By Flame

by T Thorn Coyle

  The room grew even colder. Tobias could see Aiden’s breath as it puffed out from his lips.

  “Brigid? What other message do you have? How should we prepare?”

  He waited, staring at this man he loved so dearly already. Nothing.

  Finally, Aiden shook his head and opened his eyes.

  “That’s all she said,” Aiden told him, eyes blinking.

  Tobias turned back to the altar. The candle flame burned steadily again. A low, sedate flame.

  “Brigid? What do I need to know?”

  He dropped his attention to his center, then expanded it outward. There was the rain. There was a squirrel. There was the Japanese maple, nude of all its leaves. There was a stand of crocus. There was the rosemary bush.

  And here was Aiden. And Tobias.

  And her message to Tobias was as clear as the speech of the plants. As clear as if the Goddess had dropped the words directly into his brain.

  Healing, and easing grief, and preparing for battle, were all of equal importance. He saw that. He felt it. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t understood before.

  22

  Aiden

  “We need more salad!” Renee called out over the din of the kitchen and dining room. Lunch rush was in full swing; there was a line out the rust-colored metal doors, and the dining room was practically full.

  It was all hands on deck at the soup kitchen. Aiden was still a little sore, and slightly shaky, but he had to admit Tobias’s herbal formulas were helping. Hanging out with Tobias the night before had helped, too. He smiled as he rushed to the coffin freezers, where two volunteers chopped mounds of cabbage and lettuce, throwing the vegetables into a giant metal bowl. One of them added handfuls of shredded carrots, and the croutons that the morning breakfast crew had baked before they left.

  A lot of people said they never ate croutons anywhere but De Porres House of Hospitality, that’s how good they were: garlicky and crisp, made with fresh herbs grown by one of the cooks in his garden.

  “Is this almost ready?” he asked.

  The two volunteers, middle-aged women who must have taken early retirement, looked up at him. He really should learn everyone’s names, but had learned to wait until he knew they were coming back. Stingray was great at learning everyone’s names the first day. That was probably why she was crew chief and Aiden wasn’t.

  “We just need to dress it, and then you can take it away,” one of the women said.

  He watched as one of the women poured the oil, vinegar, and herb mixture from a gallon jug into the bowl. The other woman held two giant serving spoons and mixed the cabbage, romaine lettuce, and croutons and carrots, blending the whole thing together until the salad was evenly dressed.

  Aiden’s stomach growled. He wasn’t going to have time to eat lunch for a while.

  Hoisting the big bowl in his arms, he winced. Lifting it was a mistake. It was straining the muscles in his back. He should’ve known better, but when they were in this kind of a hurry, it was just easier to do things himself. Besides, he thought he was in better shape than he apparently was. He was more healed than he had any right to be, but that didn’t mean his body wasn’t still paying the price of all the punishment it had taken.

  He walked as quickly as he could across the red-tiled kitchen floor towards the salad station where a clean, upturned garbage can waited. That would be the pedestal for the salad bowl. He heaved it down.

  “Thank you,” Renee said. Then she spared him a glance. “You doing okay?” Aiden just shook his head and shrugged, which caused him to wince again.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the aching, and looked around the kitchen. It looked like things were under control for the moment. That meant he should go and check the floor, see if everything was okay out in the yard.

  He skirted the soup and salad line and hit the long bar on the metal doors, walking out into the outdoor dining area. Brad was washing one of the giant soup pots, which was propped up on a milk crate, using a hot water hose and a lot of soap.

  “Hey man,” Brad said. “Someone here to see you. I told her she had to wait. That we’re slammed today.”

  “Who is it?”

  “I don’t know. Looks like some politician to me.”

  Aiden looked around and finally spotted a woman in a navy peacoat, neat navy slacks ending in quality brown leather boots. A brown plaid scarf wrapped around her neck. Her skin was about three shades darker than the scarf and her hair was perfectly groomed, with soft waves falling around her face. She was pretty. Subtle makeup, clearly firmly middle-class. And Brad was right, she had the look of politician about her. Aiden thought she even looked familiar.

  He walked toward where she was standing, near one of the flowering pink camellia bushes. It wasn’t raining, so it was nice to be out in the garden despite the cold.

  She held out a hand encased in supple brown leather. “Aiden? Thanks for coming to speak with me.”

  Definitely a politician.

  Aiden shook her hand. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

  “Is there anyplace we can talk?”

  “This isn’t good enough?”

  She stammered a moment, practically sputtering. “I mean, it’s really beautiful out here, but…”

  “You’d like someplace more private.”

  She nodded, relief easing some of the lines of tension in her face. He let her off the hook, then shook his head to himself, not sure why he did that. Old, ingrained habits. Always put middle-class or rich people at ease. You think he would’ve learned better by now.

  “Follow me.”

  He led her into the tiny, cement block office behind the kitchen pantry. It was in the opposite corner of the building from the break room, separated by the racks of beans and rice.

  Two battered metal desks sat at right angles with a small aisle between them. They were covered with pens and calendars, and flanked by file cabinets stuffed with resources for people who lived on the streets, or needed mental health care, or a free dentist. A corkboard bristled with notices for rape crisis centers and places in the city to get showers. One small section of the board was reserved for guests they’d had to kick out, small pieces of paper relating what their offense was and how many days they were ousted for.

