Heartshadow (Chapter 2)

Wist was examining the band on the counter between them when he paused to receive a customer. Tapping her toes against the side of the counter, Nama slouched in wait on one of the shiny red bar stools Wist had recently installed.

Handing the tourist their order and change a moment later with a chirpy farewell that sang of artificial sweetener, he put a finger on the bracelet.

"This isn't Ma's," he told Nama in his normal bittersweet voice with a shrug. "I guess someone else lost their marriage band, too."

"And they didn't ask me to find it?" she pointed out skeptically. Everyone knew Nama could find nearly anything they wanted back with enough time. Or she could, before today. Returning to the skitter den was off the menu for the foreseeable future. With a weary hand, she swept the band back into her bag, "Well, I'll just hold onto it until I find out who it belongs to."

Wist had sharp eyes better suited to a falcon than a person. That's why she wasn't surprised when he took a second look at her and demanded, "Did something else happen out there?"

Now that she knew for certain it wasn't a nightmare, Nama blew out a sigh and confessed, "I might be cursed?"

Her tone curved upward into a question against her will. Today had taken the rug from beneath her feet and pinned her to the floor with it. Even the word curse held a malice she wasn't sure she'd done anything to deserve. Yes, she sometimes walked away with people's knickknacks but she always brought them back. Only the pie incident really haunted her to this day and she didn't think Elder Ides was planning to curse her without evidence. In fact, she didn't think Elder Ides even could. As far as she knew, no one who lived in town full time could use magic.

And out of town? She'd never been out of town.

"Give me a little more detail than that," Wist leaned forward, resting thick forearms on the counter and raising his bushy brows entreatingly. "Maybe I can even help."

"I doubt it," Nama snorted. He knew even less about magic than she did, considering who her friends were. "I'll be fine, though; I'm going to ask the Witches about it as soon as I can."

Relaxing a little, Wist's thin lips curved into a smirk, "You would know when they're coming in next, wouldn't you?"

Automatically, Nama bristled at the insinuation, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Fan or no, most people didn't know anything about the personal lives of Stardust or the Witches. His words punctured right through the polite fiction that separated their secret identities from the world. Revealing it wouldn't be a huge deal in Nama's opinion, but Jerri always stuck fast to the secrecy. It wasn't Nama's secret so it wasn't supposed to be her choice to end it. And now Wist may have been dangling that choice over a precipice.

"Oh nothing. You know you run around with the Witches without a costume of your own, right?" Wist rolled a crumb along the counter, looking up through his lashes knowingly. "And of course, there's only so many pretty women in town with long blue hair and little spots of white. That fact narrows it down a bit, too."

"Jerri's just a fan of Stardust," Nama protested, pushing away from the counter and making to stand, heart in her throat. "It's a really common trend in the city."

"Uh-huh," Wist flicked the crumb away, leaving the wooden counter bare. "I'm sure them both popping in on separate occasions for a maple doughnut with cinnamon sugar, paprika, and some apple slices is sheer coincidence, too, then."

Oh, dammit. That was the real reason Wist was bringing it up. For him, Jerri's identity as Stardust was already set in stone. Nama couldn't believe Jerri was about to be unmasked because of her horrible taste in and out of costume, yet here they were. Then again, she could hardly believe Jerri hadn't been revealed just from her hair before the trend caught on. Convincing her to dye it or wear a wig had been an exercise in frustration that she'd abandoned early on.

Still, if Jerri discovered Nama didn't even try to cover this up... She couldn't imagine going back to the days Jerri wasn't her friend.

"Wist, you can't tell anyone," Nama hissed and he held his hands up placatingly.

"I like the Witches," he retorted. "I'm not telling anyone, but as one of your oldest friends, I'd appreciate an invite sometime you're roaming with the Witches." He flexed one arm, "These muscles aren't just for show, you know. I practice the sword when I'm not sharing my gorgeous face with the townsfolk for free."

"Sure," Nama agreed quickly. The words caught up with her and she frowned, pointing at Wist accusingly, "When did you start training and why didn't you tell me?"

"I've been training to fight since before you were born," Wist reached over the counter and tousled her hair to no effect. It was too snarled by now to make a difference. His voice lilted up teasingly as he gestured for a new customer to wait a moment, "You don't know everything about me, Nama."

