Chaos Magic

by Jennifer Willis

  “Whatever is within my power to give,” he said.

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized his mistake. He had distanced himself from the Lodge for the safety of the pantheon, but he wasn’t disconnected from everyone of power or significance. He was rather close to one key player in particular.

  Hel’s mouth stretched into a rictus grin.

  7

  Sally awoke to a pounding head and bright sunlight stabbing into her eyes. She sat up in her bedroom and took a few deep, deliberate breaths to stave off a wave of nausea.

  She was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, even her shoes. The display on her phone read 11:07 a.m., and Sally had to think about what day it might be.

  A short knock at her door was followed by Opal pushing in with a cup of something steaming hot.

  “Hey,” Opal practically whispered. “I wasn’t sure if you were awake yet. I wanted to give you this before I left.”

  “Left?” Sally’s tongue was slow and heavy in her mouth which, she noted with disgust, tasted vaguely of citrus furniture polish.

  “For my study group.”

  Sally blinked at her.

  “Because I’m a T.A., for Practical Watershed Restoration and Stewardship?”

  “Right.” So it was Friday morning, and Sally had already missed two classes and was in danger of missing a third.

  Opal rested the mug on the particle board table by Sally’s bed. Sally looked down into the tea’s swirling steam and was relieved when her stomach didn’t do an immediate backflip. She breathed in the herbal aroma and thought she might be able to eat something, after a little while longer.

  “This should help with the hangover. I gave some to Saga, too. What were you guys doing last night?”

  Sally frowned, and her headache worsened. “Saga’s here?”

  “Crashed on the couch,” Opal said. “Whatever you drank or ingested last night, remind me to stay far away from it.”

  Sally had no memory of the previous evening beyond the visit to the Nordic Cultural Center and then a new Norwegian pub Saga wanted to try. Aker Haus? Things were blurry after that—fish balls and basil sauce, maybe a flight of Scandinavian tequila?

  The thought of the fish balls stirred her stomach in a bad way. Sally bent forward, breathed through her mouth, and wondered if she possessed the physical agility to make a dash for the bathroom.

  “Pretty bad, huh?” Opal rubbed Sally’s back and held the tea beneath her face. “Breathe this in, as deeply as you can. When you’re ready, drink it down. But only little sips.”

  Sally wrapped her hands around the mug and was grateful for its warmth. She closed her eyes and inhaled, and she smiled when her stomach relaxed.

  “Better?”

  “Better. I’m sorry about . . .” Sally was about to apologize for whatever happened the night before, but for all she knew she hadn’t interacted with Opal until this very moment. “I hope I’m not making you late.”

  “Just take it easy today, okay?” Opal patted Sally’s head in a decidedly parental gesture.

  Sally took a tentative sip of tea and swallowed without consequence. She took that as a good sign.

  Opal’s mouth twisted into an awkward smile. “Do you think you could make yourself scarce tonight? Because, you know, I’ve got that . . . thing.”

  “Because you’ve got your third date with Lauren?” Sally sipped her tea and resisted the strong temptation to tease her roommate.

  “Yeah. Lauren.” Opal’s face actually reddened. Sally couldn’t remember seeing her blush before. It was adorable.

  Sally experimented with a larger sip of tea. So far, so good. “After everything you’ve put up with, I can at least give you some room to live your life.”

  Opal’s shoulders relaxed even as she feigned annoyance. Sally was glad Opal knew she was teasing.

  “Just don’t go blabbing about the Lodge or magick or anything just yet.” Sally gulped down the rest of the tea and rested the empty cup on her nightstand. The table wobbled but was surprisingly sturdy for a cheap IKEA piece with two previous owners.

  “I’m not an idiot,” Opal said with a sigh. “And I don’t want my date to think I’m a nut case.” She looked out Sally’s window toward the tree-lined street beyond. “But we met at that Pagan soiree at the Chinese restaurant over in Southeast, so she does know something about magick.”

  “Okay, but I don’t think talking about living Norse gods and your Rune Witch of a roommate is the most appropriate fodder for a third date.”

  “Right.”

