Turvy Topsy

by Larisa Long

Then the banshee looks at me. “They experiment on hybrids. Rip them open to see what makes them tick. See if they can exploit their strengths.”

  I get images of underground labs and hybrids tied to gurney’s being tortured. I feel the crystals make their way to the surface, and I grab them and place them back in my pocket.

  I notice but don’t comment on the shifters who twitch a bit watching me.

  “Crystals would only recognize and heal the purest.” The banshee glances at the professor. “You’re right. She is a good witch. Can’t even imagine what her family is doing.”

  I step back. “My family?”

  “We’re her family,” Blist says quickly.

  The shifters nod and step as close to me as they can in a protective circle. “We’re her family.”

  “Are you talking about the King and Queen?”

  The banshee nods. “The King allows his supporters to do anything as long as they keep him in power.” She closes her eyes. “The things they’ve done.”

  Harst guarding the door growls. “It’s Xury.”

  We look to the professor who nods. “Let her in. She was there that night.”

  Harst opens the door as Xury spills in. “I heard a banshee is loose …” she stops out of breath and keeps her mouth open as she stares at the banshee. “Fae me. I guess I’m a bit late to the party.”

  Her pixie entourage knocks on the door.

  Xury glances at all of us. “Promise me you’ll tell me what’s going on later. I’ll deal with the pixies.” She leaves.

  I feel sick. Physically sick. I had no idea. As I look around, everyone else looks like I feel. Like we’ve all been gut punched or just swallowed a cactus.

  The professor notices. “Why don’t you go back to the dorms. Wait for me there.”

  I shuffle out with the rest of the shifters. None of us say a word as we walk across campus back to the dorms.

  We don’t take the elevator because there’s so many of us, and no one wants to be out of sight of the others.

  We shuffle down the stairs into the darkened hallway that winds around eventually spilling into the huge room. The shifters settle into various chairs and couches. The vampires take one look at our sad faces and leave quickly. I head right to my room and collapse on the bed.

  Blist sits down in the chair opposite me and stares at the floor.

  None of us say anything. Not Blist. Not me. Not a single shifter that was in that classroom. We all feel like we’ve been lied to or deceived somehow. Yes, it might have been for our protection but still. I think of the others, and I glance up at Blist who looks to be in pain. I wonder if being an empath is worse in times like these.

  “Can you feel them?”

  Blist shakes his head. “I don’t think so, but just hearing about what they’re going through …” He puts his hand over his heart. “Makes me sick.”

  Liam leans in the door, “Sorry to be a pest.” He grabs his stomach. “I don’t like feeling like this. Could food help?”

  I wave my hand, and the next room is filled with their favorites.

  “Respect,” they whisper without their usual enthusiasm.

  I jump up quickly. “What can we do?”

  Blist shrugs. “I have no idea.”

  “Surely someone is trying to do something. Maybe there’s a rebellion, an underground group who is fighting to …” I have no idea what I’m yattering on about. I excel in botanicals and crystals. I’m pretty good in potions. I’m horrible in runes, math and politics. Oh, and waiting. Waiting pixies me off.

  All I know is that something inside me aches whenever I know someone is being harmed or bullied or mistreated in any way.

  Blist studies me. “We need a plan.”

  “A plan? Like to overthrow the—”

  He jumps up to stop me. “No,” he quietly says. “Not that. To get you out in case there’s a coup.”

  “Get me out?”

  He nods. “You’re related to them. If it’s a violent overthrow …” His expression is all I need to know. I don’t need the specifics. I’ve read the stories of the overthrows in which everyone connected to either those trying to overthrow or those overthrown are killed.

  It was such a short time ago I was looking out the window at the Academy thinking how much I loved the place, how safe it is and how I could imagine living here forever. I just assumed the rest of the realm was the same way. Or maybe I just hoped it was. Thought if I didn’t ask, didn’t wonder … somehow it would be okay.

  “Could we escape into one of the realms inside the atrium?”

  I study Blist. He’s serious. There’s no grin or hint of one.

