Chapter Text
Tally was devasted, and to think, she’d woken up happy.
Okay, so she woke up happy most days, but still. She’d been so looking forward to her first night off after three straight nights on her belly on a muddy assault course with the weather apprentices raining literal hail on her like it was their duty. Okay, so yes, it was their actual duty, but Tally was certain they could’ve been less happy about doing it. She’d caught a few of them smirking from the sidelines, and one had even shouted that when she was in Basic, she’d considered it an honor to crawl through the mud as General Bellweather swirled tornadoes up their asses…or something like that. Whatever it was, Tally had had to stop herself from screaming back that if these storms had been a product of the General Bellweather herself, she might actually consider it an honor, but in no way was she about to summon any joy for some apprentice-level rain. And hail. And lightning. Ugh. Fine. Clearly, they were skilled witches, but Tally hated smugness, so she refused to acknowledge that to anyone but herself.
“I think I get the whole storm-and-fury thing now,” Glory had shouted over the bitter, wet wind, her face streaked with mud. “Because it’s been storming for, like, a million-something hours now, and I’m definitely feeling furious about it!”
Tally had almost cried with the relief the laugh gave her. It hurt, the ache of the jarring expression zipping through every frozen, strained, and saturated muscle in her body, but it felt so good. The unrelenting misery she’d experienced throughout her first two weeks of Basic was such an unnatural experience for her that she had, more than once, considered calling it quits and trying her best to reclaim her dispensation.
But that laugh had saved her. It bolstered her. It reminded her she wasn’t alone, and that… Well, that was the reason Tally had done all this in the first place. It was the reason she’d pledged herself to the Army. Togetherness. Sisterhood. That laugh got her through, even knowing what awaited. In just two weeks, the Merging, when the four basic-training camps weeded out their weak before merging into a single selection of soldiers deemed fit to continue to combat basic. Those not selected were sent off to train for other on-base jobs, the ones that required less power and less physicality. Tally knew little about the minutiae of the military given her mother’s vague education outside of how terrible and awful and terrible it all was, but she did know that there were many witches who considered being relegated non-combat a huge mark on one’s honor and the honor of one’s family, especially if the witches were from a well-respected bloodline. Tally herself had never believed that. Some people just weren’t cut out for war; why should that be shameful?
Tally wasn’t cut out for it herself, she knew. Her body? Sure. Her power? Maybe. She had no way of knowing since she’d hardly performed any Work outside of domestics and gardening. But definitely not in her heart. If she had the choice, she’d never harm anyone, ever. But she also knew there wasn’t always a choice, so ultimately, it didn’t matter if it wasn’t right for her. She could do what needed to be done for the survival and betterment of her kind and her country, and that made her suited enough. She wouldn’t shy away, because she intended to make a name for herself in the Army, not because she cared about praise or prestige, but because she hoped to make the military her home. She hoped to build her career there, her life, possibly even a family. Her mother had lost all her sisters once they passed through the high gates of Fort Salem, but Tally intended to find hers there instead.
It was why she had to keep going. When the individual camps merged, she’d be placed with her first permanent partners. Her first, and hopefully lifelong, sisters. Tally wanted them so desperately, she ached. She’d dreamt of late-night laughter and squealing over ridiculous things, encouraging pep talks and hugs she’d feel like healing magic, a constant presence at her back, securing her, just as she would be securing another. Oh, she couldn’t wait. But she had to get there.
And she did! Thank the Goddess, she’d made it through the worst of it, and could finally rest. So of course, of course, her refuses-to-ever-let-her-be-happy mother had to go and ruin her glorious triumph. Not long after she’d woken up, Tally was notified she had a call, and before she’d even been able to express her surprise at hearing her mother’s voice so soon after she’d all but disowned her, the devastation was blurted through the line like a foul taste spat to the ground.
“Carrot’s dead.”
Carrot. Her precious Carrot. The stray ginger cat she’d found stealing an egg from the hen house when she was just nine years old. She’d adopted him against his will that day, but he’d adapted quickly to being a tiny witch’s best friend and had honorably filled the role ever since. Leaving him behind had been the hardest part of leaving home. Tally planned to get herself established then have him sent over once she graduated to having her own quarters. Officers were allowed a Familiar. Tally was certain Carrot could be hers with a little training.
But now, she was devasted. Tired and sore and devastated. Her mother hadn’t told her what happened, only that a coyote was involved, and that had been enough for Tally to spend the rest of her afternoon sobbing. It was only when she’d dehydrated herself to drought status that she decided to crawl off her bunk and head to the Mess Hall.
It was dinner time, but it wasn’t her camp’s time slot in Mess. That was okay. She wasn’t looking for a meal, just a quick pop into the small, connected shop to buy some snacks. She didn’t have a lot of money, but snacks seemed like an essential buy for dealing with grief, so she was okay with the sacrifice.
She was halfway through the crowded Mess Hall when a bit of conversation caught her attention.
