Katalepsis

Raine — my Raine, my wild and uncaged salvation, my knight in grease-stained clothes and stale sweat, my bolt from the blue on the edge of annihilation, my glorious rippling nephilim of steel-cable muscle and irrepressible vitality, with one arm freed from the breach in her straitjacket, growling with the pleasure of victory — crushed me against her front, dragged me deeper into her cell, and turned her opposite shoulder to repel my pursuer.

For I had found my unquiet heart beating in another’s chest; but the ordeal was not over yet.

The thick steel door of Raine’s high security cell flew open, carried by the momentum of my entry. Rust-caked hinges screamed a banshee wail, strangled by the crack-slam of metal on concrete when the door hit the wall. An almighty clang faded into a tremulous judder of tortured metal, as the door vibrated after the impact.

A roiling cloud of charcoal shadows filled the doorway, like ink suspended in storm-tossed waters.

Night Praem.

Raine bared her teeth behind the metal mesh of her muzzle. Her eyes narrowed and stilled with total focus. Her muscles flexed and tensed beneath the fabric of her straitjacket, preparing to toss me out of harm’s way and leap at this nightmare apparition. I felt the shiver and shudder pass through Raine’s body — the flush of adrenaline readying her for a fight. My knight, my knife, my Raine, ready to throw herself into lethal combat for a girl who — as far as she was concerned — she had only just met.

“Don’t!” I shrieked. “Raine, no! She’s— it’s Praem! She’s one of us! One of us! Stay!”

Raine held.

She went completely still, eyes fixed on Praem, every muscle pulled tight. Like a hound, awaiting her next command.

And Night Praem — that roiling cloud of black-shadow membranes — remained on the far side of the threshold.

The echoes of the door’s rust-streaked wail finally faded away, vanishing down the gloomy corridor outside. Silence descended, thick and cloying and poised on the edge of a knife. It was like the quiet in a dark forest at night, after the scream of a prey animal is silenced by a ruptured throat and a gush of blood. Raine stared at Night Praem, every muscle held in perfect readiness. Night Praem shifted and flowed like molluscoid membranes in an ocean current.

“She’s not— hic!” I panted, hiccuping painfully. “Not attacking us. Raine. Raine, it’s okay, I think. S-stand down? Stand down? Please? Down, girl?”

Raine took a deep breath and finally relaxed her combat-ready poise, straightening up and rolling her neck. She eased up with her right arm, no longer crushing me against her side.

“Ah … ” I winced with sudden intercostal muscle pain, massaging my ribs.

Raine was slowly turning her head from side to side, eyes still glued to Night Praem above the cage of her muzzle, trying to examine her from different angles. Raine said: “Wounded?”

“M-me?” I stammered. “No, no. I just didn’t realise how hard you were squeezing my ribcage.”

Raine chuckled. “Better get used to that, sweet thing. I play rough.”

“I-I know that! Tch!”

“Mm,” Raine grunted. “Now call me a good girl.”

“Pardon? Sorry?” I blinked several times, a little lost. Raine was still staring at Night Praem, who was still hovering in the doorway like a portent of sudden and inescapable doom. I glanced between Raine and Praem, unsure if I’d heard that correctly. “Is this really the time for … well … that sort of … game?”

Raine purred: “‘Stay’, ‘down girl’. You’ve already started, Heather. An obedient hound needs reinforcement and reward. Mostly reward.” She finally pulled her eyes away from the roiling mass of membranous shadow and glanced down at me, her soft brown irises smouldering like banked fires. She wasn’t smiling. An involuntary shudder gripped me between the legs. My mouth went dry. “Now call me a good girl,” Raine repeated. “Or you might lose control.”

“ … g-good girl.” My voice shook. I swallowed hard to stop from hiccuping. “Good girl, Raine. Good girl. Thank you. Good girl.”

Raine broke into a toothy grin. “You don’t have any treats for me, but we’ll address that later.”

“Okay,” I squeaked.

“Now,” Raine said, and gestured at Night Praem in the doorway. “We’re perfectly safe in here. The prison guard got what she wanted.”

I cleared my throat and pulled my yellow blanket tighter around my shoulders, trying to gather my thoughts. “Ah? She— she did? Sorry? What?”

“We’re being good little girls now,” Raine said. “Tucked away in a room, right where we’re meant to be. Safe and sound. Contained. Orderly. You ever think about the etymology of that word — orderly? Why do they call non-medical hospital staff ‘orderlies’? Because—”

“Raine,” I said, gently but firmly. “I am deeply fascinated by and have great respect for your politics and philosophy. I have spent hours, sometimes entire evenings or whole nights, listening to you speak about this sort of thing. But right now, with her in the doorway?” I nodded sideways, towards Night Praem. “This is not the time. Please.”

Raine tilted her head and narrowed her grin with a curious look. “Whole nights, huh? We chew on each other, or just on ideology?”

I frowned at her. “Yes. You once … ‘edged’ me for three hours while basically delivering a verbal dissertation. This is just something you do. And I love you for it. But not right now!”

Raine dipped her head in obedience. “Sure thing, sweet thing.”

“Thank you. Thank you, um … good girl?” Raine smirked when I said that, which made me feel very funny indeed, so I cleared my throat and stared at Night Praem, still hovering in the doorway. “So … so what do we do now? We need to get out of here, but she’s right there.”