That was true enough. It wasn't as if he had to tell Nama every time he picked up a new hobby. She'd just thought she'd have known about something this time consuming. Rather than the town busybody, Nama preferred to think of herself as the village informant. Knowing what was going on with everybody could help out a lot when Jerri and her friends rolled into town looking for clues or a suspect.

"You any good?" she bit back the light discontent that flavored the words to mix in a smirk instead. "I mean, since you've just been practicing in the village what kind of practical experience have you really had?"

Wordlessly, Wist waved a hand at the scars on the left half of his face and down below the counter, presumably at his legs.

Nama was not going to blush. Being attacked once did not mean he had experience fighting and she was not going to apologize-

"Sorry," she turned her head away to disguise the heat that definitely wasn't embarrassment showing in her cheeks.

He stuck his tongue out at her, "You're literally the worst, huh?"

"I'm sorry!" she wailed, only half-joking as she threw her head down on the counter, covering it with both arms to hide from the situation.

"There, there," he patted the top of her pile of shame with a smug hand. "You'll just have to keep an eye out next time for obstacles to making sure your argument doesn't run away from you."

"Please stop, I'm sorry," she mumbled into the cherry-stained wood that was and would be her whole world from now until the mockery ended.

"Anyway, yeah I've never gotten to use my sword outside of practicing with it and my battle chair," Wist admitted easily, leaning back in his chair again and handing the impatient tourist standing nearby a croissant and a napkin. "On the house for the wait. So sorry about that."

Once they'd left, Wist mock-whispered to the Nama puddle cooling on his counter, "I'm not sorry about it."

Involuntarily, Nama giggled from deep within the caverns of her arms.

"Come on, get out of here," Wist pushed her up and away from the counter. "You're scaring off the tourists. How will I fund the café expansion with your tears stinking up the place?"

Nama nodded, walking backwards obediently, "Tell your mom I got here before noon and that I'll keep looking for her bracelet."

"Yeah, sure," Wist waved her off. Turning to the next customer he put on a cloying smile, voice saccharine as he clasped his hands together, "How may I help you this lovely day?"

Nama turned away before she had to see any more of Wist devoting himself to customer service. He wasn't overly enthused about her finding the band, apparently, but Nama guessed if her dad had been dead ten years, she wouldn't be too worried about it, either.

Her dad was...

The world shifted beneath her feet in a queasy wave.

Nama shook her head. What had she been zoning out about? She had to get to Jerri's! At some point when she wasn't looking, the sun had leapt overhead. It had to be nearly noon. White-tipped sneakers tapping loudly on the street, Nama eased into a run.

The commercial district of town blended smoothly with the residential in an organic mesh. Quaint shopfronts with wide display windows sat fondly with stout homes dwarfed by their own flower boxes. As per usual, Old Eald was shouting product reviews from his front porch. The four foot seven man sat crooked in his rocking chair on warm days and informed passing tourists on whether he believed they were ripped off or not. Regardless of their opinion in the matter.

"Hah!" he shouted out to a young family, pointing his cane between the thin wooden pillars of his railing. "No sense buying 'em clothes that good that young! Gierela makes cloth that lasts decades! And they'll fit those kids just a year!"

The parents, dressed in the dark sleek coats endemic to the city, ushered their children away from the strange man shouting from his porch. None of the locals batted an eye. Slowing to a trot on her approach, Nama rifled through her purse and produced an empty pickle jar she'd found earlier with Hlafa.

"Jars?" she prompted.

"Always," he returned. She set it firmly on the porch railing and sprinted away. Old Eald liked to reuse glass jars for some sculpture he was making in his basement. At this point, considering how many jars had been sacrificed for art, the townsfolk had a running bet on whether it would fit out the doors when he finally decided it was done.

Nama had two dollars on it barely making it up the stairs but getting stuck at the basement door.

"Did you buy that necklace or fish it out of the lake yourself?" His shouting faded behind her as she took a sharp right and flew down Fearless Lane.

