Rebel Academy: Crave

Chapter Eighteen FOX

I shook, abandoned on the stage in the center of the Memory Theater. A spotlight rooted me in place like all my faults were lit up. I wrapped my arms around my middle. They’d need a brighter light. Then I squinted up at the tiered seats that were hidden in shadow.

The Princes sat on black seats and the Immortals on pink like it was a chessboard. I smirked. It’d be epic if the truth of this theater was that I’d been chosen to play real life Wizard’s Chess with a twist: I’d love to see Lysander’s expression when Magenta’s magic mist swept him off the board because no way would he ever get to be King in my game.

Why did I have the feeling that witches wouldn’t put a mage in charge of picking up litter, let alone their precious Princes?

I sighed because okay, that’d been a pleasant way to stop the terror from reducing me to as much of a pooping Rebel as Mr Fierce in front of the rest of the students. The theater was thick with the scent of burning sage. My magic prickled with the power held within this room: it was oppressive, suffocating, and dark.

It wanted to swallow me whole.

I shivered with unease, tipping back my head. Words swirled in and out of focus on the ceiling like they were rising to the surface of a rippling pool:

I grimaced, closing my eyes.

More of Damelza’s motivational mottoes — brilliant.

I’d already shared enough to feel like the tips of my ears would never stop burning after the Punish and Reward Game in Divination class. I’d expected something dastardly from Lysander like the Itching Powder Pants Hex.

My ass had already been squirming in anticipation.

Instead, Lysander had scrutinized me in a way that’d made my dick and balls join in the squirming. “I choose Punish.”

“Shocker,” Sleipnir had muttered.

“So, what’s it to be?” Swinging upside down, I’d grinned crookedly. “Public execution of our social media accounts? Goodbye Instagram, farewell sweet Facebook, and so long Tinder…”

Bask had snickered.

“You possess those?” Lysander had blinked.

“If you define possess as in…do I have access to a computer, Internet, or any social media…then that’d be a nope. Oh look, then the punishment’s already carried out. Good job.”

Lysander had snorted. “Excellent try.” His gaze had slid to Magenta, who’d boldly met it. “Do you not think that we should get to know each other? My order is simple: each answer the same question.”

Magenta had nodded.

Lysander’s smile had been sharp. “Are you a virgin?”

“Why? Are you looking for a virgin sacrifice?” Magenta had snapped.

Perhaps, he’d expected to shame us. The first answer on my tongue had been: Of course not, I’m the legendary mage lover of the House of Jewels: The Wizard Lothario, surely you’ve heard of me? But then, the spell had kicked in, and I’d been forced to tell the truth.

Lysander’s eyes had widened at my shy nod. The tips of my ears had reddened.

Yet Sleipnir had stretched his arms behind his head with a cocky grin. “I’m the son of Loki. Hel’s tits, no.”

Bask had winked, sliding his hand down to circle his dick through his pants. His eyes had been half-lidded. “You think this much sexiness hasn’t been petted?” His grin had been sly. “Don’t you want to see if you could keep up?”

Lysander had flushed. Hadn’t he learned yet that sometimes you lost, when you thought that you’d won?

“What an impertinent question.” Magenta had tossed her hair. “My virtue is intact as befits my unmarried station, but worry not, I intend to change that soon. I have lovers now who I wish to ravish.” She’d caught Lysander’s gaze, and he’d shivered. I’d already been lost on the whole ravishing part of that. After all, I was the legendary mage lover, why wouldn’t she want to ravish my curly-haired cuteness? See, I could still lie to myself within the spell. “I’m intrigued by your interest. Were you hoping to deflower us and add us to your list of conquests? Or perhaps, you lie awake at night, fretting that you’re the lone virgin in this academy?”

Lysander had stormed out with his haughty nose in the air.

I’d bet my prickles and whiffling nose that despite the bluster, Lysander was as innocent as me.

Yet now, caught in the spotlight, I would have to share a part of myself again and this time, I wouldn’t have the other Immortals backing me up. It’d been brilliant to turn the tables with them at my side, but alone on the stage, I didn’t know if I had the strength to pull off the same trick.

In a flurry of feathers, Damelza appeared, and my eyes snapped open. Her silver blonde hair reflected the light, and her dress swept across the floor, as she prowled towards me.

I shuffled my feet, unable to move.

Do not poop, do not poop, do not…

With a flick of her hand, feathered straps bound each of the Rebels into their seats like the theater was a fairground ride. Wow, it’d be brilliant if it was because I’d never been to the fair. Except, I had the feeling that I was the ride.

