The rest of the weekend was a melancholy blur, the bulk of which Callie spent alone in her room. During the handful of times she’d entered the common area for meals and the like she spoke hardly at all, answering in nods and gestures where she could and terse one-word statements where she couldn’t; through it all Jersey seemed to respect that distance, and Callie believed it was because she shared the older girl’s opinion of the impropriety of her behaviour.
Even her dreams were absent the typical nocturnal attack, instead replacing it with miserable brooding, the platinum wolf licking her wounds in relative seclusion. Despite her best efforts to hide, however, Jersey still managed to discover her resting places in the very early hours of the morning, leaving little tokens of her presence: blankets, a pillow, and sometimes the occasional stuffie. The gesture was undoubtedly sweet, which only made her feel worse about how she’d forced herself on the other girl in the changing booth.
In Callie’s mind she didn’t deserve the conciliatory attention and Jersey’s commitment to providing it only stung all the worse for it, her discomfort amplified by her growing war with her internal monologue.
The wolfish girl’s thoughts had started to push back against her self-estimation, the familiar voice inside her speaking words at-odds with how she viewed herself. Every time she chastised herself for her behaviour or for the predatory desire she harboured for her sister, the quiet whisper within her would begin another soothing litany of her better qualities and finer points. It had gotten to the point that even her external perception had begun to warp; viewing herself in the bathroom mirror had become a strange encounter with dissociation, her appraisal of her reflection doubled-up in her mind, castigation warring with proud encouragement.
Worst of all, perhaps, was that she had started to believe this alternate perspective sheerly through the power of dedicated exposure. The whisper blended-in so naturally with her thoughts that it steadily became harder and harder to recognize its intrusion, the complimentary assessment supplanting her own estimation of herself.
Come Sunday evening she had decided to take matters into her own hands, demanding answers from Genie.
“I can’t control your thoughts or otherwise alter your cognition,” the djinn explained patiently for the third time. “I can cause your body to release or better-process certain hormones such as dopamine and the like, but ultimately my powers are not all that different from psychiatric medication.”
“But the wish-magic is doing something,” the taller girl protested.
“Maybe,” Genie allowed; Callie was tempted to call it ‘hedging,’ but that would’ve been quite the understatement. “I will agree that you have been affected by magic in a manner consistent with Jersey’s wishes, but that’s all that I can tell you.”
“Because you don’t want me to know the truth,” Callie accused.
“Because I’m forbidden from doing so,” the djinn sighed exasperatedly. “I cannot reveal the wishes of any of my masters. The Veil ensures that no one will recognize changes brought about by magic, so it naturally ⸻ and quite severely ⸻ obscures the stated requests. If I were to even attempt to tell you what Jersey had wished for, I would suffer dire and unimaginable consequences.”
“Dire for a human, or dire for a djinn?”
“Yes,” Genie nodded, folding her arms beneath her bust. “All I can say is that I have done my best to ensure that the magic does not harm you or Jersey in any way.”
Callie had been forced to leave it at that, partly because it was impossible to complain that a two-thousand-year-old djinn wasn't doing her best, and partly because she couldn’t argue that the voice was hurting her. Sure, it felt a little strange to have what seemed like an external opinion overlaid onto her internal cognition, but if all it did was compliment her then it wouldn’t even break her top 100 worst intrusive thoughts.
Left to dread the following schoolday, she wondered if she shouldn’t try calling in sick a second time, but eventually she decided that would only be delaying the inevitable, or at worst confirm that Callie was indeed fooling around with her little sister. Ultimately concluding that she’d have to bite the bullet one way or another, she resolved to get it out of the way as soon as possible.
To her surprise, the vicious rumours she’d expected never materialised.
Callie shared a number of classes with Megan Baxter and it was usually easy to remember when those were, for if she ever forgot the girl in question would be present to remind her with a slew of insults and aspersions regarding her character. Megan’s vocal disapproval was so common that the taller girl had learned to block it out subconsciously, ignoring the meaningless words likely handed down to her by her father; still, that only meant that the silence left by their absence was particularly deafening.