Jerri's house was a cookie cutter replica of the others on the block: two stories, scratched up windowpanes, and not enough color to really fit in with the rest of town. Must be why city folk liked this street so much. Other than the admittedly cool name, of course. Her knuckles hit the dull green paint. In a small concession to the town's usual vibrancy, the door had at least something resembling a hue.

It swung open, Jerri's father blinking down at her behind comedically large glasses. Tall and pointed where his daughter was short and soft, he held little resemblance to Jerri beyond their shared brown eyes. Even his posture curled in on itself as if to ward off any roving eyes. In fact, if it weren't for Nama knowing the two since high school, she'd never be able to pick him out in a crowd. Still, he afforded her a weak smile as he moved to let her in.

Entering by habit, she chirped politely, "Hey, how are you, Mr. Uncuo?"

"Oh, uh, coping," he laughed nervously, adjusting his glasses and closing the door. "We typically have end of season booms in supernatural damage in the city, but lately it's been uh- it's really been something."

"That means lot of jobs for construction, though, right?" Nama questioned curiously. Strain jangled through his voice like frightened birds on a telephone wire. Maybe he was just worried about Jerri since she lived with her mom in the city most of the week.

"Yes," he clasped his hands together, eyes falling to the floor with another mirthless chuckle. "Yes, quite a bit more than we're equipped to deal with, actually."

"Oh," Nama wasn't sure what to say about that. Still she wasn't one to just give up, so she gave him a hesitant smile, "Good luck?"

Mr. Uncuo's eyes popped up once more at the awkward encouragement with one last laugh that smoothed its sharp edges. His hand clasped her shoulder gently, "Thank you, Nama. Jerri should be upstairs, picking an outfit still."

"Cool, thanks," Nama ducked away, heading upstairs. She did like Mr. Uncuo, but something in his voice reminded her of a lonely crow awaiting oblivion. She didn't always want to stick around him alone. "Jerri?"

"Come in!"

She pushed through the door to a familiar sight. Jerri's room was always in a state of flux. Last week, she'd had glow in the dark stars across the ceiling; now, stick on ladybugs marched around the walls. The bead curtain across the window was still in place but it was red and black rather than the previous dark blue. Even her bed had been lifted up on a loft instead of sitting squat on the floor. And there was Jerri, centered in the chaos with her legs tucked beneath her on the bed.

"Nama!" She leapt up and wrapped her arms around Nama, soft against her even as she gripped tight. Of course, Nama also had to gently blow some of Jerri's hair off her face. Sure, Nama's hair was bushy and thick, but it didn't travel nearly as well as Jerri's. With the slightest shift in the air the shiny tendrils floated around like someone had forgotten to give them weight.

Jerri was already on a roll before Nama could so much as take a breath, "I missed you so much while I was at university this week! Do you remember how I took that class on fashion design? Well I am rocking it. I wanted to tell you so bad; here look, I have my first assignment graded and everything. The professor said she'd actually want to wear my design!"

"That's great!" Automatically, Nama took the outstretched phone as Jerri moved back, looking down at the suit Jerri had drawn. The comments written on it were gushing. Suits were suits in Nama's opinion, so she adlibbed from one of the comments, "Yeah, I like the lapels."

Better not to hurt her best friend's feelings just because Nama didn't understand fashion, after all.

"Right? I thought it made it have just a stronger overall feel, you know?" Jerri pulled the phone back and floated up to her bed, her characteristic white magic sparking and glittering beneath her. She flipped through the comments again, smiling, and asked without looking up, "How are your classes going?"

"Oh, uh, pretty good; I still don't really know what I'm going to do, exactly," Nama wobbled her hand in the air and dropped it. "I'm getting closer I think. Luckily the college is giving me a little more time to decide a major before I get kicked out." Laughing nervously at the reminder, Nama took a little breath to get back on track. Whatever was wrong with her took precedence over catching up, "Actually-"

"Nama, they're not going to kick you out; you'll figure it out," Jerri put her phone down in her lap to meet Nama's gaze intently. "You're special. They'll see that, too."

"Uh." Blindsided by the sudden intense affection as she always was, Nama swallowed hard. She struggled to contain the warmth that pressed up from her stomach into her chest and neck. There was nowhere to hide it since it filled up the hidden spots first. Even so, Jerri's plush sparkly carpet was looking like a great place to sink into and just disappear. Disappear like...

