Page 15 of Wicked Chains
And I do. When I was eight, my mom and I were staying in this run-down murder motel in Florida. I woke up to find a frog sitting on my face, just staring at me. I screamed so loud the manager came to check if we were being murdered, likely a not unusual occurrence at that particular establishment. My mom found it hilarious, but I've had an aversion to the slimy little creatures ever since.
"Hate is a strong word," Soren replies, reaching out to stroke one finger down the frog's bumpy back. "Familiars choose us for a reason, Rose."
"Can I put it back? Return to sender?"
"Once summoned, a familiar remains connected to you. You can dismiss it temporarily, but it will always return when called, or when it feels like you need it."
"Fantastic."
"Class dismissed," Soren announces. "Practice connecting with your familiars and I’ll see you all next week."
Everyone gathers their things, some still looking my way and snickering. The frog remains obstinately in my hands, occasionally blinking those bulging eyes at me.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" I ask Soren when the others have filed out.
"Bond," he says, leaning against his desk again. "Learn what it has to teach you."
"It's a frog," I say, nonplussed.
"It's a manifestation of your magical self," he corrects. "If you're seeing just a frog, you're not looking closely enough."
I stare down at the amphibian. It stares back, then lets out a croak that sounds a lot like a judgement.
"This is ridiculous," I say. "I spent the night sleeping on a dirty floor looking for Drake, who is still missing, by the way, not that you care. The academy has been taken over. I'm magically bound to a psychopath. And now I have to carry around Kermit here?"
"The familiar isn't a burden, Rose. It's protection. And right now, you need all the protection you can get."
"A frog is going to protect me? From what? Flies?"
"You'd be surprised." His eyes do that silver flash thing again. "Besides, I think it suits you."
"Is that supposed to be an insult?"
“Just an observation." He reaches out, his fingers brushing mine as he touches the frog again. "Frogs transform. They adapt. They survive environments that would kill others." His eyes meet mine. "Sound like anyone you know?"
I pull my hands away, but the frog hops along with them, determined to stay with me. "I have to go."
"Rose." His voice stops me at the door. "About last night."
"Nope," I cut him off. "Don't want to talk about it."
"Fair enough. But I hope I was clear. When you want me, you need only ask."
The arrogance of that statement, the assumption that I will want him, makes me want to throw something heavy and sharp at his head.
Instead, I walk out, frog in hand, fuming all the way back to my room. Because the worst part isn't that he’s assuming I'll want him, eventually.
It's that a part of me already does.
And he knows it.
Six
Rose
My stomach growls so loudly I'm pretty sure they can hear it in the next classroom over. Right on cue, the frog in my hands makes a sympathetic croak. I check the time on my phone and sigh, because I've officially hit that level of hunger where eating becomes non-negotiable, which means I have to brave the dining hall and all the stares that will come with my new green companion.
"You know what?" I tell the frog as we head toward the dining hall. "You're coming with me because I don't know how to dismiss you. But maybe try to be less... uh, froggy? If that's possible."
