Chapter 8: The New Girl

“Easy, kisa.”

The familiar voice was thick with a Russian accent and elicited both feelings of warmth and sadness. It spoke to her from the void, guiding her back to the world of the living. The darkness peeled away to reveal a small dance studio with wooden floors and large windows overlooking a city. One of the interior walls was a mirror, and in the reflection was a young, black teen who sat on the floor, her face wracked with pain as an older man held her left leg in place while examining her knee.

It took a moment for her to realize that she was looking at her own reflection. Unable to control her actions, she was forced to watch.

“No need for tears, kisa, is just a sprain.” The man left her behind and crossed the room to a small closet. He dug around inside and came back with a thick roll of bandages in his hands.

She couldn’t see his face in the mirror, her eyes locked on her own reflection. She was maybe fifteen or sixteen, but it was hard to tell. Her frame was thin and possibly malnourished, and there were small hollows beneath her eyes like she hadn’t slept in days.

Is this who I was?

“Will I still be able to compete?” the teen asked, hopefully. She kept wiping away fresh tears before the man could see them.

“The heart of a dancer is stronger than the body of one, kisa. Perhaps you sit this one out.”

“No, I have to compete,” she protested, her voice fading into a distant echo. The memory was melting around her, the void reaching out with icy hands to claim her once again. She kicked her furry legs and swam away into the darkness until she could float alone with her thoughts. Had that been one of her memories? Was she the girl in the mirror?

The man’s name was on the tip of her tongue, but the harder she tried to say it, the further it crawled down her own throat, determined to hide. The darkness now pulsed with stars, bright things that hurt her eyes and made her head throb in time with the universe around her.

She opened her eyes one at a time to see that she was lying on a bed in a dimly lit room. On its own, her hand touched her neck. It was purely instinctual, and the move itself caused her head to pound in time with her pulse.

A small moan escaped her lips, and when she tried to sit up, nausea and dizziness forced her to lay back down.

Some time passed before the rustling of fabric caught her ears, and she turned her head to see a woman standing in the opening of the room. The stranger snapped her fingers and a lantern by the door ignited, filling the room with a soft, yellow light that was barely tolerable.

“You’re finally awake. I was worried you would be out forever.” The woman picked up the lantern and walked to the bed, then set the light down on a nearby table. She looked Asian but had patches of scale-like skin along her face and neck that shimmered in the lantern light. “My name is Ratu. What’s yours?”

“Nngh.” The pain of trying to speak was nearly rivaled by the frustration of being unable to answer.

“I’m afraid you took a rather nasty blow to the head. Here.” Ratu held out a couple of pills. “These will help with the pain. You can chew them.”

She took the pills and popped them in her mouth. If this woman had wanted to poison or hurt her, she could have done it already. Besides, her head hurt badly enough that she couldn’t think past making the pain stop.

The pills tasted awful, but it was like pouring water on an open flame. The pain rampaging through her head diminished greatly, and she let out a sigh of relief.

“Better?” Ratu asked, her green eyes glowing.

“Yes. Thank you.” She not only felt better, but oddly calm. Looking into Ratu’s eyes reminded her of a warm night by the fire, and it occurred to her that she was now staring. She looked away and rubbed her eyes, her whole body now warm and fuzzy, inside and out.

“Good. Let’s try again. What’s your name?”

“I...” Her own name was even farther away than the man’s name had been. Why was that? “I don’t know.”

“Interesting.” Ratu arched an eyebrow. “Do you know where you are or how you got here?”

“Um... “ The images in her head didn’t make sense, but she decided to be honest. “I was in a fight. I think. With a statue.”

“A gargoyle,” Ratu corrected her. “You were trying to escape and Abella knocked you out. You’ve been unconscious for a couple of days now.”

“I have?” She felt the back of her head. Sure enough, there was a large, painful lump buried beneath her fur. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my labyrinth. I brought you here for safekeeping because I have some questions for you, though I doubt you’ll be able to answer them if you don’t even know your own name.”

“Oh.” That made sense and the memory of her attempt to flee the house became clear to her. She saw the faces again, her memory settling on the snarling visage of a green goblin. The fur on her neck stood up, and she smoothed it back down.

