Sanctuary

She looked up.  She was half way around the building.  The darkness and pouring rain obscured her view.  The sanctuary was across the side courtyard under a Paris manhole, but she still needed to see her father before she left the protective side of the building.  A bolt of lightning illuminated the sky.  He was there above her head pointing toward the place she needed to find.

     Her father sat where he had fallen to an Ahriman.  He was a stone statue, what the human world called a gargoyle.  Tears welled up in Irti’s eyes, she knew he had been transformed to stone by a grievous injury.

     She cursed the Ahriman that gave her the injury she suffered now.  She had not completed her mission.  Now, she knew it would be a long time before she would get her next assignment.

     She walked across the courtyard toward the manhole cover that hid the sanctuary.  She got to the cover only to see a light from a slightly open doorway.  A short stout woman hung just outside the open door.  “Daeva, I need you to come to me.”

     Irti barely heard the woman.  The rain and wind obscured much of the sound.  “I must find my own kind.”  She shouted back at the older woman.

     The woman ignored her, motioning with an arm for Irti to walk forward.  Irti did, for some reason the older human made her feel safe.  There were some humans who knew of her kind and helped.  Maybe the older woman was one who knew. 

     A shiver raced up Irti’s spine as she approached the woman.  The woman opened the door wider to a lushly decorated space.  Some tables were scattered about full of Notre Dame memorabilia. The shop also smelled like freshly made Russian Tea.  A tea with a hint of oranges.  Very rare at this moment in time, at least rare in Paris.  Irti walked over to a little table in the back of the store.

     “Your kind will be here shortly to take you home.”  The woman stated.  This time Irti got a good look at the flamboyantly dressed woman.  The woman wore a purple skirt that fell to the floor.  She had a red patterned scarf tied around her waist.  Her shirt was a simple white peasant blouse that was slightly off the shoulder.  Her peppered black and white hair was tied up under a brown kerchief. 

     “What do you know about my kind?”  Irti asked. 

     “Young woman please sit down.  As you know, my people traveled great distances across Asia and Europe to settle in the large cities.  My people know a great deal about this world and the next.  You are from a place we humans have never seen before.  One group, the Ahriman, meddle in human affairs.  The other group, the Daeva, stays out of human affairs and tries to prevent the Ahriman from interfering.  The two halves of your culture have been at war since before civilization started.”  The older woman ended her commentary.  Irti watched her leave the front of the shop. 

     The older woman came back with a tray filled with two cups, a streaming hot tea pot, with a couple of cucumber sandwiches.    The aroma of the tea assailed Irti’s nostrils.  She started to feel as if she had not drunk anything for days.