Perilous Waters

by Diana Paz

  Her mother’s pale blue eyes had been laced with sorrow and worry when she came to pick her up. Her father only frowned when she explained that the magic had teleported her, and that she had appeared in the middle of a crowd of drunk kids. Angie had left out the details about what the kids had done to her, giving her parents half-truths about someone spilling beer on her by accident. She hadn’t wanted her parents to worry any more than they already did, but not telling them the full truth weighed heavily on her. A lie of omission was still a lie. She had never deceived her parents before. She stared at her hands in her lap, wondering why she had done so tonight.

  The entire drive home Angie kept her head lowered, overwhelmed by shame and embarrassment. Shame at her inability to escape her situation without resorting to dark magic, and embarrassment over what Ashleigh and the others had done to her. Why did they hate her so much? What had she done to make them act like this?

  Maybe it had been a test by the Fates. If so, she had failed miserably. She had only been a Daughter of Fate for three months and she was already employing dark magic… spells discovered by the Sorceress when she was still a priestess to the Fates. Spells the Sorceress had used, along with the Jewels of Time, to try and create a world of humans enslaved to the will of the priestesses.

  In the stillness of her bedroom, before she could turn the light on, her fingers began tapping against each other. Dark was better. She didn’t want to see herself in the mirror, covered in beer and filth. Her fingers tapped more quickly. She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to stay still. The evening’s events replayed in her mind at high speed, repeating and repeating until her mind was left in a tailspin. She stood for minutes in the darkness, not thinking and at the same time, thinking too much.

  She had no idea how long she remained that way before finally forcing her feet forward. It felt as though her senses had been set on extreme sensitivity and she couldn’t find a way to bring them back to normal. She felt every fiber in the carpet beneath her feet. She heard her breath like a jet intake and her heart like a freight train’s roar.

  Safe. She took another step forward, willing herself not to feel the threads of her ripped and ruined pajamas, or notice the throbbing muscles where ruthless hands had bruised her flesh. I’m safe now. But monsters, demons, David. No. David is safe. Everything is okay. Fresh tears sprung to her eyes as she longed for the warmth of his arms.

  It was soothing to have one normal person in her life. David had nothing to do with the magic. He loved her. He cared about her and she cared about him. She knew she could count on him no matter what, and being there when he needed her made her happy inside.

  All of these thoughts rolled through her like a warm, gentle tide, washing her clean of the harrowing events of the evening almost completely. The next time she saw David, she would hug him as tightly as her arms let her. She would caress his face and rest her cheek against his chest, just listening to the sound of his strong heart.

  Angie made her way to the bathroom, knowing the peace she felt was only an illusion. The fact that the Sorceress would use David to hurt her was a constant icy weight inside of her. She pressed her lips together and forced the thought from her mind.

  She pulled back the shower curtain, not bothering to turn on the light before twisting the handle to send hot water through the faucet. Moments later she stood in a spray of near-scalding water. She scrubbed herself clean of the beer that had been poured over her, foaming herself with vanilla scented body wash until her body stung where fingernails and sand had scraped her.

  Her skin was wrinkled and warm to the touch as she curled on her side beneath her blanket in a fresh set of pajamas, trying hard not to think about how it felt to be held down, to hear those awful things.

  She wanted to sleep and forget that this terrible night had ever happened, but counting to a hundred didn’t calm her. In the morning, would those drunken kids realize what they had done to her? Her eyes squeezed shut at the nauseous feeling that swooped through her. She would deny it. She would cast Disremember if any of them said anything about it. It would be too humiliating to face them with so much shame burning in her eyes.

  There wouldn’t be any sleep tonight. With another deep, shaky breath she pushed herself up on her elbow. The clock on her nightstand showed it was nearly three in the morning.

  She lifted her hand and used a trace of magic to brush aside the curtain of her bed as she sat up. The glow of her spell left a soft trail of light along the fabric. She could light up the room, if she wanted to. She could light up the whole house, she thought, sitting on the edge of the bed, but even lighting up the world wouldn’t keep this vision away.

  Her nose stung and her lashes grew damp again. In the moonlight filtering from her lace-curtained window, she watched her toe make a figure eight on her carpet. Her face grew soaked with streams of hopelessness as her fingers tapped out their ceaseless rhythm along the hem of her nightshirt. Her gaze fell on her old school lunch bag, sitting where she always left it on the cushioned bench built against the window. The glitter she used to love when she was a little girl shimmered faintly from the bag, reflecting starlight.

  She walked to the bathroom again, turning on the faucet in the dark to scrub the fresh tears from her face before settling on her favorite spot, the cushioned window seat where she often read. Her cell phone sat on her nightstand, glowing dimly as it charged. Calling David would make her feel better, but should she tell him about what happened at the beach? How could she, when she would have to explain to him how she had ended up there in the first place?

  Her gaze remained locked on her phone as she twisted the edge of her pajama top. David was a night owl, especially in summer… she could call him. Maybe this was the night her secret should finally be revealed. The idea of having no more secrets between them brought a rush of happiness to her heart. She hopped up and dashed across the room to take the phone, then sat back down in her spot, holding the phone to her lips, her pulse speeding up at the thought of calling him.

