Space Prom and Other Twisted Stories

SPACE PROM and Other Twisted Stories

FROM THE NASHVILLE PUBLIC LIBRARY AND NASHVILLE PUBLIC SCHOOLS

SPACE PROM and Other Twisted Stories

FROM THE NASHVILLE PUBLIC LIBRARY AND NASHVILLE PUBLIC SCHOOLS

Printed in October 2014 Nashville, Tennessee This project is a production of the Nashville Public Library, Nashville Public Library Foundation, and Southern Word in collaboration with the Metro Nashville Public Schools and Metro Nashville Arts Commission.

The stories included in this anthology were produced in workshops led by Claire Jimenez with Southern Word at the Nashville Public Library.

All rights to work included here belong to the authors who have given permission for inclusion in this publication.

Book design by Amy Ashida Edited by Claire Jimenez with the support of Lee Conell and Benjamin Smith Learn more about the Nashville Public Library at www.library.nashville.org.

Learn more about the Nashville Public Library Foundation at www.nplf.org.

Learn more about Southern Word at www.southernword.org.

RICHLAND PARK BRANCH LIBRARY GREEN HILLS BRANCH LIBRARY HUME-FOGG ACADEMIC MAGNET HIGH SCHOOL MARTIN LUTHER KING ACADEMIC MAGNET HIGH SCHOOL PEARL-COHN ENTERTAINMENT MAGNET HIGH SCHOOL

MADE POSSIBLE BY: 2

TABLE OF CONTENTS INTRODUCTION

5

SPACE PROM

6

THE PERFORMERS

11

SEEN

15

JANE'S CAGE

17

MALIK

21

SILVER AND GOLD

25

CINDERELLA: DEMON SLAYER

34

3

4

INTRODUCTION A prom is a rite of passage that signals the end of childhood and a transition into adulthood. Appropriately, Space Prom and Other Twisted Stories celebrates seven teen writers’ emergence into the adult literary world. Youth is marked by delayed opportunity, anticipation, and the frustration of not being old enough. With this publication and the manuscripts lying beneath their beds and in their closets, these writers demonstrate that it is never too soon to begin your arrival, and they arrive with the fortune of having their youthful imaginations in tact. These imaginations are still flexible enough to send aliens to proms, run away with circus acts, fixate on disintegrating love, and transform Cinderella into a demon slayer. Yet these writers also come equipped with an adult sense of language and a sophisticated eye for the worlds we inhabit.

This anthology is the result of happy timing: Southern Word mentor Claire Jimenez’s desire to teach short fiction workshops and the Nashville Public Library’s embrace of a new teen engagement strategy called Studio NPL. Studio NPL is an initiative of the Nashville Public Library, Nashville Public Library Foundation, MacArthur Foundation, and the Institute of Museum and Library Services that reinvents library teen spaces and how libraries program for teens. The library is shifting from a place where people simply find books and a quiet place to read into a community production center where people create and distribute their own work. The necessary tools for this creation, while evermore available, still require institutions such as the library that actively promote public access to these tools and the opportunities that flow from them.

This anthology is evidence of the imagination, energy, and capability lying underutilized in our schools and communities. When we omit platforms for youth voice from our culture, we disappear a critical portion of our common human experience and evaporate a well of potential. We hope this will be the first anthology of short fiction by Nashville’s top teen writers that trumpets the young minds waiting to represent and contribute to Nashville.

Now, will you go to the Space Prom with us? We can’t promise there won’t be devils and aliens and heartbreak and circus clowns there.

5

SPACE PROM

By Caroline Rivers The mirror magnifies my hazel eye by one hundred times as I drag the black liquid eyeliner brush across my lid. My eye looks like an alien’s when it’s magnified like this.

“Nova, your friends are here,” my mother calls up to me.

I gallop to the bottom of the stairs in time to see my best friends, Lexi and Ella, walk into our house through the landing port. I squeal and run to hug them both, and they hug me back with one arm as each holds her dress in the other hand.

“Time to get ready!” I say, and we all scramble up to my room.

I plug my j-phone 105 into the speakers and push play on my music playlist causing dance music to fill the air.

“Yay, this is the Rocking Crater’s new song,” Ella says.

“That’s my favorite band!” I say.

Then, we all sing along to the lyrics.

It is amazing that j-phones are still part of our culture, as much as they were one hundred years ago. But the current j-phone looks nothing like its ancestors.

Then, I type p-r-o-m- -d-r-e-s-s into the electronic j-pad that is connected to my closet, and my long, white, flowery dress falls from the ceiling. My clothes are stored in the family garment room, and all I have to do is request an item on the j-pad for it to travel through the pathways and drop into my room clean and wrinkle free. I type p-i-n-k- -h-e-e-l-s, and my shoes fall a moment later.

“Nova, can I borrow your silver heels for the dance?” Lexi asks.

“Absolutely. They will look amazing with your violet dress.” I type s-i-l-v-e-r- -h-e-e-l-s, and the shoes fall into Lexi’s hands.

“Girls, come down here. The security check is starting!” my mom says.

“Do we have to? We’re trying to get dressed up here.”

“Yes, this is required. This is important,” Mom says.

Goodness gracious, all this alien stuff all the time is so annoying. Why does it have to bother my personal life constantly?

I know my leaders would have no problem answering that question. They would say that aliens are threats to our society because they are completely different from us.

Yesterday, at the weekly sector meeting, Leader #11 gave a presentation on the “omnipotent aliens.”

“Our researchers are testing around the clock to predict what aliens may look like, but have drawn no new conclusions,” she said.

They could be the cliché little green guys or the scary slimy beings or the ones who look almost like us. No one has ever seen an alien before.

“Tomorrow afternoon is the date of our biannual security check, so be prepared for the lock down,” Leader #11 had said.

Back in my room, I turn off the music. “Come on gal pals,” I say, and we walk downstairs.

The sirens scream.

My mom opens the door to our underground hideout, and we huddle together on the floor. We turn on the micro-television.

The newscaster says, “All citizens should now be in their safety zone.”

Great. We should be getting ready for prom, and instead we are scared to death of aliens.

After twenty minutes, the sirens stop, and we walk up stairs to prep. We try on our dresses, squeal, and chat.

“I wonder what an alien would wear to prom?” Lexi says out of nowhere. Lexi is obsessed with aliens, like I think she actually wants to be friends with one.

“They probably wear some kind of furry coat,” Ella says.

“Or a dress made out of metal, nothing like the soft dresses we wear,” I say.

“What if they wear dresses that are exactly like ours?” Lexi asks.

“That’s impossible,” I say, and then I drop the brush. It tumbles off the dresser and hits the floor with a thud. I rarely think of aliens as similar in any way to myself.

7

Thirty minutes and twenty-seven bobby pins later, we are three girls ready to take on our junior prom.

“When will the boys be here to pick us up?” Ella asks.

I look out the window and see The Fire land on our landing port, and our three best guy friends Dore, Knox, and Alek sitting inside.

“They’re here!” I say, and we run to The Fire, Dore’s spaceship; he’s lucky that he gets his own. My parents won’t let me get one until I am eighteen.

The top of the immense flying shuttle slides back with an “eeeeeep” noise. Then Lexi, Ella, and I jump onto the ship and into the second row of seats, and we fasten our seat belts. I remember the accident last year and shudder. A group of teenagers were flying together, and they crashed into an asteroid. As a result, I never forget to use the safety features anymore.

The boys greet us and suddenly, without a warning, The Fire’s robotic voice speaks up: “Three, two, one, blastoff.” A boom echoes through the aircraft, and we are soaring perpendicular to the ground, where our homes are and where half of our life takes place.

The other half of our life happens in space.

Dore says, “Off to school we go.”

Two generations ago, our leaders announced that a new project had been constructed, space school, where the world’s children could go to learn at peace and without distraction, where we would have more opportunities to learn hands-on about the universe around us.

Riding in a spaceship is a typical part of my life, ever since I started school at age five. I must admit that it is pretty awesome. My grandmother tells me how, back in the day, she dreamed about being able to fly. Now, with modern technology, that dream is reality.

We turn up the music and sing until The Fire arrives at the landing port at our school and parks.

“I am so happy!” I say, and the others join in with their own cheers. Prom is a tradition that our world has kept up with for generations.

Arm in arm, Dore escorts me while Lexi and Knox and Ella and Alek follow behind us.

The landing port is enclosed and connected to the front entrance of the school with a dark tunnel that we now walk through. I am thinking about how strange our shadows look 8

when I am shocked by a figure that leaps out of the shadows, almost like an alien, and says “Boo,” causing me to jump back. Once I get a good look, I realize that it was only my friend, Ally, who now stands bent over with laughter.

“Nova, you are too jumpy tonight!” she says.

I laugh it off.

To secure our school’s safety, there is a puzzle, joke, or riddle that we must solve to enter the building to make sure that we are students. The puzzle is different every day.

This one reads: When do you go when it’s red and stop when it’s green?

Someone says, “It’s definitely not when you are riding in a car or spaceship.”

Knox says he knows the answer. “When you are eating a watermelon! Because you eat the juicy red part of the melon and stop when you get to the green rind. I was eating a watermelon earlier today.”

We all agree and say, “When you are eating a watermelon!”

The double doors slide open leaving the entrance exposed. We make our way through the glass halls to the planetarium where the prom is being held.

When we reach the planetarium, there is a purple carpet unraveled. Our teachers are holding microscopic cameras that produce a huge flash, saying, “Look over here, girls.” So we pose and twirl and walk inside.

The dome-shaped room looks absolutely magical tonight. The concave ceiling is lit up with images of the stars and galaxies, and the expansive dance floor is sparkling with little lights hanging above it. The music dominates the room, and our classmates are crowded around in groups, some chatting and some dancing.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s dance!” I say and am met with whoops and hollers.

We all grab hands and skip to the dance floor together.

Then the announcement comes. “Stop everyone. Stop!” Principal Hooper says through the sound system. “Our prom has been infiltrated by,” she gasps, “aliens who have gotten through the school’s security.” She says it as if it is the most logical thing in the world.

Aliens of all things. Tonight of all nights. Maybe she is just making it up.

But then someone says, “Look at the balcony!”

9

So we all shift our gaze to the railing on the second level of the planetarium and see a moving shape in the shadows and several other shapes behind that.

“Aliens,” I say.

I can’t draw my eyes away from them. The shapes emerge into the light silently, as if our worst fears are coming to get us.

I see aliens, about twenty-seven of them. They are small, just under four feet tall. The dazzling light reflects off their navy blue skin that twinkles like there are actual tiny stars embedded in the skin, almost like the night sky – beautiful. It’s easy to see how they blended into our environment.

We all group together and stand still. I am on the outer edge of the huddle.

Meanwhile, the aliens plunge off the balcony and start to creep toward us, making weird poses and gestures. It looks like they are practicing their karate skills. Closer and closer.

An alien comes within an arm’s length of my body. Now, only a foot away. Now, even less space. The alien draws its droopy arm back like it is about the punch me in the face, or worse, and I brace myself.

But then the alien starts fist pumping and dancing to the music, and the other twenty-six aliens join in.

I smile. Lexi smiles. Dore smiles. And the room is illuminated with the sounds of giggles and “aws.”

When that song is over, the alien leader, who is wearing a special hat, says, “We heard there was a dance in space and we had to stop by. We like to dance!”

Someone says, “You can dance with us!”

So the dancing commences.

Lexi leans over, out of breath, and says, “This is so much fun, but I’m going to have blisters on my tentacles tomorrow!”

“Me too,” I say, as I brush the hair away from my antenna.

10

THE PERFORMERS

By Onyekachi Iwu Billy Bernard brought a flashlight to bed and read the postcard under his covers.

Dear Billy, I’m sorry it’s been so long. I never wanted it to be like this. Don’t listen to your father. I really did love you, Billy. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. When you can, come and find me. Don’t show your father this card.

Go to Goodfella and ask for Annie. I’ll be waiting for you.

Love, Mom He read each line over and over, trying to construct a woman’s voice in his head.

Sometimes they burned like a flame. Sometimes they made him feel empty. He could trace the letters in his brain and wear them on his tongue. He could paint his mother’s face and watch her dance with a ballpoint pen with tears in her eyes. Since the postcard had arrived, he had become almost restless. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t stand still.

His grandmother told his father it was usual for a boy his age, but Mr. Bernard didn’t buy it.

“What’s wrong, son?”

“Nothing,” Billy always said. He kept the postcard against his hip so no one could find it and take it.

His step-mother, Stella, was worried too. Driving in the family car, she’d look up at Billy in the rearview mirror. “What do you want to do today, Billy? Where do you want to go?

Anywhere you want.”

“I want to go home,” he’d say. And he’d pull out the postcard and stare at it on his lap where Stella couldn’t see. Finally, he decided he had had enough. A plan starts with thought, and ends with action. If it doesn’t end with action, it is just a dream, and Billy Bernard was tired of dreaming. When he got home, he stole a wooden chair from the kitchen table. He pushed it across the floorboard and carpet until he reached his grandfather’s study. In the corner of the study, there was a tall globe with thin legs, posing with Africa and Asia on its hips and Antarctica for white hair. Billy Bernard positioned the chair beside the globe and climbed up on his toes to see. He laid his hand on America, leaned the world back, and sent it spinning. Around and around. The world was too big 11

to stay in one place. Billy stopped the globe on Goodfella, Arizona. Without so much as a smile, Billy hopped down and pushed the chair across carpet and floorboard until it was back in its rightful place. He was sure that Stella wouldn’t even notice he was gone.

Billy Bernard ran away. He packed apples and oranges and books and a broken compass.

He packed a clear-blue toothbrush and two ugly shirts Stella had bought after he’d said he didn’t want them. He broke his piggy bank and was rich with five dollars. He folded the postcard and stuffed it in a secret pocket inside the bag. After he crawled out a window, he started to walk east. He walked east because his compass was stuck east. He walked over hills and a highway before he reached where he thought was Nowhere. It was in Nowhere that Billy Bernard stood at the edge of a dirt road to raise his thumb to God and wait for the Devil to greet him. The sun soaked the colors of the earth, bright browns and beiges.

The clouds were thin and shy, hiding in the blue of the sky. This was the plan. He’d catch a ride with a stranger and go where they were going. A journey and a destination weren’t so important, as long as he didn’t stay in one place. Anywhere was an adventure.

It wasn’t until he spotted a taxi-yellow truck coming up the winding road that Nowhere become Somewhere. The car slowed to a stop beside his thumb. The passenger window rolled down to reveal a woman. She blew her bubblegum to the size of a beach ball and killed it with a sudden pop! She sucked the gum back between her China red lips and ran her fingers through her sunflower blonde hair. “Hey, kid,” she said, chewing violently with dead eyes. “Need a lift?”

Billy Bernard kept his thumb raised to God and smiled. You don’t greet the Devil with a frown. You didn’t greet an Angel with a frown either. “I sure do, ma’am!” he said loud and grinning. He glanced at the driver and glanced away quickly.

“Then get in,” said the man with the shades. He leaned his chin down to stare at Billy before turning his face back to the road.

The woman opened her door for Billy to crawl across her legs and squeeze and sit between their tall shoulders. The man pressed a cigarette to his lips. “Where to, little man?”

“I’m going wherever you’re going,” he said. He reached into his bag and showed the man his mother’s postcard. “I’ll get here eventually, though.”

The man took the postcard between his fingers. He flipped it first to read the back before reading the front. Welcome to Goodfella, it said. He looked at Billy from behind his shades.

The little man was sorting through his bag, unmoved by the strangers that pushed against his shoulders. “What’s your name, little man?” he asked. “Are you Billy?”

12

“Billy Bernard, sir,” Billy replied. He turned to the woman. “What’s your name?”

She popped a bubble and held out her hand, chewing. “Tatiana.” She pointed at the man with the shades. “And that’s Eustace.” She leaned her lips into the boy’s ear and whispered, “But you’re supposed to call him Ace.” “I’ll be Eustace when I’m old and gray,” Ace said. He started up the taxi-yellow truck with the cigarette and postcard pinched between his fingers. “Now, let’s ride. We’ve got a long way to go.”

“Where are we going?” Billy asked the woman.

She winked and said, “Wherever you’re going.”

The truck started up, shaking their shoulders and sending Billy’s teeth chattering. Ace slammed the heel of his boot on the gas, and they took off. Dirt trailed behind them in a tail. The world began to run fast outside, and he watched it run away until it was just colors.

The trees and dirt and empty space raced across the sides of the truck because the world was too big to stay in one place.

“So, Billy,” Ace yelled over the roar of the engine. “Me and Tatiana here, we’re performers.

We make people happy all over the world by teaching them how to live life one day at a time. Not one month at a time. Not one year at a time. One day at a time, because you never know if you’ve got a month or a year. You understand?”

Billy Bernard nodded. He understood. He thought about the calendar hanging in his kitchen. Each month was a different sunset or sunrise. Dates were etched into tiny white squares. Piano lessons. Violin lessons. Operas to attend. “Do you sing?” he asked after a while.

