I hadn’t been up the Arch in years. It was different, somehow, than the last time. I leaned closer. There were faint squiggles. I blinked, trying to process all of the lines. It looked like… languages. Runes, hieroglyphs, cuneiform, and all sorts of other scripts I didn’t recognize. Languages from civilizations long since fallen.
I turned around, my mouth sandpaper dry. “I’ve never seen these before.”
“Because you didn’t have magic,” Manu grunted.
Well, look at that. He could explain something. Before I could ask an important follow-up question, like how we were getting to the meeting, Manu shoved me toward the metallic base of the monument. My head snapped back as I braced for impact, but instead of smashing into the metal, a cold enveloped me as I plunged through the wall. I gasped at the surprise of it all and at the sudden onslaught of sub-zero temperatures.
My breath came hard through my nose, and I scrabbled at my throat for oxygen. It felt like I was being strangled by a troll. “He—lp!”
And then it ended. I found myself on my hands and knees with Manu standing over me. I rose, trying to stop the room from spinning. Lights popped behind my eyes in the near darkness. “What was that?” I sputtered.
“The entrance.” Manu’s face was lit by the glow of the Gordian Knot as he tied my wrists together and pulled me to my feet.
“Now you consider me dangerous,” I scoffed. “You saw me on the floor, right?”
“Yes,” Manu said. “I almost tripped over you. You should be more careful.”
“And you should warn someone before you push them through a magic portal that looks like a solid wall.”
Manu lit a reed torch, and I stopped talking as the opulence spread out before me. Glossy black marble columns shot through with gold vein
s lined the walkway and formed ornate Corinthian capitals. There was no ceiling, at least not that I could tell. Only infinite blackness. The air tingled with energy that buzzed and hummed around us.
Manu strode forward, pulling me along with him. His steel-toed boots made no noise, the marble somehow muffling all sound. We passed countless doors, none of which should’ve fit in this space. I swallowed my confusion and matched his strides with my shoulders back and chin up. No matter who these Council members turned out to be, I wouldn’t let them see me sweat.
The deeper we went, the more my ears felt like they needed to pop, as if we had ascended the Arch, rather than… whatever it is we just did. I opened my jaw and swallowed a few times to no avail.
We passed small doors, large doors, and even a door made of grass. There were no signs indicating where they led—only my imagination. “That one must be for hobbits,” I said, trying to break the tension.
“Do not joke about hobbits,” Manu said, quite seriously.
Without warning, he stopped in front of a black onyx door, and I smacked into him, pulling back to rub my nose. How undignified. And rude of him.
Before I could berate him, he knocked, an echoing, doomsday sort of knock. I quietly toed the line behind him and waited. Simultaneously, my blood felt sluggish and tingled with raw anxiety. I had no recourse here, no idea what to expect, and no way to stop something awful from happening if the Council didn’t like my answers. Basically, I was screwed.
The door swung open without a sound.
Manu kissed his palm and touched the lintel above before entering. I glanced to either side of me. Was I supposed to do that? With the Knot, I doubted I could reach.
Two seconds later, Manu poked his face out, his grimace intact. “Hurry up. The Council does not like to be kept waiting.”
Resisting the urge to flick his nose, I kissed my palm and reached for the lintel, but Manu smacked my hand away before I touched it. “Don’t,” he said without explanation.
Reluctantly, I followed him inside where low rumbles of chatter ceased the moment I appeared. Torches lit up the round chamber, and twelve different types of chairs were arranged in a semi-circle. There were high-backed iron chairs, wooden chairs, and even one made of long, femur bones. Every chair was occupied, but the faces were hidden by cloaks and shadows. I swallowed hard, the noise reverberating embarrassingly loud as the ominous silence blanketed the chamber. One stool sat in the middle. It didn’t look scary, but I’d learned that not all normal things are safe. And not all scary things are evil.
