Chapter 4: Magical Girl

‘Book club.’ Just the thought made me nauseous, but it was a good excuse. I told Jake we’d be heading out and I’d probably be back late. When I went back downstairs, Megan was already waiting by the door.

“Ready to go?” She asked.

“I guess.” I was not looking forward to whatever came next.

“They won’t hurt you again, just so you know. The cult considers you divine now.”

I wasn’t sure I believed it. I certainly didn’t feel divine, and I wasn’t about to place my trust in the psychopaths that took pleasure in torturing me, but at least I wasn’t alone. Nightingale would help me if something bad happened, right? I hoped so.

We walked down the street in silence. I had a million questions, but none of them were for outside. I guess that could be one benefit of the evil cult, it gave us a hideout safe from prying eyes; somewhere to talk about magical girl stuff. I stopped in my tracks when the bookstore came into view. My breaths became rapid and my heart thundered in my chest. Megan reached down, gently took my hand, and gave it a slight tug.

“Come on. Deep breaths. Close your eyes if you have to. We’ll go in through the back.”

I listened. Shutting my eyes, I repeated to myself ‘it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.’ I tried to calm down, forcing myself to breathe out slowly, and let Megan guide me behind the store. Her hand was warm and comforting against the cold air.

“We’re here. Open your eyes.”

I did, and found myself facing a plain metal door in a brick wall. It had a round knob with a lock built into the center. Megan let go of my hand, reached into her pocket, and produced a key, gesturing it towards me.

“Here, this is for you.”

I took it, and she stepped back while I plodded over to the door, gingerly inserting the key into the lock. I breathed deeply, and quickly turned the key to fling the door open.

It didn’t budge.

I tried again, but neither the door nor the lock gave way. I looked to Megan for help, all of my determination rapidly deflating.

“Other way” she said plainly.

I tried turning the key in the opposite direction, and blushed as the lock clicked open. We headed inside, making sure to lock the door behind us, and I looked around. It was an undecorated grey hallway; a couple electric lights sparsely hung from the ceiling and boxes were stacked along the walls. Halfway down was a turn to the right and at the end of the hall was another metal door.

“We’re going straight. You’ll recognize the room.”

Sure enough, we opened the door and a familiar sight of jars lining the walls greeted me; shelves upon shelves of ping pong balls. The floor had clearly been cleaned recently, not a speck of blood left where I was lying last night, but the same bag and poultice still sat on the wooden table.

“First thing first, let’s check your wounds” Megan said.

Now that I thought about it, they were already feeling a lot better. There was still a dull throb, but that wasn’t nearly as bad as this morning.

“Will I need new bandages?”

Megan shook her head. “With Lord Shiquoth’s help, they should be healed by now. There will be a scar, that’s not going away, but the injury itself will be gone.”

I shuddered. A scar. A permanent reminder of what happened. But I guess just being a magical girl would be a reminder as well, wouldn’t it.

My cheeks flushed red with embarrassment as I lifted my shirt. Megan needed to unwrap the bandages, and even though she’d already seen everything last night I hadn’t been conscious enough at the time to care; now I was. She methodically unwound the cloth, dark red stains soaked in to half its length, and the tightness loosened. It felt like I could finally breathe. She placed them on the table, the dried blood ominous and obvious, and turned back to me.

“Now, it’s magical girl time. Before anything else, you need to learn to transform.” With that, her form shimmered and Megan vanished. Instead, the black haired, grey eyed magical girl Nightingale stood before me.

“So what do I do? Do I need to design an outfit or something?”

“No, that part is a surprise. The transformation is a gift from Lord Shiquoth. Strictly speaking, they reshape your soul. Not changing it, just… making things a bit more efficient. You’ll be stronger; not superhuman, not us, but at least stronger than most adults.”

That was a lot to take in. “So this… soul stuff is what makes you look different?”

“Something like that” she said. “The outfit is a natural consequence as well, so you should like the result. After all, it’s born from you.”

“And I transform by asking the god to do it?”

