Chapter 12: Atlas
THE BUILDING ITSELF is worn down with age, and the once crimson bricks seem to sag in slanted lines, each piece a faded pink. The people that come and go are considerably younger, but they too sag; weighed down with the heat that bears down on us all. In my jeans and work boots, it only takes a minute in the parking lot before sweat covers my hair and irritates my scalp. I don't think I've ever been so grateful for the need to handle counter work than today.
Swinging the door wide open as I enter, I pause to enjoy the embrace of air that greets me in frigid waves. Our electric bill may be higher for the next couple of months, but all the new business from tourists should balance it out. Even if it doesn't, it's still worth it.
Elliot is ringing up a customer, and nods curtly at my tardy appearance before wrapping up the weighted garden decorations the woman had selected.
Pinning on my name badge and grabbing a cloth to shine the glass display cases, I double check the inventory and make a mental note of what items we need to replace. As dim as the outward appearance is, the interior of our shop gleams like a dragon's hoard. We make, or repair, everything from silver earrings, to small pieces of furniture. If it's metal, and it's decorative, we do it.
Elliot's specialty is setting stones into jewelry and frames, and there's no denying that any item he sets will not budge. No matter how gaudy the jewel, or delicate the band, we've never had a complaint. Despite the Council's insistence that it's my larger works that keep the store afloat because of their protective properties, the fact is, Elliot's work alone brings in more business than any other jeweler's in the county.
“Hey Atlas, I'm glad you finally showed up.” Elliot joins me over in the back corner and begins to remove his name tag. Gazing up at him from where I'm crouched in front of a row of jewelry boxes, I acknowledge his disappointment.
“Mom dropped by today. It complicated things slightly, but you should have seen her Elliot. She had so much energy, she even decided to drive in and run some errands. There wasn't even any yelling involved!”
I might be deflecting, but I really am happy about it, and he should be too. As expected, he curls his mouth into a small smile, and he bobs his head in happiness, just like I do when I'm given good news.
He's the same height as I am, though broader, and our faces are similar, but he resembles Dad's more than anyone else. Despite the differences, our expressions and body movements are much the same, and as children we'd often be mistaken for the other if we were seen at a distance or moving fast enough. I hated it then, but now that sense of family carries me through most days. Funny how that works.
“That's great, I'm hoping she makes it over tonight like she promised. You know how she is, sometimes she'll do one thing and use it as an excuse to sleep the rest of the day,” he pauses and glances around. “Where's the girl?
“She had an errand to run, but we've got plans to meet up later. I found out she's pretty good at cloaking herself, so I think she'll be okay long enough for me to work a shift. And her name's Tania, remember? Tania. I don't think she cares much for being referred to almost as a thing rather than a person.”
Elliot flinches at the reproval. “I'll remember that,” he concedes, his tone earnest.
Glancing at his phone he jumps and shoves his badge into his back pocket. “Okay, sorry, I've got to jet. I need to stop by the store before going to meet Nova. Her appointment is in an hour, and trust me, if I'm late she'll refuse to even get her blood draw done. Call me later and we'll catch up.”
His gait widens as he rushes out the door and leaves me to customers, my laughter the only sound in his wake.
At first, the time goes by quickly, wave after wave of customers continually needing my assistance. I may or may not have sold a few items half priced just to get people out the door, because the entire time my mind is anxiously sifting through questions.
Where is Tania, did she find the map, is she safe? The worry is enough to make me crack two display cases, in my frenzied fidgeting with the heavy ring at my hand.
This is my mind when it's busy, and in the back of my head is a secondary panic, wondering how bad I'd feel if I actually had time to sit around and think. Of course, if I did have spare time, I might not be so anxious, because I could actually be taking care of things.
I want to move, to go hunting through those woods and find that beast and figure out why it came after us. I've texted a couple friends asking if they’ve ever heard of such a creature, but the only responses I get back are jokes, questioning if I was drunk or sleepwalking. Nobody else has seen any unusual animals, and there's no possible reason I can think of for its sudden appearance besides Tania. She didn't seem familiar with its cry though, and nothing I've ever encountered resembles this thing.
