Kyle wasn’t kept waiting much longer to be let back into the house. It was hard to say whether that was because her parents wanted her back in, or just because they had the deadline of her grandparents’ visit to waste all their time.
It was late the next day—before she’d heard back from Monday, even—that Mom and Dad appeared at her door again, both looking exhausted and smelling like paint thinner.
“Here,” Dad said, offering something plastic. “You’ll probably want this, for… later.”
She took it, and didn’t miss his twitch of discomfort as it lifted out of his fingers. An old baby monitor, probably the same one her parents had used for him and Kara long ago. “Put new batteries in it and everything. You’ll need it, because we’ve… finished with the empty wing. Well, as much as we can under short notice. It won’t be great living up there, but probably better than out here.”
She felt herself about to cry again, and fought back the instinct. She cleared her throat, turning away so he wouldn’t see. “That’s… great. Fay and I are eager to get back in.” She turned, going for her backpack by reflex. But there was no backpack anymore. She set the monitor down, and picked the baby up onto her back. “Guess we should go in and scout it out, huh?”
He stepped aside, eyes never leaving the baby. “If you think it’s safe, son. I don’t want… I don’t want anyone else suffering what you have. Are you sure that creature won’t attack again?”
No. She took a deep breath, resisting the urge to tell him off. That probably wouldn’t work out very well. “She might be the one who changes me back,” she said instead. “Keeping her happy is my only chance. If she hates me, she won’t fix this.”
“We talked about this,” Mom whispered, clinging to his arm. “Alan, we don’t have any other choice. There’s nowhere to send the baby.
“It isn’t human,” he responded, gritting his teeth together. “And it attacked my family. It isn’t getting any sympathy from me, no matter what it looks like. But…” He turned, walking away towards the house. “I suppose we’ll have to concede you’re caring for it, until better options present themselves. Come on.”
Kyle followed, checking to be sure Fay was okay after their discussion. She didn’t seem comfortable around Dad, though it was hard to say how much of that was a response to his attitude. Fay didn’t care for conflict, but at least she’d known better than to start crying just then.
“I guess I’ll come back for anything I need later.” She shut the door behind her, crossing the yard towards the house. They weren’t headed to the usual entrance, but past the dead maze and blank eyes of old statues.
Mom nodded. “It’s not pretty, but it should let you get in and out. Don’t take this the wrong way, but we focused on the ground floor. We don’t know how much you weigh, and this old house wasn’t built for livestock. We’re lucky your room didn’t collapse.”
“There’s damage to the floor all over,” Dad muttered. “But until we fix the damage to you, I’m not going to worry about that. Anyone who walks into the south wing is going to know something is wrong no matter what we do to try and hide you. Just… don’t make any noise you don’t have to.”
She nodded absently, not even hesitating. “Sure, I can do that. It’s not like I’d be running around. I don’t know how to get the same cooperation from Fay, though. She’s just a baby. If she’s going to cry, nothing I do will stop her.”
“You can take her outside,” Dad said. No hesitation, or even sympathy. But maybe it was wrong to expect that. Dad stopped by where a door had been painted over. They’d cut through it, and reattached a knob. Good thing she had her magic, or she wouldn’t be able to use it.
The brambles weren’t trimmed very well. They nearly caught dad’s jeans as he led the way inside. She had to be even more careful, and even then she felt the sting against one of her back legs as a thorn caught her. She stumbled once as she crossed the threshold, then stepped into the gloom.
The south wing had been built to house guests in total privacy and comfort, making it more like a secondary house attached to the first. In her own lifetime, it had been servants’ quarters, where the half-dozen family staff prepared their meals and spent their time off.
The kitchen inside was actually larger than the one they used, though it was also much older, without any gadgets or toys. An industrial deep freeze gathered dust against a wall, and old bulbs flickered. The ground had been swept, but most of the furniture was still covered with sheets. They don’t want me ruining any of it.
“We cleaned up the first bedroom, just down the hall,” Mom said. “There’s just a mattress on the floor—we weren’t sure if any bedframe could support you. Fridge is working, and the lights from here to the bathroom are working. We, uh… weren’t really sure what to do about that. Or what you’ve been doing.”
