by Riley Archer
I wondered what other kinds of delectable toys they had within these cold, old walls.
I stared at the schedule map given to me. It was all on one page, didn’t make much sense, and I had to unroll it like a scroll. Not to mention the paper was crustier than a used cigarette. It was either a hundred years old, or whoever designed it was really into Dungeons and Dragons, World of Warcraft, or some other dragon-slaying quest-maker game.
It sure felt like I’d stepped into a sword and sorcery nightmare.
A really boring one.
I twiddled my fingers, tapped my toes, and pressed a hand against one of the stone walls boxing me in. It had a cool, dank feel to it, and I suddenly realized that I had been extremely compliant as I was escorted to my cell. Because that’s what this medieval broom closet was—a pint-sized dungeon. If Dean Duvall wasn’t a magical creature and thus banned from becoming a reaper, she’d have made an excellent Enforcer.
I grabbed the hot torch from my wall, only minorly burning myself from the effort, and stepped into the dark hall. Distant light glowed on either end.
Well, I hadn’t been locked in. Which seemed a bit silly since I was supposed to be under strict supervision. Which meant this was probably a set-up, but … how did that saying go?
Ah, right. No cop, no stop.
It was the opposite way I came from, so I took a left. There didn’t appear to be many doors down this way, and the ones I did pass had no noise coming from behind them. I supposed not having a roommate was something to be thankful for, but if I had the whole dang hallway to myself, why was I stuck in a cupboard?
Psychological warfare, I reminded myself. No girls’ dormitory for me. They wanted me to feel confined and alone. Also, they probably didn’t want me tainting their real students, the ones that weren’t political prisoners.
When I reached a crossroads, I took another left for no apparent reason other than it seemed symbolic; making right decisions didn’t seem to be my thing.
The ceiling was high, but had no interesting paintings or anything noteworthy, like a camera. I didn’t spot a recording device of any kind.
I’d expected some type of surveillance—
“Oof!” My ankle hooked on something that had to be the size of a small backpack, but as I went down, I didn’t see anything below me. I went down hard.
I pivoted so my side smacked the ground instead of my thick head. My torch tumbled from my grasp and went out as if it’d landed in a giant ashtray.
Making careful movements in the shadows, I scooped it up, lit it against the closest torch perched on the wall, and waved it around like a flashlight.
There was no badly placed gnome on the ground. No pesky furniture. No assailant.
I was oddly upset by that revelation; it meant I tripped over my own damn feet. Apparently, somewhere between my trial and imprisonment, I’d forgotten how to walk.
I straightened myself out and blew a stray hair out of my face. Okay. Back to snooping.
“And where are you going?” said a silky, accented croon from behind me.
Every hair on my body raised on end. I turned slow enough for my bones to creak.
I’d dealt with spirits for a living, but for some reason, it felt like I’d been shoved into a horror movie; if so, someone on the other side of the screen was probably screaming, “Now run, you idiot!”
And I’d tell that omniscient viewer to mind their own damn business. Also, I’d tell them to stop being a chicken. I may have had gooseflesh trailing down my arms, but that was because it was cold in here. Mostly.
Upon further inspection, I still saw nothing. Then, my eyeline drifted downwards.
Just beyond the torchlight, a cat stared up at me while licking its paw, its puffy tail swishing side to side.
Aw! So fluffy! My voice immediately went into baby-talking mode. “Hey, kitty, kitty. Where’s your owner?”
It cocked its head to the side. “Where’s yours?”
Oh, hell no. I backed up a pace and squinted at the ceiling again. I didn’t spot any strings, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t controlling this thing. This … talking cat.
Someone had a clawful sense of humor.
I waved my torch side to side, looking for the sicko who was trying to prank me. “Where’s your marionette, little puppet?”
The cat stretched and then stepped into the warm light. It had the ethereal gray coloring that could only be worn by a ghost.
“Marionette, Marion, meow …” it yawned. Sure, its voice was a horn of adorable touched by a slight Russian inflection, but it was saying human words. And then meowing like a cat.
