A Maze of Glass, Chapter Seven, Pt. 4
Silver-white bright shafted in from the skylight. The air hummed with magic, so much energy sizzling in the room that even the numbest sixth-sense would recognize it. Her wrists bound with silk, the real restraints mystic in nature, Jill sat on the Confessor’s end of the table. Wearing an executioner’s hood and the closest thing they had to ‘traditional armour’ (a Kevlar vest), Zoe stood behind the armchair on the opposite side.
On the table between them waited a voice recorder, mystically enhanced and backed-up with scrying spells, a blade hopefully-imbued with Jill’s will, and a light leather lash.
“Your next sin,” Zoe insisted.
A drop of sweat rolled down Jill’s slick face. Jill pursed her lips, squeezed her eyes against tears.
“Your next sin,” Zoe repeated.
“Ninety-four,” Jill said, voice attenuate from the extended ceremony. “I think it was August.”
Zoe remembered this but said nothing.
Jill swallowed, rolled her neck. She picked her bound hands up from the table and wiped some of the accumulated dampness from her face. “It was…” Jill trailed off.
Zoe unfolded her arms, gripped the back the unoccupied chair, and banged its back legs against the hardwood. Jill jumped but didn’t speak. Zoe slammed the chairlegs down again, the loud clamor echoing for microseconds afterward.
“It was—it was—it was…uh…when I ran away. The worst time, I guess.”
Zoe released the chair, neither confirming nor denying her opinion.
Jill stared at the table. “It’s when I…I took mom’s amulet and dad’s debit card and…and your trophies…”
“Look at me,” Zoe said.
Jill brought her glassy gaze up. Coughed. “Uh. So I withdrew a couple hundred dollars and I…I sold the rest of it. I was gone, I don’t know how long…”
Nine days, Zoe didn’t mention. Nine terrifying, up-all-night, crying days. Nine days of not knowing. She said nothing.
“I’m so sorry,” Jill garbled. “I just couldn’t get away. I couldn’t get out.”
Zoe waited for the rest of the story. For the sake of the ritual, she couldn’t accept any apologies until after the Confessor had ‘fully described’ the ‘sin.’ Leaving the armchair behind, she stepped over to the table itself. She assessed the selection of ceremonial objects.
“I’ll finish, I’ll finish,” Jill said.
Zoe nodded but stayed at the table’s edge. She folded her hands behind her back.
“I…spent all the money. Mostly on junk. Booze and coke but mostly just…and at some point I sold the debit card. I told the guy I’d just swiped it off of someone. And then I couldn’t afford the motel room. I didn’t want to go back home. I…I called you but when you answered I just hung up.”
Three times, Zoe didn’t correct. Jill had called three times in that or similar fashion.
“I don’t—I can’t—”
Zoe unfolded her hands. “Tell the whole story.”
“The guy I sold the debit card to, he couldn’t use it, obviously, so…so…I didn’t know he recognized me, but he followed me. He found out I was staying in a tent in Tompkins. He didn’t even open the tent, he just took it down with me still inside it and started kicking.” Jill gulped, throat flexing with restraint. “I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know what was happening, I just…I was trying to claw my way out of the tent, I was trying to scream—I don’t even remember if I could or not. I thought I was going to die. I thought he was going to rape me. I thought…” Jill paused, breath coming in short, fast inhalations.
“Whenever you’re ready to continue,” Zoe said.
“I don’t know how long it went on like that. Not long, I guess…but it felt like shrieking fucking forever. Then suddenly he was shouting for help, too, and I was tangled up in the tent trying to free myself. This woman, I mean this real Alphabet City butch, was hitting the guy with a baseball bat. Bright pink buzzcut, septum piercing, tattoos, big-ass keyring, the whole thing. And the guy was on the ground trying to crawl away and she kept shouting at him ‘how you like it, how you like it, how you like it.’” A faint smile weakly twitched across Jill’s lips. “After she was…done, I guess…she came over and helped me up. She knew a nurse who could come take a look at me. I went to her apartment. She told me to wait for her.”
“And…?”
“She was gone a while. I thought, you know, I thought she just wanted to fuck me or whatever. Or I told myself that. I didn’t know this woman, I didn’t know her friends…but I know those weren’t the real reasons that I…that I…”
Zoe rested a hand on the thick grip of the whip.
“I’m telling it,” Jill said. “Okay? Fuck. I’m telling it.”
Zoe nodded.
“I started to feel sick. But I was out of money. So.”
“Say it.”
“So I swiped her shit and ran, okay? I stole her VHS player, some cash, some weed I found…and I just walked out. It all added up to maybe a hundred bucks but it was a hundred bucks I didn’t have. I didn’t even spend it all before I called you. I just…I didn’t want to be the person who did what I did. But I was. I am.” Tears threatened Jill’s eyes. “And then you took me to the pawn where I’d sold all her shit and you helped me buy most of it back and when I gave it to her she just looked at me like I was…nothing. She said ‘thanks for not ripping me off but get the fuck out of my neighborhood.’”
Zoe released the whip.
“But I was back in her neighborhood two months after getting out of rehab because I—because I—‘cause I-I-I—” Jill seized, back arching into her seat. She gagged, choking on the syllable. She slammed her bound fists against the table. “Nnnnn. Nnnnn.”
Zoe walked quickly behind Jill’s chair, steadying it as Jill thrashed. She reached out and placed her hands on either side of Jill’s head, making sure she made contact with the temples. She’d only done this twice outside of a classroom.
“Never,” Jill spat, gray spittle spraying her lips. “Never.”
Zoe muttered the multi-lingual words of the spell. Her muscles twisted and knotted, her tendons strained. Her heart battered her lungs senselessly. Magic built up through her every fiber, hungry for resources. Sweat flopped her brow and slicked her back. Her words slowed down, separated by ragged pants. She barely managed the last syllables, Korean, <> before a sharp spasm ran down her right leg and nearly dropped her to the floor.
Jill seized, arching back, maw yawning as a descending pitch roughed and graveled. “You’ll never be free,” the new-yet-familiar voice snarled. “Never!”
Zoe staggered back, wiping sweat from her forehead. Nausea gyred her guts. Panting, she lunged forward and grabbed Jill’s head again. Jill thrashed, but the restraining spells and the literal restraints limited the movements. Zoe held tight. She muttered the incantation again, her heart rate climbing, chest thrumming as if nearing the end of a 500 meter race. She formed the magic in her mind, a cool pulse inward, her will becoming fascia over Jill’s, buttressing. The syllables gooey with drymouth, she reached the end of the incantation again, <> Her bicep tendon tightened, flexing her whole right arm. Her shoulder hitched, her scapulae drove toward her spine. A groan rattled out of her. She almost opened her eyes. The spell took.
“Never!” Jill screamed, her voice now the same raspy, gravely lowness of the haunting whispers...
Zoe Dove, crashing her consciousness into Jill’s.
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