Nevia

The journey begins...

Although I wasn’t born with the proverbial ‘silver spoon’ in my mouth, I guess I had a pretty good life. My parents were still together, I had gotten a good education, and we lived a respectable life. I wasn’t very lonely, either, since Mason was always hanging around. I always had the strange feeling that something was missing from me, though, but I never told anyone that. My parents refused to discuss the spirits, and I never bothered to ask about them.

 

I probably should have.

 

Nevia strode into her apartment with a sigh, shutting the door behind her with a slam and wincing at the bang. “Whoops,” she squeaked, tossing her black trenchcoat onto the back of her couch before looking around for a moment suspiciously, making sure nothing was out of place. Living a few blocks from her job, and only a few streets down from the ‘bad’ side of town, she kept a baseball bat next to her front door, and one in her car just in case.

 

Tucking a strand of her red-brown hair behind her ear, she headed to the phone that rested near the wall, checking to see if there were any messages for her. Sure enough, there was a light blinking, and she pressed the button slowly, knowing who it would be.

“Hi, honey. This is mom – I’m just calling to let you know your dad’s coming home early tonight, so if you wanted to come over for dinner, just drop by. I’m making something new, so I need someone to tell me what they think! Give me a call back. Love you!”

“Oh, mom,” the twenty-five groaned, unable to convince her mother she was capable of living on her own even after two years had passed. Deleting it with a press of another button, she turned her back and removed her long scarf, rubbing her hands together to get the feeling back into them. Kicking off her pumps, she briefly considered – yet again – getting a pet to greet her, but dismissed the idea in the next moment, not feeling like cleaning up after one.

The fledging journalist tried to wear decent clothes to the office, but sorely regretted wearing the business-like black skirt in the cold weather, her calves having long gone numb. Hopping down the hall to her bedroom as she pulled her stockings off, she yelped as she fell into the door, muttering under her breath as she slammed the door behind her. She reappeared several minutes later, her long hair smoothly brushed down her back as usual. Due to the price of indoor heating, she had instead opted for portable heaters during the freezing weather, and had donned a heavy crimson sweater that was just a little too big, rolled up at the neck and wrists. Her jeans were tucked into her slightly-heeled boots, tan that went up her calves snugly.

Blowing on her nose in an attempt to warm it, she briefly considered her options for her dinner before sighing loudly to herself, mostly to break the silence.

“I guess I’ll go to the diner again,” she announced to her small domain, and reached again for her coat as she pulled gloves onto her hands. Shoving a floppy black hat onto her head, she wrapped her scarf around her neck once more as she headed out the door, her bag slung onto her shoulder with her keys and wallet inside.

 

Although it wasn’t in the best location of the city, the neighborhood where she lived was the only option available to her, but was still relatively quiet. Nevia, thanks to her job, had learned all about the scientific principles and logical applications of sorcery long ago, as well as the latest rumors of renegade spirits – both of which had existed since before she was born. These hadn’t changed modern life much, however, especially for later generations, who had grown up with disease-curing words and elemental-wielding stones. Most normal people didn’t even bother with it, which had in turn kept the vast majority of cities the same as they had been for almost a century.

 

The small city – more like a large town – she lived in, however, was unaffected by it for the most part, and a pleasant enough place to live, as long as you watched your back. Her hands shoved into her pockets, she didn’t even jump when someone slung their arm around her shoulder and leaned heavily on her, almost making her fall over.

“You’re no fun, chick,” he complained, and she graced him with a roll of her gray eyes.

“Sorry, Mason, I guess it just doesn’t work anymore,” she said calmly, enjoying his annoyance.

“So, how did the grindstone go today?” he asked, the words slurring in his British accent, and his speech a bit jumpy as it always was. She glanced over at the twenty-nine year-old briefly, noticing his brown hair was mussed and his bright cornflower-blue eyes staring at her as usual.

“The same. How did your day go?”

“The same, the same,” he nodded, tripping a bit over his feet as they continued to walk. “Not much to say, you know?”

“You haven’t been drinking again, have you?” she asked with a frown, and he returned her face with a frown of his own.

“No! No, of course not, chick,” he protested as if offended. “I can’t believe you’d think I’d go so low.”

“Ah, yes, only three times a week, am I right?” she said pointedly, and he sighed.

“All right, chick, what’s bothering you?” Mason asked, surprisingly astute for someone who had been at the bottle since lunchtime.

