PERIWINKLE

When the door to my cage finally opens, at first I don’t quite believe it. I’ve been squashed in here for what must have been multiple days, lifted and jostled more times than I can count.

And I’m a very good counter.

I know better than to try to leap straight toward possible freedom. If someone’s mean enough to put you in a cage, they’ll probably be just as mean when you’re out of it.

So I stay contracted in my shadowy form amid the searing lights that burned away every hint of darkness within the metal box. Beyond the door, there’s a sliver of shadow along the base of the cage. The urge to dive into it tingles through me.

Off beyond the blazing lights, someone intones a several syllables in a language that seeps right into my essence.

Come out and show your human-like form, the sounds say as they radiate through me. Then stay until you’re dismissed.

I can’t resist any more than I could have ignored the call that brought me to this cage in the first place. I waver through the doorway and solidify into the figure that comes naturally to me, complete with my daisy-print dress and rainbow-striped hoodie.

My hands form stuffed in my pockets. I blink and peer around the plain room with its blue-gray walls and bright florescent panels on the ceiling, my body tensed defensively.

I can’t imagine anyone is ever happy in this place. Within the dour walls, the only furniture is a big kidney-shaped table made from stainless steel and seven matching chairs set around the outer curve. I don’t think the seats even have padding.

This place really could use better interior decorating. Cushions for comfort. Maybe a rug? Art on the walls to liven things up.

Proving my point: the emotions drifting over me from the beings studying me from where they sit in the six occupied chairs. The two strongest vibes in the room are curdled-milk apprehension and stale-bread boredom. Not a meal I could even subsist on.

My cage opened up to a spot in front of the inner curve of the table. As the six pairs of eyes around it study me, I peer at the seated figures in turn.

The first face my gaze lands on makes me flinch. It’s the sorcerer who dragged me into that cage in the first place—obviously he’s the one who called me out as well.

His eyes, a deeper brown than his cedarwood skin, hold mine steadily from beneath the fall of his wavy black hair. His elbows brace against the tabletop, his broad shoulders rigid.

But despite his stern appearance, a pang of his guilt hits me like a shot of lemon juice.

The other sorcerer I’ve known never felt guilty about anything. At least, not around me.

Looking at him still makes me nervous, and nervous is not an enjoyable feeling. I yank my gaze onward.

Next to the young sorcerer sits a shadowkind similarly shaped to myself—female, youthful, short and curvy—with a head of blond curls and dimples in her cheeks. Some of the apprehension is trickling off her, but she’s smiling widely.

I’m not close enough to be able to tell whether she’s feeling happier than her most prominent emotions suggest or the smile is a lie. Not knowing makes my skin itch.

Her other neighbor is a tall, wiry woman with a few silver streaks running through her sleek black bob. Like the sorcerer, she’s human.

No smile from her—her lips press in a flat line.

The other three members of my audience are shadowkind. The first pushes her long dark blue hair back over her slim shoulders with a melodic sigh, but her gaze stays intent on me.

The big, muscular man next to her gives me a feral impression—I think he must be an animal shifter of some sort. His thick fingers rest against the tabletop in a curved position as if mimicking claws, but he’s more disinterested than concerned.

Most of the boredom emanates from the last figure: a sleekly elegant man in an old-fashioned suit whose skin is so pale it might be translucent. I suspect that if I stare hard enough, I might see his skull through it. He leans back in his chair, folding his arms loosely over his chest.

I’m not picking up any outright murderous intentions so far. But they did kidnap me and lock me up for days.

Why would shadowkind do that do another being like them? Why are they working with a sorcerer?

Is there any way I can put them at ease so they’ll look more kindly on me?

I push my mouth into a smile. “It’s not very nice to shove someone in a cage, but I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding. What are we all doing here?”

The wiry human woman’s lips press even flatter at my question. The shadowkind woman with the bright curls lets out an equally bright tinkle of a laugh.

With a vaguely annoyed expression, the woman with the long blue hair leans forward. Even tartly formal, her voice sounds as melodic as her sigh did. “Unknown shadowkind, you’ve been brought in for our assessment because you’ve been causing inappropriate disruptions in the mortal realm.” She motions toward the sorcerer. “What exactly did this one do again?”

The sorcerer sits up straighter. “We believe she’s responsible for multiple incidents in Ithaca in the past year. A few times, they were bright waves of light that blinded human citizens for long enough to caused car accidents, falls, and other damaging consequences. At least once, there was also a temporary flood of darkness with similar results.”

A chill washes over me. How long have these strange people been paying attention to me?

“I didn’t do any of it on purpose,” I blurt out. “I never wanted to hurt anyone, I promise.”

The pale man’s eyebrows arch. His tone is as indifferent as his emotions. “Well, that gets the question of whether she’s the true culprit out of the way.”

The blond woman beams at me. “Why don’t you tell us how it happened? Oh, no, better—let’s start with the basics. What’s your name? What kind of being are you?”

A genuine warmth seeps through her words as if they’ve been spread with melted butter. I like her. I don’t think she wants to shove me back in the cage.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

With that reassurance, my answering smile comes easier. “My name’s Periwinkle—but usually I tell people Peri, because it’s shorter and sounds less strange to humans. I don’t know if what I am has a name.”

The muscular man drums his fingers on the table with an impatient air. “What do you do? Other than blind mortals.”

The hint of a snarl in those last few words has me wincing. “I—I absorb emotions. I kind of… eat them.”

