Back at the Start (02)

I put my hands up in surrender. "Hey, I'm a lover, not a fighter," I answer, thinking about just how true that became for me this afternoon. I lower my hands. "Just tell me what we're doing here, then, because I really don't know how all this woo-woo aura stuff is supposed to go." I do real magic.

I try to play along with Talia's guidance on this, but it does feel pretty silly. Still, when she assures me there won't be humming and chanting, I am able to relax more. I guess finding out how she sees me could be interesting, even if it's not really real. When she finally starts describing my aura, I guess, and describes the dark thread, it makes me think of Riley and how Galinthias warned me about a darkness around him. For a second, I wonder if he's already rubbed off on me somehow. Then I realize that I have plenty of darkness of my own. Then I realize that Talia's description could fit probably anyone if they're willing to think about it.

"Doesn't everyone?" I ask her, the question calm and honest, direct but not trying to shut her down. It's more like...I'm curious if she'll offer more and try to fill in the gaps if I don't do it for her.

Talia's additional information hits a chord, and I feel the curiosity in my face change to something like recognition. When Emmy asks if it hurts, I swallow, trying to think of an answer that's both true and doesn't make me sound weak or crazy. But does Medora being gone hurt me? All the time. I miss her all the time, and not just for how much easier she made my life - although that's part of it - because she also made my life a lot harder in some ways. She was...well, like a sister to me. That means she drove me crazy sometimes, and sometimes I wanted to kill her myself, but also...I'd do anything to get her back. Not just another homunculus. HER.

"She can have as much space as she needs," I answer softly, my gaze distant and far away. Then I realize I answered out loud and I blink, bringing myself back to the present. I push a smile onto my face and breezily add, "My aura has all kinds of space. Bring it on, right?"

I feel my chin raise a bit when she tells me I'm built for handling storms, almost proud of that fact. I've been through some serious storms, and come out stronger on the other side. I'm sure it will happen again.

"You said it was just a thread, right? A shadow? That means most of me is still...me. And I...maybe who I am is always going to be related to other people - not just her. Lots of people, people I care about, people I help, people I...conquer."

I know all too well how one small change, a small push or influence, can impact so much more. When you're dealing with gods, that feels even more true. Little moves can have cosmic impact.

I look to Emmy when she pipes up, talking about mirrors and reflections, distortions and loss. It's honestly a lot more insightful than I'd expect from her, but when she backs down almost as soon as she's said it, it's almost like she undercuts her own wisdom. Talk about distortion. Then I think about what Red said, how I saw her when nobody else did, gave her importance and significance.

I reach out and put my hand on Emmy's shoulder. "It IS worth saying," I tell her seriously. "Thank you." I look over at Talia as well. "Thank you," I tell her too. "This has been more than what I expected, honestly."

I hesitate for a moment, worried that if I seem too eager to give Emmy's sweatshirt back, she'll find a way to take offense...or that if I seem too eager to keep it longer, she'll see that as offensive too.

"My...dress should be dry by now," I answer. "I left it hanging up in the locker room. Do you...want to come check with me?" I hope that offering to have her come along will make her chill about me being ready to give her the sweatshirt back.

You leave the library with Emmy trailing close behind like a quiet shadow. Her presence is comforting, even if she doesn’t say much. The two of you walk through the halls, the distant hum of conversation and lockers slamming fading into the background. It’s that in-between time, when the school feels caught in a lull, and you can almost pretend you’re alone in the building.

The gym doors creak when you push them open, the familiar smell of rubber flooring and faint cleaning chemicals greeting you. Inside the locker room, the air is humid, faintly tinged with the metallic scent of the showers. It’s quieter than you expected - too quiet. Your dress should be hanging where you left it, draped over the bench near the row of lockers. But as you approach, you immediately notice something’s wrong.

The dress isn’t where you left it. In its place is a crumpled towel, damp and slightly stained with what looks like spilled soda. Emmy notices too, her brow furrowing as she glances between you and the towel. "Did someone...move it?" she asks, her voice tinged with unease.

You scan the room, your instincts kicking in. A locker door a few rows over is slightly ajar, swinging lazily as if someone left it in a hurry. The faintest hint of laughter echoes down the hall outside the locker room - muffled and distant, but unmistakably mocking.

Emmy shifts nervously beside you, worry in her eyes. "What do we do now?"

When I realize my dress is gone, an indignant feeling rises in my chest. Stealing from a demigoddess is an unwise move. I mean, I guess what happened to Will isn't the best example of that considering it seems to have worked out pretty well for him, but that was different. He's Ares' son.

I look at Emmy, my eyes narrowed with anger. "We chase them down," I answer, and then I take off toward the sound of laughter. It may be too far away now for me to catch up, but I'm going to at least try. I need to know who to target with my magic later.

The laughter echoes in your ears, igniting a spark of indignation in your chest. Without a second thought, you bolt out of the locker room, your shoes pounding against the gym floor and through the double doors. The halls blur as you sprint toward the source of the sound, your pulse thrumming with determination. Whoever thought they could mess with you picked the wrong target.

You burst through the main doors and out into the parking lot, the afternoon sunlight glaring against the rows of cars. Your eyes scan the lot frantically, and there it is - a sleek, shiny new Lexus pulling away, tires crunching on the asphalt. The glint of the sun off the windshield almost blinds you, but you don’t miss the driver. Through the open window, you catch a flash of curly black hair, unmistakable even from this distance. Victoria Stokes. Of course, it’s her. Who else would pull a stunt like this?

"Jules, wait!" Emmy’s voice calls weakly behind you, strained and breathless. You glance back briefly to see her stumbling out of the gym, one hand clutching her side as she tries to keep up. Her face is flushed, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

But you can’t stop now. Not when you’re so close. The Lexus accelerates, the engine humming smugly as if mocking your inability to follow. Victoria’s silhouette in the driver’s seat is relaxed, her head tilting slightly as though she’s laughing. Still laughing. You clench your fists, your frustration boiling over. You could yell, but you doubt she’d hear - or care. Instead, you burn her image into your mind: the glossy curls, the perfect nails gripping the wheel, the self-satisfied smirk you know is plastered across her face.

Behind you, Emmy finally reaches your side, doubling over as she tries to catch her breath. "Was...was that...Victoria?" she pants, looking up at you with wide, worried eyes.

I glare at Victoria's car as she cruises off, wishing I had the ability to shoot lasers with my eyes and ignite her and her posh ride in flames.

"That hazmot," I mutter under my breath as she disappears from sight and Emmy catches up to me. I glare for another moment at the spot where Victoria went before turning to Emmy. "Yes. Yes, it was." I take a breath and let it out. "I'll deal with her later. I have a date to get to. You mind if I keep your..." I fight a wince, "...sweatshirt?"