Finishing the last bit of prep. Brushing out my nearly dry hair and carefully braiding it. No loose strands. My new set of clothing, my incognito set reprised, clean and neat and sharp. Foregoing the white blouse this time – too tough to keep clean – in favor of a black one with shiny buttons, but keeping the same knee length black skirt, this time with grey accents, long black socks and a new pair of comfortable black leather shoes. The outfit leaving my forearms bare and entirely suitable for running. Completing the ensemble, but tossed on the bed at the moment, a light grey cloak to ward off the chill of the season. A prim, proper, precise and, above all, professional presentation. Today, like yesterday, and the day before, and all those other days, the first day of the rest of my life. Same as it ever was. But, on this particular day, my new debut - my absolutely no choice but to show under possible pain of death and dismemberment - debut. My new face presented to Haven and to the world. Decent and respectable and not at all plotting, scheming or homicidal.
Doing a pose in the mirror and spinning around. The braid, unconstrained, sailing along the full three sixty. Maybe use Tracing to put on a semblance of makeup, color my lips a shade of red, add a touch of blush or maybe some discrete eyeliner? Losing control of my grin. Maybe go full clownface: a demonic leer, a staggering, flesh hungry ghoul, a skeletal deathmask. Touching the light and exiting my moderately less cluttered and much more livable six by eight cell. Hopefully none of those prove necessary tonight.
My remaining warden still waiting out in the hall. Opening his mouth to say something but then thinking better of it, giving a small shake of his head. “You about done taking your sweet time?” he says.
“Madam Garland requested that I show up to dinner,” hopefully not as the meal, “so the very least I can do is show a little respect by making myself presentable.”
“It'd be more respectful if you didn't show up late.”
“You didn't need to wait for me if you're hungry. You could've gotten food without me.” Kyle giving another shake of his head. “I'd have found my way there.”
“Are you deliberately trying to annoy me?”
“You won't need to ask that question when I'm actually trying. You'll know full well.”
A third shake and then his hand gesturing. C'mon, already.
The general layout of the building had subtly shifted since the sun had set. A turn that had been there when we'd come back now missing, going right and then straight. Passing by a few members of the House on the way over, but not getting anything more than some brief glances out of the corner of their eyes. The faint, growing murmur of conversation in the long hallway filling each of my steps with trepidation, but the growing smell of food right alongside it pulling me forward. The sound a dull roar, turning the corner and- Packed. Everyone's in here. It must be the entire House.
The Druidic magic had caused the canopy of branches above to pull back, allowing in moon and starlight from the clear sky above. Lights along the perimeter illuminated the standing room only crowd in what has to be their combination meeting and dining area for the House.
“Macarthy,” Madam Garland's amplified voice a twinkling melody to accent all the stars overhead, “how nice of you to join us. Please come up here.”
The conversation filling the room dropping an octave, light and cheerful being replaced with grumbles of suspicion as they began looking around. That's totally unnecessary, she's the absolute worst. Whatever. She's probably somewhere over in that direction.
“Excuse me, pardon me, excuse me...”
People turning at my polite requests and gentle taps. Invariably looking over my head, and then down. Their hard set expressions giving way to curiosity or disbelief before moving aside to let me squeeze by. Breaking through the outer ring and not being greeted with a scaffold, or a quartet of horses with thick ropes to draw and quarter, or even a bubbling cookpot perched atop a bonfire. The scene presented to me almost as bad, or maybe worse, in a way. Madam Garland, insufferably exultant. A crouching toad dominating a large table. Next to her, the Augur, whispering in her mistress's ear. Mister Garland on her other side with an inscrutable expression - focusing on the crowd behind me.
“Take a seat.” The woman gesturing at the single stool sitting offset from the table all the way out there in no man's land. Beginning my trek.
Polite and professional. No reason to go overboard, no reason to threaten, no reason to act completely insane. These are very reasonable, legitimately curious people. The ones behind me, that is, not the ones in front. These people don't know what to believe and in this moment their hearts and their minds are open to the possibilities. Better to fill their receptive, empty little noodles with my particular brand of cheese, rather than letting her fill them with some kind of moldy, rancid goop. Hopefully they didn't sabotage the stool. Taking a leap of faith and bounding atop what would undoubtedly prove itself to be my soon-to-be pyre.