“What a surprise that the criminally inclined mage is the first to visit my theater.” Damelza’s lips pinched, and my dick shriveled. “I tried to help your mother with your discipline as a child. I always knew that you’d turn out to need a firm hand, although I never guessed that my poor friend would have two sons with magic. I wonder if she was cursed.”

My hands clenched into fists. “I missed you and your inspiring speeches. Where’s the suggestion box? I have a few complaints…well, suggestions for improvement…about my induction.”

Someone snickered from the theater seats. I’d bet that it was Bask.

“I’m so sorry.” Damelza’s eyes glittered. “Write down your complaints and hand them to Professor Bacchus.”

“Really?”

“If you want to be transfigured into a footstool.”

I bit my lip. “Tempting because she wears epic boots, and I have this kinky thing for them, but Pan knows that enough witches have already trodden on me in my life, so I’ll pass.”

Damelza fiddled with the feather at her ear, and I couldn’t help the flinch because the last time that she’d touched the feather, she’d thrown it at me. I had that effect on witches. “Why don’t you share your trauma with the rest of the class but not the kinky part because do you know what witches hate listening to the most?”

I cocked my head. “The Wizard of Oz soundtrack?”

Damelza’s cheek twitched. “Boastful mages.” Damn my prickles, that was me screwed. “The most delightful thing about my Memory Theater is that the Rebel doesn’t need to speak. The spell will show the truth, and every student here will relive the memory alongside you.”

I bit my tongue so hard that I yelped. When did I let others see the truth? It’d taken years of dedication to build up my walls of lies and I liked it that way, cheers.

Okay, Sleipnir and Bask had glimpsed some of the truth because of the Blood Amulet, but the secrets of their own dark pasts blasted through me in angsty rock, and they didn’t pry. A guy appreciated that. But Magenta was my first kiss; she was the woman who’d brought me to life. She also didn’t act like it but she was a witch. Would she truly want me when she saw that I was the monster of the House of Jewels?

“Shall we?” Damelza said like she was inviting me to a dance, rather than the violation of my mind. “I’ve never explored a mage’s head before, so I’m hoping for the best but expecting the depraved worst.”

All of a sudden, Louis Armstrong’s gravelly voice boomed through the theater backed by the joyful flute and trumpet of “It’s a Wonderful World.”

My eyes widened. Damelza couldn’t have picked this on purpose, right? She had a sick sense of humor because it drove me back to a spring day that I was desperate not to remember, when I’d lost all hope that I’d ever be rescued from the attic.

Damelza gripped my shoulders, spinning me to face the back wall of the theater. A kaleidoscope of images was projected onto it. They flashed like a thousand home movies that’d been ripped apart and then jaggedly sewn together from fae, vampires, and gods.

Paws save me, they must be the memories of every student who’d faced this trial.

That was it, stop this ride, I wanted to get off, and probably hurl as well. It turned out that I hated the fair.

My stomach roiled. I clutched my sweating palms tightly under my armpits. I recoiled, but Damelza held me in place.

No escape, no escape, no…

The jazz played on loop. There was no way out. There never had been. From the moment that I’d been locked away in the warded attic because my magic had come in, I’d been trapped forever.

If we lost the Rebel Cup, I’d die because of it.

Because mages were monsters.

My breath became ragged, and the images spun faster and faster.

I couldn’t go back to the attic…

In my terror, I transformed into a Birman cat. I tumbled out of Magenta’s hold onto the floor with a pained yowl. My creamy fur fluffed up and my long, crooked tail whipped back and forth in distress. A collective aww of cooing burst from the audience, but I was lost in my fear. I darted to the corner, cowering.

The music was even louder to my sensitive ears, and the sage burned my nose. I stared up at the giant witch who stalked towards me, before hissing. When her hand lowered towards me, and she clucked impatiently, my fur bristled.

Where was the treat, feathery plaything, or stroke? My furry ass was on strike, and this witch didn’t even have any feline offering for me.

Damelza’s eyes narrowed. “Bad kitty.”

Oh, it was time to introduce her to Master Claws. I swiped at her, but she rolled her eyes, grabbing me by the scruff of the neck and swinging me towards the back wall.

“Unhand the cat,” Magenta demanded.

“If you say so.” Damelza hurled me at the wall.

My little legs kicked, and my ears flattened against my head.

Meoowww…

I landed on my human ass on the hard floor of the attic. My attic, which I’d been trapped in for a decade.

Don’t freak out, poop, wet your pants, breathe, breathe, breathe…

I shook, counting down from a hundred backwards in my head to control my shock and despair. I knew that I wasn’t truly back here, but it was so real. It wasn’t like a memory; it was my truth.

I was living it again, and it turned my stomach.