What horses do, mostly. She didn’t volunteer that information, though. Or want to think about it herself. She wasn’t sure a toilet would make much difference, but hopefully the shower was big enough. Maybe there was a tub she could use, like upstairs. “Thanks,” she said, ignoring the question. “For all this.” It hardly looked comfortable, yet she could see little signs they’d tried everywhere. Her school stuff was all on the kitchen table, and her TV was set up in the living room. There was even an old crib against the wall, and a few boxes with baby labels tucked beside it.
She was crying again. Her voice shook, and her legs wobbled. She levitated Fay onto the ground in front of her, so she wouldn’t get dumped by accident. Then she wiped her eyes with one leg, inhaling sharply through her nose before she spoke. It didn’t really help. “Th-thanks for doing all this… for me.”
Dad grunted. Mom was brave enough to reach out and touch her on the shoulder, if only briefly. “We’ll fix this, Kyle. Somehow. Just… give us a little more time.”
It didn’t matter how impossible a promise it would be to keep. In that moment, she almost believed it anyway.
But they didn’t linger, retreating towards the door almost as soon as they’d arrived. “Expect a visit tomorrow, early afternoon,” Dad said. “Be respectful and cooperative with whoever they sent. I don’t expect a solution so easily, but… we’d be fools not to take every possible option. Visiting your grandparents will be easier if there’s a cure.”
There isn’t, she thought, but she didn’t see any point to arguing. There wouldn’t be any convincing them, and some part of herself didn’t want to be convinced either. They might as well give it their best shot.
Kyle spent the next few hours following Fay around. She insisted on exploring the entire wing, or at least the bottom floor. She’d want to go upstairs too, and sooner or later she would have to acquiesce to those demands. But in the short term, she could get Fay to obey.
Eventually the baby got tired enough that she could set up the computer, and dig out her email client. Sure enough, there was a message waiting for her, from Monday.
It began with a plea for secrecy, reminding her of the terrible consequences waiting for her if she broke her promise. “When you swear to a Geas, it’s not something I’ll enforce if you break. It’s between you and fate, between your power and the universe listening to you. Remember the words you swore, and honor them.”
Yeah, I get it.
Then she finally reached the useful parts, and she stared in shock and surprise. What she found wasn’t anything like what she’d imagined. Not magic words and patterns to wave a wand around—this wasn’t Harry Potter. It was… a mental science, with precise patterns to be held in mind. Over the next few hours, she barely even noticed the sun going down in the window outside, reading with bated breath.
Maybe Monday was screwing with her, and it was all a lie. But if so, they were also an incredibly skillful writer. What she found here was internally consistent, even as it was unlike anything she’d seen in the rest of her life.
“You’ve probably already noticed some magical talent or another. Creatures like you usually have them. But you’ve got a human soul in there somewhere, so I’m going to assume you can still cast a proper spell. You’ll need a real spell if you ever want to really adapt.
They’d drawn a simple shape, like a sphere broken with jagged edges. Then they drew it again, this time expanding it to an entire screen’s worth. The shape was actually formed with little letters, an alphabet just like the one she’d drawn for the first “spell.” The diagram explained how to read each loop, working together to form a spell.
“Every bit of magic you write will have at least three of these. Target, power, and proof. I’ll explain each of them using a simple spell that most apprentices learn. This creates light, so it’s not likely to kill you if you get it wrong.”
She could only wish she’d had Monday in the room with her, to ask the questions this information suggested. The symbols weren’t English, why did they do anything? Where did the power come from? How was magic done before this new alphabet was discovered? None of that information was in there. For that matter, Monday didn’t even explain the meaning of any of the words, just summarized what a few sections of the spell did.
Then came the instructions, ordering her to cast the light spell herself. “Get it on video when you can make it work. Send me that, and I’ll know you’re ready for me. Sorry I have to take this in little bites, but I’m already sticking my neck out giving you this much. If anyone knew I was doing this… we’d both be screwed. Take a few days if you have to, and remember not to show this to any humans. Your promise will ruthlessly punish you for breaking it, and we haven’t even got to any of the interesting stuff.”
She sat back, staring at the screen and the baffling instructions on it. She wasn’t sure exactly how to do what Monday wanted, but that was still more than she’d had before.
I wonder who you are. Magic, but human. How does nobody know about this?
If the instructions worked, that probably meant all kinds of things about Fay’s origins she hadn’t considered. Some… secret magical underground. Maybe this was closer to Harry Potter than some secret genetics lab.
It was a lifeline, albeit a faint one. That was enough to keep her going for the moment.