Ruby felt a lot more comfortable walking down the streets. For one, her ankles did not scream pain. No more confined to one size smaller Mary Jane shoes to struggle with. A pair of comfortable chelsea boots with golden trim -- Mom's insistence on a show of decadent extravagance -- adorned her feet. Compared to the four-inch heels of Mary Jane, Ruby found the two-inch heels of her current footwear acceptable. Plus, when she walked, it gave a swing to her hip. As incongruent as it might sound, when Ruby sauntered before the mirror with those shoes on, that enticing osciltion to her hips was mesmerizing.

  "Darling, don't you want to hold your Mom's hands?"

  With a huff, Ruby tried to stick her hands in her pockets. She found the pockets of her new mbwool longcoat to be tokenistic in nature.

  Mom chuckled, her expression swinging somewhere between vicious mockery and genuine mirth. "Our clothes do not come with functional pockets."

  "Impractical design." Ruby grumbled. With nothing to occupy her hands and lingering near with each step, she tugged the straps of her handbag -- another new addition from Mom's coercion.

  A backpack would have suited her needs just fine. Enough pce for a ptop, charging cables, water bottles, perhaps an extra pair of socks, and still more left. Those were effective choices. But Mom had the final word, like she always did. So Ruby, had a new handbag, and not just any, one with gilded straps.

  Luxury handbags and expensive shoes on a girl were the mark of her upbringing, Mom called it. Ruby thought that was how mean girls were made. She doubted these would stand through any real scrutiny. Ruby preferred thinking; all it meant was that Mom's fashion obsession can boil them down to simple terms. A reflection of her own self-conceitedness.

  For instance, she could consider one ready-made example. Take any dirty brunette boy, give him a stuffy buttoned shirt, bow tie, throw them together, making sure he wears oxfords, he is respectable. Now compare him against Dad. Dad will probably wear one of his polo shirts, his colr politely folded down. And probably a non-descriptive faded blue jeans and a decade old and well-abused faded timbernd boots, thrown together. And Dad would still be resplendent.

  Because, unlike Mom, Dad was not defined by an armour of prodigal decadency. Those would not compare to what he represented.

  Mom dressed impeccably. The freshly id stones paving along high street paled against her shoe soles. She glided effortlessly through crowds. They gave Mom generous berth. As though she can pull firestorms anywhere, they scattered while keeping a safe distance. But that was all Mom amounted to. Careful and custom-tailored appearance and a precisely crafted demeanour got her to where she wanted.

  "Ruby, get to the car fast." Mom suddenly hissed, her words sharper than a knife. "And lock the door, and keep your head down. No matter what, don't get out."

  The urgency lurking beneath Mom's controlled words triggered arm bells. Ruby hustled, fastening her steps. Her first thoughts were w enforcement officers. Perhaps a traffic camera or a distant bystander with an ill-timed mobile camera captured Mom murdering the man. All likely possibilities that Ruby discarded on a second thought. They seemed highly improbable. Probably a magic council or some other governing body, or some arcane alliance that oversaw magical events, caught wind of Mom's outburst and had sent their enforcers.

  The more Ruby pondered as she ran, the more likely the notion seemed.

  *What would that mean for her?* A witness or an Accomplish to crime?

  Ruby slid inside the passenger seat. She let her frame sink further. Mom, even if it were in her own cruel and twisted way, cimed to protect her. But would she?

  Mom may cast her aside. Leave her. It was all expected. That was definitely pusible. She had done it before, after her birth. Even now, Mom did not take the driver seat. She stood outside, the soles of her pristine shoes, tapping on the cement.

  Ruby's fingers trembled. Those fingers rested along the seatbelt buckle. Csping them together seemed tough. Pulling them apart proved difficult. Nor can she open the door. Mom had trapped her inside.

  Minutes passed.

  A frustrated huff escaped Ruby's throat.

  Then, Uncle Craven and Aunt Tasha came into view. Circumstance, defined otherwise, Ruby would have ran, stood before them, delivered a friendly jab at Uncle Craven's arm or gave a very willing hug to Aunt Tasha. Now, only an ashen cloud of apprehension remained.

  Mom's words -- words that were never mere empty threats -- twisted like knotted serpents inside her. She recalled the potency in her words.

  '*You can try your luck outside, run free, but I will find you. In fact, I can waltz inside their homes, defile everything they held dear.*'

  And barely an hour ter, she witnessed Mom murder a man. For Ruby, Morgane can drag the entire world, keeping her imprisoned; robbing her freedom. She can blot them all, rendering them blind, while she remained unerringly unnoticed.

