by S. M. Welles
No slippers. No Grandma, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t in the bathroom, or had simply tucked her feet onto the couch.
Roxie raised herself to a kneeling position on the first carpeted step and touched the doorknob one finger at a time, trying hard to not let her anxious grip jiggle it. Old as her grandmother was, she had all her wits about her, eyes that noticed anything—so long as her glasses were on—and hearing that had only begun to fade now that she’d entered her seventies. A door cracking open, seemingly of its own accord, would garner as much attention as ringing a church bell.
For the last few weeks, Roxie had felt like she was standing at the beginning of a path she’d never taken, but had always wanted to know where it led. A gentle pull originating in her stomach urged her on her southeasterly route, as if a literal gut instinct was trying to guide her to someplace or someone important. Over the last few days the tug had gotten more insistent, so she tried walking around the neighborhood in hopes of discovering where this curious pull wanted her to go. She found herself taking the same turns, wandering a little farther, and a little farther each day, until she decided she’d travelled far enough from home. Stopping herself took some willpower. Turning back generated a cold panic in her chest. The only reason she never lost control was because she found her panic irrational. Yet each time she made it back home, she felt more restless, more out of place, and she didn’t understand why.
She needed to find the answer tonight.
Breath held, Roxie turned the doorknob and eased the door open. The couch lay empty. She exhaled and pushed the door farther open, then froze before she could let go of the knob. Staring back at her was Grandma, all the way from the kitchen table.
“What are you up to, Rox? Your eyes are glowing.” Grandma sounded like she wasn’t in the mood for nonsense.
The sudden surprise of getting caught was enough to cause Roxie’s eyes to glow; they glowed whenever she strongly felt sad, angry or frightened, an uncontrollable external indicator of how she felt on the inside. To her knowledge she was the only person on Earth with glowing eyes, which was why she’d never totally dismissed the possibility of being an alien. The problem with that theory was her parents, who were most certainly from Earth themselves, although they both died the day she was born. There were pictures of them all over the house, and she had spent hours with Grandma leafing through photo albums that showed her parents dating, getting married, Roxie’s mother’s belly getting bigger every month, and even copies of the ultrasounds.
Roxie glanced at the back door, which seemed to beckon to her with its dull brass knob.
“Just go back to your room and read one of your old alien books. It’s too late at night for this nonsense.”
Roxie meant to head back to her room, but instead rounded the couch and headed for the back door. “I’m sorry, I know this is a bad time for this, but I have to go. I feel like the answer is really close this time.” She reached for the door.
“And it can’t wait ‘til morning?”
Roxie thought for a moment. “Sorry. No.” Without realizing it, she’d already opened the inner door and had a hand on the screen door.
Grandma set her pencil down. She frowned and stared at Roxie over the rim of her glasses, her frown lined by wrinkles. “You thought the answer was close last night and the night before. Go back to your room.”
“I can’t!” Roxie blurted, then cringed. Defying her grandmother was something she lacked the gall to do. She respected her grandmother’s judgment, and right now understood that wandering around cities at night was stupid. But tonight Roxie felt like she had no option but to go out.
Grandma rose from her chair, put her fist on her hips, and scrutinized Roxie, who noticed her grip had grown slick on the door handle. She wiped her hand on her capris and braced herself for the incoming berating.
Grandma took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “You’re lucky your eyes glow, or else I’d never believe you.”
Roxie felt the warmth behind her retinas fade, meaning her eyes had stopped glowing.
“Be careful.”
Relief blossomed in Roxie’s chest, but was replaced by an urgency to get moving. “I will.” She slipped out the back door, which screeched in protest as it swung shut, and Roxie headed into the forest, her eyes aglow once again. No wind rustled the leaves, and the crickets and tree frogs hushed themselves as she traversed their part of the forest. Roxie shot her glowing-eyed gaze in the direction of any minute rustling and twig scraping nearby but, to her relief, no raccoons, foxes or opossums decided to give her a heart attack.
