Rules for Orion

chapter seventeen

Seventeen: Logan
September 24, 1:00 PM. Dwyer, VA.

The readings around town for the last three weeks have been fucked up. Devi and I have magical, homemade EMF readers set up on two extensive crystal-grid maps, one in each of our houses, but we also have apps that perform essentially the same task in a much smaller vicinity. (Most paranormal apps are bullshit for paranormal stuff, so it's a good thing Devi and I don't deal with ghosts. But sometimes, funnily enough, they work just fine for living mythological energy.)
Just when Avery left that night, my phone started to buzz. It notifies me whenever electromagnetic energy goes out of the normal range. And typically I can either let it be, handle it myself, or call in Devi to help.
But that time it was off the fucking charts. Ten to the twenty-fifth power. The same strength as nuclear weaponry.
When I went outside, just to see what it was, there was nothing there. Nothing except Avery standing and looking back at me.
And I know he didn't cause the spike, since he's near me all the time and nothing out of the ordinary ever happens then.
But he wasn't hurt, and he didn't even seem scared. When the average person sees something mythological, they typically go into hysteria. (It's happened a few times before, and we always have to fix it with some risky memory-erasing rosemary magic.) It's why we don't tell anyone. There's nothing actually forbidding us from it.
Anyway. The spikes kept happening. Never at the same time. Sometimes in the same place. Always around the same number.
Outside my house.
The old theater.
An alley behind Main Street.
The old theater.
The shore.
Outside my house.
The old theater.
Outside Target.
The old theater.
Devi and I have started texting each other pictures of the spikes when they light up our maps and we're there to see it. They've consistently matched up, so malfunctions can be tossed out. Devi thinks some witch has gotten way too deep into things, but I think it's something else. I'm just not sure yet.
Whatever it is, it seems to really like the theater. I can't flat-out ask Avery about it--how crazy would I sound?--but I've tried to do it kind of low-key. He never seems to know what I'm talking about. I'm seriously considering breaking into his sort-of home while he's not there. Just to check it out.
I'm outside the theater now, sitting in my car and swiping through the pictures of the maps while I wait for Avery. I'm so fixated that I don't notice he's opened the passenger door and gotten in until he waves his hand across my phone screen. I jump.
He laughs. "What's that?"
I turn off my phone. "Chemistry project."
"What on?"
"Geologic dyes."
If he knows that's not a real thing, he doesn't mention it. "You seem to be doing well."
"Devi did it." I put my phone in the cupholder.
We don't speak for a second. Avery's studying me.
He asks, "Are you not wearing black?"
I blank for half a second. "Yeah. But..." I glance down at my dark green hoodie. "S'close enough."
He's looking me up and down. There's always a strange liminal lull before we kiss.
We haven't really talked about this, the whole mutual attraction, making out on a regular basis thing. I think it's a sort of calm bubble for Avery in the middle of his all-consuming, apparently incredibly stressful work, whatever it really is. I'm starting to think it is for me, too. From school. Work. The stupid readings. I'm so used to knowing what I'm doing when it comes to magic.
Avery's teeth catch my lip for just a second before we break apart. He brushes his thumb over the crux of my jaw before he does the same with his mouth.
I see my chance and take it.
"Can we do this inside?"

This is the first time I've actually been in the old theater. It's not like I take night classes.
It's cold and a little humid. The lobby's a big, unlit hall with red tile and a line of double doors on the far side. Avery's already disappeared behind one of them, but he asked that I wait out here and said he'd be back. The whole place smells like mold and smoke.
Light flickers on through all the grimy glass panes of the double doors. It takes a few attempts, blinking out and sending a creepy hum through the whole building before it finally sticks.
One of the doors opens; Avery appears in the frame, flank pressed to the chipped wooden side.
Weirdly enough, he looks sort of in place here. I try not to let that freak me out. He motions me towards the door that undoubtedly leads to the auditorium, but I wait for a second to check my phone's compass. The auditorium, coincidentally, is the southernmost part of the structure (counting backstage), which means it would accumulate the most mythological energy. Energy, like a river, tends to flow south. At least in the Northern Hemisphere.
I try to psych myself up for whatever I'm about to see upon entering the auditorium that Avery apparently doesn't know about. Sometimes people don't see the signs of shit like this. Claw marks. Leaves and petals in places they shouldn't be.
It gives mice and wind a bad rap.
The reason the auditorium looks so dim is because the only lights are the stage lights, blaring and multicolored, trained toward the back curtain.
The back of Avery's hand trails against mine for a second, another, a third, until finally I realize I've been staring at the kaleidoscope circles cast by the stage lights for too long and let him take it. His whole arm is shaking.
"Tour?" he asks. Something is different about his voice, I can tell that much. But I can't place what it is.
I glance around the room. The idea of nothing actually seems scarier than the idea of something terrifying.
I laugh, because somehow him giving me a tour of the theater he lives in is funny to me.
"Yeah," I say. "Lead the way."