A knock on the door awoke me, followed by a soft, tentative call.
"Ellie? Are you awake?"
"I am now," I muttered, sitting up and blinking blearily. I'd slept fitfully, despite my exhaustion, and retained a clear memory of where I was, and why, and with whom. The voice belonged to Luke, who momentarily knocked again.
"Ellie?"
"Just a minute."
I rose stiffly. The room was cold, the window still open, and the bluish light of pre-dawn barely illuminated the world beyond. Ro's bed appeared unslept in, and there was no sign of him.
Rubbing my face, I went to the door and opened it. Luke's dark eyes widened a little at the sight of me, which I'm sure wasn't pretty.
"I'm sorry to bother you so early," he said, his soft voice making me lean a little closer to hear him. "Janelle wants to see you downstairs."
"Right now?"
He nodded.
I sighed. "Okay. Gimme a minute and I'll be down."
"Okay," he said, but didn't move.
I shrugged and gathered my things before heading down the hall to the bathroom to freshen up. Luke trailed after me, and it seemed he meant to stick around until he'd successfully delivered me to Janelle. Fortunately, he had such a quiet, unimposing presence, that I didn't mind.
He was a bit shorter than me, with a trim, compact physique, and he moved with a quiet, surefooted grace that made him an unobtrusive and nonthreatening companion—like a deer grazing peacefully in the woods.
The bathroom had two stalls and two showers, and two sinks side by side. Luke watched as I brushed my teeth and washed my face, and smoothed my hair into something closer to an acceptable shape. Finally, I examined myself in the mirror and frowned disapprovingly.
The person staring back at me had red-rimmed eyes, chapped lips, and a dusting of pale stubble. I needed a shave, and I wished I had my makeup with me.
"You're very pretty," Luke commented, frowning thoughtfully. "You must have many friends."
I snorted with surprise and derision. "You must need glasses," I said, finishing my inspection and collecting my things.
Luke didn't argue, and followed me back to my room without saying more.
We descended to the floor below, and Luke knocked on Janelle and Kyrie's door. Kyrie opened it, thanked Luke for retrieving me, and ushered me inside.
"See ya later, Luke," I said, waving.
His face darkened with a coppery flush, and the tips of his large ears turned red. "See you... Ellie," he whispered, and slipped away back upstairs.
"And I thought I was shy," I said, after Kyrie shut the door.
She smiled. "Luke is a gentle soul, and the loss of his witch was a heavy blow. He did not speak a word for weeks after her death. He is much better now, believe it or not."
She led me into the apartment, showing me to the kitchen and dining area this time. Janelle sat at a circular table on which lay a black velvet cloth and a collection of seemingly random things: candles, crystals, a bowl of water and a bowl of dirt, a feather, a scattering of seeds and pieces of bone, and what looked like a plate of pastries and a pot of tea.
"Hey kid," she said, pushing out a chair for me with her foot. "Sorry for the early wake-up call, but I got a day ahead of me and I wanna get to it. Have a seat."
I obeyed, surveying the items on the table with mild trepidation.
"What is all this?" I asked. It reminded me of the tests my dad used to put me through, and already I felt anxiety flickering to life in my chest.
"Earth, Water, Fire, Air," Janelle said, pointing in turn to the bowls of earth and water, the candle, and the feather. "These other things represent some less common proficiencies. The crystals are for second sight, the bones are for necromancy, or death magic, and the seeds are for vitamancy, or life magic. These talents are rare, but worth testing for."
I examined the array of items with a new curiosity. My dad had never explained even that much, and understanding the purpose, however slightly, went a long way towards easing my nerves.
"What are these for?" I asked, indicating the tray of pastries and the pot of tea.
Janelle gave me a pitying look. "Those are for breakfast, hon," she said. "Though you may be right: cooking's its own kinda magic. I don't got it, so I'm lucky my Kyrie does. Help yourself."
I poured myself a cup of tea, but left the pastries untouched. I was much too nervous to eat.
Janelle settled back in her seat. "We'll start with air, since that's your affinity—judging by what you told me, anyway. First, though, we prepare. You know how to meditate?"
"Um... I've tried one of those mindfulness apps before."
She shrugged. "Well, the general principle's the same. The purpose is to get settled in the present moment, find the stillness there, and get your mind nice and quiet, so you can focus your energy. You ready?"
I nodded. I'd given up on the mindfulness apps long ago because I'd found that being mindful of my anxiety made me more anxious, but I was willing to give it another go.
"Alright. Get comfortable—back straight, feet on the floor, hands in your lap." Janelle took this position as well, as her voice grew soft and slow as she went on. "Shut your eyes. Take a deep breath in, and out. Sweep your awareness through your body—up from your toes, feet, ankles, up through your legs; feel your weight in the chair; up your spine to your chest; feel your lungs expand and empty; up to your shoulders and neck, your face, and the top of your head. Now come back down, down through your shoulders to your arms, and finally settle your awareness in your hands. Let's do that a few more times. Follow your breath—up, and down."
I followed along as best I could, and after a few repetitions, I did feel more focused and relaxed. I stopped clenching my jaw, anyway.
"Good. Alright, now I want you to focus on your breath. Follow it as it flows in, and out, like waves on the shore. This is your life—your breath—the air that sustains you. Feel it come and go. Don't try to hold it in, and don't take in more than you can hold. Just breathe: easy and slow."
After a few minutes of this, I found a natural rhythm, and stopped trying so hard.
"That's it," Janelle said. "You got it. This is something I want you to practice for a few minutes every day—right when you get up, and before you go to bed. Okay?"
I nodded without opening my eyes.