Roxie reached the other side of the woods and entered a run-down section of Buffalo, a part she knew well enough from all her recent trips into the city. She wasn’t a big fan of cities, even though she’d been through those particular streets a zillion times without incident.
The pull guided her past the soup kitchen and its flock of homeless people, a collection of ragged dogs waiting for their next meal.
Minutes later, Roxie found an intersection connected to an alley without working lights. She couldn’t recall walking past a lightless street on previous wanderings. Common sense told her to go find another way, but the pull in her mind implored her in that dark direction. Okay, now my brain decides to lead me a different way! The pull had normally guided her to take a turn a couple of blocks ago, but not tonight.
Roxie made it to the middle of the intersection, half in darkness and half in light, when she saw the silhouette of a tall, muscular person that seemed to be looking straight at her. Was that a knife in his hand? The sight of blood all over a sidewalk flashed in her mind. She backed away, then started running.
Roxie just made it onto the sidewalk when someone grabbed her arm and forced her to turn around. She felt the delicate touch of something sharp press against her throat. Before she could contemplate her own mortality, or even how her attacker had managed to sprint across the intersection so fast, she almost went deaf. A thunderous bang from overhead echoed through the entire block, and a wave of wind swept out in all directions from where they stood. Streetlights flickered, then everything returned to normal. What the heck was that?
She’d reached to cover her ears but dropped her hands. “Please!” she begged. “Don’t kill me!” She felt lightheaded and started to slump in a faint, but her captor’s strong grip caught her arm. She heard a shuffling sound from behind, and feared an accomplice joining in on the catch.
Without letting go, her captor pulled her behind him and brandished his weapon in the direction of the shuffling. Roxie peered around his shoulder, level with her nose, and saw an aged man fidgeting under a tattered blanket. The hobo regarded both of them with a fearful expression. He raised his blanket to his chin and scrunched lower against the brick building. Roxie regarded her captor with equal fear, who then turned his head to check the intersection behind them. She noticed his eyes. They were glowing red.
His eyes glow too! She stared at them, unable to believe what she was seeing.
The big man released Roxie’s arm. “I’m not going to kill you,” he said in a voice that for some reason made Roxie feel safer. He secured his dagger in its sheath. “Is your arm all r—?” After taking a step back, he stood very still with his arms at his sides, and mouth barely open. He openly studied Roxie’s face.
Roxie gazed at the man’s face and watched his eyes lose their glow, just like she’d seen her own do countless times in the mirror. The first time she had seen her eyes glow was at age five, during a frightening thunderstorm. Her shocked grandmother had carted her to the bathroom to show Roxie her eyes. Young Roxie had blamed the glowing on the storm, despite what Grandma had said. Later on she learned the glow was linked to her emotions.
“Yeah, my eyes glow, too,” Roxie said. “Yours weren’t a trick of the street light or something, were they?” She sorely hoped not.
“No, mine work just like yours. Is your arm alright?”
Just like yours. This time Roxie’s m
outh fell ajar. “No way!” She looked into the man’s deep blue eyes. “All this time… I’ve never seen… Man, I wish you could show me again. You don’t have any control over it either, do you?”
He shook his head. “It’s caused me problems sometimes,” he said with a rueful grin.
“Boy do I know that feeling.” Roxie had resorted to home schooling through eighth grade in order to spare herself, her peers and teachers, and Grandma a lot of awkward grief. She studied the stranger with the aid of a dim streetlight. The man was a half a head taller than she, bore a clean-shaven face and scalp, and had broad shoulders and lots of muscle. He wore a T-shirt, cargo pants and combat boots, all black, and he had a backpack and canteen slung over one shoulder. His belongings, along with the small sheath strapped to one arm, gave her the distinct impression that he wasn’t from her part of the world. But that didn’t matter. They were two of the same… something. “Are we aliens?”
“Pardon?”
“Aliens. You know: people from another planet.” As soon as Roxie said it, she realized how absurd she sounded. She felt her cheeks flush.
