Unfamiliar Territory

“Much has happened since you joined my club,” Mr. Mallard began, regarding me with his large eyes. “And I know most of it you do not yet fully understand. Let me first begin by offering up my sincerest apologies for putting you through those past tortures. I did not enjoy doing it, but you must know that it is what I had to do.”

“Stallion kind of gave me a sense you’d say something like that,” I said.

I clenched my jaw. It was so hard not to get up from the chair and do what I had been waiting to do for so long. I might have done so if it wasn’t for the overwhelming weakness still plaguing my body. “So, let me first say that I don’t forgive you. I will never forgive you. You are a monster and I will hate you until the day you kill me.”

“I assure you, I never had any intentions to kill you,” Mr. Mallard said, his voice still weak, as he straightened up. “Nor do I now.”

“Well, I’m in no shape to be anyone’s slave, if that’s your intention.” I wanted to shout it, but I was too weak. My words came out in strangled gasps. “If you aren’t trying to kill me you’re doing a piss poor job at preventing it.”

“You are in your current state because you refused to take orders. You have only yourself to blame for that. I have apologized for what I did, but I do not regret doing it. I would do it again, if I had to.”

“Like hell I would let you!” I tried to reach out for him then, but my body resisted and something burned so painfully on my back that I almost passed out.

“I have said what I wanted to say on this subject,” Mr. Mallard said, looking at me with no reaction to my suffering. “You see, just as well as I, that there are more pressing matters to be concerned with now.”

“I don’t care about any of this,” I insisted through gritted teeth. “I’m done with you guys. You can torture me, threaten me, refuse to feed me, whatever. I’m done with all of this. You can’t make me do anything for you anymore.”

“You have already done more than enough for me, for the time being. That is not the issue. Let me rephrase what I had said; the matter of your obedience is not what you should be most concerned with, at present.”

I only glared at him. He looked back at me, calm and unconcerned. Did he really think I was going to work with him still? Bastard.

“I know—”

“No, Foxy you do not know,” Mr. Mallard interrupted, a flash of something coming across his big blue eyes. “You are a target now, just like the rest of us—perhaps even more so. Mutt told us all of the encounter you had with Fawn. She knows you are one of us, whether you believe it yourself or not, and she will hunt you down until you are no more—or perhaps worse.”

I heard the sincerity in his words with a chill down my burning back. Fawn was just like those lost students, but worse, in a way. Like if a rabid wolf could talk. And the things she did with that stick...

“What the hell is she?” I asked—pressed. I had to separate the truth and the mystery. Now that it was back, the uncertainty was tearing apart my sanity. “The students who go lost...does she...”

“Make them lost?” he finished. I nodded, another chill racing through my body. “Yes, Foxy. Fawn is in the possession of an item, a staff with Knowledge. Knowledge enough to control the dark and twisted forces of nature.”

“What are you...Are you saying she uses...” I struggled to find the right word. When I found it, I struggled to even say it. “Magic?”

“Magic?” Mr. Mallard asked back, a surprised look and then a smile. “Well, yes, dear child, I suppose it could be called as such, at least by those who do not fully understand it. Those who do understand it, well, we are aware there is no real word, or definition, that can truly capture all the things that those few with the Knowledge can create. It is as unique and varied as the ones who wield it. And with no origin, no true source, we have long given up trying to understand where it all comes from. We accept that it just is.” Mr. Mallard took a breath and sat back in his chair.

Did I believe him? He didn’t even really make sense. But, then again, neither did Fawn’s ability to grow enormous flowers and call on the trees to do her bidding. And that wasn’t a dream—all evidence points towards it being one, but I knew deep down that it wasn’t.

“The term ‘Witch’ is not even a truly accurate description for them,” Mr. Mallard continued. “Certainly, it was used more as a curse—a life sentence, even, for those so unfortunate to be deemed as such. But, as these things often do, the name stuck. And while it fits those such as Fawn, who use their Knowledge for self gain and with little regard for discretion, there are those who actively use their power to better us all. Most in this category prefer to be called Knowers.”

