Illusory

"Rotundtur Flamma!" I cried, and a blazing ball of fire burst to life in the air before my outstretched hands, flying away from me with a whoosh of hot air. It mowed down a row of thick bamboo plants, sending broken, flaming stalks flying every which way, before extinguishing at my command near the tall wooden privacy fence at the other end of the yard.

"Perfect!" Van said with a round of applause. "I've never seen a better one cast in my life!"

I was surprised that the man could remain so jovial with his yard looking like it had just been bombed. Not only had I killed his precious bamboo plants, but I'd also broken a very nice picnic table into pieces on the stone patio, ripped up the vibrantly green, perfectly manicured grass that he paid a landscaping service handsomely to take care of, torn through several plastic lawn chairs which now lay about in melted shards, and completely annihilated a very large, very colorful flowerbed that he'd planted and bewitched himself to remain so lovely throughout the winter. If this had been my yard, I would have been pissed. But no, not Van. He just clapped away, spouting so many different praises that I just had to smile in spite of all of the destruction.

"Thank you," I said with a broad grin, "but I'm sure you could do much better."

"Nah," he said, a dismissive wave of his hand nearly smacking me in the face as he surveyed his destroyed property. "I've never been very good with the creation and use of fire. My talents lie in the defensive and the life-giving." To illustrate his point, he whispered, "Reviresco." The bamboo plants, the tattered grass, the giant flowerbed — all of it sprang to life and mended itself, wriggling back as a dancing mass into their designated places. It looked like I'd never been here, throwing about fireballs and levitating lawn chairs as if they were weapons. "Resarcio," he murmured once the plants had been repaired, and the chairs and table did a similar dance and pieced themselves together before sliding noisily back to their places. Now, the entire yard looked good as new, and I grinned at Van's serenely smiling face.

"I wish I was as powerful as you," I said softly. "I could do so much to help people, to help you."

"You can already help people," he countered, turning his gentle smile to me. "You have the power. You just need to learn the spells." His smile fell, becoming something that was almost a frown but not quite, and his dark eyes slid over the repaired scene. "But I don't know if you could help in the way that I do," he murmured thoughtfully. "I don't know if you're meant to heal and repair." I frowned. He wouldn't say it outright, but I knew what he meant: I was meant to destroy things, not to mend them.

"Well, that's okay," I said after a moment, forcing a cheerful smile to match my feigned cheery tone. "That just makes us a better pair in battle, doesn't it? I'll do all the heavy-hitting, and you can heal me when I do something stupid and nearly die."

The ghost of a smile played across his lips, though his eyes remained on his vibrantly colored flowerbed. "I suppose you're right. One of us has to do some damage, and who better than the one with the anger problem?" His eyes slid to me now, glinting slyly in the grayish afternoon light.

"I do not have an anger problem!" I yelled, glaring up at him, though I couldn't stop a smile from ruining my pretend anger.

"Right, right," he said, his smile growing to its fully asymmetrical extent, and he started for the sliding glass doors that led to the storage room beside the stairs.

"Where are you going?" I asked as I followed, sneakers clacking loudly on the stone patio. "Don't we have more training to do?"

He shook his head, stepping into the over-stuffed storage area. Old furniture, unused holiday decorations, mislabeled boxes, all of the crap that people usually kept in their attics or basements cramped the place. Walking through it was like walking through a maze, but not just any maze, of course! This was the maze from Hell. "No," he said, his head still moving from side to side as he picked his way through the room. "I think I've taught you everything you need to know."

"But all I know how to do is create a shield, repel flying objects, create a fireball, and levitate things," I said, dismay deepening my frown. "I can't help you fight those magicians if that's all I know!"

We reached the door, and he stopped just short of opening it, turning to face me with a solemn frown of his own. "To be completely honest, Ember, I don't think I can trust you with much more than that."

My mouth fell open, his words like a blow to the gut from a prize fucking fighter. "W-what?"

"Ember," he said softly, placing a warm hand gently upon my cheek, "you're not a magician. You're not meant to wield so much power. Even what I've taught you so far may be too much."

My eyes flicked to the bruise on his cheek, and I wanted to punch him in the other one to even it out. "I thought I'd proven to you that I can handle this, Van," I whispered, my tone a mixture of hurt and an unquenchable rage. "You told me that I've been doing well so far. You keep praising me and telling me..." I trailed off, tears welling in my eyes as my sorrow and anger warred with each other. Weakly, I smacked his hand from my cheek. It fell to his side, limp and useless, and I watched it dangle. It was so much kinder than his eyes.

"You have been doing well," he told me, his soft voice filled with a pity that made me want to hit him even more. "That's the problem. You're picking it up too quickly, and you have so little control over the strength of the spells that you use."

"So teach me how to control it," I said in a choked, raspy voice, raising my eyes defiantly to his. "I can do it if you show me how."