Raine stared at the ball of fluttering membranes, and said: “Prison guard here has no reason to cross the threshold. Maybe she can’t. Ontologically. I’ve never tested before. Wanna see what happens?”

“Um, I don’t think— wah!”

Raine stepped forward, closing the gap between us and Night Praem, dragging me alongside. She loosened her arm around my waist, giving me the implicit option of spooling myself out at the end of her grip, holding onto her hand, or of simply departing, staying behind, leaving her to face the danger alone.

Raine had trusted me completely, without proof, memory, or knowledge.

I chose to trust her in return. I stayed at her side, wriggled a hand downward, and pressed it over her own.

Raine walked right up to Night Praem, stopping her bare toes a mere inch from the cell’s threshold. She stared into the roiling shadows, tilting her head left and right, as if trying to catch a glimpse of a face. I peered past Raine’s shoulder and squinted into the fluttering gloom.

A dim and shrouded figure lurked in the core of cloudy murk — no more than a curve of hip, a swell of chest, and a hint of loose hair. ‘Praem’ had no face, no eyes, no identity.

“Praem,” Raine said. “That’s her name?”

“Y-yes!” I squeaked. “Praem. She’s Evee’s — Evelyn’s — daughter. Sort of. I mean, emotionally and socially, not biologically. She’s actually a demon, in the body of a big wooden doll, but … something is wrong, here. Normally she dresses as a maid all the time. It’s not a fetish thing, it’s just what she likes to do. We have this running joke about ‘Night Praem’, about how she makes sure nobody stays up too late, that sort of thing. This is … this is like a twisted version of that. Night Praem, but gone bad.”

“Daughter, then,” Raine said. “That’s all that matters. And Evee, what is she, to you and I?”

“Family,” I said instantly. “Your oldest and best friend. My best friend? We have a quasi-romantic … thing, all three of us. But Evee doesn’t do sex. Kind of. It’s complicated.”

“Family,” Raine echoed. “Which means prison guard here is family too. Huh.” Raine grinned at Night Praem. “Family doesn’t let family do shit like this.”

I cleared my throat. “Considering the various conditions in which I’ve found everybody else, I’m pretty certain this is some kind of reflection of what Praem specifically doesn’t want to be.”

“Mmmmmm,” Raine purred.

She stared into Night Praem’s roiling mass. Praem stared back — or at least appeared to, eyeless and blank.

Seconds ticked by.

Raine eventually said: “Heather?”

I jumped so hard I had to grab the back of Raine’s straitjacket with my free hand to stop from falling over. “Y-yes? W-what?”

“Talk to her,” Raine purred. “You’re the one with the unclouded mind and memories. Try to snap her out of this. See what happens.”

“O-oh. Right. Yes. Good point. S-sorry.”

I stepped out from behind Raine, cleared my throat, and tried to focus on roughly where Praem’s eyes should have been. Membranous clouds of ink and coal floated back and forth, churning like shadows in a lazy whirlpool.

“Praem?” I ventured. “It’s me, it’s Heather. You know me. You know Raine, too. Praem, none of this is real. We’re in a dream, or an illusion, or something like that. The Eye did this to us. We’ve all been pressed into roles we don’t want. This isn’t you, Praem, you were never a ‘prison guard’ or an instrument of control. You’re a maid! By choice! And Evelyn’s daughter. Evelyn Saye? You’re Praem Saye, technically. Praem?” A sudden horrified tremor rose up my throat. “What … what did you do with Lozzie, earlier? When you whisked her away, where did you take her? Praem? Praem, please say something! Anything! Praem? Praem? Do you … ” A brainwave struck. “Do you want a strawberry? I don’t have one yet, but I can—”

Night Praem reacted at last — by drifting away.

Like a knot of inky kelp dragged by the tide, she drifted sideways, leaving the doorway behind and wafting down the corridor. Shadowy membranes brushed against the concrete floor and filthy walls, unblemished and untouched by their passing.

“Praem!” I rushed forward. “You—”

“Hold,” Raine purred. She tightened her arm around my waist and pulled me back.

“But she reacted to that! She—”

“You step out into the corridor, she’ll be on you in an instant. Bad girls out of bed at night, all that. She’s happy as long as we’re in here. But only as long as we stay.”

“But she took Lozzie! I need to know if Lozzie is safe, I—”

“Would she hurt Lozzie, before this? Before Cygnet prison?”

“I … no, never.” I shook my head forcefully. “Never!”

Raine held my gaze with smouldering intensity, eyes framed by greasy hair and the leather band of her muzzle. “I fell in love with you after a few minutes conversation. If you trust Praem, trust her not to hurt one of her own, even like this.”

I bit my lip, fighting down my worries. “I’ll— we could still—”

“And I’m not in any shape for a real fight, not yet,” Raine said. She rolled her left shoulder and flexed her left arm — still confined inside the straitjacket — and shook her muzzle from side to side. “If we need to deal with Praem we can dance in the corridor and make some noise, she’ll come running. But right now you’ve gotta finish what you started, Heather. Free me first. Then we can stage a breakout, as loud and bloody as you like.”

“Of course, of course,” I said, catching myself. “You’re still trapped, of course. How do I get you out of that thing?”