“Yes” she confirmed. “Lord Shiquoth. Or Lady, if you so prefer. It doesn’t matter. Some girls even use nicknames. But a title is important; it shows respect.”

I nodded. Honestly, despite everything, I was a little excited. Nothing had gone wrong yet, and I was about to truly become a magical girl. Not just in name, but in being. So I closed my eyes and prayed.

“Lord Shiquoth, please allow me to transform.”

So you are ready, maiden.

Chills ran down my spine as the eerie voice invaded my mind. I gasped and opened my eyes, finding that my clothes had changed. I was now wearing a black blouse with long sleeves, frills at the ends and around my collar. The shoulders puffed out with more frills. A white ribbon hung from my neck, with eight ivory buttons running down the front. Two snowy ribbons sat on either side of the waist of my long, pleated charcoal skirt. I had simple black loafers with white, ankle high socks that once again had frills at the top. Finally, I checked my hair. It hung loose down my back and over my shoulders, having turned dark in color and even growing a few inches longer.

“Congratulations. You look cute.”

I blushed at the compliment and looked up at Nightingale. I was about to say ‘thank you,’ but stopped. Something moved on the shelf behind her. In a jar slightly to the right, one of the little white balls turned around. The lone, beady black pupil with a brown iris stared directly at me, into me, first rotating clockwise, then counterclockwise.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

I screamed, stumbling back and falling on my rear. Nightingale flinched, startled by my sudden outburst but not yet aware of what was happening. She raised an eyebrow, and I pointed behind her as another eye turned to face us, then two more, and another four after. Soon, every jar on every shelf of ever wall in the room was filled with eyeballs looking directly at us. I screamed again, but Nightingale, looking completely unfazed, slowly turned and took it all in.

“Yeah” she calmly remarked, “that’ll do it.”

“What the fuck is…” But before I could finish, the voice sounded in my head again, and my breath caught.

You are right to fear, but do not let it persist.

Still entirely unconcerned with the situation, Nightingale turned back to me and delivered the most unfittingly bland introduction she possibly could.

“It seems Lord Shiquoth has elected to visit us.”

My heart pounded, threatening to jump out and run away. I was tempted to do the same, but couldn’t muster enough strength in my legs to escape. I crawled toward the center of the room, as far from the omnipresent gaze as I could get, feeling entirely trapped and exposed.

Stand. I did not permit you to grovel.

I flinched as the god spoke again.

“It’s in my head” I cried. “The voice is in my head.” I curled further into a ball on the floor.

“Rebecca.” Suddenly hearing Nightingale call my name, I looked up at her. Had I even told it to her? “I know this is startling, but it’s going to become your normal from now on. You need to stand before your god.”

With that, she offered me a hand. Hesitantly, I took it, and Nightingale swiftly pulled me onto me feet. I almost fell again immediately, needing to lean on her for balance.

Good. Now you will name yourself.

I jumped, and Nightingale patted me on the shoulder.

“Name?” I looked at her with pleading eyes, not sure if she even understood what I meant.

“What Lord Shiquoth is saying is that you need to come up with an alias. You’re a magical girl now, so you need a magical girl name.”

Nightingale took a step back, leaving me to stand on my own. It was hard, and I still shied away from the rows of eyes surrounding me, but I somehow managed to stay upright. A name. I’d actually thought about this, briefly. Fortunately there was already a theme right in front of me, so it wasn’t hard.

“Ravensong” I whispered.

Nightingale looked at me, something flashing in her eyes. “What?”

“My name. I’ll be Ravensong. You know, like the bird?”

“I know what a bird is” she snapped. I had not seen her do that before. It clashed with the calm attitude she’d shown until now. “Why’d you feel the need to pick a bird?”

“Well… you’re going to be my mentor, right? So I thought I’d stick to the theme and…”

“There is no theme. Here, just look at me.” Nightingale grabbed the sides of her speckled cape and started flapping her arms. It was almost comical. “I’m basically a bird, so I picked something to match. You don’t have that in your outfit.”

“But nightingales aren’t…”

“I know what nightingales are!” She was fuming at this point, so I shut my mouth.

