ays one and two of Therewolf captivity consisted of sewing sequins onto gender-neutral leotards within the confinement of my solitary cell.
Since we were new recruits, the Therewolves didn’t trust us with any important stage crew work, or to be in close contact with one another yet. Separated from my friends and Daniel for a couple of days, I found myself constantly wondering how they were doing. Had they also been driven within an inch of their sanity from so much sewing? Or had they been forced to perform other, equally monotonous tasks like highlighting lines in scripts or shining shoes with smelly polish?
Throughout the ordeal I’d been racking my brain trying to think of a way to escape. But my prison, like that of the others I was sure, lacked much to work with.
Since we were underground, there were no windows. And when they’d shoved me in here, I’d noticed the absolute heftiest of padlocks clinging to the outside of my cell’s solid steel door. The walls were also without weak spot. Plus, I had to contend with an enormous ball and chain clasped around my right ankle, which weighed close to thirty pounds.
At least if I’d had my wand there would have been some possibility of finding a way out—its unbreakable nature would’ve easily allowed me to hack through the chains and maybe even the door too. But the Therewolves had confiscated it and our other weapons. Now the only thing I had in my corner were my lock-picking skills.
After fiddling with it in between guard patrols, I’d managed to pick the lock on my ball and chain with my sewing needle.
This was definitely a win. However, since the lock to my cell was on the other side of the door and I had no way of reaching it, for the time being the small victory served no purpose. As a result, I’d decided to keep the ball and chain around my ankle and the lock-picking option in my back pocket until I had a follow-up move for escape.
On the third morning of captivity I was sewing my ten thousandth sequin when a very plump Therewolf wearing a tight corset appeared in my doorway.
“You, combat boots,” she said as she unlocked my cell, her arm fat waggling as she jiggled the rusty bronze key. “Come on, you’ve been reassigned to wardrobe and set design.”
She and another Therewolf led me through a series of torch-lined tunnels to a huge area that housed every kind of design material you could fathom. It was so big and winding I had no way of ascertaining just how far back it extended. Craning my neck, I saw that the space twisted into a myriad of extensions like a maze.
The ceiling here was high like in the main theater; it had to be to accommodate the storage of so many massive set fronts. Tables bearing everything from spray paint to chicken wire covered the floor, causing me to up my agility in order to avoid bumping into them. Costume racks provided rows and rows of color.
It was pretty packed, but I immediately smiled with relief when I spotted Blue and SJ. They were busy cutting fabric at a table in the corner—balls and chains clasped around their ankles as well. I was instructed to go over to them and gladly did so.
The second she saw me, Blue smiled too—unlike SJ. The cold shoulder she gave me sent shivers up my spine as I approached them.
“Crisa, I’m so happy to see you,” Blue whispered as I sat down beside her.
“Back ’atcha.” I nodded. “How long have you guys been here?”
“Since yesterday,” she responded. “I’m scared. They’ve been giving us weird looks.”
“Sure they have. We’re their groceries,” I said as jokingly as I could in order to try and ease her nerves.
Blue shook her head worriedly. “No, I mean besides that. They keep coming by to sniff my cloak and ask questions about where we’re from. It’s really freaking me out.”
I made sure no one was within hearing distance and then leaned in close to her. “Do you know what happened to our stuff?” I asked.
“I . . .” Blue stiffened as a Therewolf on the other side of the room glared suspiciously in our direction. He went back to his business a moment later, and I put my hand on Blue’s arm to calm her.
“It’s okay. We’re fine. What were you gonna say?”
“I . . . I heard one of them say they keep all confiscated supplies in the props closet over there in case they want to use any of it in their play,” she said, gesturing to a door. “But, Crisa, I still can’t get over what’s happening here. I mean, actors that morph into wolves? This doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yeah, well I pretty much gave up on sense when I almost got barbequed by a daffodil the other day.”
Suddenly SJ threw down her fabric. “Are you really making jokes right now?”
I raised my eyebrows. “You have a problem with that?”
“Yes, I have a problem with that,” she growled. “I do not know if it has escaped your notice, Crisa, but we are in serious trouble here. And it is all your—”
A Therewolf wearing a black leotard, suede kilt, and purple boa flounced around his neck came over to our station and interrupted SJ before she could finish. “The director has some questions for the two of you,” he said, nodding to Blue and SJ.
Blue’s face paled and panic filled her eyes. I squeezed her hand for reassurance. It was strange; usually she was the last person that needed any such comfort. But now fear was running wild inside of her and I realized that she had no experience with how to handle it.
“You’ll be okay,” I tried to convince her as she got up to leave with SJ.
After they’d left, I repeated the statement aloud once more—this time to convince myself.