  That was Aiden’s least favorite part of the job, telling someone they’d broken enough community agreements that they had to stay away for thirty days.

  He motioned to a battered rolling desk chair. “Have a seat.”

  He had to give the woman credit. She didn’t bat an eyelash before she sat.

  He sat in the other desk chair across from her and just watched her, waiting. She plucked the soft gloves off her fingers, smoothed the brown leather, folded the thumb back and set the gloves on her lap. He noticed she didn’t unwind her scarf or unbutton her coat. She wasn’t planning to stay long.

  “I’m Terry Benson. From the city council.”

  So that was where he recognized her from. He had started attending city council meetings on occasion around a year ago when the community decided they needed to keep a finger on the pulse of city government.

  “And? We’re pretty busy today, so I’d appreciate it if you let me know why you wanted to talk with me.”

  Her lips were tight. Her deep brown eyes searched his face for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not she could trust him.

  She finally spoke again. “This needs to be on the down low. But I heard about your vigil in front of the police station. You’ve poked the hornets’ nest, you know?”

  Aidan shrugged. “I’m not out there in the rain and hail trying to make anyone feel comfortable.”

  She ignored that remark.

  “How much do you remember about the building fires and the accusations against the developers last month?”

  “Carter,” he said.

  She nodded.

  Carter was a greedy, greedy man.

  “All I know is he was ye
t another developer who didn’t want to adhere to the low-income-housing rules and decided he was better off torching his job sites and collecting insurance money, right? And it seemed for a minute like the mayor had something to do with it, but I haven’t heard anything further than that.”

  She leaned forward, the old chair creaking and groaning under her as she moved.

  “The mayor is in it up to his neck.” She said. “And the chief of police, too.”

  “And you’re telling me all of this why?”

  She looked around the office. He didn’t know whether she was seeing the space at all or just making sure that no one was listening.

  “Because I think it’s all connected.”

  Aiden was growing impatient. “Look, Ms. Benson, I really don’t have time for this. I have a lot of people to help feed. So could you cut to the chase, please?”

  She sighed, and finally unwound the scarf from around her neck, then leaned back in her chair again. Terry Benson opened her mouth and then closed it again. She was clearly thinking. Aiden tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. He could feel his anger coming back. He didn’t know if that was good or not. Maybe that was part of preparing for battle.

  A battle he was realizing had its first lines drawn for him when he refused those cops entry to the kitchen garden.

  “I wanted you to know that it’s all connected. The police sweeps of the camps, the raids, the fires, the mayor, the developers.”

  Aidan took in a sharp breath. Now it was his turn to lean forward. Hands on his knees, he stared her down. She stared right back.

  “And what do you want me to do about it?”

  She looked around again, then lowered her voice. “I want you to know, you and your friends, that if you want to take them down… A lot of us on the city council will support you.”

  Then she stood up so suddenly the chair squealed and rocked on its base. She wrapped that plaid scarf back around her neck, slid her fingers into those supple brown gloves, and looked up at him again.

  “Them? Who exactly are ‘them?’”

  “I think you can figure it out. That’s all I’ve got,” she said. “I just needed to let you know.”

  Aiden closed his eyes for a moment, trying to take it in. This wasn’t as weird as a saint coming up to him on a sidewalk, but it was plenty weird all the same.

  “Message received. I’ll walk you out the gate.”

  23

  Tobias

  After Aiden called from the soup kitchen with his bombshell, Tobias set aside his herbs and formulas and called the coven. They decided to meet at Raquel’s house, since they had planned to have a coven meeting about the Interfaith Council and the work they needed to do anyway.

  Only half the coven could show up early. The rest planned to join in later. They’d just have to get filled in.

  Alejandro was here, and Cassiel. Raquel, of course, and Lucy.

  Tobias and Cassiel were in the living room. Tobias sat on Raquel’s overstuffed red couch, and Cassiel sat on one of the big chairs that were arranged in front of a crackling fireplace. Raquel had put some rosemary and lavender onto the burning logs. The herbs perfumed the air. Tobias approved.

  “How’s work?” Cassiel asked.

  “It’s…amazing, actually. Its funny, I had a huge fight with my father about it this week, and was feeling all bent out of shape. But since our ritual, and all the other stuff that’s been happening, it feels like something has snapped into place.”

  Lucy and Alejandro were in the kitchen making tea and getting drinks for people. Tobias could hear Raquel talking to her son, Zion, who was also in the kitchen doing homework.

  Tobias scratched his head. “My clients today were great. The herbs and formulas were practically singing. And people responded. They were telling me dreams and visions they were having. Good ones. And one of them told me I needed to start charging more. He left me a tip. No one ever leaves me a tip.”

  Cassiel had her feet tucked up under her thighs, head propped on one hand, cascade of orange curls falling down across her shoulders. She looked good. Her new relationship seemed to be agreeing with her, and she seemed to have made some peace with her ability to speak to ghosts.