“Well, I won’t waste your time much longer. Why did you attack Mike?”

“Mike?” Ah, right. That was the man’s name. “I was trying to sneak out and he found me.”

“And why were you sneaking?”

“I was ... scared.” That answer felt right, but if it was true, why wasn’t she scared now? Her situation seemed far more dire, but an odd sense of relaxation had settled over her. Even now, she could see Ratu’s skin shifting in the lantern-light, but it didn’t even bother her.

“Scared of what?”

“I don’t remember. It just felt like I had to escape. I needed to escape. I think I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I just...” She let out a sigh. “Am I a prisoner here?”

“More like a guest. If you were a prisoner, you’d be in chains. But do keep in mind that the nature of your status can change in an instant.” Ratu smirked, then held out a hand. “Are you hungry?”

She nodded, and let the woman help her up. They walked together to another room where some food had been set at a small dining table. Ratu asked her a series of questions, most of which she had no answer for. She ate until she was full, a move that was almost instinctive on her part.

Ratu conducted a small series of tests after they ate, most of which involved a hovering ball of light. When they were done, Ratu led her out of the building into a large, subterranean chamber with a floating crystal up above.

“So, what now?” she asked, looking up at the crystal. She could feel the heat coming off of it like a tiny sun.

“Well, from what I can tell, your memory has been completely wiped. I don’t know whether that’s from a magical injury or a physical one. As for your physical condition, are you sure you don’t remember anything about your transformation?”

She touched her throat involuntarily again and remembered the young woman in the mirror. If that really was one of her memories, then how did she become this way? “I really don’t.”

Ratu nodded. “Well, now that you’ve your wits about you, I think it’s time we go upstairs and speak with the Caretaker, and—”

At the word caretaker, a throaty growl formed in the back of her throat. She cut it off and stared at Ratu, appalled.

“I have no idea why I just did that,” she said. “Please don’t lock me up.”

“Tell me, do you mean to harm Mike?” Ratu had crossed her arms in a manner that had placed one of her hands up a sleeve.

“The man from upstairs? No, why?”

“Because he’s the Caretaker.”

The growl was more of a squeak this time, and she shook her head, fighting her instincts. “I really don’t know why I keep doing that, I swear.”

“Oh, I know. You can’t lie to me, not for another few hours, anyway,” Ratu responded.

“I can’t?”

“No, you can’t. When you took your medicine, I cast a spell on you to calm you down and keep you honest. You see, your appearance caused quite a commotion, and I needed to make sure you weren’t a threat before taking you back.”

“That makes sense.” However, now that she knew that she had been enchanted, her hackles rose a bit. Something about knowing a spell had been cast on her made her angry, or at least, she knew that it should. It was almost like her brain was busy trying to be two people at once.

“Come with me. And if you see Asterion, don’t let him make you nervous. He’s meant to scare you, but since the spell I cast is fading, I don’t feel like chasing you through the Labyrinth all day.”

She nodded and followed Ratu. The passageways were long, but they went through several shortcuts and doorways that didn’t make any sense. A golden lion prowled around on Ratu’s purple kimono, and occasionally swatted at her hair when it came near.

“What are you?” she asked. “I mean, you can do magic. Are you a witch?”

“I’m a naga.” Ratu looked over her shoulder to reveal that her face now resembled a snake. She shook her head, and when her hair passed over her face, it was back to normal. “A snake deity, of sorts. What are you?”

“Um...” She really had no idea and told the naga so. “Do you know what I am?”

“That’s open for debate,” the naga admitted. “You see, all the evidence points at you being human once, so you can’t simply be nekomata, or a cat spirit. They start as cats. My best guess is that you are a human who has fallen prey to a curse or enchantment that has made you into this ... cat person.”

She gasped and touched her throat again. “Am I going to turn into a cat?”

Ratu noticed this movement and stopped. “No. The method of enchantment has been removed, but may I?” She came closer and ran her hands through the thick fur of her neck. “Hmm. That would make a lot of sense, actually.”

“What would?”

“An enchanted collar.”

At the word collar, she touched her throat again, her heart pounding.

“Someone did this to me?”