But he shook his head, and my eyes dropped to his lifeless hand once again. "It's not something that can really be taught. It would take you years to learn to control it even if I did try to help you, and we don't have years, Ember." His hand returned to my cheek, his touch gentle and loving, and I stared past his hip to a box labeled 'Christmas ornaments.' The words blurred as my tears finally welled over. "What you know now is enough. It should get us through this next fight. But after this, I don't think you should practice magic anymore."

"You're such an ass!" I cried, finally letting my anger get the better of me. I swung with my left instead of my right, and Van fell on top of the box of Christmas ornaments beside the door. It collapsed, and the sound of shattering ceramic and glass followed me out the door and down the hall.

I locked myself in the parlor, the sound bringing the Hellcat's head up and around. She yawned, showing off rows of long, sharp teeth, and blinked groggily up at me. "What's the matter, tiny human?" she asked in a murmur that held no real concern.

Trembling, shoulders jerking in uncontrollable sobs, I slid helplessly down the door until I sat on the floor, legs sprawled out before me. "Do you know some type of sound barrier spell or something?" I asked between sobs. "Something that can stop the sounds from getting out of this room?"

Her head rose and fell in a single nod, and she murmured, "Clangort Reprimo." A shimmering red energy spread across the floor around the creature and slithered up the walls, vanishing only when the sides closed in on one another in the center of the ceiling.

"Van says that red auras only belong to people with great power," I sniffled, forcing my sobs to subside so that I could speak.

"Then I'm surprised you don't have one," the Hellcat said in her murmuring way, rising to her feet with a stretch. She turned to me, having to maneuver slowly and carefully in the small space, and sat back on her hind legs, her body stretching high above me. Her red eyes were calm as she gazed down at me. "I heard the two of you talking. You must be very powerful if someone as experienced in the ways of magic as he seems to be believes that you're too strong to be taught."

"But I'm not that strong," I argued with another pathetic sniffle. "I can't be. I wasn't born to a family of magicians. I've never been trained before. It's just...It's just not possible. It's not me."

"Give me a taste of your blood. Just one drop will do," she said softly, and at my horrified look, she chuckled lightly. Something like a purr rumbled through her chest to accompany the sound. "Relax, tiny human. I'm not preparing to eat you, as you might think. It's a commonly known fact that Hellcats, Hellhounds, and other such creatures are capable of tasting one's strength through their blood, both physical, mental, and magical."

"I didn't know that," I mumbled as I pushed myself to my feet, and another chuckle-purr thundered through the cat.

"I suppose I should've said that it's a commonly known fact among magicians, then," she said laughingly. I took a step toward her, and she dove down to nip my wrist before I could falter. I winced, blurting a loud "Ow!", but she lapped away the small stream of blood that poured from the tiny wound and leaned back, head tilting to one side as she thought deeply. "Mm," she murmured, brow furrowing. "Physically, you're about as weak as they come, but what more could one expect from such a brittle-looking human? Mentally, you're average, though you appear to have a very strong psyche. Magically..." She paused, and a light "Oh" of pleasure slipped out. "Magically, you're most definitely one of the more powerful humans I've ever had the pleasure of tasting. It explains why you managed to summon me instead of some lowly underling of a cat."

My eyes widened. "Are you...Are you some sort of...of cat royalty or something?" I stammered, a hand clamped around my slowly bleeding wrist.

She chuckled once more, leaning down slightly to stand at eye level with me. "My name is Krekkel," it purred, "and I am left-hand Hellcat of Satan. You could summon only one cat more powerful than I in the demonic hierarchy."

It felt like my eyes were going to pop out of my skull. "W-what?"

"I've only been summoned once before," she continued, as if I hadn't spoken, "and it was by a man much older than you with much, much darker purposes." She turned her eyes to the fireplace, and they almost looked wistful. "Ah, such fun times, those. When a man could get away with the slaughter of an entire village..." She trailed off with a soft sigh, mourning those lost days, it seemed.

"B-but," I stammered, and I already knew that this probably wasn't the best thing to say, "if you're so strong, shouldn't you be able to get yourself back to...to Hell or know someone who can or...or something?" I shrank back against the door with my eyes squeezed shut, expecting to face the wrath of a short temper, but nothing came. I opened my eyes to find her right where she'd been when I'd closed them, staring into the fireplace with a ponderous look to her red eyes.

"You would think so, wouldn't you?" she said, her eyes drifting back to my face. "But alas, I possess no such power and know no such person in this realm. Until Satan desires my services and summons me Himself, I shall be stuck in this terribly smelly place with you." Her eyes scanned the room, sliding from one end to the other disdainfully. She seemed to be searching for something. "Is there any food here?" she asked, her eyes landing on my frightened face once more. "I'm beginning to get hungry."

"Well, what do Hellcats usually eat?" I asked, head tilted to one side as I imagined the answer. Whole cows, perhaps? Humans?

"Usually, we prey upon the lost souls of hell, tearing them limb from limb slowly as a form of torture, but I'm sure you have none of those here." Again, that look of disdain, a glance around the room. "A dead human will do, if that's all you have."

"I...er...I don't think we have any of those, either," I said with a grimace.

