Chapter 10
Riot had left by the time I got back to the apartment and I showered and dressed for work quickly, frowning a little as I pulled on my agathos-approved tan pleated skirt, white sweater, and light denim jacket.
Would it really be so bad if I wanted to dress a little differently sometimes?
Would Anesidora really care if I wore ripped skinny jeans instead of knee-length skirts?
I couldn’t quite suppress the blasphemous thought that if she cared that much about my clothes, she could be focusing on more important things instead.
Maybe later, I’d feel guilty about not silently apologizing for that thought.
For not redirecting it in a more grateful, kind direction, but the self-censoring was just so exhausting .
Riot’s pessimism was rubbing off on me.
It was an overcast day, and the orange brick facade of Hope House looked particularly grim and foreboding as I made my way up the concrete stairs to the entrance, my heeled ankle boots clicking loudly with each step. How could I feel so fulfilled by my job and so wary at the same time?
The answer made itself known the moment I entered the foyer.
“Ah, finally,” Constance snapped, wrapping a bony hand around my upper arm and practically dragging me past the reception desk towards the common room.
“What is it?” I asked, stumbling slightly in my bid to keep up with her. Sugar, this woman walked fast.
“New guest. They’re down on their luck. ”
My heart dropped as we paused at the entrance to the common room and Constance tipped her chin at a young man slumped in the bright blue armchair in the corner, looking desolate and more than a little hungover.
It wasn’t unusual for Constance to seek me out to use my gift. If I’d come across him in the waiting room, I’d have felt compelled to help him anyway, but I had been hoping to avoid any bad luck while I was harboring a daimon in my house.
The grumpy monster in my head reminded me that I was never good enough to work with the guests until someone needed a lot of help.
Then, suddenly, I was the best option for the job because no one wanted to pay the price themselves by using their gifts, even if their skills were better suited to the situation than mine.
I could taste the bitterness of my own thoughts on my tongue.
“Jordan,” Constance cooed, using the voice she saved especially for Hope House’s guests. It never failed to grate on my nerves. “This is Grace, who I was telling you about. She’s just going to sit with you for a while. Why don’t you tell her about your art?”
A little of Anesidora’s magic threaded through her voice, relaxing Jordan and making him more open to accepting my help.
Constance angled me into the chair next to his and practically shoved me into it, shooting me a tight smile before excusing herself. I awkwardly pulled off my jacket and set my bag down next to me, trying to hide my irritation that Constance hadn’t even given me a moment to put my things away.
I startled as I noticed two other people across the room who hadn’t been visible from the doorway.
It wasn’t unusual to see people in the common room, even non guests sometimes when we were trying to find somewhere else that could take them.
It was strange to see a child here though. Hope House only housed adults.
The woman’s misery was so tangible, I could feel it thick in the air like smoke. This was someone who needed luck, but I couldn’t walk away from Jordan either. I could feel his sadness too, and this is where Constance had instructed me to be.
Jordan shoved his dirty blonde hair out of his eyes before tugging his oversized gray sweater back down over his hands, and I reluctantly gave him my full attention. He fidgeted with a frayed hole in his dark jeans, staring unseeing at the floor between his feet.
He would talk. Perhaps he would take some time to open up—naturally reserved humans took longer—but eventually his woes would come spilling out, because that’s what we were here for. I existed to listen to their problems, to take their pain, to give them a leg up.
“My parents kicked me out,” Jordan said eventually, still looking at the floor. “They don’t respect my art,” he added with a sneer.
I nodded silently. That was unfortunate.
“They just blacklisted me from my own fucking life, just like that. My friends can’t hang out with me because their parents are friends with my parents.
I was supposed to start college this month, but they’re not going to pay for my housing anymore.
I mean, I have a scholarship, but how am I supposed to live, you know? ”
I listened quietly as Jordan went on to tell me about how he’d just taken some pills to dull the pain, and how he’d fallen asleep in the park and had been mugged in his sleep, and my heart did go out to this poor kid who had been thrown out with nothing, and had never existed in the real world on his own before.
At the same time, he’d come from the kind of privileged life that I’d come from, and usually I tried to bestow large quantities of luck on those who hadn’t had the kinds of advantages he’d had.
It was one of the many reasons Constance didn’t like me—she was an elitist, no matter if it was human or agathos she was speaking to.
Her version of who was deserving was very different from my own.
She barely used her gift anymore anyway.
Hers was wisdom—the most common agathos trait, two of my fathers held it too.
She had a way of knowing things that she could impart on humans, giving them advice that could change their life, though it was at the cost of her own knowledge.
Things would just disappear from her memory each time she imparted help.
Constance would have felt the same urge to help Jordan that I felt, but she seemed to justify denying that urge by delegating to other agathos instead of taking the burden on herself.
The woman opposite me shushed the girl who was getting excited watching whatever was on the television, climbing out of her chair to jump around on the floor. It was a rare spark of joy in this place.
I forced myself to pay attention to Jordan again, my palms itching, ready to reach out and give him a little luck. He was so young, and so lost. He had his whole life ahead of him if only he got on the right path now.
But the little girl opposite me was even younger—perhaps around eight years old—her hair braided into elaborate twists around her head, and matching unicorn jumper and leggings a little worse for wear.
Her mother looked exhausted, slumped in the chair with her eyes fluttering closed occasionally before she caught herself, blinking rapidly to wake herself up.
I could help them all, I resolved. I had to. I doubted I’d be able to walk away even if I wanted to. Constance had probably known that when she left me in here with all of them.
Barely aware of how little I could afford bad luck right now, I took Jordan’s hand and rested my other one on top, and began reciting my generic speech of feel good platitudes I’d had memorized since I’d learned to talk, distracting him with words to keep his hand in place as the magic passed from my hands to his.
Tapping into this well of luck was the only time I truly felt connected to Anesidora. Eutychia felt like liquid sunshine flowing through my veins, and in those all too brief moments, I really felt like a child of the Sender of Gifts.
I cut it off while I still felt like I had plenty to spare, finishing up my speech about finding hope in dark places before tapping the back of Jordan’s hand awkwardly and pulling my hands away.
He blinked slowly, pushing himself to standing, brow furrowed. “I think I’m going to go for a walk.”
“That’s a great idea,” I encouraged gently. He had a little luck, now he just needed to follow his instincts. Perhaps he’d find a job while on his walk, or bump into an old friend willing to let him crash at their place for a while.
“Thanks,” he muttered absently, already halfway out the door with luck running through his veins.
One down, one to go.
I glanced nervously at the door, not hearing Constance’s thundering footsteps yet, and hoped my bad luck could hold off until I’d finished this.
“Hello,” I said softly, sitting next to the mother who glanced up at me in surprise, totally lost in her own world. “My name is Grace, I work here at Hope House. I just wanted to check on you, see if you needed anything.”
“I’m Angel,” the little girl said confidently, shooting me a beaming smile. “Can you find us somewhere to stay? The mean lady said we can’t stay here. I don’t like her.”
“Angel,” her mother sighed, gently chastising her. I bit down my urge to agree with Angel. I didn’t like Constance either. Which was not at all a gracious thought. Bad, internal monster.
“I will check on how they’re doing out front finding you somewhere,” I replied diplomatically.
“Are you doing okay?” I asked the mother, using the Anesidora-infused tone that made humans more amenable to help as I rested my hand over hers, but I probably didn’t need to.
The woman looked like she really needed someone to talk to who wasn’t her child.
She looked at me with wide eyes for a moment, like nobody had ever asked her that question, then the words started to spill out. I lowered the walls around my well of magic and let it drain completely into the woman sitting in front of me while she talked.