Page 42 of Magpie

I do not carry many memories of my youth. The few that trickled back into my mind after leaving Alister are mostly of my years leading up to the House. The further back in my life I try to remember, the muddier it becomes, like wading deep into a swamp.

I do, however, remember my father taking me to the zoo.

I cannot call to mind his features, or any familial bond we may have had, but I remember the animals.

The jaguars in particular. I was young, young enough for everything around me to feel big.

I remember holding his hand as I begged to see the big cats.

He led me to the jaguar exhibit. I excitedly watched the three sleeping beasts, waiting for them to stretch and curl like housecats.

Instead, they slumbered. I began to fidget, pouting about how boring they were, sunbathing on the many branches and rocks that made up their cage.

“Daddy, look,” I said, pressing my face against the mesh wall that blocked the animals from the path.

The jaguars were rousing, their eyes trained on the center of the cage.

I was entranced, watching as their muscles tensed, their limbs moving with the grace of dancers.

I thought they were beautiful, a wondrous, powerful thing. I was completely enthralled.

It wasn’t until a mother screamed at her child not to look that I realized what had woken the slumbering beasts.

A stray cat had somehow made its way into the animals’ cage.

It was a hissing and spitting ball of panic as the jaguars closed in.

I was frozen, my childlike mind unable to see the very near future, unable to understand the death waiting in the predators’ gazes.

My father realized too late what was happening, and before he could pull me away, a jaguar pounced, and then all I could see was claws, and teeth, and hunger.

The ravenous look in the jaguars’ eyes is mirrored in Alister’s, the same predatory need to devour etched into every line of his face.

He leans against the door, sticking his hands casually in his pockets as he once again traces his eyes over every inch of my exposed skin.

The sky is still dark, the sun hours from rising.

The ritual will be going on for some time.

It’s unusual for him to abandon the performance before the ending.

But tonight is an unusual night.

He pushes off the door, taking one slow step forward. Just one. He is testing the distance between us, testing to see if I will bolt. It takes all my strength to stay rigid, smiling pleasantly back at him.

The jaguar sizes up its prey. My plan, feeble as it may be, requires him much closer than this, and before he can make another move, I rush forward and throw my arms around him. Standing as tall as I can, I guide his face to mine and kiss him.

He instantly rears back, shock and perhaps fear of me giving him pause.

He peers down at me, scrutinizing my docile expression.

I press myself closer to him, looking up at him meekly through my lashes, and he gives me that crescent-moon smile.

The one that has haunted my dreams since the moment I left.

His arms twine around me, binding and tight.

His touch is strong, and far too greedy, trying to pull me closer, press me into him.

His lips are on mine in a second, and that grave-cold sensation splinters out of him, trying to worm its way into me.

Before the numbing fissures can break through my steel wall of defiance, I break the kiss, pulling back. He doesn’t let me get far, caging me in his arms.

“You returned to me,” he says. I hate the way he speaks of me like I’m an object, nothing more than the wrought iron key stored inside his heart. How little my life ever meant to him outside of fueling his endless flame.

I nod at him, trying to not scowl. Some hint of my true feelings must betray me, because his eyes narrow, suspicion clear on his face as he studies me. Before he can speak, I fall into him, burying my head in his chest, listening for the heartbeat I know isn’t there.

“I came back,” I say, because I may have returned, but I certainly didn’t return to him.

He pushes away from me, taking a step back, eyeing me with cold judgment, and my heart sinks. My plan is failing spectacularly.

“You’ve been quite a disobedient little brat, Magpie,” he snaps, his grin replaced with a grimace, his voice dripping with indignation.

His tone is sardonic, painting my efforts to dig my key out of the cavern of his chest as nothing more than a childish tantrum.

Like my escape means nothing, my efforts completely pointless.

I resist the urge to rip his shirt open and expose the scar I suspect is covering his chest, proof that my fight made its mark.

I drop my head in false shame. My hair falls over my shoulders, covering my face. Undeterred by my mock contrition, he grips my chin, roughly forcing my head up to meet his eyes. Real shock and fear rise in me as I realize how wildly out of control of the situation I am.

