by Louisa Lo
“Here you go.” She handed the photo back to me. Before letting go, she dug her thumbnail into the glossy layer printed with my mother’s image, pressing in with a small push of magic so my mom’s face peeled off. “Oops. Sorry.”
My blood boiled and my eyes saw red, literally. Madeleine was insulting my mom by using an old human superstition, which said that destroying an image of someone would cause that person harm. With the right incantation and tools, that wasn’t exactly an old wives’ tale. It was a grave insult, if not an outright threat.
I tightened my fists. I didn’t have a lot of pictures with just Mom and Dad and me, and the opportunities to take more grew fewer with the increasing demands in my life, given my chosen career path and the exhaustive venture of growing up.
“You could always mend it with magic.” Madeleine suggested, her mocking tone burned like acid on raw skin.
I reverently picked up the peeled-off piece of my mother’s image from the ground and concentrated. Nothing. I tried harder, squinting my eyes and almost giving myself early wrinkles in the process. Still nothing. The small scrap of glossy paper refused to reseal itself onto the photo. Madeleine’s more cunning magic blocked me at every attempt.
I could feel blood rushing to my cheeks and the air becoming as thin as if I was standing on top of the Himalayan Mountains. Guilt and frustration gnawed at me. Here I was, missing time with family in pursuit of a profession full of the Madeleine type, the sort who’d never accepted my own mother.
“What’s the matter?” she jeered. “The dirty little half-breed’s too weak to give Mommy a hand? You’re a pretender, Megan. Never forget that. I don’t know and I don’t care how you managed to get into the co-op, but you’re not one of us, you hear me?”
Of its own accord, my mind started creating scenarios of getting to the brat through trickery, and ironically that was what slowed my pulse down. Action was always more calming than inaction. How about putting a progressive shrinking spell on her tight pantsuit and a time-released rip of the seam during her next student council speech? What about an illusion spell so she kept reading an extra ten pounds on her scale? If I was really careful, she would never find out what I’d done…
Watch out, Megan. You’re in a public area. This is exactly what she wants. She wants to catch you tapping in to your trickster side in front of the whole school. Then there would be no dispute that you could’ve used trickery to get placed.
I looked around. The school courtyard had indeed gotten more crowded since I’d last checked. Students had started congregating around us, watching our every move, hoping to catch a good fight.
So I would give them one. But not the one they wanted.
“Why don’t we take it into the ring?” I gestured towards a designated combat practice ring in the courtyard.
I turned and headed in that direction, knowing Madeleine would follow suit.
A light rain started to drizzle as the elf manager of the ring greeted us.
Martial arts and other combative training were a part of our vengeance education, not because we used it very often—with vengeance magic backing us up and all—but because the administration believed it was a great way to develop discipline.
But for students, the practice ring was a way for them to settle personal scores while staying under the school’s radar. We were prohibited from using our powers on each other within campus, but whatever happened in the practice ring was fair game.
Madeleine and I were even civilized enough to put our names on the sign-up sheet, blocking off a slot of exactly one hour.
The random game selector, a wheel that depicted over ten types of combative sports, started to spin.
Please let it be staff fighting. I’m good at staff fighting. There are plenty of soft organs to hurt with the dull end of a stick.
The tiny black arrow spun around the colorful pie-shaped wheel, stopping on a bright yellow wedge labeled wrestling.
“Are you serious?” I shook my head.
“What’s wrong with wrestling?” Madeleine smirked as the elf blew faery dust on her shoulder, changing her outfit into tank top and shorts in an instant. Then he proceeded to do the same for me. “You scared?”
Nothing wrong, just two college girls with wet tops rubbing skin to skin, grabbing at each other, that was all. I decided not to point out how porn-like the scenario would be for an average human male. For one, males in the vengeance world got more turned on by ball-busters—both on and off the job—than a pair of sweaty girls. Second, I didn’t need to share the fact that I was a human pop culture buff. I already had enough strikes against me.
And wrestling might actually work out better than I thought.
Madeleine took off her shoes. Doing so seemed to have reminded her of what I’d done to them, and that only got her madder. I passed my mother’s photo and the bits of paper that held the image of her face to the elf manager. “Keep it safe, will ya?”
The next hour was broken into three twenty-minute rounds of the girls each taking their turns pushing me around. There was only one of them in the ring with me at any given time, so it was technically fair, and that was the kind of fairness the administration could live with. Whenever the elf manager turned his back, the girls cheated, using vengeance magic to make their pounces faster, their shoves harder.
More and more students gathered around the ring, pointing, jeering, and making wagers. There were those who mistrusted me, those who feared me for what I was, and those who were downright jealous, though I doubt any of them in their heart of hearts believed I’d cheated. And then there were a few who didn’t seem quite comfortable being there, who regarded me with a measure of sympathy. I wasn’t moved. Pity was cheap when one refused to act on it.
Tears were cheap too, I told myself as one threatened to make its way out of my eye. I ought to have gotten used to the hostile treatment by now. After all, it had started in kindergarten.
Nobody said anything when vengeance power was illegally used.
I used none. I couldn’t afford it. I was running pretty low, since I’d been throwing every bit of vengeance power I had towards the practice sessions.
