Philadelphia, Earth

She took the stairs carefully, her wrinkled hand skimming along the top of the bannister. Her granddaughter wasn’t home, she’d gone out with some friends and Agatha was in no rush to get back to her empty apartment.

It was good to be out. She rarely left the building unless she had a reason, but she’d needed to shop. Bekka loved strawberry poundcake and Agatha had gotten everything but the fruit. When the snowflakes began to fall, she’d decided to finish later.

“Agatha!” a familiar voice called on the fourth floor landing.

The woman rushed to meet her and Agatha waved, “Mary, how are you?”

“Good, good. Are you ready for Bekka’s birthday?”

“I think so.”

“You got her present?”

“No, not yet, but I looked in a few of the closer stores.”

Her friend wagged her finger, “Don’t you spoil her, now. We both know how easy it is to spend too much. With our budgets, we’ve got to be careful.”

“I know. I didn’t buy anything. I’m still trying to pick the right gift. Bekka’s not really into clothes.”

“What about a small piece of jewelry? Or a watch? I got one for Christopher when he turned eighteen.” Her friend lit up, “You know they came to see me last night?”

“Oh, how nice!” Agatha smiled, jealously strumming inside her. “You didn’t tell me they were coming.”

Her friend nodded. “It was a total surprise. And it wasn’t just him! His wife and their daughter came, too! All three of them down from Boston.”

“They’re staying the weekend?”

“Oh, no. They have friends to visit in the area, but they stayed last night. We went out to a Red Robin. Have you ever been?”

Agatha shook her head.

“You should try it,” Mary confided in a rush, elaborating on all the restaurants’ perks.

“That’s great,” Agatha managed, feeling the sadness spread.

This was a difficult subject for her, but it would have been rude to leave. Her friend didn’t see her son much and Agatha felt obliged to listen. Still, Mary could talk the hind legs off a…what did they call them here... a donkey, and after a few minutes, Agatha interrupted her to end the conversation.

“I’ve got to go put the milk away,” she cut in.

“Oh, of course,” her friend smiled. “I’ll tell you the rest at cards.”

Agatha said goodnight and resumed her climb to the ninth floor. Her knees only ached a little. She’d seen her doctor a week ago and his advice was foremost in her mind. According to him, she was one of the sprightliest eighty-year olds he’d ever met. Unfortunately, he had also detailed what she could expect from her health in the next few years.

It was a bad time to be old, she reflected, what with Bekka’s change so close. There was no telling what would happen when the moment came. Her own adaugeo had been a splendid event and Agatha wanted the same for her granddaughter.

It couldn’t be the same, she knew that, but she was going to make it the best she could.

Her granddaughter’s Power would manifest as close to her birthday as the gods would have it-- though there was no telling the exact moment. In truth, Agatha didn’t really know what to expect. Bekka would be the first Eganese child to come to adulthood on Earth. How could her Power manifest in a world with no majic?

Perhaps she’d never have an adaugeo at all.

Agatha frowned as she searched for her key. Maybe that would be best. If her granddaughter never came into her Power, then she wouldn’t be a threat to the Family. Bekka knew nothing of where she was from and of what she might be capable.

That was Agatha’s fault, of course. But, Eganene was impossible to explain. If Agatha could have brought her home, back to her real home...

But they couldn’t go back. Even the idea was dangerous.

Anonymity was her new Power. There were so many people here, so many billions of people, and all their great cities. She wasn’t about to risk it for a sojourn to the past.

Agatha put away the groceries and made a small meal that she ate sitting in her armchair. They had a television, but she didn’t turn it on. If only Bekka knew what she was capable of. Agatha dreamt about it, imagining the look on her granddaughter’s face as she called the sun out from behind a storm or whispered a light aurum amita into existence.

Her hand trembled, the desire to conjure majic almost unbearable. She was an addict without her drug.

Hours after her food grew cold, she sat remembering. Her granddaughter’s adaugeo filled her with hope, despite her worry over the how and when. It would be a relief to tell Bekka the truth, all of the truth, to tell her about herself and her family, about the life she should have been born into.

Perhaps, one day, Eganene would be different and there’d be something to return to. Seventeen years was a long time. Her people might still rise up.

