by Lola Taylor
Her foot found the cool iron railing, and she jumped, preparing to shift during the fall and land on four paws.
An invisible force, sticky and sweet smelling, yanked her back mid-leap. With a strangled cry, she was pulled back into the room, suspended above her bed by delicate, glowing silver threads. Her body would barely move. She grunted, pulling with all her might. It felt as if she’d been caught in a spiderweb.
Soft heels clicked closer as Penelope strode toward her, staring at her with those damnable silver eyes.
Alara’s heart rate accelerated. She thrashed more wildly. “Help!” she screamed. Nik!
“No one can hear you. I cast a soundproofing spell over the room before I came in here. Oh, and don’t bother calling for your mate. The spell mutes your mate-bond as well.”
Fury rolled through her. She would have asked, “What do you want?” if it hadn’t been kind of obvious. “You can’t have me, monster,” she spat instead. “I won’t let you take me.”
Penelope stepped onto the bed, reaching up to cup Alara’s face.
Alara snarled, flinching away, but Penelope’s warm hand stubbornly followed. “Sssh,” Penelope cooed. The doppelgänger was getting better at imitating her. If not for those silver eyes, Alara would have had a hard time telling the difference at this point. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Penelope said.
“You’re lying. You want to take me over.”
“I want to borrow you,” Penelope corrected.
“Is there a difference?” Alara said bitterly, refusing to look away, refusing to be cowed by this thing.
Penelope’s hand dropped away. “There’s a very large difference. I only need you for a short period of time.”
Oh, that makes it so much better. “For what purpose?”
“That I cannot tell you.”
“Of course you can’t. And what if I refuse?”
“It will be easier if you don’t struggle,” Penelope cautioned. “I’m going to do this anyway, with or without your permission. I just feel…” She looked away for a moment. “Less guilty knowing it’s okay.”
“It’s okay?” Alara laughed hysterically. “It’s never okay to force someone out of their body!”
“I wouldn’t be forcing you out,” the doppelgänger said defensively. Or rather, Penelope said. “I just said you can have your body back once I’ve completed my task.”
“And what task is that?” When the thing didn’t speak, Alara snapped, “Tell me! I have a right to know!”
“I want to stop Mistress Black.”
Alara froze, staring. “You’re lying.”
“Doppelgängers are descended from the ancient Fey. We cannot lie.” She grinned. “Though we can twist the truth more easily than our fairy brethren.”
“So you could still be technically lying.”
“No, I just might not tell the truth in a way you want to hear it.”
That monotone voice, speaking in riddles, in that twisting, winding way of hers. Of course doppelgängers were Fey. Why didn’t she see it before?
Probably because you’ve never met a fairy before.
She’d heard stories—terrible, dark tales of teeth and wings and luminous eyes. None ended well.
Her heartbeat, so strong and swift, felt like the only sensation anchoring her to her body. The moment felt so surreal. “Back in the dungeon you said you were running from Mistress Black. Is that true?”
“Yes,” the doppelgänger answered instantly.
“Why?”
Alara didn’t think she was going to answer. “Mistress Black captured me once she realized what I was and what I could do. She made me her slave.”
“How?”
“Through magic. How else?” she said dryly.
“But you got away.”
“Yes. Barely. It almost cost me my life. I managed to slip into the body of one of the witches from her inner circle.”
“Inner circle?”
“She surrounds herself with twelve powerful paranormals: witches, warlocks, Fey, werewolves, vampires.” She shivered. “And a demon.”
Alara swallowed hard, her throat turning to ice. “So you took over a witch. Then what?”
“I used her powers to break the tracking and binding spells on me. Mistress Black had cast them so I wouldn’t be able to escape her lair, and if I did, she could always find me.”
“But not anymore.”
“Not yet.”
“What do you mean not yet?”
She sighed. “She’s hunting me. I’ve been outrunning her spies, jumping from body to body. But she’s catching up. The only way for me to be free of her is to get rid of her.”
“How?” Alara leaned forward against her bonds. “How do you kill her?”
The doppelgänger regarded her silently, and Alara knew she would get no more.
Unless she…
For an irrational moment, she started to consider letting the doppelgänger take control of her body. Her anger and despair begged her to. That witch needed to pay. Hadn’t Alara said she’d pay any price to get her revenge?
Then there was the idea of letting someone else take control for a while. Not having to think, not having to feel… it sounded like Heaven compared to the hell she’d endured this past month.
There was one problem—Nik.
The thought of leaving him behind, of not registering the gentleness of his touch or the fire of his kiss. It made her want to cry.
“No.”
The doppelgänger blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“No,” Alara said more forcefully, staring the doppelgänger down. “You can’t use me. It’s not okay to take someone else’s body.”
The doppelgänger smiled softly. There was a hint of admiration in her silvery eyes. “And as I said, you won’t have a choice.”
Alara opened her mouth to speak again, but she never got a chance to.
Penelope raised her arms and opened her mouth wide. Black, shimmering lines shot out of her fingertips, mouth, and eyes.