“They did. But it was nobody you are about to meet. Come.” She tapped on a stone and it swung open like a door, revealing an ordinary room with wooden floors on the other side.

“This is ... this is a house!” When she stepped through, the door behind them swung shut and vanished into the wood paneling.

“It is. I got tired of getting wet, so the rats put it in for me.”

It was an odd statement from the naga, but there was no chance to ask about it because they turned down a hallway and were now in a dining room that smelled strongly of fresh baked goods. Even now, the table was being set by a very tall woman wearing an apron. When the woman turned to see who had arrived, she saw that she only had one eye.

“I didn’t expect to see you,” the woman said, looking down at the newcomer. The cyclops was easily seven feet tall. “I take it our visitor is okay?”

“Better than expected, actually.” Ratu pulled a chair out and indicated that they should all sit. “This is Sofia, by the way. She’s a cyclops, in case you didn’t know that.”

While her own personal memory was an aching void in her brain, she did at least recognize the cyclops for what she was. However, she had been staring and looked away, embarrassed. “Sorry, everything is ... my name is...”

“Unknown,” the naga finished for her, then picked up a pastry with a raspberry filling. “Mike isn’t up yet? Thought I heard that he was back?”

“He had a bad night,” Sofia answered. “The head injury he got from the gate was bad enough that the centaurs took him and ... our other new guest for observation. They haven’t returned yet.” She shook her head, then shrugged. “Beth filled us in on what happened, and she’s pretty upset, but not as mad as Tink or Yuki. Tink spent all morning repairing the electrical panel so I could at least make breakfast, so that’s kept her busy. Yuki has been hovering around the centaurs, and I’m sure you know how much they like that.”

“Hmm.” Ratu tapped a finger on the table. “I think I’ll stick around a bit longer. I was planning to just pass along a quick report, but I don’t want anyone feisty taking out their aggressions on the new girl just yet.”

“That’s a good idea.” Sofia sat across from the cat girl. “Can I make you anything? Are you hungry?”

Though she had eaten in Ratu’s lair, she was already hungry again. “Do you have anything ... um ... sausage, maybe?” Sausage sounded good, and it made her stomach growl audibly.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Sofia vanished around the corner.

“Hey, have you seen any of the fairies lately?” Ratu had raised her voice so Sofia could hear her. “I wanted to send a message up, but I haven’t seen any of them recently, and they didn’t come when I tried to summon them. Not that I mind sending messages by rat, but they’re kind of a one-way affair without Reggie to translate.”

“Come to think of it, no, I haven’t.” The air filled with the sound of something sizzling in a hot pan, followed by the sweet aroma of frying meat. “I figured they were bothering you, or the centaurs maybe.”

“They’ll turn up, they always do, though it usually means they just broke something.” The naga consumed her pastry slowly, picking it into small pieces with her fingers and savoring each bite with a smile.

The sausages arrived with a side of bacon and some toast. Sofia set them down on the table, then handed over a knife and fork.

“Thought you might want something other than just meat, but let me know. I can make whatever.”

“Are you the chef or something?” she asked while taking the utensils.

Ratu smirked, and Sofia shrugged.

“I like to be useful. Unlike some people here, I enjoy spending time with everyone, and love to cook. The Library gets lonely.”

The Library.

There was a sudden flash of a memory, but it faded away before it could leave a mark. She looked down at her plate and picked up her fork.

Oh well. It was better to be confused on a full stomach. The toast was fine, but the sausage was absolutely exquisite, and when she bit into the bacon, she let out a small purr of delight. The others watched her for a few seconds, and then Sofia offered to make her some more since she seemed so hungry. She nodded, and held up her plate for the cyclops to take.

When Sofia came back a bit later, she had doubled the amount of sausage and bacon on the plate.

“Eat your fill,” she said. “We’ve got plenty.”

“Eat your fill, kisa.” The old man slid a bowl of soup across the table to her. Her hands were tiny, and her arms shook when she pulled the bowl closer to herself. The over-sized coat she wore was still wet from the snow, and small puddles had formed beneath her elbows on the table. “I’ve got plenty.”

The memory startled her, and she dropped the piece of bacon she had been holding. The others were deep in conversation about something else now, and she picked up a sausage, holding the greasy roll of meat in between her fingers.

