Page 33 of Magpie

T he silk blanket rustles as I settle into a more comfortable position. My legs are crossed underneath me, the hem of the short shift dress Alister prefers me in riding high on my thighs. I start to tug it down, trying to cover myself, but Alister snaps, “Leave it.”

I let go of the hem, leaving it where it is, exposing the entirety of my legs.

Alister is seated in front of me on the large bed in his bedroom.

We face each other, close enough that our knees are touching.

He studies me as I slowly move my hands until they are palm up on my knees, exactly as he has instructed me countless times before.

He leans forward, passing a gloved hand over my face, and my eyes drift shut.

I am getting surprisingly good at falling into the rhythm of our lessons, considering I hardly remember them.

I focus on my breath, letting go of the feel of myself.

The quiet crackling of the fireplace drifts from my mind as I fall easily into the trance.

All that remains is the sound of our breathing, perfectly in time with each other.

“Look inside yourself, and find the keyhole,” he says, the same instruction he gives me every time.

I can remember these moments, the steady breathing and the calming of my mind.

I just can’t seem to remember what happens after.

After he consumes it, like Sean told me.

A small smile tugs at my lips at the thought of Sean.

I’m not even aware until Alister’s cold voice snaps, “Focus, Magpie.”

I wipe the smile off my face and settle back into myself.

I let out a breath, letting myself drift.

He has been training me over the last several months, showing me how to cultivate the power he senses in me.

He never alludes to what that power is, what I am achieving, no matter how many times I press him after our lessons, when the experience has fully faded from my mind.

Leaving behind nothing but a foreboding feeling that I have done something wrong .

I shut that out of my mind, falling into the obsidian world and out of the feel of myself entirely.

He guides me through the ethereal plane, a space where I am perfectly content to just drift.

Even though I feel formless in this void, he is somehow able to manipulate me.

To hold me, tug me, push me as though we are seeking something.

“This would be easier if I knew what I was looking for,” I say, my voice sounding distant and detached. It echoes in the void, wailing softly around me.

“Focus,” Alister growls, the reprimand sharp, leaving no room for questions. My voice might be ephemeral, but his is loud and clear. I flinch at the harshness in his tone, always nervous about when his anger will turn to action.

I’m no stranger to his whirlwind emotions, and I’m becoming very good at sensing when his annoyance is about to boil over into fury.

That is normally when I find an excuse to escape, to hide in Sean’s room until Alister calms down.

It does not always work in my favor, however, and Alister is not always willing to let me leave his sight.

When one of the rituals surrounding Samhain did not go to his liking, he locked me in his bedroom for weeks as punishment, although for the life of me I couldn’t determine how it was my fault that it hadn’t worked.

“Center yourself,” Alister says, his voice filling not just my ears but my mind.

I spin and turn in the darkness, casting my mind’s eye about.

I don’t see it as much as I feel it, and I zero in on the sensation.

“There…” I breathe, and I get the vague feeling of Alister’s hands gripping mine, anchoring me to him.

I am prepared for it, so I don’t let the motion pull me out of this space.

If I lose the connection now, he will not be pleased.

Gritting my teeth, I push the feel of the waking world from my mind, centering myself, focusing on the sensation calling to me.

Alister smiles. I can’t see it, but I can feel it, and it makes a pit open in my stomach.

“Follow it, and tell me everything you see,” he whispers, sounding closer to me than my own thoughts.

I can hear the giddy anticipation building in his voice, and I imagine he is squeezing my hands tightly, though I ignore the feeling entirely.

“I see a pale gray orb—no, wait, it’s a moth,” I say, the light shifting and growing. I squint against it until the fluttering moth takes shape before me, and I can see the scene clearly. “There’s a man. An older man.”

As I say it, the memories, the stories, the sense of self pool into me, and I settle into a deeper understanding of the man.

I watch the memories playing before my eyes, grinning at the simplicity of his life.

A farmer by trade and family tradition, he has dedicated his life to tending the earth.

He married young, loved fiercely, and lost her tragically just a few years later.

He never took another wife, knowing his heart was forever with her.

Having no children of his own, he dotes on his sole niece.

Before I can get lost fully in the labyrinth of his life, Alister’s sharp voice pulls me back to him.

“Keep going, Magpie. Tell me more.” There is an odd hunger in his voice, and I feel the first seed of fear beginning to take root inside of me.

I don’t want to tell him more; I get the strangest feeling that I should keep these things to myself.

But Alister does not give me choices. He gives me commands.

He is my master, and I know only too well what happens when I don’t obey.

“He is surrounded by family, a brother and sister-in-law. Ginger, his niece, is holding a child.” I smile brightly.

“It’s her child. He feels like a grandfather, a quiet thought he doesn’t share with anyone else.

There is so much laughter, so many people bustling in and out, and a deep sense of belonging.

I think it might be a party.” I smile wider at the feeling of joy and connection that radiates off the man.

