This Magical Girl is Mine-4.8 December Discoveries

This Magical Girl is Mine-4.8 December Discoveries

On New Year’s Eve, I go stargazing. The apartment I share with Sophia is in a complex that isn’t quite as nice as the one where I’ve hidden away my secret streaming apartment, but it has a rooftop terrace with a good view. I invited Sophia to join me, but she said she’d probably be out late again.
Pandora is waiting for me when I reach the roof.
“Hello again, Ms. Emily,” the cat greets me in its pleasant, empty voice. “Are you adapting well to your new position within the Visage corporation? We’ve been watching your activities there with great interest. Streaming for an audience, having play fights with other idols, planning your presentation. It’s all very entertaining.” The cat tilts its head. “But we’re still trying to understand how this will further your goal of defeating Strix Striga.”
I’ve been expecting this conversation for some time. The Jovians recruited me to be their silver bullet against Striga, the secret weapon that could finally put an end to her meddling. The surface layer of that is the conflict between sidereals and solars—the patrons of witches and magical girls, respectively—but I know better now. The Jovians are a united organization, and they want Striga gone because she’s discovered the true nature of their game.
Striga and I have prepped for this encounter, though Striga’s coaching on the matter lacked the critical context of her own not-so-secret identity. Still, I’m not caught panicking. We don’t know for certain how much the Jovians know about the conspiracy’s activities, but we have to operate as if our operational security is intact. If the Jovians can pierce wards—if they can see deeper into human hearts than the Morrigan believes—then this entire conspiracy has been doomed from the start. So we must act as if we’ve deceived them, and we must act to maintain that deception. We all have our roles to play.
I walk past the cat and lean over the half-wall railing around the edge of the roof, admiring the stars above. The night sky isn’t normally this clear in the middle of Forks, but Radiance uses her power to mess with local light pollution every New Year’s Eve for a better fireworks show. “It’s a lot of fun,” I confide in the cat. “The money is good, too, but the sheer thrill of performing for a crowd, even a crowd I can’t directly see, is electric. It’s actually surprised me how much I’ve been enjoying this gig with Visage.”
Pandora waits for the rest of my answer, tail gently waving.
I let a smug smile creep across my face. “It’s actually quite satisfying to hear that the all-seeing aliens are unsure of my actions. Here’s hoping that means Striga herself won’t see it coming, because that’s half of why I’m doing this; I’m lulling her into a false sense of security about the threat that I pose to her. By day, I lose fake fights to magical girls and make a fool of myself for mortals with money. By night, I spend that money on tech from Ferromancer to feed my furnace. I’ve kept training with her, you know. Or, do you?” I raise an eyebrow.
“There are certain places we find difficult to peer into from outside,” Pandora admits. “Many domains are warded for privacy. Ferromancer’s workshop is one of those places. The Ossuary is another.” The cat’s tail flicks once and then stills. “On that topic, we were hoping you could shed light on a situation that we’ve been puzzling over. Last Halloween, we noted the arrival of various witches to the Ossuary, yourself and Ferromancer included. One witch never emerged: Delilah, who you met during the demonstration at the workshop. You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to her, would you?”
An interesting change of attack.
I flick my eyes up as if trying to remember something. “The witch with the spider mask?” I frown. “I didn’t see her that night, no. She didn’t seem the social type.”
I could leave it at that, and maybe I should, but there’s a thought that’s been gnawing at me since Halloween: do the Jovians trust Ferromancer? She insists that she’s tried her damnedest to get in their inner circle and has only ever been rebuffed, but they placed their silver bullet in her care. Was I a test for the artificer? Do they suspect her true allegiances? Or, worse, has Ferromancer gotten around her oath and deceived the Morrigan and Striga, her true loyalty to the Jovians all along?
That last one feels more like paranoia than anything else, but I can’t discount the possibility that my induction into Striga’s conspiracy has been part of a deeper game the Jovians are running. I can’t underestimate the opposition… though overestimating them is a problem all its own.
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask Ferromancer first,” I say, having paused for only a moment to gather my thoughts. “I asked her about Delilah at one point, curious why she’d been invited to the demo, and Ferromancer seemed to have history with her.
Deep
history. I’m pretty sure they’ve fucked.”
“We do not typically take an interest in the personal lives of our agents,” Pandora says diplomatically. “As for Ferromancer, she pleaded ignorance of the matter. Alas, our investigation shall continue.”
I turn around to put my back to the ledge and give the cat a look of mischievous curiosity. “Do you think the Morrigan is hiding witches in her basement or something? Or, wait, would that break hospitality? I’ve been studying pocketspaces and I’m pretty sure her power inside the Ossuary is contingent on following her own rules. I’d assume her ability to expel people would stop her from doing the opposite and keeping people trapped. Still, if anyone could find a loophole, I bet it’d be her.”