Occasionally she caught Megan looking her way, an apprehensive expression plastered over the other girl’s face, but for the most part she stayed quiet and out of Callie’s way. It wasn’t until lunchtime that she said anything at all, the shorter girl catching up to her in the breezeway; the older sister had been avoiding the younger out of a desire to downplay any potential rumours, which allowed Megan to corner her alone.
“Listen, Brambell,” she muttered angrily, opening with her typical caustic tone, “we need to talk.”
“Sure,” Callie nodded, expecting blackmail. “I’ll do whatever you want as long as you don’t say anything bad about Jersey.”
“What?” Megan retorted, the older girl’s willing capitulation catching her off guard. “Look, I don’t care about that braindead bimbo.”
“Then why are you here at all?” she returned, confused. “We’re not exactly friends, so if you’re not going to insult me or blackmail me then there’s nothing for us to talk about.”
Clenching her small hands into tight fists, Megan wore a strained grimace as she looked away from the taller girl. “I can’t,” she muttered indignantly.
“Can’t what?” Callie shot back, both irritated and perplexed by her evident rival.
“I can’t blackmail you even if I wanted to,” she grumbled, crossing her arms beneath her somewhat substantial bust. “I can’t risk anyone finding out.”
“Finding out what?” she replied, searching for the source of the other girl’s discomfort. “That you work at a lingerie store?”
“Yes,” Megan hissed, grabbing Callie by the arm and pulling her into one of the alcoves off to the side, hiding the pair from view. “That’s why I’m here, okay? I want to trade. I won’t say anything about what I saw, and you’ll keep your trap shut about me. Got it?”
“... Sure,” Callie agreed hesitantly, still expecting a second shoe to drop. “You’re eighteen though, right? It’s not like you’re doing anything illegal.”
“That’s not the point!” she snapped, turning a fierce glower on the other girl. “Just, like … do me this one favour, and I’ll leave you alone until graduation.”
“Why the sudden change of heart?” the taller girl demanded, returning Megan’s glare with one of her own. “You’ve been hounding me for two solid months, and you even went out of your way to shit-talk to me to the volleyball coach.”
“Because you’re not supposed to play!” Megan huffed, an out-of-place pink tinge spreading through her cheeks. “It’s against the law, Brambell. Even a pretty boy jock like you should know that much.”
“That’s not how Title IX works,” Callie sighed, wishing that she could be in some other conversation.
“It’s about equality and sportsmanship,” the other girl insisted. “The law is trying to stamp out unfair advantages in women’s sports.”
“And my stature happens to be an incredibly rare exception to that,” the taller girl whinged, frustrated with Megan’s dedicated needling even while in the middle of asking her for a favour. “Why do you care, anyway? You’re the varsity captain. Shouldn’t you be happy to have an ‘unfair advantage’ on your team?”
For a brief moment, the irate mask slipped from Megan’s face, revealing a stunned expression that quietly morphed into something Callie might’ve mistaken for embarrassment.
“... You knew I made captain?” the shorter girl asked in a too-quiet voice.
“Yeah, obviously,” Callie answered, bewildered by the sudden shift. “I was invited to some of the games, so I went. I’ve seen you play.”
Perplexing the amazon even further, a slight smile turned up the corner of the other girl’s mouth, mixing with the frazzled pink of her cheeks in a way that almost tricked Callie into believing that the other girl had been happy to hear that the taller girl had been watching her. Perhaps it was for the sake of dispelling that illusion that Megan straightened backup, fixing her with a serious glare.
“If you perv on the team I’ll report you to the school,” she warned, the severity of her tone undercut by a nervous crack in her voice. “I know a bunch of the guys in the audience are just there to stare at our butts.”
“I’m not a ‘guy’, Megan,” Callie replied coolly. “If you catch me staring at a hot girl like you, it’s because I’m a lesbian ⸻ and I would really prefer it if you could appreciate the difference.”
Bafflingly, the offhand comment derailed her yet again. “You … think I’m hot?” she echoed, a weird earnestness suffusing her questioning tone.