“Sometimes,” said Tatiana. She leaned back and closed her eyes as if she was recalling something beautiful. “But mostly we act. Have you ever acted before, Billy?”

“No.” “Well, it’s like lying for money. Say, you can help us.” She pinched his cheeks. “Hey, Ace, you think this kid could pass as a little old man?”

Ace looked him over and shrugged.

“We need someone to play an old man at the gig we’re heading to. You think you can play him?”

13

“Sure thing, ma’am!”

Tatiana laughed. “You know, you’re a cute kid. How’d your family let you get away?”

“They didn’t love me,” he said. “They loved money. With me gone, there’s probably more of it.”

Ace and Tatiana stared at each other over Billy’s head. Tatiana popped open the glove compartment and handed Billy a moldy beard and a top hat. “Here you go, champ. You ever performed on Broadway?”

Billy Bernard shook his head. Tatiana squeezed the hat over his dark hair and then tied the beard around his head. “Oh, Ace, ain’t he a doll?”

Ace pressed the cigarette between his lips and blew. “He’s a champ. A real champ. Can you do an old man voice, champ?”

Billy shook his head.

“That’s a shame. Alright. Just don’t say anything. Pretend to be deaf.”

Billy cupped a hand over his ear. “Huh?” Ace’s laughter roared louder than the engine. He nodded. “Exactly.”

They drove for about ten more miles before they finally made it to Broadway Bank.

“We’re here,” Tatiana said. “Look alive, kid.” She handed Ace a gun and a paper bag with holes cut out for eyes. She yanked her own paper bag over her blonde curls before looking down at Billy Bernard. “You ready? It’s showtime.”

Billy cupped a hand over his ear. “Huh?” The three of them stormed into the bank.

“Go stand watch over there, champ,” Tatiana told Billy.

Billy nodded and stood at the door, bending his back over like an old man. Ace got up on the nearest counter with his gun pointed to God and his voice greeting the people of the bank like an Angel. “Alright! Listen up! Everybody put your hands in the air!”

Billy Bernard didn’t even flinch. He couldn’t hear.

14

SEEN

By McKenna Meldrum

Driving in a car that has no heating in the middle of winter is one of the shittiest parts of my life, and that’s saying something. I live in a small, nowhere, who-gives-a-damn town, so back roads are always a safe bet to get somewhere in a hurry, or a good place to display teen angst through shenanigans in the middle of the night. Most farms are off the beaten trail. Children sneak onto the fields and make sport of stealing the most eggs from the hen huts or scaring the goats to make them yelp and faint. The most dangerous of these farm antics is the tradition of sneaking the largest cow off the farm, taking it to the school, and walking it to the top level of the building as a prank. This ritual is not only tolerated, but also expected since even the elders at the nursing home did it in their youth.

There’s an abandoned building in the middle of the woods that lays off a major road in my town. It is one of the most peaceful places I’ve ever been. Well, I feel peace in its chaos.

The old, run-down house doesn’t have a door anymore. As I approach the building in the brisk winter air with cigarette smoke clogging my lungs, the bass drum hits me. I suppose I am late to the first set the way I’m late for everything. I kick spray paint cans away from my feet by the entrance.

A beer bottle is lying on the dirty wooden floor, and so I pick it up and throw it against the wall as the chorus starts, yet nobody glances back at me. The Fender plays the same rolling three chords: A, G, D. I’m standing in the darkest part of the back corner with a blank expression on my face, swaying my head back and forth to the music. I lock eyes with Abigail, one of my close friends, or so I thought. She just glares at me emptily. Her bright hair shines against the harsh stage lights, capturing the attention of every guy. I walk out of the dark in a quick rhythmic pattern in unison with the refrain.

She saw past me on purpose, but I still saw the little shine in her eye. Though that shine may dull, I will hold on to those fantasies in my childish daydreams. One mindlessly written song after another, I grow more and more apathetic to this show.

It’s rounding two in the morning, and I have school tomorrow; this should be pleasant. *** Every Monday at 3:00 after school I go to work at the same nursing home I’ve worked at 15

for the past year and three months, which has felt like a lifetime of seeing people gradually disintegrate into a fine charcoal ash. It’s run down but you can tell it used to be a Disneyworld for the elderly. Now, it’s just full of dreams greying with age.

Carolyn, Abigal’s grandmother, was sitting in a black wooden rocking chair in the back corner of the bingo hall, knitting with light blue yarn to the beat of the same twenties song that constantly played on the record player. She slowly tilts her face, looking up at me as I approach her.

“Stephan,” she says in a southern slow coarse voice that mirrors how much she smokes.

“Darling, I thought you weren’t coming in on Saturdays anymore.”

“Mrs. Waters, it’s Monday.”

“Oh, why of course it is, dear. Young man, come sit down.” She ends the sentence with a loud gasping breath and a husky cough.

I swear that I see a fine smoke come out of her lungs.

We pause.

“Mrs. Waters…” I say.

“Carolyn.”

“Excuse me?”

“Carolyn, call me Carolyn.”

“Oh…Carolyn.” I stumble over my words. Calling an elder by her first name feels rude, and me feeling this way makes me feel childish.

“I need to talk to you…” I hesitate. “…about Abigail.”

“Now, Stephan, bless your little hopeful heart. You know my granddaughter just isn’t interested in you.”

She looks at me with large eyes, Abigail’s eyes, as if I was a lost child with hopeless dreams and in love with being in love and the worst part is that I know that I am.

The sound of a gruff deep voice behind me hollers from across the room, “42! 42!” Despite this man’s screams, the elderly still wiggle their tan hearing aids in their ears and ask for him to repeat the number in a rude, annoyed tone. “You’ve gotta speak up, Buster!”

16

JANE'S CAGE

By Elia Perez

Jane walked into the hotel lobby, her eyes burning from the sleepless nights she’d suffered the past couple of days. The heel of her boots made sharp angry quarter notes that echoed off the marble floor, as she headed for the coffee bar tucked neatly off to the side of the lobby. Her boots made a dull thud with every step as she walked on the shop’s carpeting; the aroma of coffee that had once brought her such joy had been reduced to merely another pollutant in her environment by the events of the past few days.

Jane marched off towards the elevator with her hot Americano in hand. She wished to make her ascension into hell a speedy one. She pressed the button for the elevator. Ding.

The button lit up.

Jane stood in front of the shiny gold elevator doors looking at the vacant reflection of the person she had once been. She was mesmerized by just how quickly a person could be warped into someone else. Her long wool coat was the same as that of the girl in the mirror and so was her beret. The soft dark curls seemed oddly familiar, and the round blue eyes seemed evanescent, almost as if she were recalling them from a dream forgotten.

But the face, the face, she somehow could not seem to remember ever having seen it. It was pale, heart shaped, with splotches of color— a pink line had taken hold where rouge lips had once been; translucent skin tinted purple beneath the eyes made the face look hollow, almost forsaken. She was not herself, not anymore. She was someone else now, someone new. All it had taken Jane to become Jane-who-is-no-longer-Jane was a phone call. The arrangements had all been made over the telephone last night.

Everything was set.

The elevator dinged, once again, and the doors opened. Once inside, she pushed the button for the top floor, the 26th floor — even though her appointment was actually only on the 20th.

Jane loved the inside of the elevator. The walls were made of glass, giving it the illusion of freedom. But she hated the sense of ascension, because it made her insides feel like they were sinking. It made her head feel like it was full of air. But she always made herself forget, because she loved the view.

The skyline was best seen as night faded into day, as the sun rose and painted the sky full 17

of violent highlights and shadows, full of blues that fade into violets edging the sun with its orange crown. She loved the way the sky turned into a canvas full of color on a winter dawn such as this. Jane loved to watch as the city awoke. She loved to watch as the drowsy mechanical citizens ambled about the streets searching for a ray of color in the grey dawn.

Mornings were always grey when seen from below because stubborn buildings towered over the streets and stole dawn’s light.

The elevator came to a stop, dangling in mid-air, 26 stories above the ground. Jane hated it. As the doors opened, she turned her attention from the waking city to her own reflection, and then to the reflection of the stranger boarding the elevator. She cocked her head to the side as their gazes locked on one of the elevator’s walls, neither one bothering to look away. Their figures were thin shadows cast over the cityscape.

He had that look about him, just as she did, weary, beaten down by their situations. It did not show in the slump of their shoulders or the lines on their faces, but rather on the layer of ice that covered their eyes. It showed in their meticulously composed attire they wore.

It showed on the curve of their lips, which pointed neither up nor down but rather out as if a “u” had been pulled out on both sides and stepped on until it mimicked the shoe that stepped on it. They did not greet each other nor did they look away from each other, but rather they exchanged curious nods that verified their existences to each other.

He leaned against one of the elevator walls and held her gaze.

“So what brings you here?” Jane asked.

“Same thing that brings you here.”

Jane was confused. She did not think that Henry would have told anyone, at least not yet anyways… Then again he was a narcissist, and she was his trophy, so what was there to keep him from running his mouth?

“Life’s misery and Fate’s cruel sense of humor,” he said without ever changing his expression.

“What makes you say that that’s the reason I’m here?” she shot back.

“The mask you wear.”

So he had seen it.

She saw his, but she could not see her own. Yet she knew it was there. She had seen her 18

mother’s cracked and faded mask last night in the morgue. Her face had been peaceful, but Jane knew better. Jane knew the truth. She could see it. Looking back Jane could see just how much she had been blind to. She could see how her mother’s serene expression, her composure, had all been a lie, a great big lie that Jane had chosen to believe. Jane had chosen to ignore her mother’s unhappiness. She had chosen to see a never-ending smile painted on her mother’s porcelain face. She had chosen not to see her mother’s true face, not to see her mother’s true heart.

Jane’s mother had not been Jane’s mother, but rather she had been a caged bird that had belonged to everyone but herself. She had been society’s modern lady. She had been her parents’ daughter. She had been her husband’s wife. She had been her children’s mother, but she had never been her own. Jane knew this just like she knew that she would never be her own— that is except for today.

Tomorrow she would no longer belong to herself. Tomorrow she would be someone else’s.

She would belong to the person she despised most in the world, Henry. Henry wore no mask because he had the freedom not to do so; his money and his power gave him that freedom. Tomorrow, she would be just another ornament for him to put on display— somewhere high up where everyone could see her and no one could help her— just as her father had done.

She had grieved her parents’ death, but only for a night, because that was all the time she had. Today was her only chance to experience freedom, because tomorrow she would be imprisoned in a golden cage. Just as her mother had been imprisoned in her marriage and just as she dreaded the thought of having to be. All her life, Jane had belonged to someone else. Yesterday she had been her father’s prized possession, and tomorrow she would be Henry’s. But today she was her own.

She had little to say in consenting to this marriage. If she married Henry, her little sister, Anne, might have a chance of surviving the car accident that had killed her parents and had left her comatose and in dire need of a costly surgery. But if she refused to marry him, her sister would die, and Jane would end up destitute and alone. Jane had no hope of securing a loan from the bank, any bank for that matter, considering Henry’s family owned half the banks in this town and was friends with the owners of the other half. She had no time to try and get a loan from out of town. And she had never counted on her father’s money, because all that was left of it was the prestige that came along with being a Croft— a dying family name.

Jane shifted her position but continued to hold the man’s gaze on the elevator’s wall as 19

they came to a halt. She wished she could stay and ride the elevator in silence all day. But she knew she had to leave that instant; otherwise she would stay and ride the elevator in regretful silence all day.

“Why do you hesitate?” he asked in the same tone he had used the first time he had spoken. The tone of someone who had fought every battle and lost every battle fought, but only now realized that there had never been anything to lose.

His face was passive, almost immobile, but the more she tried to focus on it the more amorphous it became.

“I don’t…I don’t want to live a lie.” Jane tilted her head to the side with surprise as she heard the truth in what she had said.

“No one ever does, but we settle for the lie because sometimes it’s better than the truth; and even if it isn’t we make ourselves believe it is because it has become our truth, our reality.” He pressed his lips into a thin line as if he had just remembered that he had left a kettle on the stove and had forgotten to turn it off.

Jane nodded and left the elevator hoping that if she had to live a lie she could deceive herself into believing that she was happy. Hoping she could paint a mask of joy that would never fade. Tomorrow she would have to see the masks people chose to wear, and she would have to believe them. She would drive herself mad if she did not see the masks, because she would have to see people’s raw faces. Pallid faces that were undefined and void. Faces that had a mask for everyone they’d ever met and even some for those they’d yet to meet.

Jane came to a halt in front of a door at the opposite end of the hall across from the elevator. She stood tall and silent taking in the fixtures on the onerous door that stood before her.

She knocked.

20

MALIK

By Jesse Offei-Nkansah

Malik walked into the house taking deep, slow breaths. Sweat soaked his shorts and tank top, both as black as his skin. His mother sat in front of the computer, looking at houses for sale. She turned to look at Malik as the door closed shut.

“Did you have a good exercise?” his mother asked.

Malik nodded his head, still trying to catch his breath. “I got the mail,” Malik said, laying the letters down on the countertop stained with fingerprints of sweat. The front of the letter read:

Jermaine Tyson 201 3rd Ave. Los Angeles, CA 90011

Maria J. Tyson 2014 117th Street Atlanta, GA 30303

She immediately shredded the letter. Malik’s phone began ringing, but Malik didn’t touch it.

“So, Malik, I’ve been thinking about our vacation this year,” she said.

“Me, too,” Malik said. “I was thinking New York this year.”

“And I was thinking three dollar raise,” she said with a laugh. “No, I was actually thinking somewhere local, like Six Flags.”

“You mean like last year,” Malik said, “and the year before, and before?”

21

“I know it can start to get old, but it’s really what we can afford right now.”

Malik’s phone continued ringing and vibrating.

“Are you going to answer that?” she asked.

Malik took the phone and looked at the caller ID. He turned the phone off, sat on the sofa and turned on the television. He started watching his favorite show. “Are you not going to take a shower either?”

“Right after this show,” Malik replied.

“Alright, well I have to run to the bank right now. But make sure you take a shower, you stink.”

Only minutes after his mother left, lightning struck and the lights went off. Malik scanned the room. Once he heard the sound of water dropping on the roof, he said, “Oh, no.” He went to the front door, looked through the peep hole, and saw nothing. He opened the door, took a step outside and looked around harder. He saw nothing but rain and road. He came back into the house even more soaked than before and shook the extra water to the ground. A gentle banging came from the back door, and Malik rushed to open it. On the other side he saw a small boy who came up no higher than his waist. Malik looked down at his red hair and knelt down to look in his blue eyes.

The boy carried a small blanket that had a little golden clip attached to one end that would always catch any light and shine it right into Malik’s eyes. He quaked in his bare feet from cold and from fear, and only the rain hid his tears.

“Jerrod?” Malik said, clutching the boy’s arms.

“She was smelling sugar again,” Jerrod said.

Malik brought him into the house quickly and sat them both next to the door in the dark.

They heard a woman outside screaming.

“Jerrod! Jerrod, where are you!” she screamed.

They listened to her feet running through puddles and heard her rattle through swing set chains. Malik held Jerrod to his chest, calming him down. The footsteps became louder.

The silhouette of a human torso came running against the back door window. Jerrod clutched Malik.

“Jerrod!” the voice came from the shadow. “Jerrod, I know you’re in there! Come out 22

right now!” A hand banged against the window as the tone grew louder and higher.

“Jerrod! Jerrod!”

It took moments for her to leave and wander down the rest of the street. They heard her stop at every door banging harder than the breath of the wolf, always yelling for Jerrod.

But they never heard a single door open. Malik looked down at Jerrod and saw him in tears. He stood up, went to the kitchen freezer, pulled out a bag of peas and brought it back to Jerrod.

“I don’t like peas,” Jerrod said with a whine.

“Well, we’re not going to eat ‘em,” Malik said.

He pulled two rubber bands out of his pocket and picked a frozen pea from the bag.

He strung the rubber band across two fingers, placed the pea in its center, drew it back, closed one eye, and took aim. Jerrod watched as he released the rubber band sending the pea flying right into the trashcan. Jerrod gasped and immediately took a rubber band.

Both shot peas all across the house. Glee and laughter replaced his wet eyes, deafening their ears to the shrill shrieking woman.

Malik noticed the door knob turning. “Go see what you can hit in that room,” Malik said as calmly as he could. He rushed to turn on the lights, gently nudged Jerrod inside and closed the door in front of him as he prepared for the worst.

The door opened up. Malik took a deep breath, ready to close it right back. Malik’s mother came through the door, shaking the water off of her umbrella. Malik emptied his lungs and relaxed his muscles.

“Hey, Malik,” she said.

“Hey,” he replied.

His mother took a sniff of air and looked at Malik up and down. “You haven’t taken a shower yet?” she asked.

“Yeah, sorry, I just kind of –” She looked at the opened bag of half melted peas scattered across the counter top. “Look at the mess you made. C’mon, this is ridiculous,” she said.

