carl@fire

Becca blinked. Fuck, where am I now? She looked around, taking in the room that was like a luxury suite at one of the fancy hotels she'd stayed in during vacations with her parents when she was younger. A gorgeous carpet with a bright floral pattern covered the floor in one part, the chair she was sitting in felt like it was covered in silk, the bed was wide enough to sleep five or six people comfortably, and then there was a massive window covering one end of the room which caused her to get out of her chair and stare in amazement as she approached.

It's so beautiful. She was incredibly high up, and her window overlooked a body of water so bright and greenish-blue that she'd instantly begun to imagine diving in. Or taking the boat out with Nu and Lindsey for an afternoon. I bet there's all kinds of amazing creatures we could see just with our masks and snorkels. The thought of her closest friends brought a pang of guilt with it. I shouldn't have blown them off to come up here. Stupid.

Yes. You are stupid, Rebecca.

Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a breath, the alien thoughts distracting her. She felt an unexpected flow of air and looked down, and her eyes bulged. What…

Gone were the jeans and stylish sweater she'd thrown on when she'd heard that Bobby was having friends over. She rubbed her fingers on the fabric of the white dress she wore, but it was smooth and soft like nothing she'd ever felt before, fitting perfectly in a style that, as she now admired herself in the room's corner mirror, made her a vision of elegance and refinement. Her socks were similarly gone, and her feet were now covered on the bottoms by some sort of low-rise shoe which managed to remain firmly attached while only just covering her toes and kissing her heel.

These befit a goddess. You should feel honored.

Becca started and pressed her hands to her head. "What the fuck are you?" she exclaimed. Did I really get a para—

Refer to me as a parasite again, and I will expunge your mind from this body.

Her thoughts ground to a stop and so did her body, save for her left hand, which flexed its now-trembling fingers out of habit.

She felt a heat in her mind, for lack of a better way to describe it, and with it came the certainty that if it were to spread, there would be nothing left of her.

"Um, I'm sorry? I'm really sorry," Becca said, wrapping her arms around herself as she looked into the mirror. "Please don't—"

Return to the chair where you awoke.

Becca hesitated for an instant before darting back across the room, falling over the side of the chair in her haste to return to it. "P-please don't kill me," she whispered.

That depends on how useful you are to me.

"W-w-what d-do you w-want me t-t-t-t-to d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-do?" Becca said, reverting in terror to the stutter she'd had and worked through with a speech therapist when she was much younger as she huddled in the chair, feeling some small, irrational measure of safety from its high back and arms.

Nothing you would be truly opposed to, Rebecca. I know your thoughts, your dreams, and your deepest desires. I can make them all come true.

A memory that had never happened rose to the fore. Nu and Lindsey sat in their usual triangle across from her on the upper-back deck of the boat, glasses of wine in the holders of their chair. The sea around them was impossibly clear, and she felt that she could see straight to the bottom any time she looked over the side. The waves rocked the boat gently, and—

This or any other fantasy you may have are trifles for me to deliver to my followers. You can think of it as a future benefit of our cooperation.

"W-w-what are you?" Becca asked. The vividness of the fantasy had relaxed her some, but it had also brought with it a new kind of fear at how easily her mind was being manipulated.

Manipulated is such a negative view of something I did for your benefit.

Becca's breath stopped in her chest at the display of her thoughts being read.

I am a being beyond your comprehension. You have a choice. You can be useful to me and be rewarded for the effort I'll be spared, or you can resist and be destroyed. Which will you choose, Rebecca?

"I w-w-w-want-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-to lllllllllive," Becca managed, her tongue feeling like a stone block in her mouth. She felt her nose beginning to run, and the outer corners of her squeezed-shut eyes felt wet as she lay curled into the tightest ball she could manage in the chair, her hands clasping her head. Please, just send me back. I don't know what you did to me, but I don't want to be here! I'm not useful to you, I can't do any—

Nonsense. If I send you back now, how do you think Marianne will feel when Carl tells her how you followed him around when it was just the two of you, how you lied to him about her being home while you were supposed to be supervising their daughters, how you claimed you'd been making progress in your attempts to fix things with her when you've managed no such thing? Perhaps I should have you throw yourself at him naked as you did when you were younger?

Memories of each event flashed before her closed eyes, culminating her sister staring at her with a look of utter disgust, and she descended to a new level of despair unlike anything she'd ever felt previously. She sank deeper into the chair, not so much cradling her head in her hands as letting it rest there because nothing she did mattered now that this thing inside her was intent on ruining her life.

Perhaps that was too far. You mortals are so easy to crush. Fine. I have no way to send you back to your world at this moment even if I wanted to. My power is still recovering, and such things will be beyond me for a while longer.

