The Conflict

It was a wet day. It had been a wet week. It wasn’t raining now, but ominous clouds overhead maintained constant threat, and everything around Aria remained soaked from the last downpour. Her arms were laden with plastic grocery bags as she kicked at a water puddle in her path. Droplets danced through the air in brief life, but they provided her no joy.

Thunder rumbled overhead. Aria reaffirmed her hold on the bags and sped up.

It was a nice area, if one liked big privacy walls and houses worth more than most people would ever make in a lifetime. Well-maintained blacktop roads, neatly trimmed hedgerows; any house under two storeys was an anomaly and a sign that the owner only barely qualified to live amongst such class.

The house Aria approached was not single storey. Nor was it two. Though not the biggest house in the community, it certainly reeked of ostentatious self-importance, with its column-bordered front door and solid red brick exterior and two-story windows. Aria kicked open the gate, the force of the blow leaving yet another highly notable scratch on the paint, and ignored the flagstones to march across the untrimmed grass. It took some effort to open the front door, but at least she hadn’t had to use a key. In a neighborhood like this, who needed to lock a door? She kicked it closed just as the first raindrops began to fall.

Her ears were graced with a very faint hint of sound from upstairs. Music, some orchestral piece. It kept stopping and replaying at a specific point only to end entirely at around the time Aria finished putting the bags on the kitchen table. She reached in to grab a package of Oreos, then headed for the living room to collapse on the couch, spike-bottomed boots crossed on the armrest. Popping the first cookie in her mouth, she stared listlessly at the high, wooden ceiling as the rain outside began to come down hard.

Faint footsteps sounded on the stairs.

“Ugh, would you take your boots off before you lay down?” Adagio, dressed in a loose-fitting t-shirt and silk pajama pants, passed the back of the couch, not even gracing Aria with a glance. “In case you’ve forgotten, we can’t afford a maid anymore. You dirty the upholstery, you clean the upholstery.”

“Whatever.” A second Oreo met its doom with a crunch.

The ginger-haired fussbucket’s parting shot was a disgusted scoff. Another, louder one echoed from beyond the door to the kitchen. “You didn’t even bother to put the groceries away.”

Aria took her time with the next Oreo, pulling the two pieces apart and eating the one with the most icing first. Raindrops streaked across the windows.

“We were alive before freezers were invented. You might recall how amazed we all were that such a thing could exist in a world without magic. Why would you leave the cold items out like this?”

She licked the last bits of icing off the opposite wafer, then set it on her tongue. With it pressed to the top of her mouth, she let her saliva slowly do its work, the flavors gradually coating her taste buds. Hands on her stomach, she stared at the ceiling with dull, bored eyes.

The sound of the refrigerator closing. Soft footsteps. Adagio appeared in the door. Hands set to hips, she glowered at the lump on the couch. “Where’s the receipt?”

Aria shrugged and didn’t meet Adagio’s gaze. She reached for another Oreo, but Adagio stole the package away. The smaller woman made no attempt to take it back. Thunder rumbled as the rain pattered quietly against the windows.

Adagio’s lips pursed. “You shoplifted again, didn’t you?”

Another shrug.

“For fuck’s sake, Ria!” The package slammed onto the end table, Adagio's eyes bright like daggers.

Aria rolled her eyes and finally sat up, though she still slouched. Arms crossed, eyes on the window, she at last offered her opinion. “Nobody cares about shoplifting anymore. People get away with it all the time.”

“That’s not the point!” Adagio gestured with both hands at her sibling-in-all-but-blood. “I’m sick of your attitude. We have to live normal lives, and that means paying normal bills that right now we’re barely affording.”

That earned her a raised eyebrow. “Remind me which one of us funded Morrissey’s political career.”

The grinding between Adagio’s molars might have been audible were it not for the weather. “I don’t have a gambling problem anymore, Ria. Every major loss we’ve had in the last 140 years was either bad luck—”

“I think there was more to the Great Depression than just ‘luck’.”

“Aria.” The elder between them paused whatever rant was about to come out of her mouth. Instead she took a few seconds to rub at her temples and take some calming breaths. “What is with you? I’m working six days a week at the bank and trying come up with fresh music despite the loss of my voice. Sonata’s got it the worst – she was born with a singing voice, unlike us – but she’s still churning out forty hours at the bar. All you do is mope and commit petty crimes.”

