I look to my left, expecting Julia, but quickly discover that the voice is coming from a large flat-screen on the wall beside the bed. It seems to be showing video of what happened in Circe's dungeon. It's at a point that I remember actually happening, but instead from the same third-person viewpoint I'd seen all those other...whatever, possibilities? Considering where my memories leave off, I'm pretty surprised to be alive, but Julia must have kept herself in check somehow, figured something out.
"Sort of," Julia says from behind me, prompting me to spin my head around to face her. She's in, or rather on a chair on the right side of the bed, sitting atop the back of the chair with her feet on the cushion. I note that she has feet, there's no sign of her half-transfiguration. For some reason, she's wearing a white catsuit that covers everything except her head and hands, and seems quite relaxed. There's another flat-screen on the wall behind her, currently off.
"Jeez, you scared me. Sort of what?"
"I sort of kept myself in check," she says. I feel like I should be worried that she answered my thoughts, but somehow I'm not. I pull myself up in the bed to sit up, back against the headboard, and kick the covers off, revealing blue pajamas. On the TV, Julia is asking me if I can hear her. I nod my head in that direction.
"How is the TV showing that?" Julia shakes her head.
"That's a complicated question. Also an unimportant one. Ask better questions." I frown.
"Okay...where are we?" The room has dark red walls, tan carpet, and is undecorated aside from the televisions, the bed, and the chair Julia was perched on. There aren't any apparent exits.
"Equally complicated, and equally unimportant." I give her a skeptical look. "We aren't actually here," she clarifies.
"What does that even mean? And how can it be unimportant?" Julia rolls her eyes.
"I'll give you a hint. What are you sitting on?"
"A bed," I answer, suspiciously.
"And what am I sitting on?"
"A baby elephant," I respond matter-of-factly. I'm not sure where she's going with this, but she doesn't say anything else, just sits there looking at me expectantly. The baby elephant twitches playfully at the bed skirt with its trunk.
Wait...uh...
"Um. Am I dreaming?" Julia grins.
"Ding ding ding! Goose wins a prize!" A plush goose that looks like a cheap carnival prize falls from nowhere into my lap. When I look back at Julia, the elephant has been replaced with a net hammock stretched between two miniature palm trees. She has one leg hooked over the side, kicking it idly to swing herself. On the TV, Julia is talking about incantations to open the door.
"Ah. Okay then." I relax a bit, then something occurs to me. "If this is a dream, why does it matter what questions I ask you?" Julia looks amused.
"That's a much better question. Because you're not talking to me, obviously, you're talking to yourself...but there are things you may not know that you know...you know?" She grins. I roll my eyes at her. She has a horrible sense of humor. Or I do. Whatever. I think for a moment.
"So. You...or the real Julia, I mean...is possessed? By an 'ancient entity' that has a serious hate-on for mystics?" She raises a finger warningly.
"So Circe claimed, and we know she wasn't lying...but that doesn't necessarily mean she's right, or telling the whole truth. It does seem to fit the situation, though."
"Assuming it's true, is there some way of...fixing you?" She shrugs.
"Depends on what you consider a fix." The TV behind her flares to life. On the screen, Julia is sitting in a thick wooden chair, manacled in place much as I had been in Circe's dungeon...her lower-half looks normal, and she's wearing a hospital gown. The manacles are inscribed with some sort of silver writing. Her mouth is covered with a heavy leather pad, buckled around her head. She turns her face from side to side occasionally, her eyes looking alternately angry or frightened.
"I call the question," says someone off-screen, "state your recommendations." "Bullet." "Pyre." "Geas." "Bullet." "Bullet." "Pyre." After the unseen speakers each respond, the original voice continues. "The plurality recommends death by bullet. Does anyone wish to exercise a veto?" There is silence for a moment. "Very well. Bailiff, carry out the sentence." On the screen, Julia begins to struggle fiercely, but after less than two seconds there are a pair of muffled cracks. Her head snaps back with a bullet wound in the forehead and a hole appears in the fabric above her heart, a blood stain slowly spreading. She goes limp, and the TV turns off.
"That's...not much of a fix," I say, rattled. Julia shrugs indifferently. The hammock is gone, she's back on the chair. Her white suit is punctured and stained with blood, but not like on the TV, instead in two larger holes over her abdomen.
"It is what it is. Or will be, I guess." I frown at her, glancing briefly at the TV.
"That was the future? But things were changing when I had those...visions, whatever...it was different every time. Can't I change it?" Another shrug.
"It was different because you were there. But...maybe? Doesn't necessarily mean you'd make it better. I don't think you're supposed to be able to do this." She nods at the other TV, where I am moaning in pain, my nose bleeding. "Vaguely prophetic dreams are one thing, but a nose bleed plus head trauma says to me brain hemorrhage. Even if you wake up from this, you might not be able to do it again. Or it might kill you to try."
"I have to do something. As much as I hate what you did to me, I don't want you to die...when I had to stab you, I knew it was a mistake as soon as I saw myself do it...even when later I saw you...uh...set us on fire? It wasn't you." Though even if I hadn't felt what happened, it still hadn't been any fun to watch. I feel a bit sick thinking about it and hug the plush goose. Julia climbs down from the chair and sits on the bed beside me, putting a hand on my shoulder.