Over the next few days it was all I could do not to punch Jason in the face.
I’d eventually been reassigned from the wardrobe and set design department to work with him and a half dozen other prisoners backstage on the physical set construction. The work was hard, but it was the least of my worries considering what Jason put me through.
My friend, whom I now realized really had always put others before himself, had transformed into the ultimate selfish twit.
Whenever a Therewolf came round with a new task to be done, he volunteered my services instead of his own. And he did so even more speedily if the assignment happened to involve any hard labor or potential danger. Then if he screwed up, he pinned it on me and I had to deal with whatever punishment our captors dished out in return. Usually this involved treating blisters on the feet of the troupe’s director, Mr. Pepperjack.
Ugh, you would’ve thought the man was a triathlete by the number of disgusting sores around his toes. They were almost as green and bulbous as that ridiculous piece of costume jewelry he constantly had hanging from his neck.
All this was nothing in comparison to some of Jason’s other antics though. For example, on day five of our captivity one of the sets we’d made—a wooden front for a cottage—came crashing down. Only I hadn’t seen it coming because I was busy building a trapdoor in the stage floor. Jason, however, had seen it coming. Except instead of warning me, he just took off. By the time I saw what was happening it was too late and I got totally squashed.
Many similar scenarios continued throughout the week, including mishaps with buckets of paint, falling curtains, and a nail gun that almost took me out arrow-through-an-apple style.
Overall, let’s just say it was a good thing that the Therewolves had first aid kits and fire safety equipment backstage. Otherwise they would’ve had to revise the sign in their lounge that read: “This troupe has gone 273 days without injury.”
To put it mildly, my patience with Jason was wearing thin. But I restrained myself from losing it with him since his current state (like SJ’s, Blue’s, and Daniel’s) was on me. Yes, the watering can had made them like this. But it was my ideas about finding the Author that had led us to the Forbidden Forest in the first place. SJ may not have been able to finish her comment the other day, but she didn’t need to. I knew this was my fault.
By day seven of captivity, Jason and I had different shifts. He was working on lighting backstage while I’d been relocated to work in the audience section of the theater. This safe distance was a small comfort, though, as I was becoming fairly preoccupied with concern for the others. I hadn’t seen SJ and Blue since my brief time with them in wardrobe and set design. And other than having spotted Daniel once in passing a few days ago, I hadn’t run into him either.
Needless to say that as the days went by I was growing increasingly worried about them. It was almost to the point where, if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve said I felt myself becoming a little . . . afraid.
My whole body cringed with defiance at the thought. I hated even sort of admitting that.
I hastily swallowed down the feeling like a spoonful of the vilest vinegar. The clock was ticking. Opening night was one week away, and I needed to think of a plan to get us out of here.
This proved to be a difficult task when the four other members of my group were nowhere to be found. Not having SJ and Blue around meant that I was missing the sounding board of my usual co-conspirators.
Yes, normally I took charge of developing our elaborate plots. But it was Blue and SJ who I’d always considered the geniuses behind their success. The combination of Blue’s daring with SJ’s sound judgment gave our plans balance and made them work.
Then again, even if I’d had my friends with me it probably wouldn’t have helped. Blue was a terrified mess and SJ’s head was clouded with meanness. Right now I was the only one who was able to think clearly, the only person whose inherent qualities could be relied upon. Which meant I had to ask myself, what did I actually bring to the table on our various adventures?
I found myself dwelling on this as I scrubbed blood spots from the Therewolves’ shirts and tried to avoid wondering where the stains had come from. Hopefully it was just fake blood from the make-up department, not the vestiges of a human snack. I assumed the odds of this were good given that only about ten of the Therewolves could physically transform into their wolf halves at any particular moment.
Evidently they were all on different cycles with the moon and could only morph into monsters if it was their time of the month.
I shook my head and tried to concentrate on something else. On stage, the troupe’s members were undertaking their first full dress rehearsal. It was an adaptation of Little Red Riding Hood of all things.
The production the Therewolves were putting on was a showcase of “re-worked” fairytales. That’s what they called them at least. In reality they’d just changed the endings of every story so that the tales’ protagonists were eaten by wolves. Oh, and they added a few musical numbers too.
I gazed at the set meant to portray the grandmother’s cottage in the show. The Therewolf playing the part of the grandmother was busy at her fake stove pretending to cook.
That’s when I saw it.
On set in the form of the kitchen knife I’d transformed it into, my wand was sitting on the countertop next to several other basic cutlery props.
If that wasn’t good enough fortune, I was even more elated when I noticed a glass bowl filled with SJ’s portable potions sitting on the set’s coffee table. The Therewolves definitely hadn’t known what they were and had decided to use them as decorative tchotchkes.
