by L. R. W. Lee
The doorbell rings and Portia, whose been leaving me to myself, scurries to answer it. A slew of hieroglyph is exchanged, but I can’t bear to take my ring off to listen in because those… dark swirly things… will show themselves again, and they scare me.
They’re so… other… from who I am.
Portia rounds the end of the sectional and dips her head, clearly apologetic. She extends an open palm toward whoever it is. No one knows I’m here. Who would want to see me?
I’m a mess. Except for peeing, I haven’t gotten up to eat, much less clean myself up.
But Portia won’t be dissuaded because she hasn’t moved. Her troubled gaze keeps bouncing between me and the visitor.
So I sit up, turning toward the front door as I do. “Nuria?”
That’s all it takes for Portia to scurry away and the lieutenant commander to stride to the edge of the steps right behind me.
Squirrel. I like her black heels.
Her long white hair is pulled back in a scrunchie and she’s dressed in fancy black leggings that flatter her long, trim legs. A long periwinkle pullover accentuates her violet eyes—it’s impossible to miss her giving me a thorough looking over with them. Harpoc said she’s a quick judge of situations, and her frown tells me I’ve been found wanting.
I brush gnarled hair out of my face. I probably have dragon breath, too.
Her posture goes slack, the tension draining from her arms that now hang loosely at her sides. She motions toward the couch. “May I?”
I nod. I’ve no idea what to expect as she takes a seat toward the other end of the couch, slipping off her shoes and drawing her legs up under her.
“Harp went to check out another leak. He asked me to stop by. Said you’re having a hard time of it and could probably use a girlfriend.”
I can’t help it when a corner of my mouth hitches.
She throws up her hands. “I know. I’m not exactly ‘girlfriend’ material.”
I snort. “Me either.”
“I’ve never been all chummy, chummy drooling at cute guys, sharing juicy gossip.” She rolls her eyes, then raises a finger. “Not that I don’t appreciate the opposite sex, mind you.”
I snort, despite myself.
“Give me a squadron to whip into shape, and I’m in my glory, but touchy-feely has never been my forte.” She tosses her bundled locks over a shoulder.
Harpoc said she’s a straight shooter and doesn’t pull any punches. I exhale heavily, at least feeling like I can be myself around her.
“So what’s going on?” She places a hand on her thigh.
“What did Harpoc tell you?”
“Not much, only that he told you a few things you didn’t take kindly to.”
I force a chuckle. That’s the understatement of the century.
How much should I tell her?
Who’s she going to tell, Pell? My inner voice has been quiet, but I realize she’s trying to work through this, too.
Fair enough.
“I discovered I’ve had an incorrect understanding about….”
Nuria tilts her head and furrows her brow.
Can I really trust her?
Harpoc does, Pell.
I still trust Harpoc, despite this.
This isn’t his fault, Pell.
I know it’s not, but I feel so lost.
What have you got to lose? Maybe she can help work through this.
At times I hate my inner minion, but right now isn’t one of them.
Aw, Pell. Love you, too.
Don’t go nuts on me.
I refocus. “I’ve had an incorrect understanding of my entire life. Until yesterday, I’ve believed I’m a mortal human being.” I shake my head, tears again threatening. “It’s all been a lie.” I give her a condensed version of my history throughout which her expressions range from frustration to anger to pity.
I hate pity so I’m glad she doesn’t comment until I finish.
“Oh, girl, that’s awful.” She reaches out and pats my arm. “I can see why you’d be upset. I would be, too.” She shakes her head. But then she looks down and starts picking at a stray string on her periwinkle sweater, and it feels like she’s not telling me something.
What is it with people here?
I fear to ask but what the hell. “You knew?”
She looks up at me. “I’d no idea you didn’t. Harp brought you here. He said you were from Earth, but I assumed… incorrectly, it seems.” She exhales heavily.
“How?”
She gestures toward my ring.
I furrow my brow.
“Beings fr—” Her eyes go wide and she grabs for her throat. It sounds like someone’s choking her.
“Nuria.” My voice goes shrill, and I bolt up. “What’s wrong?”
She continues to struggle, unable to draw breath, and I yell for Portia, who comes in an instant. All I can do is point, making Portia’s expression match my own. For all my panic, all Portia does is shift from one foot to the other, kneading her hands.
Do something, woman!
It’s a full minute, but Nuria finally catches her breath, well, she has a coughing fit, but at least she’s breathing.
I exhale heavily, my heart still running full out.
She lies back against the couch, hand on her stomach, panting when it’s all over, and waves Portia off.
The housekeeper’s gaze bounces between me and Nuria, clearly not convinced Nuria will live, but I bob my head, and she finally relents, but gives us looks over her shoulder as she heads for the kitchen.
“Are you okay?” I’m still worried for Nuria. What the devil just happened?
She swallows and nods. “Sometimes I hate secret magic.”
“Secret magic?” Harpoc said the same after watching Midas die. I don’t disagree.
Portia’s back with a glass of water and hands it over the couch to me, watching Nuria catch her breath.
“Thank you.” I know she can’t understand me, but still….