“Everyone thinks you’re hot,” the amazon scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Which I can only assume is the reason you get away with all the shit you say.” Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Honestly, if she wasn’t so focused on being a card-carrying cop daughter Megan might’ve even transcended the term ‘hot’. As it was, her belligerence held back her otherwise cute face and attractively fit body; all that combined with her frankly impressive rack for an athlete meant that Callie would’ve been absolutely smitten with the pretentious brunette during her first run-through of highschool, and with an adjustment to her attitude she might’ve even caught her fancy then as well.
As if sensing Callie’s measured appraisal, Megan covered her chest with her arms.
“Stop ogling my boobs, Brambell,” she snipped much-less harshly than Callie would’ve expected.
“I’m not staring at your tits, Megan,” the wolfish girl quipped, resisting the temptation to actually do so. “Even if I was, you’re like two shades off my type anyway.”
Though Callie had meant the comparison to be metaphorical, the shorter girl knew enough about her infatuation with her sister to seize on a more literal interpretation.
“Blonde hair dye is a sin,” she huffed, turning her nose up at the amazon with a confounding mixture of disdain and mild disappointment. “It says so in the first epistle to Timothy.”
“I’m not taking fashion advice from Paul and his little twink,” Callie said dismissively, “and neither should you.”
“The apostles weren’t gay!” the other girl squeaked, turning even pinker at the mere thought of the amazon’s insinuation. “They were righteous, Godly men.”
“They were twelve dudes following their lover around Syria,” Callie jeered, entirely unafraid of a little spurious blasphemy. “Judas even kissed him right in front of a bunch of Romans.”
“On the cheek!” she shrieked.
“That specific time, sure,” the taller girl laughed, hiding a darker current under her tongue as her hard eyes grew serious. “If you can’t handle a little skinship between pastors, then it’ll turn your stomach when you hear about what they do to little boys.”
She’d been speaking autobiographically, of course, but her shorter classmate took it as a cutting remark regarding events close to her own life, mistakenly believing Callie was better-informed than she was.
“That’s low, Brambell, even for you,” she chided, fuming over some feud that the amazon knew nothing about. “Those allegations never turned-up anything substantial, and Pastor Gary is a valued member of the community.”
Callie simply stared at her, nonplussed. “I literally have no idea what you’re talking about, and I genuinely do not care.”
“I’m just saying,” Megan muttered in the cadence and tone of someone who had been told what ‘facts’ to repeat. “But like … ⸻ they don’t actually do that, right?”
Thoroughly uninterested in litigating the questionable ethics and exploits of the clergy, the taller girl merely shrugged, ending the line of questioning in favour of circling back. “So what, are we pals now or something? ‘Cause if we’ve got nothing else to talk about, I want to get back to my lunch.”
Assuming her classmate had no more threats in her, Callie turned back towards the breezeway and made to leave; she stopped as she felt a tug on her sleeve, fixing Megan with a bemused half-smile as she contemplated how much courage it had taken for the other girl to touch something so sinful.
“Hey, so, like,” Megan stammered, working her way through something she clearly found important, “there’s going to be this party at my mom’s place this weekend. My older brother is throwing it.”
“... And?” Callie replied uninterestedly. “I hope your brother has fun with his devotionals or whatever.”
“No, like, it’s a legit party,” the other girl explained, ignoring the amazon’s barbs. “Like with drinks and stuff.” Grasping at straws she couldn’t quite understand, it was impossible to tell if she was trying to hype-up the gathering or decry its baser qualities. “My brother’s in college.”
“Good for him.” Annoyed, she stood with her arms crossed. “Why should I care?”
“I’m telling you so that you know not to go if someone invites you,” Megan snipped back in an overly-petulant tone. “Everyone’s always asking you to come to stuff ‘cause of your sigma rizz, but I don’t want you to wreck the vibes.”
“I’m sure you can manage that without me,” Callie returned drily.
No longer interested in playing Megan’s games, she left without so much as acknowledging their ‘agreement’. As far as the taller girl knew the situation would simply resolve itself; either Megan would hold up her end or she wouldn’t, but the longer the stretch of time between the actual event and the ensuing rumour the easier it would be to defeat. It wasn’t exactly a secret that the other girl had it in for Callie, so all she could do was hope that the conversation in the breezeway was the end of her troubles.
