A woman remains.
She sits on her knees, back bowed, head bent, hands held in front of her with fingers stretched wide. I watch as she flexes each one, as if testing their authenticity. Long blonde hair trails over her shoulders, only partly covering her nudity.
“Hello,” I say, my voice cracking on the greeting.
Her head jerks up, gaze clashing with mine, and I swear her irises have their own golden light.
My sisters and I didn’t discuss this. What to say when the curse was broken. We brought clothes because Ame had explained Jack was naked when he transformed. She alsowarned that there might be some attempted kissing, but that also could have been particular to Jack.
Honestly, if this woman wants to kiss someone, I volunteer.
Stop that. She is obviously terrified.
I can still see the toxic orange aura of fear around her.
Or wait …isthat her aura?
“You’re safe,” Ame informs her from over my shoulder.
“The sorcerer is dead,” Mor adds.
The woman’s eyes widen, and trembling overtakes her body. Just like when she was a rabbit. I want to say something to ease away that fear.
“I’m Broderick,” I offer with what I hope is a disarming smile. I clear my throat, vocal cords ragged from screaming out spell words. “Nice to meet you.”
She doesn’t respond. Only shakes.
“We have clothes. And blankets.”
The sound of movement behind me is probably one of my sisters grabbing those things, but I don’t want to look away from our new arrival for even the moment it would take to check.
“We’re here to help. Whatever you need. You’ve actually been living with us for the past month,” I babble, not sure if my words are helping the situation. But something in me needs to keep her attention my way. “We live in a library, not far from here. There’s room in the house, if you’d like to stay with us. Even with you taking up more space than you used to.” I try for an easy smile, but the joke falls flat. Most of my jokes do. “I just meant, since you’re a person now. Not a bunny. That’s what we called you—Bunny. Only because we didn’t know your name. You were a very cute bunny.”
She flinches, and I immediately regret the comment. I should’ve left the talking to Ame and Mor.
“I’m not”—her voice crackles like the logs on a fire—“a bunny.”
“No. Of course no?—”
She bursts into flames.
Mor, who had stepped toward the woman with a blanket, stumbles to a stop. Meanwhile, I scramble forward, desperate for a way to put out the consuming fire.
“The flames are hers.”
Ame’s warning shout stops me when I’m inches away, hands stretched toward the fire, as if I could simply pat it out. Blood oozes from my open wound, dripping onto the grass between us.
The freed woman stares at me as she burns, but her skin doesn’t char or melt.
“You’re a phoenix?” I gasp the question, heart beating at a rapid, irregular rhythm.
As close as we are, I watch the emotions play across her face. Anger, pain, devastation, fear, fury…
“Not a phoenix.” Her eyes leave mine to stare into the sky. “I am free.”
She launches herself into the air, body changing as she rises. A flaming creature with wings that spread wide.
Mor walks up to my side, my shirt in her hand as her eyes watch the mythic disappear over the spindly, leafless treetops and spires of pine. “Phoenixes only catch on fire at the beginning and end of their life cycles.” My librarian sister educates me in a distracted voice.