“And I don’t know what to do! Like what do I even do? I’ve had that cat since I was a kid. She’s my cat. I feel sick, man. Fuck. I can’t even eat.”
Tally’s heart shattered all over again, and before she knew it, she was sliding onto the bench beside the girl she’d overhead. Tears in her eyes, she lay a hand on the girl’s arm and said, “Did you lose your cat, too? My mom just called me about mine this morning, and I’ve been crying for hours. Oh Goddess, I’m so sorry, but I’m also so glad, because I really don’t want to go through this alone.”
There were only two people at the end of the table she’d joined, a blonde with only half of her head braided, who Tally was currently clutching like she knew her (She did not.), and a brunette with a severe bob, even more severe bangs, and the most severe eyebrow raise Tally had ever seen. Disturbingly kempt for a girl—woman; Tally had really been struggling with thinking of herself and other girls her age as women; then again, what was wrong with ‘girl’—in Army basic training. Both stared at Tally like she was some kind of triple-headed mythological creature.
“Oh no,” Tally said. Humiliation flooded her chest like a molten river. “I’m completely sticking my nose in your business. I’m so sorry. I’m just so devastated, and then I heard you talking about your cat dying, too, and I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry. I’ll just…I’ll…” A sob jumped up her throat as her eyes watered, and the severe one’s shocked and confused (yet somehow still challenging) expression quickly morphed to one of discomfort and disgust.
“Get ahold of yourself,” she snapped as she cast a furtive glance. “Whatever your name is. Oh, for fuck’s sake—” The blonde one patted Tally’s hand, still bewildered, as the tears welled and fell. “—her cat didn’t die! Stop wailing before you get everyone looking at us!”
“Um, her cat did,” the blonde girl said. “I mean, yeah, please stop crying on me, strange girl, but like, maybe you could try a little common decency, Bellweather. The girl’s cat died this morning.”
The eyeroll was as severe as the brow raise. “I show empathy in other ways.”
“Sure you do,” Side-braid drawled, and Tally figured then was as good a time as any to slink away into nonexistence and mourn her reputation before she’d ever even had a chance to establish one. But as she rose, the arm she’d just been gripping shot out to stop her. “Wait. Hey. You don’t have to go. Sorry. I mean, about your cat. That sucks.”
“Um, thanks,” Tally managed through sniffles.
“What’s your name?” Severe Girl asked as she threw a wad of napkins at Tally and gestured for her to de-snot herself immediately. Or else.
“Tally.” An unsure smile quivered on her lips as she cleaned herself up. Could these girls be her friends? Could she have just accidentally stumbled into a sisterhood she could call her own? “I’m Tally.”
But then dark mocha eyes rolled harder than thunder, and Tally’s stomach plummeted. Oh. Maybe not.
“She means your family name,” Side-braid explained. “Because she cares about stupid shit like that.”
“Everyone cares about it,” Severe Girl snapped, and then something clicked in Tally’s mind.
What had Side-braid called her before? “Wait,” Tally said, and her eyes bulged as she looked at the girl like she was having a celebrity encounter in the wild. Which, Tally had lived in the wild all her life. Celebrities encounters: zero. She couldn’t help herself. “You’re a Bellweather?!”
Severe Girl’s smile was smug and beautiful, and Tally suddenly questioned everything she’d thought prior about smugness, and the whole loathing it thing. Because this smug girl in front of her radiated power and beauty, and rather than be put off by it, Tally found herself drawn in like a moth to fire.
“Abigail Bellweather,” Abigail Bellweather said proudly.
“Daughter of General Petra Bellweather, herself,” Side-braid said. “But don’t worry. She only reminds everyone every ten minutes or so.”
Tally giggled. “I think I would too if I was a Bellweather,” she said, and that seemed to put her firmly in Abigail’s favor, or at least somewhere above being tolerated.
“Whatever,” Side-braid muttered, and then she wasn’t Side-braid anymore. She was—“I’m Raelle.”
“Collar,” Abigail supplied for her. “The Collars are an ancient, not entirely undistinguished, line of Fixers. Talented, but….”
“But dirt poor and unorthodox.” Raelle smiled, her own smugness now rivaling Abigail’s. “And fucking proud of it.” She turned back to Tally. “You?”
“Craven,” Tally said. “We were a divining line, but we’ve been tapped out. I’m the last of my name.”
Abigail’s sharp brows tilted upward again and, to Tally’s surprise, she said, “So am I.” And as if fate intended to double down on signs that day, Raelle nodded too, and said, “Yeah, same here.”
And that was it. Tally couldn’t explain it, but she knew these girls would be her sisters, whether they ended up together after the merge or not. She didn’t care. Just as she’d done with Carrot, she adopted them as her own. She didn’t need to share that just yet, but the mental paperwork was signed. They were hers.
“Do you have any divining skill?” Abigail asked her. “I’ve read extensively about the Ottawa Siege. Coraline Craven singlehandedly turned the tide of that battle with her vision. It’s legendary.”
