by Cate Farren
“Clover is with him all alone...”
SASKIA PULLED AWAY from the door. She felt conflicted. On the one hand her friend was here. On the other she was insane, talking to her dead boyfriend.
She found Loki in her bedroom, staring at titles on her bookcase. He always did that. He never read anything, just stared at the spines. Perhaps he found her collection of romance novels distasteful? Maybe was a secret romantic at heart?
"She's talking to herself," said Saskia.
"I did spring her from a mental asylum," Loki reminded her.
Saskia sat on the edge of her bed. She could smell the shapeshifters from all the way up here. She hadn't noticed it at first, but they all had a sort of wet clay smell to them. It permeated the entire valley. She hadn't wanted to mention it in case Loki threw her out. He was all she had now.
"I...I didn't think she was that bad," Saskia admitted. "I thought she was just...sad, I suppose. This is way different to what happened after Frankie died. Please tell me what happened to her.”
Damn it! I don't care! I really don't care!
But Saskia did care, and she hated herself for it.
"Her mother killed Jared, and she killed her mother," said Loki.
Saskia gasped. "That's...twisted, even for her. I feel a little sorry for her."
"You're her best friend. I thought you'd be more concerned."
"I'm trying. I'm really trying to be her friend. It's just..."
"She betrayed you."
"I thought I'd worked past it, but when I saw her again it brought it all back. I wanted to punch her. I wanted to claw her eyes out."
"You're a witch. Physical violence is beyond you."
It had been two years (only a year had passed in her home dimension; two days counted as one day back home) since her grandmother had started teaching her magic. It was slow going. Romily wasn't a patient teacher, and Saskia wasn't a patient student. They were too alike, and ended up constantly arguing and sniping at each other over every little thing. Saskia wanted to learn everything right now, right away, and it was impossible. It frustrated her. She was currently learning spells that five-year-old witches would be taught. It was embarrassing.
But I can do magic now, which is the main thing.
"How are the lessons going?" he asked.
"Slow," Saskia complained, "Very slow."
"You're a babe, learning to walk for the first time," Loki explained. She didn’t like being called a babe, especially by him. "The power will come."
He picked a book from the shelf and opened it to the first page. He sighed and put it back. He turned to her, a disappointed look on his face. He seemed eternally bored. She wasn’t sure why. He had so many shapeshifters to play with.
"But why?" she asked, facing him. "I'm supposed to have magical dyslexia. Why have I magic now? Nobody seems to want to talk about it."
She hadn’t wanted to ask for fear of receiving an answer she didn’t like. Now she felt more confident she felt she deserved to know. It was her life after all.
He smirked. "I could tell you the truth but you might be a little...disgusted."
"I snapped every bone in mother's body. I'm beyond being disgusted now."
Saskia smirked a little at the memory. It felt so good to cause her mother such pain. That woman had done nothing but cause her family misery since day one.
Loki hesitated and said, "After we made love I left a tiny piece of myself inside you."
"Do we really need to go into the specifics?" she asked.
Loki had shifted into the object of her unrequited love, Adrian, and seduced her. It had been everything she'd wanted and more. She'd known it wasn't really Adrian but went with it and she'd had the time of her life. Even now the thought of what Adrian, or Loki, did to her made her feel horny.
"I'm not talking about semen," said Loki. He pulled a face, as if talking about bodily fluids made him feel ill. "A microscopic part of myself entered you and fixed itself to your brain, changing the pathways, moving things around, curing you of your magical dyslexia. It sounds a tad gross, I know, but it was a beautiful thing, much like our lovemaking."
"It still sounds like you put magical sperm in my brain."
"Does it really matter how you got your magic back?"
Magic turns everyone I care about into psychotic killers. Will I turn out like that? Is it in my genes?
She shook her head. "Sometimes I'm not sure I actually want magic. Sometimes, anyway."