“Well, I was hungry.”

“Well, you’ve got to cook it first, Malik,” she said.

23

There was a faint giggle coming from the opposite room. “What was that?” she asked and without even waiting for an answer, she went to open the room door and saw peas scattered across the room.

“Hi, Ms. Tyson,” Jerrod said holding a rubber band and his own bag of peas.

She closed the door behind her and looked at Malik. Malik could see that she was noticing the screaming coming from behind the house.

“Once the storm is over, make sure he gets home, and you take a shower, you know you have an interview in the morning,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Malik.

24

SILVER AND GOLD

By Elizabeth Yarbrough

I. The only sound in the clean, white kitchen is the quiet ticking of the cuckoo clock on the mantle. Mrs. Myra Gales stands in the middle of the kitchen, like a statue, her only movement betrayed by the flick of her eyelids, her breathing, and the gradual tightening of her white knuckles on the checkered tablecloth. Mrs. Gales’ watery eyes are fixed on the clock, watching the second hand slowly move around its face. The cuckoo clock is in the shape of a little house, with bright blue and yellow tulips lining its base – a cheery little home. An anniversary gift, bought in a little tourist shop in Berlin that Mr. Gales selected for the resemblance to the tulips planted in Mrs. Gales’ front yard. If Mrs. Gales bothers to look out of the kitchen window, she would see the empty garden beds, ready and waiting for this year’s selection of tulip bulbs.

Upstairs comes the sound of running water–the sound of Mr. Gales performing his morning ritual of washing his face after his shave. Just as punctual as ever, it is now 6:43 in the morning.

Mrs. Gales waits at her vigil in front of the cuckoo clock, her knuckles bone white. Above her, Mr. Gales can be heard walking around the bedroom, probably selecting one of his fine, tailored suits or slipping on his gold-embossed watch. It had been a gift from Mrs. Gales, back when they were newlyweds, travelling to Europe on a dazzling honeymoon trip. His watch always ran a few minutes slow, but whenever Mrs. Gales asked if he wanted it repaired, he would reply with a shrug and a soft, “I don’t mind.”

At the sound of Mr. Gales’ footsteps creaking down the stairs, Mrs. Gales straightens up and smooths out the tablecloth, though she is hard pressed to find any wrinkles. It is 6:47.

“Do you need a lunch made?” Mrs. Gales asks as Mr. Gales enters the kitchen, rubbing at the skin underneath his watch.

“No, I’m eating out with colleagues,” he replies, glancing at the clock on top of the mantle.

Mrs. Gales nods, her hands clasping together in front of her. Colleagues. Back when Mrs. Gales accompanied her husband to his work socials, she had met Mr. Gales’ colleagues.

25

All charming businessmen and women, in sleek suits and dresses. Mrs. Gales hadn’t been invited along to those socials for a long time.

Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Mr. Gales clears his throat, squinting up at the cuckoo clock and then down at his watch, checking to see if the time is correct. As he moves, the light glints on something around Mr. Gale’s wrist; it’s a silver wristwatch. Silver. Silver, like the lithe woman with the curly blonde hair at that dinner party, bedecked in shimmering, light jewelry; the girl with the light, sparkling laugh that made Mrs. Gales, in her matronly black dress and old pearls, pale in comparison.

Mr. Gales shifts again, and Mrs. Gales straightens, her thin fingers twining together. She stares at his wrist for a moment, then up into his dull brown eyes. “Did you get a new watch?”

Mr. Gales stops, his eyes flicking to his wrist. “The old one was running too slow.”

The silver metal glints in the kitchen light, sparkling against his skin.

“I need to get some jewelry repaired,” Mrs. Gales says in response, talking fast. “Those old pearls you gave me.”

Mr. Gales takes his eyes off the face of the cuckoo clock, glancing at his wife. “Pearls wear down with age, don’t they? Why don’t you buy a new necklace?”

“I like this one. You bought them for our wedding, remember?”

Mr. Gales slides his eyes up to meet his wife’s, and his feet shift on the spotless kitchen tile. Mrs. Gales leans forward, her hand tightening its grip on the other, but as she opens her mouth, the clock on the mantle chimes. Cuckoo, cuckoo–a little bird pops out of the topmost window of the clock house. It is 7 o’clock.

“Time for me to go,” he says, picking up his briefcase and heading towards the door. “I may be late for dinner.” His tone is impassive, carefully casual. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Mrs. Gales watches him from the kitchen table, white hands shaking as she smiles at her husband. “Yes, see you tonight.”

II. Small slivers of light seep through the cracks in the blinds, illuminating the particles of dust 26

drifting through the air at a lethargic pace, as if the dust is caught in molasses. I shift on the bed, the coverlet tangling about my ankles as I stare up at the revolving ceiling fan, palming the cool surface of the cell phone in my hand. The rest of the apartment is dark, and silent. It is empty, except for me.

A clock ticks away somewhere, maybe in the kitchen. I know it’s morning, but I could care less about the exact time. The fan hums above me, a dim sound in the large apartment, the sound of whirring blades slicing air just barely audible. A pipe gurgles. Something creaks. This room isn’t as quiet as I had thought.

Nor is it as dark. The red walls of the room reflect the orange sunlight and seem to glow faintly in the dark, adding a red sheen to everything. Even with the lights all turned off, the peeping sunlight from the blinds expose yesterday’s discarded clothes strewn about the floor; one stray high heel has lost its partner and is lying alone in the corner after it had been kicked off and sent hurtling in the vague direction of the closet. I don’t have a very good kick, and not much aim to speak of, either. The closet, at least, is still a dark mess of indistinct shapes and shadows. If I bothered to get out of bed, I know that the dark blobs lurking in the closet would transform into almost every kind of clothing imaginable, to everyday business suits, to elaborate evening gowns. I haven’t even had the chance to wear it all, yet.

I shift again, trying to find a comfortable position, and the sunlight catches on a piece of metal. A silver necklace spills out of the vanity drawer, glinting in the morning light. It is a small gift, out of many small, irrelevant gifts, but I like the sterling silver chain. Silver jewelry is much better than gold, after all. It’s not as stifling.

My cellphone screen lights up and begins buzzing in my hand, sending an urgent, blaring vibration up my arm and into my chest. A sigh slips out of my mouth as I bring the screen closer to my face, unsurprised by the caller ID. It’s about time he called.

I let it ring for a few more moments before sliding my thumb across the screen and answering with a purposefully carefree, “Hello?”

I’m only half listening to the voice on the other end of the phone. My eyes roam around the dim room, looking at all the shadowy furniture and clothing in a new light. I murmur something, just so that he knows that I’m listening. He’s just giving the same old excuse that he always gives, anyway.

“I don’t know…” I say, sitting up. I wind a finger through my hair, feeling out the knots and the tangles. Glancing around the empty room once again, I continue, “I’m very busy at the 27

moment, Jonathan.”

My hand tightens on the phone, and I swing my legs over the bed, suddenly restless.

Phone still pressed against my ear, I listen to his tiny words, while bending over to pick up the lone shoe and to search for its missing pair. “Why do I always have to go along with your schedule?” I ask, my voice sounding too demanding even to my own ears. I swallow down my irritation and keep talking. Stubbornness is a flaw of mine, unfortunately. “I always give up more than you ever do.”

Now came the excuses. The paranoid wife, the busy schedule, the taxing job to pay for his high standard of living. I’ve heard it all before. Tossing the shoe into the closet, I turn to the vanity, still half-listening to his cliched words. A silver ring embedded with diamonds glitters on the table and I scoop it up with a fluid motion and plop it in one of the drawers.

I suppose I, too, am a contributing factor to his high standard of living.

He’s still talking, and I permit him to, for the time being. One-handed, I open the jewelry drawers, not quite sure what I am looking for. My fingers shift through the chains of necklaces, the jingling charms of bracelets, the loops of rings, and the unfriendly prick of earrings. He’s finally winding down his speech–he can get quite verbose when he’s properly wound up–and I nod into the phone and murmur a few words of reconciliation to soothe his ruffled feathers. This prompts him to respond in kind; of course he didn’t mean to say it quite like that; he’s under so much pressure at work, after all.

“Let’s go to dinner.” I cut him off, a smile growing on my face at the idea. I blink at my appearance in the vanity mirror, one hand going to straighten the bedhead absently as my mind begins to properly wake up and spin into action. “Yes, let’s go out to dinner tonight!

To the fancy French cuisine place you took me to.”

I spy something in one of the open drawers, as he bumbles out a reply. My hands reach for it, holding it up to look at it in the dim light. The metal hands of the watch tick forward as I hold it up, the silver band glowing a red orange from the reflection of the sunlight. I remember this watch. He had bought it for me, and a matching one for himself, after I had told him that his old gold watch was running too slow. He’s sweet like that sometimes; he knows that I despise being late.

“Oh, just tell her that you’ll be eating out with colleagues. She won’t know the difference,” I say, brushing off his worries as I slip the watch on. I hold out my wrist, studying the watch, the corners of my mouth quirking up with approval.

I turn away from the vanity, one hand on my hip. “Alright then, it’s settled. I’ll see you at 28

six. Don’t you dare be late!” A pause. “I love you, too. Bye.” I let out a breath as I hang up, a triumphant grin on my face. We are meeting at six, and according to this watch, I have six hours to prepare. Striding over to the windows, I pull up the blinds, squinting my eyes against the sunlight that streamed into the apartment, filling the entire room with a golden light.

III. Mrs. Gales watches his hand, seeing the lights play on the smooth surface of his watch, and how she can almost, almost see a reflection of herself. The lights from the chandeliers float down from above, like little, burning stars, illuminating the faces of the partygoers below.

Glasses clink and fizz with bubbling, crystal liquid, and the polite laughter and murmur of conversation rises up and fills the room with a blanket of sound around her. Women are bedecked in shining jewelry that hang from their ears and necks, laughing and glittering underneath the golden light. Men, confined in dress suits and ties knotted around their necks, puff out their chests and shake hands with strong grips. Everywhere are smiles– some genuine, some forced–as the annual Warren & Harding Spring Gala commences with a speech and a toast. Crystal glasses are raised in the air with a smattering of applause.

Amid the businessmen and women, Mr. and Mrs. Gales stand with space between them, both with drinks in hand and smiles on their faces. Mr. Gales tugs at the tie wrapped around his neck, the corners of his mouth quirking up when an esteemed colleague passes.

The watch around his wrist glints a cold silver in the light. Mrs. Gales clears her throat, wrapping her black shawl around her shoulders, even though she isn’t cold, and offers her husband a weak smile. He smiles back, an automatic motion, and just as he opens his mouth to speak, a colleague of his steps up and engages him in conversation about the company’s newest business venture.

Mrs. Gales deflates, an empty feeling of a missed chance lodging in her chest, and she turns away from her husband, only to see a woman walking up to Mrs. Gales with purpose in her high-heeled stride. There is a flash of recognition, but before Mrs. Gales could register any of it, the woman is already upon her.

She stands directly across from Mrs. Gales, her silver necklace draped around her neck, making her skin shimmer underneath the lights. Her lipsticked mouth is curled in a perfect smile, and she reaches out a hand to shake. “Rhiannon Steller. I work as a secretary here.”

29

Drawing herself up, Mrs. Gales tries to match Rhiannon’s confidence and smirking smile, as she gives the other woman a quick shake of the hand. “Myra Gales. My husband is head of the business department here.”

Rhiannon laughs, a light, tinkling laugh that matches the background noise of the ballroom perfectly. “Oh, I know your husband,” she says, her face glowing, but none of that soft light touches her grey eyes. “Tell me, is he that uptight even when he’s at home?”

Mrs. Gales’ eyebrows crease together, and she wraps her shawl around herself tight, drawing herself up, or in. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Mr. Gales is a kind man. Mrs. Gales knew him better than this Rhiannon Steller ever would.

He was a kind man. The kind of man who would carry her up the steps to their new home, fumbling with the key and doorknob but refusing to put her down. The kind of man who would hold her shoes while she danced in the spray of the Baltic Sea, kicking up sand with her feet, a honeymoon glow on her face. The kind of man who wouldn’t change the time on his watch, just to keep time with her. He was the kind of man who wouldn’t change much at all, except in places where Mrs. Gales couldn’t see.

The woman, with her silver jewelry and lipsticked smile, nods in agreement with Mrs. Gales words, a noiseless laugh puffing through her nose. “Just keep an eye on him. He’s also the kind of man who would be taken advantage of, if you’re not careful. He’s too generous for his own good.”

The frown on Mrs. Gales’ face deepens, and she can almost feel the shadows pool in the growing wrinkles at the corner of her mouth. Catching herself, Mrs. Gales glances around at the people chatting around them, paying Mrs. Gales and Rhiannon no heed. Her gaze lingers on the solid back of her husband before it flicks back to meet the steel of the woman’s eyes in front of her.

“I don’t see what you mean. He wouldn’t be in the position he is in if he let just anyone step all over him.”

Rhiannon waves away Mrs. Gales’ assertion, crossing her arms in front of her chest, every movement calculated to accentuate the curves of her red dress. “Oh, yes, he’s good at his job and all that. I was just saying that if I was his wife, I wouldn’t give him so much free rein.” She smiles sweetly, a saccharine coat over the acid that leaks into her voice.

Swallowing, Mrs. Gales stares at the woman, momentarily at a loss for words. She breathes in, chest expanding, and narrows her eyes. “I am not my husband’s keeper. He… he knows 30

what’s right and what’s wrong.”

“I’m sure,” the woman purrs, blinking her grey eyes lazily at Mrs. Gales. She steps forward, her jewelry glittering on her skin, and reaches out to touch the string of pearls around Mrs. Gales’ neck. “Beautiful. Are they antique?”

Mrs. Gales stiffens as the woman takes a pearl in between her thumb and forefinger, studying the yellowing beads. Trying to step away from the woman, while maintaining the polite facade, Mrs. Gales clears her throat. “My husband gave them to me. A wedding present, actually.”

The woman’s grip doesn’t loosen on the pearls, her fingers tight. Mrs. Gales can feel the woman’s scrutiny–feel the cold silver eyes fixed on the mottled, yellowing jewelry.

Mrs. Gales tries to pull away, the pearls tightening around her neck. For a moment, the two women struggle, silent and tight-lipped underneath the blazing lights of the party, hemmed in by the smiling, picture-perfect socialites and party-goers. Eyes meet and clash, silver gray against golden hazel as the tension on the necklace builds.

The sounds of the party fade away, and all Mrs. Gales can hear is the rush of blood in her ears, the heavy breath of the red woman in front of her, the creaking of the band of the necklace. Mr. Gales, finished with his conversation, turns just in time to see the string of the necklace snap, sending a cascade of pearls raining down to the marble floor.

The pearls bounce against their legs, scattering under feet and tables. They roll away, faster than Mrs. Gales can keep up, until only remnants of the old, treasured necklace are left behind.

IV. I’m breathing fast, the room spinning slightly, and I step back as the pearls fall from the wife’s neck, bouncing off of legs and feet and scattering to the floor. It’s a little like a cartoon; I almost expect someone to step on one and fall dramatically to the floor. The wife clutches at her neck, feeling the empty space where the decaying old pearls had been. She is a little comical, too. Her eyes bulge out, and her mouth drops like the mouth of a fish, opening and closing without a sound.

I see Jonathan excuse himself from his conversation–took him long enough–and begin to make his way over. I purse my lips and let out a small, irritated breath through my nose. It’s time to play the nice, helpful secretary before the pale, wordless woman finds her tongue 31

and begins to fuss.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, hoping that I sound sincere enough for the shocked bystanders around us. Jonathan’s wife just gapes at me, her brown eyes still wide with shock. I reach out a hand to barely brush against her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

She shakes me off, her eyes suddenly flashing with anger. My hand falls back. Maybe she isn’t as much of a wallflower as I had thought. How about? She bends down to the floor, trying to pick up the pieces of the shattered necklace in her hands. Her shoulders are shaking, but her face is averted so I can’t see her expression. I feel a little bad now; I didn’t mean to break her necklace. I’m not that heartless.

“What’s going on?” Jonathan appears at my shoulder, looking at me for the explanation.

His wife is kneeling in front of us, still trying to scramble for her pearls. It’s a useless venture, but she probably knows that. Most of that long string of pearls is long gone, hiding under tables and crushed and kicked by feet.

I shoot Jonathan a look, crossing my arms in front of me. I don’t know why, but the sight of him just standing there, doing nothing, makes a wave of irritation well up in my chest. He never was an assertive man – at least not while I knew him – but this is just ridiculous.

“I don’t know,” I reply, my chin lifting as I stare up into his eyes. The anger rises, and my heart thuds almost painfully in my chest, thoughts swirling around my mind. Fix this mess.

You’re to blame, anyway. You bought those pearls, and now look at what they’ve caused.

“Why don’t you go help her?”

