Page 32 of Of Socialites and Prizefights

“You found your way,” Roz noted from a little wooden bench tucked under one of the rose walls. She lounged with one arm slung over the back, an ankle crossed over the opposite knee.

“I’m dreaming,” Deepa said with utmost certainty.

“Sure. So am I.”

To her knowledge, Deepa had never in her life realised she was dreaming while in the midst of one. She would have expected it to be unsettling, but Roz’s presence grounded her, not least because Deepa suspected this was Roz’s dream more than her own. The harassment on stage at The Songbird had been hers, certainly, and likely Gir Forest as well, but this garden was as unfamiliar as it was beautiful, and she felt no recognition as she walked its paths.

So intent was she on studying the garden that she hardly noticed having left her leopard form back in the ferns, approaching Roz in her peony robe on the same two feet with which she’d been born.

“What is this place?”

Roz shrugged. “No name for it, or anything. Just something I made where I can come to be alone.”

Deepa crept up to the bench, looking around with wonder as the stars winked down at her. “Shutting yourself in the bedroom and locking the door doesn't do the trick?”

“I started building this place before I had a room of my own. Out there, someone always wants something from me. And I don’t mind it; like I said, I like being useful. Knowing peoplethink I'm reliable enough to ask favours of me, that makes me feel good. But I can't be doing that every minute of the day. So, when I need to shut all that out, get some peace and quiet where I won't be interrupted, I come here. Somewhere I can just sit and breathe.”

“It’s beautiful. Is it based on a real place?”

“Bits and pieces of a lot of places. Parks and gardens I’ve been to, photos I’ve seen, or places described in books. Like a scrapbook, of sorts. All the places I find calming, or that I'd like to go.”

“How long have you been building it?”

“Since I was a young ’un, before I even really knew what I was doing. Eleven or twelve, I guess. The oldest parts, I don't go around to them much anymore. They’re just about the same as they were then. I’ve got to be in the right state of mind to want that, you know? A certain brand of childhood nostalgia that doesn't do me much good now that I'm pushing forty.”

“I understand.”

Roz chuckled, not a mean sound. “Think you’re a bit young yet to understand it, but that's alright. You will.”

“You invited me here,” Deepa guessed.

“I’ve invited lots of girls here, over the years. Because — and this is important, yeah? — I can shut them out any time I like. No one gets in without an invite, and no one can stay if I don’t want them to.”

Deepa sat on the bench beside her, fitting herself to Roz’s side under her outstretched arm. “How did you extend the invitation?” she asked curiously. “I didn't notice anything.”

“I guess it wasn’t an invitation, technically. More like, I left the door open, and if you found your way through, I’d meet you here. I thought you could do with some peace and quiet,” Roz added in a softer tone. “You want to talk about it?”

With a mutinous frown, Deepa slumped deeper and crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

“One or two answers would be helpful, love,” Roz prodded gently, shifting her arm from the back of the bench to drape over Deepa’s shoulders. “You don’t have to tell me any details. Just enough for me to get by.”

Heaving a gusty sigh, Deepa leaned into her, but didn’t unfold her arms. Offering specific details was out of the question. That she had considered for even a moment that Roz might have been her true love’s kiss to break the curse — that was mortifying.

Still, Roz had a point about the rest of it, especially seeing as she’d gone to bed cradling a giant leopard without asking any questions, and was currently hosting Deepa in a very pleasant dreamscape.

“It's a recent predicament, as you guessed,” Deepa began. “Since last Friday, on the stroke of midnight I turn into that creature, quite against my will. My mind stays clear throughout the transformation, for all the good it does me, until I become human again at daybreak.”

“One week is hardly any time at all,” Roz said with a frown. “It's some kind of a curse? Do you know how to get rid of it?”

“It's proving stubborn,” Deepa replied shortly. “I expect I’ll have to find a professional to help, but I'm not interested in going through legal channels to do it. It shouldn’t be too difficult. Out of everyone I know, someone must have a contact who knows their way around curse-magic.”

“Legal channels might be faster.”

“And messier.”

If Deepa went to Scotland Yard’s magic division with her problem, in the course of breaking her curse — if they even could — they would very likely discover Phillip as its originator. She would either be pressured to keep quiet about his involvement,or, if he were confronted about his use of illegal curse-magic, he might retaliate in an even more unpleasant manner.

Either way, she certainly wouldn’t be pressing charges, much as she’d like to see him pay. The trial would be a sham and his family would buy him a cleared record. That he might ever see the inside of a jail cell, never mind prison, was laughable.

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