Victoria Marmot- The Complete Series

by Virginia McClain

  “Group hug,” I said loudly, trying to get everyone within my embrace.

  Seamus and Sol both stepped in, and Trev didn’t move.

  “Probably best if I stay behind,” Azrael said, handing Trev to Sol. “I’m resistant to most mage spells. I don’t want to mess with whatever you use for transportation.”

  I nodded, unsure if Azrael was right about possibly messing with my magic, but unwilling to test it when it came down to getting Trev medical assistance.

  With Trev in Sol’s arms and my hands on both Trev and Sol, I took a deep breath, and instead of focusing on a place, I reached for the one person I desperately hoped could help my brother.

  “UGH. OF COURSE I wouldn’t get to keep an encyclopedia’s worth of information about our parents’ lives. That would have been entirely too easy, not to mention too big an info dump,” I muttered, flipping distractedly through the pages of the one journal that I had managed to hold onto from my parents’ bedroom (thanks to Seamus, who had picked the damned thing up after I dropped it to run to Trev’s side back in Colorado). Seamus had handed it to me right after we’d settled ourselves on the floor of Rhelia’s Unterberg base of operations. Apparently, she had more than one place to call home in the world.

  I was lying on a futon like the ones my parents had brought back from their time in Japan—the ones that are nothing like the thick mattress things you can buy at Ikea (did they even have Ikea in a place like Unterberg?) but more like deluxe sleeping pads, way better than anything you’d take camping, and great once you get used to them, but probably well below what most North Americans would consider comfortable. Sol, Seamus, and Trev were all lying on similar mattresses spread out on the floor around me, and the whole place made me think that Rhelia had probably read Shogun more than once. There were katana mounted on the wall, and the floor was covered in actual tatami mats. I was going to have to ask her about the decor once she finally got back from wherever she’d been rushing off to when we’d first arrived. She’d barely taken thirty seconds to assess Trevor and show us where we could put him, then she’d been running out the door.

  “What?” Trev asked, from his futon on the floor.

  “Nothing,” I said, snapping back to the present. “Just that, since my life has apparently turned into some kind of adventure tale, it’s no wonder I wouldn’t be able hold onto all those journals that Mom wrote. I mean, hell, they probably answered every question I’ve had about Mom and Dad, since they disappeared and I found out that they were deep into a magic world I never knew existed.”

  “What do you mean, info dump? Vic, what the hell are you talking about? Your life is an adventure story?” Trev sounded mildly worried.

  “You remember Gwen, yes?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Well, whatever kind of deity of good fortune she claims to be, when I first met her, she said she was my narrator.”

  “Your narrator?” That was Sol, apparently joining in the incredulity party. Not that I blamed her.

  “Yeah.” I snorted. “She showed up naked in the woods loudly describing everything I was doing.”

  “And you didn’t run the other way?” Seamus asked.

  I shrugged.

  “She was ruining my weekend getaway, so I decided to talk her into leaving instead.”

  “Did it work?” Sol asked.

  “Not really,” I admitted. “She left eventually, but only after I insisted that I would take over my own narration.”

  “First person?” Sol asked. “Yuck.”

  “Why do people say that?” I asked. “What the fuck is wrong with first person narration? It’s gripping and immediate.”

  “It’s so… angsty,” Sol accused.

  “Yeah, well, you and the old goddess can go take a long walk off of the same short pier. I like first person narration. Besides, you would have said whatever was necessary to get rid of the creepy, seemingly insane woman who showed up and claimed to be your narrator, too.”

  Sol’s eyebrows rose provocatively.

  “Gwen? Naked? I doubt I would have been in a hurry to get away.”

  That had me laughing.

  “Yeah, well, you were the first woman I ever found attractive, so… I wasn’t as impressed.”

  “Well, I like first person narration too,” Seamus said. “So, what’s the deal? Why do you have a narrator?”

