Chapter 11: The Curious Case of The Irish Bachelor.

  The first free moment I had after getting home, I blocked Elias on Down Under Connections. By that point, I had it all figured out, or so I thought. My first step, was to find out how to untangle my powers from Elias.

  I know I must sound like an ungrateful bitch, but I needed to find a way to use my powers without thinking about him. I wasn’t doing this because I specifically disliked Elias now: I was doing this because I was scared of what losing him might mean. We were arguably mercenaries now, more or less, and getting back into the action meant a life of danger and risk. I mean, consider this; a couple of inches further, and that spine from Che Saguaro might have killed Elias. Or what if that was Iron Mask who jumped him, and he or she had decided to actually kill Elias at the apartment? What then? I wouldn’t just lose Elias, I could lose my powers, or worse, be forced to tie them eternally to the memory of a dead man. Or, more prosaically, what if Elias wasn’t really changed? What if he was still the same arsehole, deep down, despite everything he told me? But being able to transform while thinking about Emma had taught me that maybe I didn't need to rely on Elias.

  And secretly, I was still processing that he was the one to reawaken my powers. When I was a teenager, I could awaken my powers by thinking of my family, my friends, and Sebastian. Now Elias was the initial trigger, and I did not like the implications that had for our relationship, such as it was. So I figured out that I had to shift my emotional energy somewhere else, somewhere safer and less likely to get hurt. In order to protect the people I loved, I had to find love for myself, on my own terms.

  My parents might have met at work, but my generation’s record with workplace relationships shows they just don’t work. Instead, we’re on the dating apps: the Match Corporation’s basically managed to lock down the entire Western dating experience. And sure, they say that in order to find love, you first have to love yourself, but I had spent over a decade trying to learn how to do that, and it had led to misery and singledom, so dating apps it was.

  First things first, I needed some up-to-date photos of myself. It was a bigger struggle than you think: I didn’t have that many photos of myself after age 18. I hoped my LinkedIn profile picture would be helpful, as well as a screengrab from Emma’s podcast. I must have rewritten my profile about twenty times, trying to ensure I’d snare the right individual. On dating apps, it’s something like 100 men to one woman, statistically speaking. If you’re a woman, the odds are good, but the goods are often very odd indeed. Being the Millennial trash I was, I put down a quote, something about still looking for the Jim to my Pam, and hoped that reference wouldn’t be too dated, before leaving my occupation as an office worker. After creating my profile, it wasn’t long before I started getting messages, most of which reminded me of why I’d left my profile dormant to begin with. I began reporting some of the more egregious offenders: obvious A.I. profiles, nude profile pictures, actual children and scammers. I sighed. The bar was in hell, and getting lower all the time.

  Just when I was considering dropping the whole thing, came a message. I clicked on the message, and it was all over for me. He looked fascinating: long blonde hair, a real hippie Jesus or 70’s metal band kind of look, 3 days’ worth of stubble, sea-green eyes that were just an inch or so too far apart, and pale skin, the type that influencers might spend hours trying to perfect. Mix all that, with broad, masculine shoulders, kind of like Superman, and a white linen suit that screamed money, taste and power, but also free spirited and easy going, a cross between a hot extra from Vikings and a 90’s grunge band. But it was the tagline on the profile that caught me: Celtic bachelor looking for someone who can tame this fierce heart of mine.

  I grinned. He’d come from the Emerald isles, all the way to Port Moonstone. This was going to be fun.

  Look, don’t judge me. Yes, he looked kind of like Jason Momoa with blonde hair, a goatee and softer features, but in my defence, I was desperate and wanted something as different from Elias Beltran as possible, and Irish Fabio here fit the bill exactly.

  I looked at the profile more closely. His name was Manannán, and he said he was from Galway. I should have been wary, but my curiosity got the better of me. How was a guy like this even single, let alone interested in me? My heart was thumping, when I saw the first message.

  You look like someone looking for a genuine connection. Refreshing to see here.