“Yeah,” Tally said, heat rushing to her cheeks, “no. Nothing yet. At least, not that I’ve noticed.”
Tally hated that Abigail looked disappointed, but then Raelle’s shoulder nudged hers, and a smile sent her way made her feel a bit better. They had time. She could learn. Maybe she’d be the best diviner the Army had ever seen. It was a lofty dream and one she wasn’t really committed to, but it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, so Tally felt no shame in indulging it every once in a while.
“I haven’t seen you before,” Raelle said, as if sensing the discussion needed a change in direction. Clearly, she wasn’t into the whole bloodlines and powerlines thing that most witches with names as old as theirs tended to be. Tally appreciated that. Her own mother had been obsessed with their name and legacy; she’d just been opposed to everything it had been attached to. “You’re not in our camp.”
“No, yeah,” Tally said, then laughed at herself for the contradiction. “No, I’m in Camp Four. I just came to stop by the shop. You guys are in Two, right? This is number two’s time slot, I think.”
“Yeah.” Raelle nodded. “Anyone tap out in your camp, yet?”
“Not yet. Yours?”
“Yeah, one.”
“Weak,” Abigail muttered. “I’ll be glad when we’ve merged. At least we’ll know those girls are up to the task.”
Raelle sighed. “You’ll have to forgive her. She’s privileged.” Tally tried and failed not to laugh again. “Anyway, what happened to your cat? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”
Instantly, Tally felt the sting of loss again. “Carrot,” she said. “A coyote got him.”
“Oh man, that’s brutal,” Raelle said, and Tally was touched to see the girl’s eyes water. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“Raelle’s cat was stolen,” Abigail supplied, and Tally’s eyes blew wide.
“Stolen?! Like, from here? On base? I thought we couldn’t have pets on base?”
“We can’t,” Abigail said, “but Collar got a special exception.”
“How?”
Raelle chuckled. “I snuck her in.” Tally’s jaw dropped, and Raelle’s wicked smile devoured her face. Her laugh bloomed into a loud guffaw. “Listen,” she said, “my cat is my ride or die. There was no way I was leaving her behind.”
“But how do you hide her? There are like twenty bunks in one room.”
“I keep her under the bed,” Raelle said with a shrug. “She stays there when I’m there, and when I’m not there, I sneak her out, and she spends her day doing whatever cats do. She knows how to avoid being caught, and she knows how to find me when its bedtime.”
“What? How?”
“Um, aren’t you a witch?” Raelle laughed. “I did a bonding.”
“Oh, so she’s your Familiar?”
“No,” Abigail said. “Familiars are registered and have to pass a bonding trial.”
“Okay, so? Lady’s not registered, but she’s still my Familiar.”
“Aw, you named your cat Lady,” Tally giggled. “That’s so cute.”
“Yeah, well, she’s a lesbian,” Abigail said, “so of course she named it Lady. I’m shocked she didn’t name it Pussy.”
“Ha!” Raelle snorted. “If I’d gotten her at fourteen instead of three, I probably would have.”
Tally was certain she looked like a tomato as she said, “I’m fine with lesbians.”
“Good to know,” Raelle cackled, and Abigail joined in.
“I named my Carrot Carrot because he was orange like a carrot.”
“Valid,” Raelle said with a nod, and Tally laughed despite her embarrassment.
“Whatever the cat’s name is, Shitbird here is lucky I didn’t turn her in for her non-registered contraband.”
“Sure, that 3-lb bag of Jelly Bellies I smuggled in for you was nothing but pure luck.”
Tally frowned. “Jelly Bellies?”
“Jellybeans,” Raelle said. “Candy. Abigail says they’re her only civilian vice, but somehow, I don’t believe her.”
“No one cares what you believe, Collar,” Abigail fired back, “and until you try the toasted marshmallow and the juicy pear flavors, you don’t get to act like Jelly Bellies aren’t absolutely worth breaking code for.”
“Wait,” Tally said, simultaneously amused and confused. “If no one knew you had a cat, then how did someone steal her?”
Raelle’s sigh was a mile long. “Fucking Scylla.”
Tally was shaken.
Not only had Raelle’s precious cat, Lady (aw), been kidnapped by Raelle’s own ex-girlfriend, but the bigger mind-blow: Raelle had managed to meet a girl, bed a girl, and girlfriend a girl all within the first three weeks of Basic. Tally wasn’t just shaken. She was vibrating. Like, how? How?!
“Collars are notorious for their game,” Raelle had explained. “I can’t help it that girls like me.”
Abigail had promptly snorted into her juice. “I fucking hate you.”
“Same,” Raelle had replied, and Tally didn’t understand it, but she’d known, on some intrinsic level, that they were expressing something relatively the opposite of what they’d actually said. They liked each other. Respected each other. Begrudgingly, very begrudgingly perhaps, they kind of loved each other. Maybe they didn’t know it yet. Maybe they wouldn’t know it for a while, but Tally did. She was certain.