About half an hour into my shift, Thomas Ursa saunters in with a large mailbox tucked under his arm. His cousin Eric trails along behind him, idly glancing around the displays. I hurriedly thank the young girls chattering at my counter for their business, and wave them out the door with the bracelets they'd bought.
“Hey guys, what happened with this thing?” I ask, indicating the copper plated box Thomas is setting down gently on the wooden countertop.
“You tell me, Atlas. Yesterday when I got home from work, it was fine. I walk out this morning to grab the paper, and it's all banged up.”
Sure enough, the once smooth, hammered frame is smashed in with deep imprints. Turning it over in my hands, I grow cold as I recognize the Celtic knot, I'd worked into the side has been marred by claw marks.
Eric leans forward and gingerly brushes his fingers across one particularly deep gouge that goes through the metal itself. “It really is the strangest thing, isn't it? I figured you and your brother had a lifetime guarantee because I've never seen anything either of you've made get busted up like this.”
My heartbeat picks up, and the knot in my stomach reminds me of the pain from last night. Holding back nausea, I force my voice to a casual tone and speak up, “Yeah I've got to say, it really is pretty strange. Hey Thomas, what's the rest of your porch like right now? By the looks of this thing, I'd be willing to bet some sort of creature did this number.”
Eric knows and accepts magic, as do most mortals who are close with mages, but I don't want to alarm the entire town. Mortals who can't possibly fight this demon are sure to panic, and I wouldn't blame them one bit.
Eyeing Thomas meaningfully, I emphasize the word creature so that he knows I'm worried about the occurrence.
Sure enough, he understands that something magical is afoot, and confirms what I'd already guessed. “You know, that's the funny thing. There isn't anything wrong with my porch or door at all.”
Knocking on the ruined mailbox, he draws attention to where the knot was and talks right at my face, “I would have to say that lifetime guarantee served its purpose. Whatever it was, couldn't get into my house at all and I'm betting the mailbox was the key to that.”
“Well you know what my dad always used to say,” I respond weakly, smiling for Eric's benefit. "The Riordan family can never keep any good luck, but we sure pass it on. Extra work for me, a nice clean porch for you.”
Eric seems to have caught that he's missed something but assuming (correctly) that we won't discuss it with him, he changes the subject.
“Well, I'm not so sure about that now, Atlas. I saw you last night over at the pizza place. You must have had a little luck to get that girl out on a date with you last night. When was the last time you went out with somebody? It can't have been since Iris, could it?”
Thomas glances between us, his copper hair flopping back and forth across his peaked forehead as he moves.
“You had a date last night?” He asks, dropping his previously serious manner, as he throws himself fully into the matter of my dating life.
“Well sort of, but it ended badly because the restaurant had some sort of problem with the electricity. So, there's nothing to really tell.”
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nbsp; I pray he lets it drop, because I can't think of any suitable lies to explain away who Tania is.
Eric shrugs and reaches up to clap my shoulder, “Well I'm sorry man, she was pretty one too. I guess your family really doesn't get to have any good luck.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” I chuckle forcibly. “Now about this mailbox,” I flip it over a few more times and ascertain the amount of work it will take. If that beast is going after my friends, Thomas is going to need it back on his porch by sunset.
“Copper is obviously a little too weak to go up against whatever picked a fight with it last night. Tell you what, I'll reinforce it with some iron, and then fix the copper plating and design.”
We spend the next couple of minutes haggling over a price, and I find it difficult to pretend I care about the money. If I don't ask for payment, they'll both be suspicious, and once suspicion is in the air, it travels fast and stays afloat. With my present houseguest and plans, that's not attention I can afford right now.
“Eric, can you do me a favor,” I ask, glancing up from the register to put in the deposit.