“I was…lost,” I say, fumbling for an excuse.

“You were willful, selfish, and impudent,” he snaps, letting my chin go and storming away from me.

“I know. I am sorry, Alister.” I move to stand behind him and wrap my arms around him.

He pulls away from my touch, spinning on me suddenly.

Grabbing my shoulders, he pushes me back and slams me against the wall.

He pins me there with one arm pressed against my chest, the other hand around my throat, tilting my head back to look at him.

“Do you think I’m a fucking fool ?” he hisses, his grip on my throat tightening. His face is contorted with rage. “Do you think I can be tricked by a bawdy display of flesh and fake smiles?”

He moves the hand around my neck, roughly grabbing my breast and squeezing tightly. I bite my lip to keep from crying out.

“You think displaying yourself like a vulgar feast will erase what you did to me?”

I cast my eyes to the side, unable to hold his deranged gaze.

That only serves to enrage him. He slams his fist against the wall by my head, the glass splintering on impact as he bellows, “Look at me!”

Taking a steadying breath, I slowly turn my face back to his and shed the mask of complacency and adoration.

Getting him to drop his guard through false contrition isn’t working, and I’m more than happy to show my true colors.

I pour every ounce of hatred I have into my eyes, every last drop of disdain.

He grins at me, a wolfish, devilish smile. “There she is,” he says, stroking my cheek with one of those damned white gloves. I squirm away from his touch, and he chuckles at the motion, before his laugh is abruptly cut off as he pulls me forward by my throat and slams me back against the wall.

I grunt, my head cracking hard against the glass, but I have no time to focus on the pain as he squeezes my throat again. Tighter and tighter, only allowing the barest trickle of air in.

“Do you even realize what you did by leaving me?” he hisses. “You nearly ended this. All of this.”

I grab his wrists, trying to pull his hands off my neck, but my attempts are useless, my arms growing weak as my vision blurs. Just when I am sure I’m going to pass out, he releases me, and I fall to my knees, coughing and gasping for air.

Alister takes several steps back. He yanks his jacket off and tosses it to the ground. I’m still trying to pull in ragged, unsteady breaths as I massage my aching throat. Alister is rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he paces before me, his eyes harsh as they pin me in place.

“You made me a promise that you would stay locked in this house, and never test the bars of that cage,” Alister says, turning and walking to a shelf on the far side of the room.

Like the ones in his bedroom, this shelf is full of various crystals, books, jars, and vials, any number of things that Alister uses in his work.

I cannot let him use any spells on me. Pressing my palms flat on the ground, I begin to push myself up, to stand, when I stop.

My palms are stuck on the ground.

No, no, no, no, no .

I tug at my hands, yank at them, biting my lip so hard to keep from shrieking that I feel a sharp prick of pain and blood begins to dribble down my chin.

I thrash and struggle as much as I can, and all I result in doing is knocking over one of the telescopes.

It rolls gently behind me, clinking against the glass.

I whip my head up, looking at Alister as he busies himself at his shelf.

“Let me guess—you’re here to avenge your dead love?” he calls over his shoulder as he pulls various glass jars off the shelf. “Your plan was to, what, seduce me? Wait until I’m asleep and try to stab my heart again?”

“That would be a fairly pointless plan, considering you’re goddamn heartless,” I snap, pulling uselessly at my palms, which remain firmly stuck to the floor.

Alister turns, giving me a bored look. “Was that supposed to hurt my feelings? Really, Magpie, I expected better from you.” He shakes his head as he stirs a series of powders and herbs into a mortar, grinding it down with a pestle.

I let out a huff but stop trying to pull my palms up.

I know it’s useless. Only he can release me.

“What are you going to do to me?” I snap. “What punishment fits the crime of trying to escape a psychopath?”

He flicks his eyes up to me, annoyance flashing across his face, before he continues grinding the paste.

He adds in a few drops of oil and a length of bright red string.

The sight of it sends my heart racing. “I’m going to make you keep your word, Magpie,” he says, setting the pestle aside.

He picks up the mortar and begins creeping slowly back toward me.