Hours after Raelle had lain the whole story out for her, Tally lay in her bunk in turmoil over every little detail of Raelle’s loss and of her own. Two cat crises. Two wrecked young women. One sleepless night.
Tally had to do something. Didn’t she? Yes. She had to. She’d decided within moments of plopping down at their table that Raelle Collar and Abigail Bellweather were hers. Whether they wanted to be or not, they were her family now. She’d silently but fiercely adopted them in her heart as she laughed and cried at their table like a lunatic and soothed her grief with the edge of someone else’s. If she didn’t do everything that she could to help them when they needed it, then wouldn’t she be failing them?
Family had family’s backs. Sisters looked out for sisters.
Tally just needed a plan.
Okay, so, this wasn’t part of her plan.
She hadn’t really come up with a plan, because, in truth, she had no clue where to begin. How was she supposed to get Raelle’s cat back when she barely knew her way around Fort Salem? It’s only been three weeks, and I’ve been being tortured for most of it!
Except, there she was the very next day, sitting in one of the administration building’s many waiting rooms, waiting (obviously) for her appointment with the legal department concerning her Will and burial rites (required of all newly called witches, not to Tally’s surprise; she’d lost four aunts to service, after all), when in walked the epitome of Raelle’s description. The description of her ex. The catnapper. Scylla. Tally said the name with disgust in her mind.
What kind of monster steals a person’s cat?
But it had to be her. It had to be. She fit the details precisely, so precisely that Tally felt a thrill ripple up her spine.
She hadn’t had a plan before, but she had one now.
“I saw her.”
“Huh?”
Tally had hunted Raelle like prey across campus and gave her confession with breathless excitement. “Scylla. I saw her when I was at Administration this morning.”
“For real? Wait. How do you know it was her?”
“Um, dark hair, older than us, intense blue eyes,” Tally said. “Like, blue-from-a-distance blue.”
“I mean, that could be her, yeah. She definitely has intense eyes,” Raelle said. “But that could be a lot of other people too, though, right?”
Tally considered. “She also looked like she could probably kill someone with just her face and might actually enjoy doing it.”
Raelle’s head tilted, lips dipping with acknowledgment. “Okay, yeah, that was probably Scylla.”
“Ha!” Tally’s thrill multiplied. “I knew it. So, she’s already in War College, right? And they get weekends.”
“Every other weekend,” Raelle said, “but yeah. I mean, that’s what she told me, anyway.”
“So, I heard her saying something to the person at the desk about going to the Witch’s Brew tomorrow night. That’s a bar, right?”
“Yeah, in Salem Town, but you’ll never get clearance to go, and even if you did, what are you gonna do? Just ask her to give Lady back? She’ll just lie and say she doesn’t have her, and we’ve got no way to prove otherwise. Not that it would matter if we did, because I’m not supposed to have Lady in the first place, so I can’t report that she’s been taken.”
“No, I….” Tally chewed her lip. Was she really about to suggest this? It’s for sisterhood, Tally. It’s for your country. Tally summoned her finnicky confidence and nodded. Yup. I’m really going to suggest this. “Hear me out.”
According to Raelle, smuggling Lady into Fort Salem had been a feat worthy of an award; smuggling Tally out was strangely, and clearly to Raelle’s disappointment, a much easier affair. It had taken only moments, and Tally was on her way, assured with a whisper at her back that no one would find out, and she would cover for her if anyone, for any reason, got suspicious.
See? Tally prodded herself, grinning as she walked the mile and a half to Salem Town with her feet a bit wobbly beneath her. Civilian tennis shoes felt weird after weeks of steel-toed tactical boots. She has your back. She’s your friend. She’s your sister. You were right. This is exactly what you need to do to prove yourself. To make your mark. To start a family here, surrounded by girls who are just like you and not ashamed of it. Proud witches. Proud Army. She sighed and shook her head, laughed at how, twice now, the rebellious nature her mother had so loathed in her, had brought her such riches. You were wrong, Mom. She picked up her pace. I was right.
She was getting Lady back. For Raelle. For sisterhood. For her country. For all witchkind.
For Carrot.
Nearing the town, Tally went over the plan she’d hobbled together then patched up a bit with Raelle’s help. She would find Scylla at the Witch’s Brew. Abigail had given her money to buy drinks and a bewitched ID from her cousin that morphed its image to match the person holding it. Tally was kind of obsessed with it (not as much as Raelle was). She would flirt with Scylla the Catnapper—Raelle had used the term ‘seduce’, but Tally hadn’t seduced a thing in her life and felt embarrassed just thinking about it—and hopefully get an invitation back to her dorm.
They’d discussed the possibility of simply breaking into Scylla’s dorm while she was out, but Raelle swore Scylla’s door was guarded by a charm that would not only alert her the second someone tried to get in but would also inflict an itch jinx on the intruder. Tally’s first thought: What kind of psychopath puts a jinx on their dormitory door? But then, of course, the kind who steals someone’s cat. That’s who.