“Go put up the CLOSED sign for me. Postal service won't go through without a place to put it, so I'm going to go ahead and take care of this right now.”
He obliges, and as soon as his cousin is out of earshot, Thomas leans across the counter. “Ok, so what is going on? No ordinary animal did this, but I've never seen a curse like this either.”
I deliberate for a moment, caught between my fear, and the desire to have a friend on my side. Another mage I can count on is good, but I'm worried that the more people I talk with, the faster the Council will be wanting a full account... and that would involve an introduction to Tania. Deciding to tell him a half truth, I talk quickly to avoid Eric's curiosity.
“I'm not so sure, but last night I was on my way to drop off my date when I heard this terrible screech. Then this thing, like an enormous cat came bounding out of the woods. It looked like a house cat, but huge. Mountain lion sized. And its eyes,” I shake my head at the memory, haunted by the way it seemed to hunger for me. “Its eyes were like fire and something dark. I've never seen anything like it before.”
“How'd you get away?”
“My Dad's ring he made me for graduation. I threw it at the thing, and it scampered. That's why I'm going to run this through with iron. Make sure it doesn't go sniffing around you again.”
Eric rejoins us easily, and Thomas thanks me for my time, his thin, normally ruddy hands, pale beneath the artwork that adorns them.
“Well, we'll see you later then.” They both wave at me as I lock the shop door behind them, watching their figures retreat with apprehension.
Turning back into the workshop, I gather up supplies for the mailbox and shift a necklace Elliot's been repairing back over to his work bench.
The silence that surrounds me is worrisome, and I realize how accustomed I've gotten to Tania's presence over the past day. It's actually odd, and more than a little concerning that I haven't heard from her by now. I promised myself not to go looking for her, but this situation with Thomas makes that a goal impossible to keep.
Fidgeting with the tattoos around my wrist, I once again start scanning the town lines for her vibrant violet haze. At first nothing but mages appear, and I force myself to remember her cloaking habit before I allow myself to panic. Bile starts to rise in the back of my throat as that still doesn't work, and darting around the workshop, I grab at any tools that could help me find her.
Quartz! She was wearing quartz in her hair this morning. My feet spin around wildly as I turn back around for that necklace I'd just pushed aside. Taking it firmly in hand, I picture Tania's raven hair and the rosy stars she'd worked into it. The ink in my ribs burn more than my wrist, but knowing I have no time to wonder why that is, I ignore the sensation and focus on drawing more energy from the stone in my hand and picture the streets of the town.
Eventually, the faint violet hue comes into focus and I release the energy without grounding. Unlike Tania, I don't unleash magic into the air, but a current of power shoots through my body and promises a strong headache in the morning.
Dropping Elliot's work onto the ground, I move towards protection charms, just in case. She's somewhere on the south side of town, and despite the amount of work I have ahead of me, I know there's no way I'm going to get any of it done until I know she's safe. Slipping an iron keychain into my pocket, I rummage through my dad's old workbench, doing my best to ignore the dust.
Eventually my fingers brush across the chain of a necklace and I pull it out from a tangled mess of half-done jewelry. Grabbing a silver hammered pendant of the evil eye, I string it on, hoping it's strong enough to do the trick.
The air is filled with static, and the wind that blows through my car windows smells like rain. Thunderstorms aren't so uncommon this time of year, but in light of my recent cards, I'm worried it's a sign of disaster on the way.
Navigating through the streets is a game of autopilot, my mind only paying attention to passing pedestrians and raven-haired girls in shorts and Chucks. Unfortunately for me, there's more tourists on the sidewalks than usual, and her outfit this morning proves to be more common than I'd expected.
Before I go even a block, my heart jumps into my throat at the sight of a lean girl with hair floating about her shoulders, but the color is too soft; a dark brown instead of glossy black. Twice more, I have this happen, thinking I've found her before realizing that one girl is too tall, and the other too hesitant in her walk. Driving on, I don't bother to glance at their faces.
