I certainly cannot complain that I do not find enough to do. The world is such a shadowed place with so many dangers, and yet I find I cannot keep out of it.
Last night, I was with Freya until after midnight—I have been trying to guide her toward a young man in her acquaintance who I think might be a good partner for her. I have not mentioned him here because, frankly, I have not been having much success. She did attend the party I suggested in hopes she would meet him there, but she did not even stay long enough for him to arrive.
I was following her down a dark street in a state of dejection when a sharp stab of fear drew me out of my thoughts. I immediately flew to Freya, but she was unaware of any danger. She has walked down this street many times on her way to her favorite bar, and she is well enough assured of her own ability to defend herself that she does not feel anything more than caution, even alone at night. The fear was coming from someone else—a young woman walking down the other side of the street, clutching her bag and determinedly not looking behind her, where a large, shadowy figure was following.
Of course I could not simply ignore this. I went across the street to join the woman, who though she seemed calm was in a state of panic. She was worried about two more blocks that she had to walk until she reached her car, about the friend who had been supposed to walk her there, about her phone which was out of battery. The man had been following her for several interminable minutes, and the fear rolled from her in waves, now less as she tried to convince herself that she was imagining things, now more as she mentally sorted through the contents of her purse for a possible weapon.
I thought I knew something of fear. I have seen fear in my own charges—fear of vulnerability, fear of giving themselves to another. And I have caught glimpses of a different fear through my work with Inca. This was different. There was no anger to temper this fear, no assurance or hope of protection. The woman was despairing, certain that something terrible was going to happen to her and unable to find anything to prevent it. The fear was maiming her.
It made me angry, and I swept down on the stalker, but the foulness in his mind repelled me. What he thought of doing, what he hoped for…I cannot speak of such things. I wish I had never seen his twisted imaginings.
“Leave,” I commanded him, and I reached out to him, trying to remember how I had repelled Gabrielle’s tormentors weeks ago.
He hesitated, but with this man my words had little power. I do not know if his was a darker soul than theirs, or if the fault lay with my clumsy protection. After only a brief doubt, he continued after his prey.
I considered calling Inca, or even Eburnean, but there was not time or need, for in that moment he noticed Freya.
I do not know what he thought on seeing her. I do not want to know. Nor do I wish to think about what I might have done—or been unable to do—if he had turned on my fire woman. Thankfully, it occurred to me that I had help already, right there with me.
I called to Freya, and she glanced across the street. The other woman had not seen her, but Freya absorbed the situation in a heartbeat, and some of the same righteous anger I felt filled her.
“Casey!” she called, stopping short. “Hey, girl! You’re not leaving already, are you?”
The other woman, whose name is not Casey, looked up, and relief so powerful that it nearly drove her to her knees rushed through her. She bolted across the street to Freya, tears starting in her eyes. Freya, without missing a beat, threw her arms around her as if they were long-time friends.
“Was it Steve again?” she said knowingly. “What did the bastard say this time?”
She was pretending to ignore the stalker, but she was very aware of him, and I had not taken my attention from him for a moment. He was standing still, gauging the situation, trying to decide if he was brave enough to take on the two women together.
Freya put her arm around the other woman. “Come on, I’ll get you a drink and we can face him together,” she said, her voice carrying clearly across the street. “And if he won’t leave you alone after that, I’ll punch his fucking lights out.”
I was worried that this threat would make the stalker angry, but the coward was already slinking away. He prefers his victims not to have any chance of defeating him, I suppose. What a disgusting creature. I wasted no more time on him, returning to Freya and her new friend, walking arm-in-arm down the street.
“Thank you,” the woman finally managed to say. She was wiping away her tears, shaking with shock and relief.
“Hey, girls of a feather have got to stick together,” Freya answered. “Did you know that guy?”
The woman shook her head. “I was at a club with a friend, and I thought it’d be fine walking back to my car with her, but she went off with some guy. I just wanted to get home,” she wailed, shivering.
Freya put her arm around her. “It is okay. You’re safe now. What’s your name?”
“Anna,” the woman sniffed. She is a bit younger than Freya, and really quite beautiful, with brown hair, rich dark eyes, and slender, expressive hands. What a shame it is that beauty can invite such foul feeling—and yet, how true of this cruel world.
“Anna, my name is Freya. Let me walk you back to your car now, okay?”
Anna’s head rose in renewed anxiety. “He really is gone, isn’t he?”
“He is, the fucking coward,” Freya growled, and I was pleased that she thought precisely as I did. “Or he better be. I meant it about punching his lights out.”
This reassured Anna enough for her to give a tiny giggle, which pleased both Freya and me. We both went with her, offering comfort in our own ways. Freya gave Anna her pepper spray—“I have four more at home. People are always giving it to me, I guess because I like to go out at night. But I hardly ever have to use it because most of the time I have friends with me, usually of the leather-wearing and piercing-having variety”—and told her about an app she could keep on her phone that would notify police and record what was happening. Meanwhile I was washing Anna in assurance and strength, reminding her that she was safe, that what she had feared had not happened, and that she would use this experience to make herself safer in future.
By the time we reached her car, Anna was much calmer, though still deeply grateful for the help. “Really, I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there!” she said.
“Well, I was, so it doesn’t matter,” Freya said. “Now you drive safely. I’d feel really stupid if you got yourself killed in a car crash after all the effort I put in tonight.”
I was horrified by the thought, though both women laughed. It worried me enough that I followed Anna home, watching until she was safely inside her apartment with the door bolted. Then I went back to Freya, unable to convince myself that she could take care of herself. She, too, made it home safely.
I am glad that I was there, but it makes my heart hurt to think of how easily I may not have been. I am glad that it was Freya with me, who knew what to do. I know well that there are not enough angels in heaven to protect all the humans from the evil in the world, but how I wish we could! And I certainly mean to do all I can in this vast and long fight, even for those who are not expressly mine to protect.