Raine pushed the door halfway shut with one foot, closing us in together, then drew me deeper into the cell, toward the wooden slab-bed. I allowed her to steer me by the waist, submitting to her directions.

“Elbow grease,” she said. “Limber up.”

Liberating my Raine from the straitjacket was easier said than done; the process was less desperate and harried than cutting her collar, but also sweatier and more time-consuming. She sat down on the wooden slab and turned sideways, then had me grab either side of the ruptured collar and pull as hard as I could, straining in opposite directions. I pulled and pulled and pulled, yanking and tugging, jerking and wrenching, popping strands of cotton until my hands were red-raw sore, my arm muscles burned, and my lungs were heaving for breath. Raine added the strength of her own right hand, but she couldn’t put her back into the task — literally, she was confined at the wrong angle to exert her muscles. This was all up to me.

“I’m— sorry—” I panted. “I was— never— very strong. You were always— the strong— one.”

Raine chuckled, grinning through her muzzle. “You’re plenty strong, Heather. Here, let’s make this easier.” She tapped her left shoulder. “Put both hands here, on the back. That’s it. Don’t worry about choking me.” She took a firm grip on the front of her collar with her own right hand. “Brace a foot against my back.”

I gripped the rift in the fabric with both hands, then extracted one foot from inside my scratchy white institutional slippers and braced my sole against Raine’s upper back. Raine leaned forward to give me additional leverage and balance.

“No,” she growled. “Harder. Harder! Press! You’re not gonna hurt me.”

“Yes I am! Raine, if I pull like this, it’s gonna—”

“Then hurt me,” she purred. “Just don’t forget my reward.”

“Raine—”

“Do it.”

“This is gonna hurt you!”

“Then hurt me.”

“And I’ll go flying!”

“I’ll catch you. Promise.”

“I—”

“I promise,” she purred. “Now hurt me.”

“Mmmmmmm! Okay, here I go … ”

With all my meagre might and my featherweight mass, I pulled on the back of Raine’s straitjacket like a monkey tugging at a tiger’s coat, and then—

Riiiiip!

The heavy-woven shoulder of the straitjacket finally gave up, tearing wide open. I almost went flying, crashing into the wall or slamming onto my backside — but Raine shot to her feet and scooped me up with her right arm before I could so much as brush a single hair against the concrete.

She set me on my feet. I was still panting and heaving with effort, clinging to her with one hand.

“Oh, oh wow,” I said. “I can’t believe that worked. How did that work? I can’t— wow— okay! Okay then. Good. Good, um—”

“Let me slip into something more comfortable,” Raine purred.

She stepped back, pulled the ruined straitjacket away from her shoulders, and extracted her left arm from the sleeve. She took a moment to stretch the liberated limb, rolling the joints and flexing the muscles. Then she used both hands to push the entire straitjacket down her torso and over her hips. The hateful thing pooled at her feet in a jagged puddle of heavy cotton, punctuated by little padlocks.

Raine walked free. She stepped out of her one-woman prison, unfettered and unchained.

Beneath the straitjacket Raine was wearing a black tank-top, soaked in sweat and covered in stains, frayed at the stitching and several inches too short at the hem. The tank-top left little to the imagination — her arms were on display, toned and muscled; her collarbone glistened with a thin layer of sweat; her abdominal muscles rippled with motion as she stretched her back and filled her lungs. She wasn’t wearing a bra, either — which was something I’d seen thousands of times before. But in this horrible place of rot and ruin, trapped in a dream of confinement and control, that little detail made me flush from throat to hairline.

Ragged grey pajama bottoms encircled her hips and covered her legs; the waistband rode low, exposing her hipbones and her lack of underwear.

Raine caught me staring. Her eyes found mine and transfixed me like a snake spotting a mouse. She pulled a predatory grin and flexed her stomach muscles again, cocking one leg as if presenting her groin.

“Like what you see, sweet thing?” she said.

I rolled my eyes and huffed. “Of course I do. I fell in love with you, Raine. I told you, we have intimate relations almost every day.”

“Mmmhmmm,” she purred, as if slightly unimpressed. “Intimate relations. You always so clean and clinical?”

“No,” I said. “Raine, we’re in prison. In a dream. I adore your looks, your confidence, all of you, the complete package, yes. You are a walking nocturnal orgasm.” I blushed harder at my own words, then shook myself all over. “But we are trying to break out of a soul-prison right now. Please, can we focus?”

“Mm.” Raine grabbed the front of her muzzle with one hand, penetrating the metal gaps with her fingertips. She turned around to show me the leather straps across the back of her skull. “Get me out of this so we can talk properly.”

Removing Raine’s muzzle was easy, but my body knew what was coming. I reached up and undid the leather buckles with shaking hands. The tension in the mask went slack and the muzzle came loose in Raine’s grip. She pulled the cage off her face and dropped it on the floor with a clatter. Then she worked her jaw up and down and massaged her cheeks where the muzzle’s strap had left imprints in her skin. She sighed with release, running her hands through her greasy mass of chestnut hair.

“R-right,” I said. “Good. Good, that’s good, you’re free, good. I’ll just—”

“Time for my reward,” Raine purred.

Raine spun toward me, boxed me in with both arms, and slammed her hands into the wall either side of my body.