She regrets her name. A mistake of ignorance and stubbornness. Pitiful.

“Ah.”

“What do you mean ‘Ah?’ The hell were you just told? You know what; I don’t need to hear it.” With that, she turned away, taking a moment to breathe and calm down before turning back to me. “So, ravens. You chose it because it’s black bird?”

“And the poem.”

“Poem?”

“Edgar Allan Poe. The Raven.”

“Ah, right, okay that makes sense. It’s certainly fitting.” She thought for a moment, and then raised an eyebrow at me. “So why the song part?”

“Because it’s cute?”

She seemed satisfied with that. I figured it wasn’t the time to start talking about odes. A moment later, I saw a slight twitch in her eye, and she turned to the table.

“Right, enough messing around, we need to get you prepared.” She walked over to the bag and rummaged through looking for something. I glanced around the room, flinching when I remembered I was being watched. I looked down at my feet to avoid their gaze.

“Okay, here we are. This is for you.”

I looked up, and Nightingale offered me something. It was a shining, silvery rod about half the length of my forearm. One end had a dark gemstone affixed to it, and the other ended in a sharp spike with four arches branching out from the side as if meant to hold something.

“That’s your wand. It’s pure silver, so don’t lose it.” I took the wand and watched as it glistened under the light. Was it really okay for me to have something so valuable? “And this, is your catalyst.”

She opened her other hand to reveal a small pale orb. It rolled to look up at me, a thin grey ring encompassing the bottomless black dot at its center. An eyeball. I staggered back, but Nightingale grabbed my arm before I could fall again.

“Look at me, Ravensong.” I wasn’t used to the name yet, but I listened anyway. The dark grey in her eyes felt especially unnerving. “You’ll have to get over that squeamishness soon, and the best way is through exposure. This is a gift from Lord Shiquoth, take it.”

With that, she gestured the eye at me again, a little more forcefully this time. I stared at it, and it stared unblinkingly back. I bent over and retched, but was able to keep my lunch down.

Take it.

I shuddered as the voice commanded me, but stood back up and took the eye without looking. A slimy feeling seeped into my hand and I almost dropped it, but the fear of a god’s wrath kept my fingers locked like iron.

“Good. Now you need to affix it to the wand.”

I looked at Nightingale like she had two heads. “What do you mean ‘affix?’”

Impale my gift upon the mount.

I looked at the wand and violently coughed as realization hit me. I was supposed to attach it myself? On the spike?

“The faster the better. Trust me.”

My hands shook, but I could tell she meant it, and there was no getting around this. Slowly, I lined the eye up with the point of the wand, and in one rapid motion thrust it down. I felt the squelch of metal digging into jelly and dropped it. Without missing a beat, Nightingale grabbed the wand out of the air and offered it back to me.

“Here. You did well.” I wiped my hands on my skirt, and hesitantly took it back, being careful not to look at the end. “Now you can learn to fight.”

“What do you mean? Do I cast spells with this or something?”

“It will shoot lasers.”

I looked her straight in the eye, but Nightingale was completely serious.

“So lasers. Okay. Why?”

Because my power is supreme.

“Because it’s magic.”

Neither of those answers was helpful, but I didn’t have it in me to question further. The all-powerful magic eyeball would shoot lasers, and that was all I needed to know.

“Also, you need to remember that it will rot. You have about a week. After that you’ll need a replacement. It’s flesh, so it needs organs to survive.”

I blanched. “So I’ll need to add organs to this as well?”

“No” she replied, “you attach it to your own.”

Before I could ask what she meant, something moved under her skin. A horizontal split appeared on Nightingale’s upper right arm, and then spread open to reveal the translucent white sphere, with its disturbingly familiar grey iris and black pupil which rapidly dilated under the light to focus on me. Another opened on her forearm, and I noticed another pair staring from her left side. My legs gave out and I slammed into the floor. From there, I could see another gaze following me from her outer thigh.

I rolled over, putting my hands under me, and without an ounce of restraint promptly regurgitated the contents of my stomach.