His wife is still kneeling on the floor, her hands full with what she could salvage. She looks up, noticing her husband, stares up at him, like a fish through glass bowl, and he just stares back. A small, yellowed pearl slips out of her overflowing hands, unnoticed, and falls to the floor with a tiny clacking sound, rolling away, as if to escape.

At my pointed question, Jonathan looks at me, his usually serene eyes disturbed, and he slowly bends down to the floor, reaching for the one that had fallen. Something in my chest tightens to the point of pain as I watch the silent couple try to gather up the pearls, not touching or looking at each other. Jonathan glances around, keenly aware of the eyes of his coworkers on him, and clears his throat, obviously wanting this ordeal to be over. His wife is still struggling to hold back the wetness in her eyes, and it makes her pale face look even older underneath the painfully bright lights of the chandeliers.

Silently, I watch as a pearl rolls to a stop, bouncing against my red high heel. The wife sees this, and she looks up at me, still crouched down on the ground. Red-rimmed eyes, pale 32

face that was probably once considered beautiful by her husband. Her black dress makes her light skin look almost skeleton pale, yellowing pearls overflowing from her cupped hands. Her husband crouches beside her, face averted, staring not at his wife and her trouble and not at me, but at some point in the distance. How pathetic. It’s so pathetic.

I kick the pearl back with my foot, and it skitters across the marble floor, glinting underneath the lights. The wife scrambles to pick it up, trying to hold onto what she already salvaged. How can she not see that it is just a necklace?!

“Have a nice night,” I say, the words suddenly spilling out of my mouth, heated. I cast a gaze on the two people below me.

I make to turn away, and Jonathan raises his head to catch my parting glance. His mouth opens, as if he is going to say something, maybe something that would explain this all away and make life return to how it was – a small part of me desperately wants that, is desperately screaming at him to just say something. But I gather myself up, give him a cool smile, and add in my best professional tone, “I’ll see you at the office, Mr. Gales.”

My feet carry me away, heels echoing on the white marble floor, leaving the silent couple crouched on the floor, cupping the remains of what had once been in their palms.

I’m leaving parts of my heart behind with them, I know, parts that won’t ever return. No more parties, no more glittering things, no more thrills and secrets in the dark. But that is fine with me. Those things can be found elsewhere. But for now, I am walking with my head held high.

33

CINDERELLA: DEMON SLAYER

By Dennisha Tate

A human child born of cinders, cursed to live a life of servitude and cruelty, doomed to the unpleasantness of a cruel step-family, dreams of the day when a life of happiness is finally granted upon her person. The Fates, however, have already decided that this child will either save the world from the Demon Apocalypse or lead the beasts into the heart of the human world and destroy them all by the eve of her nineteenth birthday.

1.

In the deepest pits of the Underworld, Overlord Milonosis sat on his throne, pondering what the Fates had in store for him and his kin. Milonosis was a creature with red, scaly skin that shimmered under the fires that raged beneath him, a slithering lizard tail that twitched and swung with every move he made, twin spiral horns on either side of his head like twisted towers, eyes that shone like polished silver coins and large, leathery, black bat wings.

“Why do the Fates test me so?” he asked in a deep, gravelly voice. “As if a CHILD could possibly upset my plans. Much less a human one!”

His bride, a dracaena by the name of Sorte, coiled around him and hissed, “Do not let those bothersome bunch of biddies anger you, love. Soon you will rule the Overworld with an iron fist.”

“But what of the child?” he cried. “Even as we speak, it is being brought into existence!”

Milonosis rose from his throne and leapt high into the air, landing on the opposite end of the throne room. “SORTE!” he barked over his shoulder, “Send Slime and Sludge to the Overworld to get rid of that child!”

“Of course, My Lord,” she complied, bowing at the waist as she did so.

“And lest you forget, dear wife, I do not tolerate failure.”

With that, he left, slamming the enormous mahogany doors with enough force to leave the entire room shaking and shuddering. *** 34

In the Overworld lay Sharonstay, a small, quiet town that managed to keep track with the rest of the world, while maintaining the rustic charm all tiny towns managed to have. The townsfolk were constantly peaceable and pleasant to be around. The air was fresh and clean, even on the worst of days, and all forms of plant life flourished during every season.

In short, Sharonstay was a secluded little bundle of charm that comfortably nestled itself in the safety of the gentlest part of the forest.

It was a lazy spring day, the kind that had a peaceful stillness and radiating warmth.

The pudgy, carefree Mayor Loransby sighed. “Ahh, the sky is clear, air calm, and the sun is pouring radiance all over my glorious town. Nothing could ruin this day.” His wife nodded beside him.

And for one utterly pristine moment, tiny Sharonstay was absolutely, perfectly, still. It was as if the universe was paused. Nothing moved, there were no noises apart from the grass rustling in the wind. The mayor and his wife took a deep breath, taking in the unspoiled day.

This peace was broken mere seconds later by the chaotic squeal of speeding tires and the noisy clutter of garbage bins spilling over. Shocked, Mayor and Mrs. Loransby shot up from their chairs and raced to the edge of their wide porch. Just in time, they witnessed a powder blue compact car emerge from the adjacent street like it was competing for first place in an invisible race car derby, hitting the turn so sharply it teetered on two wheels.

The car almost capsized before slamming roughly right side up and continuing on its speedy way. Inside the car, local oddball Clyde Rotsday had his arm stretched backwards to grasp the hand of his very pregnant wife who was very much in labor and also very worried that they might not make it to the hospital in one piece. Since this was their first child, there was no doubt they were anxious, especially because the child was arriving two weeks early.

“C-Clyyyde!!” She panicked as he flew down yet another hill. “Aaaaahhh! Slow down!! The way you drive, I’ll ha-have this baby in the car! YAAAHH!!” she cried as he turned much too sharply down the corner.

Ordinarily, Luminesta Rotsday was the epitome of grace, serenity and eccentricity. Her long, pale, cornstalk yellow hair was often found shimmering, no matter how she styled it and regardless of weather conditions. The only way to describe her complexion would be to compare it to the moon, and even that couldn’t completely capture the color, the flawlessness, the unrealness of it. She also had the type of slender frame that models 35

worked years for. Luminesta’s voice was golden and sweeter than honey.

But the one thing that truly defined her, the very thing she was named after, was her eyes.

Shifting from bright china blue to an abysmal black, Luminesta’s eye color could change depending on her state of mind. But they always sparkled. When her eyes were bright, anybody around her almost always seemed to perk up a bit. And those in the presence of the black-eyed Luminesta seemed to become immediately distraught. However, there was one thing that very few of the Sharonstayers knew about the curious Luminesta.

She was a Magick-wielding Demon Slayer.

Along with a handful of others, Luminesta held off hordes of rogue demons from destroying the small town. But as the strongest Demon Slayer, leader of the guild, and a rare Magick-wielder, her main concern was keeping Milonosis and his army at bay until the Demon Slayer of the Highest Prophecy came to them.

Although that would have to wait until she had her baby. If she even made it whole to Sharonstay Goliath Hospital that is. Luminesta was just about to warn Clyde about the deer standing frozen just mere feet from them when they hit it. Something like fire burned through every cell in her body. It struck with such fierceness that her back bowed at an unnatural angle, and the pain of it was so intense that she barely managed to catch herself when her klutz of a husband swerved around the poor, unlucky animal.

What is this? She thought. Where is this pain coming from? I know it can’t be a contraction.

That was different. But it came from the baby. Could it be…? Her eyes widened in fear as the possibility dawned. No…NO! Not my child! It can’t be my child!

Tears dotted the corners of her eyes while the pain subsided. Seconds later, she cried.

Large marble-sized tears ran down her face to the felt seat. Luminesta’s heart tore in half, and she had to hug herself to keep from completely breaking down.

Clyde stopped the car and rushed to her side. “Lumi! Lumi, sit up! Come on, sweetie, we are at the hospital.” He paused when he saw her tears. “Luminesta? Do the contractions hurt that much?”

She nodded and clung to him as he carried her inside.

I cannot believe this…I-I have to tell him. Before Milonosis sends someone to do away with me and our child. *** 36

Slime and Sludge were creatures like their mother, twin slimy dracaenas that obeyed every command they were given. The only differentiating factors between them were the colors and designs of their eye decorations and the cadence of their voices.

“Where should we go to find the child, Sludge?” Slime hissed.

“We go wherever Luminesta is. And, should the Fates be on our side today, we could possibly weaken her enough to break down the barrier and let even more of our kin through.”

“Or we could kill her and get rid of it completely.”

At the thought, both sisters grinned evilly and dissolved into the shadows to search for the Magick-wielding Slayer Queen. *** “GAAHH!!”

If anyone had been standing outside of Clyde and Luminesta’s room on the delivery floor, they would have assumed Luminesta was suffering labor pains.

“Are you okay, Clyde? I didn’t mean to grab that hard.”

“I’m fine,” he strained, cradling his injured hand.

So far the mother-to-be had endured her labor pains with relative calm. The father-to-be had not. He had been in even more of a panic ever since Luminesta was wheeled away to the delivery room for preparation. The part that killed him was the fact that she went in without him.

What if something goes wrong? What if the baby dies? What if Lumi dies? Clyde’s eyes opened wide as a sickening possibility snuck into his mind: What if they both die? His heart seemed to speed at a hundred miles per hour, and his throat swelled twice its size. Where is she? Please let my family be okay.

Just as he was about to lose all hope, his wife’s voice drifted soothingly into his ears.

“Oddball, could you please stop drilling a hole in the floor and come hold my hand?”

37

Clyde couldn’t run to her side fast enough.

Three hours later, the attending nurse announced that Luminesta was ready to deliver and Dr. Linsly would be in shortly to help her along.

“NO!” she yelped. “No, Dr. Aster is supposed to be my physician!! Where is he?”

Surprised by her outburst, the nurse warily told her that he was taking a coffee break.

“Then get him. Here. Now.” She snarled and her eyes glowed a terrifyingly unreal golden red, her pupils distorting and twisting in an unnatural pattern.

The nurse was so unnerved that he had Dr. Aster in her room in less than two minutes.

When the doctor entered, he was staring intently at his clipboard.

“Mrs. Luminesta Rotsday? Oh, Lumi.” He looked up at the couple and smirked. “I haven’t seen you in ages. I’ll be—“ “This isn’t the time for formality, Henry! This is important!”

Henry sighed and closed the door quietly. “Important enough to say in front of your husband?”

“Yes,” she whispered, glancing down shamefully.

“Oh, what is it, then?” Dr. Aster asked.

“I-It’s my child. Our child.”

“What about it?”

“Nineteen years from now…Our baby will be the Demon Slayer of Prophecy.”

“Impossible,” he gasped. “How can you tell?”

“Every now and again, fire would radiate all throughout my body, centering from where the child is.”

“That is not proof enough, and you know it, Bright Eyes.”

“Explain the dracaenas just outside of the hospital barriers, then.”

“If I could interject,” Clyde squeaked, speaking up for the first time, “but what exactly are you two talking about?”

38

Henry and Lumi shared an uncomfortable look. How could they explain what was happening before it was too late? Mr. Rotsday wasn’t particularly the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he wasn’t a total dud either. Just as his now mysterious wife parted her lips to begin the explanations, he held up a hand.

“Never mind that now. Do we not have a baby to deliver?” He cocked his head to the side and gazed into Luminesta’s eyes.

She nodded and grasped his hand. I just hope the barrier can hold long enough for me to recover and dispose of those meddlesome dracaena twins. *** Below, on the edge of forest closest to where the hospital lay, Slime and Sludge slithered around each other in glee.

“Do you see this, sister? That sneaky Slayer is hospitalized!” Sludge screeched, her already grating soprano becoming even shriller. “This means our job will be even easier!!”

“Calm yourself, Sludge. While the Queen Slayer is indeed incapacitated, she still has enough strength to keep us at bay.”

Although Slime kept a level head, there was no mistaking the happy anxiety in her slippery voice. It was a rare occasion to catch a Slayer off guard, especially one as powerful as Luminesta. A few moments’ patience was an adequate sacrifice if it meant the death of the biggest thorn in all of demon kyn’s side and valuable information about the Child of Destruction.

“I can almost taste her demise,” the deeper voiced, purple-eyed Slime rumbled.

“Any idea why she’s here?”

“Not a clue, but it must be something devious. Plus, there is no doubt that she killed it in the process.”

“True, but we will finish her,” Sludge snickered. *** After five hours of labor, a beautiful baby girl greeted the world with a wail. She had wisps of Lumi’s blonde hair and fair skin. Her tiny eyelids were dusted with the color of the sky during sunrise. Clyde’s plump rose pink bow and arrow pucker sat pristinely under an itty39

bitty button nose that flared wildly, taking in all of the harsh hospital chemicals. The baby measured at 19 inches, weighing a hefty eight and a half pounds. Luminesta and Clyde’s child was perfectly normal.

“See?” Henry chastised. “Your girl is fine, Queenie. Now, you wanna wipe this dunce’s memory so we can get back to keeping demons at bay?”

She shook her head sadly. “I cannot. He has a right to know.”

“What right?” the doctor growled, quickly becoming impatient with his leader’s pigheadedness.

“The right as my husband and father of my child,” she told him. “Plus you have no jurisdiction to decide whether or not I reveal our existence and to whom. Should you have any qualms, you can take it up with the Council Board.” A devious smirk crawled across her face.

“You know you’re head of the Council and could overrule their decisions.”

“So drop it, Aster.”

“Fine,” he scoffed,” I’ll just banish those demons from my land.” With that, Dr. Aster reached in the closet and pulled a spear-shaped object out. “He had better not end up in my psych ward babbling about things you told him.”

“He won’t. I swear on my honor.”

The only response she got was a roughly slammed door that startled baby Rotsday and brought tears to the little one’s eyes. Luminesta shushed her newborn before shakily peering up towards Clyde.

“Mi amor, I—“ “Could I hold her?” he asked, softly stroking his daughter’s blonde curls.

“Wha-?”

He looked at her deliberately and chuckled. “Is it against your apparent secretive rules to ask to hold your own kid?”

“N-No…” Taken aback, she gently shifted and handed over the freshly swaddled cocoon of baby. I 40

think I may have acted too soon, she thought, chewing her bottom lip nervously.

Clyde couldn’t take his eyes off of the gorgeous little girl in his arms. She looked every bit like her mother, with only a few of his own physical traits. He had worried that she might have picked up on one of his family’s unfavorable traits or turn out underweight and sickly.

Maybe she might have choked herself or gotten stuck on the way out... In short, he had bet on the worst and came out lucky.

“Clyde? Please speak to me,” she begged, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Tell me another time.”

“Huh?” “Tell me about your secret another time. This way, your superiors get peace of mind, you can hold off telling me until you’re better, and we can push through parenthood.” He took his eyes from their daughter and smiled at his wife. “Plus, we have to give her a name.”

With tears in her eyes, she laughed. “Well, for one thing I am the superior, so there is no reason to worry about that. Henry was merely disposed with the fact that I just wantonly do whatever I will, but he holds no real power.”

“Good. So are we gonna leave this girl nameless for the rest of her life or not?”

“Give her to me. My little Slayer Princess.”

The baby mewled quietly in protest to being constantly shifted around. Lumi just rocked her until she settled down. *** Meanwhile, the battle between the demon slayers and the dracaenas was going downhill.

The snake twins tossed the Slayer pack around, but their patience was growing thin. The bodies of many Slayers were strewn around the grounds, red staining the spring grass. Out of twelve, only four remained.

“Go grab that idiot leader of ours and get her to banish these demons!” said one of the remaining Slayers.

“I would hurry if I were you!” one of the snake twins squealed. “Soon we’ll be close enough to enter on our own!”

Slime roared towards the general area in which Luminesta’s hospital room was located.

41

“Come out, you cowardly woman, and fight us!”

Luminesta felt her ear prick just before the deafening bellow reached her. The result of the cry shook the room unnervingly. It also caused a startling reaction in the yet-to-be-named newborn.

Of course, it popped her all too sensitive ears and she began to wail. However, one other thing happened that didn’t occur to any of the other crying children; Luminesta’s baby produced Magick.

It was a defensive type of Magick, meant to expand and protect the area in which the evil was sensed and also to expel said evil from getting any closer than it already did. Had her mother not been holding her, the girl may have very well destroyed the hospital. Instead, the burst of energy merely affected Luminesta, whose fears about her newborn being the Child of Prophecy were rapidly rekindling.

Nonono!!! Not her! Anyone but her! Take me, take some random stranger, but just don’t take her!

Luminesta’s body shook with the force of her sobs. If it were physically possible for a heart to tear into shreds, hers would have. This was the worst possible thing that could have happened. It was only a matter of time before she had to go.

“I guess I have to make the most of it, then.” Sighing, she handed the wailing baby to Clyde and sauntered to the tall hospital window. “God, I hate being right.”

“Lumi? What are you thinking of doing?”

She stood with her back to him, pushed the window pane open, and stepped on the sill. A flash of light enveloped her. When the light vanished, she was dressed completely differently. No more bland, gray hospital gown. Luminesta took on the role of warrior queen. From head to toe, slick silver armor shimmered in the sunlight. But unlike any traditional armor, it was fitted to allow better maneuverability. Two simple designs marked the chest and sides: a plain yellow flower and swirling ribbons.

