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The Glyph Queen
30a. Revolver

30a. Revolver

2022, March 23th

Collapse - 27 years

Katherine watched from her front door as Josephine drove off.

She should've felt ecstatic. Today, she'd discovered her own magical power, a powerful one at that. Tomorrow, she would leave with a coven of like-minded people. Why could she not shake the feeling that something was wrong?

Maybe it was her inner pessimist—the part of her that was certain that good things just didn't happen to her—but she couldn't stop replaying the million little glimpses she'd seen inside Alex's mind.

The coven was not the cheerful family they pretended to be. They had arguments, feuds, and cliques, just like high schoolers. But for her, they put on a show, because they wanted her. She was an acquisition, but the smiles had come down today. The moment Alexander realized she was reading his mind, she'd gone from being an annoyance to him to a mortal threat. He wasn't the only mind reader now. Josephine thought that he might behave better from now on, but Josephine had never seen inside his head.

And there was Sakhr. He'd been careful not to look at her, but she'd seen enough about him in Alex's mind. His power defined him. He was the bodyswapper, the one who kept them all alive. If someone could ever replace him in that role, it would provoke something in him far different than better behavior.

She went inside. Her father was in the other room watching the Badgers game. When he saw her, he muted it and meandered to the kitchen.

"How was Jesse's?" He leaned casually on the counter while Katherine pried her boots off.

"It was okay. We finished the homework and just watched some television."

Her father nodded, his mild curiosity sated, but then Katherine met his gaze. Her mind filled with thoughts that told a different story.

He had tried to look ‘Jesse' up in the school directory. There was one: a boy, not a girl, and he was two grades below Katherine. Her father had called the boy's mother and confirmed that Katherine had never been there in her life. He knew Katherine was lying to him, but this week, he had seen more life in Katherine than he had since her mother died. She was happy, and it had something to do with where she was going each night. He didn't think she was getting involved with a bad crowd. She wasn't cutting classes, and her grades were fine; he'd called the school and checked. His hope was Katherine was seeing a boy. Oh God, did he hope that. At least he'd understand the secrecy. He hated that she would keep it secret from him, but he'd understand.

All of this was hidden behind his look of boredom. He was confused, and hurt, and desperate to know what was going on with her.

And tomorrow she would be running away.

"Thanks for letting me stay out so late," she said.

He shrugged. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah. I'm probably going to disappear in my room for the night. I have a little bit of work left."

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"Okay."

She met his gaze again.

Fear.

Fear that she was slipping away from him.

It had been so long since they'd spent time together. Was she outgrowing him? Was she going to disappear one day. He wanted so much to do something with her. Anything. He'd play dolls with her again if she wanted, but she hadn't done that since she was a child.

That memory was strong inside his head. She had been eight, and they'd been playing house. Or doctor. Katherine kept jumping from topic to topic, and he wasn't sure. He was responsible for steering Clifford the Big Red Dog to a car accident to drop off paramedic dolls who were riding him, but Katherine kept telling him he was doing it wrong. He took the dolls off Clifford too soon, or he moved them to the site instead of walking them. With everything he did, she got fussy. He'd lost his temper and snapped at her. It only happened once, but Katherine was done. She never played with dolls again. Logically, he knew she simply outgrew them, but he still blamed himself for ruining it for her. Bit by bit, she became this girl who's interests strayed farther away from him. No more chess. No more games. Even when he went along with things she wanted to do, such as shopping, it felt perfunctory for both of them.

He'd give anything to know what to do.

Katherine did something she hadn't done in ages. She hugged him, and kissed his cheek.

"Goodnight, daddy. I'll see you in the morning."

Immediately, she headed off. She couldn't hold herself together if she stayed any longer.

"Goodnight," he called after her.

In her room, she tossed her backpack against the bed and read her notebooks on witch powers. Now that she knew she could learn them for herself, she studied her notes in a different light. After every section, she'd clear her mind and concentrate on the questions.

What was it like? What's the most you could do? How did you visualize it? She'd hold the answers in her head and see if she could get that same little click that she felt with Alexander's power, but nothing came. Maybe she needed someone to test the powers on. With Alexander, she'd looked him right in the eyes, and it happened. Or did it happen, and that's why she looked him in the eyes? She'd seen her own power through Christof's memories. All week, her power had been shifting and curling about itself as though something were growing inside, but Christof had only seen her when she was around the others.

Maybe that was the secret. Learning a power was both understanding it and being close to the witch. That still left so many unanswered questions. In theory, she could figure it all out tomorrow when when they traveled together, but she knew what was in Alex's head. She saw how skittish they all became after realizing what she was, how quickly they sent her home, how reluctant Josephine was to come inside.

They weren't coming tomorrow morning, she realized. Or if they did come...

That thought nagged at her.

Setting aside her notebook, she crept from her room and down the upstairs hall to her father's bedroom. In his closet on the top shelf was a shoebox. Careful not to topple the other boxes on top of it, she sidled it off the ledge. Inside was a magnum revolver in a nest of tissue paper.

That was when she got scared. By taking this action, she'd changed a silly worry into something real—an acknowledgement that she might actually be in mortal danger. And even if tomorrow came, and they arrived to pick her up for the airport, she can never take back that she kept a gun with her this night because she thought they might decide to kill her. It would always be between her and them.

She took the gun, collected the bullets, and slid the shoebox back where it belonged. Her father didn't realize that she'd always known it was there. Tomorrow she could put it back, and he'd never realize it had gone missing. Hopefully.

In her room, she familiarized herself with the gun. Years ago, her father had taken her to a shooting range. It had been one of his father-daughter bonding attempts. At the time, it was pointlessly dull. Now, it was endearing. She'd go again with him had there been more time.

She tucked the gun under her pillow and returned to her notes, particularly on Josephine's power. Of all the powers, that one was most likely to protect her if... something happened tonight. She read the section front to back and concentrated. It made no difference. With no one to practice upon, she couldn't tell if she was making progress.

And that's when the doorbell rang. She was out of time.

The coven had come for her.