This Magical Girl is Mine

Lilith hadn’t thought long about her name when asked to choose one. Privately, she didn’t believe most witches or magical girls had spent all that much time thinking about their appellations, but unlike them, she had an excuse; she’d already renamed herself years before accepting the call.

It was a fairly stereotypical name in her circles, bandied about in the same breath as Lily and Luna. There were some who avoided those names for that reason, but Lilith cared little for that reasoning; popularity was not cause for rejection of something that carried true weight.

In a certain mythological tradition, Lilith was the first woman and the first rebel. The name of Lilith was a symbol of defiance against unjust hierarchy. Lilith was a name for exiles and outsiders. A name for those who wanted to burn it all down and make something new.

So Lilith was her name as a witch, and she had no other name; she was not the kind of woman to live a double life and maintain a secret identity as a normal human. She had no use for the pretense.

She wondered often about the name “Strix Striga” and why it had been chosen. The etymology was interesting: the strix was a demon bird from antiquity, sometimes written as striges, that came to be associated with witches. There were also vampires in Eastern Europe with similar names, and strix was used for a genus of owls. The owl was the sacred animal of Athena, which had long been speculated to be the name of Striga’s power. Was the connection a coy hint, or had a much younger Striga already been considering how to strengthen her power through manipulation of symbols? Was “witch bird” a taunt at her enemies?

Perhaps it was merely a whim. The mind of Striga had vexed many, and Lilith often.

Lilith had worked with Striga for years. Backroom deals had been the foundation of Coterie and Vanguard, and the reason their organizations had survived while other, similar organizations withered on the vine. The political landscape of the Pacific Northwest had once been far more complicated than the set of four factions that now occupied it, but all the rest had been exterminated by their rivals. The Syndicate had survived—cockroaches that they were—but they were constantly teetering on the brink of annihilation, left alive only because it was useful to collect all your enemies in one place.

The simple fact of the matter was that Strix Striga wiped out any group of witches unwilling to play by her terms. The Coterie existed because of its agreements with Striga, both public and private. This had been a source of considerable conflict within the organization for as long as it had stood; there were many who disdained being tied to the will of another, particularly when that other was an outsider.

When the Coterie arranged a terror attack to frighten political elites, Vanguard put it down to gather the soft power needed to push through policy. It was a slow process, without glory, and it meant allowing Strix Striga to dictate political strategy for both organizations.

But now all that was about to change. When the storm passed and the wreckage settled, the de facto queen of the PNW would step down from her throne and leave it empty—a power vacuum. Perhaps she believed an equilibrium would settle, with all parties working together for mutual betterment. But Striga had never struck Lilith as overly naive.

When the knives came out, Lilith would make sure she owned more of them than any of her rivals. To achieve her dreams of liberation, she would need more power than she had.

“Getting real sick of this place,” Howl muttered as they flew over the streets of the false Spire’s eerie theme park. The two witches had ended up side by side—intentionally, on Lilith’s part—as the group traveled through the World of Glass.

“The noise gets quite annoying quite quickly,” Lilith agreed. “Herbalist and I started bringing earbuds to block out the prattling with music.”

Howl was one of the only real prospects for recruitment from the group that Striga had put together. Herbalist and Archon were too personally loyal to the heroine, so those were dead ends. Ferromancer’s history with the Syndicate and habit of forming fixations made her untrustworthy. Harlequin was ostensibly loyal to the Coterie, but Striga had some hold over them that Lilith didn’t understand. That left Agatha and Howl.

“Been enjoying your chats with Striga’s pet sorceress?” Howl asked probingly. A tinge of hostility toward their leader. An invitation.

“I respect Herbalist’s work,” Lilith said diplomatically, “but she’s quite stiff in her loyalties. Despite my best efforts, today’s meeting was the first time I was given even an inkling that Valentine’s was going to be our deadline. It makes me wonder what other secrets Striga is still keeping close to her chest. I don’t believe for a moment that she’s truly unveiled everything with that speech.”

Howl snorted. “Someone like her will never give you the full story. But then, I imagine you’re hardly forthcoming yourself.” There was an edge of danger to that line. A warning, perhaps, not to fuck around and bullshit the other witch. Lilith respected that.

“I think you’re a coward,” she said bluntly. “But you’re also strong and well-connected, and I need more people like that. How’s that for forthcoming?”

Irritation flashes across her face, swiftly replaced by mirth. “Good moxie, but you’ll have to try better than that. I don’t do politics games, and that seems to be all your little cabal is good for, Lils. I’m not the type to play pretend for the camera.”