Though she’d planned to leave things with Megan at a comfortable and ignorant distance, reality would soon have other plans ⸻ or, more accurately, the Veil itself had something else in mind, assisted by the two sorceresses.
“Nothing was particularly off for the majority of your shopping trip this weekend,” Genie announced at a ‘family meeting’ after dinner that night, “but there was a brief moment where you came into contact with something concerning.”
“Wait, hold on,” Callie piped-up with the most words she’d spoken at home that week, “are you saying that you were like … spying on us while we were downtown?”
“More accurately I was on a walk with Xena,” the djinn answered, confirming the taller girl’s suspicion that she’d fallen for the loveable snow dog, “but Kelly and I were passively monitoring the situation around you in hopes that we might catch a glimpse of what’s targeting Jersey.”
“So did you?” she snapped back with far more reflexive bark than she’d wanted; anything involving the safety of her little sister had started to hit differently after their first run-in with the cult and it had a tendency to rapidly spike the wolf’s temper.
“Not exactly,” Genie admitted sourly, then paused before adding, “but the fact that you encountered anything at all is proof of the severity of the situation.”
“Genie’s sense for this sort of thing is better than mine,” Kelly continued for her, “so while it’s not surprising that I didn’t notice it myself, that level of subtlety is very worrying. With a spell that’s this far-reaching and relatively inelegant in its targeting, it should be broadcasting itself quite loudly to any other magic-users nearby.”
“Then why haven’t we managed to trace it?” Jersey asked, confused by the details of the magic. “You can see the ‘links’ on me, and you noticed something concerning at the shops, so why isn’t that enough to trail it back to its source?”
“It’s a bit like firing a gun in the woods,” Genie began, answering with a helpful illustration. “We can think of the ‘links’ as bullet-holes left in a tree, and what I sensed this weekend was something like hearing the sound of a gunshot; both things give us an idea of the target and the direction of the shooter, but there’s no way we can take a peek at their driver’s license based on that information alone. Trying to learn something like their name or home address from just the construction of the spell by itself is impossible as all those identifying details are obscured by the Veil.”
“So you’re saying we’d need to catch the ‘gunman’ in the act,” Callie summarized for her, gaining a better understanding of the djinn’s plan. “And the best way to do that would be to get him to shoot as many times as possible without him leaving his hunting blind.”
“Which also means exposing one or both of you to said gunfire, yes,” Genie agreed, outlining the inherent risk that the taller girl had left unsaid. “I wish there was a less-dangerous way to go about it, but the alternative would be akin to searching the entire forest by hand one fallen nettle at a time, and even the daftest hunter would catch on to us long before we spotted him in turn.”
Clenching her teeth, Callie let a frustrated breath spill from behind her fangs. Though they’d only known each other for a handful of weeks, her involvement with the djinn had become maddeningly complicated. As far as she could tell Genie significantly outclassed their opponent in the realm of magic, but actually confronting them meant involving themselves with the mundane world and that wasn’t an arena in which the djinn could easily operate. It was a bit like a grizzly bear trying to fight a school of salmon: laughably easy on paper, but annoyingly slippery in real life.
Really, the wolf herself had been far more effective at dispatching threats surrounding Jersey than either Kelly or her wish-granting girlfriend, though her methods were perhaps far less subtle. A perfect hunting animal, Callie was stymied by her inability to discover the game trail but became a remarkable assassin once she’d picked-up the scent.
Perhaps, then, it was time for the ‘family’ to combine their talents.
“What if you used me as bait?” Callie began, forming her plan as she voiced it aloud. “I’m more or less bullet-proof, and in a straight-up fight I could take just about anyone.”
“That’s all well and good,” Jersey interjected, a worried look on her face, “but I don't fancy the idea of you putting yourself in danger.”
“We don’t really have a choice,” Callie countered. “Genie and Kelly can’t spend all their time protecting us and the cult already has its hooks in you. If the only way to get them to show their hand is to make a move then I’d much rather I be the one in the crosshairs.” Enjoying the story? Read on at novelping(.)com.