Scottie jumped on her lap and made himself a warm, rumbling ball. He was a big cat, his fur a confusion of white, red and brown. A warm comfort for her worries. She checked the clock, eager to see her granddaughter. As the hours passed, her fears began to grow.

Philadelphia wasn’t the safest place. It had a high crime rate, gang violence and a rash of predators. The newspapers were full of stories, as was the television when her granddaughter turned it on. Yet the common criminals worried her less than the Family did.

Bekka had said she was studying for a test with some new kids on the sixth floor and then going see a movie. In retrospect, Agatha should have questioned her granddaughter more closely. She glared at the phone and picked it up. The buttons were large, glowing rectangles and she pushed them gingerly, uncomfortable with the process. The phone began ringing and she placed it against her ear, pressing her earrings against her face as she listened for Bekka’s voice.

“Hello?” her granddaughter said.

“Bekka, where…”

“I’m not available, now,” continued the recording. “Please leave your message at the beep. Thanks!”

Agatha hung up. Either her granddaughter’s phone was off or Bekka was avoiding her call. She glowered at the door. If her granddaughter was ignoring her, she was going to be grounded for a long time, birthday or no.

Usually, Bekka could be counted on. Her friends were good kids. These new ones, however, Agatha knew nothing about them. She thought about her friend’s stories, but didn’t think her granddaughter was into anything like that. Her granddaughter had always been responsible.

Which was why, when she finally got home, Agatha was so furious.

“Grandma,” Bekka said in surprise. She’d probably expected Agatha to be asleep.

“Where have you been?”

Her granddaughter’s green eyes went wide. Agatha almost felt sorry for her, or would have if she hadn’t been so furious. There was snow on the girl’s coat and the trim of a lacy, white dress peeked out. She was even wearing heels.

“I…I…”

“You told me you’d be back hours ago! Do you know how worried I’ve been?”

“I didn’t mean to be out so late,” her granddaughter explained. “We lost track of time.”

“What were you doing?”

“Well…we were studying…”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“I know that part,” Agatha interrupted, pointing at her granddaughter’s dress. “I want to hear about the part that required you to wear that.”

The girl looked down, “We went to a party.”

“Where? Whose house?”

Bekka shook her head, her long locks hiding her expression. “No one you know.”

Agatha bit the inside of her mouth. She couldn’t believe Bekka had done this. “And this was your new friend’s idea?” she asked.

“No. Well, it was actually my idea to start with. I suggested we go out. They thought it was a good idea.”

“But where did you go?” Agatha asked again, making her words hard.

Her granddaughter didn’t answer, but looked at the floor.

“Come here, Bekka.”

Slowly, the girl took off her heels and placed them on the mat by the door. She looked miserable, but Agatha couldn’t feel sorry for her. Someone needed to parent the girl and there wasn’t anyone else. Every day she wished her own children were alive. On days like this, that sad hole inside her filled with anger. The girl needed her mother and father.

As soon as Bekka started across the room, Agatha could tell she’d been drinking. Even without the heels, her granddaughter’s balance was off, her motions slower and sloppier. And when she stopped in front of her, Agatha could smell the cigarettes and beer.

“You’ve been drinking?” the words popped out of her mouth, one angry syllable at a time.

Bekka looked up, “I had a beer or two. I know what you’re going to say, but I’m a senior now and it isn’t like…”

“You’re seventeen!” Agatha growled.

“It isn’t like I’ve done this before, but everyone goes to parties, Grandma. It’s kind of like a rite of passage in high school. Everyone…”

Agatha seethed, “And would you jump off a cliff if that was what everyone else was doing? I raised you to think, Bekka, not follow everyone else.”

“It was just a few beers.”

“Alcohol is a drug,” she countered. “It impairs your ability to think.”

“Nothing happened,” her granddaughter sighed, meeting her eyes. “We didn’t get into any trouble and no one tried to bother us.”

“Then you were lucky,” Agatha declared. “This city is full of people who’d love to get their hands on you.”

“We weren’t even on the street for that long. We took a cab.”

“To where?” Agatha asked again. “And I want an answer.”

Bekka glanced at her bedroom door. “Umm…do we really have to do this tonight? I know you are mad, but couldn’t we talk in the morning.”

“I want to know where you were, Bekka. Trust works both ways and so far you’ve been nothing but evasive. You already broke my rules. At minimum, I deserve to know why.”