“It’s nothing,” she shrugged, but the weight of his arm wasn’t removed from her shoulders. A grayish motorcycle windbreaker was zippered tight, the collar rising to his chin, and scrungy blue jeans frayed at the bottom on top of brown work boots.

“Don’t give me that,” he chided her.

“Stop being so serious – it’s scary,” Nevia told him, trying to distract her friend, but he only persisted in his line of questioning.

“Are you having those pains again?” he demanded, and she remained silent for a moment before sighing.

“A little, yeah,” she admitted.

“I thought you saw a doctor, chick.”

“I did – he said there wasn’t anything wrong. I’m taking aspirin,” she protested, a bit disgruntled at being lectured by the degenerate young man. “And you’re certainly not one to lecture me, Mason.”

“Point taken,” he agreed, removing his hand and shoving them into his pockets, fingerless gloves looking like they had seen better days.

 

Before I go any further, I should probably tell you a little bit about Mason. I’ve known him since I was old enough to crawl. He’s always been hanging around like some homeless bum since I was nine, and before that he just was always around. We’ve always been good friends, but my parents are less-than-thrilled that I ‘associate’ with him. After all, he drinks, does whatever drugs are available, smuggles drugs, drinks, steals from deceased people at funeral homes, and did I mention drink? Oh, and he does drugs, too. But, even though he’s a complete mess, he’s always been a good friend. Except that time I caught him going through my room looking for something valuable. But that’s just Mason. We seem to look out for each other.

 

“Hey, chick, you still here?” Mason asked, snapping his fingers in front of her face.

 

“What? Oh, yeah, I just kinda zoned out, I guess,” she laughed nervously, and he peered at her in concern.

“You don’t look that good – too pale,” he announced. “They’re worse, aren’t they?”

“Not really,” Nevia hedged, and sighed loudly when he offered her a whitish baggie. “Mason, we already went through this. I’m not taking any coke.”

“If you’re sure,” he said reluctantly, tucking it away somewhere in his jacket after a few more moments of waiting to see whether she would give in. Looking back to her, he blinked in surprise at the face she was making at him. “It’s not for me, chick,” he told her hastily. “I’m selling this batch.”

“If you say so,” she shrugged. “You’re an adult.”

“By the way, I saw you have some new neighbors,” he began casually, and she eyed him suspiciously when he continued. “Know anything about them?”

“Nope.”

“Rich?”

“I’m not going to help you rob our neighbors, Mason.”

“Not even a watch?” he persisted.

“No!”

“You’re cold-blooded, chick,” he informed her stiffly, and groaned when she shot him a dirty look.

“Go back to beating parking meters apart with a baseball bat,” she suggested. “You’ll go farther.”

“Not if I’m caught again,” Mason said, trying to appear dignified and instead only looking like he was overdue for a bowel movement.

“Stop walking like that,” Nevia ordered, poking him in the side. “You look like someone shoved something up your a*s.”

“Fine, fine,” he agreed, immediately slouching once more. “Did you hear the latest, chick?” he asked suddenly, whispering out of the corner of his mouth. She stopped in curiosity near the park sign, and peered at him.

“No. About what?” she asked, and he furtively looked around to make sure no one was listening. It was unlikely, since the day was windy and overcast, threatening snow before night fell.

“The water spirit – Salil,” he continued. “It was spotted over the Indian Ocean a few days ago.”

“Who told you that?” she asked skeptically. “One of your reliable drug smuggling friends?”

“No – well, yes,” he nodded. “But he’s reliable, honest!”

“And you’re telling me why?” she asked, her tone suddenly colder than the air blowing in their faces. An uncomfortable tightness had settled in her left arm, and it felt like someone had tugged it from her body.

“I thought you’d be interested,” he said defensively, and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re all right, darlin’? You really don’t look too well.”

“I’m fine – I guess I’m colder than I thought,” she muttered, turning away and beginning to walk away from the park entrance. Mason stared after her for a moment before jogging determinedly and quickly catching up to her, where he easily kept pace with her strides. She only came to his shoulder, giving him height advantage in their fights.

“You’re not having any more of those weird-a*s dreams again, are you?” he checked, and she looked at him in both surprise and annoyance.

“Why?”

“Because you’re too f*****g touchy, and you haven’t acted like this since you had ‘em the last time,” he explained patiently. “Eating anything abnormal before bedtime, are we?”