  “You think it would come to that?”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you. We’ll go together. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  I think about it. “If the Academy is attacked or closed, anyone in the realms would be trapped there indefinitely.”

  He grins. Now I know he’s back to his normal Blist. Not all the way back since worry still creases his forehead, but he’s on his way again. “Could we move within realms?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe. Why?”

  “I’ll need to know what to pack.” He winks at me. Only Blist could know how to lighten the mood.

  Something hits me, and I look up to see Rella blowing a bubble at me. “Do you have it?”

  Blist glances up at the faerie. “What?”

  “They took down the list of my curses.”

  Blist frowns. “Why not just ask the King?”

  “I did.”

  “He didn’t give them to you?”

  I shake my head at the same time Rella does.

  Something in my stomach aches. I was so naive to think the King was on my side. Now the banshee. The news of the realm. Before I can officially send out invitations to a pity party, a piece of paper drifts down and gets tangled in my hair. I grab it. “Thanks, Rella. And thanks to the faeries who translated it.”

  I take a very tiny piece of paper from my pocket and throw it up to her.

  She opens it, giggles and disappears.

  Blist frowns as he watches. “Do I want to know?”

  I sit back down on the bed. This will take awhile to unfold the faerie paper. “Never allow faeries to do anything for you without giving them something in return.”

  “Huh,” Blist nods. “That makes sense. What did you give them?”

  “The recipe for the special cocoa that was at the half party.”

  He frowns. “I’m not a cocoa expert but why would that be special?”

  I glance at him and smile. “It had a secret botanical ingredient. Don’t ask.”

  He holds his hands up in submission. “I won’t.” He motions to the paper which I’ve only been able to unfold part of. “Need help with it?”

  “Please.” I hand it to him.

  He sits down and delicately unfolds each piece. This way, I can distract myself from the horrors by watching Blist. He concentrates on everything equally. No task is too small, and he’s super serious and seriously handsome. I giggle. I can’t help it.

  He smiles as he glances up at me. “And what are you doing?”

  I shrug. “Nothing. Just watching you.”

  “Huh.” He turns the tiny paper one way and then another as he carefully tries not to destroy anything. “Too bad they couldn’t just use a flash drive.”

  I laugh. “You know faeries wouldn’t.”

  “Against their code. I know. I might be able to …” He lifts a corner. “Dead end.” He bends his neck this way and that and shakes out his hands.

  I snap my fingers. “Maybe this will help.”

  He looks down and sees a mug of his favorite raw stew. He snatches it up and gulps it in a second. He leans back and lets that settle. “Thanks. Didn’t know I was so hungry.” He grins at me. “Respect, Zalia Witch Shifter.”

  “Respect.” I study him. “Why just the one guess a day?”

  “Actually I said that for Xury.�
� He shakes like a mosquito is attacking. “She can get a bit much.”

  I flinch and look around as if I thought she could overhear or one of her pixies would try to settle the score. I put my hand over my heart. “I have no idea what you mean.” Then I try to think of something else fast. I love Xury to death, but yes she’s overpowering. She’s a pixie.

  “You can guess as many times as you want.”

  I move to the edge of the bed. “Really? And if I get it right?”

  Blist shrugs as he begins to make progress with the folds. “Maybe you already have.”

  My mind races through everything I’ve already guessed. “So not fair.”

  “Ah,” he sighs. “An ambush.” Parts of the paper refolds itself. “Thought I had it.”

  “Another dead end?”

  He nods. “What is this made out of?”

  “Special faerie recipe. Allows them to fold infinitely and deliver their messages without it getting too weighty.”

  “Wait …” Blist sits back. “I think I have it.” He carefully unfolds a corner, and the entire paper takes a deep breath, unfolds itself and sighs. Blist frowns. “It’s blank.”

  I put my hand out, and he hands it to me. “You have to wait for it. And it will only be visible to the one it’s intended for.”

  “Faeries …”

  “You’re a genius, Blist. How is it that you know so little about faeries?”

