Okay, Sleipnir and Bask had glimpsed some of the truth because of the Blood Amulet, but the secrets of their own dark pasts blasted through me in angsty rock, and they didn’t pry. A guy appreciated that. But Magenta was my first kiss; she was the woman who’d brought me to life. She also didn’t act like it but she was a witch. Would she truly want me when she saw that I was the monster of the House of Jewels?
“Shall we?” Damelza said like she was inviting me to a dance, rather than the violation of my mind. “I’ve never explored a mage’s head before, so I’m hoping for the best but expecting the depraved worst.”
All of a sudden, Louis Armstrong’s gravelly voice boomed through the theater backed by the joyful flute and trumpet of “It’s a Wonderful World.”
My eyes widened. Damelza couldn’t have picked this on purpose, right? She had a sick sense of humor because it drove me back to a spring day that I was desperate not to remember, when I’d lost all hope that I’d ever be rescued from the attic.
Damelza gripped my shoulders, spinning me to face the back wall of the theater. A kaleidoscope of images was projected onto it. They flashed like a thousand home movies that’d been ripped apart and then jaggedly sewn together from fae, vampires, and gods.
Paws save me, they must be the memories of every student who’d faced this trial.
That was it, stop this ride, I wanted to get off, and probably hurl as well. It turned out that I hated the fair.
My stomach roiled. I clutched my sweating palms tightly under my armpits. I recoiled, but Damelza held me in place.
No escape, no escape, no…
The jazz played on loop. There was no way out. There never had been. From the moment that I’d been locked away in the warded attic because my magic had come in, I’d been trapped forever.
If we lost the Rebel Cup, I’d die because of it.
Because mages were monsters.
My breath became ragged, and the images spun faster and faster.
I couldn’t go back to the attic…
In my terror, I transformed into a Birman cat. I tumbled out of Magenta’s hold onto the floor with a pained yowl. My creamy fur fluffed up and my long, crooked tail whipped back and forth in distress. A collective aww of cooing burst from the audience, but I was lost in my fear. I darted to the corner, cowering.
The music was even louder to my sensitive ears, and the sage burned my nose. I stared up at the giant witch who stalked towards me, before hissing. When her hand lowered towards me, and she clucked impatiently, my fur bristled.
Where was the treat, feathery plaything, or stroke? My furry ass was on strike, and this witch didn’t even have any feline offering for me.
Damelza’s eyes narrowed. “Bad kitty.”
Oh, it was time to introduce her to Master Claws. I swiped at her, but she rolled her eyes, grabbing me by the scruff of the neck and swinging me towards the back wall.
“Unhand the cat,” Magenta demanded.
“If you say so.” Damelza hurled me at the wall.
My little legs kicked, and my ears flattened against my head.
Meoowww…
I landed on my human ass on the hard floor of the attic. My attic, which I’d been trapped in for a decade.
Don’t freak out, poop, wet your pants, breathe, breathe, breathe…
I shook, counting down from a hundred backwards in my head to control my shock and despair. I knew that I wasn’t truly back here, but it was so real. It wasn’t like a memory; it was my truth.
I was living it again, and it turned my stomach.
I’d transformed back into a teenager, and I carded my fingers through my unruly hair, glancing down at the plain jeans and t-shirt. They were worn because I’d only had two sets of clothes. Dad had worked hard to even get those for me, and I’d been so grateful.
I was grateful.
My mind became hazy, until I truly was my teenage self again.
Aquilo would be visiting at the weekend, and I smiled happily at the thought. I loved Aquilo like a brother. Would he find my new comedy routine funny? He needed to laugh more.
I cocked my head, as the sound of jazz wound from the garden below. Louis Armstrong’s “It’s a Wonderful World” lit up the dusty attic like life after a long winter. Why was someone playing music in the garden? Then I heard laughter. I leaned forward at the siren call, as for the first time in years, hope blossomed through me.
I crawled across the attic, pushing myself over my mattress and my favorite book that I always slept with because it was the first thing that dad had given to me in my captivity, and onto the window seat beneath the tiny window that looked out at the garden. No one came to this corner of the garden apart from Hartley anymore. I’d decided that it had to be mum’s order to isolate me.
I covered my mouth with my hand like if I even breathed too loudly then I’d ruin something so bright in the dreariness of my life. My kitteny side purred, desperate to burst out, but I held onto my human side, aching desperately to see who was below me and so close.
I peeked through the window, careful not to be seen. Once, when I’d only just been locked up, a servant had caught sight of my curly hair, as I’d been looking out at the birds. When she’d reported it to mum, it’d taken dad’s pleading to reduce the punishment to a whipping and not the boarding up of the window.
I’d have gone crazy without being able to see the sky. Dad had made me swear never to let myself be seen again. I’d been able to lie to everybody but never to dad.
Yet when I saw Hartley beneath the blossoms surrounded by presents and her friends, as music played and Glow acted the butler, all I craved was to smash the glass and call out to her.
Happy Birthday would do it. I might be a monster but I hadn’t forgotten my manners.
It was a shock to remember that other people still celebrated their birthdays, and it made my chest ache that Hartley had continued to celebrate hers. Deep inside, I’d guessed that my becoming a mage and shaming my family hadn’t changed anything for Hartley, but seeing it was a different ball of prickles…one that hurt.
BM — before magic — Hartley had insisted that I come to all of her parties, even though mum had said that she was spoiling me. Hartley would simply clasp my hand and yank me along like a doll. She’d rarely let me out of her sight.
AM — Hartley hadn’t visited me in the attic once. I’d thought that she’d miss me as much as I missed her. My bones ached like I’d lost a limb as much as a sister.
She must lie to herself, as much as I did.
Yet now she was in my corner of the garden (yeah, I’d claimed it as my territory, although dad hadn’t been pleased with that explanation for why I’d sprayed in cat form all over the windows). Until now, I’d only ever seen her jogging each evening around the formal gardens in the distance.
Finally, I wasn’t alone. Maybe somebody would save me now?
I blinked, shuddering. Why did that feel so familiar?
When I studied the gang of girls in glittering party dresses around Hartley, I gasped.
Mesilande held Hartley’s hand, just like Hartley had once held mine. Her red hair was caught up in silver clasps, and her dress sparkled like she’d stepped out of a fairy tale. How many times had I wanked over fantasies of her as my princess sweeping into the attic to rescue me?
Okay, a lot.
Mesilande was older than Hartley and me. She was from an ancient and powerful French coven. When I’d been young, she’d visited and stayed with us for an entire summer, and I’d developed my first ever crush. She hadn’t noticed.