What would have happened if she didn’t have magic? Would Loki have thrown her out years ago? Would her grandmother even care whether she lived or died?
"How can you not want power?" he demanded. He was angry now. "I gave you that power and..."
"Look what it did to my mother and grandmother. They're both evil, twisted bitches who'd kill anything and hurt anyone to get what they want. I don't want to be like that!"
"Not all witches are like that."
She knew he was right. She had relatives and friends who she now knew were witches and were perfectly normal, albeit kooky, people. She could be like them. She didn't have to take after her mother. She didn't have to let everything that happened to her turn her into a bitter, twisted monster.
"And who do I have to teach me but my wicked witch of a grandmother?" she asked him. "Nobody. My mother is a twisted wreck whose bones haven't healed properly. All she does is lie in bed and cry in pain all day."
Saskia couldn't help but laugh. The once mighty Rose, shivering in her own filth, in pain every time she swallowed a piece of bread, her teeth black and rotting, her bones in constant pain. If anyone deserved such a life it was her. Romily had drained the life force from humans to heal her mother, but something was wrong. Rose couldn't heal properly and nobody knew why.
"Your grandmother can teach you so much," Loki told her. "She may be evil, but she's a powerful witch. You'll learn a lot from her and you’ll thank her for it. Or she’ll kill you. I’m not quite sure what goes on in that nefarious brain of hers."
She nodded, accepting his words. She wanted to learn everything there was to know about magic desperately; every spell, every potion. She wanted to be useful, not just to Loki but to herself. She was a witch now. A witch could do anything they wanted.
“I’ve put up with Gran for years,” Saskia lamented. “I suppose I can last a bit more.”
Loki smiled. “Be brave, Saskia.”
THE DOOR OPENED. IT was Saskia.
"You don't have to stop talking to him," said Saskia.
"He's not really here," said Clover. "He's dead. I'm absolutely insane." She seemed worried for a moment before asking, “Am I frothing at the mouth?”
"You’re not frothing at the mouth; and if it makes you feel better then I'm not sure what the harm is. I talk to Frankie all the time."
"Then we're both insane."
Even after Jared's form had vanished she'd found herself talking to him. Who did she have to confide in? Who could she vent her frustrations out on? She wasn't sure what to make of Loki yet. He acted caring and paternal with her, and it seemed genuine, but she couldn't reconcile that fact with his plans of supernatural genocide. How could someone that loved so deeply have such dark, malevolent plans?
The people he murdered in the Hell dimension would never call him loving.
"What are you doing here?" Saskia asked. She was staring around the room. Her eyes stopped on a photo of a grinning Frankie, dressed up as Wonder Woman for Halloween. She smiled sadly and looked away. "You know who Loki is right?"
"I know who he is," Clover told her. "At the moment he's all I've got."
"What about your father, and Adrian?"
"I can't go back to Chapel Green."
The truth of her own words suddenly dawned on her. She could never go back home. They'd think she'd gone over to the dark side and distrust her, or lock her up again. The council might even execute her for killing her mother and rocking the peace of the town.
I can't ever go home.
Saskia said, "I don't want to sound callous but maybe your mother deserved it."
"She did," Clover stated. "If there's one thing I'm certain of it's that."
"Right..."
Clover laughed. "I just wish I could've made her suffer more for what she took from me. That woman took away my life, my future, my happiness."
And my sanity.
"I know what it's like to have a psychotic mother," said Saskia.
"Are you going to kill yours?" Clover asked.
"I...I almost did."
Saskia sat on the edge of the bed. "I got so angry with her because of all the things she'd done and...and I used magic to break every bone in her body."
"I thought you didn't have magic?"
Saskia bit her lip, looking uncertain. "I do now, and it scares me. It thrills me too, but mostly...I'm terrified."
"Me too."
"I wish we were back in Chapel Green, ignorant of any of this."
"I want normal."
"Normal would be so good right now."
Clover smiled. "I've missed you."
