2.9 For Yuri, I Build a Better Monster

The bank interior bears the soot marks from my flame and upended furniture from the speedsters. The crystal chandelier, that eyesore, is miraculously unharmed. Canary is still down for the count, Azure still encased. The teller I spoke to taps away on her phone. The audience outside watches with their own phones out and recording.

Blood drips down my back from where Amaranth tore off one of my wings, and the magical girl in question circles me like a predator, smiling. I’m cold, I’m tired, and I’m on edge. This fight hasn’t been as clean as I wanted it to be, and even with only one enemy left I’m not certain it’ll end in victory.

Amaranth sees the look on my face—exhausted, resentful, wary—and says, “Aw, you don’t like me as much now, do you?”

Pull yourself together, Rachel. Play the game. Follow the rules. I do my best to wipe away my downtrodden expression and replace it with something charming and cheerful. “Oh, I think that remains to be seen. I’ll like you plenty when you’ve joined your friends on the ground.”

Amaranth laughs from behind me, and then she’s in front of me and her expression turns serious. “Hey. Is Azure going to die if she stays in that stuff?”

“The foam is breathable,” I assure her. “Unless she bites her tongue and chokes on her own blood, I can’t see her dying. I have no intention of starting a pattern with your team.”

“Good, good.” Amaranth rolls her shoulders. “Okay, one more for the crowd.”

I’m already moving when she blurs into motion, but of course even my reflexes at their best can’t compare to someone whose whole power is speed. Amaranth uses her body as a weapon to a far greater degree than either Canary or Azure: fists and feet, elbows and knees, even what feels like a headbutt tossed into the mix.

Still, I fight through the pain—stumbling this way and that but keeping my footing—and bring first a bomb bat into being, then another foam payload arrowhead, ready to deploy whatever mix of tactics is necessary to defeat my final opponent in this duel.

Amaranth stops her assault standing right beside me, leaning in so her mouth is right next to my ear, and she whispers, “Have you had the dream?”

I’m caught so off-guard by her question that I don’t activate either of my contingencies. “What dream? What are you talking about?”

Then she’s behind me, and I whirl to face her. Her domino mask hides her eyes, but somehow I feel an intense stare boring into me. “The dream. The dream. Have you had it? Focus. Listen. In the dream, there is a city of bleached white stone beneath a bleeding sun, and beneath the city is a deep, dark pit—a pit that might be Hell.”

She’s insane. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I haven’t—”

A headache comes on so suddenly and sharply that it nearly blinds me, and I clutch my forehead and cry out. What just happened? Why does my head hurt like this?

Amaranth giggles like a schoolgirl and claps her hands over and over. “Yes, yes, yes, I knew it! Oh, this is the best news!” She leans in again, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone as she says, “Azure and Canary, they don’t get the dreams. But I knew you would, and now I know I was right. You’ve had the dream, you just don’t remember it. But you will. Keep a dream journal and you’ll remember it faster. Don’t try lucid dreaming, though. Trust me. And whatever you do, whatever you do, don’t go into the pit.”

I’m more confused than I’ve ever been. Is this girl just fucking with me, or are we actually sharing a dream that I can’t remember? And why me, and not her teammates? “How did you—”

“I could see it in your eyes,” she confides. “They’re very pretty eyes. Maybe, next time we meet, I’ll let you see mine. Let’s do this again, Archon. It was wonderful to meet you.”

What? She’s talking like—and she’s gone. And so is Canary, and so is Azure. All three magical girls, gone from the bank with only debris to mark their passing.

I think, technically, I just won my second fight as a witch. But it doesn’t feel like winning.

I flex the slowly-regrowing stump of my torn wing. This was a victory. Don’t let anything distract from that truth. Whatever Amaranth’s strange ramblings meant, it can wait until later.

I return to the teller window and knock on the glass. “Heroines are gone. And I didn’t break your chandelier. So, can I get my money now, or am I going to have to start burning everything that looks expensive?” I project that last part as loudly as I can, figuring that some camera in the room is probably recording audio. Corporate would rather lose a bit of their vault than have to replace everything else in the bank, right?

