The Rebellious Sister

by Sarah Noffke

  The men all froze, looking at one another.

  “What was that?” the middle man asked.

  Again the growl sounded, this time louder than before. One man stumbled back. Another clapped his hands to his ears to try to block out the sound of danger. The ringleader jerked around and ran for the corner where the streetlamps still worked, the others right behind him.

  Liv let out a breath of relief, grateful she didn’t have to bruise her hands on those men’s faces. She would have done it, and maybe she would have lost, but she wouldn’t have backed down.

  Turning to the shadow, Liv crossed her arms over her chest. “And here I thought you had abandoned me.”

  Strolling out of the dark with a smug look on his face was Plato. “I would never. I just thought I’d be more helpful to you if I wasn’t seen.”

  “Thank you. And smart thinking,” Liv said, glancing around. She pointed to a tiny house down the block. “I think that’s the place.”

  “How charming,” Plato said, looking the building over. It was nestled between an abandoned convenience store and a rusty warehouse.

  The house had held onto its claim in this mostly industrial area while the rest of the neighborhood had been overrun with buildings that looked like they were close to falling over. Although the small cottage had probably been cute back in the day, right now it was in need of fresh paint, and half of the porch looked ready to collapse. The street outside the cottage was dark, but light shone from the house, each window illuminated.

  Liv gazed at Plato tentatively. “Well, Hansel, ready to potentially become pie?”

  “Sure, and don’t worry, I won’t let that happen,” he replied calmly. “I’ve got your back.” Plato’s form flickered and he disappeared.

  Liv sighed. “Thanks, but it would make me feel better if you had stuck around after making that statement.”

  Although Plato didn’t answer, Liv knew he was there.

  She paused, looking up at the strangely ordinary house in its bizarre location. Okay, here goes nothing, she thought, suddenly feeling exhausted after the long day. Liv shook that off and climbed up the porch carefully, afraid she might fall through.

  Her hand was raised to knock on the door when it popped open a few inches and a green eye partially framed by curly brown hair looked down at her from up high.

  Rory pulled the door back all the way to reveal his large form, which was hunkered down to avoid hitting his head on the low ceiling. He looked out past Liv and shook his head. “Wayne and his friends are harmless. You didn’t have to frighten them off.”

  Liv looked over her shoulder before gawking at the giant. “He was harassing me. I was protecting myself.”

  “Protecting yourself is more about avoiding trouble than fighting your way out of it,” the giant said, stepping back and holding a long arm out to welcome Liv into the house.

  She stepped carefully over the threshold, expecting the house to open up into something grand like the House of Seven did, although it appeared to be a rundown shop on the outside. However, the cottage looked absolutely normal when she stepped into it. Actually, it looked like it belonged to a grandmother with its old, cushy furniture covered in hand-knitted afghans.

  On the walls hung oil paintings of horses grazing in green fields and kittens curled up in front of snow-flecked windows. The coffee and side tables were covered in ornate doilies, and on them stood dainty lamps with pastel shades.

  Liv looked around as Rory trudged into the living room, where the ceiling was a bit taller than in the entryway, allowing him to stand up properly. He took a seat in an armchair, making the springs groan.

  “Well, do you want a tour first or can we get started?” Rory asked, eyeing her skeptically as she studied the living room’s furnishings.

  Liv blinked at him in surprise. “You? You’re the one who is going to train me to use my magic?”

  “What were you expecting, a magician?” Rory asked.

  “Well, I just figured… I mean, I didn’t know. And you didn’t give me any information.”

  “And you no doubt wonder if a giant is good enough to teach you, a magician, how to use your magic,” Rory grumbled, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

  “I didn’t say that,” Liv protested. “I simply don’t know how this works.”

  Rory looked at her sideways, an uncertain expression on his face. “What about your parents? You would have gotten your magic from them. Why aren’t they offering to train you?”

  Liv gulped. “They are dead.”

