“If I weren’t convinced of your loyalty, I would say you sound pleased by the fact.”
“What are you doing to her? You swore to me she would be safe—”
“You, witch, go silence the prisoner before I change my mind and silence him myself. Permanently.”
“Your Majesty, in light of this setback perhaps we should reconsider using my daughter as our first subject.”
“Nonsense. She will be overcome sooner or later. This was only the first attempt. Unfamiliar spells always take time to perfect...”
And then the voices faded, taking all her surroundings with them.
* * *
***
Lily woke up on her own bed, surrounded by sunlight. It seemed late in the day, but she still felt unusually tired, despite having slept in. She sat up and stretched, then pulled the covers back and put her feet on the floor. Glancing down, she was surprised to see her knee-high boots on her feet. Now that she was paying attention, she realized she wore the rest of her adventure outfit as well. Had she passed out fully dressed last night? Her clothes didn’t look wrinkled, but then they wouldn’t, being magically enchanted to resist wrinkles, stains, and odors.
Putting aside the mystery of her clothes, Lily rose and looked around. Her eyes were drawn to her bare closet door and her brow furrowed. Something was missing. Speaking of missing things...Lily turned in a circle but saw no sign of Sir Kipling. He was normally difficult to peel off her, preferring to use her as a glorified napping surface any time she was prone on her bed. Troubled by his absence, she headed to the kitchen to look for him.
“Hello, Lily.”
Lily screamed and tried to whirl to face the intruder, but stumbled over her own feet in the process and ended up spilling toward the floor instead. Strong hands caught her before she could get far, and they gripped her tightly as she struggled to get free.
“Hey! Calm down, Lily, it’s just me. Sebastian. It’s okay, you’re safe.”
Lily almost cried in relief, but quickly recovered and gave Sebastian a firm smack on the shoulder, her momentary fear fueling a healthy dose of anger. “Don’t do that to me, Sebastian! I almost had a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Sebastian said, and he wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace.
Caught off guard, Lily froze, and her awareness was suddenly overwhelmed by a disturbing feeling of déjà vu. Had this happened to her before? Before her brain could decide how to react, Sebastian released her and pulled back.
“How are you feeling?”
“I—I’m not sure,” Lily said faintly, staring up into Sebastian’s eyes. Something about his eyes wasn’t right, and the longer she stared at them, the more brittle Sebastian’s expression became.
“Lily, are you alright? You’re looking at me weird.” Sebastian chuckled as if he’d just made a joke, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes...
And then it hit her. The attack on the museum. Roger and his demon. Sebastian and the fae.
Sebastian.
The memory of the imposter’s inhuman screech of rage at Sir Kipling’s attack ripped into her like a serrated knife. She stumbled back as terror and adrenaline shot through her limbs.
“Lily, what’s wrong?” The thing that looked like Sebastian stepped forward, concern written all over its face.
“Stay back! You’re not Sebastian. I know you’re not. Take off that face. Take it off!” She screamed the last words, furious and brokenhearted that she should ever feel fear at the sight of someone she loved.
The imposter took another step toward her, gentle words of concern still coming out of its mouth, even as its eyes glittered darkly. Lily had no weapons, and she didn’t even bother reaching for her magic. She could feel a barrier between her and the Source, a barrier that felt suspiciously familiar—as if she had been trapped this way before. But just because she had no weapons didn’t mean she was helpless.
“KIP!” she screamed, and no sooner had she acknowledged her need for him than he was there, crouched between her and the imposter, growling deep in his throat. He seemed bigger than she remembered, somehow, as if she’d never fully appreciated how massive he was for a normal house cat. Or maybe it was that the vibrations of his growl sounded like they came from the throat of a much larger beast.
Her adversary—wise now to Sir Kipling’s capabilities—retreated. The beautiful mask of Sebastian’s face twisted into an ugly sneer, and then, between one blink and the next, he was gone. But in his place was—
“No. No, no, no.” Lily backed up involuntarily, as if she could escape what her eyes were showing her. “You can’t wear that face either. You’re not her. Stop it!”
