Chapter Text
The coffee shop was nearly empty by the time Eritta Domian looked up and realized: she was going to be late. Homework had taken up too much attention, and her latest round of trying to figure out how to buy health insurance had driven her to a second blended macchiato.
Phone out, dial aunt Rachel – praise whatever instinct had caused her to look up five minutes before she was expected home. One minute late and her aunt tended to get restless. Ten minutes and she paced. An hour usually meant panic attacks.
“Eritta?” Rachel picked up the phone out of breath and high pitched. “Oh my god you’re all right?”
That was odd. Eritta checked the coffee shop clock again, then her phone’s clock. No, she was definitely calling five minutes before she’d intended to be home. Why did aunt Rachel sound so frightened? “I’m fine, Auntie. Studying just ran late is all.”
“Oh thank god,” Rachel whispered, and it sounded for all the world like she was crying. “Be careful on your way home, Eritta. Extra careful. Promise me. Please?”
Sometimes Auntie was like this, but Eritta couldn’t remember if it had always been this way or if it was new since Eritta’s mother and father died. Ben, her cousin, claimed it wasn’t new, but her other cousin dismissed them both. Of course she’s worried about you, he would say, you’re both so irresponsible.
Eritta let out a breath and gathered her patience. “I will, Auntie. Are you ok? Something happen?”
“No, no, sweetie. I just woke up from a nap and thought it was later than it was…” Rachel said, and Eritta could hear her sitting on the creaky stairs of the suburban house they’d barely stayed in for years, practically felt her lay her head on the rail slats which looked over the living room as she rested against them.
She opened her mouth to reassure Rachel that it was fine. Breath started to move in her throat, but suddenly Rachel’s voice rang clear across the line as if she were at Eritta’s ear.
“Eritta. You know I love you, right? We all do.”
Ben said she was like this sometimes when she was half asleep; oddly direct, lucid, but somehow entirely checked out. Ben was mama’s boy. Eritta hadn’t come to live with her aunt, uncle, and cousins until she was 14. She’d never seen, heard, or been the subject of it.
I just listen, Ben said, I think sometimes she just needs to talk. She’s so… complicated. I really don’t understand why she stays with dad now that we’re all grown.
“I want you to be happy, Eritta. I know your uncle and I can’t give you much. I wish I could protect you from… fate. But I can’t. I know that…” the sound on the line this time was definitely a sob.
Eritta gulped. “Auntie-,” Eritta started over the phone, but Rachel interrupted her.
“I want you to be happy, Eritta. So if you ever don’t want to come home, or if something keeps you away, it’ll be ok. I’ll still love you. I’ll still want you to be happy.”
“Auntie...” Eritta murmured, somewhat touched. It was a confusing declaration, but it felt affirming. What had gotten into her? “I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
“But you’ll have to take your place in the world sometime. I’m just grateful we kept you for this long.” Rachel swallowed, “I never had a daughter. I can’t claim your mother’s place, but I still want you to be happy. You’ll have to be brave, Eritta. Don’t be afraid to take help, but make room for people when the time is right. Ok?”
“Auntie, I-,” the line went dead.
Eritta looked down at her phone, shock spreading through her fingers as the words thank you dried to unspoken diamonds. Then she tapped the screen on, texting her cousin.
E: Hey, could u call ur mom? I think she just had one of those sleeping episodes on me and hung up.
B: Wow. You’ve achieved true child status. I got you.
E: Thx. I’m omw home now, but it’ll be half an hour.
There was no answer. Ben had probably already called the house, then. Eritta let out her breath and packed her bag. True child status? Not really what she’d been angling for, but it felt like something had finally fallen into place.
As she hefted her bag onto her back, Eritta shook her head. The sooner she got home the sooner she could figure out what the heck had spooked Rachel so badly. She waved to the barista and slipped out the back door into the hallway which led to the restrooms and the ally which led to the tiny, cheap parking lot her parent’s old Hyundai was in.
The sun was gold reflected off Chicago’s myriad limestone buildings, and Eritta squinted at the banging as she half swung open the door, peering down the ally-way she could see, suddenly remembering Rachel’s panicked pleading to be careful. It was the wrong part of town for anything more dangerous than a drunk, but half a second to look around was never a bad thing.
Footsteps and panting came from the side of the door she couldn’t see, and before Eritta could retreat, a man dressed in simple clothes appeared and grabbed her wrist.
There was a whistling. There was no time to gasp or shout. The man threw the door open the rest of the way, grabbing her close to his chest and curling around her. There was an enormous whoosh. Around the door a gout of flame spat out as if shot by a firehose.
Panic hadn’t even had time to set in before the man struck the door, and a bright white flash knocked it off it’s hinges and down the ally the way he’d come.
And then he swung her around by the shoulders, placing her in front of him. “Stop!” he shouted. “There’s someone-!”
It had all happened in the space of a breath. She hadn’t even gotten a good look at his face, or seen what – who? – was chasing him. The door clattered to the asphalt and the fire evaporated. Her vision went white with pain.
One of her arms simply lost purchase and slumped down. There was a shout, this time indignant. It was her side – her side hurt. Her right arm couldn’t move. It didn’t feel like a crushing pain. Was it a bullet? This had to be what being shot felt like, right?
