Jeremy sat on the bench beside where Moira lay zonked. The lack of people milling about the garden was surprising given how busy the hospital was, but Jeremy supposed that mostly everyone was crowded around the emergency room. He slouched until his head rested on the back of the bench and looked up. There was a vast nothingness beyond the lights overhead, the sky still obscured by the haze of smoke.
It would be difficult to find a better place to meditate. In the hospital above them, people knelt in the chapel and bowed their heads in prayer. Or they sat in the plastic waiting room chairs and stared at the postings about covering your mouth when you cough and tried not to spiral into worry and despair. The nurses and doctors were singularly focused on their tasks, driven by the need to help this one person while trying not to think about the sheer number of others waiting in line. Jeremy sat in a literal meditation garden, a place constructed for the purpose of quiet contemplation. He shut his eyes and focused inward.
He was usually unsuccessful at meditation. He tried a few times back in the day when he was hot-headed and impulsive and looking for anger management techniques. It did not ever work out for him. He could clear his mind just fine for the first minute or so. Visualization came easily, and he could relax his muscles just fine. But when he got to the part of letting his thoughts drift past so he could remain in that clear-minded meditative state, he failed every time. He never could let a thought go if it intrigued him, picking at it like a stray thread on a sweater until the whole thing unraveled.
But this time, he had a specific thought to meditate on. Gaining a ring. Or getting more efficient at casting spells in general. And he already visualized the overlays and runes of magic, so he could literally envision them in his mind’s eye. Focusing on that instead of an empty mind proved to come more naturally to him.
The bench fell away, and he no longer heard the buzz of the bugs launching themselves at the lights. He ignored the sticky humidity that clung to the air even in the dead of night, as well as the cool breeze, a harbinger of fall, that shifted through it. He focused only on the overlay around him, its orange color shifting to a brighter yellow and the idea of becoming as efficient at spellcasting as possible. After a while, he squinted his eyes open and looked down at his chest.
Nothing changed. He sighed and closed his eyes again. Maybe the whole meditation thing was not actually necessary. He did not have much confidence in the council’s expertise, although he still wanted their raw knowledge. Just because Sean said you needed to meditate did not mean it was actually true, or at least true in every circumstance.
Thus far, every time Jeremy saw a person’s overlay shift colors, it happened while they were doing something, not thinking about something. When he really thought about it, he realized it was always when they were killing something. But he had not watched someone gain a ring yet, so maybe that did require a certain level of directed focus. Whether that be remaining calm and buckling down in the chaos of the emergency room or setting aside time to cultivate from more mundane spells in the safety of your own home.
He would have to focus on gaining a ring himself to see what happened when he did. In the meantime, he could make a more focused effort to catalog the number of spells he was able to cast at a time in order to figure out how efficient he was starting out. It had been hard to do that when they were so often running for their lives. He had a bit of an idea from when they were walking between apartment buildings, but, in general, it had not been prudent to exhaust themselves by experimenting with their limits while wandering between so many dangerous situations. But he would never get better at dealing with dangerous situations if he did not try to improve between them.
Sitting still on the bench for so long made him feel antsy. He peeled himself off, grimacing at the way his skin stuck to the plastic. He stretched his arms upward. It felt good to stretch without the discomfort from his back. In all this running around and chaos, he also could not keep up with his normal workout routine. They’d been rucking all over the city, so his cardio was taken care of, but now that his back was better, it was time to get more deliberate about keeping himself in shape.
He stood up, stretched out a little more, then dropped down for some push-ups on the sidewalk. He rolled onto his back for some crunches. Then he stood and did some lunges, moving around the small circular garden. When he got back to the bench, he dropped to the sidewalk and started with push-ups again.
His head pounded, and his entire body ached with exhaustion, but with each rep he felt better and better. When he finally had enough, he rolled onto his back with his arms splayed wide and panted up at the dark, smoky sky. The air quality had to be shit right now. Sweat dripped down his neck and collected in the small of his back.
