OTHERWORLDLY.
⇱ A R R O W ⇲
━ CHAPTER 2. ━

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"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE going?" Cupid was already making her way down the driveway when Castor's words made her pause.

Exasperated, she turned to him with annoyance, "The car, where else?"

"Dressed like a Muggle?" Castor's expression was one of sour judgement.

Anger flared to life inside Cupid. She would be lying if she said it wasn't tempting to give into the months of hurt and fury that had built up in the place where Castor should have been. Instead, it was filled with turmoil and rot.

Before Cupid could respond to his remark, Castor turned to their Aunt, "Doesn't she have any proper clothes?" The look on his face made her want to destroy something.

It was Cupid herself who had chosen her outfit; a simple look consisting of jeans and a multi-coloured sweater. By no means did she find it deserving of such blatant disgust, especially not from someone as simple as her brother.

Standing in a suit of varying black and greys, he looked like a fool; a boy pretending to be a man. It made her want to laugh, scream, and rage all in the same moment.

Aunt Beth's passive demeanour seemed to crack at his tone, "We didn't exactly have someone to teach us the proper attire, now did we?" She pinned him with a steely look.

Castor immediately pursed his lips; a tell of his annoyance at being so deliberately called out. Cupid felt her mood instantly improve.

Ignoring their Aunt's comment, the elder McLean turned to Cupid so abruptly that she stepped back. "We'll be getting you proper clothes at the house before we leave for Diagon Alley," he spoke in her direction.

Castor followed her down the steps, sparing no further comment to Aunt Beth. But, Cupid remained frozen, even as Castor brushed past her on the way to his car. She was too confused to be annoyed anymore, instead mountains of questions were piling on the tip of her tongue.

The house?

Cupid was hardly aware of her Aunt's presence until she laid a hand on her shoulder. "Listen," Aunt Beth began, kind eyes looking down at the girl she'd raised as her daughter. "I know it's hard, but can you at least try to get along with him. Please."

Cupid was suddenly indignant, "Why should I?"

Aunt Beth gave an amused chuckle, seeming to take Cupid's stubborn nature with good humour. But, after a moment, the expression faded from her features. She knelt down to her niece's height with a sad smile. "Cupid, you're a smart girl. You know, one day there's going to come a time when all you have left is your brother."

Cupid felt her heart drop. She tried to avoid her Aunt's gaze, but her eyes fell on the house of their former neighbour. They swept over the hedges that had been drained of colour; dying with the trees as fall began its descent. The flower beds were either bare or full of shrivelled, dead weeds.

And something inside of Cupid seemed to deflate then, giving into understanding, or maybe to the nausea tormenting her stomach.

"Cupid," her Aunt continued, urging the young girl to pay attention. "It's time you let go of the anger you have, before it becomes hatred."

"Hate is poison and you're bigger than that." Aunt Beth brushed a few stray strands of hair behind Cupid's ear; a comforting gesture.

They both knew how much Cupid would rather avoid these kind of talks; the ones about death and the changes it brought. Her Aunt was always so open to the discussion in a way that the McLean girl could never understand. Cupid figured it was probably a result of having dealt with grief only a widow could know.

But, the mere mention of death made Cupid want to vomit. She hated to imagine a life without the people she loved in it. Again, her eyes cut across the lawn to the vacant, yawning windows of the house next door. Her stomach gave another turn.

She wanted to end this conversation, regardless of whether or not it meant getting into a car with Castor.

Cupid let go of the breath she'd been holding in. "Okay," she agreed, with more than a little reluctance. This hadn't been the way she imagined her day going; the day meant to mark a change in her life. But, given the sudden appearance of her brother, Cupid didn't think it had been off to a very good start anyway.

Aunt Beth smiled, shrugging off the small bag that she'd been carrying. "You don't want to forget this. Your list of supplies is inside." The pair startled at the honk of a horn, reminding them that Castor was still waiting.