  As though heralding an ominous premonition, Mom stood, legs firmly pnted and spread. Her fingers extended, drawing invisible patterns. All her fears for the Enderss coalesced in those subtle moments. Ruby shuddered, facing the unknown expanse ahead.

  Mom can command all. Anyone. Even them.

  Craven halted. He sniffed, his nose elevated.

  Tasha stopped. Her steps behind him paused mid-stride. Then they exchanged gnces. Her grip tightened on the small backpack she carried.

  Uncle Craven was tough. Ruby had witnessed it on occasions. Private security, all ex-military now working in the industrial sector and even skinheads with enough scars and tattoos, gave him a clear path. Ruby could only hope that he would rather take a hint, but knowing Uncle Craven, she feared the worst.

  "I would ask how you found me, Craven. I guess *sniffing* is your kind of thing?" Mom seemed rather undaunted. It was the kind of confidence of a pyer who controlled both sides of the board.

  "Enough Morgane. I am not a wolf." His lips set tight, nostrils fred. Both his brows formed sharp arches, gesturing to Ruby hiding. "Who is that girl?"

  "My dear Craven." Mom carried all the weight behind those words, both taunting and suggestive. "Do you see me waiting outside your house, asking about every girl you bring home?"

  "For fuck's sake, Morgane, that girl is probably as old as Reuben." Craven pced his foot forward, puffing his chest. "She could pass for your daughter."

  *How can someone be so close and still miss by a rge margin?* Only Uncle Craven could reach the truth and pass it by without a thought.

  "Look, Reuben forgot his mobile." Craven continued. "Marcel couldn't get hold of him. He tried calling you, but you won't answer. He is beyond himself. Do you know what yesterday was for him and Selina?"

  "Excuse me for not answering his calls. He was not the only one with a naked girl in his bed." Mom snorted, her lips forming a mirthless grin. "Are you telling me he could not perform yesterday? Was it not his duty st night to slowly deflower a chaste virgin, whispering sweet nothing in her ears? And he couldn't do that because his thoughts were filled with a boy?"

  Ruby wiggled in obvious discomfort. She witnessed mom insinuating her as her lovely pything. Then she went on to twist Dad's feelings. Morgane Spenard can inflict pain, not just with deeds, but her words could fy skin and rip flesh from bones.

  "He is a father worried about his kid." Craven snarled, the sharp of his canines glistened. "He would have dropped everything to come. I had to convince him to spend the morning te with Selina. So we are here."

  "Makes sense... he would send you. He knows where I live, but can't visit himself. Can he?" Morgane voice dripped acid. "Oh, wait, I forgot. He can't enter unless invited."

  Craven edged closer. Tasha reached forward, her grip found purchase along his elbow.

  Then Craven growled. "Watch your words, *Witch*. He is a hero to many." The cws were out.

  "Just answer Marcel. Okay? " Ruby caught a glimpse of Mom. She gave tantalising winks. "Tell him, his child spent the morning leisurely sleeping for long. He may even get back his erection."

  Aunt Tasha stepped between her husband and Morgane, her blue gaze icy and cautious, yet she dispyed resolute stoicism.

  "Cease this childish temperament, Morgane." Aunt Tasha may whisper, soft and demure, but her voice carried the stress of an authoritative pressure. "Marcel is not a vampire."

  "Sure feels that way. Incredibly charismatic. Magnetic eyes that could hypnotize." Mom drew her hands to herself and let out a feigned shiver that left very little to imagination on what she indicated. Her voice became shrill, bordering ecstatic pleasure mingled with rage. "And don't even get me started on him flying off into the night. Oh, and his obsession with a liquid thicker than water."

  Aunt Tasha stayed unperturbed. She tossed the backpack to Mom. "There is your child's mobile and ptop." Then, her tone dropped to a mentoring value. "Don't be *that witch*. Please don't keep a father from his child. Make sure Marcel gets to talk."

  "Congratutions, you really completed your assignment well." Morgane delivered her words, ced them with contempt. "Are you proud? I mean, you should be. You fulfilled your role of a fairy godmother really well and all. But now, the real mother is back. Your services are no longer required. Don't be disappointed. I will make sure you receive yearly cards for Mother's Day and Halloween."