  Rory nodded almost like he’d expected this answer. “And your other family? Grandparents, aunts, uncles?”

  Liv shook her head. “I don’t keep in contact with any of them.”

  Rory pursed his wide lips. “Something isn’t lining up about all this. You recently had your magic unlocked, but why? Usually, a magician doesn’t do that by choice. Did you get in trouble with the House of Seven or something?”

  Liv looked behind her at the door, wondering if she should just leave. The hostile undertones she was sensing from Rory didn’t really make her feel welcome.

  “What’s that on your hand?” Rory asked, standing suddenly, which made the floor creak loudly.

  Liv pulled her hand to her chest, covering the ring with her other hand. “It’s nothing. Just a ring I found.”

  Rory narrowed his eyes at her, holding out his giant hand in a demanding fashion. “Let’s see this ‘nothing’ ring you found.”

  Liv again considered bolting out of the small cottage, but that left her with only one option for training. Instead, she lifted her chin and proudly held out her hand. This was only going to work if she owned up to who she was, and instinctively she knew that.

  Rory’s gaze dropped, and he growled upon seeing the large ring. When he looked up at her, the expression of disapproval was heavy on his face. “You’re one of the Seven.”

  Liv shook her head but then corrected herself. “I am, but only as of last night. My siblings were recently killed, moving me into the position of Warrior. I decided to take the role, and they unlocked my magic so I can protect my family’s place within the House.”

  Again Rory growled, thundered back to the chair and taking a seat. “Why would you, a potential Royal, be living in a studio apartment and working for John? Why was your magic locked in the first place? Did you do something wrong?”

  Liv sighed. “Yes. I challenged the House, showing strong disapproval of how they handled my parents’ deaths. When I got fed up with the Institution, I abdicated my place within the House and because my family are Founders, they decided my magic should be locked if I was to go out on my own.”

  Rory nodded. “This is starting to make sense. The House would not want a powerful magician who shows tendencies toward rebellion to have magic.”

  “Well, it was my choice,” Liv argued. “I didn’t want anything to do with magic. I wanted to be as far from it as possible.”

  “Until now,” Rory stated.

  Liv let out a heavy breath. “I can’t run from who I am forever. Even with my magic locked, it still found ways of coming through.”

  Rory arched an eyebrow at Liv. “Are you certain of that? The House’s lock on a magician’s powers is strong.”

  Liv nodded. “Yeah, I figured I was just losing my mind, but Plato can attest that I’ve used it several times.”

  “I believe you,” Rory admitted. “I knew I sensed something magical about you before today.”

  “So, can you help me?” Liv asked. “I can’t have a repeat of today. I feel the energy of the magic flowing within me, and it’s taking everything I’ve got to keep it bottled up this evening. I feel like it might explode if I’m not careful.”

  The giant regarded Liv for a long moment and shook his head. “I don’t know. Helping a rogue magician get their magic under control is one thing. Helping a Warrior from the House of Seven is another entirely.”

  “I get that the House abuses their powers and set up a syst
em that mostly serves magicians,” Liv began. “My parents fought against many of those practices for years. I saw from an early age that the House created laws but didn’t serve justice. It’s not the same thing, and I guarantee I’m not like the rest of them.”

  “But you’re working for them now,” Rory replied coldly.

  “Yeah, well, I figured that if I didn’t like how they operated, I could be a part of the change,” Liv countered. She’d mostly been trying to save her family’s place in the House, but deep down she did want to take on her parent’s crusade. They’d tried to make a difference by changing how the House worked, and maybe they would have succeeded if they had lived.

  “And you don’t have any objections to being trained by a giant?” Rory asked after careful deliberation.

  Liv shrugged. “As long as you know what you’re doing and can help me, I don’t care who you are. The last thing I want to do is have to go to the House and accept their training.”