Alara had a fraction of a second to realize what was happening before the magic choked out all breath and thought. It crammed itself into her eyes, her mouth, her ears—everywhere. She gagged on it, thrashing around as she literally drowned on Black Magic.
Her lungs began to scream for air.
Oh God. Was she dying?
No. No, not like this. Nik!
Frantic, she tried calling out for her mate once more through their mate-bond. Her cries were met with silence.
Nik’s handsome face—the mischievous sparkle to his eyes and wicked tilt of his grin—was the last thing she thought of before blacking out.
She was alone. Unlike before in her dream, the darkness here was cold and foreign. There was no Izzy to warm her with thoughts of sunshine and better days, no hope of going back to the life she once had at the manor with Nik.
A life, in retrospect, which was wonderful, even if her family was dead.
Wake up, a cool, slithering voice whispered. It echoed in the void, seemingly all around her.
Groaning, she came to. The world blurred and then came into focus. She was lying on the bed. Well, mostly on it. One leg and arm dangled off the side, and her temple throbbed. She reached up to touch her forehead, wincing. The skin was tender. Sitting up, she looked at herself in the gilded mirror hanging over their bed. A new bruise had formed above her left eye. She must have hit her head on the headboard when—
She drew a blank. What had just happened?
She paused. No, she couldn’t remember what she’d been doing.
How did she get in here? She remembered preparing for a party to honor the High King and Queen, going to the woods with Nik… and then nothing.
Growling in frustration, she concluded that her brain must be too groggy from exhaustion to be of much use. Stumbling out of bed on shaky legs, she started toward the bathroom when she tripped over something and nearly hit the ground. Catching herself on the footboard, she whirled around.
Alara drew completely still. “Penelope?”
The White Witch lay sprawled on the hardwood floor, limbs in disarray as if she had collapsed.
A flash of something—a memory?—went through Alara’s mind.
Penelope standing in the doorway.
Alara making a mad dash out to the balcony, only to be snatched back inside by magic.
Alara silently screaming as Black Magic poured itself into her.
It all came back in a rush. “No,” Alara breathed, sinking to her knees and staring at Penelope.
Yes, came the slithering voice inside her head.
Alara shook her head, tears spilling over her eyelids. “No, no, no, no…” She bit back a sob, calming herself with deep breaths, and closed her eyes. Her fists clenched as anger swelled within her, and she commanded, “Get out of my head.”
I can’t, the doppelgänger said. Alara couldn’t tell if it was male or female. Its voice had both high and low pitches to it, as though it were many voices speaking at once. Once I’ve left a host, I cannot reenter it ever again.
Alara felt something poking and prodding in her brain. Memories, things that were a bit hazy because she hadn’t thought of them in years, resurfaced out of the blue.
She gasped.
That thing was digging through her most private thoughts and memories.
Faster and faster the doppelgänger sifted, as if cataloging her life, mannerisms, demeanor.
Learning to be her.
Revolted, Alara shouted internally, Stop!
The doppelgänger ignored her, continuing its invasion of Alara’s most intimate moments. Pictures of her family cascaded by—thoughts of lonely, cold birthday parties, warmer Christmases filled with her sister’s laughter, and dark thunderstorms spent trembling beneath her covers.
The thought of that vile creature laying its claws, fingers, or whatever the hell it had on her memories of Izzy was too much. Stay the hell away from my family, you bitch! Alara screamed. Reaching deep inside herself, she wrenched the memories free of the creature, locking them all away in a tight, impenetrable box.
At least, she hoped so. She didn’t know what this thing was capable of. Maybe there was no safe haven for her memories, not in her mind, anyway.
She felt the doppelgänger still, studying her. You’re stronger than I thought. No matter. Others have started out strong before, as well, but everyone gives up after a while.
I won’t. I will fight you every single damn day until I find a way to get rid of you for good.
Eerie, multitoned laughter danced about her head. Others have tried. They failed.
Again, I won’t.
The laughter died away. The doppelgänger inhaled deeply, and Alara shrank back.
How pathetic and strange. She was shrinking away from herself. How did you escape something like this? Something that had burrowed its way into your pores, the very essence of your being?
I can smell your anger, the doppelgänger said. Can feel its flames licking my skin. It burns as hot as I hoped it would. Excellent. I’m going to need that anger. It said this with the clinical detachment of someone evaluating a racehorse.
Alara almost couldn’t bring herself to ask, she was so nauseous with fright. What do you want from me?
Your cooperation, for starters. You help me, I help you. I will release you once this is done.
Once what is done?
Once we’ve stopped Mistress Black.
Alara wanted to believe it. But could she trust it? She was leaning toward “hell no.” This was a creature that had had centuries to practice the art of deceptive truths. A game Alara was no beginner at, thanks to her time at Court.
I can sense your doubt, the doppelgänger said. It sighed. I can’t blame you for not trusting me. But think for a moment, Alara. Don’t you want to release all that anger? Don’t you want to feel happy again?
A desperate yes almost popped out immediately, but she kept her mental mouth shut.
You should get rid of your anger, and soon. Because if you don’t, then believe me—it will devour you. Twist you into something dark and cruel.
