Chapter Fourteen

The only problem Cierra was noticing was that she had an entire day to spend before being able to go back to the dream realms. That is, if she wanted to keep a healthy life-dream balance, which she thought she did, at least for the moment.

Getting up from her desk, she decided to make the most of the day. There was no reason she couldn't take care of schoolwork and exercise while also preparing herself for whatever awaited in the dream realms.

She packed a bag with her laptop and notebook, took photos of the next few pages in her calculus text that she needed to focus on, and changed into her running gear. There were only two places Cierra could think of that might have more information on mythology: the library and Auntie Guo's.

Cierra included Auntie Guo because she was from China, and she always talked about things Cierra couldn't understand, like the pride Auntie's family had taken in visiting Fuxi's mausoleum in Henan province to ensure they would have a boy. Cierra had asked questions about this years ago. There was already a Chinese goddess, Nüwa, that Auntie had spent a week talking about, who oversaw the creation of people and fertility. Why would someone go to Fuxi regarding pregnancy when Nüwa existed? It had bothered Cierra to no end.

Not even her aunt, raised in a Chinese household in America, knew what Auntie was talking about sometimes.

If anyone knew about Chinese superstitions and myth, it would be Auntie Guo.

The library was Cierra's first stop. She wanted to read everything she could get her hands on when it came to mythology, whether it be Norse, Egyptian, or anything else.

It was time to be prepared for anything. She gave Cid a courtesy pet as she left, locking the front door behind her, not wanting to waste any more time.

There was something calming about her feet on the concrete; if she concentrated, she could pretend it was her heartbeat, calm and steady. It helped that there were never many people out on the sidewalks. Most people preferred to drive everywhere instead of walk.

Once, when Cierra and Dawn were lazing about one afternoon years ago, she had told Dawn that she liked to run from home to the old park, only about an hour away. Cierra never forgot Dawn's reaction or how her jaw had dropped.

"How can you run that far? You know you have to run back, right?" Dawn had asked, shocked. It was as if Cierra had told her that she ran to a neighboring state and back every day.

Cierra had tried to explain the way it felt when the wind caressed her wet skin while she ran, like nature's encouragement, but Dawn had given her a look that screamed 'I don't know you,' eyes incredulous, mouth open. By the end of the day Dawn had conceded that at least Cierra could outrun any killer if their lives ever became like a horror movie. Though she had added the caveat that supernatural clowns or werewolves would still be a problem.

From then on, Cierra claimed the sidewalks for herself. If no one else was going to use them, why shouldn't she benefit?

It was only about a forty-five minute jog to the library, through the city square and past her high school.

She was starting to get into the groove, concentrating on keeping her breathing even, when she ran into someone.

"Oh!"

Cierra stepped back, embarrassed.

"I'm so—," She stopped, suddenly even more flustered, "Jeremiah?"

In front of her stood Dawn's crush, his moonstone piercings swapped out for all gold plated, a chain dragon descending in loops around one of his ears.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, thinking back on his comment from the night before.

He arched an eyebrow. "I'm literally walking in the city I live in. Is that problem?"

"Right," Cierra swallowed nervously, and took a step back, her face hot. "Right. No problem at all."

"Who's this, Jeremiah?" For the first time Cierra noticed the woman standing behind Jeremiah, slightly hidden. She was shorter than him, but around the same height as Cierra, with chopped shoulder length maroon to black ombré hair. Her eyes were wide set and dark, her nose small yet high, and her mouth reminded Cierra of a razor slash. Her clothes were like something out of the Matrix, every inch of her boney frame leatherbound.

It made Cierra sweat to look at her.

"I'm Cierra," she answered, holding out her hand, cutting off Jeremiah as he opened his mouth to answer. If she wanted to know who she was, she could ask directly.

"Tia," She took Cierra's hand in her own. Her nails, cut into femme fatalon points and painted gold, prodded into Cierra's skin. "Pleasure to meet you."

Jeremiah positioned himself between them, "She's my aunt."

They both definitely have their own sense of style, Cierra thought to herself.

"Where are you headed?" Tia repositioned herself next to her nephew. "It would be nice to get to know one of J's…," she eyed Cierra up and down, "Friends."

"I don't think—"

"Sorry, but—"

Cierra and Jeremiah found themselves making excuses at the same time.

They both stopped, awkwardly laughing, waiting for the other to continue until there was nothing left but a moment of quiet. Tia looked between the two of them before settling her gaze on Cierra, a slight smile on her thin lips.

Cierra took the awkward silence as an opportunity to continue.

"Sorry, I'm just out on a run and then going to study a bit at the library." She pointed at her bag while she talked, twisting to show them.

"It was nice to meet you though." With that Cierra waved and took off, already planning on telling Dawn all about her chance encounter with Jeremiah and her aunt. She wasn't sure what she thought of Tia, but she knew she didn't want to shake her hand again as long her nails were so obviously meant for murder.

It was only when she arrived at the library that Cierra realized she had forgotten to apologize to Jeremiah for running him over on the sidewalk. She was going to have to remember to apologize to him the next time they met; maybe she could make it into an opening for Dawn.

Catching her breath, she headed inside. On the way, she had decided she would start with gathering more information on Freya. Sekhmet and west mountain were interests, but neither were the main issue at hand.

Immediately, Cierra was able to find books on Norse mythology, most unoriginally titled exactly what she had searched for: Norse Mythology (from at least five different authors), Viking and Norse Mythology (two authors), Handbook of Norse Mythology (three authors), and various copies of Manual of Mythology.

How was it legal for so many people to have written basically the same book with the same name? Cierra wondered, deciding to grab a least one copy of each title.

While reading, she came across an entry in one of the Norse Mythology texts that was attached to Freya, or Freyja according to some. Apparently, the wife of Odin, Frigg, was commonly connected to Freya, though Frigg was less associated with open sexuality and more often described as being adept at magic. In some texts, Frigg and Freya were interchangeable, much like Sekhmet and Bastet.

Another commonality, Cierra made sure to jot it down in her notebook. For being in different pantheons, these two (or was it four now? Cierra mused) goddesses had a lot in common.

There had to be some underlying reason why her hunt for Freya led her to Sekhmet, she just needed to figure out why.

Going back, she grabbed more books on Egyptian mythology, but after an hour she had found nothing new.

Her stomach rumbled, startling her. Glancing around, she was happy to find that no one had heard her. She checked the clock on the wall at the front of the library, almost eleven thirty.

Forcing herself to put the books away, she opened her phone to look at the photos she had taken earlier.

She sighed. If only calculus homework did itself.

It was one by the time she left, head heavy. She wasn't sure how many more equations she could learn before her head simply floated of her shoulders and popped. There was something about math that always left her feeling exhausted, as if she had been fighting a bear.

At least she knew that there was always food at Auntie Guo's store. She made jiaozi, baozi, and scallion pancakes fresh daily, though in small quantities. Hopefully she hadn't run out of the pancakes yet. They weren't as fluffy as western pancakes, but they were savory and crispy when hot. Cierra remembered back in the day she used to sell shaobing, a type of sesame flat bread that was coated with a thin layer of salt on the inside.

Cierra's stomach growled just thinking about it.