Page 18 of Until the Stars Fall

“Not. Interested,” I repeated, sipping on my tea again. “I’ve been through a lot lately, okay? And I don’t have a good track record with men, and I’m gonna have to look for a new job when I get to Gaia—” I looked at Hannah. “You told her about my job?”

She nodded, and I turned to Zola. “Please don’t tell Noah. I’d like to tell him myself.”

“I understand,” she said. “I didn’t tell him, and I won’t. But you look like you’ve had your own personal Year 2020, and I do want to help you, if you’d let me. As little or as much as you want.”

“I don’t know, Zola. It’s really sweet of you, but I don’t believe in any of that.”

“I can give you some options,” Zola continued, leaning back toward the table against the wall and picking up a bundle of dried leaves tied with twine.

“This is a bundle of herbs used in smoke cleansing.”

I nodded, acting as if this was new information. I used to make them in high school, growing my own lavender, thyme, and peppermint in the backyard, twisting them in twine, hanging them in my room to dry.

“It’s just sprigs of mugwort tied together and dried out,” she said. “When it burns, it increases the amount of negative ions in the air. And even though it’s a small thing, it might give you a lift. You know psychologists have proven that even a temporary lift in your mood will lead to better choices. It might give you some space to feel better.” She held the bundle out to me. “Want to smell it?”

I shook my head. “That’s okay.”

She reached back to the table again and grabbed a wooden crate filled with carefully packaged leaf bundles. Hannah oohed softly and pawed through the box.

“I’ve got all kinds. You have to match the plant to the need. I’ve grown all these myself. So if you ever want to talk about what you’ve been through, or even tell me what you think you need, I might be able to make a better choice than mugwort.” She studied the bundles, an artist selecting her brush. “Mugwort’s a good all-purpose herb for smoke cleansing, don’t get me wrong, but—” She turned and studied Gemma for a minute. “I’ve just got this feeling lavender and rosemary would be best for you. It’s to inspire calmness and heart opening.”

I exhaled a small laugh. “Two things I’m pretty short on. But…I don’t know.”

“Or maybe you’d rather a ritual bath?”

“Ooh.” Hannah nodded vigorously. “She wants a ritual bath.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s not magic, per se, just negative ions and good intentions. I’ve taken a suite on Level 1, kind of above where we are now, this corner of the ship. I chose it because it has both a shower and a deep bathtub. The whole bathroom is ti-dy. And I’d love to set you up.”

“What would I do?”

“You take a shower first and get clean. Because a ritual bath isn’t about getting clean, it’s about getting right. Then you put goodies into the bathwater as it fills, all with good intentions.” She swayed to the music of her words, opening her palms with each item on the list. “You light some candles, you pick some crystals, you cleanse yourself with smoke before you go in, and bam! You soak for thirty minutes. It can be life changing, even if you only believe the effects are psychological.”

I was a sucker for a long, hot bath. But even though what she suggested wasn’t too witchy, and her intentions were good, it was still too magic-adjacent. “No thank you.”

She leaned back in her chair. “What is it you’ve got against magic? If you don’t mind me asking.”

I opened my mouth, took a breath. How could I explain that my magic paced inside me like a tiger in a cage, ready to pounce and devour me whole? That I once used it without reserve and with the joy and naiveté of a child, and that it turned on my family, destroying it?

“Oh Gemma, you look so sad,” she said, reaching over and giving my arm a squeeze. “You don't have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just ask because I don’t understand.” She looked at my sister. “Hannah said you got her into witchcraft.”

Zola had been whittling at my wall, but that statement rolled me up tighter than a closed exhaust system, and my outward-pushing defenses went up. With them came my sharp tongue. “I don’t know. I guess I just grew up.”

Zola and Hannah both flinched, and I instantly regretted my words.

“I’m sorry.” I reached out with both hands to grab one each of theirs. “I didn’t mean to be insulting, it’s just…I can’t do magic. Anymore. And it upsets me to talk about it.”

Hannah’s face crumpled in sympathy, but Zola simply nodded, compassion glowing from her perfect complexion. “Fair enough. I have another option. Do you like aromatherapy? It’s science-backed too. Scents travel up your olfactory nerve and act on your amygdala to improve your mood. I’ve got some good-smelling candles you might like.”

Candles seemed innocuous enough, if burned properly and not en masse in an engine room. “Sure. I like things that smell good.”

Zola rubbed her hands together, her emerald engagement ring flashing. “Yes! Come see my collection.”

Hannah popped up too. “Can I have a candle too, Zo?”

“Of course, after you burn down and bring back the one you have now.” She led us to one of the wooden cabinets and pulled the double glass doors open wide. Inside were dozens of candles, grouped by color and formed in a wide variety of containers: baby food jars, mason jars, tin cans, shot glasses, drinking glasses, and repurposed commercial candle jars.

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