But ‘Madam Barrington’ ignored her protests entirely. She limped slowly over to the kitchen table and grasped the back of a chair, leaning on it for support. Lily scrambled to get farther away from her—no, not her, it, she told herself, but her brain was having trouble remembering that. Yet even as she retreated, she had to resist her impulse to help. The woman’s body looked so frail, and her thin shoulders bent under a burden Lily could not see.
“You...have failed me.”
“What?” Lily said, startled.
“My star student. You would have been the greatest of us. But you failed.”
“I—I did no such thing,” Lily spluttered.
Madam Barrington ignored her and kept talking, head bowed, deep wrinkles carving canyons of regret across her aged face. “I gave you all the tools, poured my heart and soul into you. I...I loved you as the daughter I could never have.”
Lily had stopped protesting and could only stare at her mentor in dumbfounded silence—no, not her mentor. But her brain wasn’t listening anymore, drowned out as it was by the chasm of guilt that Madam Barrington’s words were tearing open in her heart.
“You had every opportunity to get things right, but you were too weak. You chose to follow your foolish fancies after I warned you to leave well enough alone. I tried to protect you from him, but you ran right into his arms. Everything your father has done since then is your fault.”
“No,” Lily whispered, even as her guilty conscience shouted, “Yes!”
“You know it to be true. If you had not ruined everything, we might still be living in peace. This is your fault. Your sin. You could have been more responsible, but no, you chose to satisfy your curiosity. You selfish, selfish girl. And who has paid the price? Your brother Caden is dead because of you.”
“No,” Lily whispered. It wasn’t true—she knew it wasn’t. But the weight of the accusation pressed down on her shoulders and she sank slowly to her knees.
“You killed Caden. You killed the pixie. And you...have killed...me…”
With that, the old woman’s eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed.
“Ethel!” Lily scrambled to her friend’s body, every rational thought fleeing her mind at the sight of her beloved mentor gasping for breath on the floor. She reached the old woman, but could only kneel there helplessly, unsure what to do or how to help.
Before her very eyes the tile floor of her kitchen morphed into cracked and yellowed linoleum. She looked up, and she was back in the old mental hospital, kneeling on the floor beside her mentor’s cold body. But this time Madam Barrington was awake and gasping. Maybe Lily could save her this time, maybe she could fix her mistakes.
“Ethel, are you alright? What’s the matter? Is it John Faust’s curse? Tell me what to do, how do I break it?”
The old woman clutched at Lily’s hand, laboring to breathe as she tried to lift her head and stare into Lily’s eyes. “Not...strong enough.”
“What? Of course you are, Ethel. You’ll get through this! I won’t let you die. I won’t!”
“No...you are not...strong enough. You did not...learn enough...did not practice...hard enough. You...cannot save me.”
“No! I know I can do it! Whatever the spell is, just tell me the words! Quickly!”
She could h
ave cried in relief when her mentor’s lips finally moved, and Lily bent close, putting all her focus on memorizing the whispered spell. Yet something was wrong. It seemed too short to contain the expected parameters, and she didn’t recognize the Enkinim her mentor used. Had Madam Barrington not taught her this spell before because Lily hadn’t worked hard enough at her Enkinim? Had she not spent enough time studying?
No matter, she would try anything that might save Ethel, even risk an unfamiliar spell that might backfire on her. She closed her eyes to concentrate, trying to block out the sound of breath rattling in her mentor’s lungs as the old woman struggled to draw in air.
There was no time to meditate, no time to prepare. Lily simply grabbed at the Source and cried out the words, throwing all her will into one desperate push of magic.
Nothing happened.
“You...have...failed me.” Madam Barrington’s voice was deathly weak, and Lily’s eyes popped open at the sound.
“No! I’ll try again, I’ll get it right. Just hold on, Ethel. Hold on!”
