She’d reached to cover her ears but dropped her hands. “Please!” she begged. “Don’t kill me!” She felt lightheaded and started to slump in a faint, but her captor’s strong grip caught her arm. She heard a shuffling sound from behind, and feared an accomplice joining in on the catch.
Without letting go, her captor pulled her behind him and brandished his weapon in the direction of the shuffling. Roxie peered around his shoulder, level with her nose, and saw an aged man fidgeting under a tattered blanket. The hobo regarded both of them with a fearful expression. He raised his blanket to his chin and scrunched lower against the brick building. Roxie regarded her captor with equal fear, who then turned his head to check the intersection behind them. She noticed his eyes. They were glowing red.
His eyes glow too! She stared at them, unable to believe what she was seeing.
The big man released Roxie’s arm. “I’m not going to kill you,” he said in a voice that for some reason made Roxie feel safer. He secured his dagger in its sheath. “Is your arm all r—?” After taking a step back, he stood very still with his arms at his sides, and mouth barely open. He openly studied Roxie’s face.
Roxie gazed at the man’s face and watched his eyes lose their glow, just like she’d seen her own do countless times in the mirror. The first time she had seen her eyes glow was at age five, during a frightening thunderstorm. Her shocked grandmother had carted her to the bathroom to show Roxie her eyes. Young Roxie had blamed the glowing on the storm, despite what Grandma had said. Later on she learned the glow was linked to her emotions.
“Yeah, my eyes glow, too,” Roxie said. “Yours weren’t a trick of the street light or something, were they?” She sorely hoped not.
“No, mine work just like yours. Is your arm alright?”
Just like yours. This time Roxie’s mouth fell ajar. “No way!” She looked into the man’s deep blue eyes. “All this time… I’ve never seen… Man, I wish you could show me again. You don’t have any control over it either, do you?”
He shook his head. “It’s caused me problems sometimes,” he said with a rueful grin.
“Boy do I know that feeling.” Roxie had resorted to home schooling through eighth grade in order to spare herself, her peers and teachers, and Grandma a lot of awkward grief. She studied the stranger with the aid of a dim streetlight. The man was a half a head taller than she, bore a clean-shaven face and scalp, and had broad shoulders and lots of muscle. He wore a T-shirt, cargo pants and combat boots, all black, and he had a backpack and canteen slung over one shoulder. His belongings, along with the small sheath strapped to one arm, gave her the distinct impression that he wasn’t from her part of the world. But that didn’t matter. They were two of the same… something. “Are we aliens?”
“Pardon?”
“Aliens. You know: people from another planet.” As soon as Roxie said it, she realized how absurd she sounded. She felt her cheeks flush.
The man let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “No. We’re Aigis.”
“But you’re an alien, right?”
“No; just an Aigis.”
“Are you from Earth?”
“No.”
“Then that makes you an alien. What planet are you from? And why do you speak just like I do?”
The man laughed again. “I’ve learned how to quickly adapt to contemporary dialects. What’s your name?” Then, eyes widening as if he’d just remembered something, he took off his pack and laid it on the ground. He unzipped the side and started rummaging around.
“Rox, sir,” she replied. “And yours?”
“Aerigo.”
Interesting name. “What’s ‘Aigis’ mean?”
“Shield of the gods.”
Roxie stood dumbfounded, unsure how to interpret that information. “What’s that mean?”
“A lot of things. I’ve been looking for you for the past two weeks. I need your help.”
“Why?”
“I was instructed to find you and train you.”
“Really? By whom?”
“Someone named Baku. He’s our ally.”
“Bah-coo?”
“Correct.” Aerigo stood and turned to face Roxie, a glass bottle in his hand.
Eyeing the bottle, Roxie began to ask about what she needed to train for, but she cut herself off and instead said, “Wait! Two weeks?” That’s how long the pull in her mind had been bothering her. How much of a coincidence could it be if Aerigo had been looking for her just as long?
“Yes.”
“From which direction?” This was one of those dumb questions, but Roxie just had to know.
Aerigo glanced at the night sky. “Judging by your sun, I came from a generally eastern direction. I crossed an ocean people called ‘the Atlantic,’ or ‘el Atlantico.’”
Roxie then realized the mental pull was gone. Instead there was a sense of completion—not to mention relief. However, she took a couple of steps along the sidewalk, turned around, then braced herself as she walked back.
Nothing. She was free to walk wherever she wanted.
Aerigo looked at Roxie expectantly.
“For the past two weeks I’ve had this strange need to travel east. No clue why. And now that I’ve met you, it’s gone.”
Aerigo’s face brightened with recognition. “You were subconsciously guiding me to your location.”
Roxie gave him an unconvinced stare.
“It’s called magic,” he said. “Although—”
“Magic’s real?” Part of Roxie had often wanted magic to be real so she could magic her eyes into glowing and fading on command. Of course this never worked.
Aerigo gave the young woman a faint smile as he put the glass bottle on the ground and reached for his canteen. He unscrewed the cap and cupped his free hand, ready to catch the water as he upended the canteen. The water fell as Roxie expected, but as soon as it almost touched Aerigo’s palm it began to collect as if it had fallen into an invisible bowl.
Roxie’s eyes widened as Aerigo began to mold the liquid into the likeness of a rose. He let go of his canteen and held his other hand over the reshaping globe of water, slowly moving it up and down like a musical conductor measuring out beats. The water rose splayed over his cupped hand, and the petals shimmered like pool water in the middle of the afternoon. Roxie raised a finger, but restrained herself from touching it.
“Go ahead,” Aerigo said gently, letting his free hand relax. “It’s just water.”
Roxie reached for the nearest petal, which was as big as a half dollar, and tapped its fringe. She looked at her fingertip and saw a drop of water on it. She dipped a forefinger into the water rose and took it out again, noticing that the inside of the rose felt like a bubbling Jacuzzi. Again her finger remained unharmed. “Weird.”
Aerigo reached for his canteen as he turned the rose upside down, which began to dismember itself one petal at a time. Each piece congealed into a large drop and returned to the canteen. The big man screwed the cap back on. “Your turn.” He picked up the glass bottle and held it out to her. “Drink this.”
Roxie reached for the bottle, then stopped herself. “What is it?” She stared at the pale liquid. Even though she felt kindred toward Aerigo and his glowing eyes, she couldn’t ignore being trained to avoid accepting gifts from strangers.
Aerigo looked at the bottle. “Being able to do magic is supposed to be normal for you.”
“And that drink will make me normal?” It was more a statement than a question.
“Essentially, yes.”
Roxie bit her lower lip, folded her arms and stared at the bottle. For some reason the thought of drinking it frightened her. It would change the life she was familiar with, as lonely as it had sometimes been. Already things weren’t the same because she’d met Aerigo, but she was still herself. On the other hand, being able to do magic would be the coolest thing in the world.