Beautifully Dark Places
Chapter 11
Playing with Fire
I watched as Boris and Malorn argued quietly in the corner. It was nearly lunch time, and they had been interrogating her since six that morning. They were getting nowhere, and Malorn was getting anxious. He wanted to try a more… forceful approach to getting her to talk. Boris disagreed with him, saying that if we hurt her than we were no better than them. I was unsure which of them I agreed with. The girl was sitting in her chair, with her hair covering everything on her face but her smirk.
"What's your name?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant. She glanced up at me and laughed.
"The little lovebird wants to know my name?" She tossed her shoulder-length black hair to the side. "Genevieve. Genevieve Silverthorn." She stared straight at me, unblinking. It was as if she was waiting for me to jump up and say 'Ah-ha! It's her!' but I had no idea who she was. Meanwhile, Boris and Malorn had quieted in the corner. Nolan pulled me backwards, away from Genevieve.
"What's wrong, boys?" She grinned at them, and her hands—still bound to the chair at her wrists—turned to fists.
"Stay away from her." Nolan whispered, not taking his eyes off of her.
"Malorn," Boris said, watching as Genevieve struggled to get her hands free. "You win." Malorn smiled, tapped his staff on the ground, and a tendril of black smoke rose from the end of his staff and into the air. It wound its way toward Genevieve. Surprisingly, she didn't shriek in fear or continue to try to claw her way out of the chair. The smoke poked her arm, leaving a burned mark.
"Oh," Genevieve laughed, looking straight into Malorn's eyes, "so, this is how you treat an old friend, huh?"
"We were never friends."
"You right," She nodded, watching the smoke poke her other arm, "we were best friends."
"You were friends with her?" Boris's voice rose from the corner he was still standing in. Malorn glanced over his shoulder at him.
He sighed. "It was a long time ago, Boris. Things changed. She changed."
Genevieve smirked at Boris's reactions. "What's wrong? Did Malorn not tell you all how he was friends with a wanted witch?"
"You shut up." Malorn hissed, the smoke smacking her in the face. She turned from the impact of the hit, but then looked back at him, her jaw line burned from the smoke.
"Malorn here should have told you everything. Like how he—or we, I should say—played a prank on Sylvia Drake during winter, and she got lost. That's how she got sick, and that sickness is what killed her."
"Malorn…" Boris turned back to the boy in back, who was staring at the ground, "Say she's lying."
"Please tell me this isn't true." Nolan whispered to his friend. Malorn answered neither of them.
"He should have also told you that he knew who Nolan's real father was—" Nolan's head snapped up to look at him. Tears filled the edges of his eyes.
Malorn stopped Genevieve where she was. "Don't say another word," he held his staff up at her, "or I will finish you." Boris knocked the staff out of his hands and wrestled him to the ground. Nolan dragged another chair into the room, and Boris lifted Malorn into it and tied him up just like Genevieve. Malorn shook his head at his two friends and argued about how it was a long time ago and he was no longer friends with the girl.
"He knew who your father was Nolan." The girl grinned at Malorn. "He knew the whole time, and even told me. He was a lot of your problem in school. He was the reason you got made fun of, and honestly, I don't know how you haven't figured that out."
"No, I swear Nolan—"
"Shut up." Nolan waved his hand at him for silence.
Genevieve smiled up at Nolan. "All those years of being picked on—tortured really—could have been stopped by the very person you called your friend." Nolan stepped away from her and paced beside the front door. Boris moved closer to Malorn and Genevieve. "Ah, Boris Tallstaff, how long has it been? Five years?"
"More than that," He sighed, leaning on his staff as he watched Genevieve. His white hair fell awkwardly from the side of his head from the incline he was at.
"I've missed you," She smiled wickedly; I began to wonder if the blood red lipstick she was wearing was laced with snake venom. That was the only other insane thing I could think of her doing to hurt the boys.
"I missed who you used to be; when we were little." Boris shook his head, "After we turned ten and started wizard training you went insane."
"I'm not insane." She stated simply. "I just learned to look out for me and to get what I wanted however I had to."
"Wait," I interjected in their conversation. "Boris, you just chewed Malorn out for being friends with her, but you were friends with her. So what's going on?"
Genevieve sighed. "I hate when people stick their noses in my business." Boris and Malorn exchanged confused looks.
"Malorn, why are you tied up?" Boris asked in confusion.
"…Wha…" Malorn blinked sleepily. Nolan looked between both of them in bewilderment.
And then it hit me.
"She's charming them."
"What?" Nolan looked up at me and shook his head, black hair swishing. "She's a pyromancer; she can't charm."
"I'm from Dragonspyre, sweetheart." Genevieve smirked, her red lips contrasting deeply from her pale face and green eyes, "Dragonspyre women have excessive charm."
"You're insane." I shot at her. She simply shrugged.
"Want to see me charm your little lover boy here?"
I smacked her across the face. If anyone was going to get answers out of her, it would be me. Her black hair flew around her from in force of my hand. She hissed at me, as if she were a snake or a pissed off vampire.
"See, here's where you screwed up, Genevieve. First, you came to Wizard City and hurt kids who haven't even been enrolled into their classes yet. Second, you messed with Nolan. Third, you messed with my friends." I leaned in closer to her, eyes narrowed and fingers clamped around the knife I had stuck in my belt earlier this morning, and continued my list of things she had done wrong: "and fourth, you messed with me."
She pushed herself as far out of the chair as she could, hands still bound to the old maple armrests, and actually attempted to bite me. I pulled the knife out and sliced a gash on her cheek. Stunned, she fell back into the chair and blinked at me. I placed my hands on top of hers, letting my rage flow through my fingers until she cried out from the cold. I leaned back. Her hands were frozen to the hair, in what was almost two solid blocks of ice. The gash on her cheek flowed quickly, even though it wasn't very deep, and had begun to stain the red tunic she was wearing even darker.
"Malorn and Boris wanted to play the easy way." I hissed at her as she tried to melt the ice on her hands with her pyromancer powers, "I play the hard way."