“Perhaps. We find it more likely that Delilah emerged from the Ossuary into a location we were not actively monitoring.” The cat’s tail flicks again. “No matter. Delilah was a piece of little importance in the greater game. You are far more valuable to our efforts, Ms. Emily.”
“Of course I am,” I preen. “I’m one of a kind.”
“Oh, yes,” Pandora agrees. “You are always a very interesting individual to watch. Are you looking forward to your date night with Sophia?”
My skin crawls and for a heartbeat I almost flinch.
Get that name out of your filthy, lying mouth, you wretched spawn of Jupiter.
“Of course,” I say. Was that too calm? Should I be excited, or is it appropriate to be nervous?
“It is my sincerest hope, Ms. Emily, that you will not be satisfied with this new routine. It would be a great shame if you ceased your efforts to overcome Strix Striga. That was, after all, the purpose for which you were empowered.” Pandora’s voice does not change, still perfectly pleasant and devoid of real emotion.
“If I did give up on that goal, what would you do about it?” I ask. I keep my voice careful and curious.
Don’t make it sound like a challenge. The Rachel who isn’t compromised doesn’t know they can’t take away her powers.
But the Jovian doesn’t give a bluff I could call. “We would simply give Striga a good enough reason to break her promise about those Friday nights. Given a choice between the
city
and
you,
well… you already know which she would choose, don’t you? Time with your precious Sophia will never be a certainty when she’s still
Striga
at heart, striving endlessly to save the world from every possible threat. You can’t have Sophia to yourself until you are Striga’s sole priority, and that can’t happen until you can beat her. You know this.”
I swallow. This time, I let my nervousness show. “I haven’t forgotten our deal,” I say quietly. “And I know what’s at stake. I
will
make her mine. I’ll give her so much pleasure and joy that she won’t care about the sidereals, won’t care about fighting witches. And if that isn’t enough… I have other ideas.”
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on NovelFire. any occurrences.
“Oh?” The cat tilts its head.
I smile coldly. “I’ve been thinking about what it means that the name of my power is
Prometheus.
Shaper of clay. Thief of fire. So far, I’ve only stolen trinkets and I’ve only shaped toys. But, I wonder… what else could I shape? What else could I steal? What does it mean, Pandora, to steal a human heart? What does it mean to shape a human mind? Perhaps those are limits I should explore.” My voice hardens. “Perhaps somewhere down that path lies the key to besting the most dangerous magical girl in the world. I’m not going to beat the perfect warrior in a month, cat. I told you, I’m
working on it.
Just give me time.”
Pandora purrs. “Of course. That sounds like a very productive line of inquiry, Ms. Emily. I do hope you find results.”
And then the cat is gone. I do not sag. I do not sigh. There’s no reason to believe they aren’t still watching.
But I do find a nice corner, lay down, and stare up at the stars.
It’s almost midnight. The fireworks will be starting soon. Sophia isn’t here, and I doubt she’ll show up. It was a vain hope, but I wanted to see her again. I wanted another chance to confess. I’d probably just chicken out like last time.
The clock ticks down. The light pollution removal is just a publicity stunt for Radiance—a purely mercenary act to garner goodwill—but I still appreciate it. I can make out constellations, though I only know a few.
Orion and his belt. Canis Major and Canis Minor. The Pleiades.
It’s incredible how many stars are out there. I wonder how many of them are host to other worlds, with other people gazing up at different skies. Before the Jovians came along, astronomers looked for planets in habitable zones around stars, a slim fraction of the universe, and picked out examples that might feasibly support life. But now magic is real. Could there be worlds out there born of magic? Planets that exist because a being like Hastur willed them to exist? How many? Humanity isn’t alone in the universe anymore. Maybe, when all this business with the egregores is settled, we’ll find out just how not alone we truly are.
It’s the kind of thing I know my friends find interesting, but I so rarely find it in me to care. What do other worlds matter when I can’t have what I want in this one? The stars are pretty, but they’re not Sophia’s smile.
Come on, Sophie. Make it. I want to watch the fireworks with you.
Midnight hits. The sky is filled with light. Colors and shapes decorate the night, replacing the beauty of the stars with human artifice. Sophia doesn’t show.
I sigh. I knew it was too much to hope for.
At least the aquarium will be nice.
The door opens and I hear footsteps approaching. My heart jumps and I clamber upright, whipping my head around to see who it is.
“Sup, A?”
Slouching by the entrance to the rooftop terrace is the gangliest beanpole of a woman I’ve ever seen. Square glasses over beady eyes, chewed lips stretched in an unsettling grin, and stringy hair that clearly isn’t being taken care of. Red sneakers, blue jeans, and a black leather jacket covered in pins for anarchist movements and nerd media in equal proportion. Atop it all, a pointy blue hat speckled with glow-in-the-dark stars that I know for a fact were glued on by hand.