Portia motions that she’ll be just down the hall, at least that’s my guess, as she disappears, worry still marring her face.
Nuria eases up and I hand her the water.
“Damn magic.” It comes out a growl as she rubs her neck and takes a sip.
I wait for her to elaborate.
After another drink, she studies me. “You… Something about you has been sealed as a secret.”
My mouth drops open. “What?”
She frowns, like it should be obvious. “Secret magic only behaves that way when something sealed is about to be revealed.” She looks me up and down and shakes her head. “Who woulda thought?”
I open and close my mouth, not comprehending that there’s a secret sealed involving me. How’s that even possible?
My heart pounds. Nuria gestured toward my ring. Did my parents…? Is that why I have it? I’m so confused.
I remember myself a second later and ask, “Secret magic did that to you?” That’s insane.
She nods.
“Is there a way to find out what’s been hidden?”
She shakes her head. “If I tested it again, in the same way, it could kill me.”
My eyes go wide.
“It’s one thing to stumble upon something, but to probe knowingly….” She wags her head. “No… I would never.”
“That was ‘stumbling on it’?”
“Yes.”
Well, crapshit.
“So what do I do?”
She puts a hand on my leg. “Not a damn thing.”
She’s got to be kidding. No damn way am I not going to probe further. What the hell has been hidden about me?
“Being immortal isn’t the end of the world, neither is having secret magic.”
She’s moving beyond that horrendous encounter; there’s no way I’ll forget. It nearly killed her.
I raise an eyebrow making her chuckle. “But those”—I gesture swirls—“things seriously freak me out. I was fine with them coming out of Har
poc because he’s… different.”
A corner of her mouth hitches.
“Don’t be offended.” I look down. “But I was good with them coming out of you, too.”
“Oh lordy, you can’t offend me that easily.” She waves off my comment. “Guess that makes me ‘different’ to you, too.”
I snort, I can’t help it. “Secret magic nearly strangled you. To have its shadows come out of me…” My pitch rises and I shake my head. “… I feel… filthy inside, like it’s evil. Secret magic choking you certainly was.”
I pull at the blanket, collecting my thoughts. “I’m afraid,” I confess, biting my lip. “I’ve got no control over it leaking out of me. There was so much of it.”
She sits up straight. “What would you say to me helping you learn how to control those….” She mimes swirls badly, and I crack up.
That’d be amazing, Pell. Maybe you can understand secret magic better that way. Find a way around it.
My inner minion’s idea has merit.
Aw, Pell. I’m disgusted when I hear her make a kissing sound. Two for two today.
I’m giving her a big head. I’m going to regret it, I already know.
I bob my head, despite still trying to reconcile myself to the idea that I have secret magic. And that it can… do what it just did to Nuria.
I don’t realize how accustomed I’m becoming to Harpoc’s hugs until I lean forward to give Nuria one without thinking, and she goes stiff.
“Uh, I don’t really do hugs.”
I chuckle. “Ya know, I didn’t used to either, but….”
My cheeks warm.
Nuria laughs. “Harpoc’s a good hugger, I’m guessing?”
I snicker. “Busted.”
She rolls her eyes. “Didn’t realize your coming would mean we have to get all huggy.”
“Harpoc already said you’d all probably hate him for it.”
She snorts as I wrap my arms around her stiff body before she can fend me off.
“Thank you, Nuria. I’d appreciate your help getting this… stuff under control, if that’s even possible.”
But can I really get over how utterly dirty, no evil, and freaked out those swirly shadow things make me feel? Bugs crawling all over me—that sensation makes a shiver run through me again. But worse, this stuff can attack others, even kill from what Nuria said, and… it’s inside me.
I’m horrified.
But beyond that, what deep, dark secret about me is it protecting? And what might it do to prevent me from finding out?
Chapter Eleven
“Secret magic nearly strangled you. What will it do to me if I try to control it? It’s nasty, won’t it resist?” My stomach twists even as I ask Nuria, as we head down the hallway toward the workout facility on the other side of the castle.
“It might, but you have to let it know who’s boss.”
Great, just great, because I’m so good at controlling evil—Irik, my former site co-supervisor, case in point. Yeah, that turned out so well.
You can at least try, Pell. What have you got to lose?
My inner minion dredges up a picture of Superman fighting some bad dude. But all I manage to envision is the episode where he succumbs to kryptonite.
Pell, stop being difficult.
Nuria opens the door to one of the training rooms, and I follow her in. She’s changed into a gray sports bra with black, light gray, and medium gray color combo compression leggings that show off her sleek olive physique.
Why did I agree to do this? Grace is gonna have a field day. “I need to warn you.”
Nuria sets her bag down in the corner and looks over with a furrowed brow.
“I’m not exactly graceful.” I rub a pasty-white, bare arm, feeling uncomfortable to say the least because I’m in a black sports bra that I lack any stuffing for and rust-and-black patterned leggings that Portia found after Nuria told her we were going to work out.
Me work out. Right. I bite back a snort because it’s still funny.
I’ve never worn anything so revealing. I’ve certainly never walked around in public in a bra and undies—it feels that way. To say that my rail-like body does not resemble Nuria’s in the slightest, is the understatement of the century.
