by Lucy Auburn
But no, it's not a possum, or a raccoon, or a giant well-fed rat. It's Penny, my favorite little kitty, her pointy little face staring at me as I crane my neck back to look at her. Settling down in the center of my back, she starts a purr that vibrates from her chest outwards, rumbling my whole center.
"How did you get here?" I ask her.
A question for the ages.
The answer may get me free.
Chapter 4
Just like dinner, breakfast is apparently a very pompous affair here at Chez Kidnapper. Loathsome wakes me early for it, unaware that I'm already sitting up in my bed and running my finger down Penny's spine over and over again, unbelievably happy to have a companion even though I have no earthly clue how she got here.
"Ellen! It's breakfast time. I made your favorite. Well," he amends, "I don't know your favorite, so I made everything, and you can pick." After a pause, he adds, "Don't try to stab me this time. And don't try to take my ring. You'll find it's far more firmly in place than it was before."
I don't want to think too hard about what that means. Shooing Penny, I push her under the bed and crouch down to look into her confused eyes.
"Stay here," I hiss at her, wondering if cats are capable of being trained, like dogs are. Maybe this one can learn things—she certainly knows fetch. "If you come out, the bad man might do bad things to you. We'll catch up later, and you can tell me how you got here, you little rascal."
She blinks at me, very slowly, which I take as a yes.
Calling out, "Just a minute," I scramble through the room, pick up my old clothes, strip the nasty purple silk dress off, and slide into my comfortable-if-stinky jeans and a T-shirt. If Lothario wants to complain that I'm not wearing a golden pile of taffeta to breakfast, well, he can shove it.
He doesn't complain, though. Just looks me over, holds out his arm, and escorts me down to breakfast. There are still claw marks on the side of his face—the least that he deserves after everything he put me through yesterday.
We make small talk, which is absurd. Apparently the weather is nice outside—not that it matters, since outside isn't really outside, just a part of this pocket dimension he's trapped me in. There are pancakes, waffles, eggs cooked every way, thick slices of ham, strips of bacon, and even a green fruit smoothie waiting for me at breakfast.
I'm not hungry for any of it.
I just want to go home.
But I shove little bites of food into my mouth and make compliant sounds to everything Loathsome says to me, mostly staring down at my plate. Occasionally I look up to study him, searching him visually to figure out where he might've put the ring. He's wearing a new yet equally black outfit today, with sheaths for weapons and a low turtleneck collar. At least half the sheaths hanging from his back and belt look like they have some kind of weapon in them, and I doubt they're all for little ol' me to take and use.
Licking my lips, I dare to ask, "Are you going somewhere? Those are... a lot of swords."
He grimaces. "Just a little walk around the grounds. There was... some kind of disturbance last night. A small one, likely no cause for concern, but sometimes things slip through from other pocket dimensions. I'll take care of it, no worries."
Ah. I have the feeling I know what the disturbance was, and where it came from: Penny, and Cain University. The question is how she got here, and if her route is big enough to fit a human as well as a small cat.
Maybe if I'm careful, I can sneak out into the woods and find whatever portal Penny came through.
I hear him leave through the front door. My stomach is in knots, and not just because I ate all the bacon—my kidnapper has no sense of portions, and I have no self-control. No, the nausea happening right now has everything to do with my plan to try to sneak out now, while the Black Serpent is looking through the woods for the disturbance he sensed.
Maybe it's dumb of me. After all, I might be better off waiting until later, when another chance arises to steal his ring. But I haven't figured out yet where he put it—there are so many options, from the pockets on his jacket to the elaborate sheaths on his back, or even somewhere in a boot. Wherever it is next, I won't see it unless he decides to teleport me somewhere or get naked in front of me, and I'd rather avoid both options.
No, the only way through this is to woman up and try to figure out where Penny got her tiny little butt through. Leaning down to stroke my fingers across her soft fur, I ask her, "Are you ready?"
She looks up at me and blinks contentedly.
"You're going to show me where you came from, right?"
