Stolen Secret

by Emily Kimelman Gilvey

  “At ease,” Ophelia said to her. Pinky did not take her red eyes off me, but her hand loosened, falling to her side in a show of relaxation that was just that—a show. Pinky’s aura stayed tense and alert. She was ready to die for Ophelia. Ready to die to end me.

  “Hey.” I waved a hand. Awkward….

  “Why have you come here?” Ophelia asked. She stayed hunkered under the blanket, her breath steaming.

  “I wanted to talk.” I took a tentative step forward. Pinky tensed. I stopped.

  Ophelia sighed. “You always want to talk. Boring.”

  “Sorry, I’m not dead set on killing you.” Anger tried to rise its ugly head in my gut, tried to shout jealous, crazy words. But I took a deep breath and instead of clenching around the rage, I opened my lungs and let it out.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You have changed in just the short time we’ve known each other.” Known each other? Um, seems like we don’t know each other so much as try to kill each other.

  “You showed me my power in that desert,” I said. And I figured out how to stop the zombies.

  “Did I?”

  “May I sit.” I gestured to a stone outcropping near her. Ophelia nodded. Pinky moved back, ceding me space.

  A dark hearth sat between us. With a wave of her hand, Ophelia set a flame burning—there was no wood, no fuel, just fire.

  “You know you cannot kill me,” I said as I settled onto the stone.

  “I must try or die.”

  “If you try, you will die. I am more powerful than you. We both know it. Don’t make me kill you.”

  “Should I make my mother kill me?”

  “Do you have to die?”

  “It is my destiny.”

  Fuck destiny. “What if we could control our own destiny, our own lives?”

  She snorted. “You have grown but not learned. It is all written.”

  “Where?” I asked. Always good to be practical.

  “In the stars. In the storms. In the winds. There is nothing but a circle of time, repeating, repeating, always repeating.” She watched the flames of her own creation, her voice slowly fading away.

  “I don’t think so.”

  She laughed, a harsh and bitter sound. “You are a child.”

  “And you’re a shifter who can’t even shift.” Ophelia raised her gaze to mine, a smile playing across her lips. I preferred this joking Ophelia to the one staring morosely into her fire, sad about her fate. “What if you did something different this time?” I asked.

  “This time?” She sat back, leaning on her elbows, her chest exposed. Pinky stood behind her glaring at me.

  I raised my gaze to meet the red, glowing eyes of the pixie. She snarled at me, showing off those purple fangs, but dropped her eyes when I did not look away.

  I could drain her. My chi pulsed inside of me, hungry to take command. But I was more than my instincts. Maybe we had played this same scene a million times, and maybe we would a million more. But right now, there was only this moment. And that’s all there would ever be.

  I refused to lose my humanity and let my hunger for power drive my actions. Just because I could control the pixie didn’t mean I would. Certainly didn’t mean I should.

  “Share your blood with me,” I said, bringing my gaze back to Ophelia.

  Her eyes flicked to mine. “My blood?”

  “Let’s break this curse. End it.” I dropped my voice, made it deep, made it vibrate with purpose.

  She shook her head. “It’s not a curse; it’s a gift.”

  “A wedding gift, so you mentioned.” I sat back, mirroring her casual pose. “Explain.” The fireflies made a skittering noise. The flames in the hearth hissed. My breath steamed.

  Ophelia’s lips tightened. “Do you know who my father was?”

  “A shifter god, or something like that.” I didn’t know how accurate the Warlock Society’s information was, better to get it from the source.

  “A centaur warlock who turned himself into a deity. His name was Felix.”

  Don’t say anything about how that sounds like a pet cat. Do. Not. Say. It. “Impressive lineage.”

  She smirked. “Father drew massive power from his coupling with my mother. She loved him deeply.” Ophelia cupped her hands, and light flickered into a figure—half man and half horse.

  I sat forward to stare at the mirage in her palms. I assumed it was her father—Felix.

  The centaur had a broad chest, bulky shoulders, a thick neck, and blond hair that fell in thick waves down his human back to meet fur-covered withers. His horse half was bay in color with a tail the same hue as his hair.