The man let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “No. We’re Aigis.”
“But you’re an alien, right?”
“No; just an Aigis.”
“Are you from Earth?”
“No.”
“Then that makes you an alien. What planet are you from? And why do you speak just like I do?”
The man laughed again. “I’ve learned how to quickly adapt to contemporary dialects. What’s your name?” Then, eyes widening as if he’d just remembered something, he took off his pack and laid it on the ground. He unzipped the side and started rummaging around.
“Rox, sir,” she replied. “And yours?”
“Aerigo.”
Interesting name. “What’s ‘Aigis’ mean?”
“Shield of the gods.”
Roxie stood dumbfounded, unsure how to interpret that information. “What’s that mean?”
“A lot of things. I’ve been looking for you for the past two weeks. I need your help.”
“Why?”
“I was instructed to find you and train you.”
“Really? By whom?”
“Someone named Baku. He’s our ally.”
“Bah-coo?”
“Correct.” Aerigo stood and turned to face Roxie, a glass bottle in his hand.
Eyeing the bottle, Roxie began to ask about what she needed to train for, but she cut herself off and instead said, “Wait! Two weeks?” That’s how long the pull in her mind had been bothering her. How much of a coincidence could it be if Aerigo had been looking for her just as long?
“Yes.”
“From which direction?” This was one of those dumb questions, but Roxie just had to know.
Aerigo glanced at the night sky. “Judging by your sun, I came from a generally eastern direction. I crossed an ocean people called ‘the Atlantic,’ or ‘el Atlantico.’”
Roxie then realized the mental pull was gone. Instead there was a sense of completion—not to mention relief. However, she took a couple of steps along the sidewalk, turned around, then braced herself as she walked back.
Nothing. She was free to walk wherever she wanted.
Aerigo looked at Roxie expectantly.
“For the past two weeks I’ve had this strange need to travel east. No clue why. And now that I’ve met you, it’s gone.”
Aerigo’s face brightened with recognition. “You were subconsciously guiding me to your location.”
Roxie gave him an unconvinced stare.
“It’s called magic,” he said. “Although—”
“Magic’s real?” Part of Roxie had often wanted magic to be real so she could magic her eyes into glowing and fading on command. Of course this never worked.
Aerigo gave the young woman a faint smile as he put the glass bottle on the ground and reached for his canteen. He unscrewed the cap and cupped his free hand, ready to catch the water as he upended the canteen. The water fell as Roxie expected, but as soon as it almost touched Aerigo’s palm it began to collect as if it had fallen into an invisible bowl.
Roxie’s eyes widened as Aerigo began to mold the liquid into the likeness of a rose. He let go of his canteen and held his other hand over the reshaping globe of water, slowly moving it up and down like a musical conductor measuring out beats. The water rose splayed over his cupped hand, and the petals shimmered like pool water in the middle of the afternoon. Roxie raised a finger, but restrained herself from touching it.
“Go ahead,” Aerigo said gently, letting his free hand relax. “It’s just water.”
Roxie reached for the nearest petal, which was as big as a half dollar, and tapped its fringe. She looked at her fingertip and saw a drop of water on it. She dipped a forefinger into the water rose and took it out again, noticing that the inside of the rose felt like a bubbling Jacuzzi. Again her finger remained unharmed. “Weird.”
Aerigo reached for his canteen as he turned the rose upside down, which began to dismember itself one petal at a time. Each piece congealed into a large drop and returned to the canteen. The big man screwed the cap back on. “Your turn.” He picked up the glass bottle and held it out to her. “Drink this.”
Roxie reached for the bottle, then stopped herself. “What is it?” She stared at the pale liquid. Even though she felt kindred toward Aerigo and his glowing eyes, she couldn’t ignore being trained to avoid accepting gifts from strangers.
Aerigo looked at the bottle. “Being able to do magic is supposed to be normal for you.”
“And that drink will make me normal?” It was more a statement than a question.
“Essentially, yes.”