The only answer I get is a mrrr-oooowww. Well, let's hope that something as serious as a crack between dimensions glows or some shit. I wouldn't know—I'm new to this whole magic stuff. But if Penny can bring me condoms at precisely the right moment just because it's what I want, hopefully she can tap into my wants other times.
Scooping her up, I hold her in my arms. She puts her little paws over my shoulder and stares back as I slip out into the hallway and towards the stairs—either she's watching my six or preparing to jump ship if I get caught.
Slowly but surely, I make my way down the stairs, listening for Loathsome with every step. No sign of him. Then, since it's the best way out the back—he gave me a very thorough tour of the castle, though he neglected to show me through the servants entrance—I go to the kitchen and slip through the doors.
As I walk out into the morning sun, I freeze, and carefully edge my way back into the kitchen, just behind the door. Lothario is outside, striding back and forth, a frown on his face. After a moment, though, he heads out into the woods, small as they are, searching for something.
I just hope that wherever he's searching is in the opposite direction of what Penny is about to lead me towards.
Tapping into a little bit of my powers, I reach out and brush up against the bright intelligence of her emotional energy. Then I put my little cat companion on the ground and send up a little prayer that this will work.
Take me to the crack in the dimension thing. Uh, where you came in. Ah, fuck, what do cat thoughts feel like? Bright. Shiny. Walked through.
She tilts her head, staring at me. I can't tell if I'm getting through or not—the concepts I'm trying to send to her are far more complex than stuff like escape or attack this dude. But after a moment, she seems to tap into whatever subconscious desires I have, just like that awkward evening in the arena. With a flourish of her fluffy tail, she turns around and trots in a straight line—thankfully, away from Loathsome's path.
I can't be one hundred percent certain that she understands what I want, but she seems purposeful. She barely deviates from her little focused kitty path, even though following her forces me to squeeze between trees close enough that they might as well be fucking. More than once I curse her for her ability to easily leap over a fallen log or zip through the shade, but soon enough we're there, at the edge of the woods.
The edge of the woods, of course, just lead to a dizzying mirror image of the same woods, and in the distance, the castle again. We've only walked for about ten or fifteen minutes at the most; the woods aren't big, but the castle is only visible past the trees because it's so ungodly large.
I don't see any door or glowing crack or cat flap anywhere, though. My heart sinks, and I frown at Penny.
"Well, where is it?" In a very cat-like response, she sits her little fluffy butt on the ground, brings her paw to her mouth, licks it, and delicately swipes the side of her face. "Stop grooming yourself. We're in a very small plot of land with an actual monster close by. If this isn't the way out, we've gotta get out of here, so point your little pink nose right at it."
Her eyes open, and I swear for a moment she's glaring at me like, human, you dumbass, you absolute fool, I have brought you what you seek and yet you dare to insult me. Why, I should leave you here in the woods to rot, but I will make it even more clear than it already is that I have done what you asked. Then, with a flourish, she stretches, walks a few tiny k
itty footsteps over, and shoves her precious little face through a bit of shimmery air I didn't see before.
Her face disappears, and suddenly I have a headless precocious cat as a pet. Then she steps back, and her head is there again, like it was never gone.
Experimentally, I wave my hand in the air. It goes through this wood and into the mirror wood, a slight disturbance in the air rippling across my skin. Then I kneel down and shove my hand through the shimmery, heat-like spot Penny just showed me—it disappears, a horrifying sight, only to reappear as I bring it back out again.
Trying a few other times, I discover, to my absolute horror, that the crack in dimensions is literally the size of Penny and barely even bigger. If she had a chonk of a tomcat for a boyfriend, she'd have to leave him behind, because this is strictly a Penny-shaped cat flap in space and time.
Penny blinks up at me, as if to say, hey bitch, why aren't you going through? Ass too big? Maybe you shouldn't have eaten all that bacon. Trust me to get the pet who's incredibly clever beyond all measure and also capable of fat shaming me. Bacon or no bacon, I'll never fit through that door.