Visceral memories of doing nearly that this morning tore briefly through her mind's eye.

Cold shock washed over her, dousing any warmth and drowning her perspective in icy clarity. Her mouth filled with an ashy taste and something that loomed spikey and large in the back of her mind like the shadow of an unseen iceberg. Trying to get her feet beneath her again, she shot Jerri some totally normal finger guns that didn't tremble at all, "Right back atcha. See, but, the thing is-"

"No," Jerri leaned impossibly off the bed, relying solely on her magic to keep her afloat. "I don't want to hear it. You're amazing and you need to accept that someday. Might as well start trying today! Now," she hopped to her feet on the floor, some stray papers and tights fluttering away from her gentle impact, "should I go with something light and airy or try to be all mysterious? I know you're not super into fashion but I think Holt comes back to town every other weekend and if we pass him in the street, I want his head to turn."

A different kind of cold settled amongst the rest in Nama's stomach, one that curled away from the world and made her feel small.

Holt, right.

Jerri was staring at her with those big brown eyes of hers; she didn't like the comparison but they always reminded Nama of a seal. Liquid and foreign, filled with a cheer Nama never quite understood. She'd look petite next to Holt with his hulking six foot frame. That was part of why she liked him so much; she said he made her feel like a pixie. At first, Nama had thought she didn't have a chance, but lately... Lately he'd been less gruff and more gentle when she would pop into his business without so much as a warning.

Turned out Holt wasn't immune to romance as Nama had thought.

That jerk.

Instantly she regretted the insult, apologizing mentally to Holt for being the receptacle of misplaced frustration he wouldn't understand. Jerri and Nama were best friends and that was okay. No matter what her mom kept trying to push her into saying.

Besides, Nama had bigger problems.

"You look gorgeous in anything, but I have a problem and I need your help." Blurted out without consideration for Jerri's ongoing train of thought, Nama instantly bit her lip.

Jerri's gaze rested unreadably on her for a moment, trying to process what had been said while Jerri essentially wasn't paying attention. Monologues were her forte; often she swept up her friends in a rallying speech, but equally as frequently she could lose herself in the tapestry of her own words. For Nama, it usually meant Jerri buffering in awkward silence when she interrupted her.

The moment ended and Jerri grabbed Nama's hands with a dancing energy, "A quest for my bestie?"

She pulled Nama to sit beside her, Jerri's magic tingling against Nama's skin and giving her a head rush from the influx.

Yanking her in closer, Jerri insisted, "Tell. Me. Everything. Is it a boy? A girl? Are you going to let me give you a makeover? Oh! Did you find some career you're not sure about but spending a day trying it out in a series of whacky hijinks with your best friend will lead you to the job of your dreams? No, better! Is there a blessed amulet in your life that you need to charge with the power of friendship?"

Her enthusiasm, as always, crackled over Nama with the proximity of her strong magic. Laughter bubbled up out of her against her own will. Charged excitement crept over her feelings like static cling, caging her real reaction in forced joviality, "Oh, haha, no, I think I'm cursed, but I bet you and the Witches can take care of it! It's probably fine. Everything's fine!"

"Oh- oh, um," Jerri removed her hands quickly, taking a worried scoot back. "Sorry, can you repeat that when you're not high on magic?"

As she distanced herself, the rush beneath Nama's skin quickly faded. A well-worn emptiness yawned open in the gap that she shook off with the ease of practice.

With a sigh, she pushed her hair back and tried again, "I think I'm cursed somehow, but so far it hasn't actually hurt me. Or, yeah, maybe I'm hallucinating but I really don't think so."

Sliding on a glove, Jerri carefully took Nama's hand once more, squeezing as she repeated in a far more somber tone, "Tell me everything."

The explanation poured out of her like dark water. There was less of it than she'd felt there was when she was drowning in it so Jerri was quickly up to speed. Although, the skitters had required some detouring to explain why she didn't know about them. In spite of that, Jerri was attentive and focused the whole way through, never once letting go of Nama's hand. Her lips pursed with the descriptions of Nama's experiences with her mother and the skitters, her eyes holding Nama up with a gaze that was both sympathetic and strong.

Nama was really lucky to be her best friend.