The younger between them shrugged yet again, the motion making Adagio’s eyebrow twitch. “I’ve been committing petty crimes for a thousand years.”

“Yes, when we had our pendants and could get away with that kind of crap.” There came a sudden quiet, as if the words had a physical impact on the both of them. Adagio reached up as if to touch something on her neck. Pain and loss flashed across her features. It was only for only a moment, a moment in which Aria turned her face away with a hunched back. Then the fiery steel returned. “But we don’t anymore. We can’t sing at the cops to get them to let us go, and we can’t afford bail money. The lives we used to have? They’re over. It’s time we all grew up, and that includes you.”

Turning to glower at her ‘sister’, Aria dryly asked, “Didn’t I just remind you that I’m over a thousand years old?” They both ignored the brief flash of a headlight and the roar of a motor from the driveway.

“Then maybe you should act like it for a change, hmm?” Adagio flipped her massive head of hair with a look of utter disdain. “Do you not care? Do you want us to lose the house?” The engine outside died.

“We paid off the house in ‘52.”

“And they can still take it if we stop paying our other bills! We are just one disaster away from losing everything. Do you understand that? Aren’t you worried?”

Aria’s lips pursed. She held Adagio’s glare for several long seconds, hand clenched into a tight fist. Furrows formed along her brow as a smoldering mulberry fire lit behind her eyes.

Then the front door slammed open, and a wail doused the growing blaze. “I-it’s gone! It’s gone!”

Adagio’s face twisted into a complex blend of annoyance at a fight interrupted and fear of a fresh disaster. Aria’s remained firmly in the realm of thoughtful frustration. It was a second before the elder of the two allowed concern to become her priority, and so did Adagio turn and hurry for the front door. Aria allowed herself a moment to press a hand tightly over her heart.

Then she followed, through the kitchen and into the greeting room. A thoroughly soaked Sonata was on her knees, hands wrapped around her middle and tears streaking her already wet cheeks. Her riding jacket was a mess of mud and grass. What held Aria’s gaze was her little sister’s throat, blue skin all the more so from a vicious bruise.

Adagio was on her knees and grasping the girl’s shoulders. “Sonata, what happened? Come on, girl, talk to me.”

“My pendant,” the youngest of the three cried, pressing her forehead to her elder’s shoulder. “She stole my stone!”

Aria and Adagio both tensed. The latter reached for her own throat, as if to protect something. The former’s hand moved to touch her jacket, but stopped herself. Aria’s lips set in a thin line, fists clenched tight.

For a long second, Adagio appeared in a state of shock, eyes growing wet and lips hanging open. Then she wrapped her arms around her sobbing sibling. “It’s okay, Nata. It’s alright.”

Aria’s voice was harsh. “Did you fight back?” She ignored Adagio’s glare.

“I t-tried.” Sonata shook her head, one hand going to rub her stomach again. “She was t-too strong. My stone. Home. My v-voice. I’ll never—”

With a gentle shush, Adagio rocked her gently. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’ll weather this. Let’s get you a hot bath and I’ll take a look at those bruises, hmm?”

“B-but my stone—”

“What about the stone?” Aria crossed her arms with a scoff. “They’re useless to us now.”

Adagio’s eyes sparked. “Ria—!”

“What? They are.” Flipping a pigtail over her shoulder, Aria glowered at her companions. “None of us want to say it, but they’re broken. Shattered. Caput. So who cares if some bitch stole one? She stole trash.”

Still choking down tears, Sonata tried to burrow deeper within Adagio’s protective embrace. Adagio moved as though to rise, only to rethink it and instead keep her arms wrapped around Sonata. Despite the comforting posture, her eyes spoke of violence. “How can you be so heartless? Those stones helped us survive for a thousand years. Sonata crafted them with her own voice!”

“Then she should have fought harder for hers.”

Sonata shuddered. This time Adagio did rise, though she held the trembling former siren against her side all the same. Cradling the back of Sonata’s head with one hand, she glared down at Aria, shortest of them, with all the imperious fury of a goddess. “If that’s how little you care, then you can get out.”