“What are you the type to do?” Lilith asked, angling herself to better meet Howl’s gaze as they flew. “Because from my perspective, you bummed around doing very little until Striga called. You’re skilled, no doubting that, but you’ve never applied those skills to a cause. You don’t seem to believe in anything except disbelief. You seem entirely ignorant of what my organization actually does, given how you talk about it. We’ve made great strides—”

“You and the Syndicate are two sides of the same coin,” Howl cut her off. “You all think your power gave you the right to rule—your side just spends more effort framing it as a responsibility in order to make yourselves look good. I’m not trying to rule anyone; I’m here to live my life, and damn anyone that gets in the way.”

“You’re a coward,” Lilith repeated. “You decry us for mistaking right and responsibility, but what about your responsibilities? You call us wrong, but you haven’t fought us. If you see something you don’t like, you should change it. But you haven’t even tried. You’re content to drink it all away while insulting others for caring. Cynic. Misanthrope. Coward.”

Something in the other witch’s expression tightened. “Picking fights you can’t win isn’t bravery, it’s stupidity. I see to myself, because that’s all any of us can do.”

“You’re wrong. In the Coterie, we see to each other, and it works. We disagree constantly, but then we talk it out and find compromises that will allow us to pursue our shared goals—to make the world a better place, because that’s what we all want, and it’ll only happen if we force it to happen. Do you really take umbrage with any of that?”

“What do you actually want from me?” she asked instead of answering. Lilith took that as a good sign.

“What I’m offering,” Lilith stressed, “is the chance to be a voice in the room where the future gets decided. You may think of it as a consulting position, if you wish. You have connections to other parts of the world and you know more about the World of Glass than anyone in the Coterie. Share your expertise. Help us navigate the coming storm.”

This book was originally published on NovelFire. Check it out there for the real experience.

Howl grumbled, but then she said, “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.”

The door to the third layer of the tower was kept shut by a magic seal. Lilith and Herbalist had been studying that seal for several weeks, and they believed they understood it well enough to remove it from the door and replicate it on Jupiter’s prison. There was, of course, an implicit promise of danger in this act; would their own seal have the same vulnerability? They would need to improve upon the design so that their own work was not unraveled by a single clever witch heeding the call of the Jovians.

The Morrigan had a few ideas, and Striga had shared her own. It was doable. Lilith believed in her own ability, if nothing else.

Together, witch and magical girl channeled their power into a ritual construction and devoured the seal upon the door. It was stripped to its parts and folded down until the complex magical diagram fit on a simple wooden cube procured for the occasion.

As a group, they entered the next floor of the false Spire. It was a casino.

Like any casino, it was a disorienting riot of light and sound. Flashing slots rang out, gaudy chandeliers were carefully placed to maintain the right atmosphere, and neon lines directed marks to all the wonderful ways they could lose money. The carpet had an eyesore pattern, and everything else was gold and red and vivid hues.

And there were women. Magical girls and witches plastered over all the slots and television screens, of course, but also women in the flesh behind poker tables and running roulette, and women in fishnets and leotards carrying trays of drinks. Glassy-eyed, all of them, and insubstantial to some sixth sense of Lilith’s.

“Repulsive,” she muttered. “Every layer of this tower worsens my opinion of that pretender goddess.”

Archon snorted. “You needed to see anything more than Visage?” She reached for a passing glass of wine and had her hand slapped away by Howl. “Hey, rude!”

“One of those will be poisoned eventually,” Howl snapped before taking a drink from her hip flask.

“Bah. Spoilsport.”

“Focus,” Striga commanded. “Make for the next tower. Eyes open.”

So they flew on. They stopped a few times to gather information, but the process was unenlightening; the “staff” of the casino were no more intelligent than the machines of the first level, and there were no secrets or clues hiding just out of sight. Most of the group had some means of gathering magical information, and nothing came up. The casino floor, like the other two, was just a display.

A layered tower, with each layer emphasizing a different detail of whatever sick project Venus was embarking on. A theme park, a shopping mall, and a casino. All of it laid out for them to see. A theory had been presented when they only had two floors to examine, and it seemed to hold: the tower was taking in conceptual energy—the attention, desires, and beliefs of the masses—and filtering it through its layers.

The next tower was identical to the tower that came before it, and before that. Another replica of the Visage Spire in a clear, open space, surrounded by the trappings of the infinite casino. Its doors were marked with the glowing sigil of Venus.

Striga ordered, “Everyone with an info power, take a look, but be careful. The rest of you, keep watch.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Venus, and then a fingersnap parted the world into darkness and distant light.

In the dark, the riffle of playing cards was the only sound. A table had been set, green felt and rich wood. Behind it sat Glamour, the Visage witch, naked and bedazzled as ever. She grinned as she shuffled. “So nice to see you again, Lilith. Ready to join the winning team?”

“Hello, traitor,” Lilith said calmly. Then she pinged her comm device and called out, “Can anyone hear me? I’ve been separated by Venus.” I presume we all have.

Only static answered. Glamour’s grin grew an iota more smug. “Guess that Ferromancer wasn’t worth much after all, huh? Maybe Striga can cut through the black.”

