#c van

Van bit down on the inside of her cheek, shooting furtive glances over her shoulder. The woman behind the counter eyed her from behind the book she was reading, eyebrows pulled together in suspicion. This was so stupid. She wasn’t even… what was it, a spellcaster? A magician? A witch? She just had magic. It was an inherent and unfortunate part of her. It was something she didn’t mind the thought of getting rid of, but she didn’t know how. She figured Like a Charm might be the best place to find that information, but for the most part, she wasn’t finding anything that would aid her in her desperation. She thumbed through a couple of different tarot decks, not able to make sense of any of the symbols or images. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t… somebody who would take to this, she was something else entirely. 

A nervous sweat beaded across the back of her neck as she tried to tuck tail and run, but instead of making it through the door, she was slamming into a girl quite a bit taller than herself. Something from the other woman’s hands fell to the ground, and Van dropped into a kneeling position to pick it up. It was a number of herbs, as well as a book that Van couldn’t read the title of. “Sorry– I, sorry.” She gathered the items, straightening up as she shoved them towards the girl, gaze fixed on her own hands and how they shook slightly. 

Like a Charm seemed like an absolutely kitschy sort of place – or maybe that was just Mahuika’s good views manifesting themselves. Though she knew that she was right at least to some degree, because some of the things in the shop were absolute junk. Still, she wasn’t going to say that out loud (at least not while she was in the shop), and maybe there was something of use here.

Correct, there were many somethings of use here, and she was totally shopping local, which made her a totally good person, right? Mahuika knew it did, and being in a place dedicated to the appreciation of magic was always good in her book. A place that showed just how better those with magic were. How much more deserving of… everything. 

She’d collected some herbs and a book, though those items had suddenly found themselves on the ground and someone else was in front of her and apologizing and Mahuika grinned, giving a shake of her head. “No worries, I was in your way. There’s nothing you need to apologize for.” If the girl wasn’t magic, then she’d have a few other things to work through, but she figured that she should just go ahead and try optimism for the heck of it, at least in this particular moment. “Are you okay? I wouldn’t want you to get hurt or anything like that.”

Van wasn’t sure that was right– she had definitely run into the girl. She resituated the items so that they didn’t fall out of the girl’s hands again and she wiped her palms against her sweatshirt. “What? No, I’m totally fine.” She offered a weak smile. She was trying hard not to look at the items that the girl had, mostly because that was rude, but she was never good at minding her own business. Ever. 

Finally, her gaze dragged down and she took note of the herbs, of the book. “You’re really going to buy that stuff?” Was she just some girl, looking to grow a garden, or was this something else? “I mean– sorry, that’s not the right question.” She felt heat rise to the back of her neck again. “I was just wondering. This is my first time here, and I don’t really know what I’m looking at, and honestly I just thought it was a place for tourists.” She kept her voice low as she spoke, as to not offend the clerk who was shelving items across the store. 

“Yeah, I am really going to buy all this.” Mahuika did her best to keep her expression light – curious – neutral. Any number of good things because pissing everyone she met off was simply not it. Even if a part of her wanted that to be it, but she’d learned through enough trial and error that being nice and pleasant got her what she wanted most of the time. That was – whenever she wasn’t getting what she wanted through her more preferred means of such eventualities. 

“I think some of it is for sure for tourists.” Mahuika nodded toward a deck of mass-produced tarot cards by the front. “But some of it’s legit. Because magic is legit.” She couldn’t help but scrunch up her face ever-so-slightly, ready to duck out or duck somewhere if the girl made fun of her. There was still a bitterness about the possibility of that, but Mahuika liked to avoid thinking about that whenever possible. Besides, she could deal with this girl if she did decide that Mahuika was full of it. “Do you want … help … knowing what you’re looking at?”

“You must be like, rich or something.” Van had no clue how much everything cost, there weren’t really any price tags for her to snoop on. “Sorry– or you’re just really good at managing your money? I mean, I’m like, not. At all.” She bit the inside of her cheek, sending an apologetic glance towards the brunette. God, she was terrible at communication. 