  I smirked. Even after all these years, your girl still had it going on. I fired back.

  Yeah. Just looking for the reason to delete this app, and never come back. Yourself?

  I changed Feather Locklear’s water and let her fly around the room for a bit, when I saw the next message.

  Let’s be each other’s reason, then. I’ve never met somebody who works at a toy company before. I’m not a fan of long online discussions, much rather do this in person. How does discussing this over dinner and drinks at Farrugia’s sound? I’ve got a reservation.

  My eyebrows shot up, and were orbiting somewhere around Neptune. That quickly? I’d only just met the guy online, and already, he was suggesting dinner and drinks? But something about that face, and those eyes, allayed any suspicions I might have had. And besides, apart from the Crystalline Initiative and drinks with Emma, I hadn’t really done anything fun or spontaneous in far too long: too busy with work. I needed a fun distraction, and if this led to a whirlwind romance with Manannán, so much the better. I agreed to the date, and almost immediately realized two glaring problems. The first was how I was going to break the news of the whole Crystal Guardian thing. I was half tempted to show up in my Crystal Guardian form: It would make things a lot easier to explain and would sure make finding something to wear easier, plus I was interested to see what kind of reaction I’d get, now that I was a grown-ass woman instead of a dorky teen. But I dismissed the idea: the Major had wanted to keep me a secret, so here I was.

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  The second was that if I didn’t hurry up, I wouldn’t make the reservation. I shoved Feather Locklear back in her enclosure, showered, perfumed, made up, and grabbed the one date-nighty dress I had in the back of my wardrobe, a classic little black dress and heels: it’s basic, but it’s a classic for a reason, being that it goes with everything. I grabbed my earrings, a pair of amethyst studs, and put them on before I rushed out the door and hailed a taxi to Farrugia’s.

  I stepped inside. Someone had decided to switch to candles for atmosphere, which I didn’t think Farrugia’s had ever done. The next thing I noticed was the smell. Normally, Farrugia’s smells like the the normal smells of Maltese food: rabbit stews, crusty bread and the herbs, good god the herbs. But tonight, there was a different smell, a sea spray. It wasn’t a tropical kind of sea spray, more the cold blast of the North Atlantic. Nevertheless, Manannán was here, wearing that same linen shirt, perusing the menu. He put it down, looked me in the eyes, and it was all over for me.

  We ordered wine, and got to talking. His voice was clear, and slightly higher pitched than I expected. And the Irish accent was not what I was expecting: I was expected something more sing-songy, but it was actually deeper, more masculine. Just a lovely, lilting accent, so different to the typically harsh Australian sound that I normally heard around me.

  “So, tell me, you work for a toy company?”

  “Yeah. We’re a startup, so it’s a little small right now, but it’s fun. Right now, we’re working on a line of toy robots, aimed at younger boys, so that’s been fun to come up with. What do you do for work?” I said, trying not to look overly desperate.

  He told me he was an entrepreneur, but had a side gig doing photography, and showed me some of the photos he’d taken. A lot of it was real estate photography, but there were other, more interesting photos: lots of nature shots, the kind of thing you might see on the cover of National Geographic. The colour, the lighting, everything was so vibrant and lush, so different to Port Moonstone.

  “Holy, shit, these are great shots”.

  He smiled. “The first rule of photography is to select the right subject matter. Lighting, composition, timing, all of these are very important, but without the correct subject, a photograph is doomed before the photo is taken. For me, the same rule applies in love. You can do everything correctly, follow all the rules, but if you choose the wrong person, the relationship is doomed from hello. What about you?”

  I nodded, slowly. “I know exactly what you mean. I guess I just need to know who the right person is.”

  We ordered the meal: Pasta Puttanesca, one of the few Italian dishes on a mostly strictly Maltese menu. I tried to relax, and not show that I was too eager: I didn’t want to chase him away by appearing too desperate. And all the evening, he never took those deep sea green eyes off me.