If this was how RC did psychological warfare, I’d grossly underestimated their creativity, and I was definitely losing.
Now by my feet, the tiny monster crooned, “You’re more puppet than I am, naughty reaper, but you can call me … Mari. Da. I like that name.”
We fell into a staring contest, the creature’s overly large eyes blinking innocently into mine. After a few more blinks, the furball won.
I coughed into the awkward silence. At least I’d come up with a theory. “I get it. You’re Specter Simulator vomit, aren’t you Mari?”
“Svo-lach’.” The cat looked at me with all the ferocity of a lion. “I’m Driftwood Guard.”
I was pretty sure this thing just called me a dirty name, which somehow made me like it more. Amusement tickled my lips. “You’re the size of my foot. What are you guarding against? A flight of mice?”
Mari hissed. Tufts of spectral fur shot straight out. “Watch yourself and those glass slippers, Criminella. The mouse here is you.” She tapped my toes, which seemed to be the kitten-equivalent of poking me in the chest. A chuckle curled in my throat and lingered there. “My task is to keep eye on you. Don’t want me to report you? Then follow and do what I say.”
She strutted past me, expecting me to follow. Whatever the feline version of Napoleon syndrome was, I was pretty sure this domestic apparition had it.
I was curious enough to go with it. “Where are we going?”
“I think I’d like some tuna,” Mari said as her sashaying tail turned a corner.
I shrugged and let her lead the way. And I’d worried my first night in castle confinement would be boring.
My midnight escape had already reaped one bit of tasty information: I was being surveilled all right, but not by technology. Nope. Reaper Collective had kitten spies do their dirty work for them. Bossy kitten spies.
A ghostly paw rested against a giant stainless-steel fridge.
I was impressed RC had forked over the funds for the French-door monstrosity. It sat opposite a huge island for vegetable-chopping, flour-pounding, and other aggressive food-related things, but the rest of the surroundings were just straight-up aggressive. Well, aggressively medieval.
As I inspected the cobweb corners, Mari growled. Since she’d been able to tap my toes earlier, I didn’t doubt she could unleash beastly little claws to sink into me.
I frowned. “Something wrong? Or are you just looking for a catfight?”
Mari’s whiskers twitched. “Open.”
I rolled my eyes. “Since you asked nicely …” I mumbled as I pulled the door open. Every vivid, delicious color imaginable glittered back at me. It was like peering into a farmer’s market. Loaves of curly greens sat beside plump, deep purple eggplants. Deviled eggs were ready to devour inside a long Tupperware container, lightly sprinkled with paprika. Cubes of cheese shared a drawer with fresh deli meats.
My stomach punched into itself and gurgled. Stupid fleshly urges. If I wasn’t sure of it before, I definitely was now; we were without a doubt in the physical realm.
And if anything would keep restless reaper students behaved, it’d be food that hadn’t suffered spiritual transport.
I forgot all about Mari and her tuna and searched for something to satiate myself.
A handful of sliced turkey immediately fell victim to my molars. Then, I grabbed a strawberry for so
me sweet to balance the saltiness sinking into my taste buds. Before I could bite into it, a weighted shock bounced on my shoulder, and then knocked into my feeding hand. The strawberry flung out of my grip and landed on the dusty floor with a sad plop.
That little demon.
“What, cat?” I blinked toward her, which essentially meant I’d shoved my face into a mostly see-through kitty.
I didn’t feel the soft welcome of fur; instead, it was like sticking my nose into a staticky balloon. I sneezed, and she took the opportunity to jump on my head.
I swatted her away, but my hand passed through with a tingle.
She squeezed the sides of my skull with her thin claws. “Don’t test me, Criminella. If they know you sneak out night one, won’t be good for you. Being my friend is good for you. No trust, no fun.”
“I don’t think we have the same idea of fun. And what’ll they do?” I pinched my nose to hold in a second sneeze. “Make me the keeper of catnip?”