“Hey!” A voice said from behind him. He craned his neck to look back and saw Zanie standing there in her long skirt. Down here, he noticed that she was wearing hiking boots, which looked odd when matched with the flowy skirt, but he supposed she had left her apartment in a rush.
“Hey.” Jeremy pushed himself up, not blind to the fact that Zanie’s eyes lingered over his bare torso. Sticking to a workout routine for the past year had done Jeremy a lot of favors. While not winning any weight-lifting contests, he knew he filled out his clothes nicely and looked pretty good when he took off his shirt.
He glanced at the bloody lump of a shirt that he had flung haphazardly over the back of the bench. Maybe he should put it back on. But now that it was off, he felt a physical resistance to the idea of putting it back on, especially since he was all sweaty. He sat on the bench and used a relatively clean part of it to wipe his face instead.
Zanie sat beside him on the bench, “Leon said you were outside.”
“You were in the hospital with him?”
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“Yeah,” Zanie said, “He knew the guard or something. They got us inside right away. Never looked at me twice, so I just kinda went along with it.”
Jeremy glanced at Moira and wondered how she would take that little piece of news.
“I thought you’d have moved on by now. Didn’t you say you had friends to go stay with?” He asked.
“Yeah, but they can’t pick me up until the morning, and I don’t feel like walking to them at night.”
“That’s fair.”
He was not sure what to talk to her about. In life-or-death situations, conversation tended to flow freely, but in those spaces between, he felt stilted. Moira tended to ramble on about things herself, and when she did not, the silence between them was companionable. In those moments, she normally focused on her phone. He’d known Caleb for long enough that nothing ever felt awkward between them. They had seen each other at their worst. But he did not know Zanie at all, not really. And his usual list of small talk did not seem appropriate anymore.
“Your back is better.” Zanie glanced over his shoulder.
Jeremy hummed, “Yeah. We figured out some healing magic.”
“That sounds useful.” Zanie sat back against the bench and looked out over the garden, “It was interesting to see all the nurses and doctors doing spells while I was inside. I tried to ask one of them to teach me a few spells, but I just got a lecture about how dangerous it was to do any healing magic without proper training.”
“Yeah, the nurse who taught us some said that you could end up hurting the person worse,” Jeremy said.
“Not only that. I saw a brother and a sister come through. The sister got hurt, and the brother tried to heal her, but the spell backfired on him. It was pretty gruesome.” Zanie shuddered.
They heard footsteps, and Caleb came around a bend in the garden and into view. He trailed behind Atticus, who seemed oblivious to the human she dragged about. Mary did not warn Caleb that the spell could backfire on him. Jeremy wondered if that was a deliberate omission so that Caleb’s confidence in the spell would not be shaken. Either way, he was glad it worked out.
“Speaking of that.” Jeremy looked at Zanie, “Thanks for reviving me, however you managed to do that, but you should probably avoid doing that in case it does backfire on you.”
Zanie kept watching Caleb and Atticus with interest but acknowledged Jeremy’s warning. “I know that now. And I think that as I get a better handle on how to practice magic, it will be easier to make sure I don’t accidentally throw around spells.”
Jeremy hummed in agreement. “I think that goes for everyone. You are going to practice?”
“Well, I think that it will be difficult to survive without knowing magic at this point.” Zanie pointed out. Caleb and Atticus made their way over.
“Even though your mom’s pastor says it is the work of the devil?” Jeremy said. Zanie rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to respond, but Caleb beat her to it.
“Well, isn’t it the work of the devil?” Caleb had his serious face on. He scooped Atticus up and stroked his head. With a black cat in his arms and his long hair loose and tangled from all the chaos from earlier in the night, he looked pretty spooky. All he needed was an all-black outfit and a third eye tattooed on his forehead. He shook his head gravely. “All these monsters are demons, I tell you.”