But try as she might, her magic lay inert and unresponsive. The spell was useless and her efforts were as futile as grasping smoke in the wind. And slowly, before her eyes, Madam Barrington’s labored breathing stopped, and she lay still.
Lily stared down in horror at the body in her arms. The rational part of her brain knew this was all some sort of bizarre dream, but as was often the case in dreams, that knowledge was distant and ineffectual against the raging emotions that gripped her. Then, without warning, she burst into tears, bowing her head in defeat over the cooling body of her dearest friend. She sobbed and sobbed her heart out—not for a friend who hadn’t actually died, but for the sure knowledge that this friend, and probably many others, would die before everything came to its sticky end.
And it was all her fault.
She might have knelt there until the end of time, a prisoner to her own guilt and sorrow, if it hadn’t been for the warm presence that appeared at her side and leaned into her, lending her cold heart some of its warmth.
Slowly her sobs subsided. When she finally sat up and scrubbed a sleeve across her swollen eyes, she suddenly remembered what it was she was cradling. A surge of disgust energized her limbs, and she recoiled from the thing lying on the floor, scooting backward until she reached a wall. There Lily wrapped her arms around her knees and stared at the body, expecting it to move or perhaps change again. But it just lay there, accusing her with its morbid presence.
“Do not give it power over you,” said a resonant voice beside her.
She looked and found Sir Kipling by her side again, though she hadn’t seen him follow her to her little corner. Tentatively, she reached out and scratched behind his ears. He leaned into her touch, just as he always did, and she comforted herself by burying her fingers in his silky fur.
“I...I know this isn’t real—can’t be real. But...but what if that thing was right?” It took an effort to keep her voice steady and speak past the oppressive weight of guilt on her chest. “What if it is all my fault?”
“And what if it is?” Sir Kipling asked, his voice more gentle than she’d ever heard it.
Lily sat bolt upright. “What? You mean you agree with her?”
Sir Kipling laid his ears back against his skull in feline displeasure and gave her a hard stare.
Slumping again, Lily looked down as she muttered, “Of course not. You probably assumed I would know better than to blame myself, and didn’t want to waste time stating the obvious.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the feline’s ears perked up again and he gave his tail a satisfied swish. His response made Lily want to roll her eyes. Even amid all this, he still had to be such a cat.
“Okay, but—” Lily started, then bit her lip, her guilt not at all assuaged. “But I have made mistakes,” she said, the words finally spilling out. “Maybe I haven’t killed anyone directly, but I’ve made stupid decisions and done things that have hurt others, so whether it’s my fault or not, the events I’ve set in motion are probably going to hurt a lot of people.” She finally fell silent, desperate for some sort of relief.
“Every soul on earth is responsible for their own actions—all, and only, their actions. Those responsible for what has happened will meet their reckoning, in good time.”
Lily swallowed. That had not made her feel any better. If anything, now she felt worse. “So...what should I do?”
“There are many mysteries in life,” the cat said. “One of them is sacrifice.”
“You mean, I have to sacrifice myself to make up for my mistakes?” Lily asked in a very small voice.
Sir Kipling raised a paw to rest it gently on her arm. “No, child. Your life would not bring back the dead, even if you gave it freely. It can, however, help save the living, should you choose that path.” He tilted his head and regarded her with solemn eyes. “But do not take such a road seeking your own redemption; your actions cannot change the past. Sacrifice because others have already sacrificed for you. From a heart full of gratitude come humility and selflessness, and you will need both to guard you on your way.”
Lily held her cat’s gaze and frowned deeply as she considered his words. They had a depth to them that she could sense, but not see. There was a vastness of implication that she was afraid to understand, because if she understood it, she could not pretend to ignore it. She was good at ignoring things that frightened and confused her, she’d come to realize. It was her coping mechanism. But there was a truth here somewhere, a truth that mattered. If she pursued it, she could never hide again.
“What should I do?” she asked a second time, her voice much more calm.
