History of Fictitious: Volume Three

Chapter 3

I wake when I feel something pierce my fingers. My grogginess evaporates like water on a hot day when I see the disgusting rat. I shriek, jumping up and kicking it away. It scampers off and leaves through a small hole in the wall.

Breathing calmly to settle my heart rate, I assess my surroundings. I'm in some kind of tower, judging by how close the sky is to the small window in the room. The sky's brightness also tells me it's morning already, which means if I find a way out, the barrier will stop me from leaving. At this point, I don't question anything Sasha's brother has shared with me.

I walk over to the door, which has a barred window. I peek through, standing on my tip toes. There's a stairwell with sets of armor lined up along it. No human or ghostly presence seems close by, so I reach up to my hair and pull out a hairpin. My hair flops down, tickling my ears. Hopefully, my hand can reach through the bars to get the lock. I've never picked a lock before, so I'm doubtful it will even matter.

Unexpectedly, there is a shifting noise behind me. My instincts kick in as I spin around and slam my back against the door, thinking it's another rat. I'm surprised to see a cat, but not a real one. It is outlined in a glowing color like the red beast, except its color is a light purple. The cat looks at me with purple eyes as it lingers in the tower's shadows.

Then, it steps forward into the light and changes into the form of a tall, middle-aged woman with long, wavy hair. I can't tell much else because everything glows purple. I keep my back pressed against the door, afraid of what the woman will do. But then, she smiles.

"My, my, you sure are a handful, Missy. I told Master you weren't a thief, but how am I supposed to explain you picking a lock?" she says, gesturing towards the hairpin.

"How did you get in here?" I ask, "What are you?"

She chuckles sweetly, which gives me the sense that she is someone I can trust, at least a little. "I'm a spirit."

"A spirit? You mean like a ghost?" I say, coming closer to her. I reach my hand forward and try touching her shoulder. My hand swipes through it. "You're not kidding!"

"Indeed. I am not. I don't play games with people often, Missy. My name is Fern, and I work here in the castle. I used to be the nursemaid."

"Well, if you work here, can you tell me what's going on, who you work for, and what they want from me?" I say, going back to the door and sticking my left hand through the small window to try and find the lock.

"For starters, you are in an enchanted castle . . ."

"A haunted one," I correct her.

". . . with lots of spirits like myself floating about or inside things. And Master is the one you encountered the other night. He believes you need to be held responsible for breaking in and trying to steal. But I suspect he wants something else from you."

Realizing that reaching the lock will never happen, I pull my hand back into the room. "So you serve that thing, that beast or whatever it is? Why would anyone do that? Even if they are a spirit!"

"Many questions, that's good. Perhaps a thief is what we need," she says, mainly to herself, before clearing her throat. "And for your information, I can't exactly quit because I can't leave the grounds. Only Master can, and he isn't always a beast. For example, you saw me as a cat. It is just another form he takes in the darkness."

I shake my head. "Who cares if that isn't his actual form? He could have killed me if I had fallen out that opening!" Then, I realize the dots aren't entirely connected. "Wait a second, if he's a spirit, how did he push me?"

Fern looks to the ceiling and sighs, "He can interact with the living more than the rest of us. In a certain amount of light, he is human. Sometimes, he can touch humans, even at night, as a spirit without possessing anything. So yes, he is far more dangerous to you than I am."