Thus, they’d landed where they landed. Tally would have to get an invite, and then once she was inside, all she had to do was look around for any evidence of Lady, and then dismiss herself as quickly as she could. She was certain she could do it. Get the invite. Get the evidence. Well, she was mostly certain. She was cute. She was charming, right? She was cunning. Well, she wasn’t sure if she was cunning, but no one had given her a chance to try yet! Yeah. She could do it. She was sure. Reasonably sure.
Not that it really mattered, because she’d arrived.
The Witch’s Brew was oddly empty. Tally frowned as she took in all the bare high tops with no customers topping them. No customers anywhere. Are they not open yet? Am I early?
No, there was no way. It was dark outside! Still, Tally checked her watch. Ten after ten. Where is everyone? There wasn’t even a bartender. Wait!
Tally heard voices. Maybe she’d just caught them at a slow moment. Maybe the bartender was in the back and would be out again shortly. She would wait.
Okay, so, she would pee and check her makeup and hair because she just walked over a mile, and then she would wait. Hopefully, by that point, she wouldn’t have to wait long. Or at all.
She headed down a short, wood-paneled hall with old, sepia-shaded photos of witches engaged in various rituals. Tally recognized the formations and markings visible in a few of the images—she’d seen them in the commune library when she was fourteen and in her bookish phase—and knew they were from the old ways. At least in the West, modern magic tended to be less magic and more Work; Tally doubted there were many witches left in the United States who practiced such rituals anymore. Too many considered them taboo now—too blatantly other or cultlike. They didn’t want to put off the civilians after all. Their otherness had seen them down terribly dark paths before, or rather had seen to them being dragged down those paths.
“Do you know of the Rising?”
Tally, Goddess only knows how, did not jump out of her skin but remained perfectly in place. Only a jolt in her belly. A sudden, unexpected flare in the deep of her as she turned to find she wasn’t alone any longer, joined by none other than the woman she’d come for.
Scylla.
Tally’s breath stuck in her chest. Wow. Scylla’s hair was loose and a little wild, freely flowing down, down, longer than Tally had realized when she’d seen it braided before, and framing her angled face like thick, dark curtains that magnified the color of her eyes. She wore a vintage Army bomber jacket over a tight white T-shirt and dark jeans, leather boots. Tally thought she’d gotten a good look at her the day before; it had been a short distance but not entirely out of hearing range so it couldn’t have been that far. But then, witches did have naturally extended hearing ranges, so maybe it was farther than it seemed. She’d thought the woman was handsome in the standard-issue tee, pants, and jacket she’d seen her in, sure, but, well…. This was…. She wasn’t expecting this.
She wasn’t expecting hot. Like, hot. This was the girl—no, see, that’s what was wrong with girl; this level of hotness was full woman—Raelle had bedded? Wow. Tally felt flushed, and suddenly, she was feeling very much like a woman herself. Wow.
No! Stop it! She reprimanded herself. You are not attracted to this person! She is a catnapper!
“Sorry,” Tally forced a word, cleared her throat. “Hi. Sorry, the Rising?”
A dangerously attractive smirk pulled one corner of the witch’s mouth. She nodded toward the picture Tally had only just been looking at on her way to the bathroom. Ugh, the bathroom. I still need to pee.
“Oh!” Tally bit her lip to bring a swift death to her nervous giggle. “The ritual, yes. This one’s a cleansing if I’m not mistaken. For water and widespread sickness. If I’m not mistaken.” Fire raged in her cheeks. “I already said that.”
One slender eyebrow slinked upward and stuck. Okay, that was the most severe eyebrow raise Tally had ever seen. Sorry, Abigail. “I’m surprised,” the catnapper said, mercifully ignoring Tally’s idiocy. “Pleasantly so, because you are not mistaken.” Sweet relief. “Not many witches your age are familiar with the old rites.”
“I was raised in a matrifocal sect,” Tally told her, knowing that would be explanation enough, not because the sects were weird (necessarily), but because they were notoriously isolated and painstakingly traditional.
“I am sure this has been quite the experience for you then,” came the reply.
Tally smiled. “Oh, yes. A whole new world.”
“Mm.” A pleasant nod. “May I ask what you are doing here?”
Tally took a deep breath. Wow. No one had asked her that yet. Well, no one really knew her story yet either, so why would they? Ha. “Um, well, I guess I should say I just felt a really strong call to serve, but—”
That eyebrow was up again, just as severe, but the smirk was back too, and the presence of both left Tally confused. Or maybe it was just her body that was confused. She was, well, feeling things.
“But?”
“Um, but I really came for the other girls. Women. Women, I mean.”
The catnapper’s other brow shot up to match its mate, but then they slinked back down as her smirk grew into an amused grin that made Tally’s knees wobble. “I see.”
Wait. “Wait!” Tally’s face burned. Her chest, too. Her organs were melting, melting. “No, that’s—that’s not what I meant.”
“No?”
“No, I meant friends,” Tally rushed to explain. “Like sisters. Sisterhood.”