Who was that old man? Did he know who she was? She wasn’t able to ponder these questions for long when she heard a loud bang from the front of the house. Everyone at the table stood up and ran, and she couldn’t help but follow out of curiosity.

Mike groaned as Zel cleaned away the dry blood on the back of his head. He sat on a table in her yurt, and she was now using tweezers to check his wound. Last night, he had faded in and out of consciousness as the centaurs rushed him to their camp for medical treatment. When he woke up this morning, it was to discover that his head was bandaged so heavily that he had worried that he had died and been mummified, only to awaken years later now that there was a new Caretaker.

It was a silly thought, but he knew he had a concussion and figured it was just par for the course.

“Hmm, interesting,” Zel muttered from behind him. He waited, in the hopes that she would say more.

She didn’t.

“What?” he finally asked her. “Is my brain hanging out? If so, it serves me right. Try and push only the smart part back in, please.”

“Does this hurt?” She did something and he winced as a sharp pain shot through his skull, then faded.

“A bit, but not too bad. What is ... oh?” Zel’s hand appeared in front of his face holding a twisted wire. “What is that?”

“Those are your stitches. I had to take them out.” She moved in front of him and wiped some blood off her hands with a towel, then tossed it into a basket.

“Why? Is something wrong?” He reached a hand back to feel the wound, then thought better of it.

“On the contrary. You had a fairly deep gash back there last night and I used stitches to close it up. This morning, the gash is raw and scabbed over, but it’s superficial and doesn’t need to be held together any longer.” The centaur frowned. “I could have sworn it was worse last night.”

“What about my head though? It still hurts like a bitch.” He pointed at his temples. “It feels like there’s a bag of broken glass behind my eyes.”

“Considering you mouthed off to the faerie queen, you’re lucky you still have those eyes.” Zel shuddered. “I’m just glad you came back in one piece.”

“Me too. Do I need these anymore?” He held up some fresh bandages.

“No. I just have some stuff I want to put on there to prevent infections, so don’t take a bath as soon as you get back. Wait until this evening.”

“Okay.” He set the bandages down and looked at the floor. How did he even ask his next question? “Um, how is ... Quetzalli? Is she okay?”

The centaur smiled. “That’s something you are going to have to see for yourself. I don’t even know where to begin.”

That was an odd answer, but he accepted it.

After a few more minutes of medical care, Zel released him and he hopped down off the table with a little help from her. They stepped out of the yurt together and he squinted at the cloudy sky, his eyes struggling to adjust.

They walked for a little bit, chatting about nothing in particular, then arrived at the center of camp. The centaurs milled about, ready to perform their daily tasks, and Mike didn’t even have to ask where Quetzalli was.

A small basket had been turned upside down to create a stool for the woman, and she sat on it now, surrounded by a small crowd of youngsters. Once they were close enough, he could hear her speaking to them, her voice rich with a Spanish accent.

“ ... and when Huitzilopochtli defeated his brothers, he cast them into the sky where they became the stars!” Quetzalli dramatically threw a handful of dirt above the youngsters, who let out screams of laughter and then bolted out from underneath the debris. The dragon laughed along with them until her dark, purple eyes met his. The centaur children saw Mike coming and departed, suddenly doing their best to look busy.

“So ... how are you doing?” he asked.

She scowled at him. She had the appearance of an older woman in her mid-to-late forties, with streaks of black in her mostly silver hair. She wore a simple skirt and a centaur’s tunic that had been retooled to fit. Also, tiny bits of hay were stuck to her everywhere. The small horn in the center of her forehead was cracked, the tip of it missing, and when she stood, he noticed that her legs and forearms had large patches of glittering blue scales on them.

“I’ve been better,” she said, then her legs wobbled and she stumbled toward him.

When he put his hands out to catch her, he received a sizable static shock that caused his left arm to suddenly retract, which caused him to catch her awkwardly. Because of this, her shoulders twisted funny, causing the top button of her tunic to pop open, revealing a pair of ample breasts that had been crammed inside.

“The youngsters have been teaching her to walk,” Zel explained as Mike steadied the dragon. “She isn’t used to her human form yet.”