  Felix’s face was more elegant than the rest of him; a small nose, wide set blue-green eyes, and pouty lips. His body looked made for war, his face for romance.

  “Felix had magic in his blood—more than the average centaur. He could cast spells and work curses. He knew my mother’s complaints of the humans.” The image in her hands shifted. A factory, its long stacks pumping out dark smoke, appeared. The scent of burning plastic rose from her palms.

  The fireflies became restless, their skittering pitching up.

  A city cloaked in smog replaced the smoke stacks, the image shifted to the ocean, lapping at a beach thick with debris. “He wanted to marry my mother, but after what happened with you know who”—she must mean Emmanuel’s father—“she was understandably gun shy. So father, he worked a spell.” The image changed again, returning to Felix, but now he stood in a sacred space, a pentagram on the floor, candles glowing on altars around him.

  A knife glinted in the firelight, and he pulled it across his forearm, opening the skin. Blood poured into a cauldron.

  The image shifted to a corner where a chained young woman huddled, watching Felix. The white night shirt she wore was ripped and smudged with dirt, her eyes wide with terror.

  A man covered in gold tattoos appeared and picked up the terrified woman. She struggled, her screams silent. I shivered, her fear trickling down my spine.

  Felix stirred the cauldron, his lips moving. “Is he singing?” I asked.

  Ophelia’s gaze jumped to mine. The image in her hand disintegrating into nothing. Oops.

  “Singing?” she asked, sitting up taller. Pinky shifted, her aura brightening.

  “Don’t warlocks chant to twist spells?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Ophelia answered. “But you didn’t say chanting. You said singing.”

  I shrugged, trying to keep it all super casual. Yeah, that’s gonna work. “Chanting, singing, it’s basically the same thing.”

  “No. It’s not.”

  I had no response. The scent of burning plastic still lingered in the air, mixing with the earthy scent of wet stone. “How do you do that?” I asked, gesturing to her hands. “Make scenes appear.”

  “I am both a witch and a warlock. My powers are unique.”

  “Hey, me too. I mean the uniqueness of my powers.” Speaking of which… “Looks like your dad had some special talents as well. What happened next?”

  “Do not tell her,” Pinky said around her fangs.

  “Silence,” Ophelia commanded, not looking at Pinky. The pixie made a small sound, and I glanced up at her. Oh no she did not. Pinky’s mouth was gone. Straight up gone.

  Ophelia laughed but anger and regret wafted off of her in thick reddish brown clouds. “You are so innocent.” Her booted feet touched the ground, and she stood, the fur wrap falling off her shoulders. A shot of silver crackled through her aura, changing the color to something misty and unformed—a grey white fog of energy. “You won’t ever leave this world.” She grinned, the white morphing into silver, and hardening into determination.

  “You can’t end me,” I said. “Taking away her mouth is nasty. But it doesn’t give you power over me. Just makes you a bitch.”

  Ophelia lashed out with her energy, but it just blew over me—like a spring breeze, bitch. Her eyes narrowed. I stood. “Don’t,” I warned.

  “One of us will die here t
oday.”

  We were six feet apart. The fireflies flared with light, brightening the corners of the cave, illuminating the low and narrow corners.

  “Neither of us is dying today.” It was a promise. To her and to me.

  Pinky crouched, unsheathing her sword. Mouth or no mouth, she was ready to fight.

  A low hiss filled the space, and Ophelia began to laugh. The fire flared, and I stepped back from the intense heat. “I can’t kill you,” Ophelia said. “You’re right that I am not strong enough. Now that you’ve recognized your abilities, I can’t hit you, hurt you… kill you. But I can still become you.”

  The hissing grew louder, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. Suki made that same sound in Crescent City when she manifested a snack to explode zombies with… which meant… Oh crap.

  The flames of the fire grew taller and blurred red. They danced, sputtering toward the ceiling of the cave, swaying back and forth.

  I backed up further, centering myself. I can always jump universes if I need to. I wet my lips and kept my hands loose at my sides.