Just having the potions and my wand in close proximity gave me hope that escape was possible. In fact, the second I saw them, the gears in my brain began to turn like runaway carriage wheels. My eyes darted about the place calculating strategies and configuring scenarios. As I stared at the stage—its layout, its elevation, the giant curtains that framed it—ideas sparked inside my head and my heart sped with excitement.
I had the incunabula of plan.
Alas, my temporarily heightened spirit was extinguished at the sight of SJ and Blue being led into the theater. Seeing them for the first time in days should have made me ecstatic, but when they sat down next to me, I saw that Blue was practically in tears.
Their Therewolf guard instructed them to assist me with the shirt scrubbing. When he left I dropped my steel wool and turned to Blue. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head in response—unable to get out a single syllable. SJ sighed and rolled her eyes before she brought herself to explain what had happened on Blue’s behalf.
The reason the Therewolves had taken such a strong interest in SJ and Blue was because they’d suspected my friends were protagonists. The higher-up’s in the troupe had interrogated both of them over the last few days trying to verify this theory. But in the end it didn’t matter how many times Blue and SJ denied the allegations, because one Therewolf knew the truth.
This Therewolf was the brother of the same Therewolf that had tried to eat Blue’s sister Red when she’d wandered into the Forbidden Forest many years ago. One look at my friend and a sniff of her cloak for confirmation, and the vengeful actor-hunter hybrid confirmed Blue’s protagonist identity on the spot.
You would’ve thought this meant that our captors intended to eat Blue right away. But as it turned out, they actually had bigger, more sadistic plans in mind.
Evidently the whole “wolf eats main character” thing was an ongoing theme in all of their productions, not just the fairytale adaptations. And this recurring ending was made possible by the fact that the Therewolves only cast prisoners in those roles. Meaning that the eating of the characters at the end of each show was not acting but real devouring.
Getting one of Book’s actual protagonists to play such a sacrificial part was, like, the ultimate prize. So when they found out who Blue really was they immediately cast her in the role of her sister for their production of Little Red Riding Hood. Within the next few days she would be forced to memorize lines, get fitted for a costume, and learn a brief tap number in preparation for being eaten alive during the play’s premiere performance.
SJ had barely finished her story when the Therewolf who’d escorted them in came to collect Blue. He was carrying something in his left hand. When he reached us, he threw the brightly colored garment at her with great disdain.
“Let’s go, protagonist,” he said. “They need you in wardrobe.”
Blue held the red cloak with such terror you might’ve assumed she thought actual blood had given it its color. I also regarded the thing with dread, but for a very different reason.
Blue stood up and followed the Therewolf without question. I stood too, but not to go after her. I backed up a few feet and really looked around me for the first time since I’d been in this room.
The red cloak, the theater, the torches, the giant wolves . . .
Oh no. This is . . . This was . . .
My mouth dropped open as the images that my consciousness had tried to forget came flooding back.
I’d dreamed about this, about all of this. But how? How could I have possibly known about this place? How could I have known about that bunker back at the Capitol Building? Or the glowing red watering can? Or any of it?
I felt dizzy. Then I noticed SJ standing next to me. I had told her about this particular dream, and as she gazed around the room she was no doubt connecting the same dots I was.
Sure enough, when the spark of recognition flickered in her eyes she tersely punched me in the arm.
“Ow! Geez, SJ. What was that for?” I asked.
“This is all your fault,” she said bitterly. “You and your big ideas. You fill our heads with nonsense about taking our lives into our own hands and being who we want to be, drag us back and forth across the realm, and for what? Only to have you lie to us along the way and then get us eaten by predatory actors.”
“SJ, I—”
“You what, Crisa? Care about someone beside yourself? Want to be honest with the others?”
I grabbed SJ by the elbow and yanked her down. I pretended to get back to work and gestured for her to do the same so the Therewolves wouldn’t notice our argument.
“Not that again, SJ,” I whispered. “In case you haven’t noticed, Blue is about to be eaten during a poorly directed theatrical performance. Can we please put aside our personal issues for the moment and concentrate on the big picture?”
“This is the big picture, Crisa,” SJ hissed. “How can you not see that? This whole time you have been making the excuse that your dishonesty about what is going on with you was to protect us from dealing with your burden. But look around. We are not protected. We are all in this mess together. And maybe if you had trusted us with the truth, we might not be.”
“That’s not fair,” I protested. “How was I supposed to know what to do with a dream about Blue being attacked on stage by a giant wolf?”
“You tell me; you are the one who can apparently see the future,” SJ snapped.