“No, I am not.” Quetzalli managed to stand on her own, and then put her hands on her waist. She was about a foot shorter than Mike, but somehow looked just as menacing as if she were a foot taller than him. “It appears that my enchantment may be permanent.”

“Any ideas about how we can reverse it?” Mike asked, then looked at Zel.

“None. Ratu might know, but I haven’t been able to send her a faerie. Can’t seem to find any of them when there’s work to be done.”

“I am so sorry,” he began, but Quetzalli held up her hand to silence him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she told him. “This was the queen’s doing, not yours.”

“We’ll find a way to reverse it.”

“Perhaps.” She looked him up and down. “It is so fascinating to see you up close like this. And this place we’re in—is this your home?”

“Not ... quite. I thought you would be far angrier than you seem.”

“Oh, she was.” Zel smiled. “But we were able to talk her down a bit, and convince her that we would do our best.”

“Yes, she did.” Quetzalli poked him in the chest with her finger, which caused another spark. “And while I don’t blame you, you are the reason I ended up in this mess. You owe me for saving your life, and I intend to collect.”

“Anything, just name it.”

“I need a place to stay until I can return to my original form. I would prefer to stay with you, as I no longer know anybody in the mortal realm who can help me.”

“Done.” He stuck his hand out. “I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and help return you to normal.”

Quetzalli nodded. “Then we have an agreement.” She looked down at his extended hand. “What are you doing?”

“It’s a handshake. When humans come to an agreement, they shake hands.”

“Oh. Right. I am familiar with the custom, but keep forgetting I have ... these.” She held out her hands and wiggled her fingers. “They feel so fragile, like sticks that have been out in the sun for too long. And the claws are useless. Look at how thin they are! You could barely dig a hole with them.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend—OW!”

Quetzalli had grabbed his extended hand and squeezed it as hard as she could, which caused the bones and tendons inside his palm to pop loudly. He fought to yank his hand free, but she misunderstood and held on with a grip of iron, pumping his hand up and down vigorously.

“How do I know when a handshake is over?” The dragon asked, then looked over to Zel, oblivious to Mike’s reaction. “Does this look right? It doesn’t feel right.”

Zel said nothing, hiding a grin behind her hands.

“Two seconds. Two seconds!” Mike yelled, and she released him. His hand was throbbing, but he didn’t feel any permanent damage.

“Okay. Two seconds for a handshake. Got it.”

“You’re ... you’re crazy strong, aren’t you?” He flexed his hand a few times, hoping that movement would alleviate the pain.

“She is a dragon, after all.” Zel moved close to Quetzalli and pulled a small wooden stick from her pocket. “When she first came to us, she was as pale as a ghost. Her skin has darkened a bit, and these revealed themselves.” She tapped on a set of scales along Quetzalli’s neck. “She still has some draconic properties that I think will continue to emerge in the days ahead.”

“Okay, but why the stick?” He found the centaur’s behavior odd.

“I got tired of getting zapped,” she replied, then pointed at Quetzalli’s broken horn. “She constantly generates an electrical charge, but the sudden change in size meant that she could no longer hold in all that energy, and so it broke. Unfortunately, based on what she told me, her horn helped her control her own lightning, so you may get a nasty shock every now and then.”

He thought back to the spark he had experienced earlier and looked at the dragon. “Not enough to kill me or anything, right?”

The dragon shrugged. “I really can’t say. Zel didn’t think so, and my horn will heal over time as long as I’m careful with it.”

“Indeed.” He moved closer to her and examined the fractured horn. It had a spiral pattern which reminded him of a unicorn. “Maybe we could get Tink to make you a cap for it? Something to keep it from getting damaged even further?”

“If you do that, pick a conductive material,” Zel added. “You don’t want her building up another big charge or anything. The discharge could crack her horn down at the core, which would be very bad.”

“Sounds reasonable.” He really had no idea how electricity worked beyond the basics, but was sure that Tink would be able to fashion something with little effort. “Any other things we should know?”