  "Morgane, can you actually py mommy dearest?." Aunt Tasha straightened her spine, holding her gaze steady. "Give your wigs a rest, Okay? They are stretched thin, keeping your head from exploding with all the ego you stuffed inside."

  Mom rolled her lips. They formed a perfectly beautiful grin. Her canines glistened sharper than Uncle Craven's. They carried a deadly intent, one Mom can easily inflict and others may feel. "Go py happy families, Tasha. Oh, I forgot. In two days time, it's a full moon." Mom paused as she shifted her weight, all done with a slow and calcuted move. "Remember to keep your twins locked inside. I heard one of them has an allergy to fur... must be really difficult. Why don't I make an offer? Bring them home/ I will see what spell I can cook up."

  "You never change, Morgane." Aunt Tasha scathed. With a firm grab on her husband's arms, she turned, walking away.

  Morgane heaved her shoulders, feigning dejection. "Hey Tasha, Santa's sweatshop is hiring. I heard they give preference to your kind. You should just apply."

  Aunt Tasha continued her walk unfazed. But she raised her free arm, fingers curled to form a strong fist. Then, her middle finger rose skywards, showing the universal sign of respect she felt for Mom.

  "Here." Mom slid into the driver's seat and casually tossed the backpack to Ruby. "I think Marcel wanted you to have some of this stuff from your *former* life."

  The way Mom mentioned *former* seemed disturbingly insinuating, as though they were a distant past, like a bridge permanently burned; like she could never turn back.

  Mom ignited the engine and drove.

  After what could only be termed a tenebrous pause, where both sat inside with only silence as a constancy, Mom pressed her fingers along her exposed nape. "You can call your Dad." Her words may suggest freedom, but they can also easily wound.

  Ruby pulled her mobile. She ignored Dad's call history. Multiple missed calls, and a few messages. She scrolled to Dad's name and hesitated. A slight pause hung between two thoughts.

  Ruby wasn't sure, exactly, how to greet him. '*Hi Dad.*' Like they always used, and then? Expin why she sounded different?

  "Go ahead. Call him. I don't mind. Just pretend that I am not here." The amusement that danced on Mom's face was unmistakable.

  Even her seemingly offered choice of freedom came with manacles meant only for her whim.

  Ruby's fingertip glided over the dispy screen as she composed a brief message.

  Thu, 3:29

  "Hey Dad, All good. No worries."

  The mobile rang immediately. The dispy blinked the three letters she loved to see. 'DAD'. That was fast, almost as though Dad were anxiously holding his mobile, when he should be holding someone else in his hands.

  Ruby quickly typed out an excuse.

  Thu, 3:30

  "Sorry, can't really talk. Mom is beside, lecturing me on etiquette of farting."

  Thu, 3:32

  "Right, right. That's your Mom, buddy. Always worried about keeping up appearances."

  Ruby could not agree any better. Morgane Spenard cared more about her image than the feelings of others. Even if they were her own blood.

  Thu, 3:33

  "But buddy, it is her house, so please, follow her rules. I am sure once you get to know her, her requests can't be that unreasonable."

  Ruby had to stifle whatever emotions that rose inside. The unreasonable had already happened.Thu, 3:35

  "If I ask you to keep an open mind? Will you?"

  Ruby stared at the screen. She read the text twice. And then thrice. And one more time. The contents did not change.

  Where was Dad going with this?

  She watched the three jumping dots. They seemed to dance forever. Dad was never good with texting.

  Thu, 3:43

  "For a long time, it has been just us, right? You and me. Father and Son, combo team. We are like a super combo."

  That actually unleashed a few chained emotions inside. Ruby bit her lips, trying to compose herself. Thu, 3:46

  "We did things our way, and we did it good. But now, with Mom, the dynamics is different. She moves in a different css. More style and prestige."

  Ruby quickly typed out a response. Dad always took long in texting, like he didn't get the memo that texting is brevity.

  Thu, 3:47

  "I know. Firsthand experience with her breakfast. All small spoons. Full tea set. And silver design ptes."

  Thu, 3:48

  "My condolences"

  That actually brought a smile to her face. Just Dad. Twenty minutes and he was already making her day brighter.

  Thu, 3:50

  "Anyways, what I meant to say is, with Morgane you could pick and learn some other etiquettes, moving in higher society and those refined table manners and all. Just go with it. Okay, buddy?"

  If only, Dad knew what Mom demanded of her...

