Shattered Pentacle

by Starscribe

Chapter 7

Lyra hesitated at the threshold, balling one hand into a fist. Her other reached into her purse, wrapping tight around the barrel of her borrowed gun. No ammo left. It used up its only tank. She released it just as quickly, eyeing the cat beside her. “Is it...”

“No one else is there,” the cat whispered, though maybe that was just her imagination. Could a cat even whisper? “You should be able to feel that. Open up your eyes and feel the pulse of the living world, Lyra. The heartbeat... it sounds within all things.”

She did. She wasn't sure exactly how—truth she had learned, memories of tower and jungle and the strange creatures that spoke there. She could whisper in their words.

The world answered. Suddenly there was her—there was a cat, and the presence that it carried. Then there was... more. Wings caught the air, thousands of teeth gnawed, paws scurried. She wobbled, pushing it all aside. Those little things were not what frightened her.

Her own size, there were—others, in the buildings on either side. Children, their parents, sitting around a breakfast table. On the other side, a single older man, still in bed. Then her home.

Only one life was inside, so faint she'd almost missed it. A single, struggling heartbeat. It might not be beating for much longer if she didn't do something.

“What did I tell you?” the cat said, his voice smug. At least that emotion was familiar for a cat. Lyra shoved the door open, then slammed it closed behind her. She locked each of the several different deadbolts and security bars—all Bonnie's idea, but needed now more than ever.

Not that mechanical locks could keep out someone like Tempest. If she knew who I was...

Lyra couldn't think about that now—all that mattered was finding her girlfriend. Or reaching her, since her supernal senses told Lyra exactly where Bonnie had ended up. There, curled against the kitchen table, in a pool of blood. Bandages wrapped around her, tied inexpertly—they were all soaked through. Only the tourniquet worked, wrapped so tight around her damaged left arm that the flesh was gray and sickly.

“Bonnie? Sweetie?” She dropped down beside her, stomach turning in her chest.

A long time ago, before she first tasted blood, Lyra might have recoiled in horror from such a scene, and fled before she could offer any help. What was she supposed to do for someone so far gone?

“L-Lyre?” She opened one eye. Bonnie groaned, body spasming. She reached for something on the floor—a fallen first aid kit. “Y-you... weren't... thought you would...”

I was supposed to be home to help you.

She rushed to her side, smearing blood over the floor. “Hospital!” she exclaimed. “I only know first aid! I was in the girl scouts, not the marines!”

“C-can't. People... kill me.”

“The flame still burns in her. When it fades, no magic you wield might rekindle it.” Capper circled around the table, pawing gracefully over the smeared blood. He stood behind her girlfriend's broken body, alert. The mockery and humor was gone from him now.

“How?” Lyra demanded. She took hold of her girlfriend, pushing her back down. What little she did know about first aid was that one should never, ever move the injured without proper knowledge.

“Too late,” her girlfriend gasped. “I'm... just hoped... see you again.”

A lie, Lyra thought. Her girlfriend believed it—the whole world did. The world was wrong.

“Rest,” she whispered. Not just words—she spoke to the cells, the brain, her girlfriend's whole being. “Sleep now.”

She did, collapsing against the kitchen floor. Where she wouldn't see whatever came next.

“Like what I did with Akiko's leg,” she guessed. “It's the same thing. She needs to heal.”

“A start,” the cat agreed.

She closed her eyes, and felt the heartbeat of the world. There was so little power left in her—tenuous links trailed thin, fraying at the edges. She'd used so much with Akiko, if only she knew what was coming.

“No stumbling, illiterate mess,” Capper commanded. “Repeat after me instead. Speak these words of power.”

She did. Lyra touched one hand over Bonnie's chest, where it was entirely soaked with blood. She said the words, though she didn't know the language. Capper gave her the meaning. “Long shadows hang heavy over the water. The water is gray, the fish languid and sickly. No more. Flow again first river. Roots reach deep, the creeping things eat and purify. Hearts beat, and red flows. From sun to leaf to flesh to soil again. Now the fish are numerous, the beaver labor at their dam. The wolf stalks in the brush, fat from rich hunting.”

It was language as Lyra had never known it—the meaning of whole sentences in single complex syllables. This wasn't just another tongue, taken from another culture. These were the words the universe was written in—words of command.

Spectral grass appeared beneath her, covering the blood, spreading over the wounds. The heartbeat of the world echoed in her ears again, louder than before. It demanded to be heard, so loud it shook the walls and the building beneath her.

“It's not enough,” she realized, once it was already moving. Magic roiled in her hands, pressure expanding and demanding to be released. She couldn't hold it for long—and it wouldn't be enough. “I need more...”

“Mana,” the cat said. “This is a good lesson. Mana resides within, Lyra. It forms every tissue, every bone. Borrow it.”

Borrow it from... there. His words were a key. There was more, if she was bold enough to take it. Her own flesh overflowed with it. For any other cause, she would've turned away. But not now.

She shuddered, feeling weakness overtake her. Her breathing became labored, and the exertion of the day suddenly pressed harder on her. But as her body weakened, possibility flooded her again. A great outpouring, more than enough to serve for a spell like this.

She released the pressure building between her fingers, into her wounded girlfriend beneath her. Something clattered out onto the ground at her feet—bullets. What she'd done for Akiko might be the same practice—but compared to this, her first attempt was barely a warmup. Bonnie was scarcely alive anymore, might not be in a few minutes.

Slashed skin closed, ruptured organs sealed shut. Pale new skin grew over what was torn and ruined. Gray flesh on her left arm turned deep red and swollen, and the tourniquet cable snapped.