  “I don’t know, really. Gwen never explained. She just made it sound like ‘they’ were listening/or reading or whatever, and wouldn’t know what was going on if there was no narrator. So I said I would do it, if it would stop her from standing around announcing every single thing I was doing and describing me like food.”

  “Ugh, I hate that,” Seamus said. “I am not a fucking coffee with a touch of milk.”

  Sol laughed. “I actually enjoy being compared to chocolate, myself.”

  We all chuckled.

  “You are, of course, welcome to describe yourself as all the delicious desserts you like,” I said. “But I’m not about to describe you as one.”

  “Well, I think you’re a mocha, anyway,” Sol said, playfully running a hand along my arm.

  I batted her away.

  “It’s not nearly as obnoxious when you do it, but anyway—”

  “Yeah, I want to hear about why you’re in a book,” Trev interrupted.

  “I don’t know. And I’m not even sure it’s a book. I mean, I honestly thought that Gwen was just nuts when she said all that, but… well, she actually does seem to be a goddess and stuff, so…”

  “So, it’s possible that you’re in a book?” Sol asked, still sounding incredulous, but not quite as dismissive as she had a minute ago.

  “I suppose? I mean, the day Gwen showed up was the day that everything started to turn completely weird.”

  “But if you’re in a book, then that means we all are!” said Seamus excitedly. “At least, we are when we’re with you.”

  I laughed again.

  “I suppose so…”

  “So, you’re saying that all of those journals were burned to ash because it would be too easy for the plot if you found everything out from a set of books?” Trev asked, finally returning us to my original point.

  “Well, I hope that’s not the only reason. That would be lazy writing, and if I’m in a book I’d like to hope it’s not one that’s poorly written. But yeah, imagine reading a book that’s full of fight scenes and chase scenes and stuff and then finding out most of the major plot twists because the character sat down to read something that spelled everything out.”

  “Ok. Blargh. Yeah, you make a good point,” Sol admitted. “Still, if the book is written in the first person, it’s entirely possible that’s not very well writ—”

  “Hey! Don’t you start. First person narrative is a completely viable point of view and can be used to great effect. Fuck right off with your implication that it’s a cop-out.”

  Sol raised both hands in a pacifying gesture.

  “Please don’t kill me, Gatita. I forgot that you read as much as I do, just in some different genres. Look, so if the writing isn’t lazy, then we’re still stuck with the fact that someone burned your old house down on purpose, most likely to stop you from reading those journals. We need to know who, and why.”

  “I may be able to help with that,” said a voice from the doorway.

  We all turned and looked at the same time, to find Rhelia standing on the threshold, holding what looked like a flash drive, along with my backpack.

  “YOU KNOW WHO burned my house down?” I asked, before my brain fully caught up with what I’d just heard.

  “Not exssssactly, no,” Rhelia said, coming in and sitting down beside where Trev was lying. “But, between your file,” she elaborated, handing me my backpack, “and what I have on thissss flash drive, we might be able to figure it out.”

  “Isn’t the safe assumption at this point that it was MOME?” Seamus asked, as I began to pull my parents’ file from my backpack.

 
I nodded.

  “Sure, that’s the easy bet. But if they knew about those journals, why leave that house standing for all that time?”

  “Umm… to lure you in and try to kill you, for, like, the hundredth time in the past month or so?” Seamus stated, so matter-of-factly that I had to stare at him for a moment.

  “Fair point. Well made,” I admitted. “Still, it was a bit roundabout for MOME, don’t you think? I mean, they haven’t hesitated with the direct approach before.”

  “Yeah, but you just won your trial, and now if they just straight-up kill you, they will look really bad, even to their supporters.”

  Seamus was just full of good points tonight.

  “I’m still fuzzy on why they care about their public appearance anyway. I mean, since when do dictatorships, or corrupt oligarchies, or whatever, care about public opinion?”

  “Historically? Pretty much always,” Trev replied. “It’s how they keep uprisings down. They need to maintain at least a vague semblance of justice, or else the masses organize and then they’re finally shit out of luck. And, if they don’t look legit enough to keep the people they hire to dole out their ‘justice’ in line, then they lose all their power.”

