Warm, lavender scented water cocooned her, soothing the ache from her worn muscles. The intense heat baked the soreness out. The slight scent made everything refreshing. Her eyes were closed, but she was awake, her head empty, for once. Thoughtless. There were only the sensations. Darkness. Heat. Lavender. A really annoying drip once every seven seconds from the tap. Every time it happened, she thought about reaching down and turning the tap more firmly off, but it was so far away, and she was so comfortable.
She opened her eyes long after the bathwater had cooled and thought about getting out, but lay there for another ten minutes until cooled became cold. Eventually she rose, dripping, and stepped onto the floor. The towel was cotton, so she had to use her hands to move it across her body, mopping the water from her skin. She held it in one hand and reached behind herself, easily drying her back.
She walked from the bathroom to her bedroom naked, dropping the wet towel in her washing basket, then dressed in the clothes she had set out before going for her bath. Her movements were slow, her muscles still aching. The fight last night had been hard, but she had levelled from it. She still didn’t understand what triggered a level. The first time had been her birthday, and that was universal amongst all the teens who had powers. The second time had been fighting Brick, the third had been the fire, the fourth when she rescued Violet, the fifth, last night.
At one point, she’d wondered if it was encountering others with powers that caused her to level. Perhaps the second level had been encountering Brick, the third had been encountering the teenagers in the warehouse. Perhaps she levelled whenever she met someone who also levelled? But that didn’t seem to be the case: her fourth and fifth levels had not involved encounters with anyone that had powers, and the other teenagers had not levelled through encounters.
She had wondered if it was fighting that made her level, but her second fight with Brick had not taken her higher. Now, Stella had a new theory that seemed to fit. The second time she had levelled was when she rescued DI Donald from Brick. The third time when she rescued the teenagers in the warehouse. The fourth when she rescued Violet. Technically, last night she had rescued the Elephant Boys from the Sabini gang, and then had rescued the Sabini gang from the Elephant Boys.
She had both Heroic Form and Heroic Presence as Abilities, and acting heroically seemed to raise her level higher.
Which was annoying. Oh, it was her destiny to be a hero, but that was after the apocalypse. The apocalypse hadn’t happened yet. It might not ever happen. She was no leader of the last band of humanity trying to bring back civilisation. She didn’t want to be a hero in the city, mostly because she had no idea what she was doing.
She’d fought thirty one gangsters last night. Someone had almost shot her in the face! Every part of her body was sore today. She had bluffed them into stopping.
Actually, that part had been hilarious.
When she was dressed, she paused for a moment, turning her clothes into a light blue, like a summer sky, then headed downstairs. She found Violet in the kitchen, wearing the grey dress she’d selected as her outside the house outfit. Without a word, the maid heaped freshly made pancakes and strawberries on a plate.
“Pancakes?” Stella asked.
“Breakfast,” Violet corrected her.
Stella took the plate and cutlery into the morning room, where Violet had already set out the Sunday edition of the London Eye. She read the paper as she ate her breakfast. The pancakes were delicious. The news, less so.
The Western Federation had opened a new embassy in Cusco, and there were quotes from the Western Federation’s Speaker of Nations, Azanìcho Soka’islà, and Tupaq Yupanqui III, the Sapa Inka of Tawantinsuyu, on how this was the dawn of a new era of two great native American powers. An English motorist had set a new land speed record, but the French were refusing to accept the result. Two members of the 1920 British Antarctic expedition, who’d been marooned in Antarctica for a year, were arriving in Newcastle today.
It was a better front page than yesterday’s had been.
She was finishing her last strawberry when Violet entered the room. “Pancakes were a wonderful choice for breakfast.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Is it okay if I handle the washing up later today?” Violet asked, as she gathered up the dishes. She seemed to be moving slowly today, as if she had been the one fighting gangs last night. Moving and speaking slowly. The whole world seemed slow.
“Certainly.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’m going to head to Church now, if that’s okay?”
Stella watched Violet for a moment after she stopped speaking. The maid’s heartbeat was faster than usual, and there was a sheen of sweat across her dark skin. Even her pupils seemed larger than normal, and Stella realised she was observing her pupils from across eight feet of space. “Alright, I’ll see you later.”
Violet stopped near the door, not moving, not speaking, just watching Stella with her solemn dark eyes, with their unusually large pupils. Her heart was a constant drum, like a jazz band had taken up residence in her chest. Her breath hitched repeatedly.
“Is something wrong?” Stella asked.
“No, milady,” Violet lied. Stella could tell instantly it was a lie. The way her heartbeat sped up. The scent of her hormones. Her blood flowing more quickly.
“Alright, well, enjoy Church then.”
Violet continued to stand in front of the doorway in silent stillness, holding the breakfast dishes in her hands.
“Are you sure nothing is wrong?” Stella asked. “Do I need to dismiss you or something? I don’t want to do that, Violet. You can come and go as you need to.”
“Do you want to come to Church, ma’am?”
“No.”
Violet stood in silence and stared at Stella. It was actually quite unnerving. She was beginning to see what, maybe, the gangsters had felt last night when she had talked them into running away. Stella wasn’t good at social interactions, but Violet clearly wanted her to come to church, and the maid clearly wasn’t going to ask. It didn’t seem to be about pushing religion on Stella either. Stella considered that for a moment, and then realised Violet was probably still scared of the Sabinis. She hadn’t left the house without Stella since she had arrived. Stella sighed. “I suppose I can see if there are any good places in the church to stockpile food.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Not long after that, they left the house together, heading towards the High Street. Before reaching it, however, they cut south along The Grove to Highgate West Hill, and headed down from there. St. Anne’s was only a twenty minute walk from the house, but Stella had never been before.