  She shook her head. David was okay. Calling him at three in the morning to make herself feel better would be selfish.

  But… maybe she could send him a text just to see if he was still awake.

  Hi there, she tapped out on her phone. Are you awake?

  Angie blinked at the text, her fingertip poised above the “send” button. She set down her phone without sending, reaching for her lunch bag instead. She had taken to keeping cookies in it, for nightmare emergencies. If the past was any indication, she would spend the rest of the night playing word scramble games and listening to music, then crash right before dawn. This would be a problem tomorrow when she walked into work with dark circles under her eyes. Her summer job as a camp counselor meant that she had twelve little kids who counted on her to have fun and take care of them, and coffee could only keep her alert for so long without sleep. She had to figure out a spell to help her stop having these visions, especially now that they sent her bodily out of her home.

  A stomach full of cookies was one way to start feeling sleepy. As she munched, she pulled her laptop closer to her. The log on screen flashed pale blue with white swirls and tiny flowers. She typed in her password. Various windows opened on their own, and she clicked them closed, preferring not to see so much clutter on her screen.

  Her Messenger window blinked. Pending Friend Request.

  She frowned, clicking it open to see who it was. “David?” she whispered, moving the cursor across the screen to the accept button. “Since when do you have Messenger?”

  You’re here! His avatar showed up, a mouse wearing sunglasses holding a basketball.

  “Silly,” she whispered, then typed, Hi there!

  A small animated pencil moved, indicating that he was writing his response. What are you doing up so late? He asked.

  Her smile broadened as she immediately relaxed. Thinking about you, she typed, and seeing those words made her cheeks feel warm and her heart grow warmer. She pulled his
picture up on her laptop from her file of David-things. Brown hair fell in a shag over bright blue eyes and a heart-meltingly sweet smile.

  He sent her an emoticon of a heart with wings. She hid her laughter against her hands, not wanting to wake her parents. Being forcibly teleported to a mob of jerks now ranked among the worst nights of her life, but somehow, David still managed to make her smile.

  ~ Chapter 2 ~

  Kaitlyn

  Kaitlyn sneered at the handcuffed man staring at her, letting her eyes glow white for a moment. She enjoyed the flash of horror on his face, wondering if she should send him a bolt of burning magic for good measure. Her hand lifted, a ball of bright energy swirling in her palm. She let her sneer become a vicious grin. Power. It was so very lovely. The more she had, the more she wanted. Before she could release her magic, the terrified man was hauled off by police to another room.

  Kaitlyn pulled a pout, sending her magic across the room anyway, causing the lights to flicker wildly amidst a spray of electricity. This would be the last time she set foot in a police station, she thought, as employees scrambled about to figure out what had caused a light bulb to explode. From now on, she would handle things with her magic.

  Bored, she turned, leaning her back against the counter as her father signed another set of forms and handed them back to the officer. Her mother waited in the car, though Kaitlyn didn’t know why she had bothered coming. It wasn’t as if she cared.

  “You were very lucky,” her father said as they left the building. “That man is a registered sex offender.”

  “I can take care of myself.” As soon as she got in the car she tossed the ice pack aside. That guy hadn’t stood a chance against her. Not really.

  “Restore,” she said, not bothering to lower her voice for her mother’s sake. Her mother never paid attention to anything she did, anyway.

  The mark on her arm glowed, shifting from gold to bright white. Magic flooded her chest as her split lip sealed itself shut. “Restore,” she said again, holding her hand over her swollen eye as her father entered the driver’s side. Immediately the pain vanished and her face returned to normal. Except for the scar lining her cheek from mouth to ear. But magic couldn’t fix that wound. Nothing could.

  “The guy beat her up pretty bad,” her father said.

  “As if it isn’t terrible enough that she got herself that scar across her face,” her mother said, turning on the car’s ceiling light. “Let me see you.”

  Kaitlyn remained motionless beneath her mother’s scrutiny.

  “She’ll have a black eye—” her father froze. He blinked. “Your eye was swollen almost shut at the police station.”

  “What are you talking about?” her mother snapped. “Her eyes are perfect.”

  “I’m telling you, her face was beaten. It’s in the police report.”

  Kaitlyn laughed at the two of them. “Maybe it was magic.”

  “Really, Kaitlyn,” her mother said as her father started the car.

  She crossed her arms and set her gaze out the window. “Yes, really,” she echoed. Really magic, but you never listen to a word I say, much less believe me.

  They headed home in stony silence. Kaitlyn wished she still had friends to text. This would be a kick ass story to talk about. There were always her new set of boy toys, but they weren’t really people to talk to. They were just there. Objects to play with when she felt bored enough to bother.

  “Honey, I’m worried about you,” her father said.

  His tone seemed sincere. It startled her, setting her momentarily off-balance. Whatever. The time for worrying about her was gone. No one needed to worry about her because there was nothing that could hurt her anymore. Not words, not her family, and certainly not idiots who thought that because they were bigger than her, they could do whatever they felt like doing.

  “You shouldn’t have been at a place like that,” he continued. “What do you expect is going to happen if you go out dressed like this, anyway?”

