She sat in the back, with a cup of tea Azura had thrust into her hands as soon as she’d seen Alice’s face. Azura sat down on the desk opposite her and looked at her intently, “What is it?”

                Alice watched the tea slosh around in the tea cup and realized her hands were shaking. She was still that angry, “I pointed the listening telescope at that woman’s shop, Sara. She was talking about Altair…” she finally put the teacup down for fear that she’d send a tidal wave of earl grey over the papers on the desk.

                “Ah,” Azura folded her arms across her chest and raised one brow, “I take it she likes him?”
                Alice only nodded, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

                “And do you feel there’s a chance she may lure him away from you?”

                Alice stared down at her tea cup, considering this for a moment, “No,” she said thoughtfully, “I think he would find her ridiculous.”

                “Then what’s the problem?” There was a smile in Azura’s voice, even if she didn’t show it.

                “Well, she was talking about me too, saying how I wasn’t a challenge…”

                “But you just told me she wasn’t a challenge, that Altair would find her ridiculous. It seems you both have the same opinion of one another, only you’re the one who’s got Altair. Not her.”

                Alice couldn’t stop the smile from creeping across her face, “ You have such a way of putting everything so logically. Now I feel silly for having been so angry.” She picked up the tea again and took a long drink, it was still warm, “alright. I haven’t got anything to worry about, I get it.”

                Azura only shrugged and smiled, and luckily neither of them said anything else, because just at that moment Altair came thumping down the stairs and into the backroom. Alice gave him a careful once over, imagining what Sara saw when she looked at him. Shaggy blonde hair still wet from the shower, brilliant blue eyes and blonde lashes, and yes….the start of a beard. The collar of his dress shirt was crooked, one side sticking up, and he had his hands shoved in the pockets of his faded blue jeans. How carefully disheveled he was.

                Alice made her way over to him and straightened his collar, leaning up on her toes to kiss him. He smelled like shampoo and cologne. Altair looked startled, “What was that for?”

                Azura was giving her an amused look and Alice shrugged, “just because.”

                More footsteps on the stairs this time, but much more delicate. It was Shakra, her dark hair curled onto the back of her neck in a neat bun, her brown eyes sleepy, “morning everyone.”

                “How did you sleep?” Alice asked, “I hope you haven’t been worrying…” she trailed off, because the look on Shakra’s face made it obvious she was very worried indeed.

                “We should talk,” she said, “all of us, what we’re going to do. If you won’t let me go to her then we should at least move the shop. She knows where we are.”

                Alice folded her arms across her chest, feeling stubborn, “I’m not running, Shakra. Honestly, I’m not even going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she’s scared me.”

                “But what is she comes herself next time?” Shakra said anxiously, “you won’t be able to just throw some magic spells at her. She’s a goddess.”

                “And what’s-his-nuts was a god,” Altair said impatiently, “and we all know what happened to him.”

                “That’s different,” Shakra protested, “we had an ace up our sleeve. He was half mad and you had the jar of Pandora. Athena isn’t like Ambrose was. She’s very much all there, and she’s very powerful, and she loses her temper fast.”

                “I’ll deal with it if she does come,” Alice said firmly, “maybe we can all end up being civil about it as well.”

                Shakra smacked one hand to her forehead and growled something under her breath, but as far as Alice was concerned it was settled, “Business as usual,” she ordered them, “and if she does come in, please come get me. I’m sure we can sort this out somehow.”

                “And what if we can’t?” Shakra said.

                “Whatever happens, happens,” Alice found herself rubbing the charm bracelet between her fingers again, it was always strangely comforting, “but in the meantime, Azura suggested you teach me some more spells, Shakra. Would that be okay?”

                “I’m going to have to,” Shakra groaned, “I’m getting you involved in my mess, so I had better teach you some spells to protect yourself.”

                “How about tonight?” Alice suggested, “after the shop is closed up?”

                Shakra just nodded.

Alice looked up as Maya poked her head into the back room, “We’re nearly out of dancing shoes.”

“Right,” Alice stood up and pushed the chair back, happy that the subject of gods was over, “I’ll do some up and come out with them in a bit.”

