After a decade of superheroics, KATE MORGAN finds herself in control
of strange and eldritch forces beyond all mortal ken -- and that
includes her own! Thus begins the


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# NUMBER 2 - "BETTER TO BLEED THAN BURN" #
# ------- [8F-215] ------------ [PW-59] ------- #

-------------- HOUSE MORGANA --------------------

Kate Morgan (SHIMMER), age 30. She/her.
The Queen of Cups. The ghost who never died. The darkness, reflected in light.

Pilar "Pill" Garcia, age 34. She/her.
Kate's protector. The collector. The knower. The laughter in the dark.

Jonah Jacobs (KLUTZ), age 26. He/him.
Kate's lover. The cursed man.

Claire Belden (RAINSHADE), age 31. She/her.
Kate's enemy. Kate's friend. The light, reflected in darkness. The one
who borrows. The weaver of webs.

... and, a kitten, as yet unnamed.

-------------------------------------------------

Kate stares at the tarot card bearing her face. "I don't know what
this is supposed to mean."

Pill nods. "I'll try to explain as best I can. You have salt?"

"Of course." She opens the cupboard over the stove. There are
twenty boxes of kosher salt.

Pill is pleased. "Girl after my own heart. Let's make some
mother-flipping protective circles."

As they get to work, Pill asks her if she knows about the Lullaby.

"Sure," says Kate. "Series of spells that put Venus to sleep. Broke
last summer, and since then, mancers popped up everywhere."

"Right. Layers of magic piled on over the course of millennia. But
it all started with the very first spell. Guess who cast it?"

"The Queen of Cups?"

"Yup. Very first Queen of Cups way back in Lemuria times was the
most powerful sorcerer the earth has ever seen."

"So I'm supposed to be the latest in a long line?" scoffs Kate.

"Not so long," says Pill. "Can't say for sure how many there have
been, but it's not like the previous Queen of Cups up and died and
boom, now you're the Queen of Cups. She is only chosen when she is
needed, and she's only needed when there's some mystical end of the
world threat."

"Like Venus waking up?"

Pill shakes her head. "There are more dangerous things than Venus.
Don't know what it is yet, only that it tried to kill you in your
bathtub."

"Not the first time," says Kate bitterly. "Think I'm just gonna
stop washing."

"You do you," shrugs Pill. "And we know it's going to try again
tonight." She sniffs the air. "It's here. It's now. Can you feel it?"

"Yes. Outside. Pressing against the walls. Against the glass. It's cold."

"It's looking for a way in. A crack it can slip through."

The black kitten mews anxiously. She stalks about the living room,
head low but alert, her tail flitting back and forth.

"She's looking for it too," explains Pill. "To warn us. What's her name?"

"She doesn't have one yet."

Pill is horrified. "Give her one."

"What? Right now?"

"Yes, right now!" She snaps her fingers impatiently.

"Okay, okay, jeez. Cembalo."

The cat turns and looks at her, then blinks her eyes in agreement.

"Always name your cat," says Pill urgently. "Cembalo. What does it mean?"

"Italian for harpsichord."

Pill throws a glance at the grand piano that dominates the living
room. "You're really into music, huh?"

"I'm literally a concert pianist."

Cembalo yowls, zooming out of the room. Pill throws a glance at
Kate, and the two of them scramble, chasing after the cat as its tiny
legs skitter down the stairs. Kate flips the switch as she rounds the
corner on the landing, but the lights don't come on. Best not to waste
time. With a flick of her wrist she creates a dozen small hollow
birds. She throws her arm up; forgot how bright they were, how white,
how searing. Beating tiny hearts and tiny wings, they light the way.

The women find the cat scratching and hissing at a spot on the
concrete floor. The birds might not have brains, but they're smart
enough to keep their distance. Whether it's from the spot, or the cat,
or both, Kate can't say.

The spot is squirming. That's the first and only word that comes to
Kate's mind, and no, she can't explain it.

"Don't touch it," says Pill urgently.

Kate glares at her. "Wasn't planning on it." But when she glances
back at the spot, she plainly sees her own hand reaching toward it, an
inch away from the surface. She pulls it back, horrified.