"Okay, I'm gonna get the gang together to see if anybody's got an idea," Jerri decided once they were done, whipping her phone out and dialing a number. She dropped Nama a reassuring smile, "I'm sorry you've been so scared, but we're gonna be with you, now, and we'll figure out what we have to do. This is like, our whole job!"

Pulling her knees up to her chest, Nama nodded silently.

Gravity didn't mix well with Jerri's personality. Or maybe it was less that it didn't mix and more that it foreshadowed dark times. After all, her default was pep and her optimism was automatic. Cool slime spread in Nama's stomach as she found her thoughts crawling in circles. She'd been focusing on the here and now with some success, but what she saw that morning, what she'd felt, it had all been... cloyingly dark. Her mother lying there like that; the skitters betraying her. These were the sorts of thing that kept her up at night. Dealing with it during the day had been invasive. Someone had poked her nightmares to the surface without her consent, unsettling the still waters of her heart in the process.

If the Witches could make it stop, great. If they ended up telling her it wasn't magic, though... Well, Nama would cross that bridge when she got to it.

"They want us to meet them at Laefel's Soup," Jerri reported. Talking as she went, she grabbed Nama's hands and slipped gloves over them, "Since the whole gang and a new friend are all going to be there, it might be best if you avoided any skin contact, considering how you react to magicians. Hey, who knows?" Jerri nudged her encouragingly, "Maybe this is related to your little magic reactions and it all turns out to just be a new magical power and you can join the Witches!"

"Yeah," Nama agreed weakly. She wasn't sure she wanted a power like that. What would she do, crash people into manifestations of the things they feared? Scare people with dreams that they'd dread being wished into realities? No thanks.

Jerri whipped a pale yellow scarf around her neck and sparkled into a matching sundress with a twist of her magical might, "Let's go!"

Laefel's Soup was a casual place, known mainly for its titular soup but also a variety of vegetarian dishes. Jerri's friends visited nearly every time they rolled into town since a good chunk of them didn't eat meat. They were already a bit rowdy by the time Nama and Jerri arrived, but it was comforting in its sameness. See, despite being city folk, the Witches ignited everywhere they went, sparkling and glowing inside in a way which Nama was sure must come from their magic. Usually she didn't mind the trouble swimming in their wake; in fact, she rode the thrill. Today, though...

Today she'd love to just get answers without an adventure. When it was her trouble raising claw and fang from the darkness, it felt more like she was treading water than riding the boat.

Once Jerri and she started explaining the problem, the only face Nama didn't recognize leaned back with a whistle.

"Wow, Jerri, you told me it'd be intense if I came along, but I didn't realize you meant we'd be dealing with straight up curses," she said, linking her hands behind her head. Her arms were thick and strong, the muscles clearly visible due to the plain grey overalls she was wearing. Her black hair was tied back in a tight braid that fell over one shoulder as she shrugged, "Color me intrigued. Why do you think you got cursed, uh, Nom?"

"Nah-muh," Nama corrected, getting a hand wave for her efforts.

"Same thing, isn't it? Nom, Noma," she snorted. "Weird name."

Okay, so someone here didn't care what the locals thought of her. She crossed her arms firmly over her chest, "Well, what's your name, Overalls? Or did your parents skimp on that, too, when they missed you handing out manners?"

The other woman's eyes widened slightly and her arms dropped to her sides. She leaned forward on the table, "Uh, sorry. Nama, not Nom. Got it. Didn't realize that- um, well, I'm new in town. Sorry."

"Townies have feelings, too; sorry to disappoint," Nama retorted, feeling some of her nerves dissipate with the distraction. Less aggressively, she repeated, "What's your name?"

"Iris, um Iris Parker," she extended a hand promptly across the table. "I really am sorry; I didn't want to hurt feelings."

Nama looked at the hand for a moment before she sighed and unfolded her arms to return the gesture, "Apology accepted if you can help me fix this."

"We will," said Jerri, popping her words into the conversation like a harpoon through a soap bubble. Nama was startled to realize she and Iris had been entirely ignoring the rest of the group sitting themselves around the table as they argued. Immediately she joined them, scooting in the green plastic chair with a loud squeak.