Nor would I use my trickery power, regardless of how much I had on reserve. I’d worked too hard to be here. There were over two dozen witnesses around me.
In general, it was the source of a magic that provided its distinctive flavor. Vengeance magic stemmed from cold logic and a sense of duty, while trickery came from a love of fun and mischief. One had the bitter aftertaste of Earl Grey tea; the other, margarita and pineapple.
This lot around me could definitely tell the difference.
Halfway through the hour, I heard a gasp and turned toward the sound, leaving myself open for a scratch across the lower half of my face. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth as I brought the horrified face of Serafina into focus. She was standing right at the edge of the ring. I had no idea when she’d gotten there.
“Everyone, please stop.” She struggled to be heard over the racket.
“Get outta here!” I shouted at her. The crowd was wild, and the nasty mood could easily shift from me to the former changeling kidnappee, which would defeat the entire point of trying to stop the bullying in the first place. “Go!”
“But—”
“I’m just enjoying a good workout, that’s all. Ouch!” My opponent wrapped a lock of my hair around her fingers and pulled hard. I returned the favor by elbowing her right in the breast. “Now GO!”
Serafina stared at me with an unreadable expression and left the courtyard without another word.
I was sore from head to toe from the “workout”. The girls weren’t as much into beating as they were into cat scratching, pushing, and tripping. So tons of bumps and bruises, not to mention some broken skin, but not exactly life-threatening injuries. The visual effect of blood and floor kissing was a crowd-pleaser though, so after a while, I just tuned them out.
My sweating slowed to a trickle, as if my body h
ad figured out there was no point, and I was grateful as I was starting to stink. My defensive blocks felt like they were done underwater, and my eyes grew heavy with fatigue.
When the one-hour timer sounded off, I slumped to the floor on my stomach, not bothering to make sure my opponent would honor the cease-fire and resist giving an extra kick to my head.
And that was how Madeleine and her cronies left me, defeated on the floor of the ring, content that they’d taught me a lesson. The crowd dispersed as many finally remembered they had to pack for the short break before summer courses began. The courtyard was soon deserted.
I took my time getting up.
And found Serafina standing next to the elf manager. She took a handful of faery dust from him and blew it on me once to get rid of all the sweat and bruises on my body, and twice to change me back to my original clothes. All my pain was gone in an instant.
“Thanks.” I mumbled.
“No, thank you.”
His shift ended, the elf manager turned and left, but not before throwing one last pitiful glance my way. Serafina, on the contrary, was grinning ear to ear, her eyes dancing with mirth.
“You figured it out?” I asked her.
“About halfway to the dean’s office. I kept thinking about the way you said you were enjoying it.” She glanced down at the pearl pendant hanging around my neck. At the top of the hour, the pearl had been semi-transparent; now it was glowing with a healthy luster. “I never would’ve thought to get charged up this way.”
That was the real reason I’d brought the fight to the ring. I was doing more than rubbing skin with those girls. My pearl, a depository and amplifier of power, was robbing my attackers of their vengeance magic every time they thought they were hurting me. During the last hour, my body might’ve been exhausted, but my pearl was quietly storing up power, waiting for me to tap into it once the crowd was gone.
“I did give something back as a parting gift, you know.” I grinned. In another month, the girls would suddenly sprout hairy pig’s tails, and they wouldn’t even notice them at first. The tails would poke out of their pantsuits, bouncing as they tried to incite terror in their co-op targets, or better yet, while they were flirting with hot guys.
I even took the time to give the one that was pre-set to go on Madeleine an extra curl. All with the girls’ own magic.
Serafina took my family photo and the curled-up paper bits from the elf manager and handed them to me, “There’s one more thing you can do with that magic.”
“You read my mind.” I touched the paper bits gently against my pearl pendant. The ruined parts unfolded themselves and leaped back into the photo where they belonged, restoring it. I put the picture in my bag and grinned at Serafina.
“Hey, you want to go for a fire and brimstone bubble tea?”
***
The only thing worse than standing in the dorm parking lot with three gigantic pink suitcases and snobbish girls smirking from the upstairs windows was to do so with the designated getaway car MIA.
After what felt like hours, a familiar purple sedan came into view.
“Esme, over here!” I waved at my half-sister, who swung the car into the space next to me, precisely fifteen inches from the white line on both sides. Somehow, though the car window was open and it was a windy day, not a wine-red hair was out of place.
With one manicured finger, Esme pressed the button to pop the trunk. As a senior and a TA, she dressed head to toe in black, similar to Madeleine. The difference was, the pantsuit gave the impression that Madeleine was trying too hard, while Esme pulled it off with sleek curves and subtle confidence. Esme’s pale, freckled skin and green eyes made a stark contrast with the leather that covered the rest of her size-zero body, and her chiseled cheekbones were sharp enough for her to get a part-time job cutting magic mirrors for goblins.
I sighed. My own mud-colored hair, brown eyes, and olive complexion were quite different from Esme’s classic redhead look. It didn’t take a genius to tell we weren’t full sisters. And unlike her, I inherited my trickster mother’s body type—more on the plump and jolly than super skinny. Except I didn’t want to be jolly. I wanted to be light-footed and graceful and terrifying.