“But we weren’t even doing anything,” the girl whined.

“Smoking and drinking is not nothing.”

“I wasn’t smoking.”

Agatha crossed her arms. “You reek of cigarettes, Bekka. As to whether or not you smoked them, you tell me. And right now, I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“I wouldn’t do that!” her granddaughter protested.

“I didn’t think you drink and stay out for hours either. Now, where were you, Bekka?”

Her granddaughter sighed, “We went to the college.”

Agatha was confused, “For what?”

“Because,” Bekka explained, “they have parties there. They’re called frats, Grandma.”

Agatha sighed. “Fine. I’m glad you told me. Go to bed. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

As Bekka’s door closed, she shook her head sadly. The last thing she wanted was to fight with the girl. She went into her own room to change into her nightdress. As she did every night, she bade the picture of her husband goodnight, stopping to peer at the little figurines on her desk. Each one was a happy memory from this new world-- places she had gone with Bekka or special moments in her granddaughter’s life.

She slumped into her chair. Her bed was big and empty and her mind too filled with worry for sleep. Agatha sat there for some time, thinking and watching the shadows. From what her friends told her, she knew that Bekka’s behavior wasn’t out of the ordinary, but drinking at college and traipsing about the city at night was dangerous. She was grateful her granddaughter was home safe, but she couldn’t help feeling angry and betrayed. At some point, she must have fallen asleep.

There was quick pressure on her legs, enough to make her start, and she woke screaming. Her eyes snapped open, tracking the motion as her hand went for her cane.

She stopped as she recognized the dark blur. “Scottie?” she rasped after her cat.

It was cold in her apartment and the chill was in her bones. It made her stiff and jerky. Goose pimples dotted her arms and her chest heaved against her ribcage.

But it wasn’t just the cold. Her body was reacting to something, the hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention.

She muttered, shaking off the sensation. It was late and full dark. She should have been in bed hours ago. Scottie dashed beneath the kitchen chair and Agatha called to him, trying to coax him out. When he refused to emerge, she shook her head. The stubborn cat was just spooked. He’d come out when he was ready.

She took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow. It was just another night, no different than hundreds of others. Deliberately, she fixed her hair into a bun, twisting the long, white strands and firmly pinning the ends. A little more settled, she pushed herself up. She might be old, but she wasn’t dead. If something was bothering the cat, she might as well figure out what it was. A chill breeze swept through the apartment and she pulled her nightgown tighter.

“Scottie,” she called, as the cooler air pooled about her legs.“Come out of there!”

Rubbing her arms, she wondered if Bekka had left a window open. It wouldn’t be the first time. Her granddaughter spent a lot of time on the fire escape feeding the animals. Or maybe the poor kid felt sick and needed to clear her head. Not wanting to wake her, Agatha decided to check the other rooms first.

There were no windows in the kitchen, so using her cane, Agatha walked carefully towards her own room. The pine handle reassured her, the carved figures of Rae and Wul pressed firmly against her palm. The sun god and moon goddess had always been her favorites and Agatha found power and strength in their scriptures. Saying a quick prayer in her mind, she listened to her slippers whisper against the floor.

She pushed the open door with her elbow. Behind her bed, her family’s painting hung in a golden frame. Her husband stood at the center of a crowd of similar faces and Agatha’s eyes went to him first. He had his arm around her and their eldest, Caroline. She remembered him like it was yesterday-- young and handsome, the smell of his breath after his tea and the tickle of his beard against her cheek. She could almost feel the weight of his arm against her shoulders.

She wanted to close her eyes, to let herself be lost in that moment. He was dead and gone, years and years gone. She had to be here. Her granddaughter needed her and that silly girl was letting all the heat out. Agatha took a last look, her eyes lingering on the rest of her children. Those eight smiling faces together were too much. Loss welled, rushing through her. She accepted it, letting it sink into her as it had done so many times before. Then, she let it melt away.

The rest of her room was just as she left it, with the small, ceramic figures lined-up beside her bed. She huffed and checked the window’s lock. Scottie’s warm fur brushed against her leg and she reached down to pat his side. Getting old was bad enough. She didn’t need to jump at shadows.

Agatha stepped over her cat and checked the bathroom. The light was on and everything was clean. Her pink towel hung on the shower rail and her granddaughter’s bathroom supplies were tub-side. She checked the unopened window and then made her way to Bekka’s room.