  Pinky’s wings beat, adding a fluttering sound to the hissing from the fire and the skittering of the fireflies. Homey. Pinky rose up, hovering at the roof, sword gripped in both hands and held in front of her.

  Within the flames of the fire, a figure materialized. Similar to the way Ophelia brought imagery to her hands. Except this thing looked very real.

  A snake body coiled among the flame—red, black, and bright yellow scales in diamond patterns covered the bottom half. The top was a naked woman… Suki. But not Suki. This was Seventh Force again. They are one now. Emmanuel’s words came back to me.

  The tail pushed her forward, and the flames settled as she slithered onto the stone floor. I hopped up on the stone ledge I’d been sitting on and backed away. Suki laughed, the sound distorted by the fangs pushing at her lips and the twin-pronged tongue that flicked out of her mouth.

  She no longer wore the turban I’d always seen her in. Now the hair was slicked to her head, scaled over almost, but with bits of brown still coming through.

  Her face, that elegant nose and jawline, looked almost the same—except the tongue. Her shoulders were scaled in yellow but faded into what looked like her regular skin. Her breasts were exposed, so very human.

  I shuddered when I met her gaze. The pupils ran from top to bottom in iridescent green irises—not human at all. Her hands ended in fingers elongated and capped with black claws that curled in toward the palms.

  I threw up a protection circle around myself, my magic thick and strong. Power pulsed inside of me, begging to be released. Needing to kill them all.

  Steady. Steady. I am not a murderer.

  “Suki, or should I call you Seventh Force?” I said, impressed with how casual I sounded considering her transformation. I was starting to get the hang of this being totally shocked and appalled by some new twist in my life… and reality.

  “Darling,” she hissed, slithering closer and stopping at the ledge. “You are afraid of me.”

  “You look like shit.”

  She laughed again. Pinky zipped to the doorway and hung in the air—as if I was going to make a run for it. I don’t need doors.

  Ophelia began to chant, her voice melodic. I glanced at her. She held a blue ball of light in her hands. Our eyes met. “Sorry,” she said inside my head. “It was you or me. And I have to choose me. I have to choose my mother.”

  As her voice grew louder, the ball moved from her hands and floated toward me.

  Seventh slithered up onto the outcropping, her powerful tail propelling her. Okay, time to go.

  I dug my chi into the void, but before I disintegrated, the blue ball of energy arrowed into my gut. My breath expelled in a puff of steam. Cold seeped into me. My power!

  I stumbled back, my head hitting the ceiling. I put my hand against the angled wall above my head. The cold penetrated me.

  I closed my eyes to get a better picture of what was happening to my diamond center. It was still there, but a blue ball covered it. Like an ice wall. I could not access it. But it wasn’t gone. They could never reach it.

  I opened my eyes.

  They couldn’t kill me.

  I pushed off the wall, ready to take a licking and keep on ticking.

  This was going to hurt.

  Seventh stopped when she reached me. She opened her mouth to speak, and I punched out, hitting her in the jaw. Ouch! Seventh’s head snapped and blood bloomed on her lip. I dove to the side. Turned out I did want to use that door. Hubris.

  Seventh lashed out with her tail, knocking me off the ledge. I hit the cave floor and rolled. The cold bit at me. My fingers were numb already.

  Silver lining: it wouldn’t hurt so much when I punched that fanged pixie in the mouth…. Oh right, she didn’t have one anymore.

  I got to my feet, keeping my knees bent and hands out to the side. Searching inside myself, I found that ice block. How could I break it?

  Seventh was off the ledge, only a few feet from me. I scampered back. The fireflies on the ceiling went out, sinking us into utter blackness. Awesomesauce.

  Seventh’s energy—the same phosphorous emerald green as the back side of a zombie’s eye—came at me.

  Seventh’s clawed hands pierced my shoulders. I screamed as warm blood poured down my arms.

  The fireflies flicked back on, strobing.

  Seventh’s mouth opened wide. Fangs extended, glistening in a flash of light. The twin prongs of her tongue whipped out. Darkness descended again. Her tongue lapped at the tears on my cheek. The light came back on. “I’ve always loved the taste of tears,” she lisped around the fangs.