I’d transformed back into a teenager, and I carded my fingers through my unruly hair, glancing down at the plain jeans and t-shirt. They were worn because I’d only had two sets of clothes. Dad had worked hard to even get those for me, and I’d been so grateful.

I was grateful.

My mind became hazy, until I truly was my teenage self again.

Aquilo would be visiting at the weekend, and I smiled happily at the thought. I loved Aquilo like a brother. Would he find my new comedy routine funny? He needed to laugh more.

I cocked my head, as the sound of jazz wound from the garden below. Louis Armstrong’s “It’s a Wonderful World” lit up the dusty attic like life after a long winter. Why was someone playing music in the garden? Then I heard laughter. I leaned forward at the siren call, as for the first time in years, hope blossomed through me.

I crawled across the attic, pushing myself over my mattress and my favorite book that I always slept with because it was the first thing that dad had given to me in my captivity, and onto the window seat beneath the tiny window that looked out at the garden. No one came to this corner of the garden apart from Hartley anymore. I’d decided that it had to be mum’s order to isolate me.

I covered my mouth with my hand like if I even breathed too loudly then I’d ruin something so bright in the dreariness of my life. My kitteny side purred, desperate to burst out, but I held onto my human side, aching desperately to see who was below me and so close.

I peeked through the window, careful not to be seen. Once, when I’d only just been locked up, a servant had caught sight of my curly hair, as I’d been looking out at the birds. When she’d reported it to mum, it’d taken dad’s pleading to reduce the punishment to a whipping and not the boarding up of the window.

I’d have gone crazy without being able to see the sky. Dad had made me swear never to let myself be seen again. I’d been able to lie to everybody but never to dad.

Yet when I saw Hartley beneath the blossoms surrounded by presents and her friends, as music played and Glow acted the butler, all I craved was to smash the glass and call out to her.

Happy Birthday would do it. I might be a monster but I hadn’t forgotten my manners.

It was a shock to remember that other people still celebrated their birthdays, and it made my chest ache that Hartley had continued to celebrate hers. Deep inside, I’d guessed that my becoming a mage and shaming my family hadn’t changed anything for Hartley, but seeing it was a different ball of prickles…one that hurt.

BM — before magic — Hartley had insisted that I come to all of her parties, even though mum had said that she was spoiling me. Hartley would simply clasp my hand and yank me along like a doll. She’d rarely let me out of her sight.

AM — Hartley hadn’t visited me in the attic once. I’d thought that she’d miss me as much as I missed her. My bones ached like I’d lost a limb as much as a sister.

She must lie to herself, as much as I did.

Yet now she was in my corner of the garden (yeah, I’d claimed it as my territory, although dad hadn’t been pleased with that explanation for why I’d sprayed in cat form all over the windows). Until now, I’d only ever seen her jogging each evening around the formal gardens in the distance.

Finally, I wasn’t alone. Maybe somebody would save me now?

I blinked, shuddering. Why did that feel so familiar?

When I studied the gang of girls in glittering party dresses around Hartley, I gasped.

Mesilande held Hartley’s hand, just like Hartley had once held mine. Her red hair was caught up in silver clasps, and her dress sparkled like she’d stepped out of a fairy tale. How many times had I wanked over fantasies of her as my princess sweeping into the attic to rescue me?

Okay, a lot.

Mesilande was older than Hartley and me. She was from an ancient and powerful French coven. When I’d been young, she’d visited and stayed with us for an entire summer, and I’d developed my first ever crush. She hadn’t noticed.

Oh yeah, she’d noticed.

But Mesilande hadn’t been cruel like the other witches who’d have used it against me. She hadn’t even become angry, when I’d told her that one day, I’d marry and protect her, which should’ve meant a beating because how could a non-magical male ever protect a witch? Plus, I had no right to choose who I married: I was property and breeding stock to be married off by the females of my family.

Mesilande had only laughed gently, and cupped my cheek. She’d called me her petit knight.

Then she’d murmured into my ear, “My mama is proposing an alliance between our Houses through our marriage. I hope that your mama accepts. You need to grow up for me, petit knight. I shall wait for you.”

I swallowed, as I peered at Mesilande: the girl who’d promised to wait for me. Only, Pan’s balls, she’d grown up beautiful.

I swept back my curls, rubbing at the smudges of dirt on my cheeks. I hadn’t seen myself in a mirror in years, only the hazy reflection of the window. What would the elegant Parisian witch think of me if she saw me?

Hold up one prickling minute… Why was I even thinking about being seen?

My nails clawed into the soft wood of the window frame. My eyes burned with tears, as I watched the birthday party below, which I was close to and yet entirely separated from.