Pill reaches into her duster, pulling out a vial of saffron. She
crumbles a few threads between her fingers, letting it fall onto the
spot. The squirming intensifies, then stops, leaving an ugly, knotted
bulge in its place.

"That's handy," says Kate.

"You have saffron, don't you?"

"It's kinda pricey."

"It's kinda necessary," says Pill. "If you survive, buy some saffron."

"I think I'd feel a little less on edge if you didn't keep saying
'if you survive'."

"I know," says Pill. "But I need you on edge. Especially tonight.
Whatever's coming for you, this is their best chance of getting you."

"And why is that?"

"Because you're new. Vulnerable. Not nearly as powerful as you're gonna be."

"Right," says Kate, frowning.

"You don't believe me?"

"I believe something's coming at me. That much is obvious. As for
the rest of it?" She scrunches up her nose.

"Hold that thought," says Pill. "Upstairs. Kitchen. Now." She
bounds up the steps. Kate scoops up her kitten and follows, flanked on
either side by the birds.

Spreading over the glass in the kitchen windows are the most
delicate hairline fractures. But it's not a web of jagged lines. These
are sinuous spirals and baroque curlicues, moving slowly and seemingly
randomly but with one line never crossing another.

"If it breaks," says Pill ominously.

"I got this." Mirror magic was the first thing Kate taught herself.
A window is a sort of mirror, or mirror enough at any rate that Kate
can trap the curling darkness within its own reflection, then cause
the glass to go perfectly dark.

"Neat trick, that," admires Pill. She glances into the living room,
and points at the south-facing window, which is likewise afflicted.
With an unhurried, confident gait, Kate makes her way into the room,
trapping and then banishing the intruder.

She's about to suggest they do the same in each room of the house
when her front door suddenly opens. In a panic, Pill pushes Kate into
a protective circle of salt, then hops in after her.

Jonah closes the door behind him and beams. "Happy birthday,
sweetheart! I see Simon gave you the cat. And you're Pill, right?
Haven't seen you since that whole thing. What's with the salt?"

"It came in with him," says Pill quietly.

"I know," says Kate. "Just my luck."

Jonah flinches. "You have that look, that look that you get when I
screw things up."

The room goes dark. Darker than anything Kate's ever seen. Darker
than she thought was possible. The weirdest thing? The creepiest
thing? Her little birds are still flapping about, still glowing
intensely white. Kate can see that much, but nothing else. One of them
hovers mere inches from her fingers, and Kate can't see her own hand.

"Jonah?" Kate calls out.

"You will be the last," says a voice in Jonah's throat.

"There will be another," spits back Pill.

The darkness laughs, bitter and unamused. Beneath it, Kate hears
Jonah gasping.

"No." Pill grabs hold of Kate's wrist. At least, Kate thinks it's
Pill. "You can't leave the circle."

Whispers in the dark. "The salt will not hold forever."

"Long enough," retorts Pill.

"It's going to kill him," says Kate.

"Yes," says Pill. "And you have to let it."

"Like hell I am!"

"Kate, he's as good as dead. You try to save him, you'll die too.
And then you will be the last."

"I don't know what that means!"

"If you die now, the magic -- the old magic, the deep magic, what
we need to beat whatever this is?, the only thing that can beat
whatever this is? -- it dies with you. There will never be another
Queen of Cups."

"You will be the last," says the darkness.

"I'm getting really tired of hearing that," says Kate. She tries to
step forward, but finds that she can't. Somehow Pill is binding her
within the circle. "Let go of my arm, Pill."

"I won't. You can hate me for it after, but I can't let you die."

"But that's just it," says Kate. "I died, in space. With Cal and
Julie Ann. And then some future version of Claire Belden broke time to
save us."

"Claire broke time," repeats Pill, dumbfounded.

"Yes!" says Kate. "That's why there are two Thirteens."

The darkness hisses.

Pill lets go of Kate's arm. "There are two?"