“The best you can, and have faith that it is enough.”
Lily groaned even as a laugh tickled her throat. “Of course you would tell me to do the hardest thing I could possibly imagine. You know, the concept of ‘enough’ is pretty much anathema to a perfectionist like me.”
Sir Kipling started purring.
“Okay, okay, point taken.” Lily leaned her head back against the wall and took a slow, deep breath, then let it all out in a rush. At a gentle paw from her cat, she looked down and shifted her legs into a cross-legged position so he could crawl into her lap. His weight and warmth did more for her sanity than a hundred deep breaths ever could.
“You know, I am sorry—really sorry—for the mistakes I’ve made. You’re always having to run into danger because of me. Okay, I know it’s not all my fault, but I’m still sorry. If you weren’t already gray, I bet having me as your human would have turned your coat as silver as Yuki’s.”
“You have no idea,” Sir Kipling said, his voice as dry as could be.
That made Lily laugh in earnest. “Well, I’m sorry. For everything. Will...will you forgive me?” It felt odd saying that to a fluffy cat curled up in her lap. Except he wasn’t a cat—or at least, not just a cat. She half expected him to deflect with some sarcastic comment, but he only looked up at her with soft yellow eyes.
“All is forgiven,” he replied, his gentle tone easing the tension in her shoulders she hadn’t even realized was there.
As if his words were a signal, the run-down lobby suddenly dissolved and they were back in her kitchen. The wall she leaned against morphed into her kitchen cupboards, and she felt the knob from one of them digging into her back. She barely noticed, however, because the thing was still on the floor in the shape of Madam Barrington’s body, still in a heap where it had collapsed by the kitchen table. Before Lily could even wonder what to do with it, the head turned eerily toward her, twisting at an odd angle that would have broken a human’s neck. The eyes were just as empty and glassy as before, but its voice no longer mimicked her mentor’s tone. Its words came out horrible, rasping, and full of hatred from lips that pantomimed words like a puppet.
“It won’t be enough. It will never be enough. You aren’t worthy. You’re dirty and small and weak, like vermin. You ought to be destroyed—”
“Oh do shut up and go away. You’re being incredibly annoying, and I make it a rule not to waste my time listening to annoying things.” Pushing herself off the floor, Lily stood and turned her back on the thing, proud that she’d kept the tremble out of her voice. She really, really hoped it couldn’t get up off the floor and attack her from behind.
“Don’t worry, I will keep you safe,” Sir Kipling said, as if in reply to her thoughts.
Somehow she wasn’t surprised that the cat was suddenly perched there on the counter, having inexplicably disappeared from her lap when the mental hospital had turned back into her kitchen. The thing on the floor kept ranting and spewing horrible maledictions that described her every failing in great detail.
“If I ignore it, it will go away, right?” Lily muttered out of the side of her mouth as she pretended to rummage through her tea cabinet. In reality, she couldn’t concentrate enough to even read the labels on the boxes, much less pick one.
But Sir Kipling didn’t reply. Instead he faded, along with the countertop and cabinet in front of her. She spun, but the thing on the floor was gone, and the entire room flickered and lurched as if she were in some kind of simulation. In place of the imposter’s curses came the sound of muffled voices.
“What is the matter? You assured me you were capable of completing the ritual.”
“She isss protected. Celessstial wardsss, I cannot take her by force. She mussst let me in.”
“Well, why hasn’t she yet? Surely you have means of persuasion at your disposal.”
“She isss not alone. Someone ssstands guard.”
“What do you mean someone? How could there possibly be—”
“Calm down, Your Majesty. It is obvious this will take more time than we anticipated. As I said before, we should have him use someone else as the first test subject.”
“Are you defying me?”
“Of course not, Mor—Your Majesty. I am only trying to streamline our efforts. We have a limited amount of time and must be prepared when they come.”
“We will have plenty of time. They cannot reach us here. We will—”
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Identity Page 20