“Ah!” I squeaked.

Burning brown eyes bored into mine, pinning me from above with molten spear-tips. Thin lips parted in a snakelike grin, savouring my little flinches and shudders. Raine grabbed my hip with one hand, holding me in place, cutting off my escape. She towered over me, so much taller than I remembered, a wall of muscle which might crush me against the concrete. She smelled of old sweat and unwashed flesh, of hot arousal and the thick musk of too much sleep.

“Hey there, sweet little thing,” Raine purred. “I sure hope you’re fully cognizant of what you’ve done. There’s no turning back now.”

I whimpered, eyes wide, throat closing up. My backside was pressed against the wall, cushioned only by Sevens’ yellow blanket, framed on every side by the regular black lines of Raine’s ASCII art on the concrete. My guts were quivering. One of my legs was shaking uncontrollably.

Raine dipped her head lower, like a snake slithering closer for the killing bite. “You freed me. Ready to take responsi—”

I cut her off with a kiss.

Clumsy and desperate, needy and lustful, I jerked my face upward and mashed my mouth against Raine’s lips. She let out a grunt of surprise, then parted to let me inside. I stuck my tongue into her mouth, which drew another grunt from her throat. She returned the kiss, drinking me up, our lips sliding together in sudden synchronicity. She tasted like morning breath and blood and meat. She squeezed my hip harder and raked the fingers of her other hand through my hair. She worked a knee between my legs and propped my body weight on her thigh, grinding against my crotch.

I jerked back after a moment, pushing her chest with one hand to part our lips; Raine was panting, red in the face, eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure.

“Holy shit,” she purred. “You weren’t making up a single word of it, were you? You really are my lover girl. You’d let me eat you up, you—”

“Fuck me,” I whimpered.

Raine cocked an eyebrow. “Come again?”

“Fuck me!” I croaked. “Don’t make me repeat it, Raine, please! Right— right here, right up against this wall. Or on that wooden slab. Whatever! Just do it!”

I was panting hard and ragged, quivering from head to toe, flushed all over. Uncaging Raine had uncaged something within me as well, something the dream had kept wrapped up with fear and isolation.

Raine grinned. “Not that I’m complaining,” she said, “but don’t we have a breakout to mastermind? And friends to free? What about your—”

“This might free you!” I hissed in her face, then darted my lips upward and sucked on her mouth again, wrapping my arms around the back of her neck and raking my fingers through her hair. Our lips parted with a wet pop. “It just makes sense to me! I— I need this. Raine, please!”

Raine raised both eyebrows and held up a pair of fingers. “I’ve been locked in this cell a long time, sweet thing. It’s been months since these hands saw a sink, let alone a bath. I’d love to, but I ain’t hygienic right now.”

I growled — a noise I’d never expected to make with an unaltered throat. “This is a dream!” I said. “What happened to ‘I eat girls like you for breakfast’? What happened to poor-little-Heather should be afraid? What happened to chomp-chomp gonna bite me, huh? Eat me up, big bad wolf! Fuck me! Do it! Do it now! Do— yaahh!”

Raine did as she was told.

Good girl.

Twenty minutes later I was left clinging to her front, covered in a thick layer of my own warm sweat, wheezing for breath, mewling and shaking, with both my knees trying to give up. Raine extracted one hand from inside my pajama bottoms and sucked her fingers clean. I whined into her chest, unable to form words. She pressed her lips to my hair, drinking in my scent.

“You’re a real screamer, huh?” she purred. “Should have brought ear plugs.”

“Shut up,” I croaked. “Couldn’t help it. Good … good girl, Raine. Good girl. Good girl.”

“Ahhhhhhhhhh,” Raine sighed. “Yeah, that’s right. There you go. Say it again.”

“Good girl.”

“Mmmmmm,” Raine purred.

I said: “Any memories come back?”

“Hmmmmm,” Raine grunted. “As much as I hate to belittle the restorative powers of making a thing like you squeal and buck for me? Nah. No burst of memories. Which is a real shame. I bet you’ve made some fascinating noises in the past, pity I can’t remember them right now. Wanna try again?”

“Don’t think I— could—” I panted. “Raine, I must sit. Please.”

Raine helped me over to the wooden slab-bed and sat me down. I spent a minute doing nothing but taking deep breaths and fanning my face. She planted her feet before me and began stretching out each muscle one by one, waiting for me to recover. We stayed like that for several minutes, until the strength returned to my legs and my linguistic processing caught up with the rest of my brain.

“No memories,” I muttered, chewing on my own bottom lip. “No memories from that.”

Raine made one of her joints go pop. “You were seriously expecting that to work? You got a magic cunt?”

“Well,” I said, “not really. That was mostly just an excuse. But I hoped it might do something. Ah!” I lit up all of a sudden. “Raine, Raine, I have to draw on you, I need to draw on your skin.”

Raine tilted her head and raised a puzzled eyebrow. I dug around in my yellow blanket, pulled out the marker pen I’d lifted from the dayroom, and then rolled up my left sleeve to show her the Fractal.

“Nice tats,” she said. “What’s it do?”