Esme got out of the car and walked towards the open trunk. She started helping me put the suitcases in.
“What took you so long?” I complained.
“Sorry, Megan. I was delayed by a target. He tried to bribe his way out of vengeance by kissing me.”
I whistled. “Kissing on the job. Somebody is finally having a life.”
“He’s a slime demon.” Esme stroked one of her pearl stud earrings and shuddered. “I had to go home for a complete scrub-down.”
“Ouch.” For someone that gorgeous, the girl sure had bad luck when it came to men. I glanced at the clock on my smart phone and swore. “Oh no, we gotta hurry. I’m fifteen minutes away from losing my freedom.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I don’t show up with the cash by three, the landlord will give the room to someone else.” When I left after having bubble tea with Serafina two days ago, I headed straight to my dorm and dug up the outdated Renters Weekly. I’d never quite stopped thinking about that culinary student’s ad since I’d first read it. To my delight, the room was still available for immediate occupancy. Yes, the landlord was slightly eccentric, but that was more than made up for by a live-in chef, not to mention escape from the dorm on such short notice. If he wanted cash by three, he’d have it.
Besides, it wasn’t like I was allowed to make the man more accommodating with my magic.
“What’s the money for?” She frowned.
“It’s what the humans call the first and last. They’re big on insurance because they can’t employ Hire A Hellhound to chase down their debtors.” I’d exchanged most of the magical credits from my Becoming, the demonic version of the Bat Mitzvah, into human currency for the down payment. Thank Hades the co-op was a paying gig, or else no way would I be able to afford the rest of the rent for the four-month work term.
“Do all humans like to deal in cash?”
“I’m not sure. The landlord mumbled something about never trusting the banks and how it’s better to hide it under the bed.” I lugged the last bag into the trunk and closed it. “Alright, we’re all set.”
Esme turned her head towards the freshmen dorm in longing. Two years my senior, she’d enjoyed her time there and fit in like I’d never been able to. “Are you sure about this? Living off campus, amongst humans? I can’t recall if it’s ever been done.”
I chewed my lower lip, unable to put my need to move out into words. Esmeralda Kassandra Aequitas, a full-blooded, got-a-proper-middle-name vengeance demon, from her shiny red-scaled wings down to her effortlessly executed glamour to camouflage them, would never understand. Esme’s path was set and her future certain.
She wasn’t a socially unacceptable half-breed demon-wannabe, like me.
“Yes,” I said with as much firmness as I could without being rude. It would be nice to have a place where my mother could visit without dirty looks and jeers. I’d missed her easy and infectious laughter in the past year.
I used to laugh like that, embracing Mom’s heritage, finding sheer delights in all things trickery, from sending the mailman running with illusion of salivating bulldogs, to enchanting the ATM machine to display zero account balances for my neighbors. Complete random victimology was a trickster’s trademark. No targeted justice. No reasoning of merits. No guilt. Just the pure joy of pranking. Part of me missed that simplicity in my life, even though it was the exact thing about tricksters that had driven vengeance demons crazy since the beginning of time.
Esme considered me for a moment. Something on my face must’ve convinced her. She nodded. “Let’s go then.”
As the car zoomed off, the early summer breeze drifted through the rolled-down windows and kissed my cheek with the sweet scent of new beginnings. I leaned out and grinned like an idiot. After all this
time, I was finally free. Well, for a while anyway.
Living with humans was going to be a gamble, but it beat sure misery. There was even a chance that being amongst mortals might help my control issues. Since they had no magic to speak of, they wouldn’t be tempted to overuse what they never had.
The way I was tempted, every moment of my existence.
“Woo hoo!” I couldn’t help but chortle as we passed a group of witch majors. The broomsticks they were on jumped back on autopilot. I snickered.
Esme gave me a puzzled look. Guess she never quite got the concept of unadulterated joy, since it wasn’t exactly a vengeance demon trait. Clearing my throat, I made as if I was calling a bird.
She hesitated, then said, “Congratulations on getting Enid’s co-op approval.”
I straightened on my seat. I could feel the impression of her thoughts in my mind. And they reeked of reservation and doubt. “You’re wondering if I won it fair and square, aren’t you?”
“I didn’t say that.” Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
“But you thought it.” I crossed my arms. “I. Didn’t. Use. Trickery.”
Esme’s shoulders relaxed. “You didn’t?”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.” I shifted my weight and drummed my fingers on the side window panel. Now I was getting a bit annoyed. My former lightheartedness vanished like dew drops in the first morning rays. True to my trickster nature, my mood could change like quicksand sometimes.
Face reddened, Esme said nothing.
Seconds that felt like minutes went by.
“Tell me when you see the portal entrance, alright?” Esme asked quietly, cutting through our awkward silence with a subdued gentleness that vengeance demons generally looked down upon. I slowly released the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. My half-sister might not have believed in me a hundred percent, but here she was, giving me a ride for the move, ignoring the nasty things her friends had no doubt said about me. It meant something. And I should stick with that.
“Maybe a bit farther down. I think it’s shifted again.”
“Okay.”