  My chi remained locked in my center. She’d kill me if I didn’t do something fast. The cave went black again.

  When the lights came back she was reared back, mouth wide; venom dripped from one fang. The fireflies darkened. Fangs sank deep into my shoulder. Searing pain radiated through my entire body.

  I shook, the poison working quickly.

  “Goodbye.” She released me, and I crumpled.

  I dropped to the ground and through it, falling into the void. Suspended in nothing and everything, my body did not hurt, my mind did not worry. I did not exist.

  My physical self reformed and landed in a heap against a padded surface. I blinked—my eyelids made of sandpaper.

  In front of me was a metal door with a small, square glass window in it. I swallowed and coughed. My chest hurt. The pain from the venom did not burn as it had before the void. I pushed off the wall—vinyl white with thick pads behind it. My hand left a bloody smear.

  Did Seventh put me in this prison?

  I stumbled to stand, wobbled, and reaching out, leaned against the wall again. My head hung down, but my hair did not shroud my face. My feet were bare. I wore pale blue scrubs.

  I touched my head, meeting a shorn scalp. What the what? When I brought it back down, fresh blood stained my fingers.

  I glanced at my shoulders where Seventh’s claws tore into me. They were healed. I pulled at the scrubs neckline. No snake bite.

  Footsteps in the hall drew my attention.

  A face appeared in the window. Dimitri. Relief surged through me. He’d know what was going on.

  I stepped toward the door but dizziness overwhelmed me. I reached out and fell onto a single bed. Blood dripped onto the white sheets. I must have hit my head when I entered this world.

  The thunk of a heavy lock disengaging sounded, and then the door swung open. “Dimitri,” I said, looking up.

  He looked alive. His skin was sun-kissed, and his hair long around the ears. His eyes were not icy azure or deep gray but a royal blue. Huh?

  He frowned at me. “What happened to your head?” he asked, glancing around the room. His eyes landed on something behind me, and his eyebrows raised. “We gave you those because you were doing so much better.” He sighed. “I guess you’re not ready yet.”

  I turned to follow his gaze. Severa
l hardcover books lay on the floor, the edge of one bloody. What?

  Dimitri approached and narrowed his gaze on my head. “You really did a number on yourself.” He glanced down at a tray in his hands. It was covered in small white paper cups. “I’ll take you to the infirmary after I finish this medication round.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Dimitri, it’s me, Darling. Where are we?” I reached out and grabbed onto the shirt, wanting to pull him toward me but lacking the strength. I needed to feed.

  He looked at me like I was nothing to him. No, that wasn’t the look. He looked at me like he felt sorry for me.

  I unclenched my hand from his uniform. He gave me a professional smile, no warmth in his eyes… but definitely a dose of pity.

  “Here.” He held out one of the little paper cups. Inside sat two round pills. “Take your meds; they always make you feel better.”

  My hand shook as I took the cup. I did not bring it to my mouth. “What?” My voice came out a breathy whisper. My eyes slid away from him and around the small bedroom again. Leather straps at the head and foot of the bed, padding on the walls. A thrill of fear ran through me. I’m mad. Crazy. It was all a hallucination. “What is real?” I asked.

  “You may want to see Dr. Tor about that.”

  My gaze jumped to his. “Issa is here?”

  “Of course, group is in about twenty minutes. You can talk to him then. But before that—” Dimitri gave me another professional smile. “—I need to see you take those pills.”

  When I raised them to my mouth, he nodded to encourage me. The sweet perfume of spring flowers drifted up from the medication. Seventh Force?

  “Go on,” Dimitri said. When I did not move, he rolled his lips. “You know what happens if you don’t take your meds, Darling.” I just stared at him. “We have to give you a shock.”

  “A shock?” His eyes were dark blue—not the brilliance of a vampire, not the deep gray of his humanity. This was not my Dimitri, even though he had the same broad shoulders, narrow waist, and sharp cheekbones. This human is not mine.

  “A shot,” he enunciated clearly.

  “Oh.” I still didn’t take the pills. They smelled too much like Seventh… like a trick.