I blinked. “Say that again?”
“I said you can see the future,” she reiterated. “That is the only explanation, is it not?”
It felt like someone had turned on a light bulb in my brain. That was totally it! I could see the future! That was why my nocturnal visions always felt so real. That was why the places and people I had been dreaming about actually existed.
I felt like such a dunce. How could I not have put two and two together sooner?
To be fair I’d had a lot on my mind recently. And having “psychic abilities” was not a natural assumption for any person to come to. But I still felt stupid regardless.
I stared into space, processing the revelation. It was weird and unsettling and incredibly cool all at the same time. Part of me was super freaked out because I didn’t know how or why I was able to do this. But another part of me felt somewhat relieved and more confident now that I had some understanding of what was going on inside me.
Suddenly I felt a strange, icy tingle emanating from my fingers. I glanced down and realized that my entire right hand was liquid metal. The watering can’s magic was fluctuating.
Really? I rolled my eyes. You’re telling me that the strongest part of my personality is being able to see the future? It’s a pretty cool development and everything, but that’s not even a trait so much as it is a skill. I feel like I’m being gypped here.
After a moment the silvery effect evaporated into my skin. I flipped over my palm, expecting to find a word branded there. However, much to my surprise the smudgy tattoo merely flashed scarlet before returning to its normal, blurry state. There was no word, just the same blob.
Hmm. Okay, I guess that’s not it.
I wondered why the mark had started acting up even though I hadn’t solved the watering can’s riddle but decided it was probably just another side effect of the enchantment.
“All right,” I said at last, looking at SJ. “I can see the future. Apparently. That’s, um, different.”
“Different is one word for it,” SJ replied. “Another would be ill-timed. It would have been a lot more helpful if you had figured out this was your Fairy Godmother-induced power sooner, Crisa.”
“Wait, what do you mean? This isn’t my power, at least not the secret one that’s supposed to develop from the magic Emma gave me to make my wand work.”
“That is ridiculous,” SJ scoffed. “Be logical, Crisa. Of course this is your power. Why in the realm would it not be? Psychic abilities do not fall from the sky. This skill of yours is clearly something magical.”
I paused but then shook my head decidedly. No offense to SJ, but logic didn’t matter in this case—instinct did. And mine told me that despite what the facts were suggesting, seeing the future in my dreams was not my magic power. It just wasn’t. I could feel it.
“Look, SJ,” I finally responded. “Emma said that when I discovered my power I would know it, like I would sense it in my gut or something. And if that’s true then I can tell you with utmost certainty that whatever this is, it’s not my power. I’m not saying it’s not something magical, I’m just saying that it’s something . . . else.”
SJ rolled her eyes. “Fine then, Miss Know-It-All, maybe it is not your power. In any case it is what we have to work with at the moment, so hurry up and use this ‘something else’ of yours to get us out of here.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Well, what have you dreamed about lately?” SJ asked, the annoyance in her tone rising.
“Nothing,” I admitted.
“Crisa, you lie to me again and I will punch you.”
“SJ, you already did that; pretty hard, by the way. And I’m telling you the truth. It’s the strangest thing. I haven’t had a single dream since we’ve been here. Frankly, I haven’t slept this peacefully since I was home for the summer.”
“Wonderful.” SJ scowled. “In that case, what else do you have?”
“What do you mean?”
“Crisa, you are the one who always directs our mad plans. You must have something up your sleeve.”
I sighed. “SJ, we both know that you and Blue are the ones that make our plans work. Past the inherent crazy that helps me come up with them, I’m not even sure what I contribute.”
“Wow, you can be dense. That is an easy one,” she scoffed.
“Is it now?” I replied, genuinely curious. “Well then enlighten me, Oh Mean One.”
“And inflate your ego?” SJ crossed her arms. “I do not think so. Tell me what you have in terms of a plan for escaping and then let us see if you can figure it out for yourself.”
I glanced around to make sure there were absolutely no Therewolves within earshot and then scooched closer to her. “All right, fine. I do have something,” I admitted. “Look up on the stage. You see what’s on that coffee table?”
SJ turned her head and her eyes widened. “Are those—”
“Yes,” I interrupted. “My wand’s up there too. It’s disguised as one of the kitchen knives. I’ve been doing some recon over the last week during shifts and between that, your potions, and my wand—I think I’ve finally got a few ideas in the works. But in order for them to pan out we’re going need a list of our job assignments for opening night, a script with stage directions, three rubber bands, a jacket, and, most importantly, I’m going to need you to do something that I haven’t been able to do myself and that I definitely don’t deserve.”
SJ looked at me skeptically. “And what, dare I ask, is that?”
“Trust me,” I said.