Sighing, I scoop her to me and pet the top of her head. "It's okay. At least you came through. Maybe I can find a pen and paper, write you a note, and send you through."
I just don't know what I'd write—it's not like I have a clue where I am or what's happening. Even the stupid cell phone I barely know how to use has been confused ever since we arrived; it was the first thing I checked when Loathsome wasn't looking at me, and all it had to say was NO SERVICE and LOW BATTERY and ZERO TEXT MESSAGES.
If I tell Eve that I've been kidnapped by the Black Serpent and brought to a pocket dimension containing a replica of the Beauty and the Beast castle, she might get it, or she might just crumple it up and consider our rekindled friendship officially on the rocks again. I've got to figure out where I am if I'm going to get rescued.
Holding Penny up, I stare into her clever blue eyes and ask, "Do you know where we are?" A blink. "Longitude and latitude? Could you maybe lead someone through that flap? There's gotta be a student at Cain who can slip through a door that small. Maybe somebody with a Physical Affinity for folding themselves up into a paper airplane."
She mrrrowws, sounding unenthused, and wiggles in my hands impatiently. Sighing, I set her on the ground—and freeze, as the distinct feeling of being watched settles over my spine.
I was so busy trying to figure out this inter-dimensional cat flap thing that I lost track of where Loathsome was. But he's at my back now, and I can feel his disapproval like a heavy blanket.
Quickly, I whisper in Penny's ear, then push her little but through the cat flap towards Cain. I have no idea if she'll be able to communicate my message clearly, but maybe she can at least meow and bite people until someone follows her here.
Because I have the feeling I'm about to lose whatever freedom I have left.
"Ellen." I straighten up and turn at his voice, which is full of displeasure. "What are you doing out here? Why would you come this way?"
Calling on all my theater training, I do my best to look innocent and confused, cocking my head to the side. "I wanted to explore. It's so... interesting, the way the forest mirrors on itself. I thought maybe I'd see how big it is."
He narrows his eyes at me, advancing slowly. I can see the head of Grayson's cane peering over his shoulder, its stolen length in one of the loops of leather on the back of his coat that he uses to store weapons. The silver raven's head on the cane seems to be mocking me, its empty eyes reflecting the woods around us.
"You were trying to escape," Lothario accuses, guessing correctly. "After everything I've done, how comfortable I've made you, the exceptions I've made—you still try to run from me. Even though I've given you time to come around, it'll never be enough, will it? You'll turn from fate at every corner."
Clearing my throat, I venture, "Maybe if you explained to me what you knew about my father, so I could understand why me and not anyone else—"
"Enough. You're just delaying for time." He grabs my elbow and yanks me forward; mouth twisting, I resist, ignoring the way he glares at me. "Come with me, Ellen. Now."
I've had enough. This whole time, I've been trying to act in front of him, to push down my anger and frustration. I thought maybe if I could play the part, I'd increase my chances of survival and get information out of him.
But it hasn't worked. And more than that, I hate the way it makes me feel: small, insignificant, like I felt when Jack was still alive. That old Ellen wasn't weak—she was strong, because she had to be to survive—but I can't go back to being her. Not anymore.
Anger rises inside me. My eyes are drawn to Grayson's cane, so close it's practically winking at me. I look up at the Black Serpent as he turns his face towards the castle and pulls me forward, dragging me behind him as he sets off towards its hulking shape, no doubt planning on locking me in that dusty old bedroom he thinks is such a treat.
Well, I won't let him take me without a fight. Surging forward, I grab the heavy ball at the head of the cane and draw the sword from its black sheath. It's heavy in my hand, heavier than I expected or remembered.
The last time I held this sword, I clumsily stabbed at the Black Serpent and missed, giving him the opportunity to grab me and bring me to this godforsaken place. This time I won't hesitate when I see his face, or try and fail. He's so close I can't miss.
