Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“The actualization. I don’t know what happened to you, but I’ve been around the block, Little Baby. I can take a good guess. You were turned. You used to be a girl called Echo. She was Paul’s favorite, so she must’ve been hanging about when Josep went upstairs. You can tell me all about it later, but for now let’s get you out of that water.”
Then she offers me her hand.
I don’t take it. My mind is swirling with the words she just spoke. You used to be a girl called Echo. She’s right. I know she’s right. But I have no memory of that. Which bothers me. Greatly.
“Come now. Take my hand. I promise, you can get out of the water.”
“Why should I believe your promises?” I’m irritated so these words come out as a sneer. “You don’t have any legs either.”
The witch bursts out laughing. Then looks down at the mist surrounding her lower body. I look at it too, and as I watch the mist fades and her legs appear. Well, not legs, per se, because she’s in a long dress.
When I look back up at her, she’s smiling at me. “There. Legs. Satisfied now? You’re new, Little Baby. And while you do seem to have quite the command of the English language, the magic is something that must be learned. I can teach you.” She pauses here, letting those words hang in the air for a few moments before continuing. “Would you like me to teach you?”
And once again, she offers her hand.
I take it. Because I would like to get out of the pool. I really, really want legs. And the moment our hands touch, there they are. Smooth, and pale, and made of flesh.
The water changes color. The lavender glow subsides. But at the same time, I feel it. Not all around me this time, but inside me.
“That’s it,” the witch says. “You’ve got it now. Stand up. You can do it.”
“Stop talking to me like I’m a child.”
“Your name is Little Baby. Of course you’re a child.”
Reluctantly, I admit she’s right. I am a child. Not in body—I’m in my twenties, at least—but in spirit. So maybe she was onto something about that.
I hate being wrong. At least I think I do.
“Stand up. Baby steps for Little Baby.”
I sneer at her, but she just laughs. Which feels… disrespectful, since clearly—
“Clearly,” she says, cutting off my thoughts, “you are a powerful thing, Little Baby. But experience is everything, dear girl.”
“Hmm.” I stand up—my legs weak and wobbly, but very much there—and, with her help, step out of the pool. We face each other, nearly eye to eye, and I tip my chin up. “Youth,” I say. “Youth is everything.”
“Spoken like a true child.”
I yank my hand out of hers and walk across the smooth rock towards a floor-length mirror propped up against the side of the cave wall. “You should be nicer to me.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’m more powerful than you.”
“Power is only useful if one can wield it, dear girl.”
I don’t say anything back because I have reached the mirror and I’m looking at myself. There’s a hazy mist around my body now, just like it was around hers. Only mine is still two colors instead of one. Lavender and gold.
I’m pale, pale white, and my skin kind of glows, making me almost appear silver. I’m thin, but shapely. My hips are wide and my breasts large. My hair is long and silver. Or maybe lavender, I can’t really tell.
I’m…
“Gorgeous.” The witch is right behind me and she coos this word into my ear. It sends a chill down my spine and my skin prickles up in response. I stare at her in the mirror, our eyes locked on each other’s. Then she gently pulls a thick strand of wet hair off my shoulder and smooths it down my back.
Again, I get the chills.
She’s making me feel weird and I don’t like it, so I step away, out of her reach, and cross the room to put some distance between us. “Now what?” I ask.
Her eyebrows go up. “Now? Well, now, Little Baby, we make a plan.”
“What kind of plan?”
“What kind of plan would you like to make?”
“I don’t know,” I say truthfully. “I don’t really understand what’s happening.”
“You mean you don’t understand what happened. Past tense.”
I shrug up one shoulder. “Fine. I don’t understand what happened so I don’t know what to do next.”
“Well, you’re in luck. Because not only do I have a plan, but I know exactly what to do next.” She says all these words as she takes herself across the room to a couch. Then she sits down, pulling her legs up and tucking them underneath her, getting comfortable. She pats the cushion next to her. “Come. Sit. I’ve been dying to tell someone everything I know about mirrors. That someone”—she pauses to sigh—“is otherwise preoccupied. But you’ll do, Little Baby. You’ll do just fine.”