"That's very...forgiving of you? But this...thing?...you have for me? Not healthy. Not even if the possession issue was off the table." She looks apologetic, and a little embarrassed.
"I know! But it's not...it's not just a side effect. I've been thinking back to when I first saw you, when we first met. I felt bad about hurting you. I was just jealous...of your looks, of your participation. When you showed up at my door, I felt...outclassed. And I was. But I think all of that stemmed from some part of me that was already attracted to you. The Binding, what you did...it just made me more willing to act on it, at least at the time?" I know this is a dream, she's not really here, but I still can't look at her when I say this. I turn to the TV to my left, instead, where the Julia there is threatening a terrified Circe.
"That's complicated too," Julia says quietly. "But maybe not unimportant." I glance at her as she idly pokes a finger into one of the holes in her suit, scratching the undamaged skin underneath, face tilted down and expression unreadable. "It seems like, based on things you've noticed, that I might have similar feelings. But even if I did, that's no guarantee of happiness. Lust, or even love, has been twisted into a whole lot of misery over the course of human history, and we're not exactly talking about starting off from an ideal base here, are we?"
"More joy than misery, though. There must be." She shrugs. I'm not sure I really believe it either. "I want there to be, anyway."
"I have other issues, you know. Serious ones." The TV to my left flickers like it's changing channels, and I see a red-haired girl of about thirteen in a pink cami and yellow pajama bottoms, hiding behind a bush beside a small house. She's staring in fear and horror at another house across the street, and has her hands over her ears. The house is covered in flames, and almost hidden by the roar of the fire, thin screams can be heard from the house. A fire engine eventually arrives, but by then the screams have already stopped, and bright flames lick out of every window. The firefighters put most of their effort into ensuring the blaze doesn't spread to the neighboring houses. The view pans to the girl's face, thick freckles mixed with acne, face red and blotchy, tear-soaked cheeks shimmering with reflected fire.
"Is...that you? How can I know this? I've never seen this before." Julia shrugs.
"How could you know what was going to happen, or what might happen...whatever? Is backward more inexplicable than forward?" I stare at the TV for a little while, watching young Julia wracked by misery. The front porch light of the house beside the bush comes on and a man steps outside, watching the activity across the street. The girl startles and runs, away from the fire and the porch light, climbing a fence when she has nowhere else to go.
"Was that your house?"
"Yes," she remarks, looking as if she's tightly controlling her expression. "Or Viola's, really."
"God," I breathe. "I'm sorry." She shrugs.
"Thanks, but I'm not actually dealing with it right now. Two separate kinds of repression plus possession on top makes for an awfully crowded headspace. Also, remember, it's not really me talking to you?"
"Oh." After a moment, I ask, "'Viola's'?" She nods.
"My real name, or it was at the time. Viola Juliet Bryce." She says it with an odd intensity, like she's making sure I'll remember it. I nod.
"Well, having a really bad childhood trauma...and I guess whatever came after...it might make things harder, but that just makes me want to help you more." She doesn't say anything for a while. The TV goes back to Julia threatening Circe in the dungeon.
"If you insist, I suppose you can try. It might be worth trying to get some good information that comes from somewhere other than the Council, which may have some blind spots, or Circe, who definitely seems bat-shit crazy?"
"But who? I don't really know anyone else, unless you count that guy I met in Japan for like two minutes?"
"Maybe my friend Jacques? You know he's familiar with incants, and you suspect he's at least a little shady, so maybe he has different sources than the Council?" On the TV to my left, Circe is desperately explaining to Julia how the door only opens by her un-coerced touch, but if a small inscription on each wall is carefully defaced, the blocks against magical and electronic transmissions would drop. The scene changes, however, and now is showing a montage of a man with an improbably pointy nose engaging in various transactions, including some in honest-to-God dark alleys. The TV to my right lights up and shows me, in casual clothes, talking to the same man. He looks concerned, but the sound is cutting in and out on both TV's and I can't make out the conversation.
"What's going on with the TV's? Why's there no sound now?"
"You're asking me? It's your dream... If I had to guess, I'd say either they're healing you and you're losing whatever brain-bending gave you access to these visions...or possibly you're dying. Either way, this dream is about to end, so I think I'm going to take this opportunity while I have it." Before I can respond, she's leaning forward and kissing me. I stiffen in surprise, but quickly melt under her lips. It's wrong and messed up and no less so for knowing this is all just my fantasy, but in this moment of utter confusion, fantasy works for me.
---
There's a man leaning over me, dark haired, wearing colorful robes. His dark brown eyes are staring straight into mine, so close our noses occasionally touch. I try to push him away but discover my arms and legs are strapped down to something. My hair feels slightly cool and wet where my bump should be, but it doesn't hurt at all. He leans back, pressing me down with a hand on my shoulder, and that feels wet too, because my shoulder is bare and his hand is red with blood. I suddenly realize fully that I'm not wearing a stitch of clothing, and my heart races as I imagine all the worst scenarios.