  “I’d never seen one until coming here, and they avoid shifters. Whenever I tried to learn about them, I’d forget everything I knew.”

  “That’s weird. Is that like the thing with the banshee?”

  “Maybe.”

  I look down, and the words are finally forming. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.”

  He leans over to see. “You’re right. I can’t see anything. What does it say?” He gets comfy in the chair like I’m going to read him a bedtime story. He sips at the cup, but it’s empty.

  I snap my fingers, and it’s refilled.

  “Respect.”

  “Respect. Okay. Here we go. The Original 36 curses.” I read it over and shake my head. “Ready?”

  He gets situated very dramatically with the mug in his hands. “Go.”

  I take a deep breath. “Curse number one. I won’t be able to taste anything blue.” I sit back. “Blue?”

  Blist thinks about it. “What’s blue? Blueberries?”

  All I can think of is frosting. Must be hungry. I conjure a chocolate mocha smoothie and start sipping.

  “Some eyes are blue,” one of the shifters says from the other room.

  “Yikes.” I put my smoothie down quickly. “Didn’t need to think about that.” I can’t help it, but my blue eye twitches.

  Blist laughs. “No, I’ve never eaten an eye.”

  “What about that—”

  “Nope,” Blist cuts off the eavesdropping shifter. “Not having that conversation.”

  “Curse number two. All witches hate me.”

  “Still in effect,” Blist hisses.

  “Curse number three. Never remember my origin story. Do love that one,” I say, with as much sarcasm as I can. “Curse number four.” I read it and shake my head. “I’ll always be happy.” I shrug. “What the fae?”

  A few more shifters laugh in the next room.

  Blist frowns. “Someone must have slipped that in. That doesn’t sound like the cousins.” He sits up. “Maybe that’s why you took everything they did to you.”

  I cringe. “Better if it’s a curse and not some weird self-loathing gene. Those are so hard to shake.”

  Blist snorts.

  “Five. No advanced classes.” I wonder about that one. “Why?” I don’t want to waste time thinking of their motives. “Six.” I glance at Blist.

  “The classic.”

  “Pained if I ever think something bad about them. Curse number seven. My hair gets lighter each season.” I quickly grab my hair and study the ends. “Was my hair darker when we first met?”

  Blist slowly nods and motions to his own hair.

  “As dark as yours?”

  He grins. “Maybe.”

  “Huh. Eight. I always fall in the toilet.” Why? “Fiends. Nine.”

  Blist groans. “The curses will multiply.”

  “Ten. No witch or warlock or witchlock will be nice to me. Doesn’t that go with two? Curse number eleven.” I have to shake my head and laugh.

  “What?”

  “It says see curse number ten.”

  Blist sighs. “That’s just sloppy warlock right there.”

  “Twelve.”

  Blist moves around in his chair. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Moving on to thirteen. Yuck.”

  “What?”

  I hesitate to say. “My first kiss will be with Raks.”

  The shifters groan in the other room.

  Blist nods. “Makes sense that it’s a curse.”

  I think about that. True. “Fourteen. No one will tell me about the curses until I remember them. Sucks.”

  Blist nods.

  “Fifteen. I can’t use magic against the cousins. Sucks again. Wait …” I think about touching B1 to see if she’d catch on fire. “Doesn’t say I can’t set them on fire.”

  “An up side.” Blist thinks about that. “Another loophole.”

  “I’ll get the lighter fluid,” a shifter screeches from the other room as the others laugh.

  “Sixteen.” I pause to take another drink. “Sixteen and seventeen have to be written by B4. I’ll never use a purse or the same shade of lipgloss as the cousins’ current favorite.”

  Blist’s eyes widen. “Wow. That’s a harsh curse.” He pretends to dab his eyes. “Glad they didn’t curse me.” He waves at his eyes like he’s trying to dry them quickly.

  “Eighteen. No witch can look directly at me.” I sigh. “I do miss that one.” I continue reading. “Uh oh. B4 strikes again. Nineteen. I won’t wear pink well.”