  Ruby clutched her Mobile tight while Mom seemingly focused on driving.

  Those three dots of Dad typing jumped as nervously as Ruby's heartbeat.

  Thu, 3:52

  "Just keep away from her inner circle of occult friends. They are bad news. But then again, that warning only applies if you were a girl. You know, I am so relieved you are a boy."

  Not anymore. If only Dad knew...

  If only he knew, how she vioted her every cell...

  If only Ruby could tell him how she rearranged everything because she wanted it...

  If only she could type it out how she finger fucked her mouth in a fitting room because it suited her pns...

  If only she had the courage to message Dad...

  But Mom's warning rang true in her ears.

  And she had a murder under her belt to prove it.

  Thu, 3:55

  "I should be back from our honeymoon by the beginning of september, just before your semester begins."

  First semester. University. Beginning of a fresh new life. Another pn derailed by Mom. Ruby didn't have the heart to tell Dad that that would not be happening. Even with Mom's offer to learn from her Coven and increase her powers to undo whatever she did, Ruby was not gullible.

  Morgane Spenard does not promise freely unless the benefit weighed on her side.

  It would have to be a gap year. Ruby cannot attend when admission states Reuben.

  Thu, 3:57

  "Let me make a promise. When I return we can squeeze in a week. Just us together. Camping. Father and son, against the wilderness. How does it sound, Buddy?"

  Not going to happen. Ruby felt like an impostor for shattering Dad's dream.

  That word. Father and son. Did something to her insides. Like Mom stabbed something sharp and Dad's hand held it and unknowingly twisted the bde to serrate her heart.

  Will Dad even take her...him to camping. That notion felt all wrong. Ruby could not pinpoint. Everything, her perception, her grasp on her surroundings, everything became distorted, with Mom at its centre.

  Thu, 3:59

  "Imagine. One week. Just you and me. No more fancy breakfast table manners. We can wake up in the middle of night. Go outside, zippers open, fps out, piss standing on top of rocky outcroppings and yodel at the moon, together."

  The dam broke. Tears flowed. The willpower with which Ruby held all together, Dad's message, the images they evoked, shattered her, leaving only broken pieces of herself to pick. That is, if Mom would even allow it.

  Thu, 4:00

  "That sounds great, Dad. Later. Going to grab a shower."

  Ruby tossed her mobile aside, and shrunk into her seat.

  "Darling, is everything alright?" Mom can sound caring when she wished to project that image of a doting mother. "Barely a day away from Dad, and are you that emotional? Homesick already? Ruby, darling, this is your home now."

  Ruby sniffled and answered in silence.

  Mom drove them further. Ruby studied buildings. Streets became busier. The skyscrapers loomed, growing taller, until Mom stopped, beside one tall monolithic tower. The silence from Ruby still remained.

  Morgane clicked her tongue. "If you want to keep ignoring me, then so be it." All intimate facades fell apart. Her voice changed, imbued heavy behind each sylble; they became suffocating. "There is kleenex in your handbag. Wipe your tears and compose yourself. When we meet Orith, I don't want to present a bumbling, teary mess for a daughter."

  Morgane moved fwlessly, occasionally dragging Ruby forward, pulling her arm. She walked through the opulent interior of the building, ignoring the three security personnel outside, and marched up to the reception.

  "Top floor, Orith. Please open the private elevator." Morgane unleashed her full force. Her voice rose, unyielding. It struck, binding and chaining. A pent-up force-filled sentence released, catching the poor receptionist girl unprepared. "And no, I don't have an appointment, but I am Morgane Spenard." Then it all dissolved. Her voice held normalcy, words ced with polite impertinence. She still squinted her eyelid slightly, their edges crinkled. "With my daughter, Ruby. Tell Or that, and she will be prepared for me."

  Mom's lips pulled further along her cheek, forming an enticingly tempting smile. Then she curtsied, bending one leg, her arms held elegantly outward. She daintily held her ankle, moving them gracefully, only releasing them when she completed her circuit.

  The effect was instantaneous. In that, the blush that fred on the receptionist girl made Ruby fear that she might combust spontaneously.

  "Morgane Spenard, did you say?" The girl held a receiver in one ear and spelled Mom's name like it meant the whole world to her. Whatever she heard next, it made her drop the lovesick expression. Her face paled. "I am sorry, I didn't realise who you are." She apologised, hands trembling and visibly shivering. "Your wife will now receive you and your daughter."

  ElenaV