Then Lyra's mana ran out. She collapsed atop Bonnie, barely breathing herself. When she reached for more power—none came. Her body had no more left to give.

She wasn't sure how long she lay there, soaking in her girlfriend's blood. Did she sleep, or only collapse from the shock?

Regardless, something did change. A paw touched her head, nudging her to alertness. She blinked, then sat up. The kitchen was back to normal—no ghostly grass or heartbeat or any other touch of the Supernal.

Except for one. Her girlfriend, with closed wounds and a beating heart. “Not bad. She's gonna be feeling that when she wakes up. But thanks to you, she will wake up.”

Lyra nodded weakly. “I guess I should... wash this off. Get her cleaned up.”

Her familiar pawed away from her through the kitchen. “The sleeping soul recoils from the sight of supernal flame. But give it an excuse, an avenue to believe that the Lie remains, and it will readily accept.”

Lyra ran one hand through Bonnie's hair. Tangled and matted with blood and oil, maybe something else. What were you doing last night? “Which means?”

“Dress her wounds. Clean your home. Give her reason to believe that her injuries were not as severe as she imagined. She will soon remember that truth instead. Make a show.”

“Or I could tell her the truth,” Lyra countered. Her girlfriend was still asleep—she still felt the compulsion on her. Somehow, Lyra's magic remained. How long it would last, she didn't know. “Imagine how happy she'll be. Whoever she's working with... probably get into all kinds of danger. Now they've got a friend who can help.”

The cat laughed again. He circled around her once, before settling down on a single clean patch of kitchen floor. “Your senses are dull yet. You don't feel it. I can.” He pawed at Bonnie's arm, where her jacket was slowly turning brown from dried blood. “Your kind did this. Pentacle or the other... I don't know. I suspect she would not care about the difference if you told her.”

Lyra stood, surveying the damage to her apartment. Blood everywhere—knocked over furniture, where Bonnie had stumbled in, then searched for the huge first aid kit.

Her girlfriend wasn't exactly easy to move around. If Lyra had more of that invisible mana, there were probably ways Lyra could make herself stronger. As it was, she had to rely on patience, leverage, and frequent breaks. She carried her girlfriend to the bath—cut away at her damaged clothes, then cleaned her in warm water.

All the while, she expected her stamina to finally fade, and for her to collapse into unconsciousness, but somehow she never did. She dried her, carried her to the bed. After that came the lie.

She tied fresh bandages where the old ones had been, dabbing a little blood onto the cloth to make it look convincing. She scattered the first aid kit all over the floor, dumping out some of the hydrogen peroxide and spilling it on her fingers.

When she finally made her way downstairs, Lyra found... nothing. No blood, no stains on the wood, just toppled furniture, and a few dented bullets.

“W-what...”

“I may've helped with this one,” said Capper, lounging on her bookshelf. “But the magic was yours, not mine. All that work to clean up, hide the evidence... now it's gone. No blood, no flesh. Only the physical remnants.”

Lyra bent down, scooping up the bullets and running her fingers over them. “You can do that? Cast spells for me?”

“Not exactly, no. Glad you're getting comfortable with the concept, though. Spells. Another barbarian word. Magic used to be so much more. You're a sapling growing into a mighty wind, Lyra. Once there were forests, their trunks so vast that we could ascend to the heavens on their branches. Now... this. The Lie. You shouldn't have to lie to the ones you love. But if you did not, she would kill you.”

“She wouldn't.” Lyra's weakness remained. She ached, and probably would for days to come. But if Bonnie was still breathing, she would accept the pain. “She disobeyed her orders to save me once before. She rode out the withdrawal for weeks.” Was it weeks? It felt like lifetimes, strapped to a plain wooden table in the basement. Screaming, swearing, threatening, clawing—until it ended.

“Maybe. But know this—the pentacle is watching. At this moment, they study you. Are you a wild and untrustworthy new willworker, who demands a short leash and high convent walls? Or are you trustworthy and reliable? Can you follow the rules, prove your discipline, and keep your old life?”

“Walls can keep me trapped?”

“They can now.” He hopped down, landing on the sofa beside her leg. “You can't fly as a bird, scramble over the rocks with delicate paws. You can't hide and creep as a mouse. Your knowledge of the Arcana is impressive for your age, but it is a pale and feeble thing. Do not fight the pentacle—they are old, and some are wise.”

“So do everything they say?” she argued. “Listen to them the way I used to obey Ventus? Not as evil, but still...”

“You aren't a slave,” Capper said. “You already broke their rules today, in some ways. Healing one with knowledge of the Mysteries—some would say she should be allowed to die, for the safety of the pentacle.”

“Not you, though. You helped me.”

“To live is to grow, Lyra Harper. To grow is to improve. Your girlfriend—Bonnie—she's still growing. I take no joy in salted soil and dying flowers. Even if they do no more than bloom, this may be enough. Their likeness brings joy to the gardener. Their thread may be small, but still there is a place in the Tapestry for them.”

Lyra nodded. It was all she could do—wet tears streamed down her face, and her body shook with sobs. She wasn't exactly sure what had held it back all this time—but now the floodgates were open.

She scooped the cat into her arms, and cried like a little girl. Cried so long that the sunlight faded from her kitchen window. Cried until she heard a frightened, confused voice from upstairs. “L-Lyra? Lyra, are you there?”

Her girlfriend was awake.

Comments

[FanOfMostEverything]

Ah. Now the true test begins. It's one thing to tell reality to shut up and listen. It's another to lie to your beloved's face. As we've seen, even Bonnie can't maintain complete confidentiality with Lyra. We'll see how this goes.