“I’m not a damn kid, Mason!” she suddenly yelled, stopping in her tracks and turning to glare at him. “Stop treating me like I am!”

“Sorry, chick,” he apologized after a moment of stunned silence, and followed her as she once more began to walk. “Mind if I stop by for a bit to eat?” he asked calmly, and she snorted.

“You know my dad’ll beat you.”

“I can wait out in the street.”

“I was going out to eat.”

“I can wait –”

“Mason!” Nevia exclaimed, pausing a moment to look at him in amazement before narrowing her eyes. “What’s the matter now?”

“Nothing!” he protested innocently. “I’m hungry, and it’s bloody cold. And I hate sleeping in snow,” he added pleadingly, gazing at her until she groaned.

“Oh, fine, we’ll go over my house,” she mumbled.

“Thanks, chick.”

 

“Hello, Mason,” her mother greeted him, her tone one of resignation and slight disgust.

 

“Hello, Mrs. Gallagher,” he replied cheerfully, unzippering his jacket and shoving his hands in his pockets protectively, as if she was going to search him bodily.

“I decided to come over, and invited him to dinner, mom,” Nevia said nervously, stepping out from behind the man and staring at her mother in silent communication. After a moment, the woman nodded with a sigh and headed back to the kitchen.

“Your father called a bit ago – he should be home soon,” her mother called, and Nevia glanced at the clock in surprise. It had taken them longer than she had thought to arrive at her parents’ place, and she shrugged out of her coat and hung it up on the rack.

“Mason, take the coat off,” she ordered, but he shook his head stubbornly. “Oh, get off it,” she said impatiently, tugging his sleeve. “No one’s going to go through your jacket. God forbid. Now, take it off.”

At this command, he immediately relinquished control of his arms, and stood sullenly as Nevia dragged the coat off of him and hung it up as well.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it,” she pointed out dryly, heading for the couch. “Behave, too. Dad’s been in a lousy mood lately.”

“How’s David doing?” Mason asked, following her to the couch and jumping over the back of it to land on the cushions with a sigh.

“He’s fine – finally holding a job,” she shook her head, rolling her eyes at the mention of her older brother. He had moved out several years before Nevia finished college, and couldn’t seem to find a job that suited him any longer than six months.

“How have you been, Mason?” Mrs. Gallagher asked a bit stiffly, coming into the kitchen as she wiped her hands off on her apron.

“Oh, I’ve been fine, Mrs. Gallagher,” he told her, looking up in surprise at her question. “Thanks for caring.”

“Hm,” she snorted, but let the sarcastic comment otherwise pass. “Nevia, can you set the table?”

“Sure thing,” the young woman nodded, and glanced sharply at Mason, who remained lounging on the sofa. “Come on, you,” she ordered, hands on her hips as she stared at him. “I’m not that stupid,” she informed him, when he stared at her innocently. “You can sit at the table while I set it. And don’t touch anything!” she hissed, as he got up and stretched lazily.

“I know, chick,” Mason said calmly. A little too calmly for Nevia, who eyed him suspiciously as she herded him into the dining room.

 

“What’s he doing here?” Nevia’s father demanded, coming into his house after a long day at work, only to be met by the person who most disgusted him.

 

“He’s over for dinner, dad,” Nevia said calmly, “Mom said it was okay.”

“All right,” he said grudgingly, casting another glance towards the young man before turning his back to hang up his coat. “Where is your mother, anyway?”

“In the kitchen, dear!” she called, and Nevia sighed in relief as her father headed toward the kitchen to greet her mother, leaving her alone. She and her father had never had the best relationship, due to his pinning all hopes on her brother and working constantly, and while it hadn’t worsened, things hadn’t improved since she moved, either.

“What a crank,” Mason grumbled, and she shot him a dirty look before striding over and grabbing him by the ear. “Ow-ow-ow-ow!” he yelped, wincing as she pulled him to his feet silently. “What was that for, chick?” he protested, rubbing the sore appendage, but she only stared calmly at him for a moment before pointing towards the dining room, indicating an empty chair. “All right,” he grumbled, shuffling over to the seat and falling into it. Nevia sighed to herself, feeling like a babysitter to the man whenever he was at her parents’ house, but there was no help for it.

Author's Note

A strange little chapter. Any thoughts are wanted!