Expecting Asena to actually read the grimoire was like expecting the world to flip upside down. Despite her adorable scrunched nose when she’s angry, she was still a failure when it came to getting her shit together. After I had departed that night, I had observed her flipping through the grimoire in frustration. She had eventually given up and succumbed to crying until she fell asleep.
I eventually was in my room, paintbrush in hand, splattering red paint all over the canvas. I expected the Master to saunter into my room but they were nowhere to be found. Their presence was not in the In Between, which I guessed meant they were “inspiring” the witches. I should’ve cared about that but I found myself enjoying the peace and quiet.
Each shade of red was perfectly blended and carefully laid over the other colors to reflect the violence I felt inside of me–which I’d never admit. I would never openly admit that my paintings, although abstract, were a depiction of my time on the battlefields, both in life…and reaping. I used to say that all battlefields were the same, but since the invention of guns and other explosives I dreaded going to battlefield reaping.
But I would’ve preferred battlefields than convincing Asena Black to put in the effort to save her own life. Her stubborn stance of hands on her hips were all I could think about as I smeared some lighter red onto the canvas. I thought of her star bright eyes and the light dusting of almost-invisible freckles that caressed her cheeks and nose, and soon found myself smearing an ice blue onto the canvas.
It was the first bit of color in a long run of red paintings.
I dropped my brush into my small cup of water and sighed. The witches were going to eat her alive if she did not come around, and that frustrated me more than anything. But I knew that I could only push her so hard before I ended up killing her myself. I knew I was repeating myself. She had to learn, and I had an unfortunate feeling that the Master’s absence would be the kick she would need.
~*~
The following day, as the sun was going down and Asena was walking from her coffee shop home, Rory sprinted up to her. She caught Asena’s arm and spun both of them around as she skidded to a stop. “Asena!” she exclaimed. “Something’s happened! We…” she panted, gulping in air; “we have to run before they can get to us.”
“What do you mean?”
Rory held up a notebook and flipped to a specific page near the back. “There was an emergency meeting called today at the mausoleum. They were saying that the Necromancer has awoken and is using her magic.”
Asena flexed her fingers nervously. “They couldn’t have known about…” she lowered her voice; “this morning, could they?”
“I don’t know and I don’t like the timing of it.”
I decided to make my entrance at that moment. “Did you just say you’ve been practicing?”
Rory hissed in surprise. “You can’t do that when I’m on edge like this!” she hissed through her teeth while clutching her chest.
“I just did a levitation spell,” Asena huffed, unsurprised to see me. “It shouldn’t be big enough for the witches to even notice, so how are we supposed to practice?”
“The witches are expecting the Necromancer to use their power, so don’t worry about that for now because it’s still too weak to trace,” I advised.
“But it won’t be for long,” Rory exclaims, soothing her hands over her thickly braided hair. “All the witches are honed into that energy source and they’re going to figure out it’s not a practiced witch who is using magic.”
“So they’re going to figure out that it’s me,” Asena breathed out in terror.
I stared at the sky, wondering if they had realizedt that the witches would eventually figure out that Asena was the Necromancer. While I understood her concern due to the witches wanting to kill her and all, it took me a moment to compose myself. She has to stay hidden for now, so how do we keep her hidden if she’s giving off energy?
Wards. In this realm, wards worked in many ways but one of the ways they could work was to diffuse magic, making it harder to trace while protecting the caster. So, with the right wards and ideal location, Asena would be safer.
“You need a place with wards,” I told them. “Those will keep her magic from being traced until it's much stronger. Don’t you still have her parents' house? That could work.”
Asena’s face drained of all color. “I can’t go back there yet.”
I looked up at the sky in exasperation again, while Rory replied, “But think about it. It’s private. We wouldn’t have to worry about people walking in and we can manipulate the wards like Death said.”
They started walking towards home, their heads bowed together as they discussed the logistics of moving their practice to the Black family home.
I couldn’t bring myself to follow them. They would figure it out now that the seed had been planted. I needed to figure out how to better help Asena by tracking down what the Master was up to. I knew they could only be in one place– at Twila’s side, spinning lies.
“Nice touch,” The Master greeted me as I appeared in the In Between’s grand library. They were sitting in the chair of the horrid nautical themed living room, lounging in the ugly seafoam couch. “I would’ve done that move where you rip their souls from their body and then slam them back into place.”
“How are your schemes coming?” I asked, ignoring their excitement that I had even used my magic.
“Oh, wonderful as usual. How are yours?”
I responded with a smile while poking a decorated anchor. “Does she actually like this decor or is it meant as a ruse?”
The Master sniffed. “It’s rude to insult the host’s decor.”
“It’s also rude to convince your host to kill their adopted daughter,” I mumbled, knocking a ship in a bottle off its supports. It fell to the ground and shattered.
Both the Master and I looked at the doorway, expecting Twila Grimm to appear like a hurricane. When she didn’t, the Master waved their hand and the ship in the bottle was restored.
“It’s not rude when she’s destined to die anyway.”
I rolled my eyes. “Everyone is destined to die, that's what being mortal is about!”
“Fine, but she needs to ascend sooner than the fates planned,” they replied, nonchalantly. “So naturally, I sweet talked the fates into letting her die sooner.”
I spun around to face them, fists and jaw clenched. “You discussed this with the fates? That’s not what we agreed!” I seethed through my teeth.
“I never said I’d play fair, and besides, they know of your involvement, so it’s fine. You still have a small chance at saving her from the fate the witches have planned for her. Gods, it’s so good. They’re going to sacrifice her in a ceremony that’s meant to summon both of us, but we’ll already be there.” They laughed hysterically at the idea before finally sighing. “Mortals are such fools.”
Finally something we agreed on. “You’re cruel,” I spat at them. “I will stop you this time.”
“Darling, we both know you won’t but it’s so cute when you try.”
“You’re playing with Asena,” I told them; “and that’s enough of a reason for me to beat you.”
The Master raised a pale blonde eyebrow. “You mean the mockery of the girl you loved? The one who deserves nothing but fire and brimstone for how she’s treated you? The girl who walked in and demanded your help instead of asking for it? That girl?”
“Yes. That girl.”
The Master rolled their eyes and stuck out their tongue as if they were gagging. “Raise your standards. I didn’t make you King of the In Between for you to fall for peasants beneath your status.” They started to leave.
I stepped in front of them. “She will come around and go back to being the girl I knew. I know this is just one of your schemes.”
“Not this time, dear,” The Master said, walking around me. “Piece of wisdom for you. Some people have to kill parts of themselves so the rest can live.”
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