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Chapter 11

“What the heck happened to you?”

Gwen blinked, and checked herself in the ballroom mirror. Her face was covered in small cuts, and there was a large welt just above her eye where one of the tree branches had smacked her.

“Hunh,” Gwen said. “A tree ran into me.”

“Don’t you mean you ran into…”

“No I do not,” Gwen said. She stalked forward into the room, sulking. After that fight with Doramont and his flower friends, she wanted to take a bath and a nap. But more than that, she wanted to hang out with Indearie, even for just a second.

“So, um,” Gwen said. She scuffed her foot. “How have you been doing?”

“Good!” Indearie said. “I mean, well, the ballroom has been a great place for me to get everything sorted out for myself, see?”

Gwen did. Her friend had managed to make the entire area shine. And given the nature of the place, it was an impressive feat. Two stories of solid marble and gold filigree. Great windows broken up by portraits of former dukes and duchesses. All leading towards the back of the South Wing, which held a grand stairwell leading up further into the mansion.

This was the place. Gwen could feel it. This was the showroom of the entire Everwynn named. If you were anyone, if you were someone who belonged, this was where the family would send you to be dazzled. Because this, was elegance.

And the duke had put Indearie in charge of all of its maintenance. She had always wanted to dance, and be known for it. But did he know how much this would mean for her? To actually be here?

“Here, check this out,” Indearie said. She pulled Gwen to the dance floor. The dancer turned, and nodded. A man Gwen had not seen before struck up a violin, and began to play. A lilting waltz, one that turned in the higher octaves in a bittersweet melody.

Indearie hummed along, tapping her foot. “And one, two, three. One two three.” She danced forward and back, twirling around Gwen.

Gwen smiled, spinning around. Indearie used to do this all the time back around the city. They found one of the fountains or statues. Pay a local up-and-coming musician for lunch, and there was accompaniment. Indearie could make enough in a couple hours for the both of them to get by.

But more than that, she looked most alive when she was dancing. It wasn’t just from the smile on her face. Sometimes when she moved, it seemed almost painful. Her face was tightened, lips pulled shut. Shed close her eyes as her feet blurred across the floor.

The violin struck a chord, and started to get faster. It melded from a waltz to a jig, and Indearie matched her steps to it. Heel to toe, stamping down. She barked out a bit of laughter as she jumped into another hard pirouette.

Indearie danced not just because she found joy in it. She moved because to do otherwise would be a slow and boring death. To not be able to move, would be the same as not being able to breathe.

Her foot slammed to the ground. Sparks flew up around it.

Gwen’s eyes widened. What? What just happened?

She did it again. A hard slam to the floor, and a bolt burst out of her.

“Indearie!” Gwen shouted.

Her friend kept dancing. Lines of energy coursed around her, pulsing with the beat of her movements. Faster and faster, lightning flashing out of her towards the chandeliers and gold frames. The candle lit room flared with light, and then cast back into darkness just as quickly.

Gwen rushed forward, and grabbed her hand. “Stop!”

Lightning coursed through Indearie’s body, and struck Gwen. She flew backward, flipping end of end. She hit the marble tile and skidded across the floor, landing on her face with a thud against the bottom stair.

Indearie turned. Her eyes widened, and she ran over. “Gwen! Gwen!” she cried. She slid to the ground, stopping right in front of her friend.

“Oh, gods,” she said. “I’m so sorry. Sorry sorry sorry.”

Gwen groaned, and rolled over. “Damn it,” she muttered. “That’s what I get for trying to mess with someone else’s magic.”

“Magic?” Indearie said. “Don’t be silly. I can’t do magic.”

Gwen held up her hand. It smoked, black soot trailing down her fingertips. “Really?”

Indearie stared. She held up the hand. Gwen felt another tingle, and pulled away. “You’re still…sparking,” Gwen said.

Indearie reddened. The energy around her started to subside. “I, I don’t know how to stop,” she said.

Sparks continued to fly off of her body, even if they were a little more subdued. But how did it start?

Gwen looked at her, trying to figure it out. What made this different? How had Indearie accidentally cracked the code on magic?

Then it clicked.

“Rosamund has been helping you out, hasn’t she?” Gwen asked.

“What? No! no.” even as she said it, her eyes gave it away.

Gwen stood up, and walked out.

“What was this, a pity party?” Gwen demanded. “I can’t do magic, so my best friend has to try and trick me into feeling better for myself?”

“No! That’s not it at all. I figured if you could just see what I did…”

But Gwen was already gone. She ran out of the room, tears in her eyes.

“Gwen!”

She wasn’t even good enough for her friend anymore. Everyone was looking at the dumb little girl who couldn’t figure out magic. But it wasn’t her fault this time. Drake had tricked her. Doramont had almost killed her. And Rosamund, Rosamund must be laughing this up herself.

Gwen found her way to West Wing, and was banging on Rosamund’s door. Her hand slammed against the wood, denting the pink coloring.