  Despite his gentle tone, something hot and bright sliced through her. What did she expect? “So it’s my fault that guy tried to rape me?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Your father just wants to keep you safe,” her mother chimed in.

  Kaitlyn laughed. Her mother. What a trip. Her mother was quick to speak up for everyone else, but when Kaitlyn had come to her with the truth, the sick, sad truth about what her uncle did while he babysat her, there was no speaking up for her, then. There was nothing but vast, deafening silence.

  “You’re a very pretty girl,” her father said, and the softly-spoken words got under her skin. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, and if you go out to scummy places dressed like that, you’re asking for trouble.”

  Kaitlyn kept her features carefully neutral. It had been stupid of her to go alone. The truth of it bothered her more than anything else that happened, but she wasn’t going to let her father see that she understood this. Half of the population on Earth had to constantly worry about how they acted, what they wore, who they attracted, because so many men were sickos. After another moment she let out an audible, annoyed sound from the back of her throat. “It’s a dance club,” she said blithely. “Everyone dresses like this.”

  “Yet everyone doesn’t get attacked,” her mother said. “It’s not only the way you dress. It’s your behavior. You’re asking for this sort of thing to happen to you.”

  Kaitlyn bit back the hot words that leapt to her tongue as they pulled into the garage. She rushed out of the car, slamming the door behind her. “You’re both so full of it. You should be making me feel better. You should be taking my side. A guy tries to rape me and I get a lecture about how men can’t see someone in a short skirt and thigh-highs without dragging her by the hair and having sex with her.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying at all,” her father boomed.

  “It’s what it sounds like,” she yelled back, refusing to be cowed. She glared up at him, wishing she were taller so she could hover over him the way he did to her. But she wouldn’t retreat from him—not anymore—and he knew it.

  Keep yelling at me. Throw something against a wall. Try to bully me into submission, she threatened silently. I told you I would run away. I told you I would leave and never come back. Give me a reason to do it.

  He withdrew, his face growing ashen. “I tell you this because I care about you.”

  The sound of defeat in his voice did nothing to soften her heart. She wanted to tell him to go to hell. Instead she stormed into the house and up the stairs.

  “This is the real world,” her mother called up after her. “Whether you like it or not, and you have to deal with it.”

  She raced to her bedroom and slammed the door shut so hard that her floor to ceiling closet mirrors rattled. She saw her reflection a moment: jet-black hair that fell in glossy layers, framing a face that would be flawless if not for the scar carved across her cheek, from the corner of her mouth to her ear. Her eyes glowed fluorescent green beneath her bangs, her chest rose and fell rapidly in her black, skin-tight corset, laced in crimson ribbons that matched her lips.

  She whirled from the furious image, her pleated black mini flaring above matching thigh-highs trimmed in blood-red bows. She wanted to tell her mother where she could shove it, but she and her mother were too expert at hurting each other, and all she really wanted was for her to stop. Stop lecturing, stop judging, stop expecting Kaitlyn to be the perfect little girl her mother wanted the world to see.

  Anger blurred her vision until tears spilled over. She felt a rage engulf her like the kinds she used to have when she was little, leaving broken toys and clothes scattered across her room. But the people who had hurt her were never the ones to suffer for it, only the maid, who whispered things under her breath in Spanish, as if Kaitlyn didn’t understand every word of it.

  She threw herself on her bed and kicked the wall. She wanted to blast the room with magic and tear it to shreds. She wanted to let out the h
ate she had for the world, for her parents, for herself for being so full of ugliness. She just wanted to get out of high school and leave them forever. She couldn’t wait to be free, once and for all.

  ~ Chapter 3 ~

  Julia

  Julia took a nice, long sip of her caramel ice-blended coffee. Bliss. She adjusted her pillow and flipped through the channels on her small TV, looking for something with action or superheroes to watch.

  “Sweet,” she whispered as a team of awesomely geared men and women raced across the screen. She rolled onto her stomach, almost dripping whipped cream on her pillow. Foam drizzled from the opening in the cup’s plastic cap. The caramel-ribboned cream was too tempting, and she licked it right off.

  Her phone gave off a soft, tinkling chime.

  Angie… she winced. Angie had been trying to get Julia to build up her magical knowledge since she had first marked her with the power of the Fates last year. The huge stack of leather-bound books glared at her from the corner of her room like a prison warden ready to beat her with the boredom stick. She was supposed to learn about the creatures and understand more about the previous Daughters and other crap like that.

  It wasn’t that Julia didn’t want to learn, it was just that she usually learned better by doing things, not by reading about doing things.

  So far, she hadn’t finished any of the books. Technically, she hadn’t started them. Those books were freaking huge, and why did the magic of the Fates have to include homework and a summer reading program?

  “Ugh,” she whispered when her phone chimed again. She checked the messages, even though she already knew what they would say. Something along the lines of… Hi Julia! Are you ready for the next set of old, moldy, super-long books that you can only read if you use so much magic you almost pass out, since they’re written in ancient Greek? If the first set bored you to tears, get ready to cry a river. Yay, reading!