Madam Garland not surprised, not upset, possibly even in a better mood now than only moments ago. Not a scrap of jewelry on her. Wait, no, she's still wearing that one ruby ring on her right hand, but not the matching one on her left. And a discrete necklace and a small bracelet. Those must be the real, enchanted ones, but why all the gaudy fakes out in public? Hopefully she doesn't think they look good. Turning my back on her and preparing to dispense an overly large dose of good old fashioned, grade A parmesan on all these ready to be seasoned bowls of pasta.
Be silent.
The mental command radiating in a wave and my jaw clamping shut. She's not playing fair at all. Opening my mouth to test my current limitations and a small sound coming out. The spell resisted, at least in part. Fine, if that's how she wants to do things, may as well play along. Madam Garland's ruby adorned bludgeoning appendage draping over my shoulder. Delivering her best wicked stepmother impersonation.
“Just stand still and focus on looking pretty and being pleasant. Think happy thoughts. A girl your age should be seen and not heard.”
***
Finally drifting off to sleep - finally - and what feels like almost immediately waking up. Well, this is strange. Pinching myself to confirm. Yep, can feel it fine.
The walls and floor of my little six by eight cell had become some kind of polymer, very similar to the material we use outside but - with my hand providing confirmation - this is still inside the grid. The door looks like it has the same kind of mechanical apparatus, as well. If so, it probably has the same motion sensors.
No, they're not working. Well, the ones outside have safety overrides, if this one is like them maybe that'll work. Placing my hand against the surface of the control panel. Reshape. Peeling away the outer layer to expose the wires and circuitry underneath. This one and this one. Carve. Snip, snip. Releasing the spell and then shorting the two wires together. *fchoo* The door opening with the same sound as the ones outside. A man dressed in his smallclothes and wearing a dazed expression shambling past the open doorway.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Excuse me.”
My question having no effect, the man ignoring me completely and continuing on his way down the corridor. That's odd. Debating for a few moments and then following after him. Turning the corner and finding that one had become several. Others coming out of their rooms to join him on his journey. Two with a dazed look, and not completely dressed, but the others fully alert. One of the girls, a Druid, a member of the Pact, looking in my direction.
“I guess I shouldn't be surprised,” she says.
“What's going on?”
“It's lesson time. If you make us get punished again we're going to make you pay.”
“I-” The looks from the others radiating pure hate. Not a threat, a promise. Hours ago, at the meeting, they'd been nothing but curious. Now, they're about one step away from true violence. “I won't.”
The girl letting out a derisive sound. Turning to one of her dazed companions and unleashing a hard, openhanded slap. “Wake up and get dressed. If you're late we're going to get punished.” The other more alert members of Haven – and this is Haven, some kind of weird funhouse, mirror universe version of it, at any rate – visiting similar violence on the other dazed members and making similar demands. Falling in with their group and heading in the direction of the meeting area.
As large as the room had been before, it's new configuration had become three to four times the size. The woodland ambiance replaced by an upholstered conglomeration of pastel couches and lounge chairs, with beverages and food available, and a few hookahs expelling that familiar sweet scent. Upon seeing the layout my companions visibly relaxing.
“They're not upset,” says one.
“Don't you make her angry,” says another, to me.
Taking a seat at one of the stations and watching as the room filled up. New entrants invariably having the same reaction, apprehensiveness giving way to relief. Five minutes passing and all the quiet conversations coming to an end. Everyone's attention becoming fixated on the entrance. Tension building and then a thing, a shadow, gliding into the room, tall and willowy – almost ten feet – it's interior like blackened stardust. It's attention briefly on me, but then moving to the center of the room.
There will be no lesson tonight. You have all been very good and we are most pleased. Tonight will be game night.
All that unbearable tension breaking. Whoops and cries of excitement filling the area.
Now, because it's game night, we need designated toys. The following are the toys.
Five beams of light coming from above and illuminating five of the group. My minder, Kyle, that Ranger from the locker room, the two other members from the locker room and, to my right, the Druid.
“This is your fault, Macarthy.” Kyle standing up and looking around for me. “I'll get you for this.”
