Gift of Fire

Chapter 2: Wildfire Gossip

Wildfire Gossip

The beer garden at Zum Weißen Hirsch contained a handful of patrons by the time I made it there from the city center. The warm September sun bathed me as I passed through the archway between the oaks that granted the urban beer garden a woodland ambiance. Once evening descended, the outdoor tables would cool and I would curse myself for not bringing a jacket.

If I were a regular human.

After my odd experience at the interview, my fire was unlikely to remain dormant. Magic hummed away within my spirit, acknowledging an essence of wind and water mingling around the middle-aged couple seated just inside the archway. Apparently I would be sensing my people everywhere I went now, whether I liked it or not.

That concept should have comforted me, but it set my nerves on edge.

A feminine voice called out to me from the corner by the street, and I began to grin despite my unease. Standing beside a two-person table tucked into the shrubbery, a young woman with short dark hair waved at me, her enthusiasm sending a gust of wind through her curls. Bianca had secured what used to be our table back when we lived across the street from each other. During our senior year of high school, we spent many Friday nights in that very spot, speculating on our lives, our classmates, and our futures.

We had spoken on the phone nearly every day since I left home, but tonight, we would immerse ourselves in nostalgia.

My own excitement bloomed when I drew closer to her, and finally I let go of propriety and sprinted the final steps to our table. “Gabi! It’s been far too long!” Bianca exclaimed, folding me in an embrace.

She claimed the element of whirlwind, and I sensed it winding around my fire in the intangible realm, welcoming the prodigal daughter home. The scent of lavender tickled my nose as I laid my chin upon her shoulder, the roughness of her jean jacket awakening much better memories than the ones that dogged me during my interview. This was my best friend, our favorite restaurant. This was home.

“Smells like your lavender enjoys living on your balcony,” I said when we pulled back to hold each other at arm’s length.

Bianca laughed and let go of me, sweeping several curls away from her face in a casual gesture. “You know I couldn’t stand living at St. Johann without it.” She glanced to her right, where the towering apartment building stood across the street from the beer garden. She and her husband had lived on the tenth floor there, ever since they got married. Right before I left home.

We both sat down, and I hung my purse over the back of my chair while she took up the menu. “Any new entrées or is it the same old, same old?”

Bianca shrugged. “They offer a couple Italian dishes now, probably trying to compete with Isola Verde. Not worth it.”

“In that case, I’ll get the usual.” I flipped my menu over to read the list of drinks, my free hand tracing the wooden grain of the table. It looked like the exact same table from nine years ago, but the attached umbrella advertised Kitzmann Bier. That was new.

A waiter appeared before I decided which beer I wanted, so I simply ordered the same as Bianca—a tall glass of Kellerbier. She rattled off a story about one of her piano students while we waited for our drinks, and I sat back to observe those who occupied the tables around us. The Teuton couple near the archway had nearly finished their meal, their mannerisms reflecting a devoted relationship. A group of high school girls huddled around a larger table, murmuring and giggling. A young woman in professional attire sat alone near the doorway to the kitchen, her gaze on the flip phone in her lap. Likely waiting for her dinner date.

Though Zum Weißen Hirsch was one of a handful of restaurants in Alterlangen—the older district of the city on the western bank of the Regnitz—I did not recognize any of the other people in the beer garden. Yet.

Bianca ordered Sauerbraten with red cabbage while I chose the dish of beef Roulade with a bread dumpling and cucumber salad. After the waiter departed, I took a sip of beer and sighed, satisfaction carrying away my lingering tension. It was truly wonderful to be in a familiar place, sitting across from my best friend, a whiff of Teutonic magic drifting along the breeze. Maybe I ought to give my people another chance. Maybe those hurtful blood prejudices died off outside of high school. Maybe the community at large could accept me for who I was.

“How long can you stay tonight?”

Bianca’s question pulled me from my reverie, and I turned my attention back to her. I noticed a few new lines on her face in the evening light, and a strange darkness seemed to haunt her blue-green eyes. Though we had kept up with each other’s lives in my absence, my instincts told me that she carried hidden burdens now. Likely the type that would be awkward to discuss over the phone.

