Page 17 of Magpie
“That house, your home—I created it, and every creature that resides within its walls,” he says, his shoes snapping echoing circles around the fountain. I am enrapt by his voice, clinging to every word as he continues, “I was like you, long ago…” His eyes are looking ahead, seeing something far off. Something long gone. “I was lost, a wayward soul, wasting away in a life that was not worthy of someone like me. I yearned for something greater, knowing that there had to be more to this life than just the pitiful hand I was dealt. I found my purpose, and with it came the urge to find other souls like me, the lost ones languishing in the mundane.”
His voice rolls over me like the gloves that grace his hands, soft and inviting, drawing me in. I am lost in it entirely as he weaves a tale of his life. I tumble from one story to the next as he sets out the stepping stones that led to him becoming a powerful mage.
I find myself briefly stopping, drawing back from the story. The idea of magics, ancient rites, and black rituals seems like something out of a fairy tale. I don’t know why my mind tries to fight against it so, because as I sit here, watching the strangerwith his shadowy aura, I find I can think of him as nothing less than power incarnate.
“I created my home to be a place outside of time, a place unconfined by the terms of this world. I needed a place for my new family, made up of the souls I saved from withering and dying in a worthless world. People wasting their full potential on this shallow life. It was easy enough to seek them out, their dying souls crying out from the void, calling them to me.”
He at last stops his promenade around the fountain and takes slow, measured steps toward me, his eyes locked on mine. He puts a single finger under my chin, tipping my head back. He is all I can see, the only thing I can focus on.
“I felt you crying out through the darkness, Magpie. The sound of your soul dying was unlike any I had heard before. Your greatness was dwindling, decaying in a life you were being sucked into.” He rubs his thumb across my cheek, wiping away a silent tear as it trails down my face. I have no idea why I’m crying, but all at once I stand and pull away from him.
The cold is instantaneous outside of his touch, and I rub my arms, shivering. I’m shaking my head, my eyes darting around the unfamiliar park. I get the sudden urge to flee, the thought shooting through the demanding fog of his presence, and I turn to him without thinking and whisper, “I think I’m supposed to go…”
I don’t know why I speak the words, other than the blaring alarm bell in my head that is getting louder the longer this strange mage is not touching me.
“You’re not going anywhere, Magpie,” he says, his words a binding promise that drifts across the vastness of the night and shackles me where I stand.
“I don’t know if I can live like this,” I say, barely keeping my voice from trembling. Again, it is like someone else is speaking for me. Someone who is trying to keep me from walking downthis shrouded path with the devilish stranger and his crescent-moon smile.
“You gave me your life, Magpie. You no longer have a say in what I do with it.”
I balk, taking another step away from him. His eyes are harsh for a heartbeat before a languid smile graces his lips, and he crosses the distance between us in quick steps. I have no time to prepare before he descends on me, pulling me to him and filling me with that satisfying warmth. His touch chases away my fears, my doubts, and the alarm bells die as I melt into him.
“Stay with me, and I will give you everything you ever dreamed of, every wicked desire of your heart,” he whispers, his fingers twining in my hair, tilting my face to his. “Do not struggle against me. Give yourself entirely to me, and I will give you every temptation of your soul. Only I can grant you those things. Only I can warm you. Do you want to be back in the cold?”
I cannot remember anything tangible before waking up in that bed, but I can remember a feeling of sadness, of being trapped. The dying thoughts of before try once more to push a memory to the forefront of my mind: the quietest flashes of laughter, of warmth and love. I frown at the forgotten space of my mind. I do not want to think of before, of the life that is so desperately trying to pull at my memory. I wantthislife, the twisting tale of seduction and power he is offering me.
At what cost?
I throw that thought away, blocking it and every tugging sense of unease that is trying to claim me, trying to pull me from the only thing that can numb me and soothe me at the same time. Standing on my tiptoes, I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing myself firmly against him.
“What are you?” I breathe.
“I am your savior,” he answers, leaning down until our foreheads are pressed together. “I am your protector.” He tugsme closer, his lips brushing against mine. They are icy cold, and I shiver at the featherlight pressure. “I am your master, and you will obey my every command.”
He presses his lips to mine, and I am lost in the oblivion of his touch.
Squinting against the blinding morning sun, I press a dollar bill along the side of a vending machine, trying to straighten out the crinkled paper. Feeding it into the slot, I let out a sigh of relief as it finally accepts the money. This is my third try, and after a restless night of wandering the stacks of the library, I’m in no mood to fight with a machine.
I punch in the numbers and wait as it spits out a large canned drink. Cracking it open, I take a cursory sniff, grimacing at the foul odor before taking a large gulp. I never acquired the taste for energy drinks, but I need something to chase the sleep from my eyes. When was the last time I truly slept? I frown, a soul-wrenching tightness strangling my throat. I know when I last slept easy, and it was in the bed of someone who no longer exists.
Blood-red eyes. A crooked smile. Hands exploring every dip and swell of my body. A cry of pleasure breaking through my lips as—
Stop it.
Before anguish can control me, I force those memories down, blinking rapidly against the tears brimming in my eyes. Takinganother large gulp of the sugary drink, I lean against the wall, watching the store across the street.
Nestled between the brick and steel buildings is a single old house, like the last hold-out from a once sleepy town refusing to move forward into a bustling city. Robin’s egg–blue paint adorns the exterior walls, with what appear to be hand-painted wildflowers swirling on the shutters. Trailing ivy and vibrant blooms crest out of pots that hang from the roof and litter the porch.
A sandwich board advertises palm readings and healing herbs, beautifully written in a flowing, elegant script. A windchime made of crystals clinks away in a gentle breeze, sending bits of light scattering around as air flows through the stones. Warm sunlight glitters around the house, illuminating it among the muted colors of the city street. It is so entirely out of place, it looks like it was plucked out of a scene in a fairytale—like the house of a witch that belongs hidden deep in the woods.
My eyes are not trained on the house itself, but on her. She is standing in front of the store, pouring a watering can over the flowers. Her glistening silver hair is pulled up in a loose bun, unruly strands escaping its confines and flying about her face, playing in the soft wind. An easy smile stays on her face as she finishes her work, her eyes alight with silent joy. I watch her climb the stairs into her shop, a bell chiming as she opens the door and disappears.
I should move, should walk across the street and follow her, but I’m glued to the wall. I tell myself I will wait a few more minutes, gather my courage, and then I will enter. Any moment now, I will peel myself from the brick wall and my hiding space beside the vending machine and cross the short distance between us.
The day drags on, and I remain a silent sentry across the street. Because the truth is that I’m terrified. Terrified of whatmight await me in that store. I hope it is my salvation, but it could just as easily be my doom. Will she believe me? Will she scream at me to get out? Or worse, will she take me back to him?
I’ll wait just a little longer. Just a few more minutes.