"Easy, moça. Jou must relax. Easy."
"What the Hell are you doing to me, who are you?" I look around wildly. The room I'm in is small, with a short ceiling. It's lit by a couple of LED lamps hung on opposite walls. The walls themselves are ripply, corrugated aluminum, maybe? There are no windows, but daylight spears in through small gaps in the walls here and there.
"Please juse care in jour language while in my establishment," he admonishes. "I am Elio, and I haf healed jour injuries, which would otherwise haf certainly killed jou. Since jou are speaking clearly, if incautiously, I belief I have performed extremely well."
"You're a...healer? Why am I naked and tied to a table?"
"Jou were restrained to prefent jou from disrupting my work. I removed jour...clothing only to ensure jou had no other injuries, though I must ask forgifness for the necessity to cut it from you...I could find no other way to remoof it? In any case, it fanished shortly after, along with jour eyeglasses and watch." He seems a bit curious about this, but doesn't elaborate. Nor do I explain, since I'm not sure why that happened either, and I don't want to admit ignorance of my own effects. "But jour Dona was quite insistent that jou be restored to perfect health, so close examination was important." As he speaks, he is undoing the buckles on the cuffs and straps holding me down. As soon as I have a hand free, I wave it over myself, producing glasses, a simple tee and jeans, and a raised eybrow from Elio. Once I can sit up and reach my feet, I add socks and sneakers. I tentatively touch the wetness in my hair and my hand comes away red, with small patches of something lighter, gelatinous. I feel nauseated.
"Oh my God, is this brain? What did you do?" The man has crossed to a small basin where he's washing a similar mess from his hands. He glances back at me, unconcerned.
"I haf healed jou, as I said. The damaged tissue has been remoofed and replaced with healthy."
"With your hands? Here?!" I'm a little hysterical. This place doesn't seem at all sanitary, he didn't even shave my head, not that I would've been thrilled with that...
"Jes. Also with magic," he adds, dryly. "I assure jou, I haf done this many times, no chance of infection." Still staring at my own hand, I shudder. I wave my hands over each other and they come away clean, then glide my palms above my scalp from hairline to neck. I pat my hair gingerly and find only a clean ponytail.
"Jou feel well, jes? No pain, no pressure in jour head?"
"Yes," I say, a little grudgingly. But I force myself to add, "Thank you." I'm tempted to ask him for more details on his 'healing', but given the surroundings and his accent, I'm guessing it involved 'psychic surgery' or something, and I decided I really don't want to hear about him pushing his fingers through my skull. "Where's...the person who brought me here?" I ask, instead.
"It was I who Manifested jou both, seeking custom for my services. Howefer, jour Dona left jou a note." He turns to a narrow shelf and withdraws a small sheet of yellow lined paper, wrinkled like it had been soaked through and dried before being used, and hands it to me.
[crossed-out scribbles],
I've heard of Elio, he's good (if messy) and I've already arranged for his payment. I'm sure he'll get you straightened out. He Conjured us here, so don't try to Vanish your way directly back home, you'll just end up in Circe's basement again. Instead, go in with Terms of 'no service, free access to Pittsburgh, forward payment $30 net 2 hours', and you should get a bite. Don't stiff them on the $30, get to your place and back within the 2 hours - if you break the Terms they can enforce penalties. Or if you like just go in in with 'no service, Pittsburgh Council Only', I guess they may be looking for you by now? Do not stay in for too long at a time, just try brief periods every couple hours or so. I'm sorry for leaving you alone, but I have to figure some things out and I don't think I should be around you while I do it.
Stay well,
Julia
P.S. You can tell the Council whatever you think you should, just don't lie. Don't worry about Circe, she's not an issue. Also, if you're not going to use the other one, you really need to get a new Cloak ID as soon as you can.
I frown as I read. Don't worry about Circe, she's not an issue. I wonder how much of my dream, if any, was actually true...thinking about how Julia had said she'd "sort of" kept herself in check. Also what might've happened if I'd just been honest with Circe. She was violent and unstable, but if she'd been heavily influenced by demons, how much was really her fault? For that matter, if I'd reacted differently to Julia in the hospital, if she hadn't spent so much time Elsewhere, heard the Whispers. Or if I hadn't taken her place in the club...
"Jou may of course rest here as long as jou need, but I would like to seek other custom today," Elio notes, interrupting my brooding, with a glance at the door. I'm not quite ready to decide what I want to do about Vanishing, so I hop down from the table.
"Sure, I'll get out of your way. Um, where are we?"
"Lisbon," he says with a smile. My brow furrows as I try to place the name, and he adds, "Portugal." I nod, and take a moment to come to grips with that. I've experienced some bizarre things since I learned about real magic, but somehow the idea that I've so trivially crossed an ocean has a visceral impact on me...in a way I was probably too distracted to appreciate during my very brief Conjured visit to Japan.
"Thanks again," I say. He nods at me, then I pull the door open and step out, one hand shading my eyes against the bright sun.