Chapter 4: First Current

The silence in the living room was a living thing, thick and heavy with Grace’s shattered reality. The word ‘Naiad’ echoed in the space where her understanding of the world used to be. ‘Guardian’ felt even more impossible. She stared at the woman she had shared late-night pizza with, the woman who had teased her about her taste in movies, and saw a complete stranger.

“A Guardian?” Grace repeated, the words feeling foreign and brittle on her tongue. “A guardian for what? To stop me from… redecorating the apartment with my bodily fluids?” The attempt at sarcasm fell flat, sounding more like a plea.

Angie—Angelica—winced slightly at the blunt reminder. “To protect you,” she said, her voice low and serious. “And to guide you. Awakenings are… volatile. Dangerous. Especially when the person doesn’t know what’s happening. My job was to locate you and be here when it happened, to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself, or anyone else.”

Grace’s gaze drifted to the sofa, the scene of her chaotic Awakening. All the little things suddenly clicked into place with horrifying clarity. Angie choosing to be her roommate out of hundreds of applicants. Her uncanny ability to be present at just the right moments. The knowing smiles that weren’t teases, but assessments. The constant twisting of that silver ring wasn’t a nervous habit; it was the gesture of a sentry on watch.

“So this has all been a lie?” Grace asked, a fresh wave of hurt washing over the fear. “Our friendship? You just moved in to… to babysit me?”

“No,” Angie said quickly, stepping forward. Her expression softened, the hard lines of the Guardian momentarily receding. “The assignment was a lie. The friendship is real, Grace. I promise.”

Grace wanted to believe her, but trust was a fragile thing, and hers had just been vaporized. She wrapped her arms around herself, a futile attempt to hold the pieces of her life together. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Fine. I’m a Naiad. You’re my magic bodyguard. What now?”

A ghost of a smile touched Angie’s lips. “Now, we begin. Lesson one.”

Angie’s efficiency was startling. She moved with a purpose Grace had never seen before, clearing the clutter from their well-worn coffee table. She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a simple, wide ceramic bowl from their cupboard—one Grace normally used for soup. Angie placed it carefully in the center of the table and then filled it with water from a pitcher.

The living room, their shared space for movies and studying, suddenly felt like a classroom. Or an interrogation room.

“Your power—your hydrokinesis—is directly connected to your emotional state,” Angie explained, her voice taking on a professorial tone. “Think of your emotions as a volume dial. Anxiety makes the signal erratic, like static. That’s what you did to the pipes. Frustration is a blast of pure force. But desire… arousal… pleasure… that’s the clearest channel. It’s pure, focused, creative energy. It’s the source of your strongest control.”

Grace’s cheeks burned. So her power was intrinsically linked to the most private, mortifying moment of her life. Of course it was.

“The goal is to learn to access that control without… well, without needing the same level of stimulus as your Awakening,” Angie said, a hint of the old, teasing glint in her eyes.

Grace swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on the still water in the bowl.

“I want you to move it,” Angie said simply. “Just… make a ripple. Don’t think about how. Just feel the water. Connect with it. Will it to move.”

Grace sat on the floor, cross-legged before the coffee table. She took a deep breath, trying to clear her head. Connect with the water. It sounded like something from a bad self-help seminar. She stared at the bowl, focusing all her energy on the clear liquid. She thought about ripples. She pictured a stone dropping into a still pond.

Nothing happened. The water remained as placid and unmoving as glass.

“I can’t,” she said after a long minute, the frustration from before beginning to creep back in. “I’m not feeling anything.”

“You’re trying too hard,” Angie said softly. “You’re thinking. Stop thinking. You need to feel.”

Angie moved behind her. Grace tensed as she felt the warmth of Angie’s body close to her back. It was an intimacy that felt entirely different now, charged with a new, dangerous electricity. Angie knelt, her knees bracketing Grace’s hips.

“Let me help,” Angie murmured, her voice a low hum right beside Grace’s ear. Her breath ghosted across Grace’s neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

Angie reached around her, placing her hand gently over Grace’s where it rested on her knee. The contact was electric. Angie’s fingers were long and warm, her touch firm but gentle. Then, she slid her other hand forward, hovering it just over the surface of the water in the bowl.

“Close your eyes,” Angie whispered. Her voice was hypnotic, washing over Grace and dulling the sharp edges of her panic. “Breathe with me. In… and out. Good. Now, forget the pipes. Forget the shower. I want you to go back to Friday night.”

Grace’s eyes shot open. “What? No.”

“Yes,” Angie insisted, her voice a soothing balm that was somehow also a command. “Not the end. Not the… floodgate.” A hint of humor colored the word. “The beginning. The build-up. Remember that feeling? The heat gathering inside you. That deep, coiling pressure. That feeling of a current building. Find it, Grace. That’s your power. Feel it now.”

Her voice, a deep, resonant murmur against Grace’s ear, was doing things to her that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with the woman pressed against her back. The memory Angie wanted her to access was suddenly all too present, amplified by Angie’s proximity, by the scent of her clean laundry and something else, something uniquely her, like ozone and old books.

Grace closed her eyes again, her breath hitching. She let herself fall into the memory, into the sensation. The low, humming need. The slow bloom of heat in her belly. It was happening again, right here, a phantom echo of desire sparked by Angie’s touch, by her voice.

Her focus shifted from her mind to her body. She could feel the current Angie had described, a warm, liquid energy stirring low in her abdomen. It felt connected, somehow, to the water in the bowl.

“That’s it,” Angie breathed, her thumb stroking the back of Grace’s hand. “You feel it, don’t you? Now… reach out with that feeling. Let it touch the water.”

Grace did. She didn’t force it. She just let the blooming warmth inside her extend outward, a silent invitation.

The water in the bowl trembled.

Then, it rose.

It lifted from the surface of the bowl not as a splash, but as a single, cohesive rope of twisting liquid. It ascended a foot into the air, shimmering and alive, a serpent of pure water dancing between Angie’s hovering hand and the bowl below.

A gasp escaped Grace’s lips. It was beautiful. Terrifying. And she was doing it.

The thrill of it, a heady rush of pure power, mingled with the arousal simmering inside her. The combination was explosive. The feeling intensified, becoming a sharp spike of pleasure.

The water serpent convulsed. It swelled in size, its movements growing frantic, unstable. The pipes in the apartment walls began to groan, a familiar and ominous sound. The glass of a picture frame on the wall vibrated, rattling against its hook. She was losing her grip. The power was too much, too strong, threatening to erupt.

“Grace!” Angie’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and clear. She pulled her hands back, breaking the intoxicating contact. “Let it go! Release it. Now!”

The command sliced through Grace’s spiraling senses. With a ragged cry, she let go of the feeling, of the power.

The serpent of water collapsed, crashing back into the bowl with a loud splash that sent water flying across the table and onto the floor. The pipes fell silent. The room was still again, save for the sound of Grace’s frantic, panting breaths.

She opened her eyes, staring at the mess. Her body was trembling, flushed with the aftershock of adrenaline and something else.

She turned her head to look at Angie. The Guardian’s face was pale, her usually calm hazel eyes wide and dark. She was staring at Grace, not with disappointment, but with a dawning, troubled realization. Her gaze was fixed on Grace’s flushed cheeks and parted lips, and for the first time, Grace saw something other than a Guardian or a roommate in her eyes. She saw a flicker of the same dangerous heat she felt in her own veins.

“Okay,” Angie said, her voice a little unsteady as she pushed herself to her feet, putting a careful distance between them. Her hand went to her silver ring, twisting it compulsively. “So. That’s… a complication.”