“She’s been human for less than twenty-four hours. Though she has watched over mankind for centuries, it doesn’t mean she understands them.” Zel threw a look at Quetzalli. “I don’t pretend to fully understand a dragon’s supernatural biology, or the spell that transformed her. Fae magic is certainly a thing to behold, but so is a dragon. Her body is still acclimating to this form, and because some of her draconic traits have already manifested since her arrival, like the scales on her skin, it’s possible other traits may push through the enchantment over time.”

“So puberty for dragons, got it. Hey, can I ask you something? What do you know about Sulyvahn?”

“The dullahan?” She shrugged. “I haven’t talked to him, actually. I’ve been too busy here.”

“What about the others? I’ve seen him speaking with the centaurs and I wonder what he’s been talking about.”

“Oh? You have my curiosity. Why the sudden interest in him?”

Mike frowned. “The faerie queen knew we were coming and made sure we had a nasty welcome waiting for us. Naturally I assume he told her because he’s a spy.”

The centaur rolled her eyes. “Well, you weren’t exactly being quiet about what you were doing or where you were going. Even if he did report to the faerie queen, you can hardly call what he did spying. If your neighbors could actually see what was happening in your front yard, even they would have known you were up to something, cause you built a small closet in the middle of your yard and then had a squad of magic rats chew a portal in it. So even if Sulyvahn is spying on you, you can’t blame him for passing on information that you pretty much handed over.”

“You sound like you’re on his side.” He hadn’t expected Zel to lecture him about the dullahan, and his cheeks were now burning.

“He may be in your front yard, but he still answers to the queen. You can’t be mad at him for siding with his boss, especially when you’ve made no effort to properly welcome him here.”

“So he has been spying on us.” He shook his head, wondering how he was going to get rid of the headless nuisance.

“If he is, he’s only reporting what he sees. It’s not like we answered a bunch of questions about you or the house.” Zel crossed her arms. “In fact, the only thing he’s really even talked about is the garden in the front yard.”

“What about the garden?” Mike asked.

“He seems super into botany, but he keeps offering useless advice on those bushes near the front—the ones that keep getting sick and dying. I have some of our best botanists keeping your yard in good condition. They love tending to your plants, and it’s their way of thanking you for letting us live here. He keeps offering up holistic approaches to your poor soil issues, and the centaurs just smile and nod for him because he’s friendly.”

“That’s a little weird.”

Zel nodded. “It is. He suggested planting iron spikes all around your bushes because it might loosen the soil, then told my top herbalist that a ring of salt might keep slugs away. You don’t even have a slug problem, so we told him we would keep it in mind.”

“A slug ... problem...” Mike put his chin in his hand, his mind whirring through the possibilities. Why would the queen’s spy become so involved with how he kept his yard? He hadn’t liked the dullahan since he had arrived, but he knew now that he hadn’t given him a fair shake. Now that he knew how nasty the queen could be, he thought back to Sulyvahn’s warnings. Had the dullahan really been looking out for him?

“Ack! Pffft!”

A stray bit of hair had gotten stuck in Quetzalli’s face, and she was actively trying to remove it. Unfortunately, it looked to be the hair of a centaur’s tail, and she poked herself in the eye trying to pull the thing off her face.

“Hold still,” he told her, then got a nasty zap for his efforts. He was able to peel the hair off her face, but when he let go of it, it floated back toward her and stuck to her belly.

“That’s been a bit of an uphill battle,” Zel informed him. “She fell into a hay bale earlier and it took us an hour to get it all out of her hair.”

“It was unexpectedly itchy,” Quetzalli added. “And I did not care for the flavor, either.”

“You’re not supposed to eat it.” Zel let out an exasperated sigh. “And we don’t eat it either. We use it to lie down and things like that.”

“But I thought that horses ate hay?”

“Again, like I said before, we aren’t horses. This part of me is like a horse, but that does not mean we’re ... you know what? It’s fine.” Zel looked back at Mike. “Now that your head isn’t broken, you should probably get back to the house. The others are waiting for your return, and I’m sure Quetzalli would like to find out where her room is.”

“I’m very curious to see the inside of a house,” the dragon added. “I’ve even heard that you have running water inside of them, like a magic river.”

“Just wait until I show you the internet,” Mike said, then gave Zel a big hug. “Thanks for taking care of me.”