Zanie glanced at Jeremy, who held his hands out for Atticus. Caleb dumped the cat into his arms with a grateful sigh.
“Zanie, this is Atticus. And that is Caleb. Don’t take anything he says seriously.” Jeremy said, “Caleb, this is Zanie. She’s the one who saved me and Sean from the flood earlier.”
“Well, I don’t know if I would say saved, but…” She trailed off as Caleb plopped on the bench beside her with a wide grin.
“So, do you think it’s the devil's work?” He asked her, “That the floodgates of hell have been opened?”
She pursed her lips, “I think it's dangerous to label anything that we don’t really understand as entirely good or evil.”
Caleb’s eyebrows shot up. He looked at Jeremy. “I like her. Can we keep her?”
“Jesus, Caleb.” Jeremy shook his head, but Caleb was on a roll. He excitedly turned his entire body toward Zanie and leaned close to her.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He said, “It wasn’t the devil that started all this. It was an old, ancient god.” Realization flashed over his face, and he looked at Jeremy again, stricken. “Unless…Jer, you don't think it was the devil that you saw, do you?”
“I mean, I doubt it.” Jeremy said, “But maybe.”
“What are you talking about?” The arrival of Leon and Sean cut off their conversation before Caleb could run his mouth any more. Sean looked no worse for the wear. The blood had been cleaned from the side of his face, and there was color back in his cheeks again. He still looked bedraggled, his suit jacket slung over one arm and his damp, stained shirt untucked from his slacks. He kept carding his fingers through his hair to push it out of his face.
“We ready to go?” Leon asked, glancing over the group.
“Sure.” Jeremy stood up, “How are you feeling Sean?”
“Like I need a shower.” He sneered.
“You’re in good company then,” Caleb told him. Jeremy went over to the other bench and shook Moira’s shoulder. She gasped and flailed, and the back of her hand cracked him right across the cheekbone. He should have expected that. Atticus yowled in complaint and tumbled out of his arms.
“Hey, get up.” He told her as she looked around to orient herself and settle down.
She glared at him and croaked, “Give me a second. This bench hurt my back, fuck.”
“Who is that?” Leon asked.
“Moira Feldman,” Sean said. Leon grunted. He crossed his arms and took a few steps toward the bench. He stopped when he loomed over where she sat and looked down his nose at her.
“Feldman, huh?” He said brusquely, “Your family has some explaining to do.”
Jeremy stood up straight and put himself between the guy and Moira. If this was the type of reception they were going to receive upon meeting with other council people, maybe they should avoid them. But he needn’t have gotten all riled up.
“I don’t know anything.” Moira huffed. She stood up and swept past Leon as if he were not two feet taller than her, looming menacingly. “Can we please go so I can shower and sleep in an actual bed?”
“I second that.” Sean trailed after her as she marched out of the meditation garden. She glared over her shoulder at him. Jeremy looked over at Zanie, who was still sitting on the bench. She watched Caleb stand up and stretch before following after Moira and Sean. Before Jeremy could say anything, Leon beat him to the punch.
“Are you coming with us?”
“Oh,” Zanie shrugged, “I think I’ll just wait here for my friends to pick me up. It’s fine.”
“We are going to a spot that is only a few minutes from here,” Leon said, “It’ll probably be easier for them to pick you up where there is less traffic. And you can wait inside.”
Zanie pursed her lips, and her eyes glanced over Leon, then Jeremy. Then she shrugged, stood, and picked up her bag, “Okay.”
They caught up with Moira and Sean just in time to see Moira stop dead at the sight of a couple walking down the sidewalk.
“Sean Morgan,” The woman said, “Fancy seeing you here. And Moira darling, too?”
Moira did that thing Jeremy was starting to recognize where she went still for a moment while winding up to throw a fit. It was like she was a spring coiling up tightly so she could go off the moment the tension was released. He braced himself.
“Mr. and Mrs. Lemaire.” She pointed a finger at them, “Have you heard from your son?”