“Seraphina,” she declared.

“What?”

She giggled, turned and repeated herself. “Seraphina. Seraphina Xandria Noemi Alexis Rotsday. That will be her name. ‘Seraphina’ means ‘burning fire,’ ‘Xandria’ means ‘man’s 42

defender,’ ‘Noemi’ is Italian for ‘my delight,’ and I’ve always liked the name ‘Alexis.’ At least, I can set up her success this way.” She turned back to the open window and said, “Do not let her go through this world all alone. Keep her safe for as long as you can.

Remarry after I am gone. You should probably call my sister after I jump. Tell her that I was reckless again. She’ll be here in a heartbeat. And remember these two things, if nothing else. Chi ama, crede. Chi be vive, ben muore. He who loves, trusts. A good life makes an easy death.”

Leaving her small family alone and confused, she closed her eyes, pushed herself from the windowsill and started her free fall down six floors. *** I apologize, my clumsy husband, but this is something I have to do. I know I won’t come back in perfect condition, but I will return to you today. Snapping open her golden red eyes, Luminesta let loose a terrifying battle cry.

“I would know that sound anywhere,” Slime gurgled, batting Henry away. “About time, Slayer Queen, I was beginning to think we had to get you ourselves.”

“I somewhat owe you for the damage you’ve dealt,” Luminesta deadpanned.

Sludge slunk behind the Slayer. “You mean rousing your baby brat awake, hmm?”

Half a second of panic ran through her before she calmed herself. So long as they don’t have her, it will be fine.

“I wonder,” Sludge mused, “how you would react if she was with us?”

Golden tendrils of Magick slithered from her armor. “Touch my baby, and you die.”

A soft keen wafted in the still air. Luminesta could hear the scuffle of blankets as little Seraphina squirmed against the dracaena’s scales.

“Oops.”

Lumi’s fair skin flared an angry beet red. “Slimy scum!” she barked as she twirled around with her fists clenched. Sludge almost had her stumped by raising the child before her face, but Luminesta took another path by executing a powerful uppercut to the snake’s gut. The hit shocked Sludge and Seraphina fell from the demon’s grip. Her mother jerked around in a hard one-eighty and scooped her up before she hit the ground.

43

“Good catch, Mom,” the purpled-eyed snake taunted.

“Ianuae Magicae!” she cried.

In seconds, she reappeared on the opposite edge of the field. A red-gold aura surrounded her being. “Are you sure you want to die today?”

“We will,” Slime began.

“After we kill you and the runt,” Sludge finished, her green eyes shining brightly.

Luminesta smirked. “Oh, I doubt that.”

The sister pair shared a confused look, which caused a full blown smile to break against Lumi’s face.

“That—that is a beautiful look.” She sauntered towards the hospital building, taking an arcing path as to avoid contact with the snake twins. “I truly cannot believe that you haven’t taken notice to it yet.”

“Taken notice to what?” they growled in agitation.

“One: to the fact that I have shown no interest in my husband since your kidnapping our child. Two: that I haven’t already ripped you to shreds for kidnapping my child. And, thirdly: what occurred moments after Sludge bucket here bellowed at my window.”

“What are you going on about?”

“Tell me why you breached the veil into this realm?”

“To interrogate you about the Child of Destruction.”

“Child of Prophecy, but I see why you would say that. What makes you think I know anything on that subject?”

“Rethink that and speak again, Slayer Queen,” Slime snarled.

“Alright, fair enough,” Luminesta conceded, finally reaching the back door of the building.

“I may know a bit about it. But why would I tell you? You’d just assassinate her.”

“So it is a woman” Sludge accused.

“More of a young girl, to be honest.” Another sly smile danced on the edge of her lips.

44

“You are testing our patience,” they seethed.

“Heh, good. I live to irritate demons.”

“Cease your cryptic tongue or suffer,” Slime warned.

“Fine. You want to know who The Child is.”

“Of course!”

“You will. Just not now… Hello, Iridesa,” Luminesta crooned just before a blinding iridescent light spread across the grounds.

“I’m going to chew you out later for this,” Iridesa said to Luminesta.

“Having a baby or letting dracaenas through the veil?”

“Both.”

“Fair enough.”

Iridesance “Iridesa” Heralds was Luminesta’s older sister. The two were close enough in appearance that they were often mistaken for twins, though. However, there were a few distinguishable differences. There was a height difference, where Iridesance had a three inch advantage on the five-foot-six Luminesta. Where Lumi’s shining cornstalk blonde hair was long and straight, Iridesa’s was short and wavy. Iridesa had heterochromia where one eye was a glimmering golden green, the other a stark starlight silver and stationary compared to her younger sister’s. The older of the two was a Magick wielder as well, but relied more on hand-to-hand combat. The elder sister also had more mischievous tendencies, but was just two hairs behind the younger in terms of power.

“You put on some weight,” Luminesta commented.

“Fret not, baby sister, you’ll gain a pound or two raising your kid. Boy or girl?”

“Girl.”

“Got your powers?”

“In a way.”

“Why are you always so secretive?”

“Comes with the job description.”

45

“Besides it is not that noticeable,” Iridesa said, referring back to her minimal weight gain.

“So you say, Elder.”

The dracaena twins had been ignored for so long their anger began to change them into a hybrid monster that grew larger by the second while the other sisters continued their banter.

“Where is my nephew, anyway?” Luminesta asked.

“In the wrecked rubble of your delivery room. Why isn’t that kid moving? She’s been silent this whole time,” Iridesa said pointing to the infant.

“She knows she’s safe with her mommy around, that’s all. It also helps that I may have put a soothing spell on her.”

“Lumi!”

“At least she won’t be traumatized.”

As the sisters talked the twins transformed into a giant hybrid.

“You think I don’t know that?” Iridesa rolled her eyes. “Wow, Warrior Queen, I thought you were better than this.”

“Sue me,” she teased, sticking out her tongue defiantly.

The dracaena hybrid roared in a deafening double timbre, “WE HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR GAMES, SLAYER. TELL US WHAT WE WISH TO KNOW OR YOUR PUNY TOWN WILL BE REDUCED TO DUST!” “Testy,” both sisters scoffed.

“Alright, alright,” Luminesta said. “You want the identity of the Child of Prophecy? I will ever so gladly offer it.”

Hefting Seraphina up a tad, she declared, “The name you should be dreading for the next nineteen years is Seraphina Xandria Noemi Alexis Rotsday.”

Around the clearing, everybody gaped at Luminesta in awe.

“My niece is either going to save the world or destroy it. Perfect.”

“RRRRAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHHHH!!!” the demon sisters screamed. “HOW DARE 46

YOU GO ABOUT DIPPING YOUR MEDDLESOME HANDS IN PLACES THEY DON’T BELONG?!?”

“I had zero control over this. I didn’t even know she would turn out this way until just before she was born.”

The hybrid monster appeared to accept the premise, calming down enough to return to its original forms. Rather, it seemed that way as Sludge and Slime exchanged cool looks.

The Slayer Queen caught on quickly to the sister’s thoughts and gently pulled her own sister to her.

“Iridesance, I need you to take our kids and my husband someplace safe. Do you understand?”

“Come on, Lumi, they’re just snakes! How much harm can they be?”

“If their mother is Sorte the Poisonous Man-Eater and their father is the Overlord of the Underworld himself, they might be very harmful.”

Since Iridesa was more inclined to participate in a battle such as this instead of sitting on the sidelines, she almost raised a fuss until Lumi roughly twisted her collar and leveled her with a hard glare.

“Did I stutter, Iridesance?”

Lumi only behaved that way when the situation was dire. Fear gathered in Iridesance’s voice. “N-no.”

“Then I suggest completing the task I gave you.”

Within milliseconds, Iridesance had baby Seraphina in her arms and flew halfway up to the mangled hospital room.

“I take it you desire to fight us one-on-one,” Slime stated coldly.

Luminesta’s only response was to produce a bulbous, midnight black flute.

Sludge twisted her face in distaste. “That is just poor game. Afoplsei!” she barked as an arc of purple light shot towards Lumi and caused the flute to break.

Luminesta tsked and dropped the broken pieces. For a moment, her image flickered. The demons prepared themselves for the Slayer to transform shortly before she vanished into thin air. They reacted quickly, closing off the space between them by pressing together.

In a matter of two heartbeats, the air became thick with anticipation. The heady, pungent Underworld odor that clung on the scales of the dracaenas filled the air. Despite the fact that they had fared well in the preemptive fight with the weaker Slayers, the twins had been considerably

weakened in the process. If they were to succeed in wiping out Luminesta and her child, they had to finish the mother off as soon as possible.

Off to Slime’s right side, a flash of light caught her eye. Then Slime and her twin sister Sludge shot at it with the speed of cobras, only to be greeted with the sight of one of their own fallen victims.

“Rrrraaaaaaahhhhh!!!” Luminesta boomed, swinging the thick lance she had taken from Aster at the snakes. Almost too late, they leapt out of reach, but not before she sliced the skin from their underbellies.

“This is why I hate lances,” she hissed, tossing the weapon to the side. “They don’t have nearly the same impact as a long blade.” Focusing her Magick, she manifested a thin katana-like sword from the palm of her hand and took a crouching pose. Another wave of golden-red energy washed over her before time froze again. The three stared each other down with enough ferocity to make even the bravest man stand down. Just in the background, the whispering wind did nothing to break the heavy tension, only brushing Luminesta’s scent further towards the demons’ noses.

“You reek of human sweat and flowers,” Sludge commented drily.

“And you of bile, sewage, and rotted food,” Luminesta retorted.

“Why the games, Slayer Queen?” the green-eyed monster asked.

“Same as you, biding my time until I can rip your head off.”

That was what seemed to set the cogs in motion.

Sludge flew at her, a straight shot arrow with one target in mind, but Lumi was even faster.

At the very last second, she pivoted at such an angle that the claws barely clipped the slightly thin armor, but still sunk deep enough in the hide to incapacitate it. The other monster mimicked its earlier action by appearing behind her. However, the tactic was different as it coiled itself around Luminesta. It was wrapped so tightly around her, it wasn’t long before she began to lose consciousness. Shadows and white dots twirled in her line of sight. Her face prickled and ran cold from lack of circulation. The snakes giggled happily as her face lost its color. Soon after, the long sword fell from her grip prior to her body following suit.

Tightening its grip, the green eyed beast started to speak before a blast of fire consumed its face. It fell back, dropping Luminesta and screeching in agony, frantically fanning the 48

flames.

Lumi dove to grab her blade, rolling just out of Sludge’s reach.

Darn it, Iridesa! I said to keep Seraphina safe! Resolving to steal her family away as soon as possible, Luminesta struck another pivot and dashed at Slime with all of her strength.

She had to drop low to avoid the claws, but still she landed a firm blow to the midsection.

Three seconds later, two wet thuds met Luminesta’s ears, and that was all of the invitation she needed to run into the dark forest.

She called out to the doctor just before vanishing into the blackness.

“Henry! Send for the nurses to do a cleanup, these dracaenas won’t stay down forever!”

Get to my knucklehead sister and restore my Magick. She thought, fear in her deep navy blue eyes. But those two are strong, they might come for me at any moment.

“Ianuae Magicae!” A flash of golden light, and she was gone. *** Later, Lumi found herself at the door of an old stone house. It had a low, curved dome and a rustic mahogany door. The rounded beige rocks made an outstanding impression against the deep greens and browns of the trees. Circular windows dotted the front and sides and a small chimney barely broke through her line of sight. To complete the fairy tale essence, vines tastefully encroached the tiny one-story home. A home that just so happened to be Iridesa and Lumi’s childhood home.

“Why did she have to choose this place?” she sighed. “I’ve always hated this place.”

Lumi prepared herself for the horrors that awaited her inside and took a deep breath, wincing when pain shot through her abdomen. “Probably should have rested a bit longer.”

When she finally limped to the door, she knocked, only to have her childish older sister toy with her.

Iridesa trilled, “What’s the secret password?”

Luminesta clicked her tongue and snarled at the door, “Do not toy with me, Iridesance. Let me in.”

“You of all people should know the rules. Unless you just so happen to be one of those snakes in disguise, then I definitely won’t let you in.”

49

“Iridesa,” she said.

“Ooh, you can feel the authority.”

The Slayer Queen raised her fist as if she were about to pound on the door, catching herself at the last second. “IRIDESA!!” she yelled.

Now, it was her sister’s turn to be forceful. “The password.”

“I will not.”

“Then you aren’t getting in.”

Clyde, carefully cradling Seraphina in his arms, chimed in. “Why is this password so important? Also, why is Lumi so dead set against saying it?”

“It really is more of a precautionary measure, and my little sister has been above the rules for most of her life. The only one she really conformed to was this one and that was when we were children.”

“One that is meant for and made by children!” she barked.

“That is not the point, Nicola. I am doing this to protect the little ones and the civilian.”

“RAVENNA!! LET ME IN OR I WILL SEE THAT YOU SUFFER!” “HA! I have a five year old son, there is nothing you can do that will scare me.”

She growled, “Are you sure about that?”

“Positive,” Iridesa snarled back. “Bet you’re running out of time, too. Those demons are probably halfway here and you’re still not a hundred percent.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too. Now, what’s the password?”

Groaning, Luminesta placed both feet evenly on the faded welcome mat and began to sing: “A-tisket a-tasket A green and yellow basket I wrote a letter to my love 50

And on the way, I dropped it.

A kiss and some Magick My sister is fantastic I love her and mother So I wish for no one other.”

A moment later, the door swung open revealing Iridesa directly in Lumi’s line of sight. She stomped in, flecks of a golden aura trailing behind. There was a tense silence as she took Seraphina from her father and sat on the soft burgundy couch.

“Could someone bother telling me what just happened here?” Clyde asked angrily.

“I’m not,” Luminesta scoffed.

“Nicola and I haven’t been here in quite some time, and she’s as stubborn as she always was. No one really opposes her but me. Adding in the fact that she’s got a baby, the teasing really got to her this time.”

“What about the names? Nicola, Ravenna?” he asked.

“Those are our, er, middle names.” She paused, mulling over what she had said. “Yeah, middle names, that is sort of accurate.”

“Lumi never told me that.”

“She never tells anyone anything.”

Concerned, he asked again, “Why?” “Because no one needs to know until the time is right,” Luminesta cut in. “And those names are the names that were given to us for completing our Magick lessons.”

Annoyed, Iridesa rose an eyebrow. “When exactly is the right time for others to be indulged with the vital information that you always seem to have? When it’s too late? Or how about when people who have no use to you are already dead?”

“You know we are not to bring that incident up ever again.”

“Why? So your precious reputation won’t be tarnished? We lost more good Slayers out there today while you, the wrongly proclaimed ‘Slayer Queen,’ just sat there and let them 51

go! If Clyde hadn’t called me, the Child of Prophecy might have died too! This is just like what happened five years ago. You don’t care what happens to anyone else. You’re just as selfish as you’ve always been.”

“What happened five years ago was an accident,” Luminesta said.

“An accident?!? I almost died! Damien almost died! Fifteen Slayers and five civilians died that day and you’re calling it an ACCIDENT?!? No, you always do this, thinking you’re so high and mighty just because you were given special treatment you didn’t even deserve!”

“Take that back! You have always been jealous by the fact that I was always more advanced than you!”

“Why should I take back the truth? The only reason you were ‘more advanced’ than me was because you’ve been able to put on grander displays of regular Magick skills. That’s why the headmaster put you in the older students’ skills class. You got special treatment because you put on a pretty show, Lightning Bug.” Luminesta hissed, “I told you never to CALL ME THAT!” Baby Seraphina mewled in agitation.

“AND I’VE YET TO SEE YOU STOP ME, BRAT! YOU JUST HATE THE FACT THAT I’M THE ONLY PERSON TO EVER GIVE YOU GRIEF AND YOU CAN’T STOP IT!” Iridesa yelled right back. “See, oh brother-in-law, the prodigy here could never keep up with the older kids,” she went on, spurring on both women’s anger even more, “and she had to take remedial classes two summers in a row! Almost went for three, but she barely squeaked by on the final. I told them it was a bad idea to push her so far ahead so fast, but no! Nobody listens to the one who sees her for what she really is. Now, people are getting hurt because the old Council Board gave her a fat head!”

Seraphina whined a little louder, tears forming in the corners of her small eyes.

The raven-haired Damien, Iridesa’s son, noticed and raised his voice. “Mommy?”

“Stay out of this!” the feuding sisters barked at him.

“Don’t yell at my son!” A silver-green glow shimmered around Iridesa.

“Do not tell me what to do!” Lumi shot back, her golden red aura returning.

“Grrr, you’re only stronger than me by a margin that no one even cares about. In terms of 52

physical strength, I could plow you into the ground,” Iridesa rumbled, towering over her younger sister.