“Rosamund!” Gwen shouted. She kicked the door, denting it. Her foot cried out in pain, but she ignored the sensation. “Get out here!”

The door opened. Rosamund stood in the door. “What do you want?”

Later, when Gwen could properly think, she’d think about the look. That stare from Rosamund, that seemed to just gaze right past her. She didn’t even see her, didn’t acknowledge she was worth anything.

That was what set her off. That’s what made her start fighting.

Gwen slammed her fist into Rosamund’s stomach. The older girl coughed, the wind knocked out of her. Gwen followed it up with another kick, and was ready to strike again when Rosamund tackled her to the floor.

“Is that what you want?!?” Rosamund shouted. “Is that what’s it gonna take to get you to leave?”

“Screw you!” Gwen screamed. “You’re taking everything from me!”

They pummeled each other bloody. Fists flew, hair pulled. All the rage that Gwen had building up inside her exploded out now. She finally had someone here who she could really take everything out on, and it felt good.

However, Rosamund was bigger than her. She could take more blows, and her strikes hurt a lot more. Worse still, she had magic.

Her hand grasped around Gwen’s arm. The hand turned red, and started to smoke. Gwen screamed. Her arm was burning!

“That’s right!” Rosamund said. “I’m smarter than you. Stronger than you. And I have my magic.”

She twisted her grip, slamming Gwen to the ground. Rosamund knelt on her back, driving her knee into Gwen.

“I’m just better than you.”

Rosamund leaned closer. “I thought we had this already figured out. You were supposed to be gone. Just because Everwynn got hurt, you decided to finally grow a spine?”

“Geroffme,” Gwen mumbled into the hardwood.

“You’re going to leave,” Rosamund said. “For good this time. And you’re never going to bother me, or I’ll make sure you never get a moment’s rest.”

Gwen fumed, trying to struggle. The knee was pressing down, threatening to crack a rib. She was finding it difficult to breathe.

“No one here likes you. Indearie only spends time with you because of some old friendship. When you’re gone, she’ll cry for a day and then get over it because she has real friends now. She has a life, a future here, and you’re just getting in the way.”

Tears streamed down Gwen’s face.

“You’re nothing but a piece of gutter trash that doesn’t even have the grace to be thrown away properly. You are nothing.”

Rosamund laughed. “No wonder you’re an orphan. Your own parents couldn’t stand the sight of you.”

That did it. Gwen wrenched her head to the right, and bit down on Rosamund’s hand.

“OOWWW!” Rosamund shouted. “Get off!”

Flames flared up in Gwen’s mouth. She winced, but kept her jaw clamped. Blood poured out of her mouth, her own and Rosamund’s. Her enemy tried to get her off by wriggling, but it was no use.

This was how it worked in Gwen’s old world. There were scraps. Quick battles to decide ownership of items, living quarters, a boy or girl they liked. Those were over quick, and had established, unwritten rules of conduct.

But when real violence was raged, when someone threatened your life or existence, then there were no rules. Those who weren’t willing to do anything were killed or left in a similar state. Rosamund’s old life may have been criminal, it may have been hard. But it was obvious that she was not used to this kind of survivalism.

In that second, they both knew who would win.

Rosamund rolled off, and Gwen released. The older girl cradled her injured hand, tears streaming down her face.

Gwen spat. Blood and ashes poured out. Fire magic, right in the mouth. That was going to hurt for a month.

“You almost bit half my hand off,” Rosamund breathed. She glared at Gwen. “What kind of freak are you?”

Gwen shrugged, and stood up. “A freak who’s here to stay,” she muttered.

“All of you hate me. You stole Indearie from me. The world would be better if I just dropped dead. Fine. I’ll live with that. Guess I have to.”

She pointed at Rosamund, who flinched away. “But mess with me again. You, or Drake or Doramont or anyone else, and I’ll end you. You understand?”

Rosamund looked away. Gwen dashed forward, and grabbed her chin, wrenching her head around. Rosamund cried, flinching away.

“Say you understand!”

“I understand! I understand!”

Gwen nodded. “You better.”

She walked away. Picked up her clothes and everything else from her room, and moved out to a corner on the fourth floor. She did it quickly, before Indearie had a chance to see her do it. Far away from anyone else.

Gwen was unpacked, with a locked door between her and the world, and under the covers before she let herself cry into oblivion.

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Dead by the Book

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I didn't ask for a destiny.

Especially one that says that I'm supposed to destroy every god in existence.

It made the name William Creed a curse. Made me turn tail and run from the only home I knew. Left my friend, my favorite ghost, and hoped that the gods would just forget about me.

But now I'm back. Chasing the one good paycheck I've seen in years. Chasing some kid who's in way over his head, searching for a book that could break reality.

I'll have to take on dragons, the undead, a whole cosmos of deities, and my own mother.

Welcome to God Street. Where miracles become realities.

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