“Ah.” Something about the woman’s unwavering grin said she didn’t believe Tally.
“Really.” Wait. I’m supposed to be seducing her. No, flirting. Flirting with her. So, maybe I should try— “Well, I mean, maybe, um, that way too. That other way, I mean.”
The smile didn’t twitch. The brow remained severe. Tally’s clit throbbed. Dear Goddess, what is happening?
“Mhm.”
“Um,” Tally tried, no clue what she was doing, “would that…. I mean, are you…?”
“I will spare you the work of determining whatever it is you’re trying to ask me,” the catnapper said, her voice utterly calm, “though I think I have an idea.” She paused, lingering in the acknowledgment just long enough for Tally to feel both properly humiliated and improperly aroused. “Because when I asked what you were doing here, I meant here, in this establishment. I reserved it for private use tonight. I was under the impression the place been cleared, and then I found you here.”
“Oh.” Wait, what? “Oh!” Welp. There goes the arousal. Mortification launched up from the ground like a hand rising from a grave and latched onto her ankle, intent on pulling her down. Down where she belonged. No wonder there had been no one inside the place. Hello, Obvious. Meet Tally Craven. “I’m so sorry! I’m so embarrassed.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
Tally’s soul shriveled to ash. “I’ll just go.” Yes, go. Go. Go. Go before your body dissolves too, and you end up a sad pile of gay panic at a catnapper’s feet. Am I having gay panic? Am I gay?! This is not how I thought I would discover myself! Or die! “Um, sorry again.” She took one quick step to pass the woman when her bladder jolted. It was over a mile back to base. Shit. Shit. Shit. “Um, sorry one more time, but can I use the bathroom before I go? I walked here.”
The catnapper, annoyingly, appeared amused. “Of course.”
Tally made for the bathroom like a rodent, scurrying out of sight. She threw the door closed behind her, took the first stall, and dropped onto the toilet to relieve herself; except, nothing could relieve her now. She was pure anxiety and humiliation, a potent combination that also happened to be the arch nemesis of calm.
She wanted to die. Not really. But also, kind of.
And then she realized that nothing about what had occurred changed the fact that she’d gone there for a reason. To seduce (flirt with) Scylla the Catnapper and get an invite back to her dorm to see if she had Lady. At this point, she had better have Lady, or Tally might kill Raelle before she even got the chance to know her new sister. Except this was my idea, Tally chastised herself. Idiot.
The door creaked open, and Tally froze in her stall. Her stream did not. It went spattering on as the intruder cleared their throat, and said, “I have a question, if I may ask.”
Was her voice that silky in the hallway? Silky? Was that the right word?
“Um, sure,” Tally said and cringed when she peed a bit more. Pssshhh.
Her voice wasn’t gravelly, but it was deep. Rich. Yes, silky. Silky was perfect.
No, silky is the worst! It’s not sexy at all! Stop it!
Pssssshhhhh. Why was she still peeing?! Pssh.
Oh, thank Goddess. It was over. She quickly took care of business and flushed, shot out of the stall with her head down, and made for the sink. She didn’t look up to see the woman in the mirror, though she could feel that she was close. Leaning against the wall near the door, maybe. Tally wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Looking at that woman too much seemed bad for one’s blood pressure. But when no question ever came and Tally had finished her washing and drying, she had no choice but to look.
She regretted it immediately.
Blue eyes were pinned to her so intently that Tally was sure she wouldn’t be able to move a muscle if she tried. Her throat went dry. Her voice croaked. “What was your question?”
The woman’s dark eyebrow shifted with just the slightest dip, as if she was unsure. Or maybe she’d changed her mind about asking whatever she’d intended. But then, she licked her lips and—“Were you really going to propose some sort of…engagement…between the two of us?” Her voice dropped an octave. Or maybe Tally imagined that. “In the hall, before I cut you off.”
For Goddess’ sake! Could it get any more embarrassing to just exist in this woman’s presence? Her voice alone made Tally’s body feel like a firecracker. Worse, she seemed intent on prodding Tally’s insecurities like a bully with a stick cornering a helpless cat. Which she would then steal because she is a catnapper.
Tally gritted her teeth. Summoning every ounce of nerve she had, she said, “Look, if you’re not into me, you’re not into me. I told you I’m going. But don’t follow me into the bathroom to poke fun at me for showing interest. There’s no need to be cruel. I don’t deserve that.”
The catnapper seemed surprised, challenged even. Good, Tally thought and felt a rush of bravado. It was unfamiliar, addictive. Far too addictive.
“Is that what you have decided I’m doing?” the woman asked as she slowly crossed her arms over her chest and settled her back to the wall, legs hooking at the ankles. “Following you for the sake of putting you down?”
“Well, I can think of only two other reasons you would follow me in here,” Tally said and took a step closer. It wasn’t close enough, not when the moment she sapped that distance, a scent trickled in, lilting the air like a subtle melody. Tally couldn’t quite place its components, not yet close enough, but they were earthy. Natural. Scents that reminded her vaguely of home.