“This is the first and greatest gift you ever gave me,” I said. “The first time we met, you drew it on my arm, to … to, well, to keep magical nightmares at bay. It’s hard to explain, but it’s a kind of ‘firewall’. That’s the word you use to describe it. I’m not sure, but it might be the reason I haven’t lost my memories like everyone else. I tried drawing it on Zheng — she’s kept her memories too — but it didn’t fix her physical problems. I’m not sure if it’ll work, but it might. But it also might not be having any metaphysical effect at all, it might just be ‘cosmetic’, in here. This is a dream, or an illusion, or reality re-arranged, or—”

“Sloooooow down, slow down.” Raine raised a hand. “You don’t need to explore every nook and cranny, Heather. I’ve already done that, with my fingers.”

I blushed and tutted. “Raine!”

Raine broke into a grin. “Damn, girl. When you react like that, I can see why I tease you. You’re too cute for this. Too much for my blackened heart.” I frowned at her. Raine grinned wider, raising both hands in surrender. “Seriously, you don’t need to explain every detail.”

“I don’t? You’re just taking this on trust?”

Raine shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if I believe you or not. I meant what I said earlier, sweet thing. I’m yours now. I’m your hunting hound.” She held out her own left arm, first clenched. “My skin is your canvas, my muscles your sword. Draw on me all you like. Go ahead. Just praise me when I do a good job, and keep me fed.”

I bit my lip and squirmed at those words — we really shouldn’t have sex a second time; Evelyn was waiting, trapped with her mother. One round of hanky-panky had not helped to restore Raine’s pre-Cygnet memories, and I doubted railing me up against the cell wall another two or three times would break the seal on her mind. So I took a deep breath and focused on my task.

Drawing the Fractal on Raine’s arm was a strange reversal of our usual roles. She had refreshed and redrawn the symbol upon my flesh over and over again, almost every single night for the entire previous year of my life, in an act of regular care and protection. Now I repeated the gesture, to free her from a prison she could not see. I copied the angles and lines of the Fractal onto the pale skin of her forearm, piece by piece, triple-checking my work as I went. Once I was finished I checked the whole structure once again, then twice, then sat back with a sigh.

“You done?” Raine purred.

“Mmhmm. That’s the whole thing. Do you feel any different?”

Raine’s lips curled into a dangerous grin. “I feel a lot of things about you right now, sweet thing.” She raised her left arm and examined the Fractal. “But I ain’t got any memories flooding back. No dice.”

I let out a huge sigh, then tutted, and re-capped the black marker pen. “Damn. Um, pardon my language.”

Raine ran her fingers across the lines of the Fractal. “I like it though. Skilled work. Well done. And hey, now we match.”

“I did learn from the best,” I said, nodding at the ASCII art all over the walls. “By which I mean you.”

Raine bobbed her head in gracious acknowledgement of the compliment, then thumbed at the artwork all over the walls of her cell. “Do I draw this kind of stuff in reality, or is this just a dream thing?”

I cast my eyes over her improvised art once again. “Oh, you draw plenty of this, but never that size. You send me a lot of it, in text messages and such. But … well, usually with less naked bosoms.”

Raine tutted. “Pity.”

I let out a big sigh and ran one hand over my face. “Dammit, I really did hope that would work. I don’t know how to snap you out of this dream.”

Raine walked over to the steel door of the cell. She scooted the unwrapped package of bacon out of the way with one foot — the food was no good anymore, after she’d rubbed the grease all over her hands to lubricate the knife for her little unlocking trick. Then Raine bent down to pick up the white plastic knife I’d stolen from the mess hall, the one she’d used to shimmy the lock open.

She straightened up and twirled the knife over her fingers. Then she tossed the blade in the air, caught it in a backhand grip, and mimed four quick stabs into the throat and chest of an imaginary foe. Her arm lashed out like a striking snake, the tip of her weapon a razor-sharp fang. She hopped backward on the balls of her feet, lowered the knife, and grinned.

“Still got it,” she purred. “You need me to butcher some nurses? Slay a monster? Fight a god? I’m good to go, memories or no.”

I half-covered an appreciative smile with my fingertips. “With a plastic knife?”

Raine glanced at her ‘blade’, then chuckled and shoved the greasy weapon into the waistband of her pajamas. “A new Excalibur, cast in polypropylene. Better than nothing. I’ve done more with less. But … yeah.” She smiled and clucked her tongue. “I’d prefer something in metal. Keep that in mind, if you get a chance to go all light fingers again.”

I nodded. “I will. Raine, listen, I’m not doubting your skills or your dedication, even bare handed. I’ve seen you do more. But the others aren’t physically confined. They’re locked away emotionally and psychologically. All except Zheng, and I have even less of a clue how to restore her strength. Unlike with you I can’t just break into a bunch of cells and gather our party. I need to find a way to free minds, not just bodies.”

Raine raised her chin and considered me with heavy-lidded eyes. “Mmmmmm. A metaphysical problem, rather than a practical one. Nasty.”

“Yes, exactly.” I sighed again. “You’re by far the most intact of everybody, both physically and emotionally. Except Zheng, I suppose, she’s all there in the head, but not in her body.”

Raine stopped grinning. “Why?”

“Ah?”

“Why me, Heather? Why am I special? Why am I the most intact? Why me?”

