Spare Princess

Fairly Unlikable

Geneva

The shadow screams at me. Through the pain and dizziness, and the hurt inside, I can barely register that scream is one of rage. Not at me though. Electricity buzzes through it again and it’s Ian who’s casting a spell now. Not enough.

Grinding my teeth, I force all the strength that’s left in me and cast another lightning at it. It’s two against one now and the shadow has no choice. It screams again and then dissipates into thin air, leaving Ian’s house in shambles and me bleeding and terrified on the floor.Ian’s living room is in shambles. The shadow’s burned a hole through the wooden floor on its way back to hell. For a moment, dizzy and confused, all I can think of is that the house doesn’t look like a home anymore. A part of me is glad. Nothing good lasts for long when I am around anyway.

And then, as I just stand there in the middle of the mess, I remember that my supposed friend, my future brother in law might’ve gotten hurt. Because of me. Because that thing was after me and he got in the way. If he was someone else, he’d be dead right now.

Terrified, I rush towards him, my heart beating like crazy in my chest. I feel some residual pain in my left cheek and it’s like the entire left side of my body is completely numb, but that’s nothing. Nothing compared to the fear.

Ian makes a step away from me and his back hits the wall. For a moment I am not able to breathe. The weaker part of me starts falling immediately because he’s doing this, he’s doing what everybody else does when they realize I am indeed dangerous for all of them. He’s rejecting me.

But then he leans against that wall, his face pale and eyes bugging out with anger and horror and the gears inside of my head start moving again. Ian is hurt. God, Victor is going to lose his s*hit when he comes back.

“Geneva, what the f*uck was that thing?” Ian’s voice echoes in the silence that surrounds us and suddenly all I can think of is how f*ucking silent the house seems right now. Like all life has been sucked right out of it.

“I…” I mumble, unable to form coherent sentences. My eyes fill with tears for no good reason and I can't hide them fast enough.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Ian whispers and suddenly he’s too close to me, his long tatted arms wrapping around me.

I am too weak to push him off me. I don’t want him to see me like this, covered in dirt and blood, desperate and scared, but I can’t fight it. Because the moment I feel the warmth of his body engulfing me, I turn into a complete mess. I just lean into him, squeezing him back through the pain that’s gripping me and let myself pretend, at least for once in my life, believe the lie that there is someone who cares.

“It’s okay, Gen, it’s gone,” Ian’s hand caresses my hair, his voice soothingly warm. An illusion I want to lose myself in, so I hold onto him even tighter.

“I am sorry,” I manage to say. “I’m so sorry this thing got to you because of me…”

I can’t say more through the lump in my throat. All I can do is hold him, let him hold me and pretend. I don’t even know what I am pretending of anymore.

“I’m fine, it’s cool. But you are really hurt. You have to sit down, Gen, come on,” Ian’s soothing voice finally reaches to me and all I can do is nod and let him lead me to his couch which is currently covered in dust. “I’ll go get the emergency kit now. And when Victor arrives we’ll call his special security people to check on this whole thing, okay?”

I nod again and let him go do whatever he has to do. The entire time my eyes are focused on the damn hole in the floor. It’s large and dark and it looks like it wants to devour me. Deep down I know it’s just a hole that we created when we shot electric bolts at the damn shadow, it’s not an actual magical portal to hell. But that’s the thing - I am not very logical most of the time. I am made out of other people’s hatred and fear. This fear is gripping every fibre of my body right now. It slips to the farthest cracks of my mind and digs underneath all the nightmarish memories I have buried there.

And suddenly, I am back with those people again. The people who hurt me and used me to hurt the ones I loved. The people who broke me and remade me into whatever they wanted me to be - a weapon, a tool, a traitor. I am back to shrieking and trying to make myself smaller in the impossible hope that Bart Birnam and Elinor St. Claire won’t see me this way, so the pain can finally stop. It’s dark again, and darkness is all I can see.