“She does have a point,” Kelly admitted, though she clearly shared the younger sister’s reservations. “The problem there is that most of Callie’s strength is wrapped-up in her ‘beast mode’, if you will, and she’s not exactly the most cogent strategist when she’s wolfed-out.”
“So let’s fix it,” the taller girl stated authoritatively, pushing her plan. “Jersey still has some wish magic left, right? We can use that to make me more lucid.”
“That’s certainly one method, yes,” Genie allowed, carefully considering the situation, “but I don’t think we’d need to go that far. It’s a question of maturation more than anything else; Callie’s wolf form is still as adolescent as she is.”
“Jersey’s in danger now,” Callie snapped back, an angry snarl lingering behind her fangs. “I’m not going to sit around and wait to finish ‘growing up’.”
“Nor will you have to,” the djinn responded calmly, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. “I’m suggesting that this is a problem we can rectify with an enchantment ⸻ or well two different spells, actually, but the end goal is achievable.”
As Genie began to explain the plan, everyone had to admit that it seemed simple enough. Drawing on the dark-haired woman’s somewhat considerable experience in weaving defensive magic for the sake of someone else, the djinn would entangle Callie in the spell targeting Jersey, essentially allowing the former to supernaturally ‘body-block’ for the latter and ensure that any retaliatory harm would strike the wolf first; furthermore, the elder sister would register the same as the younger if any cultist mage decided to check the links, thus allowing Callie to be the bait.
To solve the problem of her altered cognition, the wolf only needed a ‘relatively minor’ enchantment, one that Kelly herself would be able to cast. Saving Jersey’s wishes for something else seemed like a wonderful boon and Callie was quick to agree to Genie’s proposal; unfortunately, the wolf was far too ignorant of how magic worked and while her later discovery of the associated ‘cost’ didn’t strike her as particularly odious, Kelly’s choice of the intended payer irritated her protective instinct.
Understandably cagey about the specifics of the enchantment, Callie’s mum waited until the two could be alone in her room to go over the finer points. Taking a seat next to the taller girl on her bed, she gingerly outlined a timeline she knew the wolfish girl would find inordinately frustrating.
“Her wish appears to be fudging some of the details,” Kelly explained cautiously, very aware of her daughter’s testy temper, “maybe on account of how dearly she wants to be a mum, but Jersey’s due date isn’t that far off.”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Callie snipped back, brows furrowing as she fixed the older woman with a serious look. “The enchantment is supposed to be for me, right?”
“That’s true, yes,” she allowed hesitantly, “but magic isn’t something I can just ‘do’ for free, do you understand? The mana has to come from somewhere.”
“So take it from me,” the taller girl demanded, crossing her arms defiantly. “We don’t have to bring Jersey into this.”
“I would if I could, sweet,” Kelly continued, “but I need to have a, uh … ‘claim’ to it. Does that make sense?”
Callie could imagine what kind of ‘claim’ her mum was insinuating, but she wanted the other woman to say it herself. “And what kind of ‘claim’ are you trying to steal from Jersey?”
“Just the standard sort of claim,” she answered uneasily, dancing around the truth. “It’s in a bunch of fairy tales, innit? Sorcerers asking for something in particular in exchange for spinning straw into gold or making poisoned apples and whatnot.”
The taller girl wasn’t aware she’d been growling until Kelly backed away slightly, putting distance between herself and her daughter.
“I’m not going to run off with her after!” the blonde protested, waving off her aggression. “All I’m saying is that as soon as Jersey’s up for being a mum the second time ⸻ which is sooner than you’d think, I’ll bet ⸻ then she and I will expand her family by plus one and sort everything out.”
“She’s not some kind of baby factory!” Callie snapped, the rumbling in her chest growing louder. “I’m not going to let you use our daughters as, like … ⸻ spell fuel or whatever.”
Kelly shot her a knowing look that struck the younger girl squarely in her core, eliciting a rising sense of abashed guilt. “And have you told Jersey about this ‘our’ of yours?”
“That’s not the point,” she grumbled, deflecting away from her personal feelings. “I’m not going to let you use Jersey or our ⸻ … her little ones as mana batteries. The whole reason I want the enchantment in the first place is so that I can protect her, and let her be a mom and raise her kids in peace.”