“Does posturing become you now, Glamour? Your service to Venus has lowered you.”

Glamour’s body rippled, feathers waving in an unfelt breeze, and then she was someone else—or rather, then she was herself: just an ordinary girl, gangly and unkempt in clothes that didn’t fit, long hair covering most of her face. The kind of girl that didn’t take care of herself, because what was there to take care of?

And then that girl was gone, and a pretender took her place. A too-perfect blonde bombshell in a flattering vest, shirt unbuttoned to tease her cleavage, lips pink and eyes bright. “Does that really mean anything?” she asked, voice sultry. “We were already the lowest rung, you and I. If you thought otherwise, you’d show them the face the world gave you—but you cling to your persona as much as I do, so stop playing high and mighty. You want to be accepted more than you want to make a statement, admit it.”

“Projection is a bad habit,” Lilith said calmly. “Is this farce necessary?” With a splay of her fingers and a crossing of her arms she drew power forth and brought it to bear against the darkness around her. Sparks flew, but the darkness didn’t part.

Glamour laughed. “Talk about farce. I think you’ve seen this place enough times to know it won’t be that easy.”

Lilith sighed. “What’s the point of this, Glamour? I was expecting another disappointing round of flattery and false promises from your mistress.”

“I thought we could keep it between us, this time. You may hate me, but I don’t hate you. You’re misguided, that’s all.” Glamour set the deck of cards down and leaned forward, putting earnest concern on her face. “We were priestesses once, Lilith—the darlings of the temple, loved and revered by all. We could be that again. Given value, not just tolerated. You’re campaigning for scraps out there when you could be turning the tables.”

Despite herself, Lilith’s hackles raised. “You dare make those arguments to me? You betrayed us, Glamour. We were seeking true liberation for our people—for all peoples—and you left us for some self-serving wannabe goddess. How could you? You’re just another boot now.”

Glamour scoffed. “You think every trans woman—every queer woman, frankly—needs to be a political activist fighting for the cause. Must we all suffer? Must we all deny ourselves personal advancement, sacrificed to the vainglorious throne of virtue? Is that the texture of your precious liberation?”

Hands settled around Lilith’s shoulders. The witch jerked away, power gathering at her fingertips as she stepped back from the looming form of Venus. The darkness peeled away into an endless field of roses, petals swirling through the air.

“Hello, Lilith,” the false goddess greeted warmly. “Have you ever thought about why you present yourself the way you do? Dangerous and eyecatching, like a poisonous animal. Not so prickly as some, perhaps, but you’d never ‘lower’ yourself by actually trying to appeal to anyone. Layers of defenses masquerading as ideals. You suffocate your potential.”

“I see you’ve given up on appeals of your own,” Lilith bit back. “Tired of showing me worlds I’d never agree to live in?”

Venus waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, not at all. I’d show you a dozen more if I thought it would accomplish anything. But I think we’re past that. You know what’s at stake, and what’s to come. A new world is about to be born, Lilith. My priestesses will usher in a new age—our age, forged by our hands. You could be part of that. Shaping the world to your will, forcing your opponents to bend the knee and accept your demands. Why settle for handouts when you could rule on high?”

In the past, Lilith had been tested and found wanting. If not for Striga’s ludicrous offer, Lilith might have finally accepted the latest entreaty of the goddess. She was not immune to the temptations of power. And yet. “There is no freedom in power that comes with strings, and yours is the worst kind. The priestly caste think themselves masters merely for cracking the whip against their fellow slaves. I am more than that.”

Glamour rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, and Marx said religion is the opiate of the masses. We’re not the masses, Lilith. We’re above them. What you’re doing now, playing nice with everyone, playing within their bounds? It isn’t working. What have you actually won? And don’t bring up that little victory Striga bought you with.”

Lilith narrowed her eyes. “You want to talk material results? What have you done for anyone? You can promise me as many futures as you like, but we’re both alive in the here and now. What has Venus accomplished in all these years of gathering power and influencing the world? What goals has she demonstrated pursuing? I’ll tell you: simply the accumulation of ever more power. Because that is what creatures like her do. I reject Venus. I reject you, Glamour.”

Glamour only smirked. Venus sighed, and said, “Alas, I suppose you shall be left behind. I will offer once more, before the end. You do not want to feel my wrath, Lilith. I have struck with velvet hand not out of necessity but out of mercy. Those who join me shall be granted a place in my paradise, but those who stand against me shall face great and terrible vengeance. Choose.”

Venus and Glamour melted away in a flutter of rose petals, and the field with them, and then Lilith stood once more before the sealed door to the next layer of the tower. The others stood with her, grimacing or laughing or shrugging off whatever they just experienced.

The voice of the false goddess echoed around them. “Examine the last door as much as you like; it won’t open until the day of my ascension. I’ll be there. And I can’t wait to watch you burn.”