The quiet side conversation at the table paused as Hillevi, Falter, and Rory waited expectantly and Nama cleared her throat.

"Well, what do you need to know?"

Finishing the explanation a second time was smoother. Jerri's friends knew her fairly well, but they weren't as invested. That kind of distance kept any emotional feedback at a minimum in Nama's experience. The feelings simply fell into the gulf between them and never rose again. So once she'd got it all out this time, some of the weight lifted. Their eyes weren't reflecting her worries back at her; she could almost see the anxiety glittering in the dark chasm between them as it fell.

After all, Stardust and the Witches were heroes known far and wide. If anyone could help her, it was the people seated around this table. Plus Iris, apparently, who had tagged along for the ride. Nama's handshake with her had jolted only mildly, so she knew whatever magic she had was new or untrained.

Not like the powerhouses she was accompanying.

Falter, the brains of the group, tapped the table with their knuckles to punctuate an unspoken conclusion as they said aloud, "Alright, easy enough. This seems like a fear curse, right? Something that shows you what you're scared of? There's a Nightmare I've heard about just to the south. If anything's connected to a fear curse, it's probably a fear horse, right? And they can manifest you know, actual nightmares."

"But I haven't seen it," Nama pointed out. "Don't you have to see them first?"

"It's a place to start," Hillevi shrugged, pulling on her brass knuckles and looking to Jerri. "Suit up?"

"Suit up," Jerri confirmed. They stood as one, Iris belatedly following before Jerri waved her back. "Don't worry about it, Iris, you weren't planning to go incognito, right? You can keep Nama safe in the meantime."

Iris sat back down, glancing nervously at Nama across from her as she did so, "Right. I'll... be here."

Shedding fidgets and silence in equal measure, Iris made for an awkward waiting buddy in all the wrong ways. Her attempts to speak were amusing at first but once the group reunited and they trekked out past the woods into the swamp, it began to grate on Nama.

She dropped to the back of the pack with Iris, reached into her purse, and pulled out a shoe string. Tied along its length was an earring, a wristwatch, and a keychain. She jingled it at Iris, "I've taken a valuable every time you failed to speak. You can have it back once you spit it out."

Wide eyes and a grab at her pockets betrayed Iris' surprise, but she recovered with unexpected speed. Unlike most who ran face first into Nama's least sociable habit, she was unfazed at being separated from her possessions, instead acquiescing to the spoken request with a simple, "You're just not what I expected and I'm sorry I approached things the way I did."

"Yeah, well," Nama flipped the string into the palm of her hand, closing her fingers around it. So this was a case of continued embarrassment. It at least spoke well to her character that Iris was still hung up on how rude she'd been earlier. "Is that really all you've been trying to say?"

Iris nodded sheepishly and Nama tossed her the small collection.

"You're quick to come around, aren't you?" she commented idly as Iris put the lot back into her pocket without examination. Iris had been so incredibly rude one moment and entirely apologetic the next. Something about the whole encounter still sat wrong with Nama. Especially as Iris' timing was interesting in and of itself. Showing up at the same time as Nama's curse began? If it weren't for her obvious lack of skill in magic so far, Iris might have made the short list of suspects. As it stood, she wasn't a likely cause; Nama would just put aside her doubts and focus on the Nightmare angle. At least the massive beasts tended not to attack unless provoked-

"Nama!" Jerri called out.

Iris tackled Nama in the same second. A horse galloped through, green as envy and dribbling a liquid of similar color from its teeth. Its hooves shook the ground by Iris and Nama's heads. That was far too close.

And so was Iris.

Her strong hold enclosed Nama entirely, but it wouldn’t keep her safe. Not with the horse wheeling about for another go.

Nama took a deep breath to control the heartbeat thumping in her head and rumbling all the way down to her fingertips, pushing away from Iris to stand.

"Never fought a Nightmare before," Nama remarked in a wobbly voice. Bravado wouldn't fool anyone, but it wasn't meant to do so. Instead, Nama was merely propping sticks up under the table of her emotional stability in the hopes some would hold when the legs gave out.

And the slavering Nightmare eyeing her with empty black sockets?

They weren’t going to be the reason it collapsed. Not with the Witches on her side.

Nama planted her feet and prepared to fight.