It filled me with happiness just to see my sister happy. Wasn’t that enough? Why did I have to be so greedy? I slapped my forehead, but it didn’t help because the hope had already sneaked in.

What if Hartley had held her party in that corner of the garden on purpose? She knew that I’d be able to watch from the attic and that the music would reach me. Was she trying to be kind, so that this year I could join in, rather than be isolated?

I grinned, bouncing on my knees on the window seat. I hummed “It’s a Wonderful World”. I didn’t have much but I could steal this shared moment with my sister, Mesilande, and her friends. The sky was blue, the trees painted in multi-colors, and I could almost taste the chocolate birthday cake. Hartley looked so contented; I laughed because I’d hoped that she was.

What lie had they told Mesilande about me to explain my absence? Had mum told everybody that I’d died years ago or been sent away? The House of Jewels was all about status and perfection. I knew some covens admitted to throwing their mage sons to the wolves, but the House of Jewels wouldn’t want the scandal.

A dangerous fledgling hope grew in my chest, as the warm sunshine beat down, and I risked pushing myself up to watch the party. What if Hartley arranged this, so that Mesilande, who’d been one of my suitors and had whispered that she’d wait for me, could discover how cruelly I was being treated and rescue me?

A jolt hit me. What if all along Hartley had herself been forced to treat me like a monster because of mum?

My gaze darted between the two girls and then away. Wasn’t I like a furry version of Rapunzel locked in the tower? I didn’t have any hair to let down, but if Mesilande found out that I was still here and alive in the attic, she’d climb up and rescue me from the wicked witch (in my mind, I was brave enough to call mum that).

Only in my mind though.

My eyes gleamed, as I leaned up, resting my forehead on the window. My breath misted the glass. I trembled, flooded with adrenaline.

This was it… Just raise your hand and…

My fist fell to my side. I would be breaking a serious rule. If they saw me, and I was wrong, then I’d lose my window.

I’d be walled up like I’d truly died.

But if I didn’t, I could lose my one chance to escape. I rose my shaking fist. I might be a shimage and a disappointment of a son but I wasn’t a coward.

I knelt up on the windowsill, quaking with excitement and fear. Snails and slugs, if this worked, then I’d finally be free…

I banged on the glass, frantically waving at the girls below. “Hey, up here, yeah, that’s right. I’m up here. Hartley…Hartley…? Happy Birthday! I mean,” then I sang, just as I always had, “Happy Birthday, sister!” Hartley froze, turning to stare up at the window. The other witches were watching me as well. They hadn’t shouted back yet, but to have anyone looking at me was thrilling after so long alone. I existed, and I was about to be saved. Glow’s head was ducked. I self-consciously tucked my hair behind my ear. “Mesilande, it’s me: your petit knight. I’m trapped up here. Please, I need you to help me. Will you save me?”

Mesilande looked up, studying me with a cool smile. She was so beautiful. Then she arched her eyebrow and waved.

My heart leaped in my chest. I grinned, waving back.

She hadn’t forgotten her promise.

Hartley’s gaze met mine for a long moment. Then she whispered to Mesilande and the other witches, who all glanced up at me again, before they burst into laughter.

My grin withered and died. I flinched back, curling around myself. My cheeks flushed, and I was suddenly dizzy.

Then Hartley, Mesilande and the rest of the witches turned away and back to the party like I’d been no more than an amusing distraction. They’d known that I was locked away…and they didn’t care.

My vision blurred with tears, and I tumbled off the window seat, retching onto the mattress. My insides felt broken. I crumpled into a ball, pulling my arms over my head, but I couldn’t block out “It’s a Wonderful World” and its lies.

I was a monster. No one saved the monster.

Had Hartley set me up? She’d crushed me in a way that mum had never managed because now I knew what I’d lost and that I’d never…ever…be saved.

I sobbed, as the world span.

All of a sudden, I tumbled onto the floor of the Memory Theater. I was still sobbing, but now I wasn’t alone, a teenager, or trapped in the attic anymore. Soft arms cradled me to a woman’s chest.

Woah, looked like this cat truly had become crazy.

Then I smelled the scent of ancient forests and felt the icy touch of lips to my fevered forehead, and knew that it was Magenta holding me tightly like she was my knight and could save me.

I half believed that.

Had she fought herself free from the seats or had the straps lifted, since the ride was over?

When I glanced up, forcing myself to sink back into my adult body because it was disorienting as waking up from that vivid dream where you’re Grand Mage and Conqueror of the Universe now kneel before me weak covens (okay, that might be one of my favorite recurring dreams), to find that you’re the mage son at the mercy of your witch family. For the first minute, you’re not sure which reality is real.