  Rory regarded her with a skeptical expression that made the lines on his forehead deepen. “Most magicians prefer socializing and training with other magicians. You live and work around mortals. You rejected a role most magicians would have killed for. And now you’re asking me, a giant, to train you. Why are you so different, Liv?”

  “I abdicated because I was tired of watching magic mess up everything in my life,” Liv began. “I didn’t trust it. And I do trust mortals because with them, what you see is what you get. I don’t care if you’re an elf or a centaur or whatever. If you can help me, then that’s what matters.”

  “You are one strange magician.” Rory rose from his chair and lumbered through an open doorway to a bright kitchen.

  “Ummm, what does that mean? You’ll train me?” Liv called.

  “I’m going to attempt to train you,” Rory said from the kitchen, making a lot of noise. “But before we begin, there’s something you need.”

  A moment later Rory returned carrying a plate of meat and cheese.

  Liv eyed it with hesitation when he set it on the coffee table.

  “Go on and eat up,” the giant said.

  “Wait, what I need is meat and cheese?” Liv questioned.

  Rory nodded. “Doing magic when you’re hungry and tired is a recipe for disaster, and using magic will deplete your reserves fast, so keep something to eat on you at all times. It’s also important that you always get as much rest as possible.”

  Liv picked up a piece of meat, cutely rolled up and pinned with a toothpick. She took a bite, enjoying the savory flavor as she looked around at the strange living room. “Thanks. Has anyone ever told you that you remind them of their grandmother?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Liv’s mouth dropped open when she followed Rory into his backyard. The lights from the house and the flames from a firepit made the yard visible. The oversized lawn was bordered by lush shrubs and towering trees that blocked out the view of the warehouses and the dirty alley. Row after row of flowers burst with color in the overflowing beds. Fruits and vegetables filled the boxes in the middle of the yard, and on the patio was a yellow swing, the firepit, and a hammock.

  “I was wondering where you’d magicked your house,” Liv said, looking around the pristine yard.

  Rory regarded her incredulously. “This isn’t magic. I built every inch of this garden. Although I use magic to enhance parts of it, this was mostly done with hard work.”

  Liv looked at various sections of the yard again, not believing that it was all real. “Wow. You did all this?”

  “Magicians prefer to use magic to create their homes, enhancing every aspect so that it deceptively looks like something else. They aren’t happy with dwellings that are in fact small. Instead, they fit a mansion into a bungalow or change something perfectly normal and fine into something outrageous, just because they can’t accept the way things are. They are never happy with mediocre or simple.”

  “Well, by definition, mediocracy isn’t something most strive for,” Liv argued, although she didn’t disagree with everything Rory had said. Still, she needed to play the devil’s advocate. Always.

  “Enjoying things the way they really are is an art form,” Rory countered. “Magicians get in trouble for over-enchanting their houses or revving up their cars until they are dangerous, or using too many youth potions on their faces. It’s rare for a magical creature to get in trouble for one of these crimes.”

  “So this garden…” Liv asked, reaching out and touching a soft hibiscus flower.

  “I created it on my own, digging up the beds, putting in the plants, and tending them every single day,” Rory stated.

  “With little or no magic?” Liv questioned.

  He shrugged. “I’m all for making my life easier with magic, but what you see is real. Also, I do most of the chores myself. There’s something honest about doing things without magic. Being overly reliant on it is dangerous.”

  “Why gardens?” Liv asked, noticing a pair of reflective eyes she recognized somewhere in a shrub.

  “Giants and many other magical creatures feel most at home in a garden or forest,” Rory explained. “Many of my ancestors fought the movement that we should have proper homes instead of living in the woods. However, the House of Seven pushed back for many years, and now most people I know live in a house and pretend to be mortals instead of embracing our ways.”

  This wasn’t a part of the history that Liv had been taught. Her history books said that the House had saved many magical creatures from famine and disease by educating them on the ways of sophisticated living. How many times had she heard that it was magicians gifting giants with the technology of plumbing and electricity that had helped save their race?