  Sally smirked. “Of course, if you want to light some candles and make your own magic, I say go for it.”

  Opal grabbed Sally’s pillow and swatted her head with it. Sally ducked away from a second blow.

  “You don’t mind?” Opal tossed the pillow onto the bed.

  “I don’t mind. And it’s Friday, right? Lots of parties around campus and Halloween stuff going on.”

  Opal made a sharp sound of disgust. “I really hate this time of year. I mean, obviously I love Samhain and Winter Nights and all that. The real holidays. But Halloween . . .” She pronounced the word with distaste. “It’s just so, I don’t know, almost vulgar.”

  Sally shrugged. “I think it’s kind of fun.”

  “You can have it.”

  Opal let her know there was more tea in the kitchen, and told Sally again to take it easy. Then she was out the door and down the hall, jingling her keys.

  Sally peeled her sweater off over her head and sniffed at it. The heavy wool stank of alcohol and wood smoke. She wondered how many more times she could get away with wearing it before she’d have to take it home to her mother to be properly laundered.

  She listened to Opal leave the apartment and lock the deadbolt. Then she climbed to her feet and waited for a bout of dizzy nausea to send her back to the mattress. But her balance and head seemed clear. That was some tea Opal had made.

  She thought about tidying the apartment a little for Opal’s date. They’d vied with each other for Frigga’s approval and were apparently locked in an unwelcome magickal rivalry for Maggie’s favor, but they were still friends. Sally didn’t want to sabotage Opal’s chances with Lauren. At the very least, it was Sally’s turn to scrub the toilet and mop the kitchen floor.

  Sally stepped out of her bedroom and nearly collided with Saga in the combined living and dining area.

  “Good.” Saga met her with a smile. “You’re up.”

  The vice-grip of Sally’s headache started to squeeze again, with an unpleasant suggestion of nausea. Saga was far too bright and cheerful.

  Sally glanced at the half-full pot in the electric tea-maker on the kitchen counter. She leaned against the wall as a rising tide of bile threatened her esophagus.

  “Forget the tea,” Saga said. “I know something better. But first a shower. Then we’re going out.”

  “Out? I don’t think so.” Sally spoke softly, afraid that opening her mouth too wide would send her racing for the sink to retch up her guts.

  Sally knew it was a mistake to let Saga dress her, but her head was throbbing and she couldn’t think straight. Saga made a fuss about how Sally wasn’t “really living.” Apparently Sally needed to learn how to loosen up and actively embrace the mystery and intrigue of being Loki’s Rune Witch.

  The result of Saga’s spiritual and fashion makeover was a hodgepodge of modern Gothic—black hiking boots, black jeans, and a dark burgundy sweater over a tight black camisole—accented by chunky silver jewelry and a teal-colored scarf with tiny bells on it that Opal had been wearing to a belly dance class. Saga also applied liberal amounts of eyeliner, mascara, lipstick, and nail polish—all in shades of midnight—that she just happened to be carrying in her purse.

  To complete her masterpiece, Saga pulled out a black velvet choker that looked like it had bleached white finger bones dangling from it. She tied it so tightly around Sally’s neck that it hurt to swallow. When Sally looked at herself in the m
irror, she was honestly speechless.

  “Much better,” Saga said with a proud smile. “The perfect ensemble for the budding chaos witch on the town.”

  “On the town? It’s barely lunchtime.” Sally stared at her reflection in open shock. Her eyes looked much deeper and darker, and her black lips contrasted sharply with her red-gold hair. She looked like she was headed to a vampire rave. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be seen in public like this even the day before Halloween.

  “Opal said I should rest,” Sally said.

  “Nonsense.” Saga took Sally by the arm and led her toward the door. “I know how to get you to feeling better. And this?” She gestured toward Sally’s outfit. “This is to give you a boost.”

  They took Saga’s hybrid Volvo. Sally didn’t say a word as she buckled herself into the passenger seat. She was too tired to worry about any technical problems her chaos magick might cause but everything seemed to be running smoothly, which was impressive enough. Saga pulled out into traffic, talking about her favorite coffee blends, the Marvel movie she’d seen the week before, and the Nordic Cultural Center. After about twenty minutes in Portland Friday traffic, Saga parked in an empty space on the busy street and hopped out of the car.