Aria blinked. And again. “Excuse me?”

“I said: get out.” Adagio removed her hand from around Sonata’s waist to thrust a well-manicured fingernail at the door. “If you don’t care about anything, then we don’t need you around. You can come back when you’ve learned to respect our situation, and us.”

The two stared at one another, a repeat of their earlier bout. One firm, fierce and commanding, the other wide-eyed and intensely still beyond her heavy, hot breaths. Aria broke eye contact first, her fiery gaze shifting in equally fiery thought. Hands balled into fists yet again. Finally, she turned and stomped for the door, slamming it behind her so hard that all three floors shook.

The rain was still coming down. Aria was soaked within seconds. She stood in the yard, ignoring the water dripping down her chin. Her scowl promised imminent violence, but there was nothing nearby on which she might target her fury. Turning to her right, she eyed the closed garage door. Then the motorcycle – her motorcycle – and the helmet discarded in the grass a few feet away. She marched closer; the keys were still in the ignition.

In an act of pure physicality, she lifted the bike and slammed it back down, now facing the road. It took only a moment to adjust the helmet to her size and bundle her pigtails within. The engine roared to life and, with a squeal of wet tires, she disappeared in the thick haze of an autumn downpour.

The restaurant and bar’s name was Arpeggio’s. It was seventy-six years old, opened by a man who used to call Aria ‘Little Miss Grinch’. That man had been dead forty years – liver cancer, of course. There were new owners now, unrelated to the old, who wouldn’t recognize that the young woman who worked the bar five days a week had been there on opening night too, along with her two ‘siblings’.

Aria’s bike was parked in the alley. The downpour had by now become a quiet drizzle, heavier drops tap-tap-tapping from the gutter pipe to the concrete depression below. The former siren herself stood beside the back door, hands in her pockets and eyes on things no person alive today could recall. Her lips set in a pout as the back of her boot beat a quiet rhythm against the brown, aged brick.

The turn of a latch. The door opened, blocking her from view of whoever was coming out. A slight turn of the head allowed her to watch as large trash cans on rollers rumbled onto the rough concrete. The door closed while a pudgy teen got to work dumping the contents into the steel trash container. Sickly green skin, unruly dark orange hair. He had on an ugly brown apron, some clear plastic gloves, and safety glasses. She didn’t blame him for any of the precautions: the tubs reeked of old cooking grease and the other common byproducts of restaurant fare.

She caught him by the shoulder, spun him around. Snips had all of a second to register his assailant before she had him pressed against the wall, shoes dangling a few inches off the concrete.

He raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa, whoa! Don't hurt me!” Then he recognized the face a few inches from his own and fear became bewilderment. “Wait, ain’t you Sona’s sister?”

Aria’s lips curled up at the nickname, showing her teeth. Her words had the ferocity of a leopard. “Listen up, kid. Sonata talks. She knows you’ve been checking her ass while she works the bar.”

Black pupils shrank. He squirmed, but made no attempt to free himself. “I-I was just l-looking, there’s no harm in that!” Wide eyes went to the door, but it was closed.

“You also start your shift at around the same time she leaves, right?” When he only whimpered, she let go of his shirt with one hand to grab one of the still-full trash cans and roll it closer. The loss of a hand for support did nothing to lower his elevation.

His eyes followed the motion. Even in the faint hiss of the rain, his gulp was audible. “Y-yeah, I usually do. What about it?”

She peered into his paling face. “Did you know she got mugged today?”

Blinking rainwater from his eyes, he wiped them with his arm. When the arm fell, he appeared pained. “Oh, yeah. I saw it. I was gonna call the cops, but she left before I could finish dialing 9-1-1.”

Aria’s eyes blazed. Her grip on his shirt tightened. “Who did it?”

The fear came back ten-fold. “No way! I know that woman, she’s insane! She’d kill me, and I don’t mean the you-fem-istic—” One hand went to his groin, and both arms lifted. He yelped, grasping at the lower of her wrists as she pulled him from the wall and began tipping him head-first towards the trash can. “No, wait, don’t!”