“It doesn’t matter, really. My only plans for tonight involve you. I can walk home once we’re done here. It’s not that far.” I took another sip, savoring the beer’s sweet, malty flavor. I caught a hint of green apple as I swallowed.

“You’re trying to put off talking to your mother.”

I winced. “You got me.” Bianca tended to sense my deepest doubts before I knew them myself. I rubbed at my chin with my index finger, restless.

“Well, you can’t avoid her indefinitely, not if you’re going to live in your parents’ house,” Bianca pointed out. “My mother says she’s toned down a bit in the past few years. Dennis is the one you need to watch out for. Pretty sure he still hasn’t forgiven you for running off to Freiburg instead of attending college here.”

“Are you going to spend our entire dinner scolding me? Some reunion.” I rolled my eyes at my friend, my earlier contentment having soured.

“Sorry. What I should be doing is asking about your interview. Do you think you’re going to get the job?” Bianca beamed at me, her fingers unrolling the napkin from around her bundle of silverware.

Hesitating, I took another sip of beer. I had not yet thought that far ahead. Lukas had said I would hear back in two weeks. Whether I was to be offered a job or not, I hoped the HR manager would call rather than him. I doubted I could maintain my professional stoicism if I heard his voice over the phone.

I glanced from the restaurant’s side wall to Bianca’s face, her interest clear in her eyes. She remained active in the local Teuton community, helping out with the festivals and aiding our city’s elderly matriarch, Lady Erlanga. If Lukas and his buddies had renounced their blood prejudices during the past nine years, Bianca would know. So I drew a deep breath and released some of the tumbled emotions seething within me.

“They’re still interviewing people, but I should know whether I get the job or not in a couple weeks. I think I did okay. Nobody asked me any questions I couldn’t answer. The problem is that Lukas Felder was one of the people who interviewed me. Why the hell is he working in a no-name place like that instead of with his mother?”

My left hand tightened into a fist where it lay upon my lap. I drummed the fingers of my right hand against the table, my gaze shifting toward downtown. Lukas’ mother held a senior management position at the largest industry in the city. It made no sense that he had not followed in her wake.

“Lukas Felder? He was one of the Toilet Brigade, wasn’t he?”

I heaved a sigh and frowned. “Yep.” The two of us had privately named his cadre of bullies after the portable toilets that lined our high school’s soccer field.

“Lukas Felder,” Bianca repeated, tapping one finger against her lower lip. “Which one was he? I can never keep them straight.”

“Because they never bullied you,” I supplied, brushing a fly away from my drink. Bianca’s Teuton blood was strong—ninety-two percent, according to the measurement ritual priests conducted on infants. None of our people would ever doubt her magical lineage or her aptitude with her whirlwind.

Her head tilted in sympathy, Bianca echoed my sigh, then gasped. “Wait! He’s the one in the rowing club, isn’t he? The smoking hot one!”

I swore. “So what, he joined the local rowing club after high school? Figures. I knew that’s why his body looked ripped.”

“You going to try your luck with a ripped bully?” Bianca grinned, her eyes shining with fun. Wind began to flap at the edges of the umbrella above us.

“Careful.” I kicked her foot beneath the table and pointed overhead. “You don’t want to ruin everybody’s dinner just because I had to play businesswoman in front of a jerk this afternoon.”

“Sorry. I’ll bet it’d be pretty fun to get something going with him, though. I think he still lives in that stone house along the canal.” The air around us stilled.

“Sure, it’d be ‘fun’ if he wasn’t a prejudiced asshole.”

Bianca bowed her head in acknowledgement. “All that s**t they used to say doesn’t still bother you, does it? You’re just as much of a Teuton as I am. I can sense the heat of your fire from here.”

“Thanks.” I offered her a wavering smile, then took another drink. “I don’t know what to think. Actually, I’m kind of surprised my fire’s being so active today. I’ve been living like an outsider for almost a decade, and I met only one Teuton in all my years in Freiburg. Dirty old man tried to come onto me.” I sneered and set my glass back in its place. The waiter was coming our way with our dinners.

We fell silent until the waiter left, and I turned my attention to the Roulade on my plate. Thick and steaming, it smelled heavenly. I took up my knife and fork to cut it, while Bianca poked at her helping of red cabbage. “What if your fire is trying to send you a message? Bind with the misty jock and breed magical children. You could do worse, you know.”