  The conversation flowed like wine, but I honestly couldn’t tell you half of what we said. We talked about life stuff mainly. Just that combination of those eyes and the accent, all of that led me to feel almost hypnotized by Manannán. He was just so charming, that he could have told me anything, and I would just have gone along with it, just to hear him speaking in that beautiful Irish accent.

  Dinner ended, and he paid, gentleman that he was. Before I left, he took my hand, kissed it, and asked me when I wanted to meet again. I told him sooner, rather than later, and hailed the taxi back to my place, still reeling from that North Atlantic brine smell.

  The minute I got home, I decided to check something. Focusing my mind on Manannán’s face, I tried to transform into the Crystal Guardian Amethyst. No such luck. Maybe I needed to think about him in danger, but try as I might, it couldn’t fuel the transformation. But it was still early days. Maybe I just needed to give it time, nourish it for it to grow. All the fairy tales talk about love at first sight, and I’d thought I had that with Sebastian, but real life doesn’t work like that. I tried thinking of Elias, and the transformation was instant. I sighed. Maybe the transformation wasn’t about love, per se. Maybe there was something else to it, something I didn’t quite understand. There was so much about being a magical girl that I didn’t understand. I’d had 6 years to learn, but I was still as clueless as the day I started. I sighed and lay on my bed, trying to think of why I might have got my powers.

  Sure, I remember getting lost in the bush on the family camping trip, and getting chased by that weird slug monster. Sure, I remember that colourful bird, almost like a cross between an owl, an eagle and a parrot, made of what looked like living crystal. But I don’t remember it’s name, or why it let me have my powers. And I sure as hell don’t know what the hell it wanted with me in the long term.

  I looked at my phone. I considered calling the Major for more information, but would that have helped matters? Maybe the Army would have more insight. But maybe she wouldn’t, and even if she did, I didn’t expect her to share too much: questions of national security and everything. Elias obviously wouldn’t know much more. Nobody knew a damn thing about anything.

  I transformed back into my normal form, got into my pyjamas and checked my phone, to see another message from Manannán, telling me he had a great time, and wanted to see me again. I grinned. Magical girl powers? Check. Not working in the call centre anymore? Check. Ridiculously handsome Irish hottie interested in me? Check. For the first time in a long time, I felt like life was finally going the way it was meant to be going. I texted Manannán back that I felt the same, and wanted to continue to see him, before relaxing on my bed. I hadn’t felt like this since I broke up with Sebastian, and it was a rush like no other.

  My thoughts were interrupted by my phone ringing. I looked at the number curiously. Why the hell was my old work calling me? I picked up. “Look, I’m sorry boss, but I don’t actually work here anymore, what’s going on?”

  “You’re a fraud, Crystal Guardian. You didn’t do shit to me!”

  I looked down at the caller ID. First of all, how did Detritus manage to get a hold of a phone? Second of all, how the hell did he even get this number, and third, how did he manage to spoof my work’s old number?

  “Alright, Detritus, you fucking trash demon, how’d you even get this damn number?”

  “Fuck you! You and that robot monkey tried to kill big homie Saguaro! What did he do to you, huh? He was just trying to re-establish-”

  I hung up on him, but he called back again. “Nuh uh! Guess what, people throw away phones too, motherfucker! So now, you get to hear me at all times, day and night! What’re you gonna do about that, you fraud! I’ll let you in on a little secret: Killing us didn’t do shit! We’re going to come back, bigger and better!”

  I tried to hang up, but the end call button didn’t respond. I heard a cackling sound. “Oh, you thought you could just hang up the phone and be done with me, bitch? Guess what! We can just stop you hanging up now-“

  I removed the sim card from the phone and shoved it in a bin. In retrospect, given Detritus’ powers, a stupid move, but I wasn’t going to pay attention to him anymore. I grit my teeth and made a note to get a new phone with a new number, and port over as much data as I could. So much for a nice evening after an enchanting date, huh?