A shock zinged against my temple before her talons tightened. “No. What do they call it? Deactivation?”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass.” I tried and failed again to knock her off me, dancing around like a tarantula had slipped into my shirt.
The electric pest didn’t budge. “So what? Nobody wants a rat’s ass. Or your ass, for that matter.”
I huffed out a semi-defeated breath. “That’s rude. This ass has been through—”
The damn cat slapped me again.
That’s it. I reached into the spirit realm to get ahold of Mari’s scruff, but I struggled a bit, almost like I had to wade through invisible sheets to get to her. When I finally caught her, she sunk her ghostly fangs into me and jumped to the island, landing far too softly on her feet.
“Perhaps they should deactivate you,” she said, her fangs slightly bared.
I almost walked away right then, but Otto’s unshaven face popped inside my head, followed by the image of my mother in a cell. My stubborn will deflated.
Maybe I’d been deactivated already and gone to hell. If so, it wasn’t a stretch to believe Mari was a demon. She had the “devilish minion” thing down to a T.
I took another look at her exposed canines and sighed. On the off chance I wasn’t in hell, it was probably in my best interest to appease the violent feline. I scrounged the fridge again, this time looking for tuna. Seriously. Tuna.
There was nothing sushi-worthy, but I found a sealed package tucked beneath the lunch meat.
“Sorry we got off on the wrong paw. I was just a little hangry.” I pinched the packet of fish and dangled it between us. “How exactly are you going to eat this?”
“Reaper thing.” Mari’s frizz slowly went flat. She cocked her head to the side, reading my confusion. “Transport to the spirit realm. In my layer … please.”
Sure, now that I had food, she’d magically grown manners.
“Layer? You’re a cat, not a cake.”
Mari’s tail flicked with malevolence. Her eyes narrowed into harsh slits. “Remember how you struggled so much to reach me before? Do that, but better.”
“Any chance you’re an outdoor cat?” I asked as I waded through the dimensional sheets again.
“There,” Mari said, and I held my place. She crept closer as I ripped the packet open and dumped out its contents. She started gobbling it up like it was afterlife Meow Mix; an audible purr rumbled from her belly.
I caught myself smirking before I realized that not only was this a cat brat that could talk—it was a cat ghost who could eat.
The mechanics of her existence gave me a headache. Hell, the mechanics of my existence gave me a headache. I wondered if she was also the result of some prophesized curse.
I cleared my throat. “Happy to be of service, Mari. So, what, um … are you?”
My social skills with ghosts could’ve used some attention. I was a wee bit out of practice. I mean, it had all gone downhill after that fateful encounter with Hailey Godwin.
When Mari swallowed the last morsel of processed fish, she licked her paw. “A cat. Good thing you’re in school, huh?”
And then the wretched ball of spectral fur disappeared.
5
The Unsociable Butterfly
I made it back to my room without bumping into any other ghosts, animal or otherwise.
The problem was after that, I couldn’t sleep. Maybe because I couldn’t find a position that didn’t give me a cramp after ten minutes, or maybe because of a repressed fear of furry attacks. Mari may not have had opposable thumbs, but I wasn’t convinced she couldn’t hold a knife to my throat.
The watch Eliza gifted me before leaving me with the dean flashed 6:00 AM. I had an hour to make it to my first class, Intro to Evolved Clairvoyance, which was located on the other side of the castle. After that was Telesthesia Tactics, a thirty-minute lunch block, Customs of Interagency Collection, and the day ended with Apparitic Defenses, whatever the hell that was.
Dull memories of the public school system bloomed in the forefront of my mind. Full days with my butt cheeks going numb from sitting in a creaky plastic seat. Head-bobbing my way to detention.
Reaper Collective loved mimicking societal norms, which meant their education system was probably full of lectures and PowerPoints.
I groaned and put my cold feet on the even colder floor.
Being locked up with Tanaka was looking better and better.