  Tobias was glad. He knew that had been quite a struggle. Everyone had to go through a fight with their gifts, it seemed. Just like he’d been fighting with his own. Hopefully the little breakthroughs he’d been having would continue, and it wouldn’t be as painful as he’d feared.

  Between the hammer and the anvil, Brigid. For as long as it takes, I’m yours.

  “That’s so great, Tobias. It sounds like it might be a sea change for you.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  He looked over the fireplace, where a large painting of a Tarot card hung. The Sun. Joy. It was a portrait of Zion at a younger age, running with his arms out, and radiating rays of yellow and orange lighting up the sky. It represented life-giving warmth. And joy.

  The doorbell rang. Tobias leapt up from the couch to get it. Opening the big wooden front door, he saw Aiden standing on the porch, and couldn’t help but smile.

  “Hey there,” Tobias said.

  “Hey there yourself,” Aiden replied. His smile felt warmer than the fire in the hearth.

  Tobias pulled him into the house, shutting the door behind him, and wrapped his arms around Aiden in a big hug, breathing in the cold clinging to his clothing and his skin. He squeezed his arms beneath the bulge of Aidan’s backpack, just above where his hips met his lower back. Then he leaned away, smiling, waiting for permission for a kiss.

  Aiden still had his own smile splitting his face. Tobias leaned an inch closer. Aiden did too. They crept forward, inch by inch, until by mutual agreement, their lips met in a soft welcome. The kiss deepened. Growing more insistent. Oh Goddess. Tobias could kiss this man all night.

  “I’m sitting right here!” Cassiel called out from the living room.

  The two men separated, laughing, and Tobias stepped backwards and waved him through the foyer towards the living room.

  “Come on in. You can put your stuff anywhere. Only half of us could make it to this meeting, but we’ll fill the rest of the coven in later tonight.” Aiden slung his backpack off his shoulders set it next to the couch.

  “Hi, I’m Aiden.” He held out a hand to Cassiel. She reciprocated.

  “Cassie. I saw you at the meeting the other night, but it’s great to meet you officially.”

  Tobias swung the kitchen door open to alert the rest of the coven that their guest was here, then came back out and sat next to Aiden on the couch. Raquel, Alejandro, and Lucy all greeted him as they entered the room. Raquel handed him a mug of steaming mint tea.

  “Welcome to my home,” she said.

  “Thanks. It’s a beautiful place. How did you know I like mint tea?”

  Raquel tapped her head. “Psychic,” she said.

  Tobias sipped his own tea, a combination of mint and fennel. It was delicious. Then he turned to Aiden and raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to tell them what you told me? Or should I?”

  Aiden leaned forward and set his tea on the long, low coffee table in front of the sofa. Then he sat back.

  “I know some of you heard me speak at the interfaith meeting, and I met a couple of you, I think, but I was a little overwhelmed that night.” He gave a wry little smile at that. Tobias hoped he wasn’t embarrassed. Aiden had been brilliant that night.

  “I don’t know how many of you know this, but myself and some of the other workers at the kitchen went out to try to help a houseless camp the last time the cops did a sweep.” He rubbed the back of his skull. “I got cracked on the head pretty good that day.”

  “By a cop?” said Lucy.

  “A cop pushed me,” Aiden said. “And I fell backwards onto a rock. It knocked me out. I’m still a little sore from it. Tobias’s herbs have been helping, though.”

  “And Brigid,” Tobias murmured.

  Aiden nodded, and took another
sip of tea. “Since then, I’ve been praying in front of the police station to protest the sweeps. The cops have been threatening lately. Even before then, they were showing up at the kitchen, looking for people, and getting pissed off when we wouldn’t let them in. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because today, this city council member came to the soup kitchen to talk to me.”

  Raquel crossed her arms over her chest. There was an extra crease on her forehead. “And what was that about?”

  “She wanted to tell me that the police sweeps, the construction site fires, the weird, hinky stuff with the mayor, and maybe even the chief of police, were all connected.”

  Cassiel jerked. Tobias looked over and saw that she looked more pale than was even her usual. She clutched the edges of her sweater together as though there was an inner chill she needed to stave off.

  “I should have known it wasn’t over,” she said. “I should have known we didn’t have much of a rest coming.”

  “What do you mean?” Aiden asked.

  Cassiel looked at Tobias. Tobias lifted his hands and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s your story more than anyone else’s here,” he replied.

  Cassie took a big breath, and sipped at her own tea. Everyone just waited. She would speak when she was ready. She closed her eyes for a moment, as though she were praying. Or remembering. When she opened them, she trained them steadily at Aiden’s face. Tobias could almost feel the weight of her gaze; she had that spookiness in her eyes she got sometimes, when some big magic was trying to come through. Like when she talked to ghosts.

  “We are the ones who figured out the mayor was working with that developer, Carter. I don’t know how much Tobias has told you about the coven, but we got the information because I was helping someone with a ghost. The ghost happened to be the dead reporter who’d been hot on a story and was killed for it.”

  Aiden sat his mug down again. He leaned slowly back on the couch and raked his fingers through his hair, keeping hands laced around his skull as if he was trying to keep the thoughts in. “You have to be kidding me.”