I chewed on my Roulade without speaking for a moment, glancing at the tables around us. Most were occupied now, and the middle-aged Teuton couple had gone. While I had not returned to my hometown in search of a Teuton mate, Bianca had a fair point. Our people’s numbers had dwindled for years now, and if any of us chose to have children with an outsider, those children would be unable to invoke magic. The fantastical nature of Teuton blood kept us isolated even from our fellow Germans. One of many reasons I left home in the first place.

But my experience with my sole ex-boyfriend rendered me hesitant to put myself out there again, even with one of my own people. His narcissistic nature had escalated to assault, which was the primary reason I sat here at Zum Weißen Hirsch with my childhood best friend. Also why I had yet to get any more bites at my résumé. Just three weeks ago, I was content at my former job, never imagining I would flee my ex for the last time at the cusp of autumn.

Bianca mumbled a few observations about Lukas while we ate. Apparently, he was not yet married. His mother spent most of her free time at her penthouse suite in the city center, leaving her son to occupy the stone house on the banks of the Main-Donau-Kanal. I nodded along, not wholly listening, until Bianca said in a matter-of-fact tone, “His sister’s a bitch.”

Looking up from my plate, I saw pain on my friend’s face as she sawed at her roast beef. “What has she done to you?” We both had more of a history with Nicole than either of us liked. Two years younger than Lukas, she had been on the cheerleading squad along with Bianca. And she mocked my bloodline just like her brother did.

Bianca scrunched her nose, excess moisture glistening in her eyes. “She married that big oaf from the Toilet Brigade a couple years ago. Jan. They’ve got two kids already, both with blood above ninety percent.” She sniffed, the hand that held her fork quivering a little. “Every time I get called on to play piano for the chamber orchestra, she drops hints about . . . you know.”

Anger coiled in my chest, and my fire reacted by shading my vision in red. “If she keeps that up, I’ll punch her in the jaw. Or break a couple fingers so she can’t play her beloved violin.”

A small smile appeared on my best friend’s face. “Thanks, Gabi. It’s just so hard sometimes. Oliver and I have been trying to get pregnant for at least seven years. Maybe eight. And nothing.”

I reached across the table to take her left hand in my right, giving it a gentle squeeze. Bianca shook her head and blinked at the tears collecting in her eyes. “The doctors say there’s nothing wrong with my body, that I’m fertile. They don’t know why we can’t conceive. I even went to see the forest witch in the Tyrol last summer, the one who’s friends with Lady Erlanga. She gave me some herbal remedies to try. Still nothing.”

I stroked her hand and my fire reached out to caress her element, which had begun to incite another breeze. “Is Oliver angry at you because of it?”

“No. He still loves me, thank God. We’ve nearly saved enough money to get out of St. Johann and buy a house, but it’s going to be pointless to get one with a bunch of bedrooms if my body won’t work right. I feel like I’m failing him.”

“You’re not a failure, and he knows it,” I assured her, squeezing her hand one final time before letting go. “Not everybody has to have kids, no matter what our people think. If Nicole gives you any grief about it again, tell me right away. Bet she wouldn’t be too pleased if her family—her brother included—lost access to the only silver oak in Erlangen.”

Bianca choked out a laugh. “You think the fairy would go for that?”

I would have responded with an immediate yes a few hours earlier; but after what happened at the interview, I was not so sure. “I could convince it,” I said, not meeting my friend’s gaze. I took a bite of cucumber salad and crossed my legs. No matter how I felt about the Eihalbe’s intrusion at my interview, I needed to patch things up with it tonight. Maybe before I dared to face my mother.

My fire cooled alongside my anger, and we ate in silence for a few minutes, alone with our thoughts. The group of girls at the larger table burst into gales of laughter, and my fiery spirit sensed the presence of one more Teuton in the beer garden. Looking over my right shoulder, I picked out an old man seated at the table that the middle-aged couple had occupied earlier. He had a mug of dark beer in his right hand, his element shrouding him in an imperceptible void. Darkness.