They didn't hug, but Clover felt the tension between them thaw just a little. It was enough for now.
Chapter 18
"Why did you frame Sutton?"
"Loki is my god."
"That family was innocent and you butchered them."
"They're human. They're beneath me."
Toren grinned and twisted the knife deeper into his stomach. The blade was serrated for his torment. He squirmed in agony and she grinned, enjoying the torture more than she realized. She'd missed this, this feeling of total power.
"Are you in pain?" Toren demanded.
Blood dripped down his face, over his lips.
"No," he answered.
"Then I must not be doing it right."
She thrust one of her fingers into one of the bullet holes in his skin. She poked around, feeling his blood and flesh caress her. He squirmed, but it wasn't enough. He had to suffer more.
Toren whispered a spell. Tendrils of electricity surged through her body and into the shapeshifter. He convulsed in agony, his spasms causing the knife in him to cut him further. She grinned.
"Where is Loki?" she demanded again. Her hands were stained with his blood. “Where is Loki?”
"Loki is my god!"
She electrocuted him again and again for over an hour. His screams were starting to annoy her, but she couldn't cover his mouth. He might talk.
“Stop!” Ziibi ordered.
Toren wiped at her face. “What do you want?”
Ziibi walked down the basement steps. He stopped when he saw the state his son was in. Toren feared she was about to lose their only lead to Loki.
“This has gone on long enough,” said Ziibi. He tried to approach his son but Toren barred his way. “He’s not going to tell you anything.”
She sighed, bored. "Then why am I even bothering?"
“You were about to kill him! That was not the deal.”
Maybe it was a mistake bringing Ziibi in. Unlike the other shapeshifters she’d brought into the fold he didn’t want to get his hands dirty. He might become a problem. Besides, they’d found Ziibi’s child too easily in Little Chipping. Was this another trap?
“So what do we do with him then?” Toren asked. “Do we let him go, so he can tell Loki where we are and bring the enemy back to finish off those of us he didn’t kill last time?”
Anton’s soul...
I took Anton’s soul...
Ziibi shook his head. “Just leave him locked up for now. Let me talk to him. He will listen to me.”
“You’ve got no chance.”
“At least let me try.”
Toren nodded, agreeing for now. As much as she would love to gut this shapeshifter she was getting hungry. She hadn’t eaten all day, and all the dried up blood was making her skin sticky and her clothes stink.
She left him to it, locking the door behind her with a spell so neither could escape. She didn’t trust Ziibi not to rescue his son.
I did almost dice him up.
After having a cheese salad and a cold shower, Toren was feeling refreshed. She couldn’t wait to get stuck in torturing her prisoner again. She knew without a doubt that Ziibi would’ve gotten nowhere with his son. Fanatics like that couldn’t be reasoned with, even if they did run a post office in a tiny English town with a quaint name like Little Chipping.
“All going well?” Wynn asked.
Wynn was sitting in the living room drinking coffee. He looked so relaxed it sickened her. How could he be so carefree at a time like this?
No, I’m wrong. Wynn looks worried. He looks really worried.
“Not as well as I’d hoped,” Toren admitted. “Ziibi is trying to reason with his son at the moment.”
Wynn sighed. “Fat lot of good that will do.”
The Fey princess ignored him and unlocked the basement door. It was time to see what progress Ziibi had made.
Ziibi was dead on the floor.
“What the...”
Her shapeshifter companion’s son was still magically tied to his chair. The knife was still sticking out of his flesh. How had he killed him? It wasn’t possible.
“What did you do?” Toren demanded.
The shapeshifter smirked and said, “My father would rather kill himself than hurt his son.”
Toren shook her head, disbelieving. “Ziibi would never do that.”
She knelt down and checked Ziibi’s body. He had no pulse and there was no sign of any physical trauma. It was like he just dropped dead for no reason. Could shapeshifters do that? Could they just will themselves to die? It was a disturbing ability, though it didn’t make any sense, otherwise her prisoner would’ve just killed themselves ages ago.