  “I always find the best parking space!” Saga called over her shoulder as she ignored the pay-to-park kiosks and stepped out blindly into the street. By some miracle, the cars all slowed or swerved around her, granting her safe passage.

  Sally stood on the curb and waited for a break in traffic, and for someone in the most convincing corpse costume she’d ever seen to amble past. The Halloween character had gone to a lot of trouble to get the wrinkled, desiccated flesh and eye makeup just right, but the movement and muscle tone were too robust for a zombie. Still, the costume was sure to be a hit at parties or a haunted house.

  Sally darted across the street. Saga pulled open the glass door to the Vine and Herb co-op. “After you, Goth Girl.”

  “I am so not Goth,” Sally said too loudly as she stepped inside. The small shop smelled of patchouli and tahini. A lady in the produce section glanced up from locally harvested green beans, looked Sally up and down, and rolled her eyes as she moved to a neatly arranged pomegranate pyramid.

  Saga hooked one arm through Sally’s and picked up a wicker shopping basket from a tall stack by the fruit displays.

  Sally had no idea what Saga was shopping for. The Vine and Herb was like a small, upscale Trader Joe’s, or maybe a cross between a farmer’s market and a Chanel boutique—a place for rich hippies. She padded along in an amiable daze as Saga picked up bananas and peppermint oil and fresh turmeric root. Sally hoped she was feeling the effects of Opal’s tea and not some mind-altering incense wafting through the co-op’s HVAC system.

  Saga ducked around a corner, and Sally found herself standing absently in front of a wall of dehydrated fruit and veggie chips.

  “May I help you find something?”

  Sally was surprised by the tall young man standing at her side. Zach. At least his name tag wasn’t made out of hemp.

  “My friend is here someplace.” Sally wobbled on her feet, and Zach grasped her elbow to steady her.

  “I’m not feeling very well,” she said.

  Zach guided her toward a small counter at the back of the store. Sally didn’t object. Even if he’d tagged her as a shoplifter and was taking her to the back office until the police could arrive, the idea of sitting down—even if it meant being interrogated—definitely appealed to her.

  “Maybe you just need to get off your feet for a minute.” Zach steered her toward a folding bamboo chair and got her some glacier water in a biodegradable cup.

  Sally sipped the water and discovered that she was blushing at Zach’s kind smile. She guessed he was a couple of years older, maybe another PSU student. His clothes screamed “fair trade cotton.” He was cute, in a vegan urban nature boy kind of way.

  Sally spotted the sandalwood mala on his wrist and started toying with the charms on her own bracelet, a gift from Frigga. She tried to think of something witty to say, but then she saw the black polish on her fingernails and remembered what she was wearing. She sank lower in the chair and hoped the layers of cosmetics would disguise her burning cheeks.

  “I don’t normally dress this way,” Sally blurted before she drank down the rest of the water and placed the empty cup on the counter. She tried to get up but instantly felt woozy again.

  “It’s Halloween.” Zach helped her back into the chair. “It’s a great costume. Are you a comely gypsy or something?”

  Zach’s smile didn’t waver, and Sally realized she was feeling better in his company. She was about to launch into an explanation about how her friend had dressed her after getting her drunk and how hungover she was and how she normally wore jeans and fleece and wasn’t wobbly on her feet. But when she opened her mouth to speak, her brain froze.

  Did he just call me comely? The gears in Sally’s head spun on that. Does he think I’m pretty? Even in hiking boots and a bone choker?

  “Sally?” Saga emerged from an aisle of dried seaweed and organic preserves. She winked in approval when she saw Zach hovering over her. “You okay? Or maybe you’d like me to go lose myself in the kale and spinach?”

  Sally’s face burned hotter. Surely her blushing was showing through her makeup by now. She wanted to say something clever and flirty, but then she saw the deep lines of worry on Saga’s face as she stalked toward a newspaper rack.