“Very good, Magpie. Keep going. Keep telling me everything.” Alister’s praise sounds strange in my ears.

It’s dripping with something sinister, something lethal.

I feel a great energy swelling around me, filling me, and I’m frightened of it.

I want to claw the feeling out, want to scrub myself raw until no trace of it remains on my skin.

But I know it is only in my mind, and the only way to rid myself of it is to give it to Alister.

At least, that’s what he keeps telling me.

“Ginger is called into another room, and he begs to take the child. He loves holding the baby, loves any second he can spend with her. He’s turning, bouncing the baby on his hip, as he walks the length of the room.” I laugh, a simple, joyous sound, as the babe in his arms begins to giggle.

The laugh is cut short, becoming a strangled scream as I move to slap a hand over my mouth.

Alister holds me firm, his grip vise-like as he hisses, “Don’t stop, Magpie. Tell me what is happening.”

My lips might move, my voice might speak, but I am entirely unaware.

I am focused only on the scene in front of me.

On the toy train the man trips over, on the sharp edge of the fireplace mantel.

I hear, I see, I feel when his head cracks into the side of it.

The pain is blinding, nearly knocking me back, but Alister continues to hold me tight, anchoring me to the nightmare.

I am no longer in my body. I’m in his. I try to hold on, try to cradle the child to me as I fall, but the splitting pain in my head sends me reeling.

As I crash to the floor, the child spills out of my arms. I hit the ground hard, falling on top of a small bundle, and I lose a true sense of understanding for several dark moments.

People cry out, but above it all I hear Ginger’s screams. I am rolled over, that bundle pulled out from under me.

I must have fallen on it. It’s hard to see through the blood and the disorientation, but when I focus, I wish I hadn’t.

Because Ginger is there, holding an unmoving bundle in her arms, and I know it to be her child.

My grandchild, the only one I will ever get to cherish, lifeless in her mother’s arms.

I am screaming, begging for Alister to help me, to pull me from this scene, but I am left entirely alone in the nightmare.

The family is in chaos, screams and cries filling my mind.

Ginger won’t stop crying, gut-wrenching wails, and I know that even when she eventually stops, that sound will forever live in her soul.

Marring it, ripping it, ruining it. I pray for death, pray for a release from the horror of this reality.

Death does not answer me.

The scene before me fades, my eyes fluttering open.

I’m seated once more on Alister’s bed, my dress bunched around the tops of my thighs.

My ears are ringing, even though there is no cacophony of wails and cries surrounding me in the gentle quiet of Alister’s room.

My cheeks are wet, rivulets of tears running from my wide eyes.

I’m staring at my hands, held tightly in Alister’s grip, my mouth hanging open in its own silent scream.

I’m frozen, in a complete state of shock. I felt the child die. I felt her soul leave her body. My mind is reeling, trying to tell me what I experienced can’t possibly be real. Because…because it felt like I made that happen.

Alister tugs my hands, pulling me toward him, wrapping me in his warm embrace. The heat of it doesn’t reach me. I am a limp ragdoll in his arms, and the way he isn’t fazed by my catatonic state lets me know this is not the first time I have reacted like this.

“Did…” I swallow hard against the dryness in my mouth, the tightness in my throat. “Did I make that happen?”

How many people have I killed?

Alister lifts my face to his, kissing me deeply. Again, that warmth spreads through me at his touch. Again, I don’t feel a single sparking ember of it.

“Of course not, my darling,” he says, stroking my face.

He cradles me in his lap, and I can’t help but imagine the man cradling the child in his arms. I begin to shiver, curling in on myself.

“You were merely there to witness the journey, nothing more.” His hand combs through my hair, a soothing gesture that does nothing to help me.

“I don’t know if I can do that again,” I gasp, feeling a sob catching in my throat. “I don’t want to be a witness on those journeys. They’re not mine.” As I speak the words, I know they’re true.

Alister’s firm hand grips my chin, yanking my head up forcefully and snaring me in his hard gaze. “You’re right, Magpie. They don’t belong to you. They are mine . Now give them to me.”

He forces his lips onto mine, and for the first time since waking up in this house, I am revolted by him. I don’t crave his taste, his touch, his warmth. None of it is helping me now, and I’m beginning to wonder if it ever did.

I feel something yanked out of me, pulled so powerfully that a sharp cry escapes my lips.

Alister shoves me away from him, and I scramble back, only too happy to have space between us.

He’s already standing, his back to me as he storms from the room.

I know he will shut himself away in his study and disappear into his work.

I am forgotten entirely, my usefulness spent. For now.

I pick myself up, standing on shaking legs. I stay standing in the middle of his room for a long while, my wide eyes staring at nothing, seeing only the piece of paper that Sean burned to cinders as true understanding dawns on me.

I am not a burst of energy added to Alister’s flame. I am not joining in the power, in the endless warmth and light.

I am nothing but kindling, and I’m not sure how much longer I can stand to burn.