She held him over the sickening morass of leftovers, his hips on her shoulder. His legs kicked wildly. The leopard gained in viciousness. “Tell me who ‘she’ is, shitstain, and I might consider not dunking your sorry, pimple-crusted face.”

“Okay, okay! Her name’s Lightning Dust!” He grasped at the sides of the trash can, trying to push it away, but it was pinned between the container and the wall. Paleness crept across his features as the foul stench struck his nostrils and made his eyes water. “Her father’s some retired big-time racer! She’s a CHS student but she never shows her face at the school!”

Aria shook him, threatening by demonstration. Her question snapped like a whip. “Where can I find her?”

“Uh, uh, um—” Snips visibly fought back the urge to vomit. He pinched his nose, his next words coming out nasally. “She lives on… Oh, crap, I don’t—” Another shake. “I’m thinking, I’m thinking! Oh, God it stinks. It’s— It’s— First Trotter’s Street! I-I think it’s the third house on the left. Maybe, I remember seeing her go inside there a few times, I think she had the key. Two-storey place, screen door, ugly yellow paint job!”

A second later found him back on his feet. Brushing him off, Aria offered a polite, “Thank you for your cooperation. If I find out you lied—” Whipcord muscles bulged as her fist flew, stopping with pinpoint accuracy less than an inch from his nose. Or rather, where his nose would have been if he hadn’t collapsed into a sitting position against the opposite wall of the alley.

“I told you what I know, I swear!”

“Good, then you’ve got nothing to worry about.” She turned for her bike, paused, turned back. The trash container was open, a long iron chain with a padlock dangling from one of the lids. She grabbed the padlock, closed it on the last link of chain, then pulled the chain from the lid's handle. Leaving the teenager trembling in the wet concrete, she returned to her motorcycle and opened the cargo box behind the seat. The sight of a familiar blue purse gave her pause, but only for so long. The chain rattled next to it in the box and the lid slammed closed. She only waited so long as was required to put the street in her phone’s GPS and slip on some earbuds before pulling her helmet on.

For the second time, the bike roared into the mist and rain.

It wasn’t that the yellow was ugly, it was that it was ancient, peeling off the walls to reveal the equally ancient siding underneath. Only half of the gutter was attached, one end dangling and dripping onto some untrimmed azaleas that were the only bright part of an otherwise unkempt, uncared-for lawn. The upper floor was about half the size of the lower and looked like it might collapse into the bottom at any moment. All in all, the whole building gave the impression of a sulking, fat man on the edge of barfing.

This wasn’t a cheap neighborhood. All the houses around this one were clean, squat, and friendly.

Aria didn’t move straight for the ripped screen door. Instead she spent some time wrapping the chain around her left arm. The padlock dangled a couple inches from her wrist, the last length of chain clenched tight in her palm. Only then did she approach, not bothering to avoid the puddles in the cracked sidewalk. She kept the chain behind her back.

The rain had stopped, but the sky remained ominously gray. Her knock on the doorframe was loud in the quiet of the peaceful neighborhood. Within seconds, weighty footsteps approached. Aria’s hand clenched around the chain, padlock swaying as she adjusted her stance slightly.

The door, heavily scratched at around kicking level, opened with a squeal of hinges. There stood a man in a beat up, fur-lined bomber jacket that might have been green once. The man’s hair might have been green once too, but at this point was mostly gray. The shape of his body suggested he had been a powerful individual in his prime, but middle age had clearly caught up with him if his paunch was anything to go by.

Tiny pupils in amber eyes stared through the ripped screen door, past Aria into nothing. His expression was bland. Blank, as if there was nobody home. The eyes eventually found Aria, and the air left her lungs. Fingers fell limp, allowing the chain to dangle from her arm and sway in the faint post-rain breeze.

His voice was as dull as his expression. “Can I help you, miss?”

“Uh…” In the breath of a moment, the former siren blinked at him. The phone in her back pocket vibrated. With a sharp shake of her head, she reasserted her firm gaze and reclaimed the padlock in her palm. “I’m looking for Lightning Dust. I was told she might live here?” The phone went quiet.

The man didn’t so much as blink. “My stepdaughter is not here at the moment.”

“Right.” Another breath of careful consideration. “Where did she go?”

