Stars Align

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"Hey, time to wake up over there."

Rivkah looked up from the hand mirror at the man standing across the room from her at an easel. The man nodded at her, pushing up his glasses with paint-covered hands, leaving a drop of red on the bridge of his glasses. "How you feeling?"

Rivkah dropped the mirror on the bed next to her, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. "...Tired," she said, for lack of a better word. A better word might be... distant? Like the feeling you got after a long time spent daydreaming. "What time is it?"

"Nine," Dylan said, his light brown curls falling down between his glasses and his eyes as he turned back to his painting. He blew up at the hair, trying to get it out without using his hands. "See anything?"

Rivkah shook her head. "Jack shit," she said, blinking hard. "Maybe something, but I don't remember it."

"Don't let it discourage you. Probably we haven't found the right medium for you yet," he said, studying his painting. "It's easy to get lost looking, too."

"I know," she muttered, standing up and stumbling as her legs nearly gave way. She felt way too weak after that.

"I was gonna order pizza soon if you want any," Dylan said, putting down his palette on a table near the easel. "You probably shouldn't go out yet like that,"

"Pizza is awesome," Rivkah said, wandering over towards the window and pulling open the blinds. She stared down from Dylan's window on the fifth floor of his apartment complex to the city below. Clubs were starting to light up already, filling up with college kids drinking and dancing away the weekend. Dylan lived in the heart of the 'college' district of the city, near the university campus - the guys who lived there called it Dinkytown.

She heard the sound of running water as Dylan turned the sink on. "You gonna go out and join them?" he asked.

Rivkah shrugged. "Maybe. Why the hell not."

"Don't start," Rivkah snapped as Dylan gave her a look. "I didn't do shit. It's whatever business that bastard was doing yesterday that started this, I just got dragged into it."

Dylan cleared his throat. "Rivkah, it would be nice if you could elaborate on that?"

Rivkah shot him a glare. He was acting... odd. Rivkah shrugged. "I saw him meet with another man yesterday. Today that man runs into my store to hide from those losers and plants some trace on me to shake his followers."

Rivkah grinned. "If you shaved your head, you'd shed less." Dylan let out a heavy sigh behind her as Rivkah walked about in front of him. "Really, you're pretty damn careless."

"Rivkah, what did I say about cursing strangers," Dylan said flatly.

"Probably something stupid," she said, waving a hand.

Dylan sighed. "Aye," he said, giving Rivkah a puppy-eyed look over his shoulder. Rivkah shook her head with a smirk. She wasn't saving him this time.

The Coven had a bit of a bizarre structure. Coven liked to have their hands in every witch's business, so most witches were registered, and guaranteed all the protections the Coven provided they followed its rules. They also were supposed to be available if ever called on for assistance by those in the actual coven hierarchy - people like this bitch.

Least now she had a name for the silver surfer, if she could bloody well remember it. "I can take the bus back," Rivkah said to Dylan. She needed to get shoes.

Rivkah unlocked the door to the apartment and opened it, closing it and making sure to lock it behind her. She checked all the windows to see if they were locked too, before she finally laid down on the couch.

She pulled out her phone to text Dylan. How's Coven business?

Dylan: I'll be late.

Rivkah: What was that thing anyway?

Dylan: Tell you when I get back. Rather not text about it.

Rivkah put her phone down on her chest and put her arms behind her head. She needed a bloody nap.

Dylan grumbled under his breath as he pulled out his cell phone. "You could do it yourself," he muttered, going through his contacts. Who was he even supposed to call to get in contact with the enforcement division? Hell, what was he even doing here?

He didn't want to be involved in Coven business. He registered to get all the rights that came with, he could follow their rules, but one thing after another... Hey Dylan, can you keep an eye on this black witch at your school? Hell, can you teach that black witch? Hey Dylan, you should help us deal with top secret Coven business while you're at it!

Dylan fiddled with his phone as long as he could before giving up. "Ms. Sanna, I don't know the first thing about Enforcement procedures so I'll be happy to relay your order once I know how to do so." He couldn't keep the bitter edge out of his voice. He wanted to be home so he could make sure Rivkah was okay. She'd stopped texting him back a while ago. Probably just went to sleep, but he was nervous - he still wasn't convinced the prophecy of his painting - whatever it was - had been completed.

She'd grown on him a great deal - he hadn't expected that - and this whole business made him anxious.