My idiotic mind quickly jumped to him being locked up with me, and then to what kind of positions we’d have to tangle into if we had to share my sad excuse for a mattress.
Shame and carnal heat fought for control of my stomach. Neither won as I quickly dressed and darted from the room.
I knew Tanaka had zero interest, but thanks to years of pining, my thoughts had gone there out of habit. If my mind was a train track, then the rails to that fantasy had been cemented and worn in.
It was probably time to lay down new tracks, which was next to impossible when I’d sworn off trusting beautiful men.
I know what I need. Not a lover to fantasize about, but a friend or two or three. Preferably ones who knew the ins and outs of this place, who could find ways for me to evade Mari and her bosses—and bossiness—and find the supernatural answers I needed.
So, yeah, I needed to make friends, which I had been told multiple times was not a talent of mine. But I could be sweet. I could amenable and friendly and—
“Watch it!” I barked as someone rammed into my shoulder. Oops.
“Sorry,” the guy said as his impressive stacks of paper went flying.
“Um, no problem,” I said in a much nicer tone, crouching down to help pick up the mess. I eyed a few geometrical sketches of different beings, clearly erased and redrawn multiple times. I tidied them and handed them back. “I’m sorry too. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Thanks.” He accepted them with a smile and tucked them into his satchel. He narrowed his gaze, but not in a mean way. “You have an I’m lost look about you. What are you majoring in?
“Um.” I glanced at my inadequate map. “Advanced Collections. I’m Ellis.”
“Hey, me too! Nice to meet you, Ellis. I’m Aiden.” He seemed to want to extend a hand but decided I might swat at it, so he ran it through his static-straight hair instead. From the anime pins on his satchel to his Star Wars t-shirt to the overly intelligent sheen in his eyes, I guessed he built robots for fun. “Have you had breakfast yet?”
“Nope. Um, how about you?” There I went, making small talk. I could totally make friends. Screw Damian and whoever else implied I wasn’t sociable. I was a butterfly.
“I’m on my way to the dining hall if you want to tag along.”
Even when he had her beat by about six feet or so, he seemed less threatening than Mari.
“Yeah, sure.” I smiled and started off again.
“Uh, hey Ellis?” Aiden said from behind me. I turned. “It’s this way.”
I was pleased to discover the dining hal
l had some modern touches; a serve-yourself buffet was set up at the front and the rest of the hall was full of circular tables, which were mostly empty.
At least Aiden was kind enough to draw decent directions on my map before he joined a similarly dressed clique. The group was overly animated as they passed sketches around the table.
They weren’t the only formed cluster. Groups of harsh faces and pent-up angst co-mingled with the overly saccharine—the quiet ones everyone is told to look out for.
The vibe here reminded me of the alternative high school I was forced to attend and graduate from. And similar to there, the people in here didn’t bother to pay me any mind.
My new resolve to make friends wasn’t strong enough for me to introduce myself to them. So, maybe I wasn’t quite a butterfly yet, but an approachable caterpillar. I grabbed a bagel from a table and moved on.
As I wandered through the halls, I almost turned down a dark hallway, but a faint meow kept me still. I shook it off and took another step.
“Meow.” The second one snaked toward me like a venomous whisper.
I had some quiet venom of my own to spew. I faced the general direction I’d heard Mari threaten me from. “I am definitely a dog person.”
A small group walking by gave me funny looks as they passed. I smiled and waved, all but saying move along.
I tried to find her, but it seemed Mari had disappeared. Ah, whatever. I genuinely hoped there was a talking dog somewhere in this castle.
When I finally found Intro to Evolved Clairvoyance, I was certain I’d stumbled into a yoga class.
Students sat with perfect posture in Zen poses, their eyes closed as they hummed.
Before I slowly backed out, a young woman with a long ponytail waved at me. “You must be Ellis. We’re a couple of weeks into the semester, but I’m sure you’ll catch up in no time. Please, grab a mat and sit anywhere.”
Catch up, or catch some Zs? The latter sounded nice.