I chewed on my bottom lip and frowned hard. My mind finally started grinding into gear. “I’m not sure. I haven’t had a lot of time to consider the metaphysics of this place, not yet. I’ve been too wrapped up in practical actions, trying to find everyone, reach everyone, and then journeying to this cell. It’s been … terrifying, frankly. So, no, I don’t know why you’re the most intact. Maybe because you’re more determined? Because you draw so much of your purpose from other people — from me?” I shook my head. “You’re the only one who’s physically confined like this, except possibly Maisie, or my other six selves. Like the dream couldn’t do enough to your head to keep you contained, so it had to lock you up.”

Raine winked at me. “Can’t keep a bad dyke down.”

“Well, yes, that much is self-evident,” I said. “But I don’t have anything else to go on. I don’t know why you’re most intact. Anything I can say is pure conjecture. Maybe it’s because you were always the woman of my dreams in the first place.”

Raine broke into a grin. “Oh, little thing, you are just too cute for your own good.”

I swallowed and blushed like a tomato, clearing my throat in embarrassment at my own joke. “Dammit, why am I blushing?! You just … just ‘finger banged’ me against a prison wall! What have I got to blush about? Tch!”

Raine chuckled, running her tongue over her teeth.

“Look,” I said, trying to ground the conversation before we ended up having sex again. “I mean, listen. I mean— I don’t know what’s going on here, metaphysically, or spiritually. Not yet, anyway. Do you want me to explain what I think? Maybe we can compare theories.”

Raine shook her head. “Don’t need it.”

“ … ah? Sorry? Why not?”

Raine shrugged. “Either you’re right, and we’re gonna break out of a dream whipped up by an alien god, and then rescue your twin sister — damn, there are two of you, really? Lucky, lucky me, unnnh,” Raine grunted. She carried on before I could raise an objection. “Or you’re wrong, and we’re about to stage the greatest loony bin breakout in all history. Either way, I’m your hound. I’m your good girl. Right, Heather?”

A quiver rose from the base of my guts once again. Raine must have seen my arousal; she walked right up to me, went down on one knee, then raised my right hand to her lips and kissed the back of my palm.

“Raine,” I whispered a gentle warning.

“Say it. You gotta keep saying it, Heather. Gotta keep me sweet.”

“G-good girl,” I murmured. “Good girl. Good girl … ” I reached out with my free hand and stroked Raine’s greasy hair. She purred and rumbled and nuzzled my arm. I swallowed and found my voice again. “Okay, um, first, I need you to tell me what you know, whatever you remember. How long you’ve been here, what you’re here for, what’s outside this place. Anything at all. You might not want to theorise, but I do.”

Raine eased backward, assuming a more comfortable kneeling position. “Been here for years. Can’t remember how many years though, not really a fan of keeping track. I prefer using the walls for art.” She nodded sideways at the ASCII art on the walls again. “What am I in for? Everything. They threw the book at me. Danger to myself. Danger to others. Doesn’t play well with her peers. So on and so on. What’s outside this place? The world. What else?”

I nodded slowly, accepting that I still had nothing to go on. “And you’ve been locked up in this cell the entire time?” I glanced left and right, at the concrete walls and the cold floor, at the wooden slab built on which I was sitting, and at the disgusting toilet in one corner. I pulled a face at the state of that unfortunate commode.

Raine chuckled. “Yup. The whole time.” She nodded at the toilet as well. “That thing ain’t as bad as it looks.”

I raised my eyebrows at her. “Really?”

Raine just smirked.

“Raine,” I said softly. “Look at it. There’s not even any toilet paper. It has no flushing handle. It’s … it’s green and black! How can this be real?”

Raine slid her eyes over to the vile toilet in the corner. She stared for a long, long moment. She started to frown.

“Huh,” she said.

“Have you not been … you know … ” I cleared my throat. “Even prisoners need to use the facilities. Especially if you’ve been in here for months, or years.”

Raine just stared at that toilet. “Huh.”

“Is this … ” I measured my words. “Is this bringing you round? Sex didn’t bring anything back, but a filthy toilet is working?”

“Not quite,” Raine purred. “But that is an interesting thing you’ve pointed out.” Her eyes flicked back to me. “But you need to focus. Stop trying to convince me. You don’t need to do that. Understand?”

“I’m not trying to convince you,” I said. “I’m trying to figure out the metaphysics.”

“Leave that for the magician. Evee, right?”

“Yes,” I sighed. “Frankly, Raine, I’m barely holding myself together. This morning has been terrifying and I’m desperate to understand what is happening so I can break it open. Finding you, freeing you, this is the first relief I’ve gotten. My mind is working again. I need to think!”

“And I need to act,” Raine purred. “Use me, or I might start to bite.”

I sighed — but then nodded. Raine was right, biting or not. We had to act. We had to get Evee away from the nightmare memory of her mother, at the very least. I took a deep breath and told Raine everything I had learned so far.

I kept it short and simple, as straightforward as I could manage: Evelyn was locked behind a security door in the entrance hallway, alone with a nightmare of her mother, her disabilities uncared for, her body withered; Twil was out in the asylum grounds, accompanied by her odd ‘friends’, with no memory of her werewolf truth, meek and timid; Zheng was robbed of her size and strength, but her mind was clear; Lozzie was a cartoon psychopath, free but dangerous, lacking her kindness and empathy.

“The girl who followed you?” Raine interrupted gently. “That’s Lozzie?”