Alara thought of early mornings spent with punching bags, imagining they were the faces of her enemies, of nearly choking out the doppelgänger’s last host in the dungeon if it didn’t tell her what it knew about how to find Mistress Black…
God, who was she becoming? This angry, vengeful person who knew no limits? It felt empowering and frightening at the same time.
Who did she want to be?
She remembered a woman, smiling and cuddling with her mate. A woman who loved him more than life itself and would do anything to be the mate—the queen—he deserved.
Happy, simple things. That was what she wanted.
So why couldn’t she just let her anger go? Did she really have to purge it, as the doppelgänger said?
Was there really no other choice?
Nik will be able to sense you’re here, Alara said absently. Inside me. She gulped, nearly throwing up as she acknowledged it.
My presence will be hidden from your mate. The mate-bond won’t be able to sense it.
What about her? Alara gestured to Penelope, who still lay unconscious on the floor.
Ah, the White Witch. She is powerful. And very useful. I almost used her body instead for my purpose.
So why didn’t you?
Because you want Mistress Black dead more than she does. For you, it’s personal. You’ll be more motivated to do as I ask.
Alara couldn’t argue with that logic, creepy as it might have been hearing someone talking to her inside her head. Knowing there was something inside of her.
She shivered, hugging herself. What happens to Penelope?
I can return her soul to her, though I’m reluctant to let it go. So useful. So powerful. It spoke with the fondness of one admiring a favorite pet. But I’ll only return her soul if you stop fighting me and just do as I ask.
What happens if you don’t return her soul?
She dies, the doppelgänger said simply, almost bored.
Alara’s heart skipped. She barely knew Penelope, maybe was even a little bit jealous of her. She was thin and powerful, both things Alara was not. She never seemed to gain a pound, while Alara struggled to keep the weight off. The smoky looks Penelope had thrown Nik hadn’t gone unnoticed, either.
No. No, she couldn’t let someone die over petty insecurities.
More so, the doppelgänger went on in a darker voice, if you don’t comply, I will ensure your entire pack, your mate—everyone you know and love—dies by your hand.
Alara stopped breathing. Izzy’s words, warning her she would destroy everything dear to her, flashed through her mind.
Was this what she was warning her about? To accept the doppelgänger’s presence or risk tearing her loved ones apart?
How do I know you’re not lying about Penelope? Alara asked, trying not to let her voice warble. Don’t doppelgängers kill their hosts by pushing out their souls?
Somehow, Alara knew the creature was rolling its eyes, even though she couldn’t see them. It was as if a shadow cloaked it. Or a veil. A long, sinewy veil, dark as midnight. The mythology surrounding my kind is laughable at times. Doppelgängers can never truly kill their hosts by just inhabiting them. We can’t push their souls out, though we can cage them in the host’s body. Getting rid of a soul entirely would be impossible for a doppelgänger. But not for something else.
Alara wondered if it meant a demon, perhaps.
She weighed her choices, the answer becoming unbearably clear. Staring at Penelope and feeling as if she suddenly weighed a ton, she said aloud in a deadened voice, “You can take my body.” Her eyes narrowed. “But I will never stop trying to fight you.”
You can try, the doppelgänger replied, unfazed. You’re strong, I’ll grant you that. But sooner or later, that strength will run out. Many find it easier—preferable, even—to just let me run their lives. It’s easier than the toil of living.
Was she strong enough to not ever give in? Would she eventually run out of hope, as other hosts had done?
Believe in yourself.
Izzy’s voice was soft but insistent, a spark of hope in the darkness. It fueled the growing fire of resistance inside Alara’s heart.
You swear you’ll leave my loved ones unharmed, you’ll return Penelope to her original state, and you’ll release me once we’ve stopped Mistress Black?
Of course. Almost as soon as the words were uttered, Alara’s hands rose of their own accord. She gaped at them, feeling like a puppet being led about by strings.
Let’s wake our little witch up, shall we? the doppelgänger said sweetly.
Alara felt a rush of power gather at her fingers. Black Magic crackled around her hands in purple and black sparks. She stared in horror as the magic swelled, darkening and thickening until it was a writhing, globby mess.
Don’t, she said, trying to stop it, but it was no use. Terrified, she scrambled to regain control of her body, staring in horror at the terrible magic growing in her hands. Stop!
You made your choice. Live with it, the doppelgänger said.
The magic exploded from her hands, driving itself into Penelope. Her spine arched, and her eyes snapped open, her pupils tiny dots within a glowing sea of white. Her mouth had opened in a silent scream as the magic surged along her body.
Through the magic, Alara felt the cage around Penelope’s soul begin to quake.
The doppelgänger was keeping its word. It was breaking the cage, releasing Penelope.
Sweat broke out along Alara’s brow, and a wave of ice washed through her. Her vision began to turn black—she was going to pass out.
I… can’t…
Just a little bit more, the doppelgänger insisted.
Alara heard a snap, felt Penelope’s soul break free. The witch’s body fell to the ground, lying still, the subtle rise and fall of her stomach the only sign she was alive.
The magic abruptly sucked back up into Alara, and her body began to spasm, short-circuited by the magic it wasn’t used to invoking.