“She went to run an errand, then to meet her—” Still, there was no expression. The man merely stared for a few seconds, as though he’d forgotten he’d been speaking at all. Then, just as suddenly as the stop, “—loan officer.”

Aria’s fingers lost some of their grip again. “Loan officer?”

“Yes,” he monotoned. “Lightning Dust owes a substantial loan. Payment is due very soon.”

She eyed the man. Then the house. The neighborhood. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Her phone began to buzz again. Refocusing on the man, she asked, “Did she have a stone? A ruby?”

Without hesitation, “Yes.”

Air caught in her throat. Only until the phone went silent again. “A whole ruby?” She used her thumb and middle finger to imitate holding something between them. “About this big?”

Again, no hesitation. “Yes.”

Aria swayed on her feet. She had to take a step left, a puddle of water splashing loudly at her sudden presence. The hand not behind her back went to touch the inner pocket of her sleeveless jacket. She stood there for several long seconds, long enough for her phone to buzz and stop again. More thunder, a slow growl from the heavens.

The man watched all of this in utter silence, pupils tiny and fingers twitching at his sides.

At last, Aria found her center. She moved as if to step forward, paused, remained where she was. Her knuckles were white around the padlock.

“Is the ruby here?”

The tiniest shake of his head. “No, ma’am. Lightning brought it with her.”

A grunt channeled almost all her frustration in a single curt burst, accompanied by the chain-wrapped arm jerking in a barely stymied but very aggressive motion. Her phone buzzed. Teeth grit – inhale, exhale – “Where is she meeting this loan officer?”

Where are you? You need to be careful. Someone broke into the house while Sonata and I were out. They took my stone. I don’t know where you keep yours. They might have taken it too, you need to come home and check.

*beep*

Aria, this is important. I know you don’t give a crap about the stones anymore, but you matter to us. Whoever took the stones, they might know there are three. They could be coming after you now. Call us, and watch your back.

*beep*

By the Great Song, Aria, pick up the damn phone! I don’t know where you are because you refused to get that fucking tracker app. What if you wrecked the bike and are in a ditch somewhere? Stop being such a stubborn child and call me back!

*beep*

H-hey, Ria. Um, Adagio’s really mad, but she’s just scared, you know? She’s talking to the cops right now. The place is a mess. I don’t know why that woman wants our stones, but… but they’re just useless rocks now, r-right? You don’t care about them, so… So neither should we. *sniff* So don’t worry about it, okay? We’ll be fine. Just… come home. I’m sure Adagio will be happy to see you again.

*beep*

Rain was belting down again. The visor was streaked with water. The engine roared as she passed a slower truck, fingers clenched tight on the handlebars. Teeth grit, lungs replaced by bellows, heart thump-thump-thumping in her ribs. It was the rough road and the crack of thunder that was responsible for her shaking. Nothing more, nothing less. She pressed on the gas, turned the corner—

Headlights.

The world swerved, tires squealed. Water splashed across bike and rider as a rearview mirror flashed past her helmet. Asphalt became sidewalk became grass, but somehow the bike didn’t tumble. A dirt trench indicated the wobbly path as the bike came to a sudden, jerky stop next to a blatantly ignored speed limit sign.

Aria didn’t move. She was too busy breathing. In the bike’s left-side mirror, she watched the Buick pick up speed and disappear around a corner.

Rain pattered atop her helmet. Shoulders trembled and heaved.

Ripping the helmet off, she threw it into the grass at her feet. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she ran her hands through her hair. A few stumbling steps, and then she was sitting with her back to the sign’s pole, elbows on knees and head in hands. Her breath hitched, choked, fought against the sobs as the rain drizzled down her arms. Eventually, vibrating hands reached into an inner jacket pocket.

She opened her fingers to find a jagged mess of ruby shards in her wet palms. She stared at them through burning mulberry eyes. Hands pressed shards to heart as she fought back another sob.

Her phone buzzed. She didn’t answer.

Overhead, the clouds started turning black. Something within flashed.

The sun couldn’t be seen through the overcast rainclouds, but the darkening sky indicated that the day was coming to a close. The motorcycle purred as it prowled the commercial district, which was mostly empty at this time of the weekday. The cinema was in sight, and she made sure to peer down every alley and side street. Her visor was raised so that streaks of water wouldn’t obscure her vision.