  “What would Hitler have ever been able to accomplish without Nazis?” Sol added.

  “Right. Ok. So, the MOME assholes have to at least pretend not to kill me openly. I admit, in that case, a house fire seems like a legit option. ‘Oh how sad! The poor, recently exonerated Victoria Marmot was mourning the recent tragic loss of her parents, when a mysterious house fire took her life, and those of her troublesome and law-breaking friends.’ Right. Makes sense. Still, I don’t know that MOME knew about those journals. After all, if they did, why leave them there? They could have lured me there without the actual journals, just using the mere idea of them. And it still doesn’t make sense that they could have found out about the journals anyway. Mom and Dad went to a lot of trouble to keep that from happening.”

  “Possssibly, but we cannot rule MOME out,” Rhelia said, from Trev’s side, where she appeared to be doing a Vulcan mind meld or some shit.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, when her hand was still spread across Trev’s temple and cheekbone few seconds later.

  “I’m jusssst checking to make ssssure there issssn’t any tissssue damage in hissss lungssss.”

  I was intensely curious about how that worked, but realized that with my luck, someone was likely to come tearing into the room with a flamethrower to destroy this file and Mom’s last remaining journal any moment now. I should really start reading them if I had any hope of getting any answers, like, ever.

  A half an hour later I knew a lot of things about my parents that I’d never known before, but I still didn’t know who’d set my parents' house on fire.

  “Trev, how far did you get in this file before you started that argument with Albert?” I asked.

  Trev, no longer under Rhelia’s ministrations that I could see, but now sitting up and holding her hand rather endearingly, tipped his head back as if to think.

  “I got to the point where I found out exactly what they were studying with Albert.”

  “Ok. I read that part, but it didn’t really make sense to me. Expanded Dark Matter studies? What does that mean?”

  Trev took a deep breath and sighed.

  “It’s what they were teaching me and the other ‘misfits’ at MOME too. Well, some of us, anyway.”

  “But Mom and Dad went to learn it from Albert voluntarily?” I asked.

  “Yes. Because when they were teenagers, the program actually paid them as test subjects, rather than merely kidnapping and then ‘educating’ them, but they were still more or less lab rats.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked.

  Everyone else in the room seemed to be making a point of maintaining absolute silence, and I wondered what taboo we were getting into that had them all so quiet.

  “Albert as much as told me that much, after I confronted him about it, but it was clear enough in the file itself. Besides, no one from our world who had anything left to lose would volunteer to be in a study on Expanded Dark Matter.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Because most people consider it a myth,” Sol replied. “The most respected researchers in the magical world have disproved its existence time and time again. There have been over a dozen articles published to that effect.”

  Rhelia snorted.

  We all turned to look at her.

  “Humanssss are sssso limited,” she sighed. “Bessssidessss, it hassss alwayssss been in MOME’ssss besssst interesssstssss that no one believe in Exsssspanded Dark Matter theory, sssso why would they let anyone ‘prove’ it, unlessss it wassss for their own purpossssessss?”

  “So, did Mom and Dad even know what they were signing up for?” I wondered aloud. “Sounds like MOME wouldn’t have made it public knowledge.”

  “Unlikely. Who knows how MOME advertised it back then, but they probably just said they were conducting a study and willing to pay qualifying participants.”

  “And how did one qualify?” I asked, a chill running down my spine.

  “Likely by being on the list of ‘dangerous persons’ that MOME used to bandy about in those days,” Trev replied.

  “What does that mean?”

  Trev and Rhelia exchanged a look that I couldn’t decipher, then Trev stood up, muttered a word I couldn’t quite make out, and a ball of light appeared, floating above his hand.

  I just blinked at him, but Seamus and Sol both gasped.

  Then he muttered something else, and the ball of light disappeared, replaced with a rock.