Van’s gaze swept over the goods stacked into the shelves, a minor chill running down her spine at the mention of magic, and how it was legit. It was weird, hearing other people discuss it so nonchalantly. She’d been hiding from it her whole life, and now, she was in public discussing– or rather, being talked at about magic. She swallowed thickly, clearing her throat. “Um… I don’t… really know what I’m looking for? This is my first time in a place like this.” She looked at the girl with a pleading expression, as if begging her not to tell her this wasn’t her place. It had to be. Where else was there? 

“I don’t… I’m not familiar with like, any of this stuff.” How dangerous was it to come clean to somebody else who also believed in magic? Probably dangerous. Van forced her gaze to not linger on the brunette for too long. “What do you… recommend? What are your favorites?” Was she even going to be able to afford it? 

“I’m not.” Which was probably something too blunt and personal or whatever, but it was true. She was working at Bearcliff to make money, not because she was some fancy hotshot princess (well, she was one of those things) who wanted to know what normal life was like. Mahuika’s nose threatened to scrunch up into something resembling disgust but she flipped it around and grin. “No, o-m-g. I’m really not. I guess I’m good?” She shrugged. 

“Your first time?” Now Mahuika’s grin was far more real. Which was incredibly rare, but her smile nearly reached her eyes. “Let me help you! If that’s okay, because I’m a stranger?” She’d already decided that she was going to help, but the girl didn’t need to know that. The girl who she very much hoped was not some freakish magic witch-spellcaster murderer. But if she was, the Mahuika would just deal with that. She didn’t go around without physical items for self defense.

“Well, it depends on what you want to do with it. It’s not like you can get one crystal or one paper — and it’s also about laws, and what the person intends to do as their magic.” This girl better not up and try to steal her thunder, Mahuika thought. But she desperately wanted to know someone else magic, and this girl looked like she needed help, so it could be a double win. A new magic-user to know, and a charity case to work on. “Do you have any clue about any of that? Or we could just take a walk around? Just get comfortable vibing with the place?”

Van eyed the girl apprehensively as if willing some kind of mask to fall away from her face, to reveal her true intentions. But there was nothing– she seemed nice, seemed like she wanted to help in the way that Van so obviously needed. She tucked her balled up hands into her sweatshirt pockets and bit the inside of her cheek as she nodded, a little too pathetically for her own good. “I mean, like I’m old enough to know not to talk to strangers, but this is like, super public and you seem to know what you’re doing.” Van wasn’t really afraid of what might happen here, mostly because she could run away if needed. It wasn’t like they were secluded and alone. 

The stranger was discussing laws and about what she intended to do with her magic, and Van had to stop herself from telling the brunette that the only thing she’d done with her magic was kill people and melt tables. “I– no, I don’t know anything about… are there like, magic lawyers and stuff?” Was she being secretly watched by some kind of witch-y unity circle? Did they know everything bad she’d ever done? Was this girl here to make her pay? Van’s mind ran wild with the scenario and a small sweat broke out across the back of her neck as she considered the possibility. 

“To be fair, I think even some eight-year-olds have that sense.” Mahuika offered the girl a small smile. “But I get that – and you’re right. But this is public, and I wouldn’t ever hurt you.” Assuming, of course, that this girl was also a magic-user. Which was a bit of a gamble, but Mahuika liked to think she had a good read on people. Though there was little that she wouldn’t think she was good at. It just meant that she had really super solid self-confidence. Obviously. Some might have seen it as being overly self-important, but she didn’t, and that was clearly what mattered most.

“Also yes, I do know what I’m doing.” She grinned. “Oh, not laws like that. Laws like…” Mahuika paused, trying to think of a way to explain it without scaring her off. “There’s things that balance the world, and magic plays a role in that. I don’t want to overwhelm you. But you’re not like, in trouble. Fuck the law, right? Human law, I mean. Not the magic law. That is actually important.”

