Chapter Fifteen

A Glimpse of Power

            The first gift arrived Wednesday, delivered to the shop door in the morning before Threads had even opened. Alice unlocked the front door, pausing when she saw the basket of roses on the front step.   There was a card tied to the handle of the basket, and she tore it from the ribbon, her heart beating faster. Were these for her? Who would send her roses? Jason had never even bought her one rose, and it looked like the basket easily held two dozen or more.

            “What’s that?”  Gabriel emerged from the back room, coffee in hand. He attempted to stifle a yawn.

            “It was on the doorstep. Roses it looks like.” Alice set the basket down on the front desk, slipping the card free of its envelope.

Alice,

I hope this finds you well, and again, I send my sincere apologies for the terrible events of  Saturday night. I do hope this does not tarnish me in your sight. I dearly wish to see you again.

Yours in admiration,

Alexie Ambrose.

            “It’s from him,” Alice exclaimed.

            “Who?”

            “Ambrose.”

            “What? Let me see.” Gabriel grabbed the card. He grimaced. “Yuck, he’s trying to butter you up.”

            “I don’t want his stupid roses.” Alice turned and walked behind the desk, leaving the basket where it sat on the floor. She couldn’t help glancing back though. The roses were beautiful; it was sort of thrilling to think a man was sending her flowers, especially a man like Ambrose.

              Shakra ambled over and sniffed at the roses delicately. “They’re not poisoned at least.”

            “I think he means to make a good impression.” Alice grinned. “I would hardly be impressed if he topped off the drugged wine with poisoned flowers.”

            “He can’t redeem himself with a few roses,” Gabriel grumbled.

            “Certainly not,” Alice agreed, and kept her eyes on the floor lest Gabriel notice she wasn’t quite as enraged as he was.

            Two dozen roses may not have cut it, according to Gabriel, but Ambrose did not stop there.  In the days that followed there was a new gift each morning. The second day was a box of expensive chocolates, which Gabriel tried to throw in the trash - Alice rescued it, saying no matter who it was from, he would not waste good chocolate!. The third morning a beautifully crafted oak jewellery box that played soft music when it opened stood in gold wrappings on the doorstep, and the fourth, an exquisitely soft black fur shawl.

“This is crazy.” Alice stared at the shawl. “I can’t believe this.”

            “It’s meant to impress you,” Gabriel said crossly, “And it looks as if it’s working.”

            “I’m not impressed,” Alice retorted. “I’m horrified. This looks terribly expensive. I’ll send it back.” She ran a finger over the soft fur.

            “I wouldn’t,” Shakra said. “That would only insult him.”

            “I guess.” Alice hesitated, loath to admit she wanted to keep the outrageous presents.

            “You want that girl, don’t you?”

            “Yes, I suppose I won’t send it back then...for Maya’s sake” She held up the soft shawl, stroking it with one hand as Gabriel looked on suspiciously. “It’s still ridiculous though.”

            “Apparently you don’t mind ridiculous,” someone chuckled from behind her, “the way you’re stroking that thing.”

            “Altair.” Alice jumped, and then turned to show him the shawl. “Look at this thing Ambrose sent.”

            “He’s been showering her with gifts all week,” Gabriel reported with irritation.

            “Expensive ones apparently.” Altair took the fur and looked it over. “He must really want to win you over.” Altair was watching her carefully, and she quickly schooled her face into blankness.

            “We got a new shipment in at the back.” Azura came in holding a wooden handled straw broom.  “More gifts from the pop star?”

            “They’re getting more expensive.” Alice put the box behind the desk.

            “Why are you hanging out down here anyways?” Azura leaned the broom against the edge of the desk. “It’s your day off. Go enjoy yourself, relax.”

            Alice shrugged. “Gabriel called me down when he saw the new box. What have you got there? Magic brooms?”

            “Not yet.” Azura picked up the broom. “We can either use a flying spell, or a cleaning spell. They’re both fun.”

            Alice blinked. “Flying spell? How do we do that?”

            “You want me to show you on your day off?”

            “Yes please!”

            They went into the backroom, trailed by a curious Altair. A number of brooms leaned against the desk and he took one to examine. He watched with interest as Azura demonstrated the first spell.  She called down several different threads, “Wind, movement, energy.” Azura counted them off as she drew them into her hands. “Balance, stability, weightlessness.” She wove the six strands together swiftly, her hands darting in and out of the pattern.

“Then we put them together with our intent.”

            Alice watched in fascination as Azura finished the spell and wove it around and around the broom handle.

            “Now you have a finished product.” She offered the broom to Alice, who took it reverently.

“I could…fly now?” The idea was thrilling. She had that feeling in her chest again, exhilarated excitement. It was like she was nine years old and standing at her window. But this time there was no spell to stop her from actually flying!

            “Possibly. It takes some practice. Do you want to try the spell?”