With a snarl of rage, I draw the sword down on his arm. The blade is sharp and heavy. It parts his black leather jacket and the cloth beneath with ease, biting into skin and muscle until red wells. The feeling of parting his flesh with a blade wakens something within me, that other Ellen who wants to fight and kill.
Powers or not, I'll do what I must to survive.
He lets go of my elbow and draws a sharp breath. I drop the sword to my side, its edge slick with red blood. Every beat of my heart thrums in my ears as I prepare myself for what's coming next: anger, blame, betrayal, revenge, maybe even tears. He'll lock me away, or hit me, or something. I'm not sure yet—I just know that I'm gripping the sword tightly, afraid what will happen when he takes it away, the head of Grayson's cane heavy in my hand.
Turning around, the Black Serpent looks at me, his face expressionless. A moment of bewildered confusion creeps into his eyes, and his brow furrows. Then he sighs, long and low, almost like a different person for a moment.
"I'm so tired." His voice is so quiet that I barely hear it. "I don't want to live this life anymore. I just want to pass it on to the next. Let me go."
The last three words aren't spoken to me, but to the world around us, as if the trees have eyes and the sky a voice. A strange and eery wind kicks up, rattling the leaves in the treetops, and a sense of foreboding settles in my chest.
Something here isn't right. This place isn't quite what it seems. And neither is the man in front of me—not that I'm going to stop fighting him. But for a moment, it's as if the version of him I've known so far was possessed, by madness and by fury, and all of it is drained away for the span of a few seconds.
The seconds pass, the wind dies, and the Loathsome I know returns. His face crumples into an expression of petulant rage, and he narrows his eyes at me, stalking towards me with his fists curled tight.
"Why do you insist on vexing me so?"
I grip the sword hard, backing up towards the edge of the woods. Maybe I can't fit through the tiny inter-dimensional cat flap, but if I run, I can make it to the flipped version of the castle and find a good place to make a stand with what little of my powers work here.
I refuse to let this be my life.
Even death would be better.
Raising my chin, I face off with the monster and tell him, "Come at me, bro."
For a moment my words seem to confuse him—modern slang doesn't seem to be a thing they taught Lothario—so I take his momentarily lapse in concentration to my advantage. Turning around, I brace myself and run straight towards the mirrored woods, hopin
g Penny got away safely.
I hear his feet leave the ground shortly after mine, and know that he's following me.
A heartbeat later, I'm almost there. At the edge of the woods. Near the mirrored version of this hellscape I can't escape from.
And he's right behind me, reaching out with a snarl, trying to grab me and pull me back in.
I kick up the pace, barely breathing, almost there—
Before I can reach the mirrored woods, an obstacle rises up between me and freedom, and I don't have time to hit the brakes.
I smack right into it and crumple to the ground.
Chapter 5
The doors. The goddamned fucking doors chose this moment, of all moments, to fuck with me. Just when I needed them the most, they weren't there. So of course they showed up right in front of me just as I was running faster than I've ever run.
Wetness trickles from my nose, and I reach up to discover that I've got a nosebleed. Great, just great—the last thing my face needed was a broken nose. Between this and the farting, I'll scare all men away, and sure maybe I want to be single, but it should be my choice.
Fucking doors.
They're warm and glowing, opening slowly.
Opening. Scrambling up, I back away from the doors as they swing wide, still somehow holding Grayson's cane sword tight in my hand. Loathsome is frowning at me from a few feet away, his eyes narrowed and accusatory, like he thinks I purposefully summoned the doors so I could smack face-first into them. But it wasn't me, that's for sure.
"What's this? What's going on? There should be no inter-dimensional portals occurring here." Comprehension dawns on his face, followed by outrage. "The disturbance! You took advantage of it."
I'm about to pretend like I understand what he's saying, and smugly take credit for this, when the doors finish swinging open and a figure prowls out from between them.
A very tiny, very fluffy figure.
Penny trots through the white light that spills from the doors, all casual and cat-like, looking very much like she caught, ate, and shit out the canary. I have to give her credit: my cat isn't like other cats. She's far weirder and more badass.