A flash of red caught Aria’s eye and sent her heart to racing. She jumped off the bike. Leaving the keys in the ignition, she barely remembered to move it onto the sidewalk before breaking into a run. Water splashed beneath her boots. The red light was fading. She moved faster. Faster. Faster.

Her shoulder slammed into the alley wall, the side of her helmet barely impacting the plaster. There: in the alley were two women. One was about Aria’s height, green-skinned with swept back blonde hair. The other was taller, bulkier, and tanned. The bigger woman, dressed in black jeans and a tank top, stood back-straight with arms at her sides, staring at nothing.

The blonde was handing her something red.

“Hey!” Lightning Dust started at Aria's shout, spinning around to face the new arrival. The white-haired stranger didn’t so much as twitch. “Give that back right now!”

Lightning Dust grimaced at the approaching former siren. “Who the hell are you?”

Aria cracked her gloved knuckles, eyes promising pain. “You kicked my sister’s ass. Now it’s your turn. But if you give me back the ruby, I might consider going easy on you.”

Still the white-haired stranger remained still.

“Is that so?” Lightning’s grin was predatory. Stepping forward, she raised her hand. “We’ll just see about that.”

Aria froze. Wide, disbelieving eyes took in a perfect, wholly intact red gem. It was embedded in Lightning’s palm, the skin around it puckered and pulsing. So busy was she taking in this sight that she didn’t notice how brightly the gem shined until that light washed over her. Crying out in frustration, she raised her arms to block whatever was coming.

The red glow faded. Aside from the constant pattering of the light rain, all was silent. Aria tentatively lowered her arms. Her eyes were wide… and confused.

But not as confused as Lightning appeared. She shook the hand with the ruby, looked at it as if she didn’t know what it was. “What the hell? Why didn’t it work this time?”

The uncertainty faded from Aria in an instant. Hands balled into fists. Her body vibrated, but not from anger or any other emotion. This was the shivering of someone with more energy than she knew what to do with. She began her approach, arm starting to pull back.

Lightning noticed, stepped away with a grimace. “Fine,” she growled. “We’ll do this the hard way. Gilda, take her out!”

The bulky woman reacted in an instant, spinning around to face Aria in a low, aggressive pose. Only now did she notice a pair of eyes with tiny pupils and a long, absent stare. A fist, supported by a muscular arm, smashed into the face of her helmet with enough force to send her onto her back. The helmet smacked the ground, and then Aria was getting up. Already, ‘Gilda’ was on her, face hideously blank as she attempted to kick Aria while she was down.

By the time Aria came out of her roll, Lightning was past her. She saw the woman slip by, but was too busy blocked another punch to do anything about it. Her bones ached from the impact. She blocked another, another, a fourth, stepped into the fifth. Her helmeted forehead cracked into her assailant’s chin, making the head snap back; she kicked one of Gilda’s legs against the other and, while the big woman was unbalanced, used a palm strike to slam her against the wall.

A familiar engine roared. Aria’s eyes shot open wide yet again as she turned to the sound. “Son of a—!” She had just enough time to see her motorcycle drive away, Lightning flipping her off with a smug grin.

Then a muscular arm was around her throat in a sleeper hold. Kicking boots rose off the ground as Aria tried slamming her elbow into her opponent’s side a few times, but the most she got for her effort was a faint, toneless grunt. She snarled and, with what little breath she could muster, snapped, “Stop it, let go!”

Which is exactly what happened. Aria stumbled forward a few steps with a gasp and spun around, fists raised. Gilda merely stood there, staring at the wall above Aria’s head with indifference. Her arms were once again limp at her sides.

Aria held her fighting posture for a second. A few more. No attack came. Gradually, she relaxed. Her pigtails broke free, dangling near her knees, as she took the helmet off. Peering, she snapped her fingers in Gilda’s face. There was no reaction. She poked the woman’s rugged collarbone. Still nothing.

After a few more seconds of looking around in puzzlement, she asked, “Why’d you stop attacking me?”

The tiny pupils looked through her. “Because you told me to.”