The dark clouds roll in above the weathered rooftops, and the darker they get, the further into the residential streets I drive. I don't understand what she'd be doing out here. The only thing she'd mentioned was the dry cleaners. I curse into the wind, wishing I'd asked Eric what place they used.
Finally, I catch sight of a muddied shoe disappearing into a condemned house, and pull up to the curb, glancing in my rearview mirror as I park.
The sensation of being watched is once again prominent, but there's no mages, mortals, or demonic beasts in sight. I’d love to believe the shoe isn't Tania’s, and although I have no idea why she'd be interested in such a dump, I still have to check. Unfortunately, there's no way I'm going to fit in the entrance she took, so it looks like I'm breaking and entering today... not just trespassing.
The wood is blackening and soft with rot, and the few windows that aren't framed in jagged glass are so grimy it's hard to tell they were ever anything but opaque. Despite the age of the wood, it's still sturdy enough that kicking it in could cause enough noise to alarm the neighbors. I press against a window, gauging the amount of glass I'd have to shatter in order to slip through, but my palm is met with such a heavy layer of dirt that I'm sure even the smallest cut would become infected. My only other option left is to charm my way in, and the possibility of burning myself again makes my throat go dry.
The static in the air builds, and the thunder resonates through my bones as it echoes across the housetops. My hands shake as I draw out a pocketknife and begin to etch runes into the wood at the hinges and lock of the door. Raindrops fall aimlessly over my clothes, and wedging myself underneath the spare awning, I summon extra strength into my palms and push the door open silently. It falls forward at an angle and I clamber over a mound of refuse that's been molding just inside. The smell of decay fills my lungs, and coughing, I force myself to venture deeper into the house.
Chapter 13: Tania
I HATE THE COLD.
I hate the cold, and I hate being blind.
Once when we were little, Mother decided to throw a birthday party for me, something small with just our cousins... but because it was her event, it had to be flashy.
Streamers and balloons billowed over our heads, and the normally quiet house seemed to be teeming with motion in every corner I looked. It was disorienting enough, but to add to this, she decided it would be fun to have a piñata. A paper mach
e cat was hung from a tree outside and I was told to break it open with a broom handle, but I wasn't allowed to see.
The scratchy fabric of a dish towel irritated my cheeks, and as she knotted it behind my head, the pressure at the bridge of my nose began to ache. Then the screaming. The yells of “This way!” and “No, go up!”, “Aim lower”, surrounded me from every angle, and made me want to cry. But crying was a weakness.
I tried to talk my way out of it, I asked to let the others have a turn. But I wasn't allowed to put down the broomstick until I hit the damn thing, and she refused to take off the towel, because that wouldn't be fair.
Eventually, I threw myself on the floor and shrieked so loudly, I burst the piñata open with an unintended spell. Every time I find myself in a dark room, I can still remember the smell of chocolate and butterscotch as the contents fell on my head, peppering me with tiny bruises.
Standing here in pitch darkness, I shake my arms, as though trying to dislodge candy wrappers from my shoulders, and instead I'm met with goosebumps. So, I shrug my bag higher up onto my shoulder and edge my way through the room, keeping my eyes as wide as they can stretch.
“Hello? Sasha? Anyone?” My voice is thin and shaking, and I struggle to push the words out around my shattering teeth. The sweat on my face and legs is chilling over like a layer of ice on my skin, and I wish I'd had a jacket. Anything to cover my back.
More unsettling than the cold is a jabbing sensation in between my shoulder blades, like someone has their hand on my back. No. Not just like there's a hand on my back. My lips tremble as the pressure bears down and I feel them pinching into my skin... long, spindly fingers pressing into the cotton of my tee shirt.
My throat constricts with fear, and my head feels as though a smog is rolling through it, beckoning me to unconsciousness. Don't pass out... I can't let myself faint; that's the easiest way to get possessed, everyone knows that.
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