Roxie bit her lower lip, folded her arms and stared at the bottle. For some reason the thought of drinking it frightened her. It would change the life she was familiar with, as lonely as it had sometimes been. Already things weren’t the same because she’d met Aerigo, but she was still herself. On the other hand, being able to do magic would be the coolest thing in the world.
Roxie accepted the bottle, unscrewed the cap and sniffed its contents. It was odorless. Well that’s a help. She summoned her courage, closed her eyes, took a sip and swallowed. The liquid tasted mostly like water, slightly sweetened with the hint of a sports drink flavor. She licked her lips, enjoying the sweetness, then began downing the rest of the bottle with the zeal of a person who hadn’t a drop of liquid in days.
She managed to swallow half the contents before a loud crash from somewhere nearby startled them both. “What was that?” she whispered, the bottle still to her lips.
“I’m not sure,” Aerigo whispered back. “Go home and finish the bottle there. Make sure you drink all of it.” He picked up his belongings, then pulled out his dagger and faced Roxie. “I’ll find you in the morning. Just stay home and don’t wander off.” He headed towards the darkest part of the street.
“You don’t even know where I live!” Roxie said as loud as she dared.
Aerigo turned around and sent her a glare punctuated with smoldering red eyes.
Unable to disobey that signal, Roxie hastily capped the bottle and turned to leave, but a sly voice alarmed her and caused her to whirl around.
“Don’t leave just yet.” The man belonging to the voice stepped into the light of the street lamp and stopped in front of Aerigo, smiling at him. “Tell me, Aerigo, who’s your new girlfriend?”
Now would be a great time to start running home, as Roxie had been instructed. However, the tone of that man’s sly voice made her more curious than afraid. She looked to Aerigo for an answer. His muscular arms were corded with tension, eyes burning a molten red. Roxie kept quiet.
This second person looked like he had been swallowed by a shark and spit back out again—twice. A starchy material, covered in dirt and ripped in many places, was all that was left of his jeans and flannel shirt, and his reek stung Roxie’s nose from fifteen feet away. His short black hair was spiked
forward, his dark eyes appeared sunken from fatigue, yet his gaze was charged with…what? Triumph? Whatever it was, Roxie didn’t like how this lean-muscled newcomer stared.
“None of your business, Daio,” Aerigo said, and raised his dagger slightly.
“Ah.” Daio was sneering now. “So she’s the one Baku has sent his mighty warrior to protect. Nexus will be most pleased to learn this.”
“What does Nexus want with the girl?”
“I don’t know,” Daio said irritably. “What does Baku want with the girl? She doesn’t seem particularly special. However, since you’re making a big deal, there’s got to be more to her than what I sensed.”
One moment Daio was standing feet away from Aerigo, and the next thing Roxie saw was Daio right in front of her, wearing his malicious grin. He grabbed the sleeve of her t-shirt and yanked on it, ripping the shirt to the other shoulder and down the side. Roxie threw a fist, but Daio swatted it away as if he were expecting it, and the parry stung as if a block of iron had struck her arm.
“Your eyes do glow!” Daio said happily. “You’re one of our kind.” He bent his knees and kicked one leg backward, catching Aerigo in the stomach.
“Rox, go home now!” Aerigo yelled in a tight voice as he clutched his stomach. Sucking in a breath, he lunged for Daio with his dagger, but only succeeded in driving him away from Roxie and into the street. Aerigo positioned himself in front of Roxie and faced the street.
Roxie started backing into an alley on shaky legs, and with her arms clamping her tattered shirt to her chest. She wanted to run, but feared putting her back to Daio, who had one arm stretched toward the middle of the street, as if he were reaching for something.
“Catch up with you later, kid.” Daio lost his grin, and looked at his hand. “Well that’s no fair.”
Aerigo took the tip of his dagger between his thumb and forefinger and, with a grunt, launched his weapon. Daio ducked out of its trajectory. The blade clanged against a brick building and hit the ground.