  “So how will this magic training work?” Liv asked.

  “Magic is the same as any of your senses,” Rory began. “It can be passive, like when you stroll through the garden and smell a rose. Or it can be active, like when you’re on the hunt for a ladybug and must use your eyes to find it. However, unlike your other senses, magic is tied to your emotions, and if you don’t have a handle on those, it will overwhelm everything.”

  “Okay, handle on emotions,” Liv stated. “I can do that. What’s next?”

  Rory shook his head. “No, first we practice that, then we move onto honing your magic skills. Right now you probably don’t know how to use your magic to make a cup of tea, but if you first conquer your emotions, doing the hardest spells will come naturally.”

  “Well, should I stretch out on this hammock so we can have a therapy session?” Liv asked.

  Rory pointed to an empty flower bed. Beside it, a shovel materialized, then a pair of gloves. “I want you to dig a hole.”

  Liv held up her finger, trying to remember the spell for digging. It was stuck far back in her memory; too far back for her to recall with the giant scowling at her.

  Rory wrapped his large hand around Liv’s, covering her fingers, wrist, and part of her arm.

  She looked up at him in confusion. “Am I not supposed to use a spell to dig the hole? I guess there are other magical ways to do it.”

  “There are, but I want you to use a nonmagical one.”

  “What?” Liv asked. “You want me to dig a hole by hand?”

  Rory nodded and swung into the hammock, which was oversized. He looked like a large man-baby in a swing. “Get to it. We don’t have all night.”

  Liv pulled her phone out of her back pocket and eyed the time. “I actually only have an hour or so before I’m due at the House.”

  Rory pointed to the pile of dirt. “Then get digging.”

  Liv grumbled as she pulled on the gloves and picked up the shovel. The tool hardly made much progress as Liv dug it into the soft dirt. She looked back at Rory with a questioning look. “Where do you want me to put the dirt?”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter.”

  Liv nodded and tossed the dirt in his direction.

  He crouched, fanning away the dirt the wind car
ried over to hit him in the face. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Well, next time you might want to be specific, magic instructor,” she said, pitching the shovel into the dirt and then emptying it a few feet from the hole.

  “Are you certain you’re not just trying to get free labor out of me?” Liv asked after a few minutes.

  The giant eyed her and then the hole. “Believe me, if I wanted free labor, I’d pick someone with a bit more muscle than you. As it is, I’ll be here all night waiting for that hole to be dug.”

  “How deep do you want it?” Liv asked.

  “Deep enough.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Again, I fail to see how this is supposed to help me with my magic.”

  “It’s about control, little Grasshopper.”

  She brought the shovel around and tossed its contents in Rory’s direction again. With a flick of his wrist, the dirt flew back at Liv, hitting her in the face.

  Rory laughed at this, making a booming sound as his face transformed.

  “Hey, you don’t look like such an ogre when you laugh,” Liv observed.

  “And you look like a bride fit for a troll with that dirt on your face,” Rory said, still laughing.

  Twenty minutes later, when the hole was several feet deep and wide, Liv spun around to face Rory, who was snoring. “Hey, is this deep enough yet?”

  He cracked open one eye and sat up more. “Yeah, that will do.”

  “Okay, now what?” she asked.

  Rory flicked his finger at the hole, and all the dirt rose into the air and refilled it.

  “Wait! Why did you do that?” Liv yelled, her face flushing with heat. The fire in the pit next to the swing flared, her vision was momentarily covered in red, and the sounds in the garden were amplified.

  “Dig the hole again,” Rory insisted.

  “What? That’s insane!”

  “Dig the hole again,” he repeated

  “But—”

  “That’s an order,” Rory said. “If you don’t like it, leave.”

  Liv cursed under her breath, pulling the gloves on tighter. Her hands were already sore from digging, and her back ached. Digging the hole was probably one of the hardest things she’d ever done physically, which was proven by the sweat pouring into her eyes.