Little Match Girl: part 1
by Viking

Catherine Larchmont-Price shivered in the cold December air, and pulled her long winter coat tightly around herself. The thinning snowflakes of a light, early snow spiraled in the wind, and caught on her hair and coat.

Catherine regretted, not for the first time, her decision to wear her costume instead of more sensible clothes as she suffered another involuntary shiver. Still, her business today was that of the Alche-Miss, and she wasn't quite comfortable in revealing her secret identity to people outside of Freedom Force. "Though I could probably do with a new costume for the winter," she admitted to herself.

Jealously, she added, "I don't know how that brazen harlot Eve manages this season - her costume doesn't even wilt!" She was sure that boy had just been waiting for fall...

Still, it was some small consolation to remember the look of abject disappointment on El Diablo's face when he first discovered that Eve's costume retained its springtime vitality year-round. She was sure that boy had just been waiting for fall...

Nevertheless, despite common adages, warm thoughts were not particularly helpful in the brisk air, and she hastened her pace. She walked in relative silence, listening to the soft scrunch-scrunch of her footsteps on snow and the whistling of the wind.

Alche-Miss felt a faint flush of relief as she approached her destination - The Amazing Tales Bookstore in the Devil's Kitchen. She resolutely pushed open the door, hoping that the store interior was warmer then it looked.

She was not disappointed. No sooner had she heard the door's jingling bell announce her presence than a welcoming warmth along with the distinctive smell of old, well used books greeted her from within. Offering a silent thanks to the Goddess for such mercies, she entered.

Behind the counter sat a familiar middle-aged man with a receding hairline, and a familiar half smile on his lips. Alche-Miss immediately recognized the store's proprietor, Volker Hilfgaart. He was puffing away on a hand-carved pipe of blackened briar wood as he intently regarded a yellowed piece of paper through his half-rimmed spectacles.

"Reviewing inventory, Mr. Hilfgaart?" Alche-Miss inquired.

Volker looked up with a start, apparently unaware that she had entered. "Oh, my dear Alche-Miss," he noted with relief. "You must forgive me... I was a little self-absorbed with my little project. But please - let me hang up that coat of yours and get you a nice warm drink. I didn't expect many customers on account of the weather today!"

The aging bookkeeper set down his paper and pipe so that he could hang Catherine's high-quality coat next to his tattered trenchcoat behind the counter. Noticing how ill-suited her costume appeared for the winter weather, he remarked, "And I thought that you were brave for facing the Janus demon on Halloween!"

Alche-Miss looked down as her face flushed with embarassment, but paused as she got a better look at Volker's paper. Instead of some series of figures, she looked upon a nearly finished charcoal drawing of an angel, resplendent in armor and wielding a fiery sword. The detail was extraordinary, nearly life like, though Alche-Miss was a little discomforted by the angel's fearsome expression. This wasn't some harp strumming cherub to grace a Christmas tree, this was a holy warrior out for blood. She looked around the bookstore, and realized that Volker had apparently drawn a good number of similar works, as drawings of angels had been hung in the windows and throughout the store. Some bore the beatific and gentle expressions that one might see in any department store representation, but the majority seemed as if they were preparing for battle and devastation.

"Did you draw... all of these?" she asked incredulously.

"I've been keeping busy with them, yes," responded Volker, who was now pouring a rich and sweet-smelling liquid into a china cup. "I just feel that it's never a proper Christmas without angels." He gestured her to one of his comfortable-looking chairs, and soon approached with a cup of what Alche-Miss was certain was nothing less than a genuine hot chocolate.

Catherine took the steaming cup gratefully and took a moment to savor the aroma before gently blowing on it so that it was cool enough to take a sip. Volker retrieved his pipe and drawing and took a seat opposite her. A cloud of fragrant smoke surrounded his head for a moment as he puffed the pipe so the coal glowed red.

"I realize that some of these representations may be a little disconcerting, but I like to strive for realism in my work," he explained, gesturing with the stem of his pipe. "And according to the stories, when the shepherds first saw the angel announcing the birth of Christ, they quaked in fear. With good reason, I might add. I assure you, if you ever saw such a being face to face, you would do much the same."

Alche-Miss sipped her drink and watched Volker in fascination, who was again regarding his latest work with a critical eye. "Well," she ventured, "if your bookstore ever fails, it should at least be comforting to know that you can fall back on being an artist."