“Huh.” After a moment’s indecision, Aria raised her hand. “Give me the ruby.”

Without hesitation, Gilda reached into her pants pocket and produced the stone. She placed it in the waiting palm and went back to standing as still, fingers twitching at her sides.

Aria brought the ruby up to her face. Her breaths came in slow, deep gasps as she took in its shiny essence. Deep within was a faint light, pulsing and strong and whole. Reverently, she pressed the stone to her forehead, eyes closed and lips pursed. The ruby was pleasantly warm, and a smile grew on her lips. “Adagio…”

Eyes popped open. Her free hand went to her chest, felt against the hidden pocket. The air fled her lungs at the bulge. Frantically, she reached inside her jacket and pulled the object out. Another ruby, perfectly identical, perfectly whole.

A moan escaped her throat. Tears flowed freely. She kissed the second stone, held both of them close. Laughter mixed with hiccuping sobs and she fell back against the alley wall, wobbling legs barely able to hold her weight.

The siren remained that way for a long time, gems pressed tight against her skin as the rain blessed her with its masking moisture.

At last, she looked up and towards the road. The tears had finally ceased, as did the shaking. Her lips moved to no sound, but an observer might have been able to read them: ‘Sonata’.

The two rubies disappeared within the jacket’s inner pockets. Aria turned to the ever-staring, ever still Gilda. “You. Go home.” The tall woman turned and walked away, her arms swaying slightly and her eyes as vacant as ever.

Out of a back pocket came Aria’s phone. She looked up at the pouring sky, saw how dark it was, checked the time. Getting late. Swiping the lockscreen away, she hit up a familiar contact. The phone rang five times, went to voicemail. She canceled, tried again. And again. And again. She kept this up for some time, losing count of the number of attempts.

Finally, as the clouds began to shift to an orange hue, someone picked up. “Who the hell is this?”

Aria’s lips were curled in a scowl. “You have something that belongs to my sister and me. I want it back.”

A moment’s pause on the other end. “Damn, did you beat Gilda? Guess all those muscles were just for show.”

Walking to the end of the alley, Aria felt at the gems in her jacket pocket. “I got the one you stole, and I’ve got my own. You want them, you’ll have to take them.”

Another long pause. Aria stopped at the sidewalk and looked up at the roiling storm clouds. The sky grew darker.

“I’ve got my own,” Lightning confidently replied. “What do I need yours for?”

Aria’s response was as threatening as the blaze in her eyes. “As long as you’ve got my sister’s, I’m going to chase you. As long as I’ve got mine, I’m immune. I can stop you. I am going to stop you. We can do this now or we can do it later, but it’s going to happen. So what are you, Lightning Dust?” Her eyes narrowed, her voice harsh and accusing. “A fighter, or a fucking coward?”

A sharp intake of air sounded over the speakers.

“Fine. We’ll do this your way. Name the place.

“I’ll be there.”

She picked up before the first ring ended. “Aria! Where the hell are you? Sonata’s worried sick!”

The rain was pummeling down, shrouding the world in darkness.

”Aria? Aria! Answer me. Don’t tell me you fucking butt-dialed me.”

The high school seemed to loom in the night. The motorcycle was already parked, the engine still warm.

“I’m fixing things.” Aria opened the storage box. The blue purse was still there. “I’m fixing everything.”

”What? Aria, I can barely hear you. Are you out in the rain?”

The chain was heavy in her hands. She began wrapping it around her left arm.

“Tell Sonata I’m sorry for being such a bitch.”

For a time, the rain and clinking metal were the only sounds. The padlock fit neatly in her palm, weighty and strong.

”Aria, what’s going on? Please, talk to me.”

She lifted the purse out of the box, which she closed. Reaching into her pocket, she took out one of the rubies and pressed it to her forehead. After a moment, she smiled.

The ruby went into the bag. “Track Nata’s phone. I left a present for you.”

”A present? You’re starting to worry me. Ria—”

She ended the call, slipped the phone into the bag. Mulberry eyes peered through the downpour, taking in the roof of CHS. A flash of lightning might have illuminated a figure up there.

One last breath. Purse held gently under one arm, padlock gripped tight in her hand, she moved for the front doors.

The glass had already been shattered.