I wouldn’t ever hurt you. Van had to keep herself from telling the girl that sure, that’s what somebody who wanted to hurt somebody would say, but because this wasn’t some low budget horror film, Van kept her mouth shut. She gave a small nod, not sure what else to say to that. Was she supposed to tell the brunette that she wouldn’t hurt her either? Was that more menacing than anything? Probably, right? 

Balance. Yeah, that was the word– that made more sense than the idea that there was some kind of witch institute teaching magic users how to be lawyers or something. “Oh… balance. Right, okay.” There was not really any balance within her own realm of experiences, she realized. Everything felt severely out of balance. “Yeah, fuck the law. Not… magic law, I guess.” Van kept her voice low, despite the fact that they were in a like minded shop. For all she knew, these could be fake people with fake things to say about magic. But then why would somebody who said she knew about magic be here? Was she fake, too?

Van’s mind ran away with the limitless possibilities, uncertainty clouding her expression. “So you… you know a lot about like, all of this?” It was so unfair, she thought. To have been taught nothing; to have existed in this without really knowing what was happening to her. Why had other people gotten lucky enough to know what they were? 

“See? We’re already on the same page!” Mahuika resisted wrapping her arm around the girl, because that wasn’t good to do without asking and the last thing she wanted right now was to scare the girl off. That wouldn’t do anybody any sort of good anything. Especially because for all that it was absolutely a terrible idea, she already found herself drawn in by the other (assumed) spellcaster. If she could get her hands on someone who was confused and new to all of this, and help them become what they deserved, then that would be all kinds of absolutely perfect.

“I do know a lot. I grew up knowing.” She forced herself to frown, just slightly. Except that the pity she felt for the girl was so real that it was almost tangible. Which was not great (the pity, the loss of time being with magic that the other girl clearly had), but at the same time, worked out absolutely perfectly, just as she’d intended for it to. Mahuika nodded. “I got lucky, but I can help you, if you want. I’d love to help. Teach you whatever I can. I’ll even buy us snacks or lunch or dinner or whatever – and I can be free pretty much whenever works for you. How does that sound?”

Van should have been jumping with joy at the sight of another magic user. Between this girl and the shopkeeper at the Sugar Pot, Van should’ve been expressing immense gratitude, but all she could feel was… well, she wasn’t sure what she felt, but it wasn’t really anything good. Van stared at the brunette, mouth slightly ajar. 

“I’m– I don’t know what you’re supposed to like, teach me.” She was recoiling from the help being extended to her again. Even when it came to Teddy, all Van had taken was the ring. The ring that sat heavy in her pocket, unused, because maybe she didn’t want– she wasn’t sure what she didn’t want, and she wasn’t sure what she did want. She took a small step back from the girl across from her, clearing her throat. “I’m– um, I don’t… really know what I’m supposed to be learning.” A small, nervous laugh escaped her as she clasped her hands together, eyes darting around the room. “I just sort of like, walked in here, you know?” This was all too real– the idea that somebody could help her– or a few somebody’s.. no, she couldn’t take up their time. “I’m sorry for wasting– um, your  time.” 

“You don’t need to be sorry. You’ll learn what you’re meant to learn, all in time. You walked in here and that means something, and I’ll be here for you, alright?” God, she needed to chill with the altruism. But, Mahuika supposed, it wasn’t so bad to be helpful when you were helping another spellcaster. At least this way this girl wouldn’t end up kidnapped or dead. Hopefully.

Regan would give it to the Apple Store – they knew how to create a clean, almost sterile-looking environment. The floors shined. The walls were bare like the back of a tombstone. If only they got rid of all of the computers.

Van seemed to know what she was doing. So, uncertain, Regan followed Van up to the counter. As nice as this store was, she didn’t like the idea of an iPhone, but her Blackberry repair man was not responding to her messages, and she didn’t know of any other Blackberry specialists on the east coast. Ironically, there was one in Dublin that popped up in her searches. She panicked and snapped the laptop shut when she saw it. So Regan was willing to give this a try.  

And it was good practice. Because Regan forgot how to be anything other than a failure, so she was attempting to be something else now. Not a failure, not perfect, something in between, like a human. “Hello,” Regan greeted the boy at the register – little more than a pimply teenager. His nametag said John Pubik. Loathing filled her immediately and she wasn’t sure why. “I am looking for a phone. It must be durable, able to withstand a sc– humans. Obviously. Me. I am the human.” Her stomach burned red. She needed to take some of the heat off her. So she pointed at Van like she had previously been invisible. “This one, too. She is also a human. The phone is for me, though. Not the human. I mean, the other human.” Regan shook her head. “Forget the humans.” She never could. “Durable. Do you have that? And I would prefer a rectangular one.”

———

Van’s end goal when Regan had asked her for help in finding a new phone had been to install all of her favorite games onto it, that way she could pester the white haired woman into giving her hearts and recharges. Obviously the whole not using a blackberry thing was optimal, too. Who even used those anymore? Though, she had to guess that with an iPhone, Regan’s use of emojis would double— no, triple. Then again, that wasn’t her issue. Her issue was… getting Regan a new phone and installing Tsum Tsum and Candy Crush. Maybe even Honkai Star Rail. She looked at Regan out of the corner of her eye, deciding against the latter. Regan would take one look at Pom Pom and think about what it’d be like to see his bones, probably. 

She stood next to Regan quietly as John Pubik walked up to them. She remembered that last name. He had gone to high school with her, a couple of grades ahead. She was almost positive that his sister, Lorelai Pubik was now some like, mommy blogger or something. Yeah, that sounded right. Though, as Regan began to speak, discussions of being human ensnaring them, Van cleared her throat. She was human, but Regan was not. And Van was like, totally cool about that! Her best friend was a bear, and people she went to school with were turning into werewolves. Hell, John Pubik was probably a siren or something. Probably. She looked at him, looked at his reflection in a neighboring mirror. Okay, not a siren. 

“All iPhones are rectangle,” Van assured Regan with a smile. She pointed to the latest iPhone, “it’s going to need a lot of storage. She likes… storage.” Never mind it was for the games she would be downloading. “Needs all of the emojis. You can do that, right?” Van could just go and pick out the phone that Regan needed easily, but she seemed dead set on wasting this guy’s time. John Pubik looked between them, heaved a sigh, and motioned for them to both follow to the latest iPhone release. 

“The green one is nice, right? But they have just like, basic silver. You look like a basic silver person.” Van picked up the phone, the cord keeping it from being stolen, snapping it back into place. She withdrew her hand and rubbed her thumb from where it had pinched the skin. 

“All we got are rectangles, miss. Unless you want an Apple Watch. That’s a square.” 

God forbid Regan learn about apple watches. “We’re just looking for a phone.” She imagined Regan would ask, how do you even fit an apple into a watch? That’s absurd! Or maybe Ireland had changed her. Who knew. 

———

All phones were rectangles? An itch of embarrassment prickled at Regan’s skin as she followed Pubik and Van over to a display with some phones, which in her opinion cluttered up the space. She left these phone-related annoyances up to digital forensics. She did know about storage, though. And not just the kind that housed cadavers and files. “Yes, storage is important. It must fit the internet on it – a browser, are you familiar? – and many photos, as I never delete anything. You shouldn’t either. It will aid the death investigators when you die.” John stared, his mouth somewhere between a gape and a frown. 

A quick snap grabbed Regan’s attention. She gave Van a sideways look, but then studied the colors of the phones by her hands (and the color of her hand, which was slightly red). “Did the phone hurt you? Did he arrange for this?” Her lungs readied themselves. But she pieced together what happened when she saw the coiled cable. Regan reminded herself to focus, because she didn’t like John. She kept catching the intention to betray deep in his eyes. The reason was unclear.

Regan looked back and forth between the two phones again. The green was closer to the color of her (ex-)wings than it was a tempting shade of jade. So… “silver,” she confirmed, pleased with Van’s assessment. The child knew what she was doing. “You are good at this. You should work here.” Regan did not look at John. He shouldn’t work there.

Pubik eventually seemed to shake himself free of some shock. He was pale. Regan debated offering to get some water. John Pubik was fine, though. Regan didn’t know his lineage but she suspected the Pubiks were always fine, even if it was at the expense of others. She blinked at the thought. Where did that come from? Also, why did she even need emojis? She was not some child, who needed the aid of images to convey messages. 

Durable like bone, as it turned out, Pubik pressed on. “Right-o. A new, silver phone with storage and emojis. We can sure do that, ayup. All the models have emojis. Any of our phones, and any from the last dec–” He looked in Van’s direction and stopped talking. Weird. He cleared his throat and pivoted. “Yup. They’ll even update with the new ones every year, like the shaking heads in 17.4. Crazy it took them so long to make those ones, eh?” John seemed to be making an effort to inject some normalcy into the conversation. Regan only grew more confused. And harbored emoji opinions that had only needed a poke to be expressed. “Do you not control the emojis? Release more, faster. Add a liver. Animate them. Why do they not move?”

Pubik looked in Van’s direction again. He was sweating heavily. Again, Regan wondered about water. “Tell me if you feel faint,” she instructed him, which was a completely normal, human thing to say to a fellow human (even one who she suspected was disloyal). Regan stretched the iPhone closer to her face and flicked a finger against the glass screen, which seemed so fragile. It didn’t bode well. “I will purchase this. How many of these do I get per week? What are my options for plans? Emoji and otherwise.” Thank rot she had Van here to guide her.

———

Van wasn’t sure why Regan was explaining browsers to the phone sales guy, but that didn’t matter. He looked a little confused, but Van made no move to explain Regan’s… thought process (that was probably a good term!), because it would only send them in tight little circles, and Van wasn’t totally sure she wanted to go down that road. It would take a lot more energy to explain what she meant than it would to just let her say the things she wanted to say. It was probably better off that way, anyway. “You’re going to need like, a lot of storage.” How long did banshees live for? Awhile, right? Then again, Regan would be collecting new phones by the time she was gone, right? Van would be like, seventy, and Regan would be… how old was Regan now? Van’s mind wandered as she watched the salesman flounder beneath the array of questions Regan had. 

At her question, she shook her head. “I mean, no? I don’t— no?” She let out a short laugh, shooting the salesman, John Pubik, an apologetic glance. She didn’t need to apologize for Regan and she knew that, but it felt like she should. She was a little odd, and she could be off-putting. The only reason Van hadn’t found her as such was maybe because she liked her a bit like someone liked the shoes they couldn’t ever throw out. That was a great comparison, Van thought. 

“I don’t really want to work here.” She already dealt with tons of annoying people at Sly Slice. She could only imagine how annoying the people would be with technology. But this wasn’t about Regan, no way. Van thought Regan’s requests were… very like her. They were understandable! “I’m sure it’s like, a super cool place to work at though.” She looked at the array of phones on the desk after putting the one she had picked up back down. She was in the market for a new phone, too. The one she had bought off of Craigslist after breaking the one Erin had given her had a cracked screen and it was hard to tell exactly how much damage she was doing during boss fights in HSR. 

John Pubik went on to relay back exactly what Regan was looking for, but she was almost certain he was going to screw it all up, because she gave him a stern shake of her head as he began to veer into dangerous territory. God forbid Regan want a phone from every decade. That would be something she’d want, especially to test out what was optimal. Van couldn’t let that happen. She needed the most recent one, or maybe the one before that, but nothing in the past ten years. Absolutely not. 

“Nobody controls the emojis. I don’t think he has the power to do that.” She shot him a glance before she picked up another phone while Regan examined the one that fit her needs. “And you can get stickers that move. From the App Store. I’ll show you how.” She should be the one to set up Regan’s phone, probably. If this guy did it, he would do it wrong, and then it would be her problem later anyway. 

“Get per week? You want multiple phones?” John Pubik tilted his head to the side, clearly confused by Regan’s question. 

Again, Van interjected, “you can get an otterbox— no, it doesn’t have like, otters or otter things inside of it.” It would be something that she asked, and she just knew it. “It’s a case. For your phone. They’re the best. I had one on my old phone before it got stolen. They’re like, super expensive. You make doctor money, so it will be fine.” She smiled at John Pubik, then turned her attention back to Regan. “You only need one phone. One phone. One otter box. A screen protector. That’s what we’re here for. I’ll download you moving stickers.” And other things, but Regan didn’t need to know about those yet.

———

“I don’t care about stickers. Those are for children. I care about watching a liver because I cannot do that through other means.” Maybe Regan should have given the simulation baby stickers instead of that knife, though. Van, once more, seemed to know what she was doing, and Regan was grateful to have her right now. Maybe she could talk some sense into Pubik. How was this confusing? 

“Yes, multiple phones. Sometimes multiple per day. Your phones are poorly-constructed and the glass is thinner than the maggot-chewed epidermis of a four day old cadaver. You should be ashamed. So I need more than one.” He only looked more confused than before. This man was testing her. Regan continued, “You see, I used to be a loyal customer of the Blackberry phones. They are sturdy. The femurs of phones. But now they’re gone, and my choices are between an iPhone and Google, which I do not trust. They have a browser, by the way. Are you aware? Anyway, I–” 

She was cut off by Van mentioning a box of otters. “What stage of decomp–” Cut off again. It was just a phone case. Didn’t Van understand why she needed so many phones? It had nothing to do with the consistency of the edges, and everything to do with how breakable the screens were. Regan frowned down at the models. They would disappoint her within a day. Unless Van knew something she did not… and she did seem to be full of knowledge on the subject matter. Regan decided she would allow Van to make this call. “Fine. One phone, and the otter, and the livers.”

Regan had never seen a more obvious expression of relief than the one on Pubik’s face. He was the Google of humans. Untrustworthy. Pretended to know everything, but was likely full of inaccuracies and misdirections. He slipped away to get the phone Regan was apparently purchasing, and she looked at Van, raising an eyebrow. “He is confusing, hm?”

When Pubik returned, it was behind the counter, and that, too, seemed to spill relief over his face. Regan exchanged another odd look with Van. How was she supposed to get better at not being a banshee when she was meeting such suboptimal humans? 

“Your phone, miss. And I grabbed one of the Otterboxes from the back, free of charge. Do you need anything else? Like um, umm, there’s another store over there.” He pointed to the door. She realized he had grey pits on his white shirt. “Plenty of different Apple Stores! There’s another one over in Portland! And Augusta!” His eyes teared up. His grin did not reach them. His pimples were red. Everything about him said don’t come back. Regan measured him with no expression, staring, and the pimples grew redder. If Van said to do this… she handed over her credit card, though she hadn’t actually checked if her bank account had been emptied since coming back. It didn’t matter. 

As Pubik rang up the new phone, all Regan could think about (other than the sense of imminent betrayal she felt in her marrow) was that Pubik hadn’t wanted to work here. Regan couldn’t fathom why. Also, how did he know where he wanted and didn’t want to work? How did anyone know? She thought of medical school, the morgue, how everything just clicked in a way that fulfilled her and helped others, but… but what if it had all been because of what she was? What if she never actually wanted it, because she had been taught not to want? She couldn’t go back yet. She needed to try other things. This Regan was a free-thinker. An idea began to stir in her skull. And never quite finished stirring before she spoke it aloud.