She’d always been given time to rest before. Time to heal, to train.
She wanted a black coffee more than anything else in the worlds.
Eli shook her head and then tied her hair back. This wasn’t the time for questions. They never give you time to question, a voice in her head reminded her. She dug her nails into her palm and took a deep breath in. Then out. You’re not a child anymore, and this isn’t a fairytale. This is your life. You have accepted it.
It was time.
Again.
Eli unfolded the glamour that Circinae had left on the steps. She must have finished knitting it while Eli was with Kite. She slid it over her skin, the magic sticky and hot. A sensation like pins and needles tingled along her limbs as she settled into it. This glamour made her appear shorter and curvier, with longer hair and dark eyes, dressed in greys and blacks. Heavy eyeliner. Goth chic. The only concession Circinae had made was keeping her glasses as they were. Eli loved her frames.
She opened her body to the universe, to the winds that blew between worlds. The shifting, glittering tunnel of dark appeared before her. She was like an ant on a giant pile of black sand. Closing her eyes, clutching the pendant that hung around her throat, Eli stepped into the heart of the wild.
Eli stumbled out of the Vortex and fell onto the cement in a heap, hair tangled and matted. It had been wilder this time, tearing at her hair and clothes, trying to shake her loose. She had almost been thrust out several times. She wondered what would have happened if it had spat her out earlier — would she have fallen up or down? Could a girl made of spiderweb and glass break like a human of flesh and bone? She felt the beginning of bruises on her knees and elbows and suspected the answer was yes.
“Are you okay?”
Eli looked up. Someone was looking down at her. They were Black with short, spiky purple hair and golden-brown eyes. Eli was stunned. She wasn’t supposed to be noticed by humans.
The frost blade bit into her thigh. She winced. “Bad girl,” she muttered, adjusting the hilt.
“What?” They were wearing black skinny jeans and a leather jacket. Both ears were covered in silver earrings that caught the light. Eli had a sudden urge to bite the highest ring.
“I said I’m fine.” Eli stood up and wiped the dirt off her torn jeans. A hand reached over and brushed some gravel off her shoulder. Eli flinched.
“Sorry! Just trying to help.” Their eyes were still watching her. Eli wondered if her lipstick was smudged or if there were vulture feathers in her hair.
“I don’t need your help,” Eli snapped. She should have flashed a smile, made some excuse, and walked away, but she felt off her game.
And the purple spikes reminded her of a sea urchin.
“Sorry,” they repeated. They were looking at her with curiosity, eyes mapping the smudged glasses and dirty fingernails, the bruised knee and ripped jeans. Their look was electric. Eli felt the hair on her arms stand up. She wasn’t used to being stared at. She was a shadow, a nightmare, death in dark corners. She was a daughter of the Coven.
“It’s fine,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”
The thorn blade pricked through her jeans. Eli clenched her jaw.
“You hurt? You get hit by a car or something?”
“Something like that. I’m okay.”
They didn’t leave. They smelled like flower petals and gasoline. The spikes reminded her of home.
“Where you headed? I can give you a ride.”
That’s when Eli noticed the bike: a gleaming black-and-chrome motorcycle with thick, muscular wheels. Wide leather seats. The green outline of a mermaid spray-painted on the fender.
“Is that yours?” Eli wanted to touch it.
Purple Hair grinned. “Yep. And I have a spare helmet.”
“Why are you offering to help me?” No one helped anyone for free. There was always a cost. Unconsciously, Eli touched the pendant that hung around her neck.
The stranger shrugged. “You seem lost. And you look familiar — did we meet at Pride last year?”
“No.”
“Well, I’ve definitely seen you around town. I’m Tav.” Tav tugged off a leather glove and held out their hand.
She shook Tav’s hand. Static electricity crackled where their fingers brushed against one another. Eli’s palm came away warm, a tendril of smoke curling into the air from the friction.
What was happening? Could Tav feel it, too? If they did, they didn’t show it, just slid their glove back on in one fluid movement.
“I don’t remember seeing you.” Eli curled her hand into a fist.
“What? But I’m so memorable!” Tav threw on a look of mock horror. “Stunningly gorgeous, notorious bad boy. Or bad girl, depending on who you’re asking.” They winked at Eli. “This city doesn’t get people like me.”
“This city doesn’t get people like me, either,” Eli murmured, head reeling from Tav’s introduction.
“I kind of figured. You seem like a bit of a loner.”
“I’m shy.”
Tav raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem shy. Pissed off, maybe.”
“I’m not interested in making friends.”
Eli wondered why she was being so honest. It was true: she was often lonely, but her brief visits to the human world were always for reconnaissance, training, or assassination. It would never be her home, so why try? Witch tools didn’t have friends.
Circinae had often disciplined her for not doing a better job cultivating a network of human contacts she could exploit to do her job. But Eli worked best alone, and she didn’t need any humans hanging around asking questions or reminding her that she didn’t belong. Instead, she’d worked on becoming a shadow, on slipping in and out of rooms and crowds unnoticed. She’d practised using her knives. She told herself these were the skills that mattered.
Besides, she had Kite. That had to be enough. Once she had wanted —
But she was older now. She understood her place.
“That’s too bad. Think of all the rides you missed out on.”
Tav was smiling at her. The sun glinted off the black helmet cradled in their arm. Eli felt her heart move strangely, like a fish newly released into the ocean. The light caught the hilt of the frost blade and burst across her vision. Eli wondered if the blade was as excited as she was, or if it knew something she didn’t.
In a moment of human spontaneity, Eli did the first truly rebellious thing she had ever done: she decided to trust them.
“Guess we should start making up for it then.”
Tav blinked in surprise and then laughed. “I agree completely. Here.” They handed Eli their spare helmet. “Safety first.”
The idea of being safe was so absurd to Eli that she started laughing and couldn’t stop, even as she snapped on her helmet and climbed up behind Tav.
“Crazy girl,” said Tav. It sounded like a compliment. “Where are we going?”
Her cold thighs against Tav’s warm body. The smell of metal and dish soap and peonies. Eli’s heart was racing dangerously fast, and she wondered if this was better than the thrill of the hunt or the burn of caffeine.
“Anywhere,” said Eli.
Tav revved the engine, and they tore off down the city streets.