I jerk my gaze back to the buttery woman. “Eating them doesn’t hurt people. They don’t even notice. But I need to come here to get properly nourished. Humans have so many more feelings, and so much bigger, than shadowkind usually do, and I can only totally absorb them when I’m in physical form.”

The wiry woman gives me a skeptical look. “And yet you’ve managed to harm quite a few people just in one year.”

A shamed blush heats my cheeks. “Those… those were accidents. I haven’t had a lot of practice at this.” Not at keeping control over my own reactions rather than having someone else drive them.

I wrench my thoughts away from those chilling memories. “If I get full of too much emotion all at once, it bursts out of me. Bright if they were happy emotions, dark if not so much. I don’t know how to stop it from happening. But I’ve been working on it. I think I’m getting closer to finding out the right balance—so I’m not hungry but I don’t get overwhelmed.”

The blue-haired woman’s gaze rakes up and down me. “And that’s all you want? Just to eat some emotions?”

I recover my smile. “And make people happy. Spread the good emotions around.”

Bring a little joy into mortal lives one by one until I can count more of those than the lives I’ve wounded.

I don’t think these beings will be very happy if I mention the crimes of my more distant part, so I keep those to myself and gaze hopefully at them. A whiff of relief reaches me from at least one of them, crisp and lightly sweet.

The muscular man lets out a snort.

The blonde shoots a quick glare at him before returning her attention to me. “If we could teach you how to control your power better before you go back around humans, would you want that?”

They want to… help me? I hesitate, having trouble wrapping my mind around that idea in combination with the sorcery and the cage. “Teach me how?”

The wiry woman takes over. “It’s like this: we run a school for shadowkind who are having trouble integrating into the mortal realm. Sometimes beings who could use our guidance are unaware of us.”

“Which is totally not their fault!” the blonde pipes up.

The wiry woman narrows her eyes at her companion, but with an accompanying waft of ginger-snap affection that I absorb in one gulp. She isn’t all dourness.

She turns back to me. “We can offer you a choice: either you commit to working through our program here at the Quinn Moody Academy for the Shadowkind until we judge that it’s safe for you to mingle with humans again, or we banish you to the shadow realm. Jonah and Shanty can combine their powers to compel you to avoid any rifts for a long time.”

She motions to the sorcerer and the blue-haired woman, who I guess has some kind of shadowy persuasive skill.

I don’t even need to think to make that choice. But before I can speak, the pale man makes a disgruntled sound. “Hold on a moment. Are we sure we should be giving her a choice at all? It sounds as if she’s caused quite a lot of harm already with these unpredictable powers of hers.”

A lump fills my throat. One death, seven major injuries, and twenty-three minor wounds just in the most recent incident.

I told you I’m a good counter.

The muscular guy rumbles low in his chest. “We’ve never had a being like her here before. I’ve never seen this specific power before. It could be too unruly. She might disrupt the students too.”

Icy panic sweeps through my veins. Are they going to banish me to the shadow realm without a chance to fix the mess I made? Leave me floating in that dreary realm where I’ll dwindle to the thinnest possible shadow of myself?

I fumble for my words. “I won’t. I’ll do whatever you ask me to do. I want to be better! I want to make everything better. Please. I’ll starve if I can’t leave the shadows.”

All at once, I notice the eyebrows rising on most of the faces around the table. I didn’t pull my hood up—my turquoise hair is emanating a desperate pea-green glow.

“Well, that’s certainly something,” the being named Shanty says in a dry tone.

Mr. Muscles pushes to his feet with a growl. “What are you doing? Are you trying to blast us with light? How dare—”

“No!” I clasp my hands in front of me. “That happens even when I’m feeling something a little strongly. No one’s ever gotten hurt from just that glow. But I can’t help it. Unless… maybe you could teach me how to turn it off too?”

It’d definitely be handy not to have to worry about my hair blinking on like a nightlight with every shift of my own emotions.

The blonde sweeps her hand in my direction. “Listen to her! She’s already committed, and she’ll obviously work hard to avoid getting banished. We don’t see that kind of dedication often. Or are you afraid you can’t handle a little unruliness, Gnash?”

She aims the last teasing jab at the muscular man, who glowers at her.

Shanty nods slowly. “Rollick founded the Academy on the principle that every shadowkind deserves the opportunity to enjoy the mortal realm if they’re willing to co-exist with its natural inhabitants. He would say to give her a trial period.”

“He’s not here to say it, though, is he?” the pale man says tartly.

The wiry woman glances around the table. “He hasn’t made his convictions a secret. Shanty’s right.”

“I agree,” the sorcerer says.

My gaze flicks to him—Jonah, the human woman said his name is. This is the first time he’s spoken since the questioning began.

He doesn’t look at me, only his colleagues. Whatever he’s feeling about his declaration, his emotions are too conflicted for more than the thinnest wisps to waver across the room to me: a cluttered mix of sour, bitter, and a softly sweet tang.

The blonde lifts her head with a triumphant air. “There you go. It’s four to two even without Rollick’s vote.” She winks at me. “Assuming from what you’ve said that you do what to give the school a go.”

“Yes,” I say, with all the enthusiasm I can summon, the fearful glow fading from my head. “Yes, please.”

Gnash growls but gives a flippant gesture of acceptance. The pale man inclines his head. “So be it. Jonah?”

The sorcerer stands up. His deep brown eyes are fixed on me now.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. Then a few more syllables of sorcerous compulsion roll off his tongue and wind around my being.

As the command to remain within the school’s walls sinks into my mind, I can only stare back at him. What was he apologizing for?

And why does the emotion coursing off him now carry a stodgy porridge flavor of sadness?