She took another drink of hot chocolate. "Either that or you can start a café," she added. "I've never tasted anything like this."

Volker gave a generous smile. "It's kind of you to say so, but this fellow has been giving me a bit of trouble," he murmured. "I can't seem to get the wings quite right..."

He frowned as he realized that his pipe had gone out. After tamping out the ash and refilling the bowl from a tobacco pouch, he pulled a box of old wooden matches from one of his pockets. Volker carefully struck one against the side of the box, relit his pipe, and puffed thoughtfully. Realization dawned on him as he shook the match to extinguish the flame, and he quickly broke off the head of the burnt match and set back to work on his picture.

Using the broken match as a stylus, Volker added fine lines to the angel's feathery wings, and sharpened the flames from its brandished sword. Satisfied with his work, he set the drawing on the nearby table and turned his attention back to Alche-Miss.

"Nevertheless, as glad as I am for your company, I can't quite believe that you came here in this weather just to enjoy my cocoa and drawings," he remarked with a smirk.

Alche-Miss carefully set her cup on the table and folded her hands neatly in her lap. "Yes, Mr. Hilfgaart," she answered. "I remembered that business card you gave me on Halloween, and... well... I thought I could find something more about the Goddess of the East in your bookstore." Alche-Miss was surprised at how quickly she had blurted out her last sentence.

Mr. Hilfgaart smiled amiably as he rose from his seat. "Well then, my dear, I believe I have something that should make you very happy," he said. "It came in stock nearly a month ago, but I kept it off the shelves in the reserved section in the hopes that it might spark your particular interest."

The aging bookkeeper quickly slipped behind his counter and pulled out a magnificent leather-bound tome. Prominently emblazoned on the cover was a gold phoenix that glittered faintly in the light. Volker gently opened the book to the first page, which revealed the image of the Goddess of the East rendered in charcoal, yet strangely free of smudging.

"Incantations of the Ashes," explained Volker. "The phoenix, a bird that dies in flame and is reborn from the ashes, is one of the incarnations of the Goddess, and was much sought after by the alchemists of old. You should find this work most valuable in learning more of the Goddess, and how to call upon her for aid."

Catherine was left momentarily breathless by the beauty of the book, which by appearances looked like it belonged in a museum. "How much is it?" she managed to inquire.

Volker's eyes crinkled as he gave a warm smile. "For you, my dear, no charge. Merry Christmas."

Alche-Miss looked shocked. "But Mr. Hilfgaart, I couldn't possibly accept such a gift..."

The shopkeeper waved dismissively as he gathered some heavy brown paper and string to wrap the book in. "Well then, I'll settle for your word that you'll pay a visit more often. After all, as useful as that book is, it's hardly comprehensive as to the mysteries of the Goddess."

Catherine nodded and watched Volker deftly bind the mystic book. She then regretfully looked out the store's windows. "I'll be happy if it has a spell for keeping warm in the winter," she muttered.

Volker cheerfully handed the bundle to Alche-Miss. "One of the introductory incantations," he noted.

Alche-Miss accepted the gift respectfully. "Thanks, Mr. Hilfgaart... and Merry Christmas to you, too."

"A pleasure doing business with you," Volker answered.

Catherine pulled her coat tightly around herself once more, and left the warmth of the store to brave the elements. The brass bell jangled as the door shut behind her, and Volker Hilfgaart returned to the table where his newest picture lay next to the broken, burnt match he had used to complete it. Volker picked up the charred piece of wood and flicked it toward the empty wastebasket by the counter. As it hit the bottom, it burst into flames once more, and soon was little more than a pile of ashes.

Volker inhaled deeply on his pipe, and then set to finding a place to hang his picture.

Alche-Miss hurried back to her dormitory, wishing that the wind would die down at least slightly. Nevertheless, the harshness of the weather had discouraged other students from milling about outside. It made it easier for her to sneak in as the Alche-Miss unobserved, and it was with great relief that she entered her well-heated room. She shook her head as she looked upon the candles and statue of the Goddess that her roommate, Emily, had left on the central table. Catherine paused, musing over the fact that she had yet to tell Emily of her alter-ego.