  Saga’s hands shook as she grabbed one of the papers.

  “What is it?” Sally rose and Zach was immediately at her elbow to help her to her feet. She made a mental note to come back to the Vine and Herb when she didn’t look like a steampunk fortuneteller out of an Edgar Allan Poe retelling, and see how Zach reacted to her then.

  “The Nordic Cultural Center.” Saga’s voice cracked. “Someone burned it down.”

  Sally steered Saga’s car back to the apartment. Saga was too shaken to drive, and Sally scored a sucky parking place two blocks from her building. But she’d exchanged phone numbers with Zach and that took the edge off her headache, temporarily.

  They carried their reusable bags of hangover groceries—roots, herbs, tinctures, fruit—and a couple of sandwiches as they walked through a light sprinkling of rain. They encountered a few dozen costumed pedestrians and cyclists on the way. Monopoly Man, at least seven characters Sally guessed were from Pokémon, a Captain Spiderman superhero mashup, and another guy who was dressed almost identically to the corpse costume she’d spotted outside the Vine and Herb. Maybe there was going to be a zombie flash mob.

  Back inside her apartment, Sally deflated on the futon couch. The worn mattress sagged and she could feel the wooden slats of the frame pressing against her body. The nausea was back, as was the pounding in her head. The news about the Nordic Cultural Center started to sink in.

  “I don’t understand.” Sally rested her head against an enormous throw pillow. “We were just there last night. What could’ve happened?”

  In her gut, Sally had a very good idea of what had happened.

  “Arson.” Saga went straight to the kitchen to prepare a hot tea remedy with some of the groceries. “That’s the initial suspicion. I should call Erik. Or Lena, or Torsten. Maybe Dagmar.”

  “Were there casualties?” Sally was afraid of the answer. Had she hurt someone this time? She searched for the news on her phone and was startled by photos of the smoking, charred remains of the pristine building she’d visited the night before.

  “Not according to the newspaper.” Saga was sullen as she unpacked the rest of the bags onto the counter. She scrubbed the turmeric root in the sink. “Maybe I can organize a relief fund to rebuild, or something.”

  “All your hard work.” Sally heard the tears in her voice. She skimmed for more details on her phone. “And the artifacts. They’re all gone, destroyed.”

  Saga sliced thin, even rounds of turmeric root and added them to a skillet over low heat. “But
not the ship. That hadn’t arrived yet.”

  Sally wanted to throw her phone across the room. “Even the sarcophagi, cracked open and ruined. They said they exploded from the inside out. That can’t be right.”

  There was no mention of the bodies inside. Probably a detail that got cut by an editor in the rush to publication. Sally wondered about respect for the anonymous dead so close to Halloween and added it to the mental list of forgiveness she needed to seek.

  Sally’s shoulders hunched against an icy chill. The fiery destruction made all the sense in the world. The stone sarcophagus, nestled in the crate where she and Saga had sat. The crate she’d used to discharge her magickal static. Of course it had exploded.

  Granite will crack, her geology professor had said in his lecture. Sometimes explosively.

  Sally ran for the sink and retched into it.

  Saga handed Sally a kitchen towel. “It wasn’t your fault. It couldn’t have been.”

  Sally rinsed out her mouth and dried her face. Then she marched out of the kitchen and started doing anxious laps around the couch.

  “You don’t know that.” Sally forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. Even endless circles around the furniture gave her something to do. The headache throbbed at the edges of her awareness, but she was too restless to be sitting around. And she had no idea what she could do to make things better.

  “It was arson because I burnt the whole place down with my freaking sparky fingers.” Sally flexed her hands as she continued her frenetic pacing. Sparky Fingers. She could be a low-level hero in the Marvel Universe. More likely a villain. Her breath rose high in her chest and she was beginning to feel dizzy, but she wasn’t about to sit down.

  Saga came around the counter and held a mug out to Sally. “If you would just relax a minute, maybe have some tea?”

  “You think I deserve tea?” Sally passed by on another lap. “I should be locked up, Saga. Someplace dark and deep and way far away from everything. So I can’t hurt anybody.”