It’s Mordacity.
“What the hell are you doing here!?” I ask in disbelief.
My best friend cackles maniacally. “I said I’d be here in January, didn’t I? And if you check your
cellular device,
I think you’ll find that it is January the 1st ON THE DOT! Nyeheheh!”
I roll my eyes, grinning despite myself, and saunter over. “You absolute clown.”
“Bitch, I’m the whole damn circus.” Mordacity holds out her fist and I bump it affectionately. As is tradition, she winces and wrings her hand as if I put any amount of force into the gesture.
“You little shit. You fucker. How did you even know I was going to be here?”
“A, this is your house.”
“It’s the apartment complex
around
my house, sure. Mord, we’re on the roof.”
“Yeah, okay.” Mordacity smirks. “Let’s call it an educated guess. We could also call it ‘I saw you leaning over the side while almost to the building,’ but that takes away from my stunningly good wits.”
I snort. “That’ll do it. Alright, you bitch, what’d you bring me?”
She raises a bushy eyebrow slowly and dramatically. “Bring you? What am I, your maid? You gotta pay to see me in the maid dress, A.”
I click my tongue at her. “Enough sass, henchwoman. We have a tradition to uphold and everywhere that sells booze is probably closed right now. Gimme.”
Mordacity chuckles and fishes a bottle of tequila out of her jacket. I have no idea how she made the bottle fit without bulging, but I can’t find it in me to be surprised when she follows that up with pulling out a whole lime. “I’ve got a knife for the lime but you’re gonna need to hold the bottle while I cut it.”
“You never disappoint,” I say with a sigh. My smile is warm.
We drink straight out of the bottle, passing it back and forth between us with exaggerated reactions and the faintest bit of mindfulness that this stuff is 40% alcohol and we probably shouldn’t chug the whole thing. We munch on the lime halves between “shots,” which adds a fascinating new dimension of discomfort to the experience. Mordacity loves food and drink that bites back more than anyone I’ve ever met.
There are chairs on the terrace, but we put our backs to the railing—Mord insists on calling it a parapet—and sit on the floor. Feels more natural that way.
“Damn,” Mord says after we finally set down the bottle and let the alcohol wash over us. “You ever wonder what Mars and Venus are up to?”
“Huh?” A bolt of panic and confusion cuts through the rising haze of tequila. She’s not talking about
them,
right? What—
“Y’know, Jupiter vanished, so you gotta think maybe it’ll happen to the other planets, right? Our cordial solar neighbors could be next, and then bam, whole system’s out of alignment. Gotta be fucking up gravity, yeah? Not like, gravity gravity, not our gravity, but like… the way everything tugs on everything else. Little changes in the tides and shit.”
I relax. “Right, yeah. Probably.”
“Or did you think I was talking about the egregores?”
My eyes go wide. Mordacity has the world’s most shit-eating grin plastered across her face. “How do you—wait, if the Jovians are—”
Mordacity waves a hand and laughs. “Those amateurs? Nah, they can’t hear you. Not while you’re with me, at least. I’ve got a privacy spell running. A twist of the veil, let’s call it.”
A spell. A twist of the veil.
“You have magic. You’re a magical girl.” My thoughts are racing through the fog and in annoyance I purge all the alcohol from my system so I can think clearly.
Mordacity has magic. My best friend has magic. How long has she been a magical girl? Why did she never tell me? Why didn’t she tell me when I told her I was a witch!?
“Nah, magical girls are cute but that ain’t my style.”
“Right, of course you’d be a witch.”
Wait, is she that witch who based all her familiars on
World of Warcraft
monsters? I heard that anecdote from Ferromancer, does Mord know Ferro?
“Also no.”
“What?” My train of thought decouples its engine. “What do you mean? If you’re not a magical girl then you have to be a witch, right? How else could you cast a spell? Bitch, if you are fucking with me then I swear to god I am going to fly you up to Rainier and leave you there.”
Mordacity cackles and rises to her feet. I follow her up, arms crossed, and then watch as she steps onto the half-wall and spreads her arms wide. “C’mon, A, everything you learned in the World of Glass and you still think magic is so damn
binary?
I’m not a magical girl and I’m not a witch ‘cause I’m not any kind of mantlebearer, A. Not a champion like your little girlfriend, either. I don’t answer to an egregore and I didn’t bargain with one of their pets. Nah, it’s not like that at all.”
She takes a step back and her foot stops midair, then her other foot after it. She stands on an invisible platform and snaps her fingers. A ball of fire flares to life in her right hand, and then her left shoots out and grabs something. She pulls a raven-headed staff out of thin air, twirls it once, and plants it on the invisible platform.
“I… am a motherfucking wizard.”

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4.8 December Discoveries