"Good. Now, the next step. Focus on the space at the bottom of your ribs—the bottom of your lungs—your 'solar plexus.' Imagine it's like a star that burns with life energy. Can you visualize it?"
I nodded again.
"Does it have a color? A temperature? A feeling?"
"Sort of... a cool green?" I hedged, not sure if I was actually seeing something, or just making it up.
"Everybody's got this 'life energy,' if you will, and there are many spiritual traditions around the world that harness it. We witches call it 'magic,' because this is the energy we use to work our will through spells. Understand?"
"I think so." I understood more than I had before, at least.
"Okay. Now, I want you to visualize your magic, burning like that little star, fed by your breath. Call it up, like tendrils of smoke or vines—however you see it—up with your breath to the top of your lungs, and down your arms to your hands. Imagine it gathering in your palms, like you're holding a little ball of energy, about the size of an orange."
I took a deep breath and did as she said, imagining the energy following the pathways of my nerves and blood, gathering in the space between my hands. My palms grew warm, and a tingling sensation prickled my skin. If I wasn't so familiar with psychosomatic symptoms, I'd almost think it was real.
"Open your eyes, Ellie," Janelle said.
I obeyed, and gasped.
A little globe of green light glowed between my palms, just bright enough to be visible. Then I blinked, and with my concentration shattered, it vanished.
Janelle smiled.
"That's not bad, for a first try. Not bad at all. How do you feel?"
"I... I'm not sure," I answered honestly, catching my breath. "Did you... see it, too?"
"I did," she assured me. "Your magic is real, Ellie. Trust it."
"Why?" I asked, staring at my hands. "Why hasn't it... 'manifested,' or whatever, until now?"
"Who knows." Janelle shrugged, refilling her teacup and grabbing a pastry from the tray. "I admit you're old to be just discovering it now, but everything has a season. We call the time when a young witch's magic is ready to come out 'the ripening.' It tends to coincide with puberty, as that's when our vital energies begin to mature. I guess you're just a different kind of seed."
I contemplated this with a frown.
"Next, we'll test for your affinities," Janelle continued, indicating the items on the table. "Go ahead and ground yourself again. Then, when you're ready, I want you to hold your hand over each of these things—starting with the main elements—and just see if you can sense their energies. See if you can draw it to you, mold and shape it, or even just pick up some kind of impression. Can you tell what kind of animals once lived and moved with these bones? Where the trees grew that gave us this wood? Anything at all—just be open."
I did my best, and for the next half hour moved my hands from one object to the next, but the only impression I got was of myself, looking ridiculous.
"Anything?" Janelle asked, breaking the silence at last.
I opened my eyes and sat back with a sigh. "I'm sorry. Maybe my magic isn't strong enough."
Janelle snorted, unconvinced. "Well, this was your first lesson, after all. Don't feel bad. And you can practice all day while you're at work."
"At... work?"
She raised her brows at me. "I'm a generous woman, for sure, but I got mouths to feed, and you gotta earn your keep. You can work in the shop. Kyrie'll show you the ropes. Go on now—eat your breakfast. The store opens at eight."
❧
Back up in my room, I found a large black trash bag on my bed. Inspecting it, I discovered it contained a lot of my things—clothes from my apartment, shoes, my makeup and toiletries. I had no idea how a small cat could have carried it across town, and wondered if Ro had traveled in human form under cover of night.
Of Ro himself, however, there was no sign.
"He said to tell you he'd be back sometime tonight."
I turned and saw Tobin standing in the doorway, his head tilted a bit to the side, like a curious dog.
"He said not to worry, too."
I frowned as, in direct and immediate disobedience, worry fluttered its little wings at the base of my ribs, right where Janelle had taught me to see the magic at my core.
"Did he say where he was going?"
Tobin shook his head, and pushed his glasses back up his nose as they slipped. His short blond hair was all stuck up on one side, as if he'd slept on it. "Nope. Just 'out to see about some things.'"
"Wow. Specific." I rolled my eyes.
"Cats do what they want." Tobin shrugged. "Unless you keep 'em on a leash. Most cats hate leashes, though."
I winced and glanced at the strange picture book. It lay where I'd left it, and I hoped Ro hadn't seen. I doubted he'd want to relive such memories.
"He can do what he wants," I said.
Tobin looked at me curiously. "Aren't you afraid of him?"
I dumped out the trash bag and started to sort through it. "Should I be? It's in his contract to keep me safe."
Tobin shifted from side to side. "I dunno. Most witches would be scared of him, I think. Even some daemons are."
"Well, I'm not. I'm releasing him as soon as his contract's fulfilled, anyway."
Tobin blinked. "You are? But... he seems so attached to you."
"As if. He can't wait to be gone. Obviously." I sighed at the open window. "Anyway, I gotta get ready for work now. Guess I got a job in the spell shop."
"Oh wow! We'll be work-neighbors!" Tobin exclaimed with more excitement than seemed warranted, as we were housemates already.
I gave him a cautious smile. "Yeah. See ya 'round."
"See ya, neighbor!" Tobin said, and threw me an exaggerated wink before shutting the door.
I put my things away and went down the hall again to shower and shave. Afterwards, I dressed myself in some of my more feminine clothes and applied a bit of light makeup as well. Being genderqueer, my identity shifted along a spectrum, but authentically reflecting who I was, at the moment, made me feel more grounded and confident. Almost like the exercises Janelle made me do.
Finally, I examined myself in the mirror. Luke had called me pretty. I could almost believe it, now.
Before I left, I took one last look at the room, quiet and empty, the window still open and waiting for Ro's return. I rubbed the center of my chest and frowned.
Ro could take care of himself, and I barely knew him well enough to care.
Still, I missed him already, and I hoped he'd come back soon.