Ziibi gasped and sat up. “What’s going on?”
Toren laughed, astonished. “I thought you were dead!”
Ziibi glared angrily towards his son as he said, “He tried to force me to enter the shared mind of the shapeshifters. I wasn’t expecting it, and I...blacked out I suppose you could call it. It wasn’t pleasant.” He shook his head, as if clearing the fog in his brain. “Do what you will, Fey. This thing is not my child. He will not tell you a thing.”
He turned away from them and walked back up the basement steps. Toren stared down at her smug prisoner, trying to think of an entertaining and painful way for him to die. She had plenty of choices. The Black Fey was nothing if not inventive.
She smiled as the perfect idea came to her.
“Witches and magic users can change their shape too,” Toren revealed, walking around her prisoner. He was nervous now. She liked that. “It’s complicated and painful, but they can do it. I prefer doing it another way. Why cause yourself pain when you can just alter somebody else’s mind to make them think something is real?”
Toren grabbed hold of the prisoner’s head. She dug her fingernails into his flesh, pushing her magic into his mind. He screamed and struggled and still she caused him so much pain she thought he might die. Yet he persevered, and she continued with her assault, lapping up his screams. The spell she was incanting didn’t have to be so painful. It didn’t have to be painful at all. She just preferred it this way.
Yes, it’s finished.
She pulled away, feeling the spell taking affect. The horrified look on her prisoner’s face told her she’d succeeded.
“Loki?” the prisoner whispered. He shook his head. “No. You are not him.”
“But I am him,” Toren stated. She even had Loki’s voice down. “And the last thing you see before you eventually die is your lord, your creator, slicing apart your very soul. Buckle up, shapeshifter – this is going to hurt.”
TOREN CLOSED THE DOOR to the basement. Shapeshifters stank when they died, sort of like a mixture of shit, rotten earth, and cabbage. Did Loki engineer them that way, just to torment anyone who killed any of his kind?
Wynn was waiting for her at the kitchen table. He didn’t look
pleased.
"Was that necessary?" he asked.
"Probably not,” she answered. She sat at the table and poured herself a glass of water. Torture made you thirsty. “But he had to die. We couldn’t keep him locked up forever. I’m not a prison guard.”
Something was nagging at her. This seemed too easy. Despite Caleb being taken by the Fey, and the Eiffel Tower incident, she’d more or less completed her mission. She’d either killed or recruited the remaining shapeshifters. So why did she feel so uneasy? Her mission was over. She could take it easy now.
Wynn sighed. "You're scaring me."
"Am I?” She smiled. “Good."
It wasn’t over. She’d shown Wynn her dark side and he was appalled. She knew she shouldn’t care. The mission was more important than her love life. But she did care, despite the part of her that wanted to punch Wynn for being so weak.
“I have no choice here," she stated.
"You do have a choice,” said Wynn. “You didn't need to torture him like that."
"You think you could do better?"
"I think I made a mistake joining forces with you."
He stormed out, heading into the back garden. Toren considered following him but she didn’t want to appear to be in the wrong. He was wrong. How were they supposed to get information from a terrorist shapeshifter? Did he expect her to give him candy hearts or nice words? Wynn didn’t understand. He could never understand what it took to do what she did. He was weak.
She heard Ziibi approach.
“Why are you so antagonistic?” he asked.
“Fuck off,” she spat. “This is not your concern.”
“You killed my child. You made it my concern.”
“You told me to kill him! You told he was nothing to you!”
Ziibi looked away, as if her mere presence disgusted him.
She shook her head, ignoring him. “My gut is telling me something is wrong...and I never ignore my gut. There’s another shapeshifter out there. I can feel it.”
Had she met the shapeshifter somewhere and not known? Had her senses warned her but she’d been too engrossed in something else to notice?
Why is the truth evading me this way?