Thanks. Really fucking helpful in boosting my morale. Becca let out a sigh and lay motionless and empty-minded for a moment. What do I have to do to be considered useful?

The other voice in her head was silent for a short while. For now, repair your relationship with Carl as best you can. I will lend my aid when you need it.

What do you mean "for now"? How fucking long is—

Your sister, Marianne. For your whole life, you wished to emulate her. To reach her level. To have her accept you. She never has, has she?

Becca sniffled, and a dark, uncontrollable sorrow sprang up from within at having her most secret thoughts spoken so plainly to her. I always fucked things up too much between us.

You did. It was your fault nearly every time that you grew further apart. Suppose… Suppose one of my goals is for you to finally receive that acknowledgment from her. To be regarded as someone who overtook her. To have her feel a sense of regret that she never put in the effort to help you in fixing matters between the two of you.

Becca wiped at her nose, and a tiny, almost imperceptible light of hope flared into existence in the back of her mind.

Yes, that would be nice, wouldn't it?

I'd… I'd really like that..

Her surroundings changed, and a happy, smiling Marianne stood just in front of her. The older woman leaned in and gave her a hug that warmed her down to her soul. "You're the best sister I could ask for," her sister whispered.

Becca felt her eyes start to sting, and she squeezed her sister tighter. "I'm so sorry," she whispered back with tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot, and I know I'm fucked up, but I just wanted you to be proud of me. Just once, I wanted you to look up to me. I'm sorry, Annie."

Marianne rubbed her back in a small circle as she bawled, but the feeling slowly dissipated until she was again alone, crying in a chair on another planet.

You can have that.

The voice that was her but not her had said it, and she had no way to resist.

Becca scrubbed at her face with her hands. She'd found a sink in an adjoining restroom along with a chair that had a conspicuous hole in its seat which she couldn't see the bottom of.

Such a barbaric use of magic.

The voice in her head that was her but not her had grown more casual after her acceptance of its offer, and it now tended to remark on various things, usually to express disdain.

You mortals do many things I find worthy of disdain.

And it also continued to refer to her and others as 'mortals', which obviously meant that it seemed to think it wasn't, and—

My, you're a clever one.

Becca checked her appearance in the mirror again. Her face was still splotchy, and her eyes were red, and it was very, very obvious that she'd just been crying.

Maybe you shouldn't have been crying then.

The woman took a shuddering breath with her hands clasping the sides of the sink, doing her best to imagine again the sense of being out on the waves in order to steady herself. The deal she'd been offered to avoid being expunged seemed great, and she wasn't going to think any more about it.

Good. I hope we can have a fruitful partnership. No more crying though, if you please. Our face should be beautiful. Or at least the best as you can manage as a human.

Becca scowled at herself in the small mirror over the sink.

Would you feel more pleased knowing that between you and Marianne, you're the more beautiful?

No. Are you going to be talking constantly from now on? Because that's gonna be really distracting.

Your offense I'll overlook on this occasion, but do not imagine I will permit you to speak with me as an equal.

She sighed. This will take some getting used to. She smoothed her dress out, expecting it to have been wrinkled, but the fabric seemed impervious to remaining mussed, immediately reverting to its original state. It was also cozy in a way that nothing else she'd ever worn was, even despite the knowledge that she wore nothing underneath.

It's impossible for any being to peer up the skirt of this dress if that's what you're concerned about. It will not billow in wind, it will not soak in rain, and it will not burn in fire. Your modesty has never been so assured.

Well that's something, at least. After taking one last look in the mirror, feeling weirdly like she was going to a school dance from how she was obsessing about her appearance, she made for the door.

Billy Calloway, was it?

Becca stumbled. Fuck, that was almost twenty years ago. Don't remind me. She pulled open the door and walked into Carl, his hand raised to knock.

"Oh, uh, hey. Whoa, that's uh…" Carl took a few steps back and glanced down at her, which was more attention than he'd ever given her appearance despite her provocations.

The dress itself was snug, form-fitting but not to the point of being lewd, and it covered her fully from neck to ankle, with its slim sleeves stopping at her wrists.

"Like it?" she said on reflex as she posed to accentuate her chest and smirked a little. A couple seconds later she frowned and assumed a more normal posture. "Um, I mean, forget that. It's a nice dress, right?"

You really are an idiot, aren't you?

"Yeah, cool dress," Carl said after just long enough that the situation became awkward. "You, uh, okay?" he asked in a noticeably less concerned variant of the concerned tone he'd used earlier.

"Yeah, all good," she said, suddenly wondering whether that was actually the case.

If you're having second thoughts, you can choose the other option at any time.

Becca swallowed. Nope, no second thoughts! Looking forward to this partnership!

She didn't think any further about the deal she'd agreed to.