Shakra moved around Maya and into the shop, “it’s nearly lunch, would anyone like anything from the bakery?”

“A muffin, please! ‘Alice called after her. She was already reaching up to pull a shoe box off the middle shelf, setting it down on the desk and flipping the top off. Inside was a simple pair of red sneakers with white laces in a size eight. She placed the shoes on the desk and plucked a few threads from where they floated just above her, weaving them into the familiar pattern and criss crossing them over the laces. The active buzz of magic under her fingertips was always soothing for some reason. It was so familiar. So natural.

She repeated the process on three more sets of red sneakers in the most common sizes, and piled the boxes into her arms, the top one wobbling slightly as she moved for the door.

Altair snaked one arm out around her and snagged the top box, tucking it under his arm, “careful, you’re going to drop them.”

“Thanks,” Alice stopped in front of the dancing shoe display, “The shelf’s all dusty. Has anyone got a rag?”

“Catch,” Gabriel called from behind the desk, and Alice turned just in time for the crumpled grey rag to hit her in the shoulder.

“Hey,” she protested, “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were aiming for me!”

“Never,” Gabriel protested, but Maya giggled and punched him on the shoulder before he could protest further.

The bell jingled, and Alice gave the new customers – a short, round woman and her two children – a welcoming smile, “Welcome to Threads, do come in!”

“Thank you,” the woman gave her a smile back, and then became distracted as her little daughter went straight for the glass potion bottles, “Daphne! Come back here! Don’t touch those!”

The bell jangled as the door bumped shut, and Alice glanced back at it absently, just in time to see something very peculiar. On the sidewalk directly in front of Threads a small black dot appeared to hover in the air. As Alice stared it grew larger, becoming a swirling void, black tendrils of smoke, or fog curling around the edges. She could feel her eyes growing wide, and her heart dropping down into her stomach. What was that? Some sort of magical black hole had appeared directly in front of the shop. She couldn’t seem to speak, her mouth just hung open and her tongue didn’t work, even though she wanted to say something badly, wanted to shout a warning.

The black circle grew even larger, widening and stretching until it touched the sidewalk, it moved in strange, disturbing ways, like molasses running down a white wall. As she looked on in astonishment the void seemed to take on a shape, a vaguely human outline. Finally just as she was about to turn to the front desk and ask Maya and Gabriel if they were seeing what she was seeing, someone emerged from the fog. A woman stepped out, as though she were stepping through a doorway. She was very tall, taller than most men. Her skin was pale and her eyes were huge and dark. Her black hair had been blowing back as she stepped through, perhaps by some unseen wind, and now as she stepped onto the sidewalk it came to rest over her shoulders, nearly as long as her waist and pin straight.

Alice’s mouth was still hanging open, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the strange sight. The woman had on a long black dress that flowed like mist around her legs, constantly moving and twisting in tendrils, very much like the fog she’d just stepped through, which was slowly disappearing into the air behind her. Over her hair a twisted silver headdress sat, and  black pearls studded the bust line of her gown.

Finally Alice managed to squeak out a word, “Guys?”

Maya and Gabriel both glanced over at her curiously, and Altair, who’d been crouching at a set of shelves, straightened up, “What?”

“I think there’s a goddess at the door.”

Azura came hurrying out of the back room and stopped short upon seeing the stranger, who had now crossed her arms over her chest and was staring at them all patiently through the glass door.

“That’s not Athena,” she gasped.

“How do you know that?” Alice darted a sideways glance at her, reluctant to turn away from the powerful looking woman standing on the sidewalk, “how do you know what Athena looks like?”

“Shakra told me,” Azura said firmly, “it’s not her.”

“Then who is that?” Maya stammered, “and why isn’t she coming in?”

“I think maybe she’s just being polite,” Alice murmured, and started towards the door, ignoring Altair’s sound of protest.

Her hand shook even as she gripped the door handle firmly. The woman’s dark eyes were fixed on her face now. Alice jerked the door open, making the bell ring wildly above her head. She tried to make her voice sound steady, “Can I help you?”

The woman’s voice was deep and silky, “You are Alice?”