Luminesa’s power surged. “That margin is still more than enough to destroy you, combat skills or not.”

Clyde began, “If you two are going to start fighting again at lea—“ Both sisters sent out a blast of energy that sent the man flying at the wall before he could finish his sentence. Other than knocking Clyde unconscious, the force of the shockwave completely woke baby Seraphina. And she cried the loudest she had cried in her few short hours of life. Panic ensued as the sisters rushed to calm the new addition of their family.

Luminesta gently bounced her while Iridesa frantically searched for a pacifier.

“Aaarrgghh! This is all your fault, Ravenna!”

The comment made Iridesa halt in her tracks. “My fault?!? If it weren’t for me you—“ “AAAAAHHH!!” Damien’s shriek broke through her sentence and sent a wave of alarm through both sisters.

“They’re here!” Lumi hissed, turning towards the small kitchen.

A rumble shook the tiny house, followed by an echoic bellow. Iridesa pulled the curtains back to reveal the dracaenas charging directly towards them. Their eyes glowed with sinister green and purple colors, and black smoke rolled from them like waves. However, it wasn’t long before the invisible barrier pushed them away.

“Damien, there is a cellar just down the hall. Go and stay there until I get you, understand?” Iridesa ordered. “Luminesta! Hurry up, or I’ll drag you out!”

Outside, Slime and Sludge rammed the barrier in different points, searching for the weak spot so they could cut the Slayer Queen down to size. Slime had shifted into a snake and slithered along the top of the domed force field while Sludge had grown in height and mass, roaring furiously. There was no stopping the snake twins and it seemed as though they would shatter the barrier until another rumble shook the area.

Groaning, Iridesa growled, “What is it this time? Sorte the Man-Eater is gonna pop out of the ground like a demonic daisy?”

The shaking earth split open to reveal Sorte herself, carrying a small bottle of pink liquid.

Iridesa smacked herself in the face. Luminesta emerged from the kitchen, wide-eyed and 53

dumbfounded.

Of course, Lumi thought, Iridesance says it, and it happens. My big sister. “Why must you jinx things?” she said out loud. “You have to know by now that almost anything you say comes to fruition.”

“Girls,” Sorte, the Man-Eater, purred, “come to my side.”

The twins hesitated. Their mother only behaved this way when they had done wrong or failed to meet her expectations. In the past, doing either one of those things usually resulted in some form of severe punishment. For Sludge, the worst she had gotten was the same kind of treatment as a caged animal. She’d spent ten whole days that way, locked up.

Slime, on the other hand, was Sorte’s bigger disappointment and spent lengthier amounts of time enduring more gruesome punishments. While the dracaena twins put on a big show to intimidate others, their mother was one of the few things that truly terrified them.

“Girls,” Sorte purred again, a bit harsher this time.

In seconds, the twins rushed to either side of their mother, anxiety radiating from them like body heat. “Better,” she cooed.

Sweat fell from the Slayer sisters like waterfalls. Instinctively, they tapped into the full potential of their power and took several steps away from the window. Neither one was particularly afraid of ordinary demons, but this was no ordinary demon. Sorte was rumored to have wiped out scores of humans, Slayers and even other demons with sheer fierceness and no remorse. This demon was in a class all its own and no one could defy or oppose her.

“Impossible,” Lumi gasped, “She never leaves the Underworld. Why? Why?!?” she cried, panic setting in.

Iridesa’s voice quavered, “They must have called her here to help finish us off. She’s going to chew us up and spit us out.”

“No,” Luminesta gritted out sternly. She shot a hard glare out at the Man-Eater and declared, “We will not lose. We have far too much to live for. I won’t let them take me or my sister away from our family!” At the end of her declaration, her trademark golden red aura shone brightly around her.

For a moment, Iridesa stood in awe. Luminesta hardly ever made such profound statements and, in truth, it was humorous enough that it eased her nerves.

54

“Ha-ha, what made you so preachy? I guess having a kid does that to a person, even one as heartless as you.”

“Don’t push your luck, Elder sister. I can still turn tail and run. Damien shouldn’t be too hard to care for.”

“Fine, Lightning Bug. Truce?”

“Truce.”

“What about your husband?” Iridesa asked, just remembering the unconscious man snoozing by the wall.

“So long as he is out cold for the remainder of this battle and we finish as quickly as possible, he will be fine.” Luminesta started for the door.

That’s when Iridesa finally noticed the bundle swaddled around her sister’s chest. At first she thought it was just a pack of replenishing supplies until two tiny fingers wiggled at the top of the cloth. Fear consumed her with a rush so swift that she didn’t begin to react until Luminesta’s long blonde hair crossed the threshold.

“Quite the little proclamation there,” Sorte hummed deeply. “No worries, Slayer Queen, I won’t kill you.”

That upset the snake twins so deeply that they had to express their indignation. “But Mother!” they began.

The Underworld Queen cut them off with a sharp look. “Milonosis sent me here to do what you failed to. Gather information about the Child of Destruction from Luminesta. Nothing more, nothing less. Why it took you this long to track her down and interrogate her is utterly baffling. And the fact that you took so long is disappointing. You will be punished later,” she finished, not even bothering to look in their direction. They shared wary, fearful looks then hung their heads in submission, shaking gently.

“You sure have those two trained well,” Iridesa remarked.

Then a bolt of green energy flew from the snakes’ mouths at Iridesa’s head like an arrow, which she easily dodged.

“Well, maybe not that well,” Iridesa snickered.

“True. They get their testiness from their father, not me. And you might be?”

55

“Ah, yes, I am the unheard of older sister of the notorious Slayer Queen, Iridesance Ravenna Heralds. Though most folks just call me ‘Iridesa.’”

In a polite monotone, Sorte responded, “A pleasure, Iridesance.” She then turned her gaze to Luminesta. “Now, about this child… Where is it, Luminesta?”

Before her younger sister could speak, Iridesa chimed in again. “I thought we were having a conversation?”

“No, I believe we were done,” Sorte countered, cocking her head in mock confusion.

“Unless, you are stalling.”

Iridesa snorted. “Stalling. Hardly. I just thought it was pretty rude of you to just brush me off like I was trash.”

“In this situation, you are,” she shot back. “I only have one objective, a peaceful one mind you, and you seem fervently intent on biding your time as much as possible. Could it be that something is wrong with the Slayer Queen?”

“She was hospitalized when we located her,” Sludge reported.

“In the hospital? You must have been cripplingly ill or had a baby.” She took a moment to really look over the Magick-wielding Slayer prodigy. Then she spotted the wriggling scrap of cloth on her chest. “Oh, dear, I really must make an appearance more often. You had a baby! Isn’t that precious?” But her tone subtly suggested otherwise. “Although is it not a tad reckless to bring a newborn to a battle against demons?”

“Not when you have a certain objective in mind,” Lumi said.

“Objective? Ha, even I was not so heartless that I would selfishly endanger the lives of my children,” Sorte scoffed.

“You apparently don’t know my baby sister,” said Iridesa.

“I think we may be drifting off topic,” Luminesta said.

“True,” the Man-Eater concurred. “We were just getting to the part where I was given all of the information about The Child that I require.”

“As a matter of fact, no one knows much about her since she arrived just recently. But there is no doubt that she will fulfill her destiny when the time arises.”

“So it is a female,” Sorte murmured. “May I have her name?”

56

In tandem, Luminesta, Iridesa and the dracaena twins said, “Seraphina Xandria Noemi Alexis Rotsday.”

This caused the Underworld Queen to cock her head to the side. Suspicion seeped into her expression. “You all wouldn’t be hiding anything from me by any chance?”

Luminesta spoke up before the others could. “You’re right, Man-Eater, I did have a child.”

“You do realize that once she solves your little encryption, she’ll rip us all to shreds,” Iridesa said without emotion.

“That is exactly what I hope for.”

Sorte surprised them all and said, “Let me see her, then.”

Luminesta walked closer to the edge of the force field where the dracaenas stood, unfolding the bundle as she went along. Her sister parted her lips to protest, but Luminesta cut her off with a silencing spell. Luminesta’s heart was already pounding like a jackhammer in her chest. She didn’t need her sister mucking up her state of mind. When she finally came face-to-face with the demon, Seraphina was completely exposed. Her tiny cheeks were flushed red from being wrapped up for so long. Tears once again formed in the corners of her eyes as she sensed the dracaena’s presence. Seraphina desperately sent out waves of Magick to send the snake woman away, but it was no use. Luminesta had sealed away the bulk of her powers just for this situation.

Sorte’s eyes were unreadable.

What would she do? What was she thinking? All of those in the small, rounded area had these questions in mind and stressed to have them answered.

“This is the one demonkind has been worried about. She certainly is frail looking. I think Milonosis would have an interesting reaction to this. If anything, I believe this is our cue to leave.” She turned, starting her return to the huge fissure in the ground, paused and left the Slayer sisters a parting remark. “Your shield is truly impressive, and I commend you two. However,” she continued, lifting a bottle similar to the one she held when she arrived to question them, but there was one big difference, “it isn’t good enough. I will see you and the brat in nineteen years, dear Iridesance. I expect an amusing battle, assuming the both of you survive that long and make it far enough to even get close to the King and I without perishing. I look forward to finally acknowledging your presence.”

The last image Iridesa had was of the dracaena mistress smiling evilly as she was swallowed 57

by the ground. Then Iridesa thought about the empty bottle and the remark about their home shield not being good enough. She turned to her sister. “Nicola, what did she mean by—LUMI!” Halfway through the sentence, Luminesta collapsed, nearly dropping Seraphina. Iridesa rushed to her side and answered her own question. Lumi’s skin had lost its glow and was quickly turning gray and balmy. Her shiny hair was now lackluster and dry, breaking off at the ends. She panted heavily while her lungs started to falter, accented by shallow gasps and harsh, choking coughs. But none of that compared to the stark contrast in the sheen of Luminesta’s eyes. There was only one explanation for the change from her usual sparkling eyes to the seemingly lifeless, dull ones Ravenna was looking at and the flowering pink stain on Luminesta’s armor.

Sorte had poisoned Luminesta and left her for dead.

Dread sunk deep in Iridesa’s heart. Granted, the sisters had their squabbles, but they never wished the other ill will. Iridesa found herself wishing she could take back all of the bad things she had ever said to her younger sister. Marble-sized tears rolled down her cheeks and fell onto Lumi’s pale face. Iridesa thought of their parents, the promise she made. She had broken it, disappointed them. There was no turning back now, and her niece would be motherless.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, “I’m so sorry, Mom. I let it happen. You told me not to…and I did.” More tears ran down her face.

“Not your fault,” Luminesta’s replied weakly.

“Lumi!” Joy flooded through Iridesa. “You’re okay!”

She shook her head and coughed. “I’m not. The poison Sorte injected would have been trouble to deal with even without me being as drained as I am. I only managed to preserve enough Magick to banish those demons.” She coughed again, a rain of red spilling out, some landing on Seraphina, who was under another soothing spell. “Had I known that was chimera poison, I might have saved more.”

Iridesance said nothing, though there was a question in her mind that she knew the answer to. She scooped her sister up and carried her back to the cottage. “Remember when we first moved here? You used to love it.” There was no hint of happy nostalgia in her tone.

Just dead resignation.

“And you couldn’t wait to master your lessons so you could fight demons,” Lumi remarked.

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“That has never changed.”

“Mom and Dad were really harsh during our stay here. Wonder how they’d feel if they knew their granddaughter was the bane of this world.”

Weakly, Lumi retorted, “She could be the savior, you know.”

Iridesa walked back to the cellar and returned moments later with Damien in her arms.

“Iridesa? Desa, what is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

She said nothing, averting her gaze to the floor.

“Iridesance.”

“If you die today, Seraphina may end up siding with the demons.”

2.

Something wet tickled my nose. I tried brushing it away, but I missed. More tickling and I finally opened my eyes. At the end of my nose sat one of my pet ferrets, Maria.

“Bonjour, cher,” I yawned. “I had the dream again. This time, I saw more.” I scratched behind her ear and sat up. “You know, it feels like I should know what all of this means.

Maybe Aunt Iridesa has some ideas. What do you – ” “SERAPHINA!!” yelled Natalie, my stepmother.

“Oh, no.” I turned to my alarm clock and choked. “I’m late! Maria, why didn’t you wake me sooner? Oh, Natalie is going to kill me for this!”

“SERAPHINA!” she called again.

That was my final warning. Why did my stepmother have to be so impatient? She wouldn’t be doing this if my father were still alive. I stole a glance at the picture of him and Mom on my nightstand. They seemed so happy. Why did you guys have to go?

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on the past. I had twenty different chores to do for three needy people and school in less than an hour. I opened my door and rushed to start my chores.

First, I had to wake my two stepsisters, Scarlet and Skylar. If I could, I would have scared 59

the both of them awake, maybe by sitting my two ferrets in their beds. Or placing mirrors above my stepsisters’ faces so they could see what kind of beasts they looked like this time if day. The thought made me giggle a bit. Instead, I pulled open the curtains and showered them in the glorious morning light they despised so passionately. Then I leapt out of the room before their opposing, yet equally unpleasant voices could reach my ear. I bounded down the stairs and made it to the kitchen in record time.

“You called for me, Stepmother?”

She didn’t even bother to turn towards me as she condoned me in her dulcet, regal voice.

“Why is breakfast late?”

I was just about to explain when she cut me off.

“No excuses. Just finish your chores. Are the girls awake?”

My stepsisters’ shrieks of outrage were her answer. I sniggered quietly.

“I’ll get breakfast on the table and have the girls prepped and ready by the time the bus comes.”

“How will you be getting to school?” she asked, irritation bleeding into her tone.

“Damien will be here soon. He’ll take me.”

There was no mistaking the disgusted, angry look she shot me at the last second.

My stepmother Natalie Clark married my dad about a year or so after my mom died when I was nine. Up until then, my mom had been sick the entire time. I had very few memories of her, and they were hazy, but I could remember how my mom and I treasured each other.

The last day of her life was the best day I’d ever had. We spent the whole day together, making bracelets, taking photos. It had crushed me when she passed the next morning.

My dad cried along with me, and my Aunt Iridesa and cousin Damien spent the whole year with us.

Then he suddenly married this strange woman, a woman who openly hated my very existence. Whose daughters consistently bullied me, even before we became step-siblings.

Natalie, Scarlett and Skylar Clark had treated me like dirt since day one, and no one had done anything to stop it. It only got worse when my dad passed away only a year after marrying her. I was stuck with them for the next eight years. My aunt and cousin moved next door to us last year, but that in itself barely put a dent on what the Clarks had done.

60

I hadn’t seen my aunt since she tried to gain custody of me and lost. Something about it being in my dad’s will that I would have to live with the Clarks until I turned nineteen.

When the trio and I learned that we would be stuck with each other for so long, it only made them hate me more. The abuse got worse. Natalie would starve me until I collapsed.

Scarlett and Skylar would beat me black and blue. Eventually they got our classmates and even some of the upperclassmen to join in. One time, a teacher confronted me about my bruises. I took a chance and confided in her.

She was fired the next day and hadn’t come back since.

The tender scent of bacon, eggs and waffles filled the kitchen. I took it in, melting into the peacefulness.

“Thanks a lot, Cinderella,” came Scarlett’s shrill voice.

I grimaced. “Cinderella” was the name they had so creatively coined once they found out my name meant “burning fire.”

“Yeah, now we’ll be late to the bus,” Skylar added in her man-like baritone.

I placed their plates on the table and said, “You won’t. I’ve timed it.”

They scowled at me, grabbed the dishes and sauntered out the door.

I sniggered again and found myself thinking of the differences between us. Skylar was by far the biggest of us all. Taller than any average girl at 6’ 5”, and basically a linebacker in girl’s clothes. The brunette, deep-voiced beast intimidated almost everyone she came across. Scarlett, on the other hand, was a tiny ball of concentrated evil. There was no doubt that the shrilly-toned, squirrel-faced red head was the brains of the faction. Combined, they were unstoppable, although it was delightfully easy to drive a wedge between them.

As for me, I was a bit taller than average and well within a healthy weight range. Most of the townsfolk who knew my mother said I looked exactly like her, especially my dad and aunt. The same shimmering cornstalk blond hair. Fair, moon-pale skin. My mom had sparkling blue eyes that drew people in, and I have heterochromia. My left eye the same color of shifting blue as my mother’s and the right shade of gold that would have made ancient prospectors envious. The fact that I looked like her got me into more trouble.

Natalie returned to the kitchen, this time dressed for her job as councilwoman. There was a long, awkward pause as I placed her plate in front of her and waited for her to finish. I made it a point to keep quiet around Natalie until she spoke to me. She signaled that she was done, a tense fifteen minutes later, and I cleared away her dishes.

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“When was the last time you ate?” she asked in the kind, cold tone that might have refrozen the polar icecaps.

“Around two days ago, Natalie,” I responded from the sink.

“You do know I have half a mind not to let you have any food today.”