“And those reasons are?” The catnapper seemed not annoyed but pleased that Tally hadn’t backed down. Her surprised expression turned to satisfaction. Confidence. And it did terrible, terrible things to Tally’s ego.
Far, far too addictive.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Tally had never flirted with anyone before, so she’d certainly never been a seductress. She had no clue how to even go about it, but that apparently didn’t matter, because her body was alive with instinct. It did what it wanted, what it needed, and Tally didn’t seem capable of stopping it. She felt her tongue dart out to swipe her bottom lip, felt her teeth scrape in their wake and hold a moment. She took another step as if possessed, as if baited and hooked and now being reeled to her demise. Goddess. Who was doing the seducing here? Who was in charge? Did Tally have the upper hand or did Scylla? She wasn’t sure, and there was an alarmingly fast-growing part of her that didn’t entirely care.
“Either you need to relieve yourself,” Tally said as she locked onto the dangerous little twinkle in glacier eyes and took another step. Her chest brushed the woman’s arm, layers of clothing separating flesh, but Tally felt exposed. Naked. Uncomfortable. Her body had never been so achy, and she didn’t even know why. Every part of her seemed to be straddling that pin-prickle plateau between numbness and feeling. And somehow, for reasons only the Goddess knew, Tally loved it. She leaned in, her heart racing and her mind a hot, humid haze. “Or you can’t stop thinking about how good I would look in your bed tonight.”
An unholy screech erupted in Tally’s head. WHAT THE WITCH’S TEATS AM I DOING?!
But then the tiniest, surprised hitch in the woman’s breath, and oh. Tally shook everywhere. Goddess, this witch was hot. Hot. No wonder Raelle had jumped into bed with her right away.
Which is precisely why you can’t. And because you do not know this person. And because you do not know how to have sex. And because she is a terrible person who steals cats.
Maybe if she reminded herself of all the reasons that she couldn’t feel what she was undeniably feeling, her body would just stop feeling it. Was that too much to hope for?
“You are braver than most,” the woman said. “I’ll give you that.” And just like that, all Tally’s hopes and her hopes of hopes dashed right out the door. She didn’t even know where the door was anymore or where she was or what the hell was happening, but none of that mattered. She was here. She was in this, cat or not.
Raelle didn’t have to know.
Oh Goddess. Am I terrible person? Yes. No! Kind of?
“What else would you be willing to give me?” Tally said. Yes. Definitely yes.
The woman’s chuckle could’ve been classed as a weapon. Tally felt absolutely weakened. “I have to tell you, this is the strangest experience I’ve had in some time, and novelty is rare for me. I’m still somewhat convinced this is a prank. I’m even certain I know the culprit if it is.”
Wait. What? Shit! Does she know about the plan? Did she see Tally talking with Raelle?
Two strong hands latched onto her shoulders, and Tally’s eyes bulged, because suddenly, she was floating. Her feet dangled for a few seconds as she was literally picked up and displaced from her position only to be promptly replaced in the one the catnapper, herself, had just occupied. And before Tally could even begin to process being handled in such a way, the rest of the room and the world and reality shifted and melted and disappeared entirely, because Scylla the Catnapper’s body was crowding her in. Her eyes locked on Tally like she was some kind of present (or prey). Closer and closer she came, until the tip of her nose rubbed against Tally’s. Making friction. And again, Tally was a bit of a (major) fire hazard at this point. Friction bad.
“But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t also intrigued,” the woman murmured, her lips just shy of touching Tally’s, and now her scent was everywhere. It was everything. Vetiver and benzoin and fig. Jasmine. Heat. Woman. Goddess.
Tally was kissing her. Oh. Oh! She was definitely kissing her. Fuck. This was not the plan. Okay, so, it was admittedly a possibility in the plan, but not like this. Not like this.
If awkward, attraction-less encounters born of curiosity and isolation counted, then this wasn’t Tally’s first kiss, but holy mother of all—this was a first fucking kiss. Tally felt it zing through her body like lightning, lighting her up from inside. She felt it all the way down to her marrow, felt it spiraling her bloodstream like a drug. Every nerve popped and zapped. Every muscle tensed. Her heart was a drum at the back of her throat. Because this woman, this horrible, horrible woman who had stolen Tally’s newly adopted sister’s cat, tasted like whisky and caramel and aged tobacco, and Tally’s Goddess-damned soul was on fire.
Was this always what attraction felt like? I might actually die from this. Help.
But now her hands were scratching up into the woman’s scalp and tangling her thick hair. The softest thing Tally had touched since Carrot. Oh no. Carrot.
FOCUS TALLY! You are here for a reason. This is not about you or your introduction to the wonderful world of witchy sex or sex in general or anything other than COMPLETING A MISSION IN THE NAME OF SISTERHOOD AND FOR ALL CATKIND.
“Mm,” the woman hummed against Tally’s mouth. Friction good. Friction so good.
FOCUS!