If they had a Dream Theater here then I was screwed.

Bask and Sleipnir crouched either side of me with their hands resting on my shoulders.

Had they seen everything…? When I studied their troubled expressions, I shuddered. Oh yeah, they’d seen or lived through it, the same as me.

“I suffered being trapped for many decades,” Magenta murmured. “Fairy tales are a nonsense. You didn’t need others to save you because you wished to be the knight to save others, and you did. You rescued me from the dark.”

I caught my breath, raising my head to stare at her. Then I wiped away my tears on the back of my hand. “Huh, maybe I am a legend.”

Magenta smiled, kissing the tip of my nose. “You’re mine.”

“You think that you’re the only one to be treated like the monster?” Sleipnir shifted uncomfortably. Mist circled his head in agitated laps, pawing the air. “It’s the monster who’s awesome enough to create their own tale.”

Bask brushed the air around my foot like he was desperate for the touch, but would take even the vibrations of my magic. “I know isolation too, see, and being broken. But you’re with us now, and we’ll protect and love you.” His eyes glittered dangerously. “Plus, if I ever meet that Mesilande bitch, I’d break my hatred of getting blood on my pretty gloves.”

Magenta nodded. “They’re decidedly pretty gloves. But unfortunately, when we catch the witch, both our pretty gloves will be shamefully stained.”

Bask preened, before lowering himself closer to me. I pushed away from Magenta because I’d had enough shocks today not to want to add electric ones into the mix. The way that Bask caged me, made me feel like prey, but I’d never hungered to be caught so much in my life.

“I want to kiss you now, but seeing as I can’t…” Bask’s eyes glittered. “Imagine that I am and then that in my mind you haven’t been a virgin since the moment we met.”

Was that me whimpering? I didn’t whimper. “Is that because of the eyefucking? I mean, I’m pretty certain that it was me eyefucking you.”

I yipped, as Sleipnir wrenched me by the curls, pulling me back towards Magenta. He held me in place for Magenta who silenced me with a kiss.

I melted into her, as her tongue twined with mine. The kiss was firm and possessive: a promise that I was no longer alone. When she drew back, I was panting.

“Soon, neither you nor I will be virgins, and it won’t be in our minds,” Magenta murmured, as her lips grazed my ear.

Okay, I hold my paws up, that time, I definitely whimpered.

Sleipnir traced down my spine, and I shivered. “I take it that you wish this?”

Did Mr Fierce love curling up and pretending that he was a ball that’d magically come alive…? Yeah, he did.

I grinned. “I knew that you were a jinni. Just don’t make my wish go wrong.”

“It’s already gone wrong.” Damelza tapped her foot next to my head, and I looked up at her, as she glowered down at me. Whoops, I’d forgotten that this was a lesson and not a snogging session. Maybe I could blame the trauma as a Get out of Jail Free card. The Princes crowded behind Damelza, watching our snuggling with way too much interest. “Enough with the disgusting PDA. You survived the Memory Theater, which is more than I expected.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

Damelza pulled her coat of feathers closer around her. “We all now know that you’re used to that.” I winced. Wow, right for the heart. “Here in the academy we believe in sharing both the good and the bad. Once your most private moments have been extracted, they no longer belong to you.” I frowned, realizing that the kaleidoscope of images was still turning on the wall. Had my memories been added to it? Bile burned my throat. “Your past and secrets now belong to the academy, like you do.”

No one could steal my past or pain, and no witch could. Just because they’d extracted a single moment from my life, didn’t mean that they knew me, or that they owned me, any more than my mum had or the House of Jewels, no matter what any of them thought. There’d been a time when I’d have allowed myself to be married off as the dutiful son, but because I’d had magic, they’d thrown me away. So, this furry cat was claiming his own tail back.

“What about your secrets?” My eyes narrowed. I was going for it… “Gateway.”

Damelza’s eyes flared. “Watch your mouth, mage.”

“Watch it say things like: we’re training to be assassins on missions. But what are the other secrets? This whole academy trades on memories, desires, and hurts.” I nodded at the feather charm behind her ear. “You can hide your lies from my power, but no one can hide secrets forever.”

Magenta’s smile was grim. “Your ancestors burned me because of my inconvenient truth, but witching heavens, look at this…I’m back. The past can’t be buried, any more than secrets can.”

Damelza gripped Magenta and me, hauling us both to our feet. “I’m the new generation of the House of Crows; you’ve no idea what I’m capable of. You fight for me or I can bury you, the past, and any secret that I wish. This academy offers you new worlds of opportunity, but I’m the Principal. I rule here, and no one has ever escaped.”