“…no, I don’t know who the f*uck sent it,” I can barely hear Ian’s hushed words from the other room and they come distant and confusing at first. I don’t want to listen but I force myself to do so, everything to put the memories away. “All I know is it was a damn shadow. Someone wants her gone and they are nasty about it… yeah, I am okay. It was after her, not me. It beat her up pretty badly before we managed to send it back… I am always safe, babe. But I think someone’s put a curse on Geneva. Okay, do whatever you have to do. Love you…”

Another sting in my heart. The meaning of Ian’s words barely manages to reach me through the curtain of confusion.

“Victor will be here any minute now,” he informs me the moment he’s back in the living room, a large metal box with him. “And you get to experience my personal homemade potions and balms.”

“Gross,” I mumble, but let him clean the cut on my face and my hand and then apply the needed ointments. He works with precision, in silence, and I am thankful for that. Until he starts asking questions to which I don't have an answer.

“Care to tell me what's going on?”

“I don’t know,” I shrug, feeling numb again.

When Ian gives me a the side eye, I can only shrug again. “Honestly. I have no idea. I’ve been lying low for the past year. I don’t practise magic. I don’t play with the bad guys. I go to work, then I go home. Again and again every day.”

“Nobody puts curses like this on innocent waitresses.” Ian replies, carefully putting the little jars back into the box and I pretend his words didn’t hit me too hard. “I mean… the power and dedication to summon something like this, it’s enormous, not to mention it’s really bad, black stuff.”

“Thanks, I don’t think I need magic one on one from you right now,” I sniff and then I wincе because even the tiniest movement brings explosions of pain to my left side.

Ian looks at me with a raised brow, his features scrunched in disapproval, but doesn’t comment anything as we both hear Victor’s car outside. Rushed steps up the stairs and then my brother is in the living room with us, pulling his fiancé in his arms and kissing the s*hit out of him right then and there.

“Jeez, get a room you too,” I mumble from my seat on the couch, my sour mood starting to show. God, I just want to go home and snuggle with Ruffles, and sleep until I forget my own name.

Victor finally remembers I am there in the room with them and walks towards me, dragging Ian with him.

“Goddess, Geneva…” he mumbles as he crouches in front of me, finally letting go of his fiancé’e hand to take mine instead. “Are you sure you are okay?”

“I am always okay.” And it’s not even a lie. Even patched up, bruised all over, scared shitless and covered in drying blood, I am okay. I have to be. For myself. Because there is no-one else who’s got my back, truly got my back but me. “And, no, I don’t know who sent it. I really don’t.”

Another not lie. I mean, there is a whole town full of people who wouldn’t care if I was dead or alive, probably prefer the latter but neither is evil enough to resort to dark magic to achieve it. The only person I can think of is rotting in a prison of her own doing and there’s no way she’s out of there. So, I am just as puzzled as everybody else.

Victor gives me a doubtful look, but has no chance to say a word as the bell rings and Ian goes to open the door.

“I asked one of my special agents come take a look,” my brother explains. “He’s one of the best in these kinds of things.”

“A special agent?” I laugh it off. “Oh, no-brother, I am flattered, but I don’t think it’s that deep.”

“Geneva,” Victor squeezes my hands harder, his big blue eyes holding my gaze so intently, I am unable to look away. “This is serious and I won’t be taking any chances again.” He takes a deep inhale before continuing. “I lost you once already…I won’t let anyone hurt you again when I have the power to stop it.”

I can’t breathe. For a moment I just sit there and stare back, the lump in my throat so damn big it’s burning me. Those words. Those two sentences define my entire existence. I can’t let myself believe that he actually cares, that anyone cares about me, truly, but god, how I want to. And maybe I should. Maybe not all the bridges are burnt. Maybe…

Coldness like I’ve never felt before grips me at this moment and my gaze immediately moves to the source of it as if by instinct. And then I am frozen too because there, in the doorframe, is that man from earlier. The one with the cigarette. The one who looked just as lost and alone as I felt before he pushed me on the ground and spit on me like I am the scum that doesn’t even deserve to stain his shoes.

He stands tall and proud, his dark eyes burning with hate as they bore into me and it’s like he’s sucked all the air out of the room and I feel small again. The little bubble of hope that Victor’s words created just seconds ago bursts and I am falling all over again. I’ve been falling for so long, desperate to reach a ground that never comes. Tonight, it’s this stranger’s hatred that pushed me over.