"Yes," says Kate. "I didn't know that before, but now I do."
Claire's memories are still mixed up with hers, and one just comes
bubbling up to the surface. "David has one." She stops, listens to
Claire's whisper in her ear: I gave you more than I took. My umbrella
is in your closet. "I have the other."

"You have the sword of stories."

"In my closet."

"Think of it. Quickly. Imagine its weight in your hand."

But Kate doesn't have to imagine it; it's there. The sword is
glowing, black and red and green and also a color that's none of those
things, a color there isn't a word for. The entire room is white now,
so white it hurts the eyes, so white the birds look gray by
comparison.

Everything is gray, like a pencil sketch. All the color is gone.
Jonah's there, just outside the circle of salt, a mass of gray lines.
Kate can see his skeleton underneath, his organs, and the flickering
black darkness worming its way inside of him.

"Do you trust me, Kate?" says Pill.

"Sure."

"I need you to run him through with the sword."

"Trusting you a lot less now."

"It will save him," says Pill. "But only if you trust that it will.
I'm talking one hundred percent. Doubt it even a little, and it will
kill him."

"Telling me that actually makes it harder," snaps Kate.

"Do it now, or he'll die anyway."

The see-through pencil sketch screams as the ancient sword plunges
into its belly. But the screams aren't coming from Jonah's mouth.
They're coming from the writhing mass of angry black worms. It flees
from the sword, from the light, tumbling out of Jonah's back and into
Kate's grand piano.

With a cacophonous mashing of keys and splintering of wood, the
piano collapses in on itself. Kate doesn't waste time watching it
happen; she's pulling the sword out of her boyfriend, and then pulling
her boyfriend into the circle of salt. He collapses, unconscious but
unharmed.

The room grows dark again, impossibly dark. Only this time in
addition to the birds, the sword is glowing. This provides enough
light, within the protective circle at least, for Kate to see Pill,
Jonah, and the cat.

"You said I had to let him die," says Kate, quietly and bitterly.

"That's before I knew you had the sword of Quasha Oathbreaker. That
should push the odds in our favor."

In the darkness, they hear music. A quiet, delicate grazing of
keys. Kate throws a questioning glance at Pill.

"Sorry about your piano," she says with a shrug. "On the bright
side, we can hear it even if we can't see it. It's like belling a
cat." She looks at Cembalo. "Uh, no offense."

As a witty rejoinder, the kitten curls itself in Kate's lap.

"So," says Pill. "You're supposed to be dead."

Kate nods. "Which means all this destiny stuff, prophecy stuff,
whatever? That can't be me. I'm not supposed to be some mystical
monarch. I'm supposed to be dead. Maybe there's a new Queen of Cups,
but you've got the wrong lady."

"Oh, Kate," says Pill, somewhat patronizing. "You've got it all
wrong. Hang on." She holds up one end of her duster, searching through
the pockets. "It's in here somewhere. Nope, that's not it. How about
this one? No, but that'll be handy for later. Ah. Here we are."

She pulls out a coin. It's old and misshapen. Kate doesn't
recognize the inscription, nor the mangled head in its center.

"What is it?"

"Just your run of the mill ordinary ancient coinage. Nothing
magical about it. I picked it up about fifteen years ago. I spent one
summer during college assisting this guy who basically does what I do
now, travelling around the world looking for rare and lost and
whispered-about things on behalf of people who've got deep pockets and
not much sense. How I got that job is he needed someone who could read
Hittite (I majored in ancient languages) and knew how to use a gun
(grew up hunting with my dad) and could create high-quality forgeries
for various kinds of paperwork (well, a girl has to have her
hobbies)." She awkwardly flips the coin between her fingers, then
places it back within her pocket.

"I was perfect for it," she continues. "It was like it was meant to
be. But it wasn't. I wasn't, you know, 'destined' to have that job, to
find that coin. I was just qualified. There was an opening, and I was
the right person to fill it.

"You're not 'destined' to be the Queen of Cups, Kate. But right
now?" She waves her hand at the perfect darkness. "The world needs a
Queen of Cups. And so the old magic looks around, finds someone,
chooses them. If time hadn't been screwed up, if you were dead in
space? Maybe it would have chosen somebody else. But you're here, and
it chose you."

