So it came to pass that for the first two months, Mayberry began her new life as a student.
At seven, after sleeping in the light of the same morning, she'd throw on her uniform and come downstairs for breakfast.
Then, reported to Seir's class, where she would reminisce on Halloweens long past while he touched on such make-up tips to simulating aging, surface wounds, or scarification. Followed by rehearsals on how to lie and persuade if caught and timed games of Hide-and-Seek throughout the house to work on her concealment skills.
Lunchtime would roll around, and then "recess," which consisted of strolling around the grounds for some air or stretching her legs before her last and most intense class of the day.
Report to the gym and, after limbering up, either workout to increase her strength for the Lion half of Marchosias' improvised Chimera Style combat, speed training drills for her tail and the toughening of its barb to satisfy the Serpent half, and trampoline work and a series of jumping, plyometric exercises to gain the speed, agility, and balance needed for the Goat half.
Every other week was devoted to katas and sparring. Still, all was under the critical eyes and punishing correction of the wolf and the scathing, taunting tongue of Ms. Treat.
The mansion's private, two-floor library carried the discrete voices of two pensive Goetia walking by a pile of stacked tomes on the floor by an aisle.
Seir seemed the most pensive, his eyes sweeping over every table and corner he saw. Apart from a maid dusting the shelves of a distant aisle, his search was unsatisfactory.
"Who are you looking for?" Amy asked. "Marchosias?"
"Nah, he's flyin' around the house," he explained. "I'm looking for May. Class assignment. She's gotta hide from me today."
"And how is she doing?"
"So far, so good. Hard as hell for me to look for somebody when I can't haul ass. But, I'm glad she's learnin'. Case a place and look for good hiding spots if things go south."
"Is anything wrong, then?"
Seir took his ease, leaning against a thick table. He wanted to look collected, but his eyes still betrayed his concern. "Yeah, the future. We gotta shut down whoever knows about us before I slow time down again, or we won't have any time left."
Amy's soft face turned grim. "True. I would hate for the 72 Goetia to be reduced to 69.
Seir leered. "Or for 69. Just kidding, but I hear ya. Marco's been gettin' antsy lately. He even wants us to bail and say we don't know him if the shit hits the fan."
"That's like him, although I don't know why he'd want to take the blame," Amy nodded. "But, what about May? Maybe we should have waited until this problem was cleared up before we asked her to join. No sense in complicating her life so soon after we saved it."
"True dat," the prince sighed, strolling over to one of the library's large curtains and peeking around it. No May. "I don't want her getting caught up in all of this, either. Maybe I'll just...call the whole thing off and get her out of here."
"I hope she'll understand if it comes to that. She's only doing this for the children, after all."
"I know," Seir commented, leading his friend out of the room. "Anyway, we'll see what happens."
Once departed, the library was left as empty as before, with only the books acting as silent witnesses to the proceedings...along with someone else.
Exiting from the aisle she was dusting, May, in complete French maid disguise and topped with a brunette wig, stopped to glumly ruminate.
"I can't get kicked out, now!" she fretted. "I need to stay and keep training! I guess I'll have to help them find that leaker, or I'm out the door!"
Looking up at the library's wall clock, it told her that she had ten minutes to complete the class and the assignment.
"Right after class," she said, giving her feather duster a dutiful shake before she stepped out of the room.
Unseen from the second level railing, standing as watchful and still as a bird of prey, Ms. Treat noted her departure with a tome in hand.
In the center of the salon gym, May checked her breathing, drawing strength from it as she mimicked the Chimera Style's fierce-looking, dance-like katas alongside a Marchosias clad in sweat pants.
Hands were held in clawing attitudes, with arms moving in circular, defensive motions; legs spread apart for balance and foundation. Tails swayed for counter-balance and opportunistic striking and whipping positions.
Every part of the body was utilized for maximum effect and efficiency. In May's case, even her horns had a purpose, as she would gird her loins, stiffen her neck, and give the occasional head-butt to an imaginary foe.
Although she had to commit her movements to memory, the act of thinking reminded her of her voluntary investigations as of late. And in the quiet of the salon, she found an excellent opportunity to continue the hunt.
"I was thinking about asking the prince if I could test my disguises around you," she started conversationally. "Y'know, to see how well I'm doing."
"If so, then know that if you want to hide from the wolf, hide your scent, as well. So, how goes your lessons with him?"
Moving more relaxed, Mayberry smugly explained, "I blended in with the household staff all week. I've got the ass slaps from butlers and maids to prove it. They never caught on that it was me."
"Very good."
May changed her tone after quickly glancing at the room's empty doorway to ensure their privacy. "Uh, sir. Since we're shooting the breeze here, you ought to know that I've been using the time I had to ask around about your problem. With the letter."
"Why?"
"Well, what happens to you sort of happens to me, sir. I heard Seir say that he might have to let me go if this isn't taken care of.
"That makes sense."
"But, I don't want to go. If you're shut down, I can't learn anything more from you. So, I decided to pitch in and help find out who's doing this."
The wolf raised an eyebrow. "Really? And what have you learned?"
"Not much from the staff. So, I was hoping you might know something if I asked."