“Yes ma’am, I know.”

She rose from her seat and left without saying a word. I sighed deeply. Oh well. I’ve gone longer without eating. I saw her to the door, bowing humbly.

“Have a productive day, stepmother.” While you’re at it, why not take a long walk off a short cliff.

There was nothing, just more hate-filled silence, and she was gone.

A short while later, there was a knock at the front door. I stopped scrubbing the slick linoleum and slid over to answer it. When I opened it, there stood a specimen that most girls would swoon over. Tall, dark-haired, mysterious and brooding, my cousin Damien made a point of being eye candy. He singlehandedly gained control over the female populace at the college by not wanting it at all. Damien only looked good because his mother wouldn’t let him look any other way.

“You are not ready,” he stated noncommittally.

I scowled playfully at him. “Then why don’t you use that magic of yours to finish my chores?”

“That isn’t funny.”

“Neither are you,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I had that dream again.”

“The one where the ducks are hot pink and everyone is dressed as giant rabbits? You might need to get that checked out, little cousin.”

I shot him a dead look. “No. The one with the snake women.”

He chuckled. “Where you see the events of your birth, and snake women come to eat you?”

I threw my shoe at him, my face turning red. “Shut up! I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

62

“Whatever. Now will you please get ready for school? I’ll finish up here.”

There was no point in fighting him, so I caved. I flew up the grand staircase to the small bathroom at the end of the hall. The large, almost castle-like townhouse had been in my father’s family for generations and it was one of the things that Natalie and her daughters wanted to take from me. They resided in the bigger rooms and confined me to the attic.

My aunt nearly had an aneurysm when she learned that I had lived there for so long.

But there was really nothing much she could do and not a single resident that she could persuade to put a stop to the injustice.

After a quick ten-minute shower (where I managed to brush my teeth and wash my hair), I scurried to my room, where I found that Damien had laid out some clothes for me. A pale blue lace blouse, relaxed fit khakis and an assortment of accessories. I sighed in defeat and shook my head. My cousin had always been dead set on making me stand out, especially since I told him I had no reason to be a bigger target. He hasn’t listened yet. I insisted on plain, frumpish, and beige. Damien insisted on color, color, loud dangly things, and more color. We often argued about my fashion habits.

Maria and my other pet ferret, Milaya, sat on my dresser, staring intently at the finished product with their big black eyes. They looked relieved, like they were on Damien’s side the whole time.

I parted my long bangs to cover my oddly colored eye. “Traitors.”

They squeaked and ran into my school bag.

That day was presentation day for our “My Favorite Animal” projects in Biology II. I was bringing Maria and Milaya in to demonstrate how well ferrets behaved and to disprove some misconceptions. Biology II was hands down my favorite class. Our teacher, Mr. Brighton, had supported me in every step of my high school journey. I wanted to be a veterinarian after college, and apart from my crippling fear of snakes, it seemed like the perfect career path. He made sure that I had all of the connections I needed to get there.

“Okay, class, as you all know, today we will be presenting our ‘My Favorite Animal’ projects. Would anyone like to go first?” Brighton announced.

I almost volunteered, but remembered that a good chunk of the class hated my guts. In my place, two of Scarlett’s flunkies rose to the challenge. I wonder what animal they chose.

Probably horses. Nearly all of the popular girls choose horses.

“Ah, Barbra and Meghan. Come set up your project.”

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To my surprise, they practically ran to the front of the room, snickering fiendishly. That was certainly confusing. I narrowed my eyes. What reason would they possibly have for being so happy about this project? If I recalled correctly, they’d complained the loudest the day Mr. Brighton gave the assignment. I frowned in confusion.

Quiet squeals of fear emanated from my bag. Uh-oh. If Maria and Milaya were reacting, something was bound to be catastrophically wrong. My heart started thumping wildly in my chest, and my hands shook. I pulled the ferrets from my bag and shakily shushed them.

But when I looked up, my heart fell. Barbara and Meghan locked their evil eyes on me.

“No,” I whispered.

Suddenly, fifteen other teenagers fixed their cruel, unforgiving eyes on me. I knew what was coming. I knew it and wished with every fiber of my being that it wasn’t true. My cheeks turned pink and silent tears fell. Why me? I never did anything to anyone. I didn’t even bother turning to my teacher, knowing there was little he could do. Those two were a direct line to one of the councilwoman’s daughters. If he called them out or put a wrench in the cogs of their plan, they’d run straight to Scarlett, and he’d be gone within a week. He couldn’t leave me alone. I knew it was stupid to just sit there and take such awfulness, but it was worth it if I could salvage at least one ray of light out of it. In truth, neither one of us should have been complacent.

But they were too powerful for us to make a difference.

I crossed my fingers, praying vainly that it was anything but snakes. Even mongooses would be acceptable. Just. Not. SNAKES. I’ve hated them for as long as I can remember.

My parents had told me that it was because a pair of snakes had snuck into my bedroom when I was an infant and bit me. They were poisonous and my parents had barely gotten me to the hospital in time. From then on, I have had vivid nightmares of huge bloodthirsty snakes.

More tears fell as Meghan proclaimed, “For our favorite animal, we chose the black mamba. One of the deadliest snakes in the world.”

“Mr. Brighton, may I be excused?” I asked nervously.

“You may,” he responded in resignation.

I gathered my things and all but ran to the door. The door was right in my reach before I heard it. Shattering glass and a low thud. It stopped me in my tracks. I had a profound urge to turn around and help my teacher.

64

“Well…?” Barbra asked, letting the question hang.

I put Maria and Milaya in my pocket and turned to face my peers.

“So, you want to fight today?” Meghan chimed.

Barbara laughed and snapped her fingers. “Josh, Cinderella wants to dance with you.”

Josh Charming, the most popular boy in school, captain of the football, rugby and lacrosse teams, and Skylar’s longtime boyfriend. He had been dying to put me in my place since that fateful day in kindergarten where I tripped and showed off his “I heart teddy bears” undies to all of the playground during recess and again in year eight when I spilled water on his pants. He walked around for the whole day looking like he’d soiled himself. Since then I made it a point to avoid him at all possible turns, but he’d also made it a point to break me into pieces in any way he could. Thus, dating my bear of a stepsister and plotting my death. Josh terrified me to no end. It was nothing less than sheer idiocy to go toe to toe against him. Basically, it was suicide.

“Let’s go, Cinderbutt,” he growled.

“Nice insult, pants-wetter.”

A collective gasp rippled through the room when I brought up the hastily concealed, nearly forgotten incident from four years ago.

Josh’s face turned an amusing shade of red, mere seconds before he charged. I performed a pirouette at the last second, a matador leading a bull to empty space. I might say the best part would have been when he slammed headfirst into the wall. I found myself giggling uncontrollably. When he rose, his face was caked white with plaster dust and colored a bright beet red.

I only laughed harder.

The others just stood in awe, as I doubled over. Josh was fuming, taking long strides to grab my collar. He pulled me up so we were eye to eye. There was a brief pause as I ran my gaze over him in all of his white faced glory before…

“Hahahahahaha! Ha ha ha ha ha! You—you should see yourself! Oh my gosh! Ah ha ha ha ha ha!! I can’t breathe!” I was gasping for air and the entire lab was silent.

He dropped me and, while my giggling was beginning to fade, kicked me in the torso with enough force to break at least three of my ribs. Black and white spots dotted my vision.

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“Wanna try laughin’ at me again?” Josh asked.

I spit on his shoe. He scowled and pointed his chin at two people behind me. Big calloused hands roughly yanked me to my feet. “You are a coward,” I said.

“Proud of it, too.”

“Pummel her!” someone cried from the back.

I really have gotten into it this time… *** About half an hour later, I found myself being awakened by Maria again.

I shot up, relieved. “Oh, cher, you’re okay! I was worried they may have fed you to that awful snake!” I looked around and called out for Milaya. “Mon ami? Where are you?” A half second of panic ran through me before his soft squeaks reached my ears. I sighed happily and rose.

Pain coursed throughout my entire body. The memories of what happened where hazy. All I could remember was pain.

And hopelessness.

Mr. Brighton was nowhere to be found. The other teachers must have gotten him while I was out cold. Makes sense. Everyone who didn’t hate me was afraid, afraid of what helping or unnecessarily interacting with me would entail. I understood completely.

“It doesn’t stop me from wishing that at least someone besides my cousin would help me,” I said to my ferrets.

They nudged my hands as if to say, We care, too, Sera. We love you.

I smiled. “I love you guys, as well.”

In a bleak world, these two small ferrets were my only real salvation.

Later on that day, when school was over, I rushed home. If Damien saw me covered in bruises, he’d tell Iridesa. And Iridesa would wreak havoc on Sharonstay. I loved my extended family, but they had a habit of trying much too hard to knock Natalie off her pedestal. Over the course of their short stay here, I’d repeatedly tried to tell them that the Clark trio would get their just rewards in due time. My aunt and cousin didn’t listen, going 66

on fighting the wicked women in the only way they knew how, with blunt force and scarily focused determination. Damien would usually charm people then tear them down in the same sentence. None of his victims where even aware that they had been insulted until it was too late. My aunt, however, was a straightforward hitter. She’d make a beeline for whomever was in charge or my assailant and then rip them to shreds. More often than not, Aunt Iridesa embarrassed me.

There was also the matter of finishing my chores before Natalie returned. I had to sweep, mop, dust and otherwise disinfect the large mansion we lived in. In addition, dinner had to be prepared and the twins had to be placated in whatever fashion they deemed fit on any given day. The clothes for the next day had to be cleaned, pressed, and folded and sorted neatly in the same place so that no one would have to overexert themselves at 6 AM. “Fifteen minutes.” A familiar baritone rang out from the bushes after I finally made it to the front door. “That…That is a new record, Seraphina. All of that running is starting to pay off.”

“Who told you?”

“No one had to tell me,” Damien said nonchalantly. “It just so happens to be on every form of social media that you could possibly think of. What were you thinking?!”

I just gave him a look that said that we knew exactly what I was thinking and just opened the door.

Hours later, I was preparing dinner. Pot roast, carrots and mashed potatoes. That was the last thing on my mind. Natalie had caught wind of the incident, most likely from Scarlett. If there was absolutely one thing she hated, it was me causing ripples in her calm little pool.

The last time there was a wave, I almost ended up in jail. I had spoken back to Skylar about something and all of the school had heard. That was two years ago, and it still terrified me to no end. All that was left was for Iridesa to come bursting in through the door, promising fire and brimstone rain to fall on the heads of anyone involved.

The back door slammed open, and I could practically feel the fire and brimstone on the top of my head.

“WHERE ARE THEY?!?” Aunt Iridesa bellowed. “I’LL TEAR ‘EM ALL TO PIECES!! ONE BY ONE, LIMB BY LIMB! NO ONE HURTS MY NIECE AND LIVES TO TELL THE TALE!!!”

“Mom, you may be overreacting,” said Damien.

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“LIKE HELL I AM!!”

“Mom,” Damien said. “Not now. I’ll tell you everything later.”

She finally brought her voice down to an acceptable level as she began to rant. “No, oh, no. Someone is telling me everything now or you’re both in trouble. Seraphina,” she ordered, grabbing my shoulder. “Sera, talk to me.” She tried to turn me around gently, but I wouldn’t budge.

“Sera, you’ll be fine. We’re family,” Damien said softly.

I stood in place, stirring the sautéing carrots with shaking fingers. My aunt’s hand left my shoulder and I relaxed. Maria scampered in my pocket frantically. Odd, she was usually the calm one. Damien took a rather big step to his right and that raised another alarm.

Cautiously, I took the risk of turning to face my unpredictable aunt. At best, she would be staring down at me intently. At worst, she’d be sharpening her hunting knife. What greeted me when I completed the turn was neither.

In place of a cold stare or a ripe blade, my aunt was putting on some freaky light show. A silver-green glow surrounded her, a shining ball of green forming at the apex of her hands.

Something inside told me to run, dodge, move, or to do anything to stop her. I just stood there, confused and wary.

“Mother, I really don’t think that now is the time for this. Aunty said not until she was of age.”

Iridesa scoffed. “Pfft, by the time she comes of age, it will have been too late. Besides, my mother trusted my judgment, Lumi trusted my judgment, and Sera trusts my judgment—” “Not right now I don’t,” I said.

“So why can’t you Day?” Iridesa asked.

“Because you are about to blast her with a ball of green energy, and she looks utterly mortified.”

“It won’t hurt,” she said, as she hurled the ball at me. “Much.”

An inky, black abyss faded from my field of view, and muffled voices drifted into my ears.

“That is the second time today that I’ve been knocked unconscious.”

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Damien’s dark green eyes floated into view. “I blame your unwavering sense of justice and your crippling inferiority complex. They’re like fire and ice.”

“Ha-ha,” I deadpanned. “What did your mom do?”

“There’s no point hiding it now,” Aunt Iridesa said.

Sighing, my cousin said, “She awakened your powers. As of nine minutes ago, you are a full-fledged Slayer.”

“What?”

“A Magick-wielding Slayer.” Iridesa added, ignoring me.

“What is a Slayer?” I asked in frustration.

My cousin explained, “A Slayer is an individual with certain physical and or mental abilities that prove beneficial in the battle against all demon kind. Some, as my mother oh-sogracefully demonstrated, have even more profound abilities known as ‘Magick.’ Those kinds are rarer than you think. So far only, you, my mother, your mother and I are the most recent users.”

“In how long?” I asked.

“About three hundred years, give or take a few,” he answered. “It might be just as well, given the fact that you could wind up with users as reckless as Mom.” A fleck of silver sparks hit the side of his head.

“Love you too, Mom.” “Are male users very common? I noticed that the bulk of that list was female.”

“Not really. I’m pretty much the only one of this era. The last one was our grandfather.”

“You jus –” “I know, but our mothers’ parents don’t count since they used an immortality spell on themselves.”

“Oh.” There was silence while I digested the new information. So many questions bounced in my brain. How strong was my family? What sorts of powers did they have? What kind of 69

powers did I have? When were they planning to tell me about all of this? But one question stood out among the rest.

“Why wait until now to tell me? I mean if there are monsters out there, and I have the power to stop them, don’t you think I should have a right to know?”

“I blame your mom,” my aunt said. “She had us keep the truth from you until you were ready.”

“And she’s still far from it, Mom.” “Her birthday is in May. We only have six months. It’s much better to teach her now than force all of it on her on that day.”

“Would this explain all of those weird dreams I’ve been having?” I asked, scratching Maria’s ears.

“What weird dreams?” they asked simultaneously in alarm.

“The dreams I told Damien about. I tell him about the dreams every day.”

The look in his mother’s eyes screamed, “I am going to massacre you later.”

Milaya nibbled on my right ear, and I giggled. “I guess it makes sense. You don’t need to tell me anymore. I understand now.”

They shared an uneasy look.

“I don’t think you do, Sera,” Iridesa said.

“In six months, I have to fight the Demon King and his sidekicks to save the world. Or, if things fair badly during those six months, I help them destroy it. I think it’s pretty black and white, Aunty.”

I turned and walked away, leaving a trail of blue-gold Magick behind me. *** My training as a Slayer began the next day. I was well aware that a new life lay just beyond the stainless steel doors that were hidden in the basement of my home. They had been concealed by a shelf filled with a menagerie of odd, misshapen knick-knacks and ugly chotchkies with eyes that seemed to follow you around the cramped little space. Iridesa and Damien stood on either side of me, waiting for me to push down on the handle and 70

accept the unavoidable fate that loomed on the other side. To be honest, we entered the basement at dawn.

And we’d been at the door for seven hours and counting.

Was possibly dying at the hands of some monster really worth not having to live with the Clarks anymore? Did I even have it in me to save all of humanity? What if I choked at the last second, and something took my head off? On good days, I’m about as graceful as a person made of jello. I was bound to impale myself with a crazy sharp weapon at some point. That, or maim someone else. This may have been a bad idea.

“You know, I think I might rescind my choice. I’ve realized that ignorance is bliss.” I spun around to run back to the life I had always known. It was abusive, yes, but, better than getting eaten by a six-foot-tall beast. Besides, if I didn’t open the door, I wouldn’t have to face a reality that defied all of the laws of nature.

Twin towers of monstrous flesh and determination blocked my path, glowing silver, green and royal purple. Damien just gazed down on me with obvious and exaggerated disappointment. Iridesa, however, looked like a devil in human skin, bearing down on my tiny physique with devious glee.

“Aaaw, lil’ Sera, where ya goin’?” Iridesa asked, evil resonating in her voice.

“YYYEEEEEEEE!!! N-N-Nowhere!”

“Really?” Damien asked, rubbing his cheek on mine. “Looked like you were trying to make a break for it. My dear, sweet baby cousin wouldn’t think of leaving us when we needed her most. Would she?” His eyes narrowed at the end of the sentence, purposely making me terrified and guilty. He had to have some kind of extra superpower.

