Chapter I
Mariam Leaven is a strong, independent young witch; this much is for sure.
This is what she has to remind herself of when she peers out of the metaphysical shop’s windows at the downpour drenching everything the little evil raindrops can touch.
Of course, it’s on the one day she decided not to check the weather report, has no umbrella or even a hooded jacket…
and still has multiple errands to run. With a long, miserable sigh through her nose, she returns to picking up the small bucket of kaolin clay for her poultices, a new Tarot deck as a treat for herself, and a few new books on modern witchcraft before paying and heading right on out into the rain.
The ding of the bell on the glass front door is drowned out by the water droplets splattering the pavement.
Mariam can’t hear much of anything over it, and worse yet, she is almost immediately drenched.
She tucks her books under her thick sweater, hoping the bag will keep them dry.
In seconds, her sweater is heavy and swollen with water, and her jeans make a terrible sloshing noise as she runs down the street to the parking garage.
She thinks quickly enough to lay down an errant plastic bag from her back seat onto the seat of the driver’s side and another partially over its back.
She lets out another sigh, this one of relief, as she pulls out the books and finds them still dry.
With the books removed, the sweater suctions cold and tight to her skin.
Flipping down the visor to peer into its mirror, Mariam confirms one thing: with her sopping wet clothes, mousy brown hair slicked to her skull, and pale face, she looks like a drowned rat. Perfect, she muses sarcastically, exactly what I want to look like when I still have shit to do.
With yet another loud sigh, she presses the back of her head against the headrest for a long moment, her blue-gray eyes closed tightly, before she finally shifts forward and starts her car. She will simply have to deal with it.
~§~
The easiest part of the day is the post office visit.
No one seems to care that she’s soaked to the bone as she packages the colorful scarves for her long-distance friends Collin, Morgan, Chelsea, and Jeremy.
Nor do they bat an eye as she drips her way over to pay to send them off.
No, that all goes fine. It only truly becomes misery when she has to squelch her way through the mall, drawing the eyes of judgmental teenagers and nosy kids.
At least she’s able to pick up a nice, warm, cream sweater for her mother; fall is coming, and her mother is getting on in years.
Her bones aren’t what they used to be. She also stops in at a bookstore and picks up a romance novel for her older sister Dotty.
The grocery shopping is only marginally unpleasant due to the coolness of the store.
By the time Mariam makes it back out to her car, she’s half-frozen; the cookies and cream ice cream certainly won’t be eaten tonight.
She half-smiles at that thought, as storefronts blurrily smear through the corners of her eyes while she drives down the road.
Peering through the rain, she spots a small coffee shop only a small ways away…
She parks her car in front of an alley near the cafe.
The rain has mostly let up by this point, but she is still so cold, like her body is half-morphed into a popsicle.
Surely a hot coffee will do her some good.
She turns off the car, grabs her wallet, slides her phone and car keys into her sodden pockets, and heads for the entrance.
The white brick front is rather inviting, and seeing the cute dried dwarf sunflowers and lavender cut-out decorations amidst the dark wood tables and chairs only furthers the charm.
Her smile growing, Mariam enters the cafe with a little chime from an overhead intercom, drawing attention from the front counter.
The attendant looks up, her red hair bouncing as she does, and offers a cheerful smile.
“Hey, there! Looks like the rain gotcha a lil’ bit. Here to warm up?”
Mariam chuckles softly. “Something like that. Can I get a vanilla cap? With one Sweet ‘n’ Low, please.”
“Sure thing! Want any food or anything else to go with that?” the server asks as she turns away, busying herself with the machinery behind her.
“Nah, I would hate a soaked croissant, too,” Mariam jokes, turning her attention to her wallet. She rifles through for her card, then returns her attention to the server, who seems to be finishing up her drink with a milk foam. “Must be nice working inside on a day like this, huh?”
“For sure,” she agrees as she turns, smiling again as she sets the cappuccino down on the counter.
She types on the register, and the screen facing Mariam lights up with her drink and price: two bucks flat.
Not too shabby. “Paying with card? Lemme set that up for you.” She types something else and the reader wakes up.
Mariam swipes her card, inputs her PIN, and puts her card back as the server finishes. “Thanks.”
“You’re all set, and no problem. Take care, now!”
“Yeah, you, too.” She grabs her warm cup and heads back out into the still drizzling rain.
She hums and inhales the smell of rich coffee and the soft notes of vanilla, but pauses as she reaches the edge of the building.
A foreboding wave slithers down her spine.
Then, a bitter taste reaches her mouth: magic.
A magic she doesn’t recognize. It feels simultaneously animalistic and refined.
Mariam has encountered wild magic, like a warlock might have, but this is intertwined with something completely alien to her, something which strikes her as elegant.
Her own magic flares defensively in response, encircling her with a near-transparent yellowish bubble. Now, what the hell is that?
She scans the dark road carefully, the opposite sidewalks now lit by an eerie yellow glow. She doesn’t see another living soul. No one lurking in the shadows, at least not that she can see.
Then she hears a low groan, and then the sharp, metallic smell of blood, a lot of blood, hits her nose.
Taking a deep breath through her mouth, she turns the corner and finds the crumpled form of another woman midway down the alley she parked in front of.
Mariam is almost positive she wasn’t there when she got out of the car.
Her skin is split open in places with long, blistering gashes, her clothes also hanging off of her in tatters.
Mariam honestly can’t tell if the clothes or her skin are in a worse state. She emits another low groan.
Mariam freezes. As a nature witch, it is in her practice to help those in need.
All things in nature must work together in harmony and rely on each other.
But the sheer, raw magic pouring off the woman scares her more than a little.
Clearly this is some kind of supernatural case, not something she should involve ordinary people in by calling an ambulance or anything like that.
What she should probably do is alert the Reapers…
but that seems like a bad idea. The Reapers are trained to help in situations like this, but their primary job is to hunt supernaturals that pose a threat to humanity.
She’d like to believe they’d see this woman isn’t a threat and get her the help she needs, but she’s heard enough horror stories about them to give her pause.
If she gets the wrong Reaper involved, who knows…
maybe something very bad could happen to this woman.
Still, it would be best to have professional support in a situation like this. But something in her gut is telling her to help this woman immediately, a loud part of her who insists she should remember her vows. She can only imagine what this poor woman has gone through.
Mariam takes a deep, calming breath. Yes. Yes, she will help her… because she hopes that, in the same situation, someone would help her, too.