I don’t take my eyes off him, but I can’t help trying to scoot back as far as my cemented hands will let me.

Alister barely even glances at me as he swirls his fingers in the mortar.

Once they are covered in the deep gray paste, he leans down and draws runes and symbols in a semicircle around me.

From one side of the wall to the other, he traces a line of smeared etchings in a half-moon, encompassing me entirely.

He stands up, admiring his handiwork before he looks at me with hatred in his eyes and a sneer on his face.

“A pretty cage for a pretty bird.”

All at once, I find I can lift my hands off the floor. I spring up, rushing forward to attack him. I don’t care that I don’t have a plan, I don’t care that he’s stronger than me, I don’t care that—

My chin cracks forcefully against the air in front of my face and sends me rocking back like I’ve been punched. I stumble until I hit the glass wall behind me.

What the fuck?

Alister is standing a few feet in front of me, his hands in his pockets, observing me like I’m an animal in a cage.

My eyes slowly trail down to the marks on the floor, tracing a half-circle around me and the glass wall.

I step forward, my hand outstretched in front of me, until I hit something solid.

Like an invisible wall is in front of me.

I slam both of my hands against it, beginning to panic as I search up and down the semicircle, looking for a hole, a chink in the armor. There are none to be found.

Alister steps forward, reaching easily through the transparent barrier and stroking my cheek. I slap his hand away, backing up until I am splayed against the wall.

He continues to grin, crossing the boundary easily, the invisible cage doing nothing to stop him.

He draws close until he is all but pressed against me.

He grips my face in his hands, pressing his head to my neck and inhaling deeply.

I’m repulsed, desperate to run from his touch, knowing there is nowhere I can go to get away from him.

A single tear escapes my eye, trailing a lonely journey down my face.

“As much as I am relishing the river of dread you’re drowning in, there is still a ritual to attend to.

Don’t worry, I won’t be gone long,” he croons, rubbing his nose up and down my neck as I try not to gag.

He pulls back, giving my cheek a few pats.

“Do be a dear and wait up. We have so much lost time to catch up on.”

Just like that, he turns and saunters out of the room, the door snicking shut and the lock clicking into place behind him.

I wait until I can no longer hear his boots echoing down the attic stairs before sinking to the ground, burying my head in my knees, and screaming.

Trapped. Caged.

I will never be free again.

I press my hands over my ears, as if I can push the panicked cries from my mind. I should never have come back, should never have assumed I was strong enough to defeat Alister. I let Ronan fill me with false hope, let the luna key guide me down a dark path to my doom—

The luna key .

Slowly, I take my hands off my ears and open my tightly shut eyes. Peering around the room, I find my backpack sitting across from me on the floor. There is no way I can reach it, not from inside this barrier. But Alister crossed the seal. Maybe…maybe something else can, too.

I turn and spy the telescope I dislodged in my attempt to free my hands from the floor. Wasting no time, I grab it and extend it to its full length. Stepping to the edge of the barrier, I hold my breath as I press the telescope through.

It passes over the gray etchings easily, and I almost cry out in relief.

Holding the telescope tight, I reach it out as far out as I’m able.

It’s heavy, awkward, and entirely unwieldy.

I’m sweating by the time I finally land the end on the strap of my backpack.

I then begin the agonizingly slow process of trying to drag it toward me.

My arms are shaking with the effort, my heart hammering away in my chest. I don’t know how much longer the ritual will last, and I can’t risk Alister having any interest in the contents of my backpack.

I hold my breath for the last few inches, not daring to believe this has worked until the bag is fully inside the barrier.

I don’t spare a single moment to celebrate.

I’m far from victory. Dropping to my knees, I hastily unzip my backpack and yank it open.

It takes a moment to locate the key, which has traveled to the bottom.

It remains dormant, emitting no light, but still, I grab it and hold it tight.

The light might have abandoned me, but I am no stranger to the dark.

Alister claimed I nearly destroyed this place by taking my key, and I have been unable to let that thought go. I sit back against the glass wall, holding the luna key to my chest as I watch the door, waiting for his return. Trapped between walls of glass and power, I have nothing to do but think.

And plan.