“Yes,” it was difficult to breathe standing this close to the woman. She’d been right in assuming the stranger was tall. She was practically a giant. Much taller than Ambrose had been.

There was a polite pause, and then the woman said, “may I come in?”

Alice glanced at the “We’re Open, Come in!” sign in the window. There’d been nothing stopping the woman from coming in before. In fact, there’d been nothing to stop her doing that little materializing  trick right in the middle of the shop. So obviously she was being polite. That was a good sign, right?

Alice nodded, a little lost for words, and stepped back, holding the door open.

The woman swept by her, darting one look around the shop before turning back to Alice, “Do you know who I am?”

The bell jangled as the door thumped shut behind her, and Alice nearly jumped. Should she know this woman? She certainly would have remembered meeting someone like this. The air around her was practically crackling with dark electricity, and when she glanced up at the ceiling she saw that all of the threads of magic were dipping down slightly, as if they were being pulled by some magnetic force. It reminded her of the time she’d overloaded with magic and made all the threads whip down from the ceiling and point at her. That had been alarming, and now here was some strange woman having a similar effect on the magic without even trying. It made her blood run cold.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know you.”

A small smile curled the woman’s lips. They were a dark burgundy color against her pale skin, like red wine spilled on parchment paper, “I don’t blame you, child. There aren’t many that know of me,” she drew herself up a little taller, and Alice had to force herself not to shrink back, “my name is Styx.”

There was dead silence in the shop, and then Alice said softly, “Styx. As in, the river Styx?”

Styx smiled, showing perfect white teeth, “Yes, as in the river. My river.”

Alice felt a little faint. She’d learned a little bit about the river Styx when she’d researched it before sending Ambrose there. She’d known there was a Goddess, a sort of personification of it. She’d been called the Goddess of Hate in the research Alice had done, or malice, depending on the version you looked at. What could the Goddess Styx possibly want with her?

Styx had been studying her face, and now she said gently, “You needn’t worry. I’m much less fearsome then my name implies,” then a little smirk tugged the corner of her mouth, “at least, you shall find me to be.”

To Alice’s shock the Goddess Styx reached out and placed one hand on her shoulder, dark eyes searching her face curiously, “I merely came to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Alice breathed.

“Yes,” Styx gave her a mischievous smile, “you sent me Epimetheus. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. He thought he’d got a one up on me, but now I have him to play with for years and years.”

Alice tried to suppress a little shudder, and Styx only smiled wider. Suddenly the goddess reached out and caught the little twist of bone on the end of Alice’s necklace, eyes narrowing, “Where did you get this?”

She had to force out the words, “a jewelry store in Prague…”

The easy smile was back, and Styx smoothed her thumb over the bone, “a very neat trick. Don’t let anyone take this from you. It can only be taken away through trickery.”

“What is it?” Curiosity was overcoming the fear, “Why is it so special?”

“It’s a vessel,” Styx closed her fingers around the bone, “I’ll show you. Watch.” The goddess suddenly shut her eyes and bowed her head, her dark hair falling in her face, after a second she opened her eyes again and looked down at Alice, uncurling her fingers.

There, nestled in her pale hand was the bone necklace. The white surface had changed, and now it was a deep, inky black.

“When you need me,” Styx’s black eyes were fastened on Alice’s brown ones, and Alice found that it was impossible to look away, as if the smooth, low murmur of her voice was hypnotizing her, “rub it between your forefinger and thumb and speak my name. It will only work once.”

“Why…” Alice stammered, “why…”

Styx laughed, releasing the necklace so that it dropped back against Alice’s collar bone, the twist of bone was warm against her skin, “Because you sent me him, and because I like you,” again she reached out one hand, but this time she cupped Alice’s cheek, her fingers hard and cold on Alice’s skin. The goddess Styx’s voice dropped to a whisper, “You’re special, Alice. You’re like a magnet,” there was a flash of regret on her pale face, “and it will cause you nothing but grief, poor child.”

Then Styx straightened up and turned away, dark dress swirling out around her, curling up, consuming her form from the ankles all the way up, until there was nothing left but a tiny whiff of black fog and the lingering smell of roses and rot.

After a long moment of silence Altair said, “What the hell was that about?”