Of Ginger & Spice

HM2V: Hestia the Acolyte

10: HM2V: Hestia the Acolyte

1:30 pm Lisbon, Portugal, Boutique Alta Roda, R. Domingos Sequeira 40-A

"If you must know, word travels fast among the acolytes, my dear. How are your three children? Three under age five can't be all that easy, you know..." Hestia's owl-like eyes peered directly into Macy's own.

There was so much to unpack here, Macy thought to herself, extremely confused. "First—what exactly is an acolyte and how come I've never heard of them before?"

"My dear," said Hestia, "acolytes are assistants, followers, or more accurately put, celebrants of all that is good in the magical world."

"Meaning..." Macy asked, not quite sure that she followed this older lady's train of thought.

"Meaning, of course, that we take various service positions, such as in retail, to watch over the magical community and hear of the comings and goings of the Charmed Ones. I suppose in modern parlance, that would make us...what is the word?" Hestia paused for a moment. "Ah, yes. Groupies!" She and Macy laughed together at that very moment. Even Macy knew what it meant to be a groupie—she definitely recalled putting up posters in her boarding school dorm room of Piper and Leo from an aughts-era TV show, never once imagining for a moment that that could have become her current reality.

"What exactly do you do with the information though, Hestia?" Macy then inquired.

"Nothing really," Hestia responded. "Mostly, I used to attend Elder meetings in the backdrop as a secretarial note-taker and inform the Elders if anything particularly dangerous or shocking occurred in the magical realm. Of course, the Elders are no more, so..." Hestia gestured about, "this is my full-time job now."

1:50 pm Lisbon, Portugal, Boutique Alta Roda, R. Domingos Sequeira 40-A

Macy felt something of pity for this grey-haired lady, who had obviously devoted her life to magic, only to have had it disappear on her in an instant. Life had its unpleasant twists and turns. "Do you..." Macy hesitated, and swallowed hard. "Do you miss attending the Elder meetings, Hestia?"

Whatever response Macy would have expected, it was not this. Hestia's eyes bulged, as she broke into cackles of laughter—she laughed so hard for the next minute or so that she cried. After several more minutes, Hestia recovered her composure. "Do I miss them, miss? Absolutely not! Half the time, we acolytes would have to throw Celeste in the adjoining cell (the "drunk tank" we called it) for her to sober up. The other quarter of the time was spent fielding coffee requests. I do not," she emphasized, with an index finger pointed upward, "miss that place at all!"

"Oh—ok—right," Macy felt a bit perturbed by Hestia's extreme reaction, though somewhat more at ease. She then remembered the second question she was going to ask. "Hestia, I only have one child, Maya. Why did you think there were three children?"

Now it was Hestia's turn to look uncomfortable. "Oh—no reason, miss. Perhaps it was an oversight---hmmm....yes, an oversight—now how about this gown? Let's have you try it on for Madame Hestia!" Hestia swooped over Macy's shoulder and picked up the diaphanous ballgown, draping it over her shoulder, and rapidly walked away, beckoning Macy to follow her to the dressing room. Macy raised an eyebrow, almost as if to dig deeper into the subject, then decided not to. Perhaps some things were just better left unsaid.

2:15 pm Lisbon, Portugal, Boutique Alta Roda, R. Domingos Sequeira 40-A

The damask gown had draped elegantly over Macy's figure, accentuating her curves and bosom in a way she hadn't known was possible. I should really go gown shopping more often, she thought to herself, as she paid for the dress and exited the store, the billowing folds of its draped tails flowing in the breeze like the photos of fashion models in high-end magazines she used to skim as a college freshman, back when she was still deciding what to major in.

2:20 pm Lisbon, Portugal, Boutique Alta Roda, R. Domingos Sequeira 40-A

Macy had agreed to meet Harry just outside Boutique Alta Roda. Where was he? The sunlight was too bright for her to view her phone's clock, so she ducked into a nearby unlit alley, readjusting her visibility settings.

"Fancy meeting you here, Dr. Valensi," a most familiar crisp, masculine British voice whispered in her ear, enveloped by the surrounding darkness. Macy leaned her head back ever-so-slightly, uttering the softest of moans.