Dylan relaxed, quickly regretting his sharp words. "You're fine," he said. "I'm busy enough making sure Riv doesn't summon all the powers of hell," he said. "But thanks."

He sent Rivkah a quick text telling her he was headed back and nodded to Katie, stepping out and immediately picking up his pace as soon as he was out of sight.

The next few days were boring as hell. Rivkah was back and out of classes and work, and Dylan was busy working on paintings for his art show later in the month. That last prophetic painting he kept in his room, she saw once looking through the door - he claimed he was planning on adding it to his gallery, but she got the sense it made him nervous. Like maybe the events of the painting hadn't unfolded yet.

It was pretty damn specific, though. For one, she was clearly holding a revolver where she appeared in the painting, and that already occurred. For another, she wasn't planning on ever seeing the silver surfer again. He was nothing but trouble.

She spent her free time doing research. Demonology had always interested her, and she'd picked up yet another text of that variety and was working her way through it. And it wasn't like there was anything else to do - she'd tried going out earlier in the week, but every time she did Dylan pulled out puppy eyes and one of her favorite movies and she stayed inside. He wasn't leaving the apartment much either, save for classes. A couple weeks and he'll stop being such a pain, soon as he see the painting isn't relevant anymore.

Rivkah blinked at the kid, answering the door in her pajamas. It was one of those kinds of days. "Yeah, sure," she said, taking the pen and signing the paper. As she took the package, the kid gave her a bright smile and left.

Rivkah closed the door with her foot, walking back inside. "Dylan?" she said, tearing open the neatly wrapped package. "I guess the new address stuck?" she muttered. Last she knew her mom was still getting packages addressed to her from old high school friends.

She opened the package to see a single white rose inside. She frowned at it. "Not my style," she said, reaching down to pull it out so she could throw it in the garbage.

The rose turned black in an instant, and Rivkah was thrown across the room, falling back hard on top of the table and rolling backwards off of it. "Riv?!" she heard Dylan yell, and he threw open the door to his room, music drifting out after him.

"Bloody fuck," Rivkah groaned, feeling at her chest. She felt like she'd just been shot - a lot - but without any of the blood and just the force. "Christ," she said, grimacing as she pushed off the ground with both her arms and felt a sharp pain in her chest.

Dylan was at her side immediately, his Torah in his hand. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"The hell does it look like?" she snapped. Dylan fumbled for his phone, pulling it out and pacing out into the center of the room. "It was that damned package thing," she said. "Someone sent me a curse in the mail."

Dylan stopped over the fallen box. The rose had tumbled out of the box and lay delicately on the floor. He skirted around it and checked to make sure the door was locked. "Just - just stay there," he said. Couldn't call a normal ambulance, too many questions about what happened, it'd have to be the Coven.

Dylan stepped back, between Rivkah and the shade that appeared, and muttered a curse under his breath as he hung up and immediately dialed another number.

Rivkah grimaced and laid her head back, banging it softly against the floor. "Fucking kidding me," she muttered. "Stupidest shit..."

"My student," he said, "got a curse sent in a mail by the mob boy who got away last week. She needs medical treatment and protection." He spoke with a voice that demanded attention - it wasn't something Rivkah heard often.

"I'm fine, Dylan," Rivkah said, trying to sit up only to flop back down at the pain in her chest. "Fine..."

"She's not dead," he said. "Or liquified, or anything like that. All things considered it could have been much worse."

He looked at Rivkah starting to try and stand. "What'd he hit you with?"

She grimaced. "Just force. To the chest. Like bullets." She breathed in slowly, feeling the pain from that motion. "I'll be fine."

"Might have a few fractures." Dylan said, turning away. "She's bruised and battered but alive. I'm more concerned by his threat that came with it."

"Got it," Dylan said, as she hung up. He shoved his phone in his pocket and was back over by Rivkah in an instant as she started to walk towards his room. "Whoa, hold up, where you going?"

"I'm putting pants on," she said, waving one hand to push his aside as she made for the door. "I'm not doing this in pajamas."

Rivkah stood up as she finished. "Yeah, thanks," she said, stretching. Her chest still hurt, but she could breathe. As Katie mentioned Caomh she muttered what sounded like a string of swears under her breath as she turned to her books.

"You do what you gotta," Dylan said. "I got this place covered for now."