His threat lost amid the pleasant babbling from the much larger group of non selected members. The Druid to my right going pale, her attention now on the floor between her legs. The thing at the center of the room gliding in my direction.
Macarthy, you have a special lesson tonight. Leave them to their frolic and come with me. The last bit with the unmistakable weight of command. Getting to my feet and following the thing out of the room.
“What are you planning on doing with me?”
Nothing overly harsh. I'm pleased with your progress so far.
“My progress?”
We've only had one session and you've already made steps to embrace your new identity. Maybe the next phase will be punctuality.
We already had one session? Bits and pieces coming back. Exhaustion and pain.
“I don't follow.”
Your outfit. The fact that you're wearing it right now means that you're most receptive. I have high hopes for you.
“My outfit, what about it? I hate to break it to you, but this is basically my regular outfit.” Something inside the thing shifting. Displeasure. “I mean, I did change the color of the top because this won't show dirt as easily, but I've been wearing something like this for awhile now. It looks good, don't you think?”
You don't feel embarrassed to be wearing women's clothing?
“What?” Letting out a giggle that gets progressively louder. “Why would I? The clothes look good and they fit.” The displeasure only increasing. “That's something I never really thought about until I was getting fitted for a dress for the gala. Men look strange in women's clothing – we all know it - but why is that? Why do they look so jarring? The answer is simple, the reason they look so awkward is because of the way the clothes themselves are designed, and how they fit. Men don't have the hips for hip hugging dresses and skirts, and because they have broad shoulders, of course they look ridiculous in clothing that's meant to accentuate the feminine. A fat man in a dress is actually less awkward because he and his fat bitch counterpart have the same basic shape: round.”
Be silent. The wave of command rolling over me-
-and then washing right off. “You don't agree?”
Receiving stony silence in reply. Continuing along our route – upward, we'd been moving gradually upward - and passing by an open door. The room inside sterilized, disinfected, scrubbed clean and sanitized. A metal table, with straps and manacles attached for restraining whatever would be worked on, had been bolted to the floor. Underneath it sits a drain. Hooks along the walls hold a variety of tools, mostly of the cutting variety, scissors, scalpels, bolt cutters, hacksaws, awls, as well as a couple of the more traditional ones for the torturer's trade, hammer and pliers.
This may be something of a problem, should probably start taking this whole situation a little more seriously. Where's this thing taking me, anyway?
“Um...”
This is where disobedient children get sent for correction. I'd been hoping to avoid it, but he may be right. We'll see how tonight goes, but you'll probably need to spend at least several sessions in here.
He. Now who would that be? Almost grasping it - it should be easy, but for some reason it's tough to bring together - and then the thought sliding away. And this thing, it's female. Don't know why it seems like that, but that's the general impression it seems to be giving off.
“You're not the Guardian of the Grove, are you?”
The Guardian-? The thing shaking in mirth. Letting out a sound of nails on a chalkboard. After I'd been having second thoughts, you come out and say something so exquisitely funny. I take it all back, you're a once in a lifetime project, I'll relish all the difficulties in shaping you. And no, I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm not the Guardian of the Grove.
“I figured. Garland doesn't seem like the type to worship a nature deity.”
A protracted pause. Speak.
“Look at this place. The Druids can't do anything right now because there isn't even a twig laying around. Maybe if you were in the shape of a praying mantis I could see you being a nature diety. Only then would I believe that someone like her is actually-”
Be silent.
“You wanted to know and I'm telling you.”
Be silent.
“Just to let you know, your magic didn't work on me those other times. I was only being polite. You may want to consider asking, next time.”
Truly a disobedient child. That'll the lesson for you today then: no talking back. A massive wave of power surrounding the last three words forcing my mouth shut.
“Do you think you're gonna make me?” Fighting through the compulsion and then splitting the twinkling starry blackness with a slice of my hand. The projection dissolving into mist. “When I find the real you in here, Garland, I'm going to force you to watch me pull this whole place down around your head.”
***
Stretching my arms as the final remnants of last night's dream faded from my consciousness. Bounding out of bed full of energy - never felt better - and ready to seize the day by the neck. The Druids must've done something to allow people to sleep so well. Maybe being stuck at Haven isn't such a bad thing after all.