The marquis slowly reached out with a graceful combination palm strike and clawing grasp that May followed, saying, "I found the letter hidden in the stack of mail that was going to be sent out that morning. I had a letter for a correspondent that receives secret donations from us, but I had forgotten to place it with the others, so I went to put it in with the rest."
"That was when I saw a letter addressed to King Paimon in my name," he continued, pivoting his body and stretching his tail out for a strike. "I knew I wrote no such thing, so I opened it and read the note. It was a confession on my part, detailing the cause, its mandate, members, and secret correspondence. If I had missed that letter, it would have been our end, and even though we have yet to find out who sent it, I have to believe that this can be dealt with to our satisfaction."
"Wow," May mused, copying the move. "Sorry to hear that."
"It's clear that someone is out to ruin us," he said grimly, exhaling as he pressed his clawed hands in downward gestures to draw more strength.
"Well, don't worry, sir. We'll find him," Mayberry assured and imitated him. "Meanwhile, I'm going back to Prince Seir and obnoxiously pat myself on the back."
With her lessons bearing some fruit, she daydreamed of basking in the teachers' praise, a role reversal she hadn't experienced in quite some time. However, a familiar form appeared in the room's doorway, leaning against its frame and fouling her mood.
"Oh, do forgive the interruption, Your Lordship," Treat demurred. "But, I never took the time to truly compliment your home. I love the fact that I can actually hear myself speak instead of everything coming out as some psychic whisper. Why, I could clearly say to May things like, 'You're a bitch.'"
May bristled while she moved with the marquis but said nothing.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Treat mocked. "I was thinking about what Jerold must've screamed when she turned their bed sheets into a tie-dye that day. But then, they weren't all that clean when she showed up, were they?"
Mayberry set her jaw.
"I wonder if anyone who wasn't embarrassed to know her ever came to her funeral? Speaking of which, I wonder how Mother and Father are doing?"
Marchosias glanced at Mayberry's skin darkening beneath her workout clothes, her teeth gritting.
"Leave them alone," May half whispered, half growled.
"I hear that novelty T-shirts are sold by the word, so it must've cost them a pretty penny to print, 'We wanted to be proud of our daughter, but all we got was this stupid suicide.'"
Glowing, May's control finally broke. She rushed over to Treat, lifting her by the throat.
"I'd ask why you're here," May hissed. "But, I doubt I'll hear the answer after I turn your throat into a squeeze toy!"
"Silly girl. Why bother?" her double gasped amusedly, almost excitedly. "I can't disappear unless you cease to exist!"
"I like a challenge!"
Treat raised her hands in seeming supplication. "You're right. It was foolish of me to try and antagonize you. At least you didn't have to meet the traumatized students' parents. Guess you really ducked a bullet there. Oh, wait! You didn't."
"Agghh!"
Treat found herself sailing across the gym before rolling against its floor with a violent crash.
"Sinner!" barked the marquis.
"Honestly, May!" Treat sputtered with a grin. "You really do need to work on that temper."
Marchosias' stern eyes locked on May. "I appreciate your willingness to help us with our problem, but I will not allow this behavior in my house!"
"But, she started it!"
"She's your inner demon. Of course, she started it. You have to be in control of her. 'She started it' sounds like something children would say. Would you tolerate such a thing from them, Sinner?" he growled.
He was right. She did lose her cool and came off like a brat with a tantrum. With a sneer, she extinguished her light.
"No."
"Now, since you can't control your temper, perhaps a few laps around the pond out back will cool you off. Go."
May caught Treat's smug smile and stomped out of the living room, passing by an arriving Dark Mark. No peace would be found here.
Brushing herself off, Treat followed her out, but she and her cohort flashed a satisfied glance at each other before she left.
"Well, it's good to see that your ambitions haven't dulled," Dark Mark said without preamble. "Seeking to add mentor to the list?"
"I'm trying to teach, and you are just trying," the marquis muttered, not regarding him as he carried the wide mat they were using over to a corner.
"Trying to steer you in the right direction, as I have for years. Plainly, you've forgotten yourself."
Such insouciance was met with a low snarl. "You forget yourself, shadow!"
"So much for self-control, you hypocrite," his inner demon said smoothly. "Also, as I am you, forgetting myself is highly unlikely. As are the chances of making anything out of that Sinner you took in, like a stray. But, what will you have her do once your pup's been housebroken? Send her out into the wild as your knight-errand, so she can be cut down again? Quite the plan."
"She is her own woman and has served the name of good in her own way. She's determined. She's-"
"Immortal, sadly for her, and she will die again and again and again, like the quixotic idiot she is. You, however, will sit comfortably, learning all this from Seir's reports and Amy's ministrations of what's left of her. But, at least dear Mrs. Mayberry may shamble back to life if only to add her curses to your already grand collection."
Marchosias shook his head pityingly. "Blind arrogance. Do you think so lowly of her that she cannot succeed?"
"Not as lowly as I think of your ability to teach her. You're the cruelest of you bleeding hearts, building her hopes up. But, in the end, she might have been better off bleeding in the streets."
"Damn you."
"No, sir. I damn you," Dark Mark replied as he turned to leave the room. "Every single day."
The marquis' set jaw felt as tight as a rusted trap. With his inner peace now in tatters under unbidden drama and memories, Marchosias stood and brooded, in indignant silence, with a grim, introspective growl.