The teller looks up from her phone, looks across the battle-damaged lobby, and sighs. “Yeah, yeah. Be right out.”

With that taken care of, all that remains is working the crowd. I leave a few familiars behind to keep the bank honest and stride out to meet my future adoring public. A few dozen civilians, all with their phones out and recording or liveblogging the scene. I’ve seen this scenario a hundred times from the other side, but never in front of the camera. I should be shy, but all nervousness has left me.

“I hope you enjoyed the show,” I say to the crowd, bowing deep and spreading both wings—the injured one still not finished regrowing, but I figure that adds to the effect. “My name is Archon, and this is just the beginning of what I’m planning. Please, look forward to my future endeavors! I promise to give this city as much entertainment as I can—for that is the purpose of a witch, is it not? Keep your eyes on me, Forks. You won’t regret it.”

I strike a few different poses for the audience, letting them take as many pictures as they want, but I ignore any comments or questions. That can come later. For now, in this moment, I revel in my second victory. Who cares if it turned strange at the end, I still won!

I proved myself. To the ordinary people gawking at me, to the witches that are now my peers, and to the magical girls that have become my enemies. To Ferromancer and Bombshell, who helped me come this far. And, I hope with all my heart, perhaps Strix Striga will watch my fight and take an interest.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I want everyone to take an interest. I want all their attention. But more than anyone, I still want Sophia’s attention. And I’ll get it. I’ll do whatever it takes.

My familiars pick up the spoils of my victory and together we fly away from the bank, over the city skyline, and to the agreed upon rendezvous point in a secluded corner of the city. Ferromancer is waiting for me, as I expected, but so is someone unexpected: Pandora, the Jovian that gave me my powers and introduced me to my teacher. The alien cat sits beside the witch, inscrutable as always.

Ferromancer lets out a long drag of smoke and eyes my loot. “I take it the gig went well,” she comments, leaning on a back alley wall next to another of her magic doors. “All that training pay off?”

I grin. “Took down the Blurs, got my haul, and by evening the whole city should know my name. I’d call that a success.” I get serious for a moment. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Ferromancer. Thank you. I know you have your reasons, but it really does mean a lot to me.”

She waves me off. “Just don’t go making me regret all the effort I spared, yeah? Keep winning and we’ll call it square. Now send your familiars inside and I’ll get you set up and properly laundered. Never hurts to give the veil a helping hand.”

Ferromancer opens the door to her workshop and I do as she says, sending the familiars inside. She follows with another wave, and then it’s just me and the cat.

“So,” I start, and then I realize I don’t really know what to say.

“Congratulations,” Pandora purrs. “Was it everything you hoped it would be?”

I laugh and scratch my head sheepishly. “You picked right. There’s more about this lifestyle that I crave than… well, I guess I never really thought any of this was possible before you approached me. I wasn’t alive, just a zombie on autopilot. But now things are different. So… everything and more, kitty cat. I’m in this game to stay.”

“Excellent, very excellent. As a representative of the sidereals, I’m pleased to hear that my instincts were correct when I selected you to join our enterprise. I’m certain you’ll be quite the investment, Ms. Archon.” The strange alien cat has such a business-like way of speaking, all proper and corporate. I wonder how much of that is an affectation to fit my preconceptions, and if so, what’s the purpose? But maybe I can’t hope to understand an entity from so far away and such different origins. What are those origins, I wonder?

“I’m glad I’ve held up to your standards,” I say instead. “It’s my fervent wish to repay that investment as best I can. I hope today was a good start to that.”

“Oh, yes,” the cat nods, “though of course the Blurs are ultimately a rather minor element in this region’s greater conflict. We encourage you to practice against their kind as much as you need to, but do keep in mind the reason we chose you in particular.” Pandora tilts its head. “Though, I suppose it’s unlikely you’d ever forget.”

Striga, Striga, Striga.

Sophia.