“Yes. And I’m so worried about where Night Praem took her. We need to help Evee first, yes, but I at least want to confirm that Lozzie is safe.”

“Mmmm,” Raine purred. “There might be a way to do that. Let me think on it. Go on, anybody else?”

I told Raine about the Caterpillars in their terrarium, shrunken and diminished; I told her about the Knights, re-cast as armed guards for a quasi-military wing of the hospital.

Raine raised her eyebrows at that. “Guns? They’ve got guns?”

“Mmhmm!” I nodded. “I don’t think they know how to use them, though. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. They’re so noble and chivalrous, I can’t believe they’d ever shoot any of us, even in a nightmare.”

“Getting hold of just one gun would change everything,” Raine said. “But if it’s like you say, and the wrong word could tip them over … hmm. Chivalry, I like that. Maybe we can work on them somehow. Hold that thought for now, hey?”

“Quite,” I agreed. I told Raine about Praem over again, in more detail — or rather, ‘Night Praem’ — and about Sevens, and Mister Squiddy, those who appeared to be absent. I told her about Maisie, too, and my theory that Maisie was locked away inside the military wing of the hospital, guarded by the unwitting violence of the re-purposed Knights. I told her that I should have six tentacles, each inhabited by a miniature copy of myself, and how I was currently very alone and very isolated inside my own body.

Raine listened to every word, eyes fixed on mine, storing away each detail for later use.

When I finished and fell silent, she just stared at me for several long moments, deep brown eyes burning quiet.

“Um,” I ventured. “Raine?”

“So,” she purred. “The nurses. The doctors. During daylight hours, they’re the primary obstacle. At night, currently unknown.”

“Yes, as far as I can tell.”

Raine nodded slowly. “Alright Heather, here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna confirm Lozzie’s safety. If I can win a very dangerous game, we might be able to get her on our side, but I need to meet her and sound her out first. If we can’t go all the way, we might be able to turn her loose on the nurses, make a good distraction. Then we’re gonna go for this Evelyn girl. She’s a magician, right? If you need to start breaking metaphysical bonds, there’s our starting point.”

I nodded along. “Okay! Okay, this sounds good.”

“Evee’s mother, what do I need to know about her?”

I blinked several times. “Um. Well. You killed her once already. In reality.”

Raine chuckled. “Really now?”

“It’s a very long story,” I said. “And I don’t personally have all the details, but yes. You and Evee killed her together, back when you were about fourteen years old, I think. To save Evee.”

Raine grinned. “Let’s make it stick this time then, hey? Now, Heather, we’re gonna need three things. One: I need a better weapon than this plastic knife.” She touched her waistband. “That’s non-essential though. I can bluff if I have to. Two: I need a disguise.”

“Oh?”

“I’m a high security inmate. Even if I can get us out of here, I can’t go walking around the regular hospital wings.” She tapped her sweat-stained tank top. “Gonna need new clothes.”

“What about this?” I said, and held out a corner of my yellow blanket.

Raine raised her eyebrows. “Maybe, if there’s no other options. You keep that for now. Maybe it’s from Sevens, right? If she’s protecting you, you need to hold onto that. I need something else, something less attention-grabbing. Just keep this need in mind, for when we get out of here.”

I nodded. “Okay. Okay, maybe we can steal a uniform or something.”

Raine cracked a grin. “You like a woman in uniform?”

“Well,” I tutted. “No, actually.”

Raine narrowed her eyes in shrewd approval. “Huh. Alright then. And finally, number three: we’re gonna have to deal with the guard, if we wanna get out of this prison.”

“Please don’t hurt Praem,” I said. “Please, Raine. She’s one of us. One of our family. She’s practically my daughter-in-law.”

Raine took a deep breath. “Alright then. I promise. I won’t have to hurt her, not if this works. But I do need you to trust me.”

Raine stood up, took a step back, and offered me a hand.

I reached out and took her palm with my fingers.

“I trust you with my—”

“Because I’m about to do some really crazy shit, sweet thing,” Raine said. She wasn’t smiling. “And I’m not bigging this up. I really mean that. You better be ready, and you better trust me. Because if you don’t, if you hesitate, then I can’t protect you.”

“ … what magnitude of ‘crazy shit’ are we talking about, Raine?”

Raine smirked. “How good are you at playing along with a ruse?”

I bit my bottom lip. “Not … not very. I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve.”

Raine chuckled, without much humour. “Then I shouldn’t tell you, or you might give the game away. Scream if you want. Cry and shout and wail. I won’t judge if you wet yourself. I won’t judge a single thing, as long as you trust me. Because then I can keep you safe.”

I took a slow, steadying breath. My heart was racing, because I knew Raine wasn’t exaggerating. Whatever she was about to do was going to place both of us right on the edge of madness.

“I’ve always trusted you, Raine,” I said. “And you’ve never let me down. Whatever you’re going to do, I’m with you. You’re a … a good girl. My good girl.”

“Mmmmmmm yes, you keep that up.” Raine squeezed my hand, tight and sweaty. “Do you need to take a rest, before we go?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m ready.”