            “Okay, and then I want to fly it!” Alice grabbed a broom excitedly. “I don’t know if I can remember exactly what you did, but I’ll try.” She pictured what she wanted, calling out for the six strands. Lately she’d found the threads of magic responded better with a firm hand, a demanding will.   Eventually the threads complied, drifting toward her outstretched hands.  Alice grasped them, looking to Azura for her next move.

            “Very good.” Azura nodded approvingly. “Now try to weave them together like I showed you.”

            Alice started to attempt the pattern she’d just seen. It wasn’t too complicated. It reminded her of how she used to braid hemp bracelets and necklaces when she was younger, threading in beads and charms.

            “Good,” Azura was saying, “Very good - now loop the pattern around like I showed you.”

            Alice obeyed, looping the threads around and around till she was almost dizzy. “Done!”

            “Great work.” Azura smiled. “You now have a flying broom.”

            “Awesome! Can I try it?”

            “Go ahead.” She laughed. “Just be careful.  Remember to start out low. It takes some time to get the hang of.”

            “I’ll be careful.” Alice swung her left leg over the broom handle.

            “This should be good.” Altair folded his arms over his chest with a smirk. He leaned back against the desk to watch.

            “Um…” Alice glanced at Azura. “How do I get it started?”

            “The same way you work magic – picture what you want it to do.”

            Alice squeezed her eyes shut, thinking about rising slowly off the floor and hovering in mid-air.  She felt a stab of excitement as her feet left the floor, and then the excitement was replaced by something else. “Ow!”  She tried to push herself off the handle a little bit. She tipped over sideways, sprawling on the floor with a surprised squeak. Altair began laughing until he was nearly wheezing, his hands on his knees.

            “Shut up,” Alice snapped.

            “That was priceless.”

            “I forgot,” Azura said, “Most Witches that get around the old fashioned way put a bicycle seat on the handle. We may have to do the same”

            “I think so too.” Alice blushed. “That was…uncomfortable.”

            Altair howled more loudly still, and Alice snapped at him that he was next.  He put on a sober face. “I hope to have children someday, so no thank you.”

            Alice leaned the broom back against the wall. She exited the room, doing her best not to walk bow legged. Altair’s laughter followed her, and she scowled at Gabriel when he looked like he was about to say something.

“Don’t say a word.”

            “You need to keep practicing.”

            “I don’t think that’s the problem.”

            Thursday Azura opened the shop, and when Alice came down she found the woman standing at the front door, holding a colourfully wrapped package.

“Another gift from your admirer.”

            “Great.” Alice took the parcel from her delicately.

            “I have to admit, I’m curious.” Azura flipped the sign over to the “Welcome” side and followed her to the desk. Alice tore the paper off the box and opened the lid.

“Oh geeze, please say those aren’t what I think they are.”

            Nestled inside the paper was a pair of bright red high heels.

            “How can he possibly know my shoe size?”

            “Are those designers?” Azura pulled one of the shoes out to examine it. “Wow, I can’t believe the amount of money this man is throwing at you.”

            “It’s disgusting,” Alice said distractedly. “Seriously though, shoes are a kind of strange gift, don’t you think?  And how does he know I’m a size eight?”

            “I don’t know,” Azura murmured. “I suppose he must have guessed.”

            Alice frowned at the thought of Ambrose staring at her feet for any length of time, unsure if she was flattered or disturbed.

“It’s weird.” She put the shoe back in the box beside its twin, placing it behind the desk. “I don’t want to wear the horrid things.”

            “We could sell them and feed a small country,” Azura suggested.

            “Phenomenal idea. Put them online, will you?”

            “Consider it done.”

            Gabriel entered from the backroom, clutching a mug of tea in one hand and bagel in the other. “What’s the gift-of-the-day?”

            “Designer shoes,” Alice said. “We’ve decided to resell them and solve world hunger.”

            “That guy has too much money for his own good.” Gabriel bit into his bagel, sending crumbs flying everywhere. “I can’t believe he’s trying to impress you with all these gifts.”

            “I know” And I’m trying not to let it work, because that would make me, what? A gold digger?  Alice frowned at the shoe box.

            The door’s bell jangled and they both turned to see Altair walking in.  The thief had on a long black jacket, artistically ripped, and faded blue jeans with leather boots peeking out from underneath his pant legs. His hair was still unruly and his face unshaved, but today it was more the carefully unkempt look of a male model then an unwashed thief.  “I didn’t expect you’d be back so soon.” She eyed Altair as he leaned against the front of the desk. 

            “Had to come check on you, seems you get into one tight spot after another.” He smirked.

Alice glowered at him. “And I get myself out just fine without any of your help.”

            “Hey,” Altair responded, wearing an insulted expression, “Aren’t you glad I came with you to Ambrose’s party? I like to think I came in handy once or twice.”

            He had of course. She had never been to a party of that magnitude. It was basically a ball and she’d had no clue as to the etiquette. He’d been an immense help, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him.

