Page 49 of Magpie
Do I have a choice?
With grim determination, I sling my bag over my shoulders and walk slowly to Margaux, careful to keep my face hidden from the staff. Margaux might seem unaffected by my darkness, and I can only assume it’s because of the natural light pouring forth from her, but the others don’t need my power tainting them.
“Ready to go?” she asks, catching my gaze.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I mutter, following her out of the diner.
She’s all but skipping as she moves to the golden Cadillac, swinging keys on a purple puffball keychain around her finger. She slides into the driver’s seat and leans across to unlock the passenger-side door. I vaguely consider telling her off for offering rides to strangers, demanding she go home to herparents. She’s far too young to be heading into the mouth of a waiting beast.
But the key continues to thrum, and I am out of time.
I reach forward and open the door, tossing my backpack in before slowly sliding into the seat.
“Seatbelts,” she chimes, clicking hers into place. “Safety first.”
I resist the urge to tell her nothing can keep me safe. Letting out a shaky breath, I click my seatbelt into place.
Margaux turns the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. A sugary sweet pop song plays on the radio, and she squeals, turning the volume up as she shouts above the music, “I love this song!”
She pulls out of the diner, pointing us down the road and speeding off. To the dulcet tones of a top forty song, we race toward my cursed destiny.
It started as a seldom occurrence, my training with Alister. The effort of whatever spell I did to fuel him was too great, too taxing. It left me withered and hollow in its wake. Sometimes it would take weeks, or even months, for me to fully recover. After my lessons, Alister would leave me alone to tend to myself, and I spent more and more time in Sean’s room. He would hold me through the nightmares that woke me, shaking and sobbing, with no memory of why I felt so viscerallywrong. Sean would whisper in my ear when I needed to be talked to and hold me, silent but steady, when I couldn’t stomach words.
Sean is always there for me when I need him, and Alister is always there the moment he needs me.
My lessons might have started few and far between, but Alister is insatiable and impatient, and the very second he believed I was ready for another, he would seek me out. I began to learn to distrust him and his whispered words that I wasn’t doing anything wicked, that I was merely a witness on this journey. Even as the memories of those journeys dripped from my mind, consumed in Alister’s flame, the feeling of unease remained,growing bigger and louder with each lesson. Alister told me I would grow stronger, that I would get used to the foreboding sensation that held me in its talons. He was wrong that I would become accustomed to it, but he was right that I would grow stronger.
Which only made him push me harder.
Soon he was training me every month, then every other week, then weekly. Now it’s twice a week, an effort that is proving to be my biggest challenge. I find it nearly impossible to stand for long periods of time, becoming winded from the slightest task. More often than not, Sean finds me a crumpled mess on the ground after I’ve collapsed in a heap during my restless wanderings of the House. He is almost always by my side, sick with worry, trying to tend to me and to help chase away the gripping dread that is my constant companion.
Outside of our lessons, I barely see Alister anymore.
When he first started ignoring me, I thought I would hate it, that I’d crave the warmth his touch provided. But I’ve found that over the years, my desperate pull toward Alister has drifted away. I no longer yearn for him, pulled like a moth to his flame. That feeling has been replaced with a sullen resolve to obey, no matter how viciously I don’t want to. My once addicted fascination with him has faded to apathetic resignation. Alister doesn’t seem to notice the change in me, or more likely simply doesn’t care. That’s fine by me. The less he notices me, the better.
Besides, all my time away from him is spent in Sean’s embrace.
“I don’t like how much he’s pushing you,” Sean says, pulling me close to him. We’re tucked into his bed, where he brought me after finding me curled up in a corner, sobbing quietly after my most recent lesson. He silently scooped me into his arms and walked me to his room. I kept weeping, consumed by thesensation that there was blood on my hands, that I desperately needed to scrub them clean.
He held me as I sobbed and begged to rinse the blood away, holding me tight as he walked me into his shower and gently set me, fully clothed, under the stream of water. He peeled my wet clothes off me, dropping them on the ground and beginning to scrub me entirely. He soaped up every inch of my body, the act tender and gentle. There was nothing sexual about it. He was only focused on cleansing me.
I wept through it all.
When the last of the suds were rinsed down the drain, he wrapped me in a towel before scooping me up and walking to his bed. I watched him step out of his own soaked clothes, dropping them unceremoniously on the ground, completely unbothered by the wet pile. He only had eyes for me, only cared about me. My tears finally stopped, but the aching cold in my chest left me shivering and raw. Sean crawled into bed next to me, pulling me on top of his chest and sitting in the grief-stricken silence with me.
I rest my head on his bare chest now, listening to the soft, rhythmic sound of his heartbeat. I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of him as I try to let some of his peace fill me. I don’t respond to his words, letting them die in the air between us. What could I even say? I don’t like how Alister is pushing me either, but we both know there is no denying him. No stopping him.
“It’s killing you,” Sean says, not letting me hide from this. I have seen this conversation coming for weeks now, could read it like a book in his eyes every time he found me consumed by sorrow after my lessons.
I turn my face to his, forcing a smile to my lips. “You know as well as I do that nothing can kill me.” I say it like a joke, meantto defuse the situation, to get him to change the subject, but the look in his eyes has the fake smile sliding off my face.
“Magpie, I think you need to leave,” he says.
My heart drops as I let out a strangled sob. “You want me gone?” I whisper, and he quickly shakes his head, cupping my cheek and pressing his lips to mine. The kiss is deep, and full of so much bitter longing I nearly drown in it.
He pulls back. “I never want to be apart from you. I cannot imagine the rest of this endless life without you, but I cannot continue to watch you waste away in front of me. Alister is going to use you up until there is nothing left, and I’m not going to let him.” He holds my face fiercely, his eyes intent on mine. “I love you, pretty bird, but it’s time to set you free.”
I barely have time to register his proclamation, much less react to it, before he is pulling us off his bed. I have a drawer of things in his room, and he pulls out one of my many simple black shift dresses, handing it to me before he moves to dress himself. I’m staring at him, transfixed.
