Of all the agents of Light, I’d spent the most time around Tekla. She wasn’t comfortable with me at first, nor I with her. Though sparrow-slight, she was too powerful to induce relaxation, with a sense of the otherworldly about her that set her apart from even those in the Zodiac. As the purported Kairos, I’d been much the same. We were also mutually indebted to one another, having saved the other’s ass more than once.
So we were an unlikely pair, the Seer and the reluctant new Star Sign. I wondered now if she’d taken me under her wing because she’d seen Fate’s plans for me-my fall from the troop’s grace, my restored humanity, my lost loves-and wanted to prepare me, or maybe even provide a soft spot while she could. After all, with the murder of her son the year before, her mothering instincts had no obvious outlet, and I doubted it could just be turned off. Perhaps she saw me as the daughter she never had.
We had certainly butted heads like mother and daughter.
“Goddess damn!” she’d said once. “You’re birthing plant life from thought and giving it roots in the world. You’re not smashing sandcastles. Try to use a bit of finesse!”
And Tekla waved her hand over her own giant pot of soil, the gesture so elegant it was probably Kabukiinspired. I’d looked down at my pot and given it the middle finger. Tekla scowled.
“Well, maybe it’s the Shadow in me that keeps life from growing,” I said, shrugging. Bringing living things to life was a skill particular to the Light.
She’d lifted her sharp chin. “Maybe it’s stubbornness of spirit and a prideful mind.”
“Maybe it’s indigestion.”
But despite all the maybes, she did teach me. We spent hours in the sanctuary’s dojo together, sparring with our bodies and minds and words…and occasionally smiling. We never talked about our losses on or off the mats. I think we both dwelled on those too much when we were alone to indulge when there was a task at hand, and another person in view.
And then one day she took me into her astrolab. It was more geek dome than observatory, a den detailing her obsession with the stars, and piled high with the mathematical tools she used to read the sky. It may as well have been a space station on the moon for all I could tell. She’d dimmed the lights, and the night sky appeared above.
“Can you point out the twelve constellations that comprise the Zodiac?” she asked imperiously.
“No.”
“That’s okay. I only want to show you one.” She pointed to a constellation west of my own, Sagittarius. It looked like just another clump of stars to me. “This is Ophiuchus, and its brightest star is a white dwarf. It’s feeding on matter from its neighbor, a red giant, and quickly approaching its maximum possible size. It’s highly unstable.”
Like you, I remember thinking, as she craned her neck upward. “Maybe it should go on a diet.”
Tekla’s mouth firmed, but she otherwise ignored me. “It will go supernova soon. It will be a violent explosion, one that will outshine entire galaxies for a time.”
“‘Soon’ meaning thousands of years from now, right?”
She shrugged. “Or tomorrow.”
I’d eyed the star nervously because there was a reason she was telling me this. Tekla didn’t waste energy on trivialities.
“Don’t worry. It won’t affect earth in the least. And after it goes supernova, turning into the thing it was meant to be all along, all that will remain of it will be a little pulsar. Just another tiny neutron star freckling the face of the night sky.”
“So it just disappears?”
She shook her head. “It’s displaced, dispelled. The matter comprising it simply goes somewhere else, and all that work, all that energy and violence, really amounts to nothing.”
“So?”
“So it shows that against the palate of the universe, making an impact is easy. But making a difference…that’s what’s proven to be hard.”
And no matter how much I huffed, puffed, teased, and taunted, she’d refused to say more than that. Apparently I was supposed to look at ol’ Ophiuchus and be a Seer too.
Making an impact is easy. Making a difference is hard.
As Cher said, how profound. How telling that it could have such disparate meaning depending on who, Tekla or Xavier, was saying it.
“I have something too,” Suzanne said. Her cheerful voice was strained with the need to get this party back on track. I smiled, grateful for her concern, though it was unnecessary. I wasn’t Olivia, and held no soft spot for Xavier. She pulled a small jewelry box from her black clutch, handing it to me with a shy smile. “It’s a thankyou for throwing the rehearsal dinner tonight. Arun wanted to show his gratitude for allowing the wedding to be held at Valhalla too. We know how much work you’ve put into this.”
“It was no problem,” I murmured, taking the box. Open ing it, I found a bracelet in gold so yellow it was almost orange. It was studded with multicolored precious stones, obviously antique and very expensive.
“It’s called a hand flower. It’s been in Arun’s family for five generations.”
“I have the matching ring, see?” Cher clamored from the bed to join her mother and me at the mirror. “They’re kundans, one of the most popular motifs in Indian jewelry. Isn’t that right, Momma?”
Suzanne nodded. “Arun said they’re good luck. Protects against the evil eye.”
“Arun said that, did he?” I murmured.
I thought of Tekla giving me lessons and knowledge she thought would protect me, and of Caine, another Seer who gave me weapons and his body as armor. And now this woman-or more accurately, her wannabe babydaddy-was giving me a pretty, hopeful little bauble with mystical meaning from a country I’d never visit. I lifted the bracelet to the light.
“Why would Arun give these to me?”
“I told you. He’s grateful. And besides,” she said, eyes flicking to the photo Helen had tried to destroy me with.
“True friends are the families we choose.”
I looked at her for a long moment before pulling her into a hug I think surprised us both. Taking in the scents of expensive bath oil and custom perfume, I smiled against her hair. “Sometimes you are shockingly profound.”
She pulled back, eyes glistening as she smiled at me, then pulled Cher-the rest of my chosen family-into the hug. “Well,” she said modestly, “I’ve skimmed a lot of life-coaching articles in my day.”
It was perhaps the girliest moment of my life, but I didn’t mind so much. There was no one I had to defend myself from here.
“So. Shall we go celebrate?”
I nodded, then dumped the photo in my bag. I didn’t want to leave it behind and let Helen think she’d gotten to me, so I’d dispose of it outside of the mansion. I refused to let that woman make a difference or an impact on me.
Cher accompanied Suzanne downstairs to help attend to her adoring guests, Lindy left me alone, and Mackie wasn’t lurking behind my shower curtain. The night was looking up.
I made sure to don my “hand flower” bracelet, and joined them within the hour to find the secondary dining room transformed.
Into a gothic bordello.
Terry, winner of the now infamous treasure hunt, sidled up to me almost immediately.
“What’s all this?” I asked, gesturing at the unapologetic red and black scheme. Sure, the party was being held in
“my” house, but like all good social debs, I hadn’t a thing to do with the planning. Besides, if there was one thing that could give me away as Joanna Archer, it was my inability to juggle a menu and a seating arrangement.
“I know.” Terry had a camera in one hand, a red cocktail with an onyx-stemmed glass in the other, and was dressed in the basic black the invitations had requested. “It’s just one big juicy pot of pornography, right? Arun wanted to show off some of his more intricate textiles, and these are done in the colors of the family coat of arms.”