“Got everything you need in that cloak?” she asked. My eyes flickered to the bacon from the packet of napkins — now very much transformed into unfortunate floor-bacon — and then to the heavy padlock I’d dropped, beyond the threshold of the cell, just visible through the crack between door and frame. “Mm-mm,” Raine grunted. “Don’t worry about the padlock, I’ll take care of that. Not my style, I prefer a blade, but it might come in handy. You got everything else you need?”

I nodded. “I’m good to go. Do it, please, before I lose my nerve.”

“Right now?” Raine purred. “You have to mean it, Heather. You say yes, and we’re off, we’re gone, no turning back.”

“Yes,” I said. “Let’s get out of—”

Raine yanked me to my feet and wrapped an arm around my waist. Before I could so much as squeak in surprise, she strode toward the cell door, pulling me along beside her. She kicked the door wide open and stepped out into the corridor, with me at her side.

Darkness yawned both ahead and behind. The ends of the corridor vanished into filthy shadows. Cell doors marched off into oblivion.

“Raine?” I hissed. My heart leapt into my throat. I twisted to check over our shoulders, but there was nothing approaching down the prison passageway. “Raine, what are we doing?! What—”

Raine scooped up the fallen padlock in her free hand and banged it against the nearest stretch of concrete wall.

Thoom—thoom—thoom!

Echoes rang out down the corridor, calling into the unquiet bowels of this carceral underworld.

“Heeeeeey!” Raine shouted. “Heeeeeey! Maid girl! Night Praem!”

“Oh!” I squeaked. “Raine, what—”

“Clean up on aisle fuck you!” Raine howled into the waiting darkness. She pounded on the wall with the padlock again. The concrete cracked under the weight of the cudgel. “Big mess here, with your name on iiiiiiiit!”

“Raine!”

Raine tightened her grip around my waist. She lowered her voice for me: “Told you to trust me, Heather. You trust me?”

“I-I do, of course I do, but—”

“This Praem, she’s one of us, right? Your daughter-in-law? Our maid-girl? Evelyn’s demon-in-a-doll?”

“Yes! But—”

“Then we gotta trust her too,” Raine purred. “We gotta trust that every one of us is still on board. Every one of us is still there, inside. Just like I am. You know why?”

“Wh—why?”

“Because I’m not special. I’m not unique. It’s all of us together, or none of us at all. That means her, too.” Raine dipped her head and caught my eyes. “You gotta trust me, Heather. You gotta trust all of us, or this doesn’t work. We’re gonna go find where she put your Lozzie. Solitary, maybe. Maybe something else. Wherever it is, we’re going there. Wherever she takes inmates, we’re about to find out.”

Raine raised the padlock again and slammed it against the concrete wall — thoom—thoom—thoom! She filled her lungs for another shout—

“Praaaaaaaem!” I yelled. “Praem! Praem, Evee needs you! Praem!”

Raine burst into a grin, showing all her teeth. “That’s my sweet little thing, that’s my Heather,” she purred for me, then raised her voice: “Maid girl, we got something for you! Come and get us!”

“Yeeeeeeeah!” I yelled.

“Come get some!”

“Praem! Praem, it’s me, it’s Heather!”

“Special mess on the floor of my cell! Grade-A girl-juice! Big ol’ puddle!”

“Raine?! Ye—yeah! That’s right! Sweat and j-juices and— Praem! Cleaning time! Praem!”

“Woooooo!”

“Yeah!”

“Praem!”

“Prison break underway!”

“Bad girls are up and out of bed and gonna fuck nasty all over your clean sheets—”

Shadows thickened at the end of the corridor, like an explosion of ink flooding a glass fish tank.

A voice rang out, like a bell wrapped in black velvet, sounding down the corridor, drowning out our improvised absurdities.

“Good girls should be in bed,” intoned Night Praem.

I flinched and faltered, my voice dying in my throat. My flushed and sweaty face went cold with fear. I hiccuped twice. Raine stopped shouting as well, lowered the padlock, and wrapped both arms around me, holding on tight.

Night Praem floated out of the darkness — a writhing mass of coal-black membranes and inky-dark frills.

“Heather,” Raine growled. “Arms around my waist, right now. Hold on tight. Do not let go. Hurt me if you have to. Harder. Harder! Grip me!”

“Y-yes, I— yes, okay! Okay! I am!”

Raine squeezed me so hard it hurt. I squeezed back, whining low in my throat.

Night Praem broke like a tidal wave, flowing forward in a sudden torrent of black. Dark waters filled the corridor from wall to wall and floor to ceiling, racing and rushing, slamming past steel doors, reaching for Raine and me with a million frilled feelers of raven embrace.

I swallowed a scream and hiccuped into Raine’s chest. Raine’s lips ripped wide open in a grin.

“Hold on tight, sweet thing!” she roared. “Let the maid do the work!”

“Good girls go to bed,” Night Praem intoned, inches from my ear.

The wave slammed into Raine and me — like a wall of lace and feathers, a tidal wave of tissue-paper and fluff and foam. Pressure swept me off my feet and down the corridor, pulling at my arms, trying to yank Raine and I apart. Raine squeezed and squeezed and squeezed, growling in my ear, digging her fingers into my back. Feral desperation claimed me; I bit her shoulder, hooked our legs together, and drooled onto her tank-top.

Night Praem carried us off, down into the lightless depths of the prison, down further than life had any right to go.

But she carried us together — Raine and I, inseparable once again.