  “Well? Like you won’t wear it at all?” Blist thinks about it.

  “I won’t wear it and look good in it?”

  “That curse was over before it began. You look good in anything.”

  “Aw.”

  There’s snarling and coughing in the next room.

  “That’s weird.”

  Blist laughs. “Shifters.”

  “Twenty. I won’t wear yellow eyeshadow.” I cringe. “And twenty-one. I won’t trip.” I think about that. “Wait a minute. I’ve tripped.” I look again. “Oh, I won’t trip over a hot rock.”

  “B4 is quite the intellectual.”

  “Twenty-two. No one will help me until I help myself.” I think about that. “So not one of B cubed. Twenty-three.”

  “No sleep during the week.” Blist sighs. Then, he grins. “Poor Zalia has to stay awake and watch her handsome jaguar shifter dream about her.”

  “I know. Awful with the curses. Where am I?”

  “Number twenty-four.”

  “Twenty-four.” I read it and laugh. “Well, twenty-four and twenty-five were written by complete morons.” I look up at the ceiling waiting to feel pain. “Gotta love the loopholes. Twenty-four says I won’t fall in love with Raks.”

  Blist sits straight up. “I want a copy of that one. I love that.”

  “Twenty-five says I will.”

  Blist’s smile disappears, and the shifters in the next room are silent.

  I forget how much the others don’t know about witches. I wonder why the witches are so secretive about everything. “Witch 101. Any spell or curse that nullifies another spell or curse negates both as if neither existed in the first place.” I flinch as I listen to myself literally quote from the stiffly worded witch’s manual.

  “Meaning?”

  “I’ll never fall in love with Raks.”

  Blist blows out a breath. “Curse or not?”

  I shake my head. “It depends on what’s real, and I’ve never been in love with him. Will never be in love with him.” I think about
it. “Sure, I’ve watched him. I have liked to look at him from time to time. He’s pure muscle, and I mean he’s built like a …” I realize I’ve said all this out loud. I let my words trail off and die an unnatural death as Blist’s eyes change color.

  “Twenty-six.” I clear my throat. I take another long sip of the smoothie which is almost gone. “Everything read during the week has to be read three times.” I turn the paper over. “Everything’s blank until the last curse.”

  Blist smiles. “What was that one again?”

  I roll my eyes. “My hair will never change.”

  He nods. “And what did you say it was?”

  I bite my lip. “Crush on my best friend.”

  “And it wasn’t?”

  I shake my head. “Faeries?”

  Rella and a few faeries appear.

  I show them the paper. “Curses Number 27 through 35 are blank.”

  She and the faeries whisper to each other. She motions for me to bring the paper closer to her which I do. Rella takes out a small drop of liquid and drips it onto the paper and watches it spread.

  “What happened to Fex?” Blist asks. “Can you ask them?”

  “How’s your new toy?”

  The faeries giggle and one of them acts out something which makes me blush.

  “Thank you.”

  They disappear again.

  “What did she say?”

  “They’ve tested him with every game they could think of. They liked kick ball the best. After they revived him for the three hundredth and thirty-sixth time, they’re using him as a model for their new line of faerie clothes.”

  “He has to model their clothes?”

  I nod. “Yep. And in between, they’re keeping him naked.”

  Blist cringes. “Didn’t need to know that.”

  “Ew,” the shifters say.

  “Naked and suspended in their tank of goo.”

  The shifters in the next room laugh.

  Liam peeks in again. “Can they take a picture of him in the goo?” He disappears before returning. “Just pixel out his junk.” He leaves again. “With a tiny, little pixel.” The room full of shifters laugh.

  I look at Blist who shakes his head.

  “I’ll ask.” I look down. “Okay, the words are appearing.” I watch as the letters and then the words appear. I read the curses one by one, and my body tenses. I can’t breath. I can’t think.

  “Zalia?” Blist looks at the paper, but he can’t see anything. “Zalia? Talk to me.”