Seven times, Stella had to force herself to walk more slowly. Violet just didn’t seem to have any speed today.
When they reached the church, the bell was already tolling, and people were coming from every direction in twos and threes, wearing their Sunday best. Everyone was walking as if they were moving through molasses. Violet wasn’t unusually slow, Stella was fast.
Other people were standing in the church doorway, greeting everyone as they arrived. Two men and a woman, one of the men smelling of pipe smoke. The woman had used a lemon-scented soap in her hair. Stella had no idea who they were. Staff? Volunteers? Random people?
She followed Violet in and they took a seat near the rear. She was already feeling uneasy. What would her mum think of her attending Church? What would she say? Her mum had said Violet was in charge of everything that wasn’t powers- or criminals-related, so Violet was in charge of going to church, by her mother’s own rules, but that wasn’t the kind of logical assessment Selene would easily accept.
It took seven minutes for everyone to file in and find their seats, and she catalogued the smells in the old building. The slightly damp mortar that held together the old stones. The wood, mostly oak, some birch. The congregation, perfumes and sweat and soap and breakfast. She could smell milk on several people’s breath, bacon on at least two, and one man had eaten an orange recently. It mingled in the air with the tallow from the candles.
After another three minutes of quiet fidgeting before a man came to stand in front of them.
He was wearing the black clothes and white collar that said he was a father or a priest or something.
“Thank you for coming here today,” he started, and went on somewhat about something or other. Stella wasn’t really paying attention. She was separating silk strands in the hem of her skirt and using them to spell help, I’m being indoctrinated. If nothing else, it amused her.
After a few moments, she felt the weight of Violet’s glare, and stopped. Then everyone stood up, and she did too, and the congregation sang. Stella mumbled a few indeterminable words in a vaguely similar rhythm.
They sat and the priest spoke. They bowed their heads and he prayed for them and Stella added her own silent prayer. God, if you’re making me level and giving me these powers could you also give me an explanation and if you’re not, if it’s a demon or something, please don’t strike it down because I like it. “Amen.”
Then they stood and sang again. Then they sat and he talked about the recent explosions, and prayed the wayward women behind them found their way to God’s grace and their husbands’ forgiveness, and she really wanted to slap him. Sure, the suffragettes’ shouldn’t be bombing offices, but they also didn’t need to be under a man’s control. That kind of thinking was why they were suffragettes in the first place.
Then they stood and sang. Then they bowed their heads and prayed. Then he spoke about faithfulness in an unfaithful age, and read from the bible. In Latin, which she was relatively sure she was the only one who understood, because no one else sniggered when he declaimed: “propter hoc dabit Dominus ipse vobis signum ecce virga concipiet et pariet filium et vocabitur nomen eius Emmanuel.”
Her mind wandered, his droning voice boring her, and she found herself considering the two new Abilities she had been given when she levelled up. After the warehouse fire, when she had rescued the teenagers, she had been given the Ability Pyroguard Flameslow. She hadn’t had a chance to test it yet, but based on the name it seemed to make her silk fire resistant. Maybe? She wouldn’t know until she tested it, but she was fairly certain that was the purpose of the Ability.
She’d been shot at last night and today had received the Ability Armourweave. If it made her silk bulletproof, then that suggested her Abilities were reacting to situations she found herself in. As the sermon wore incessantly onwards, she found herself testing the new theory, going over each Ability and what she had faced before receiving it.
The first level could possibly be ignored. Every teenager with powers she had spoken to shared the same initial trigger, their sixteenth birthday. Until she had more data points, she was accepting that as universal. Sure, she’d accepted it as universal when she only had two data points, or one and a half. Ronnie had been sixteen, but she hadn’t been sure his powers activated on his birthday. Now, though, she had over one hundred and fifty data points in favour of the birthday power unlock, so that was tentatively accepted.
Her second level had given her two Abilities. Octoweave mind gave her greater fine control over her tentacles. Chromoweave let her change the colours of her silk. That level had come after fighting Ronnie in a dock yard, leading him like a matador with a bull, and making him charge into things or dropping things on his head. She hadn’t needed colour to do any of that, though she definitely would have flapped a red cape at him if she had one. More control over her tentacles… maybe. The fight would have been easier if she had more control, but it felt inconclusive.
The third level had been after the warehouse fire and might have given her fire protection. It had given her Heroic Presence and she’d wondered at the time if that was the Voice telling the future, intuiting that she would soon meet a priest, but Heroic Presence did more than just make her shiny when she met priests. It was reassurance and intimidation, and it might have stopped Diego from attacking her, if she’d had it then.
After she’d saved Violet she’d received an upgrade to octoweave mind that let her have four different tracks of thought temporarily. It was difficult to use and didn’t last long, but it was powerful. Her other new sense was Silkfield Awareness, which detected incoming attacks and blocked them unconsciously. Both of them would have been really useful in that fight. She didn’t know if either of them had been a result of the fight, though.
Then she had received Intercept and Armourweave. She had no idea what Intercept did, and she didn’t know if Armourweave actually would stop a bullet, but two of the four times she had received Abilities after her birthday had maybe had Abilities that related to what she had been doing before levelling up.
Annoyingly inconclusive.
Frustrated, Stella unconsciously growled softly, then flinched at the glare Violet directed her way.
At least the… ceremony? Sermon? Church thing? At least the church thing seemed to be over, except for a little collection tray that went around. People had been dropping shillings into it. Stella placed a five pound note down and passed it across Violet to the next person in line.
Previous Chapter: Chapter Thirty-eight
Next Chapter: Chapter Forty
Author’s Note
I did a queerguide on making scenes in churches not be boring. You can read it here.
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