She looked at me as though I were stupid. "So go kill one and bring it back here."

"I...I don't think I can do that," I stuttered, pressing my back against the door, once again fearing her wrath.

"Can I go fetch one for myself?" she asked, cocking her head.

"Um, no. We can't really kill things freely around here, unlike that lovely man who had you slaughter a village for him," I pointed out. "But I think we might have some steak in the refrigerator. Would you like some of that instead?"

"Steak?" she asked, and the word sounded odd coming from her. "What is steak?"

"It's part of a dead cow," I explained, grinning when her eyes lit up.

She leaped into the air with joy, much like a horse rearing back onto its hind legs, and landed with a thud that shook the room. "Oh, a cow! How I love the taste of cow! We have no such thing in Hell, nothing near as delightfully flavored as a cow!"

I laughed lightly. "I'll go get you the steak, then. Just wait quietly for a second, okay?"

"Yes, tiny human!" she cried joyously. "Go fetch me my steak!"

With another soft laugh, I unlocked the door and slipped out into the hall. I shut the door quietly, but remained where I was, pressed against it, until I heard movement upstairs. I took that as a sign that Van wasn't around to see me, so I took off down the hallway at a brisk walk, glancing up the stairs as I passed. I heard more movement on the second floor, but it didn't sound like he was coming my way. I threw the refrigerator door open, pulled out six thick steaks on their blood-covered, white Styrofoam tray, and started quickly back toward the parlor. I heard the sound of a door opening and closing upstairs, then footsteps in the hall. Panicked, I broke into a full-on sprint as I passed the stairway, bursting into the room and slamming the door shut as if someone with a knife had been chasing me. I locked the door, and the cat once again leaned back on two legs.

"Steak!" she cried, tearing the plastic-wrapped package from my hands with her front paws. It fell to the floor, the plastic tearing as it caught on one of her claws on the way down. The steaks flopped out, making a bloody mess all over the beautiful hardwood of the floor, but she didn't seem to care. She scooped the steaks into her massive mouth, and in two quick swallows, all six of them were gone. I wasn't even sure if she'd chewed or not. "Ah, steak!" she roared, throwing her head back with a delighted shake. "How delicious those cows turned out to be!" She dropped her head and looked down at me, hope glowing in her red eyes. "Do you have any more, tiny human?"

"No, ma'am," I said with a sad shake of my head, my eyes on the blood and Styrofoam spread across the floor. I was going to grill those one day... "That was all the steak we had."

Her hope died, and she stared down at me with a cat's version of a pout, lip pushed out between her fangs. "And still no people?"

"No, ma'am," I said, shaking my head once more. "I'm sorry."

She sank to the floor with a sigh, lying on her belly and gazing up at me sadly. "I suppose that will do for now, then." She began to lap the blood up off of the floor, and I felt genuinely bad that I couldn't offer such a magnificent and terrifying creature more dead animal flesh.

I walked across the room to retrieve the spell book I'd thrown at the piano, leaving Krekkel to her leftovers. "I wonder what else is in here," I muttered to myself, and I heard the cat ripping into the Styrofoam behind me. I glanced back, finding her licking the blood from a piece of Styrofoam that she had pierced with a claw and lifted before her face, and I couldn't help a small smile. In a way, it was cute.

I turned my attention back to the book, flipping through the pages once more. "Do Hellcats work a lot of magic?" I asked, stopping to peruse a spell about giving animals heart attacks.

"Yes," the big cat replied, and I heard her tearing the Styrofoam from her curved claw. I was surprised her flaming fur hadn't singed it. "But we, unlike you silly humans, work our magic based on instinct, not on spells from a book. Some say we're even the ones who created the spells in the first place," she boasted.

I turned to her, my eyes meeting hers over the high back of the leather couch. "Do you think you could teach me to work magic?"

"From there?" she asked, inclining her head toward the book in my hands. I nodded. "You don't need me to learn from there. You're capable of reading and performing such spells on your own. You managed to get me here, after all."

"But Van says that no one should work black magic," I said. "He says it's complicated, and people's spells backfire on them all the time. Shouldn't I find a tutor or something? So nothing goes wrong?"

"When things go wrong, its because the spell's caster was not properly obeying the steps of the spell." She rose to her feet, stretching languidly with an arch of her long, flaming back. It nearly brushed the ceiling. "As long as you follow the steps correctly, you'll have no trouble."

I looked down at the book, then turned to the cat once again. "Is there anything that you can teach me? Anything at all?"

"Are you looking to learn white magic or black magic?" she asked, her eyes growing serious when she realized that I meant what I was saying. "I know a decent amount of both."

"I...Which would you prefer?" Black magic destroyed your mind, I remembered Van telling me. He told me not to do it. But I always did like to do what people told me not to, and if he wouldn't teach me white magic...

Krekkel looked me over, taking in my tiny human body and determined eyes. "With power like yours," she began slowly, and my breath caught as I waited for her decision, "we'd be better off with black."