Bianca finished with her meal while I worked on the last of my dumpling. Her fork clattered onto her plate as she voiced a statement that prompted me to freeze mid-bite. “There’s been some crazy rumors going around for the past week or so, ever since your mother started spreading the word far and wide about your return. Now everybody thinks you’re destined to be the next Lady Erlanga.”

I ogled my friend as a piece of dumpling nearly lodged in my throat. “What?” A slight cough followed, and I reached for my beer.

Bianca’s curls bounced as she nodded, pity shading her face. “You know the last five Ladies of this city were chosen right after they came home from the lands of outsiders. The priests say Erlanga’s soul seeks a charitable avatar with an open mind, traits that quests tend to refine.”

A wicked grin had consumed Bianca’s sympathetic expression. All at once, she burst into giggles, while I sat statue-like with a mostly empty beer glass in my hand, horror twisting my stomach into knots. “You’ve got to be making that up,” I said, seizing denial’s lifeline. “I studied with Lady Erlanga just the same as you. I don’t remember her saying she came home from a ‘quest’ right before she became Leitalra. I wasn’t on a quest. I was working, earning a business degree!”

Bianca’s torso shook with laughter, and she drained her beer. “Tell the soul of Erlanga that when she chooses you. Maybe she’ll let you off.” She winked.

I shuddered, then called the waiter to our table and asked him to refill our glasses. He cleaned up our empty plates and departed, leaving me grappling with a sense of helplessness. Maybe I had come back to Erlangen on a whim, a mad attempt to escape a controlling boyfriend and a city stained by memories of him. A clean slate, a new start, a chance to ease myself back into the Teuton community.

And now they expected me to become their fated matriarch, consort of the Keyholder. An image of the lean, aged priest bent over a staff wreathed in sparking energy arose in my mind. My fire retreated into my spirit at the memory. I don’t want to be that man’s consort or anyone else’s. If I’m going to attempt a new relationship, it’ll be with a man I choose myself, not some predestined—

“Lady Erlanga isn’t sick or anything, is she?” My own question cut off my mental speculations, my eyes narrowing at Bianca’s face. She raised one eyebrow as the waiter reappeared, setting two fresh glasses of Kellerbier on the table before us. We both thanked him, and I tugged my glass toward me, gripping it with both hands as I leveled Bianca with a glare. “She’s not going to just drop dead now that I’m home, is she? Is that what fate demands?”

I had lowered my voice considerably, and Bianca did the same when she answered. “Physically, Lady Erlanga is fine, but a cloud of sorrow has been hanging over her ever since her husband passed last Christmas. I think she longs to follow him, to dedicate her legacy to someone else.”

A minuscule hint of relief loosened my muscles; at least I would not have to grant my body to a withered old priest of energy. The current Lady had loved him dearly, but my youthful hormones steered me away from a partner sixty or more years my senior. And that meant . . . .

“So who’s the new Keyholder?”

Bianca met my gaze, her eyes bright with possibility. “His name’s Henning Glossner. I’ve met him a few times. He seems really nice. Studies plumbing in trade school, which is a bit odd for someone with blue fire, but who am I to judge?”

Dread worked its way to the forefront of my mind. I took a sip of beer and steeled myself to learn the truth. “He’s still in trade school, huh? How old is he?”

My friend sighed and looked at the amber contents of her glass. “Nineteen. Some people have already started calling you a cougar, among other things.”

Grimacing, I pushed my chair a short distance back from the table, my fingers sliding away from my glass. “Among other things?”

Bianca hesitated one moment longer before admitting, “There’s been talk that you shouldn’t be qualified to become Leitalra. That you’re not worthy because your father couldn’t wield his element yet when you were born. That as long as there’s been a Keyholder and Lady of Erlangen, both claimed Teuton blood of at least ninety percent.”

My wishes to find belonging in this wretched place dissolved at my feet. “I knew I shouldn’t have come back here. Guess I’d better pack up my stuff and head for someplace where nobody knows about Teutonic magic. Maybe Berlin.” Rising to my feet, I dug through my purse in search of my wallet.

“Gabi!” Bianca’s hushed cry made me pause with my wallet halfway out of my purse. She stared toward the beer garden’s entrance with a panicked look.

Just as Lukas Felder passed under the archway, a leashed pug waddling at his feet.

Chapter Three: