Chapter Two: In Which an Unconventional Gift Is Chosen in an Unconventional Shop.
Not even a week later, Judith decided that this must be one of those clusters of unusual occurrences that came in threes, for she unexpectedly ran into Angel for a third time as she was making her way home not long after sunset. As she glanced through the window shops that she passed, her eyes found Angel's dark, yet distinctive figure through the glass of one of the stores, looking at something on the shelves that she could not see beside the window. Judith stopped momentarily in surprise (though after their last meeting, she supposed by now she shouldn't have been surprised to see him anywhere).
Her surprise dissipated when she realized exactly which store he was in: Ferguson's Occultte Shop. She never trusted that shop, partially from the strange vibes it gave, but mostly because of its gross misuse of ancient spelling. It was a weak reason for disliking the establishment, but as a historian and lover of words, she felt more offended than she would've liked to admit by the lack of research involved in selecting the otherwise unoriginal title of the shop.
Suddenly, as if he felt her eyes, Angel glanced up and out the window. She started slightly at the sudden distance contact. The customary awkward pause followed, and then Angel surprised her again. With a visible hesitation, he crossed the length of the shop to the door and pulled it open. A bell tinkled inside.
"Hi," Angel said, betraying only some of the uncertainty she was sure he must have felt.
"Good evening," Judith nodded.
Angel seemed unsure how to continue. Finally, he said, "Listen, I'm sorry to bother you," he shifted his weight, "but can I ask you something? If you're not in a hurry, I mean."
Judith tried to hide her shock. "No," she said. "No, I'm not in a hurry."
Angel held the door wide open for her, which she took to mean that she was to enter the store. She hesitated. Anything from here was well within Angel's expertise. What could she possibly help him with? Taking a small breath, she pushed her way past the offensive sign and, for the first time in her life, entered Ferguson's Occultte Shop. Angel led Judith along the window directly to the far end of the shop, where she had first seen him.
"Here," he said, stopping at a shelf where several medium-sized wooden chests sat. "I wanted to get William one of these, for his birthday. And," he paused, sounding almost embarrassed. It unnerved Judith slightly. It was the first time he'd ever displayed anything so human. "I'm not sure which design he'd like."
"Oh," Judith said. This, she could help with. "Which ones were you thinking of?"
"Any one of these three," he pointed to two boxes on the middle shelf and one on the bottom shelf. Judith studied them for a minute, taken aback by how well Angel had already narrowed his choices down. William would love all three.
"What is it for?" She asked as she stared at the beautiful carvings.
Angel hesitated. "To keep his weapons in."
Judith took an extra deep breath to retain her appearance of nonchalance.
Angel continued, "He'll need a bigger one someday, but this will do for stakes and knives for now. It's kind of…traditional. I thought 16 would be a good age…"
"Does Calder have one?"
Angel nodded. "He was much easier to choose for."
Judith smiled and silence fell again.
"You know," Angel said after a moment, as she continued to weigh the choices, "I was really surprised you let me train him." Judith turned to look him in the eye. "I know how hard it can be…wanting to protect someone, but knowing you can't. I'm impressed by how well you're dealing with it."
Judith gave a small smile of appreciation. "I'm not the most thrilled a parent could be," she admitted. "But unlike many, I learned from my personal experiences: when a thing is forbidden, it becomes all the more desirable." Angel nodded while Judith paused. "And," she continued, "you've demonstrated that you're trustworthy; so if he's not under my watch, then I'd rather he be under yours."
Angel's mouth formed the slighted of smiles. "Thanks," he said.
Judith nodded and turned back to the shelves and silence fell while she made her choice. Angel was almost unnervingly patient.
"I think," she finally said, "that one." She pointed to the box on the bottom shelf. "The wolf under the full moon."
"I was leaning toward that one, too," Angel said, bending and lifting the box from the shelf. Its low scrape against the shelf told her that it was heavier than it looked. Angel looked over at her. "Thanks," he said again, and she nodded.
Angel nodded also, neither of them quite knowing if it had been a farewell sort of exchange of nods or a gratitude sort of exchange of nods. Deciding for himself, Angel turned and began to move away down one of the aisles. Drawn by some invisible string of curiosity, Judith followed.
"Tell me," she said, "doesn't the title of this shop bother you?"
Angel grinned slightly at the unexpected comment. "It does. But this is the closest place to me, and I like the artist who carves these wooden chests." As they walked down an aisle filled with all sorts of apothecary-like ingredients, Angel stopped to pick up a few bags of something dark green before continuing on toward the front of the shop. "Just don't ever come here for anything really important."
"These…spell ingredients, are they?…they're not important?"
"Not the basic stuff," Angel replied, and dropped the lot onto the counter for the middle-aged Asian clerk to ring up —who had clearly overhead the conversation and did not look pleased at Angel for turning away a potential new customer. Judith gasped when she read the total on the screen.
"Angel, that's far too much. You really don't have to—"
"Don't worry about it," Angel interrupted. Judith started to protest again, but Angel cut her off. "I've had a high-interest savings account for the past few hundred years not doing much besides grow." Angel glared threateningly at the clerk, whom Judith noticed had an unusually interested look on his face, and added, "A high security bank for, and run by, non-humans. Stealing one of the teller's pens is like walking out of the Swiss Bank with its most highly-valued charge."
The clerk tried to maintain a dignified frown, mumbling something in Korean as he handed Angel's card back.
"No need to be rude," Angel replied as he tossed his ingredients into the chest, closed the lid, and picked the whole thing up.
"You speak Korean?" Judith asked as they headed for the door.
"Enough to get by," Angel replied. "I passed through there once. Mostly I just remember the crass phrases because Ferguson doesn't like me."
Judith found herself intensely curious to find out more, but the door had closed behind them and they were out in the night air, and heading in different directions. Perhaps, given the chance, she would have invited him over for tea again and listened to him tell of his journey through Korea. But before she had the chance to even hesitate before asking, Angel thanked her again and bade her goodnight. She said good night as well, and allowed her moment of hesitation to be one of staring at Angel's quickly retreating figure before she, too, went home.