Weaver

Unexpected Gift

                “And what’s-his-nuts was a god,” Altair said impatiently, “and we all know what happened to him.”

                “That’s different,” Shakra protested, “we had an ace up our sleeve. He was half mad and you had the jar of Pandora. Athena isn’t like Ambrose was. She’s very much all there, and she’s very powerful, and she loses her temper fast.”

                “I’ll deal with it if she does come,” Alice said firmly, “maybe we can all end up being civil about it as well.”

                Shakra smacked one hand to her forehead and growled something under her breath, but as far as Alice was concerned it was settled, “Business as usual,” she ordered them, “and if she does come in, please come get me. I’m sure we can sort this out somehow.”

                “And what if we can’t?” Shakra said.

                “Whatever happens, happens,” Alice found herself rubbing the charm bracelet between her fingers again, it was always strangely comforting, “but in the meantime, Azura suggested you teach me some more spells, Shakra. Would that be okay?”

                “I’m going to have to,” Shakra groaned, “I’m getting you involved in my mess, so I had better teach you some spells to protect yourself.”

                “How about tonight?” Alice suggested, “after the shop is closed up?”

                Shakra just nodded.

Alice looked up as Maya poked her head into the back room, “We’re nearly out of dancing shoes.”

“Right,” Alice stood up and pushed the chair back, happy that the subject of gods was over, “I’ll do some up and come out with them in a bit.”

Shakra moved around Maya and into the shop, “it’s nearly lunch, would anyone like anything from the bakery?”

“A muffin, please! ‘Alice called after her. She was already reaching up to pull a shoe box off the middle shelf, setting it down on the desk and flipping the top off. Inside was a simple pair of red sneakers with white laces in a size eight. She placed the shoes on the desk and plucked a few threads from where they floated just above her, weaving them into the familiar pattern and criss crossing them over the laces. The active buzz of magic under her fingertips was always soothing for some reason. It was so familiar. So natural.

She repeated the process on three more sets of red sneakers in the most common sizes, and piled the boxes into her arms, the top one wobbling slightly as she moved for the door.

Altair snaked one arm out around her and snagged the top box, tucking it under his arm, “careful, you’re going to drop them.”

“Thanks,” Alice stopped in front of the dancing shoe display, “The shelf’s all dusty. Has anyone got a rag?”

“Catch,” Gabriel called from behind the desk, and Alice turned just in time for the crumpled grey rag to hit her in the shoulder.

“Hey,” she protested, “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were aiming for me!”

“Never,” Gabriel protested, but Maya giggled and punched him on the shoulder before he could protest further.

The bell jingled, and Alice gave the new customers – a short, round woman and her two children – a welcoming smile, “Welcome to Threads, do come in!”

“Thank you,” the woman gave her a smile back, and then became distracted as her little daughter went straight for the glass potion bottles, “Daphne! Come back here! Don’t touch those!”