“Perhaps you were slightly useful,” she admitted grudgingly.

            Altair laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you.”  He leaned in closer, and once more Alice was hit with that familiar sent.  This time the campfire smoke and leather smell was less intense, mingled pleasantly with the light, spicy scent of cologne. Does he wear cologne? Or maybe that’s his shampoo…She stopped herself mid thought. When she glanced sideways at Gabriel he looked cross, and very much like he wanted to say something about Altair’s flirting, but couldn’t, as his mouth was stuffed with bagel.  She hid a smile at his expression.

            “Any word from Ambrose yet?” Altair asked.

            “Nothing aside from ridiculous presents every morning,” Alice said.

            “I expect you’ll receive an invitation in the next few days. There’s already talk about when his next big party will be.”

            “Already? I don’t…” Alice was interrupted as the bell rang wildly, announcing the entrance of an exited looking Tricia, followed closely by Lacy. 

            “Alice!” Tricia shrieked at ear-splitting decibels. “You won’t believe this!” She was waving a gossip magazine in one hand.  She ran to the desk, her high heels making clacking noises on the hardwood floor.  Alice noted she was dressed in a ridiculously tight pair of acid washed jeans and a pink long sleeved shirt underneath a white fur vest.  Her blonde hair was pinned up in curls and her earrings, two small, diamond studded letter ‘Cs’, swung back and forth as she gestured excitedly.  Lacy followed her friend, smiling at Alice with razor like white teeth.  She was dressed slightly more conservatively, in a black, button down mini dress, black tights and brown boots.

            “You’re in Witches!” Tricia exclaimed, shoving the magazine towards the three of them. “Look!”

            The magazine was open to a colourful article titled “Alexie Ambrose’s Latest Fabulous Extravaganza”. It showed pictures of the outside of Alexie’s house and the guests arriving.  There were several shots of people Alice didn’t know, a shot of the regal looking vampire woman who had disembarked before the Fury sisters and then of course, Alecto and Megaria.

The shot that had Tricia so excited was in the far left corner of the page. It showed a woman in a long, form fitting red dress and feathered mask ascending the marble stairs, a large, snow white Tiger at her side.

“That’s….that’s me.” Alice stared at the picture in astonishment. The caption underneath read: “Shop owner and up and coming socialite, Alice Cunningham and her pet tiger, Shekra.”

            “They spelled Shakra’s name wrong,” Alice murmured. “And she’s not my pet.”

            “You’re in Witches!” Tricia squealed. “Who cares?”

            Alice could see Azura and Shakra peering around the corner, Azura leaning out of her chair slightly, coffee mug in hand.

“Everything alright, Alice?”

            “I’m in a magazine,” Alice told her dazedly. “A gossip magazine.”

            Azura smiled slightly, a small, tight expression. “Ah, yes. The rabid press, I’m not surprised.”

            “The side effect of showing up for any party thrown by Mr. Ambrose, no doubt.” Shakra added.

            “Isn’t it exciting?” Tricia said, turning to Lacy. “I think we must have just been getting out of the limousine when they took that shot. Maybe next time we’ll be in one!”

            “Maybe.” Lacy didn’t seem nearly as overcome by the excitement as her friend was.

            “Socialite?” Alice repeated. “Yuck.”

            “Say…” Altair had apparently wandered around the side of the desk and was examining the shoe box sitting there. “You buy yourself some Prada, Paris?”
            “I did not,” Alice snapped. “That was simply the latest ridiculous gift.”

            “He sent you Prada shoes?”

            Alice thought that if Tricia’s eyes got any wider they would pop out of her head.

“Yes, he’s been sending gifts nearly every day to try to make me forget that someone poisoned me. It’s not working so far.” She sighed as Altair placed the box on the top of the desk and Tricia snatched the top off excitedly and seized one of the shoes.

            “…and they’re red! Oh, so pretty!”

            “Poisoned…” Alice reminded her.

            “And look at the sparkly straps!”

            “Lying on the floor paralyzed…”

            “…and stiletto heels!”

            “He could have poisoned Tricia and she’d be fine with it,” Lacy observed dryly, “so long as he sent her some sparkly shoes after.”

            Tricia put down the shoes and pouted, “Maybe it wasn’t him and he just feels bad.”

            “He’s still a horrible person…god…whatever he is.” Gabriel said. “Even if it wasn’t him, he’s still a giant a...”

            “Yes, yes.” Alice put the lid back on the shoe box and tucked it back under the desk. “I don’t care if it was him or Allira. I’d like to just skip town, but the shop won’t let me.”

            “You could try again,” Gabriel suggested.

            “I guess so.” Only, what if it works this time? The image of Maya’s face drifted to the forefront of her mind - Maya’s miserable, beaten-puppy expression and cowed posture.  It made her mad all over again just thinking about it.

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