Kate hears the darkness to her left, its music discordant and faltering.

"So it could just choose someone else," she says, trying not to be
unnerved. "It doesn't have to me."

"It chose you because you're the best for the job," says Pill. "If
there was someone better, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

A series of sharp piercing staccato notes draws their attention to
a corner of the room just in time to see one of the birds snuffed out.
Kate realizes that it wasn't the first. Only a few remain.

As if in response to her thought, the darkness quickly gobbles the
others up in a flurry of pounded keys. Kate didn't have time to sever
the spell. As the last one is snuffed out, she feels her palm burning.

"That was stupid," Kate winces. "Shoulda used a different spell."

"It's gonna spread," says Pill. "Unless." She reaches for her knife.

"I know," says Kate. "Go ahead."

Pill grabs Kate's other wrist. She draws the knife across the palm
with an admirable indifference. The burning sensation leaps from one
palm to the next, and as soon as the blood starts pouring out, the
burning disappears completely.

"Better to bleed than to burn," says Pill. She flicks the knife,
sending the blood outside the circle. It doesn't hit the floor,
instead sizzling in the air. The darkness screeches, wounded.

"Might as well put it to good use," says Kate. She winces as she
squeezes her fist, letting the blood drip at eight points of the
circle. The circle glows red, as do the other circles in the house.
All but one, the one she had placed near the door. Jonah must have
kicked the salt when he stomped into the house, must have broken the
circle. Typical.

But possibly useful. In the faint glow of her illuminated circle,
Kate can now see the shape of the thing in the darkness. It's nothing
she can describe, and it hurts to look at it.

So she looks instead at her kitten, who is licking her palm,
lapping up the blood with serene contentment. It stings like hell, but
she figures the cat has earned that much.

"Don't want to jinx it," says Pill, "but I think this might hold until dawn."

"Dawn is good, right? At dawn, it goes poof, or something like that?"

"Something like that," says Pill. "After this first night, some of
the old magic will come to you. Enough where this thing's sense of self-preservation will kick in."

Kate glances at the shape in the darkness, then back to Pill.
"Enough where I can destroy it, then?"

Amid a thunderous tumble of piano keys, Kate hears a voice. "I am
only the first. We are many. We are glorious."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," says Kate. She closes her eyes, concentrating
on the circles, feeling each of them in turn. Even the broken one she
can feel. She locates it, fixes it in her mind, finds even the single
point in which it was broken. "But I can kill you, yes? In the
morning?"

"You can try. I do not fear you, daughter of drowning."

Well, that's an epithet she's not found of. Kate silently breathes
the word "salt" into Thirteen, then passes the sword and the message
to Pill. Gently, she strokes her cat.

"If you do not fear me," says Kate, who for the record is
completely terrified herself, "why are you going to run come the
dawn?"

The shape in the darkness rears up, indignant. But its music is
melodious, bemused. "You are as careless as you are stupid."

"You didn't answer my question."

"You will be the last."

"Probably," says Kate with a shrug. As she completes the motion,
she lets her hand fall on Pill's knee, the uncut palm facing upwards.
She squeezes her other hand tightly, filling it with fresh blood. "But
you'll not live to see it. Leave now with your life."

"What?" it laughs.

Kate feels the salt fill her hand. (Good going, Pill.) "Leave now
with your life. Stay a moment longer, and you die at dawn."

"Empty threats!" mocks the voice beneath the notes. "Empty threats
from an unschooled witch."

"Then you refuse," says Kate. "So be it."

She opens her blood hand, letting it fly into the air. Again it
sizzles. The shape shifts and staggers backwards. Kate can feel it
enter the broken circle.

Without wasting a moment, she steps forward, quickly closing the
gap with her salt hand. That circle glows like the others.

The shape shrieks in D minor. "Trapped! Trapped!"

"In a circle of binding, yes," says Kate. "Whatever you are? You
are as careless as you are stupid."

Calmly, coolly, she steps back into the protection of her own circle.

"Let it wait until dawn," she says. "Let it wait, and worry, and wonder."

COPYRIGHT 2023 AMABEL HOLLAND

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