“You’re in luck, we’re not after grace, but power.” A corner of her mouth hitches as she removes her sneakers.
I sit down and remove mine, beside her, then tighten my black scrunchie.
She’s doing stretches, legs split on the floor. She chuckles at me, as I gaze about the good size, two-story, white-walled room like the noobish, snail-without-a shell I am.
Small mercy, no one’s watching from the stands up top, although I can hear shouts, screams, and other sounds of working out in adjoining rooms.
She jumps up, clapping her hands. “Okay, let’s do this.”
I rise, fear pooling in my gut, because I know what she’s going to say first.
“Pell, take off your ring.”
Guessed it.
“Is… is that wise? I mean, those—” I mime swirls “—went everywhere the last time.”
She frowns and her voice takes on a sternness I’ve not heard before.
Crap, she’s not gonna go easy on me.
Why should she, Pell? Are you some princess?
Shush.
“How are you going to learn to control your magic if you don’t release it?”
I sigh, then bite my lip. My gaze meets hers, where I find only determination.
Don’t be a wimp, Pell. She’s military, she won’t respect you if you don’t suck it up.
“Okay.” I bob my head, more hoping it’ll give me courage than anything.
At a girl, Pell! You go, girl!
I roll my eyes to myself. Damn inner minion.
I heard that.
I slide the ring down my finger and scrunch up my face.
Nuria looks like she’s tamping down a snort.
Damn! I suck in a breath the instant I pull it free because shadows start leeching off me, everywhere. That invasive, swirling Styrofoam bead sensation, like bugs crawling all over me, begins. I hated it when Harpoc fitted me with new clothes before coming, I hated the other night at his old palace, I hate it now.
“Hand it here.” Nuria reaches out.
“Nuria.” My voice waivers, but I do as she says, as more and more dark swirls roll off, then brush me making my heart race. It’s only seconds before the shadows come faster and darker. I want to scream to make it stop. It’s not just the feeling of bugs, it’s the whole… evil feeling.
Nuria tucks my ring in the wide elastic waistband of her pants. “For safekeeping.”
How can she be so damn calm?
It’s hard to breathe. I feel those… things… everywhere… around me… on me. The room is filling with a smoky haze. And it’s all mine.
“Pell.” Her voice has taken on a commanding tone, no doubt what she uses on her lieutenants. “Will it to stop.”
My jaw drops. She’s freaking kidding me.
“I would if I knew how.” I add snip to it because I’m about to totally freak.
“Pell, calm. Breathe. You’ll never master it like this.”
Well, excuuuse me, but this is—
“Pell!” She’s in my face in an instant. “I said, calm, breathe.”
Her ferocity makes me jump.
But the shadows are so thick and swirling so fast, and I’m feeling all of them against every part of me—around my arms, my chest, brushing my behind, my legs, in my hair, on my face. I feel like I’m drowning. I’m seriously going to lose it.
When I still haven’t complied a few seconds later, she grabs my shoulders and snarls, “Br… ea… the, Pell.”
I inhale sharply.
“Breathe, Pell. Just breathe.” Her tone is insistent, but calm, and she’s still holding me by the shoulders, like she knows she’s my only anchor in this storm.
Breathe. Somewhere the command registers in my subconscious because my lungs
expand unbidden, and then I exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
I’m still feeling that invasive brushing feeling like bugs everywhere on me, but I focus on breathing.
“That’s it, Pell. Just keep breathing, slowly.” Her voice has turned soothing.
I can do this. In. Out. In. Out. Focus on breathing, I tell myself.
But that feeling of bugs on me bolts to the forefront of my mind again, and I inhale sharply.
“Breathe, that’s it.” Calm and reassuring.
In. Out.
“Open your eyes, Pell.”
I didn’t realize I smashed them shut, but at her bidding I discover my whole face is contorted, and it’s starting to hurt from holding it that way.
I crack an eye open, and gasp. The shadowy swirls are so dense I can barely make Nuria out, and she’s right in my face.
“Open, that’s it.”
I smash my eye shut again. I can’t do this.
Don’t be a wuss, Pell.
Nuria shakes my shoulders. “Pell.”
I take a deep breath, willing my breathing to calm, my heart to stop racing.
I raise my hands and make slowing motions, slowly exhaling. At least Nuria’s not yelling at me.
I try again, cracking an eye open. Knowing what to expect this time, it’s not great, but I can at least manage, despite still feeling the swirls.
“That’s it, Pell.”
My face is really starting to hurt, scrunched as it still is, so I focus on relaxing.
“Other eye, Pell.” Nuria’s hands hold me steady as I comply. It takes several seconds, but I finally have both eyes open, and my face relaxes.
Score, Pell!
I’m glad my inner minion is so energetic because I’m drained.
“I want you to acclimate to the feel, Pell.” Nuria drops her hands and my breathing speeds again.
Oh, no you don’t. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, gaze locked with Nuria’s. I probably look like a dork, still moving my hands about, but I don’t care.
Reach for the stars, Pell.
I don’t need the stars. I’ll settle for being able to deal with the feel of these shadowy swirls. It’s so invasive.