They placed their unnaturally huge hands on either side of my shoulders, jerked me in a dizzying 180, and clamped down with just enough time to push me through the doors. I fell through, coming face-to-face with the business end of a very new, very useful looking sword. Or, I came eye-to-tip with the very new, very useful looking sword.

“They’re trying to kill me,” I whimpered.

“If they wanted to do that, they’d have done it already,” a familiar voice commented. “By the way, I suggest moving. Unless you want me to send you to an optometrist.”

“Dr. Aster?”

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“The one and only.”

“You’re honestly telling me that my lifelong doctor is a Slayer. MY DOCTOR IS A SLAYER. It’s official. Nothing is real anymore.”

The physician merely grinned and raised his shield in enough time for the flying sword to narrowly miss his face. “You get used to it. All of the council members have been waiting for you to be mature enough to take on the responsibility. We need you.”

“To what? Give the enemy a bigger advantage by being a bumbling amateur?” Tears began to well in the corners of my eyes.

Dr. Aster’s hand cupped my chin and brought me to eye level with him. “To do the best you can and succeed. That’s all. We can handle the rest.”

It could have been the way his warmth reminded me of my parents or that no one had shown me that level of kindness and confidence in my abilities in such a long time that anything would have encouraged me. Whatever it was, it caused the tears to fall, and I threw myself around him and squeezed with all my might.

He gently squeezed back, patting my back towards the end. “Everything will be fine.”

I felt like he was telling the truth and was on the verge of really believing in him until a codgy old voice seemed to resonate through my very core. “Not if she botches the whole thing, it won’t” A different, raspier voice joined in with, “Or if she succumbs to the darkness in her heart.

We cannot very well have an unauthorized demon in our ranks.”

“What? What does that mean?”

My aunt chimed in. “Occupational hazard that comes with wielding Magick. You run the risk of being corrupted by darkness and transforming into a demon. Nothing major.”

“I take a contrary standpoint, Iridessa. Teenage Magick wielders are much more prone to the turn. You should know that personally. After the birth of your son, the end of the world was very nearly on our hands then.”

“Luminesta brought that on and you all know it. If she had told anyone what was brewing under the surface, that could have been avoided altogether.”

“Those people wouldn’t have had to die,” I added.

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Everyone in the room stared at me in horror.

The raspier voiced older newcomer snarled at me. “How do you know that, girl? Who told you that twenty people died the day of Damien’s birth?” She glowered at Iridesa. “It was you, wasn’t it? How many rules must you obliterate completely before you are totally removed from the Slayer community?”

There was no mistaking the outright anger and defiance in my aunt’s eyes. Apparently, she seemed to thrive on pissing these people off. I mean, she loved pissing off any and all authority figures that she could (especially Natalie), but this was a different level of “you can all bite me and go straight back the depths of hell from where you rose.” This was something that had been gestating over a lifetime. A lifetime of hatred and cynicism. Every party on both sides wanted the other dead and had the power to do so. They were just waiting for the right moment to strike.

“I broke no rule. She learned it on her own,” Aunt Iridessa said.

“Very likely,” the older man said before turning his rheumy green eyes on me. “Come to me, Luminesta clone. Come so I may test your integrity.”

Clone? I hesitated while that thought went through my mind. He was not pleased.

“COME HERE, CLONE!” I jumped and made my way to him. He was kind of scary, but I was too preoccupied with the whole “clone” business. Did he really not know that my mother was dead? That I had been living with my step-family for the past nine years? Looking into those spooky, green eyes, I could tell that he honestly thought I was a clone of my mother. I had to set him and his ghoulish partner straight. Looking at them at close range, it seemed as though they were siblings. Twins probably. Both were bowed at the back, and cloaked in black. Their faces were all scrunched up and weasle-like. In fact, if not for the color of their eyes, the style of their hair, and different cadences, I might not have never told them apart. However, upon closer inspection, I noticed that their eyes had a distinctive….snake-like appearance.

Panic swallowed my heart and sweat poured down my face.

“Took you long enough,” the old man said.

We were about the same height (which made me nervous about how tall they would be if they stood up straight). He placed his hand on my forehead. Within seconds, some kind of power started to wrap around my brain. It wasn’t Magick, but it was definitely strong.

He was sifting in my memories like stacks of paper. Events of my life that I couldn’t even 73

fathom remembering flickered by my mind’s eye. My first word (veil), first day at school, and even the first bug I ever ate. It was unsettling, reliving my life while a little weasel man poked and prodded at whatever he chose. I feared that it might never have ended until he suddenly released me. My head swam and burned slightly from the aftermath.

If anyone ever tries to do this again, I’m blowing them to pieces, I swore to myself right then and there.

The man began to brush away the long bang covering my eye before I jerked back in disgust.

“You look like her, yet you are not her. What are you?”

“A person, you blind idiot. And the same goes for my aunt, and you have yet to go rattling around in her head.”

“You would do well to watch your tongue, Clone.” The woman’s rusty tones burned my ears.

“You would do well to show me some respect, dirt rag.”

She seemed as though she would bludgeon me if not for her partner holding her back with a stern look. “Her point is valid, Morgie. At times, we can be a tad straightforward and rude. It may fare us better to ask of her origins.”

“You saw into them, Gaul. Are her memories not real? Fabricated by the rebellious of us all? Is she a true clone of Nicola?”

Gaul bore into me with a stare that dared to prove his partner right and denied it at the very same time. “As far as I gather, she is not.” The intensity of his eyes grew stronger and his voice boomed with absolute gravelly resoluteness. “But memories can be created.

Remember that, girl.”

It was at times like these that I was glad that Damien, Iridesa and I shared the same blood.

Without it, I may have never been able to talk as much smack as I just did. But it was also sort of a bad thing, since I had to fight the urge to actually smack them. “Get to the point.”

Morgie chimed in in his stead. “What are you?”

“I’m a girl, duh.”

“She means ‘who’ are you?”

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I liked that tone better. “Seraphina Xandria Noemi Alexis Rotsday, daughter of Luminesta and Clyde Rotsday. And apparent savior of humanity.”

Morgie scoffed/snorted. “Are you honestly attempting to make my brother and I believe that you are the Child of Prophecy? Hardly so. I will believe it when I see proof.”

You want proof? I thought, narrowing my eyes at the folded over hag. I’ll give you proof.

My hands glowed with blue and gold Magick, casting a menacing sheen on my cheeks and sparking the air with electricity. Instead of people looking awed, scared or impressed, I got squat. I might as well have been a toddler having a fit. My display didn’t warrant the reaction I was banking on. But there was no way I was giving Morgie the satisfaction of seeing me sweat, so I blew up the wall behind her (leaving a very nasty-looking wound on her wrinkled cheek for bonus points) and stormed off to find sharp weapons and dummies to test them on.

“If she is our savior, we might do better if she joined the demons.”

“We have six months to decide whether or not that is true, Morgan.”

“And I still say we’d be better off handing her to the Demon King himself.”

Later that day, my training finally began. Exercise number one: blow up ten dolls with impeccable accuracy. Easy enough. Given that I still harbored some anger towards Morgan. The dolls were Skylar and Scarlett’s old ones, it was a win-win.

“Focus and shoot.”

“Duh, Day.” My first target was Skylar’s Frankenstein of a teddy bear. It had a Raggedy Ann head, baby doll limbs, lion tail and bear body. She used to terrify me with it daily until she and Scarlett learned that snakes were my greatest weakness. I blew its head off with precision and vengeance.

“We may need to advance her lessons, Mom.” Iridesa looked on with mild approval. “We’ll see.”

Ten sets of pristinely murdered dolls later, a dumbfounded Damien and flabbergasted Iridesa moved me to a room with older and more experienced Slayers and put me in their hands.

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A big burly man, whom I recognized as the baker looked down on me with a kind of disapproval he had never really shown to me and asked, “What is she doing here with the advanced Slayers?”

My cousin choked out, “She passed. She did it blindfolded, with them hidden around the practice area and while they were moving.”

The baker rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and? She is still a novice with powers we know nothing about. Just because she did the basics a little bit faster than anyone else means--” “Er, you might need to see this, Shawn,” my adorable older next door neighbor, Ms. Lulu, interrupted.

Shawn the baker turned to see me duking it out with the simulation demon with unprecedented ease. His eyes widened when I twisted away from the program and bulged when I roundhouse kicked it in the jaw with a Magick powered leg. And they just about fell when I blew the head off with one blast of Magick.

I giggled and waved after I saw the reaction I had hoped for earlier.

“She can stay.” *** I trained with my family rigorously over the next six months and my progress was going very well. My combat skills were practically off the charts while training under Iridesa.

She taught me to channel at least a quarter of my Magick into my muscles so they would be stronger and more supple. I had even surpassed some of Damien’s expectations by performing complex spells in four months. Some of my greatest improvements included me being able to make Maria and Milaya walk and talk like little ferret women.

At first, I thought my ferrets might not care for me. Now they could finally tell me how they really felt, and it sort of depressed me as they got adjusted to their new functions. But my tiny mice pals surprised me by shakily walking up to my face and giving me the biggest hugs they could manage. Tears of joy streamed down my face, and I hugged them back.

Ever since that, we became closer.

Following that, the Council Board gave me the position that was my mother’s for five years, Head of the Board. They also gave me the long, thin rapier named Koilin that belonged to my mother. Once they inducted me, I knew things would never be the same.

And I was right.

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A few months before graduation, I started to change.

All of the seniors were buzzing with excitement. This was officially the last fifty-nine and a half days of their high school careers, and no one could take it from them. In fact, they were so jubilant that they didn’t even bother me. If anything, the biggest change was that, for the first time in ages, I was left alone. It also helped that they were dying to get to Josh’s big themed “ball” in two months. The theme: “Cinderella Sucks.” When I first heard about it, I scoffed.

The most suspicious part was when the “prince” himself personally invited me. I decided to avoid it altogether, eliminating the “Carrie” situation. And since there were more snakes than pigs in Sharonstay, that might have been the best thing.

The first time I noticed that big change was happening was during French. Madame Zhou was droning on about one of the short lived revolutions while I was busy zoning out.

Her lectures were getting repetitive and irritating. We get it! The French had a bunch of revolutions! They lost or surrendered in most of them! Just thinking about her idiocy was making my ears burn. Then she had us recite basic stuff that babies knew, and I ground my teeth. She’s an idiot. I could teach this class better than her.

Soon enough, the bell rang, and we all scattered from her room. My body was still buzzing with anger over Madame Zhou’s stupidity. Strands of blue and gold whispered from every follicle as I pushed my way down the hall. My irises felt dry and itchy and stung with a strange kind of heat. I cut my tongue on one of my canines that had grown to an insane length. Confusion slowed my steps.

Two more months, something whispered in my ear. I gasped and whipped around, looking for the source.

There was nothing there. I shrugged and made my way to Calculus.

Fifty-nine and a half days later, it was time to graduate.

During the actual ceremony, I felt hot and frustrated. Why do I have to sit through this? I come from a line of powerful demon killers, and I’m supposed to save the world in four days! I don’t belong here. But I sat patiently until they called for me.

While striding across the stage, my foot caught onto something that was almost like a tail.

I fell face-first, and teenage laughter rang all about the large room. The last thing that reached my ears was an eerily close hissing noise that put images of dracaenas in my head.

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That caused me to all but sprint to grab my diploma. I ran home so fast, I left an afterimage in my wake.

May 16th, the night of the ball, and my nineteenth birthday. Damien and Iridesa gathered all of the Slayers from around the town. Shawn the baker, Dr. Aster, the grocer, and a lot of familiar faces surrounded me on the edge of my huge lawn that led to the house where the party was centered. I was anxious, and my stomach churned. My jaw felt wrong, like the bones were being misshapen from the inside out. I could feel my eyes shift in color and size. The green and yellow dress I had hastily thrown together for the event felt ill-fitting and dirty.

I was just about to begin panicking when the ground started to rumble.

This was it. The beginning of the end.

The earth split open to reveal a beast I hadn’t seen in nineteen years. A body full of green, yellow and purple scales only broken by frighteningly red hair. Shining golden eyes that pierced through you like a knife and a tongue that matched. The top half of her body was unnervingly human-like and the bottom was a fat, slithery snake’s. Her fangs and talons shone even in the dim twilight.

Sorte, the Man-Eater.

“My, my. You certainly grew into a spitting image of your mother, did you not? I wonder if you have her powers.” She slithered over to me, her hot, dry breath smelling of decade old death and… mice. “Do you remember my daughters, Slayer Princess?” Sorte turned and made a grand gesture at… nothing.

“I don’t see—“ My words were cut short as twin snakes leapt into my face, horrible grimy-faced Jack-inthe-boxes with ultra-sharp fangs and forked tongues.

“AAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!” I shrieked. I tried to back away, but the green-eyed and purpleeyed dracaenas dug into my flesh and brought me close to them.

“Where are you going…” the deeper-voiced one started.

“Princess??” the green-eyed one keened.

I cried. Cried big, ugly tears punctuated by yelps of horror and pain whenever the snake women stroked my cheek, licked the tears away. God, why snakes? Snakes had to be one 78

of the worst creatures on the planet and they just had to be the form of the monsters I had to face to save the world. I would have rather turned over the entire human race if it meant they would leave me alone. The sounds of their cackles would haunt me for the rest of my life.

“Kill me,” I breathed desperately. “Just kill me now and end it all.”

Why not become one? the mysterious voice rumbled. You have the potential to become a monster with Magick powers and Slayer skills. All Magick wielders do.

I could do that? If I became a demon, I wouldn’t have to worry about being afraid ever again. I could put my evil stepsisters in their place. I could put everyone who ever hurt me down in the dirt where they belonged. My body grew warm and it seemed as if all of the bones in my body were elongating. A hazy red film draped over my eyes and thoughts.

And I could have sworn that someone was chanting above me. It was so tempting to just let the darkness have me.

“SERAPHINA!” Aunt Iridesa’s voice bled through the haze.

I snapped to attention, the transformation halting in its tracks. My nails had grown into long, curved claws, and my canines were at least an inch longer. Anger rushed through me.

“You dare try to make me into a demon like you,” I snarled, drawing Koilin. “For that, you pay.”

I hadn’t realized there was a full-blown war taking place on the lawn until now. Slayers and demons slashed and hacked each other to shreds.

Sorte charged towards me, blood thirst and rage shining in her golden eyes. The twins stood on her sides and attacked whenever Sorte created an opening. In no time, open wounds spilling red decorated my skin from head to toe. The Man-Eater took one last swing at me before she suddenly vanished and something even more daunting took her place.

A huge red demon that had absolutely no concrete classification. This demon was made of fear and nightmares. I knew it better than I knew myself.

The demon king had finally come out to play.

Silence filled the battle-ravaged clearing as the two of us came face-to-face for the very first time. A hiss to my left made me move closer within his reach, and instead of waiting for him to strike, I hit him with a ball of blue Magick. He doubled over, and the fight began.

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He made a fist and swung, slamming me into a tree clear across the grounds. Pain shot through me, but I forced myself to stand up and strike, driving my blade into the meaty section of his stomach. I dashed out of the way at the exact moment he took another swing at me.

For the most part, our final battle was a series of tucks and dodges with the occasional strike before the last standoff.

“Well, little Slayer, this is the end,” he grumbled in the deepest bass I had ever heard.

“It’s now or never,” I conceded, feeling weak and woozy.

We charged each other, knowing the next blow could mean humanity’s salvation or the demons’ takeover. Our paths crossed, there was a flash of light and it was over. The tension in the air was so thick people were audibly choking. My legs shook and I caught myself on one knee, using my sword as a crutch. I could hear Sorte and the snake twins hiss in celebration.

My response was a big, triumphant smirk. “Didn’t anyone tell you that it isn’t good to count all of you chickens before they hatch?” I asked.

“No!” Anger and desperation saturated their voices while they watched their king fall to pieces.

I called out the ultimate spell I had been practicing for the last four months, “PULIZIA DEL DIVINO!!” and drove my hand into the fissure from which they came.

The last thing I heard was the cheering of triumphant Slayers and the howls and wails of various monsters as they disappeared back into the Underworld.

Three months later, I placed a box full of my clothes on my brand new bed at the veterinarian’s college in Bradsville. Iridesa and Damien lived in the big townhouse that I inherited two seconds after killing the Demon King and permanently banishing his queen and daughters from this world. The ball had been in full swing, and I had singlehandedly called them all out before having the rest of the Slayers personally escort them, Natalie Clark and all, out on the street to find their own place to live. Natalie had come back, demanding that I quit the shenanigans, but a blazing display of Magick sent her on her merry way.

I haven’t seen her or her daughters since.

In the months following the comeuppance of the almost Demon Apocalypse, I had gained 80

control of Sharonstay. I gave that to Damien and Iridesa, so they could hold down the fort while I ďŹ nished college. Morgan wasn’t particularly pleased with that, and that made my aunt even more eager to take the position. All in all, things had wrapped up pretty nicely.

In a Cinderella tale that involved demons and magic, the starving heroine made her own happy ending.

The End

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