Despite the fact that now both she and Emily believed in the power of the Goddess of the East, Alche-Miss still did not feel comfortable with the idea of sharing her secret identity. The fact that Emily was always discreet and scrupulously respected her privacy had made it easier to keep the secret from her all these months. Nevertheless, she couldn't deny the real reason that she had been keeping the truth from her roommate - part of her Southern pride still rankled at the thought of admitting she was wrong to Emily.

Catherine laughed at her self over the absurdity of the idea. When she looked at things that simply, it was obvious that the Goddess would not approve.

"I'll definitely tell Emily today," she thought to herself as she changed into more sensible winter clothing. She looked at her watch and grimaced. "As soon as I get back from class."

Hastily, Catherine hung her costume in her closet, and removed the copy of Incantations of the Ashes from her book bag to make room for her Chemistry textbook.

"Emily has back to back American History and Calculus courses, so I should be back in plenty of time to figure out what to tell her," she thought, leaving the book of incantations face down on her bed. Pulling her coat back on, she slung her bag over her shoulder, braced herself for the trip to class, and resolutely headed out the door.

About ten minutes after the door had closed behind Catherine, it opened once more and her roommate entered.

"Catherine? Are you here?" she called out. "History was cancelled because Mr. Gustafson called in sick."

Emily shrugged when no response was forthcoming. She took off a plain brown coat, damp with melting snowflakes, and hung it next to the door. She paused, thoughtfully, as she regarded the low table with the candles arranged around the statue of the Goddess of the East.

Normally, Emily's daily routine involved meditating before the statue of the Goddess after classes, much to the annoyance of her roommate, Catherine. Still, she noted, Catherine's complaints had all but silenced in the past months, and even the occasional gripe seemed half-hearted. Indeed, in the recent months, the pair had become a great deal more cordial towards one another.

Emily smiled to herself. "I think the Goddess will forgive me if I perform my meditations early today," she thought. "Catherine's been so nice lately, and I'm sure she'd appreciate not having to walk in on one of my sessions."

With a nod, Emily entered the shared bedroom to retrieve some matches with which to light the candles. As she paused by her dresser, however, she did a double-take and looked towards Catherine's closet.

The door was slightly ajar.

While Emily could not recall Catherine having ever left her closet door open before, this was not the cause of her surprise. Rather, it was the suspiciously familiar glimpse of pink that she saw from within.

Hesitantly, she crept towards the closet, surprised at her own actions. She had never dreamed of looking through Catherine's personal belongings, though she had never felt such a temptation before. "I'll just close the door, that's what I'll do," she said to herself.

Her hand trembled over the doorknob, and then threw the door wide.

Emily wasn't sure what had shocked her more - the fact that she was acting this way, or the sight that greeted her eyes. The pink and dark blue costume hanging from the hook was unmistakably that of the Alche-Miss. And while most of Patriot City remained ignorant of the source of her powers, Emily had been instantly convinced that Alche-Miss was a servant of the Goddess.

"But Catherine?" she asked in disbelief. "That just can't be right... she just thinks the Goddess is so much nonsense - may the Goddess forgive her. This must just be some costume she plans to wear as a joke to one of those parties she's always attending."

Satisfied with her own explanation, Emily closed the closet door firmly. Her resolve began to crumble, however, when she saw the old leather-bound tome on Catherine's bed. Though she told herself that it was nothing, it seemed to beckon to her. As if hypnotized, she turned the book over, and gasped softly as she saw the gold phoenix etched on the cover.

As both a worshiper and a scholar of the Goddess, Emily understood the significance of the phoenix as an incarnation of the Goddess. In wonder, she opened the cover and looked upon the writings within.

In her amazement, prayers to the Goddess were lost on her lips. For one who had only found the most basic rites of worship and meditation, the contents of the book flooded her mind with possibilities and questions. This was a trove of wisdom.

"Just what can the Alche-Miss do as an extension of the Goddess?"

"Why didn't she tell me?"

"Why was Catherine chosen?"

"Why wasn't I?"

The last thought, darkly disturbing, jolted her from her reverie. Sweat born of nervousness beaded upon her brow. Stunned by her actions, she slammed the book shut, vowing to return instantly to her meditations. With a mounting horror, however, she realized that a single page seemed to have broken free of the binding and was now protruding from the book of incantations.