They parted, and Tally was breathless. The catnapper was cool as a cucumber. And hot. So, so hot. Tally’s body had to be singed at the edges at this point, and nothing had even happened. Except everything. Tally’s entire world had just been shifted on its axis. That was fine. Everything was fine. All according to plan. Onward with the mission.
“As delicious as that was, I am afraid I must be sure,” the woman whispered and, before Tally could ask what she meant, sang a heady, deep chord that Tally immediately recognized as Work, though she had no idea of its purpose.
Panic seized her.
“Stay calm,” the napper soothed, sensing it. “I am only reading your intention.” She nipped at Tally’s bottom lip, and down Tally went. Her knees wobbled and gave, but she was quickly righted by the woman responsible.
Did I seriously just swoon? Heeelp.
Wait! Reading my intention? What did that mean? Did this woman know how to read thoughts? Can she hear my thoughts right now?!
“No, I’m not reading your mind.”
Tally’s jaw snapped open. “Then how did you know I was thinking that?”
She chuckled. “A natural assumption given your reaction, no?”
“What are you doing to me then?” Tally narrowed her eyes. “I don’t feel any different.”
“I’m not doing anything to you. I’ve already done it.”
“What?”
“The Work revealed your present state of mind, or your energy, if that makes more sense. Some refer to this as the aura. Its color and vibrance communicate much about a person’s intentions. For example, someone smiling to my face while their aura burns crimson….”
“Is crimson bad?”
“It is…violent.”
“Oh.” She tried to glance around at herself and scoffed when the woman chuckled at her again. “What? I don’t see any colors.”
“I do.”
“Okay. And?” Tally tried not to hold her breath in anticipation. Her companion didn’t seem on edge, so surely, she saw nothing that had given away Tally’s ulterior motive. And Tally was certain she couldn’t possibly have been giving off anything even remotely approaching violence. She didn’t have a non-retaliatory violent bone in her body. But she couldn’t help the anxiety. Or maybe she was just keyed up. Maybe the chaos this woman had inflicted on her senses had robbed her of any ability to understand anything at all. “What are you seeing? What are you…? What do you want?” Tally searched her blue eyes, her hand rising to cup an angled cheek. Oh. She was softer than Tally expected. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Her beautiful nemesis’s (Maybe this will help keep me focused. This is not a real date. This is not real.) lips tremored around a slow, resolved exhale. “I am thinking….” She laughed at herself, quiet and half-hearted, shocked in a way, as if she couldn’t believe whatever it was—the thing she was thinking—and suddenly, Tally had to know.
“Tell me,” she whispered as she drew the woman in by the back of her jaw. Their noses knocked; breath mingled. “Tell me.”
“Goddess,” the woman groaned and, for the first time since their strange, electric encounter began, Tally saw some vulnerability. Genuine desire.
For me. Tally shuddered, burned. She really wants me. ME.
“You already know,” she finally confessed. “You put it in my head.” Her hands locked onto Tally’s waist and squeezed, one sharp pulse communicating volumes in a language Tally had never spoken but instinctively understood. “I’m thinking how good you will look in my bed tonight.”
The moan that rocked up Tally’s throat shocked her. Guttural and whiny, at once. It was hungry. It was animal. It was nothing like how she’d imagined herself in the, um…throes of passion? Whatever. Nothing was happening how she’d expected, and somehow, that was fine. It was more than fine.
Tally had never pushed a person out a door faster. Literally, she shoved the woman at the door and out, choking on whatever it was she’d said in the process. “Let’s go,” maybe. Or “Yes, please.” Or something along the lines of “Please accept my virginity, strange catnapping woman. I need your touch like I need air.” Any such would have applied.
They took the hall at a fast clip, until Tally nearly sent them barreling over their own feet and onto the floor by screeching to a sudden halt. “Hey.” One of the photographs had caught her eye again, briefly distracting. “Look at her.” She jabbed at one of the women in the shot, tall and dark-haired, arms raised to the sky, mouth open in Song. “She looks just like you.” Tally laughed, but when she looked back the other woman, she was met with only utter bewilderment again.
Then a strangled, confused huff of a laugh. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“What?” Tally looked back at the photo. “You don’t think she looks like you? Come on! You look exactly alike! I bet she’s one of your ancestors. Are you from one of the older bloodlines?”
The laugh returned, airy and a bit confused still but also, undeniably, delighted. “Something like that,” she said, then took Tally’s hand and yanked her on.
As they reentered the main bar and Tally saw it was still barren, she remembered. “Wait. Your party!”
“Party? What party?”
“You said you had this place shut down for a private thing. I just assumed it was some kind of party.”
“Oh. No. I just don’t like to be bothered.” What?! She shut down an entire pub so she could be alone? Was this Scylla woman super wealthy? Was she related to the owner? Wait. Was she an officer? An important one? Tally’s heart inched into her throat. “Come. I have a car outside.”
For a split second, Tally considered stopping, considered changing her mind, considered all the ways that her next few choices could change her life.
And then she followed the woman out the door.