She would have preferred to let her granddaughter sleep and sober up. With the impending change, Bekka should be resting and growing strong, not staying up late and poisoning herself with alcohol. Rationally, she knew that the cold, unnerving breeze was just her bones remembering their age. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

She turned the knob and opened her granddaughter’s door. The room was dark, but Agatha could see the shelf above Bekka’s bed and the stuffed animals whose eyes glinted in the half-light. The rocking chair was piled high with laundry and the window seemed to be open a crack.

Child, Agatha thought. Only the young could sleep this soundly in January cold. Agatha closed the window and secured the lock. The icy rain had left a puddle on the windowsill and she wiped it with laundry from the chair. She turned to the bed, thinking to kiss her granddaughter’s cheek, but saw only a smallish lump beneath the covers.

Hurrying forward, she pulled back the heavy blankets. A stuffed animal was the only occupant. Fear surged inside her. She had just walked the length and breadth of the apartment. Her granddaughter was not home.

“Bekka?”

Agatha flicked the light switch and the room burst into color. Everything was as it should be. There were a pile of schoolbooks on her granddaughter’s dresser and her computer and jewelry sat on her table. Agatha reopened the window and hung outside, searching the fire scape. “Bekka? Are you out here?”

No one answered. There was just the whining wind and the hum of the city. She thought about hauling herself out of the window, decided against it.

“Bekka? Please, honey, answer me,” she yelled as Scottie hopped onto the windowsill and meowed.

“Bekka!” she tried shouting up the steps.

Nothing.

If her granddaughter was out there, Agatha couldn’t hear her. She shooed the cat off the sill and closed the window. It didn’t make sense. Bekka wouldn’t be on the fire escape, not in a blizzard. Agatha rushed to her bedroom, her cane tapping.

Scottie beat her there. He sat on her mattress, water from his fur slowly dripping on her comforter.

“Where could she have gone?” she asked the animal. “Surely, she isn’t sleep-walking.”

The cat lay down and started to clean his paws, his pink tongue drying his fur with each lick.

“What am I supposed to do? You don’t think she is outside, do you?” Pulling out a pair of pants, she began to change. “Bekka could have gone early, but, I...oh, I hope not.” Agatha grabbed more clothes from her dresser, she lay them on the bed. Her mind was whirling, calculating.

Perhaps Bekka had gone back to see the kids downstairs, snuck out of the apartment for more mischief. But if that were the case, why would she have left her window open? Her granddaughter wouldn’t have used the fire escape, she was sure of it. And she didn’t think Bekka would try to sneak passed her, not while she was sleeping in the armchair.

“She didn’t go outside,” she told Scottie, feeling her heart race. “There would have been footprints.” She shuddered. “What if it was tonight? It could have happened right after our argument. If Bekka had her adaugeo…”

Agatha stared around her room, “Oh gods. If she came into her Power and Traveled…she’ll be terrified!” She touched Scottie for reassurance, her hand lying on his damp fur. “What if she’s alone in Eganene?”

Her granddaughter wouldn’t have gone far. Traveling worked best if you were familiar with the place you wanted to Travel to. This world and Eganene were like mirrors reflecting one another. “She’s probably just in this same apartment,” she told her cat. But where she had gone wasn’t the only thing to consider.

“What if the Family felt her change?” Bekka’s arrival would have been a majical concussion. One that would have been felt for miles. Traveling had been rare in her day. It would be more so now. The Family would start tracking her the instant she arrived.

“But I still have time,” Agatha said, making her way to her dresser. “We can move cities again. Disappear.” She pulled out a sweater and a heavy pair of pants.

The cat continued to lick himself.

“Are you even listening?” she asked him. “I’m going to have to go after her.”

Scottie’s oval pupils narrowed slightly before he returned to his paws.

“Fine then,” she huffed, trying to swat him off the bed. “You better hope I make it there and back, you dumb old cat, or they’ll be no food for you.” Opening her jewelry case, she found her necklace. Her hands were shaking and it took her too long to fasten it around her neck. She picked up her cane and sat. “I’m going now,” she told him. “Are you coming?”

The cat stood up slowly, stretching each of its legs in turn and then crawled into her lap.