Cringing with fear, Emily gingerly opened the tome to see what damage she had done. The errant page slipped free and fell to the floor. Emily hastily grabbed for it and regarded it with dread.

No words that she could make out were on the page. Instead, a charcoal drawing of a single eye, ringed with arcane symbols, glared back at her.

Emily was paralyzed as she looked upon the eye, which seemed to glow red as a whispery voice echoed in her head.

"The Goddess did not choose you because she felt you were weak and unworthy," it insinuated.

"No!" cried out Emily. "The Goddess is wise and benevolent! The Goddess is..."

"Secretive. Powerful. Only doling out mere traces of her power and wisdom to those that she capriciously chooses."

"You... you're lying!" stammered Emily. "The wise Goddess of the East helps me to see the light..."

"It is you who are lying to yourself," answered the voice. "For all of your years of prayers, you have never heard a word of guidance from the Goddess. Yet this young upstart mocks your faith and is chosen as its champion."

Emily had no retort, but stood in silence. "Who are you?" she finally asked quietly.

"I am that which the Goddess does not name, even to her most faithful. I am the source of knowledge for all who would seek it. When the first of humanity sought to gain wisdom beyond that which had been granted it, I was there to provide it. Do you seek to follow a silent Goddess that scorns you, or do you seek enlightenment?"

"I... seek enlightenment," answered Emily, surprising herself as she spoke.

"Then it is yours."

Emily realized suddenly that the page in her hands was burning. The flames spread up her arms yet caused no injury, as the page crumbled to ashes in her hands. Soon her entire body was sheathed in flames, and her vision blurred momentarily.

Emily blinked and looked at the bed where Incantations of the Ashes had lain. Through a red haze, she now saw the statue of the Goddess hovering over a sleeping Catherine. A strange and otherworldly voice echoed quietly in the room.

"My spirit is entering yours, foolish girl. Like an alchemist converts base metals into gold, you will use my powers to convert wrong into right."

As the vision faded, Emily seethed with an unnatural jealous rage. "She will convert wrong into right? When she's never read a book about the Goddess? She's never done so much as light a candle in reverence to her! She doesn't deserve any of this!"

Emily stormed back into the common room, the flames around her slowly licking at the floor as she did so. Looking upon the statue of the Goddess with contempt, she stretched forth her hand and a concentrated gout of flame consumed the carved wooden statue. For several seconds, the wood stubbornly refused to burn, but before long it succumbed to the unnatural heat and collapsed in a charred heap.

Never before had Emily felt such a rush of elation. She turned towards the window and rested her palms against the glass, which glowed and melted at her touch. Leaning out into the frigid winter weather, she noted with delight that she didn't even feel a trace of cold. As if by instinct, she rose into the air and out of the window.

Emily's mind was awhirl with new thoughts. Just as the whispery voice had promised, revelations to countless secrets and mysteries flooded her brain as speeds too fast for her to comprehend.

"You may find the answers to any questions you wish," the voice reminded her. "You have only to ask..."

The voice served as a source of focus for Emily, and she realized that with time she would make more sense of the infinite knowledge that it promised. She flew into the sky, trailing flames as she left the university campus, heedless of the burning room that she had left behind.

Back in the Amazing Tales bookstore, Volker Hilfgaart sat by himself in one of his padded chairs, enjoying his pipe. He patiently regarded the pictures he had hung meticulously throughout his shop, taking time only to blow the occasional smoke ring.

A slight rustling sound broke the silence. Soft at first, it grew louder and louder as Volker's pictures began pulling against the tacks that held them in place. As one, they ripped free and began whipping about the room in a chaotic whirlwind. Volker sat in the center of the miniature twister, unfazed.

The tempest continued for a minute or so before abating. Most of the pictures now lay scattered in the corners of the store, but a single drawing floated lazily towards Volker, which he casually plucked from the air.

His eyebrows raised as he looked once again upon the stern visage of the angel whose wings he had just finished drawing earlier that afternoon. He grunted softly as he stood from his chair and scratched at his temples. Volker walked to the window of his store and peered outside, looking at nothing in particular.

"Well, Little Match Girl," he murmured. "It seems that an angel is coming for you. Only this angel isn't coming to take you to a world where there is neither hunger, cold, nor pain."

To Be Continued...