Mr. Mallard seemed to be going on a tangent; he wasn’t even really talking to me at that point. Sure enough, when I cleared my throat, he almost looked surprised that I was still there. “Oh, yes, Foxy? Is there something you would like to say?”

“Well, what exactly was Fawn...doing to them?”

Mr. Mallard did not say anything for a moment. I thought he might have still been lost in his own thoughts, and I was prepared to ask again, when he turned his head towards the still roaring fire. “She is trying to be like me,” he said, softly. I almost didn’t hear him.

“That makes sense,” I said, glaring at him. “Stealing children, probably torturing them, turning them into monsters. I’d say she’s more than just trying, Mr. Mallard.”

“She has done much worse to those children then I would ever think of doing to mine—to you,” Mr. Mallard said, staring back at me. It was hard to hold his gaze. “There are things that those with Knowledge can do, and things that they should never do. There are things that do more than just break the laws of nature: they break morality. And the more you do—the more you destroy morality, the more you destroy yourself. You gain power, yes, but you lose something much more valuable. You lose who you are.”

“What are you even saying?” I asked. I didn’t understand it, the way he looked at me as he spoke. The way he spoke. It all seemed like he was pleading with me.

“You are going to encounter people with Knowledge, Foxy. You are going to see the use of that Knowledge and I want you to know that there is a right way and a wrong way to use it,” Mr. Mallard said, leaning forward. The glow from the fire basked most of his face in darkness. “As a familiar, it will be your job to determine right from wrong, to protect your witch from those that do her harm, but to also protect her from herself.”

There was that word again. Familiar. Only it wasn’t a severely injured Mutt that was saying it. It was Mr. Mallard. Looking so pleading, so sincere.

“I already told you I’m not doing anything for you,” I hissed, trying to rise from my seat. “I’m tired of hearing all this crazy talk. Whatever a familiar is, magic, witches, Knowers, whatever you call it, I want no part of it.”

“It’s already a part of you, child,” Mr. Mallard said as I stood on shaky legs. He then reached to a small table that was beside him. A table that had that fiery tea set laid out across it. How did I manage to miss it yet again?

“Here.” He grabbed a cup, already filled with a steaming dark liquid, and held it out to me. “Drink.”

“No.” I reached out a hand towards the cup. “I don’t want to drink that stuff anymore.”

“And yet you are taking it from my hand,” Mr. Mallard observed as I took the cup from him.

“Why?” I demanded, my voice catching in my throat as I brought the cup to my lips.

“Because you are a part of this,” Mr. Mallard repeated. “Your body knows this—your mind has just yet to accept it. Though it will, in time.”

The cup was on my lips, I could feel the hot liquid in my mouth.

And then I had to throw up. It was so sudden, I could not hold it in or do anything else at all.

I threw up on the floor. I heard the cup shatter on the ground. It didn’t feel like that much came out, but it did have a strange metallic after taste.

Mr. Mallard gasped and I opened my eyes and saw a pool of blood on the floor, mixed in with the spilt tea.

“Did one of them bite you?” Mr. Mallard asked me, he had his hands on my shoulders. I looked up into his eyes and saw fear—bare and naked for the first time. “Answer me!”

It was in that commanding voice. I felt compelled to answer him, but before I could I vomited again. I watched this time as more blood fell into the pool already spreading across the floor. I felt dizzy. My back continued to burn.

“Hold on, Foxy, just hold on,” Mr. Mallard said, pulling me up from the chair. He began to half drag, half carry me to the door.

I threw up more blood along the way. My eyes were open, but I could no longer see. I heard the door open as Mr. Mallard shouted Mr. Copper’s first name. I think it was Giles. I probably would have laughed if I wasn’t chocking up more and more blood.

I heard voices, but it was like someone talking underwater. The ground below my feet left me as I was picked up. The rush of wind chilled my burning face as someone ran down the hall. More voices, muffled and unintelligible, kept calling out from the darkness.

I couldn’t breathe. That awful, metallic taste was stuck in my throat, filling my mouth. I choked, but it would not leave. The voices were fading away as I sunk deeper into blackness.

And this time, I wasn’t sure if I would wake up.