  Sol and Seamus gasped again.

  I just blinked some more. I mean come on, Trev could turn into a fucking bird made out of fire—why was this supposed to be impressive?

  I must have said that last part aloud, because Sol replied, “Gatita, it’s not that those are impressive tricks, it’s just that they’re mage tricks. A were shouldn’t be able to do them at all.”

  I shrugged, feeling more out of place in the magical world than I had all month.

  “Dark matter is dark matter, isn’t it? Why wouldn’t you be able to use it for whatever?”

  Trev smiled, then banished the rock and bent over to hug me.

  “That’s the benefit of growing up outside the magical world, Vic. You aren’t hampered by a lifetime of internalized propaganda. You are absolutely right. Dark matter is dark matter, and anyone who can access it, who has it running in their veins, should be able to pull on whatever aspect of it they like, even if they have a genetic predilection for certain ways of accessing it.”

  “Makes sense to me,” I said, returning Trev’s embrace.

  “The dragonssss have known thissss for millennia,” Rhelia said, sounding a tiny bit smug. “We have tried to tell humanssss before, but you alwayssss wanted proof, and when we gave it to you, you ssssaid, 'but you are dragonssss, it issss not the ssssame.'”

  Sol and Seamus both looked dumbstruck.

  “It’s even possible to access more than one animal form,” Trev added, now seeming truly excited.

  “Impossible,” Sol whispered.

  Trev and Rhelia exchanged another glance.

  “You guys have been witnessing Vic pull us through time and space for weeks now, and you don’t think that it’s possible to have more powers than the ones that you’re genetically predisposed towards?”

  “But a goddess bestowed some powers on her,” Seamus objected.

  “And how would that work, if one couldn’t access dark matter in different ways than the ones we’re born to?”

  “I don’t know. She’s a goddess?”

  “Look, let’s all go into the basement, and we can show you something.”

  “Well, that sounds ominous,” I muttered.

  Trev laughed, giving me a nooggie, and I wondered what was making him so giddy.

  “We could go to the roof, but then the whole city might see,
and that could be… complicated.”

  ~~~

  So, that’s how we wound up in the creepy basement of a giant stone apartment complex in the middle of the night.

  I was not reassured when Trev asked me to stand in the middle of said creepy, weeping-stoned room, and then asked me to close my eyes.

  “Imagine yourself as a dragon,” Trev said.

  I laughed.

  “What?”

  Rhelia replied, “Feel the wind on your facsssse assss you fly through the ssssky. Feel the protection of the sssscalessss that cover your sssskin. Feel the raw power you contain within. Feel the ansssscient knowledge that you are an apexssss predator and none can sssstand in your way…”

  I decided it would be faster than arguing to just keep my mouth and eyes shut and go along with the exercise, even if it was pointless. I didn’t know what they thought was going to happen, but—

  Everyone gasped.

  “Yessss, very good!”

  I suddenly felt… weightier… like I was taking up quite a bit more of the room, and… I could feel the stone beneath my… claws? with four feet instead of just two. What the fuck? Had I pulled on my snow leopard form without meaning to? But that didn’t explain how much wider apart my feet felt, and, ah fuck it, I had better just open my eyes.

  Um… am I a dragon? I asked Trev and Rhelia.

  “Yep,” Trev said proudly.

  Looking around the room, I couldn’t really argue the point.

  I was a dragon.

  AS SOON AS I opened my eyes, it became clear why we had done this here, rather than in Rhelia’s apartment. When I looked down, everyone was way below me. My head was just shy of bumping the ceiling, and that was only because my dragon form seemed to have entered the world ducking. I couldn’t quite see the end of my tail until I made a point of flicking it up off the ground and waving it at myself. I was coiled tightly, but if I had to guess, I was about the length of a soccer field. My scales appeared to be every color of a tropical sunset, from deep crimson to bright orange, and a thousand shades in between. The fact that I could even distinguish that many colors in this dank, candlelit cellar was strange enough as it was.