By the time she was able to focus again, she was on the ground, half out of her backpack, staring up at two figures on either side of her. The white guy was wearing what looked like warm, woolen pants and a belted tunic. The other wore black and red robes, maybe middle eastern or Indian? Her fashion sense was terrible.
She took a breath, and her vision blurred again. What was happening? Her ears roared so loudly she couldn’t even make out what the two men were arguing about. There was a warmth and a tingling at her side. Finally, the roaring in her ears abated enough to hear the Indian man speak in a deep, booming bass, lightly accented with something she’d never heard, even in downtown Chicago.
“Didn’t you ward as you went?”
The white man in wool had his hands on her side and he was frowning. “Of course I did. Didn’t you?”
Her chest was tight, and while it didn’t hurt, the numbness was maddening, nearly stealing her breath but not quite.
“Naturally. We should take her to a hospital here.”
“They couldn’t possibly treat a wound like this. Look, she’s already leaking through the aid.”
It was like they thought she couldn’t understand them, or maybe they didn’t care? There were black sparkles at the edge of her vision and for the first time it occurred to her that maybe she was injured enough to die. She gasped for air and her side finally twinged enough to convince her she was alive.
“Are you stupid? Look at the buildings. Of course they have medicine.”
“Yudhisthir, they don’t have magic. She’d bleed out if I took the aid off.”
He said it mildly, as if they hadn’t been locked in deadly combat not a minute before. The other man replied exactly in kind. “This is an isolation world, Cierlan.”
“Maybe she won’t want to.” Cierlan replied with a slight smile. He held up a hand which was… glowing? “She’s ether receptive.” He didn’t even spare her a glance as he held out a finger dipped in red. Eritta went cold. Blood. Her blood. Enough that he’d dipped his finger in it! Was she dying? Oh god, no… she didn’t want to die, not yet.
Yudhisthir frowned, reached out, and took the drop, staring for a moment, and then his hand lit up just like Cierlan’s had, like his hand had suddenly been dipped in the liquid of a white glowstick. It dissipated just as quickly and he let out a breath, looking back her with the same, small frown. It was the first time either of them had met her eyes, and his were black and filled with a strange poise, like an ancient tree filled with embers that had burned for many years, it was still welcome to be acknowledged at all.
“Help her catch her breath,” Yudhisthir said.
She hadn’t been able to make so much as moan before, too out of breath and too frightened, but when Cierlan laid a hand on her back there was a crackle in one lung, an expansion, and a shot of pain. She tried to flinch, but nothing moved, and instead a shriek of pain she’d never heard from her own lips escaped. But then Yudhisthir was in front of her and the pain subsided. He took her hand, searching her eyes as if to be sure that she was lucid, and finally nodded. “What is your name?”
She drew a breath experimentally. It hurt, but unlike the numb, at least it made her believe she was alive. “Eritta.”
Yudhisthir nodded. “Eritta. You’ve been injured. I’m sorry. I did not intend that spell for you.” His eyes seemed to shift to the man beside her. “If you think an Earth hospital is best, we will take you there. But we also can take you to one of our hospitals, where you will certainly be healed with no lasting effects, and we will pay for whatever care is needed, as well as bring you home again.”
“Or let you stay,” the man beside her quipped. “The least we can do.”
So she was injured badly enough to need a hospital? She didn’t dare look, but there was a blotch of red growing in her sparkling peripherals, and her vision was narrowing despite the barely-there pain. It was hard to think, so she tried to order her thoughts the way Ben said he did. What were the three biggest priorities and how did each option meet those priorities?
Life. Money. Who these men were.
A hospital here in Chicago would probably save her. Probably. But it would cost her, or her aunt and uncle, an arm and a leg – giddly, she recalled their deductible was ten thousand dollars – funny that she was dying and could remember that ridiculous thing! Where was she going to get that kind of money on top of the mortgage they could hardly keep up on? And finally, it wouldn’t answer who the men were.
But the second option would satisfy all three.
“Go with you,” she whispered. “I have to.”
“You realize we’re not from Earth?” Yudhisthir asked, his frown growing deeper. “You may find it shocking.”
“Yes. It’s not a choice,” Eritta said, shaking her head. The movement worked a muscle in her back which jumped and screamed. She gasped.
The pain was cut off like a bad haircut, and numbness returned her to half-breathlessness as Cierlan’s hand landed on her shoulder. So the numbing was his doing. “I told you they couldn’t heal for shit here,” Cierlan said, and picked her up beneath the shoulders and the knees. It was only then that he finally looked her in the face, smiling widely. He had light blue eyes and shaggy blonde hair. “You poor thing. Yudhisthir making you go through that pain and you ended up agreeing.”
“At least I will know it was what she decided.” Yudhisthir rumbled, and turned to her, drawing a vial of lavender liquid from his robes. “This will put you to sleep, Eritta. My sister uses it nightly, it is very gentle. I think it will be easier for you to be asleep than numb, yes?”
She nodded so quickly that her muscles pulled again, and Yudhisthir held it out. His hands were so gentle and careful, as if she were a sparrow drinking from his cup, where Cierlan’s gripped her tightly like he was trying to lock down a griffin. Yudhisthir nodded. “Come,” he said, “I know a reasonable place on Tagune where she will be well-treated.” As she swallowed the vial’s contents, her entire body sagged.
Aunt Rachel had even told her to be careful.