“I know. I won’t forget. And I won’t rest on my laurels. It’s a long road to standing against the greatest magical girl on the continent, but it’s one I’m happy to walk. I will beat Striga. I’ll perfect every technique in my arsenal, and when I’m ready I’ll make sure I’m the only witch she ever pays attention to again.”

Pandora makes an amused noise and flicks its tail. “That’s just what we want to hear, Ms. Archon. I think you’ll go very far in this organization. We’re counting on your success.”

“But hey, no pressure,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “Is that all you came here for, Pandora? Or was there something else?”

“Well, checking in on your progress is important. You should also know that our arrangement with Ms. Ferromancer has come to an end; you are encouraged to make use of her services, but further assistance will have to be negotiated with her directly.”

I wince. That’s… about what I expected would happen, but still a rough blow. Ferromancer is smart, and fun, and I’ve really enjoyed spending time with her. I don’t exactly know how I feel about her, and obviously she’s no Sophia, but… I don’t want to stop being around her.

“Ah, and there is one other detail,” the cat adds. “A certain matter will be taking my attention away from Forks for a small number of weeks. It’s unfortunate, but sadly necessary. I’ll check in again when I return, but if you have anything else you’d like to ask, now would be the time. Do you have any questions for me?”

Immediately, Amaranth’s dream comes to mind. My dream, if that’s what the strange headache meant. Even now I get a pang of pain just thinking about it. That has to mean something, and if anyone knows what, it would be a Jovian. And yet.

I like to think I’m not an idiot, or a rube. I know I’ve signed up for some sort of Faustian bargain, dealing with the sidereal Jovians. I joined the dark side and became a witch, and the kinds of entities that make deals like that can’t be trusted. I can’t trust Pandora, no matter how grateful I am for the power it’s given me.

I hesitate, and that’ll make the cat suspicious if I don’t have a question, so I ask, “How am I meant to beat Striga? I know I sounded confident a second ago, but… she’s never been beaten. She mows down witches like they’re nothing to her. How do I beat that?”

“I’m sorry,” Pandora apologizes, “but I don’t have a good answer. If we knew a ready solution for the Striga problem, we would have deployed it already. Striga seems to be the natural enemy of witches, and the only thing that’s ever worked against her is starting trouble in more places than she can respond to at once. You are a gamble, Ms. Archon. To be perfectly honest, we’re hoping your familiarity with the subject will lead to finding a solution we’ve somehow missed.”

Oh, good, the magical alien cats are just as clueless as I am. Joy. Well, at least that gives me a way to earn my keep. Assuming I can actually solve the Striga problem, that is. “I guess I should have seen that coming,” I sigh. “Well, good luck with whatever it is you’re off to do, I know you probably can’t tell me. And thanks again, cat.”

“Best of luck yourself, Ms. Archon. I look forward to our next meeting.”

The cat pads off, leaving me alone in the alley. I wait out there, too awkward to step inside Ferromancer’s workshop even though I’ve been in a dozen times before.

It’s fine. This arrangement was always temporary. I shouldn’t get worked up about it.

When Ferromancer comes back out, I haven’t quite dismissed my awkwardness. “Hey,” I greet her. “So, uh. Pandora told me that the contract or whatever is over. I’d really like to keep working with you, but, I understand if that’s not in the cards.” I bite my lip, agonizing over my words, and then I blurt out, “You know so much about magic and I just—”

Ferromancer holds up a hand and I stop. “Come inside,” she tells me.

I follow her inside. What’s going on now? The workshop looks like it always does, though with a handful of my familiars standing around divested of their loot.

She leads me to the break room, pours a glass of water for each of us, and sits on the sole table in the room, ignoring all the chairs. She looks me up and down, her gaze piercing and almost unsettling. I haven’t seen her like this before. No, that’s not quite accurate; she’s in her cold, calculating persona, the face I only saw that first day at the presentation.

“Ferromancer?” I ask nervously. “What’s up?”

She takes a sip of her water. Sets it down. Watches me. And then, cold and focused, she asks me, “Why do you want to be the one to take down Striga?”