It was a pointless little fantasy, but if Callie had actually accepted any wishes after she’d picked up Genie’s bottle she would’ve tried to spend them on Jersey anyway. As far as the wolf was concerned, nothing she’d ever done or wanted to become for herself mattered in the grand scheme of things. Her career had crashed and burned before it ever got off the runway, sure, but it wasn’t ever going anywhere to begin with; a single cog timed incorrectly to the rest of the machine, her outreach was just as shallow as her goals, themselves common to all animals: survival. She was alive simply because she wasn’t yet dead.
She’d taken a shot at college based on what came naturally to her rather than as a means to an end. Words weren’t a particularly valuable currency when employed for oneself, but repeating someone else’s was worth a decent chunk of change. It was depressing, obviously, but the money could’ve been blood or water or air or anything else ⸻ anything that prolonged her existence. Paradoxically, she wasn’t even interested in continuing her thread for the sake of it; the one chance she’d allowed herself had only made the rest of her life that much more difficult, a burden she’d been absolved of through Jersey’s kindness in turn.
Callie had always told herself that whenever it was she died, she wouldn’t particularly care how many people made it to her funeral ⸻ or if anyone went at all.
Jersey was different.
As drenched as she was in the inconsequentiality of her own life, Callie admired that the younger girl cared about what happened after. Environmentally and socially conscious, Jersey spoke about a better world and took meaningful steps in that direction ⸻ sure, they were now the tiny steps of her size 3 heels, but the point was that she hadn’t stopped moving towards a ‘tomorrow’. Where Callie was fatalistic, Jersey somehow held onto an unshakable spark of optimism even when absolutely everything was as bleak as it could be. No doubt she would pass that spark on to her children, and the idea that the world would become a better place because of them was the surest and only meaningful belief she’d ever possessed.
It was for that reason that she was willing to fight for Jersey’s sake, and for the safety of her children.
Even still there was a small hope she’d long clutched between her greedy paws, but she held it so tightly precisely because of its impossibility. The little darling Jersey was carrying was Genie’s, obviously, and Callie’s dreams of being sire and co-parent was a delusion she wouldn’t dare burden her younger sister with. Perhaps ‘Auntie Callie’ was as close as she’d ever get, and that would have to be good enough.
“I hate to be the one to break it to you,” Kelly began, drawing the melancholy canine out of her thoughts, “but that’s already the case. Dornollë used some of their mana to draw you into the wish.”
Advancing again, the taller girl’s growl had become a fierce snarl.
“For just the one enchantment!” her mum exclaimed, finding she’d ran out of bed to retreat down. “As far as I know Genie might’ve already broken the link, and if she hasn’t then she’ll do so at the conclusion of Jersey’s wishes. My point here is that I’ll do the same, and it won’t hurt her or our daughter any. She doesn’t even need to claim me as the sire afterward, either ⸻ the major stipulation here is that I can only draw that mana from my own offspring.”
On some level the assertion made sense to Callie, and doubtlessly Jersey would make an excellent mother, but she hated the idea of forcing the other girl into something. If she had her own way the wolf would just as soon take on any burden or inconvenience, but while she could certainly bear the kid herself it wasn’t exactly the smartest idea to get herself knocked-up before immediately going off to war with a cult.
That did leave the one alternative, though.
“You already have a big family, right?” Callie asked, removing her shirt so that she wouldn’t end up ripping it.
“Uh, yes?” Kelly replied warily, eyeing her daughter with a growing desire visible beneath her pencil skirt.
“So one more pup wouldn’t break the bank,” she continued, stripping the (very expensive) bra they’d bought the other day.
“Nnno…?” her mum admitted, evidently clueless as to which station the wolf’s train of thought was headed towards.
“Perfect,” Callie growled between lengthening fangs, hurriedly ridding herself of her jeans before her monstrous form tore through them completely.
“Um,” Kelly squeaked as the rapidly-growing beast cornered her, pushing her down against the bed, “... what are we doing?”
Snarling ferociously, the wolf tore at the other woman’s clothing with sharp claws.
“I’m giving you a claim.”