Cupid scowled at him, but it softened into a frown as her Aunt gave her a pointed look. Taking the bag, the brunette turned and made for the car, figuring that the conversation was over. Though, Cupid turned as her name was called.

Aunt Beth grinned down at her from the porch, "Don't forget to have fun, okay? Never mind what Castor says." Cupid grinned at that before getting into the passenger seat of the car.

No matter what, she promised herself as they pulled out of the driveway and her Aunt's form faded from view, Castor won't ruin this for me.

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The silence was suffocating.

Cupid wished she'd made the smart choice and sat in the backseat instead. In the face of her brother's calm and collected nature, the McLean girl felt like a fumbling child. It annoyed her how fine he seemed with the poor state of their relationship.

He played well at being untouchable.

Cupid reached over to turn on the radio, desperate to fill the dead air. But she pulled back as Castor went to stop her. "Don't touch," he said with a pointed glance.

Cupid curled her lip with irritation and turned away. It took everything within her to bite back a spiteful remark. Another long moment of silence passed.

"I noticed the neighbours are gone. Done anything you shouldn't have?" Castor's voice was taunting and a chill slithered its way down Cupid's spine. Her throat constricted, but she refused to tense.

If it were anyone else, the question could have passed as innocent curiosity. But, not with Castor and his poorly masked suspicion. Cupid suddenly wished the car had stayed silent.

When she said nothing, Castor spared her a glance. But, how was she supposed to respond without letting her anger get to her? She gave a defeated sigh.

"I haven't done anything," she finally replied. "Mr. Parker died and his son moved away." Cupid turned to watch the passing houses as they left the comfort of her familiar neighbourhood.

In the space where someone's reply would have been, "I'm sorry for your loss," Cupid was met with more silence. She couldn't exactly blame him. Castor had been gone for so long, how could he have possibly known that the mud and dirt of Mr. Parker's flowerbeds had become a place of comfort for her?

His garden had been an escape from the guilt left by her brother's absence.

After Cupid's attempted theft, Aunt Beth had forced her niece to apologize as soon as Mr. Parker arrived home. To both him and his son. Mr. Parker was scolding at first, but he laughed upon hearing that Cupid had managed to slip through the fingers of a grown man.

Though, Eric was more than a little confused by the whole ordeal himself.

Afterwards, Mr. Parker enlisted the help of Cupid to replant the roses she'd ripped from their stems. She could have made an excuse to avoid further discomfort, but Cupid's guilty conscience told her it was best to just agree.

She'd done so much wrong. It was the least she could do, and surprisingly enough, after that first day of dirt and staring sun-bathing flowers in the face, Mr. Parker had told her she could visit his garden anytime. As long as she took care of the plants and respected their beauty at a distance, he had no problem with it.

Cupid thanked him, but she doubted that she would return.

However, in the weeks following when the loneliness of the empty spot at the table seemed to weigh on her, Cupid found herself needing an escape. A distraction from the truth; being that she had driven a deep wedge between her and the last of her blood.

Castor hadn't even bothered to retrieve his belongings from the spare bedroom. A stranger had shown up and had taken care of the rest. When they were done, it seemed that only the memory of him remained and that stung even worse.

She could still remember coming home from school to watch as they took the last of his things away. She didn't want to admit it, but it hurt. Watching as Castor's room— the room that had always been his— was emptied made her realize that she'd lost her brother for good.

How serious was this to him? What was she missing? Why did it sting?

Cupid ran from the house, leaping over their picket fence with ease and into the awaiting comfort of Mr. Parker's yard. She, Eric, and Mr. Parker had just finished building a greenhouse that summer and the warm, humid air that greeted her was a comfort. The door slammed behind her, but Cupid didn't care if Mr. Parker knew she was there.

The McLean girl took deep breaths as she tried to hold back the tears. Finding a corner, she sat down and pulled her knees to her chest as she tried to figure out where things went so wrong. As much as she hated to admit it, she didn't want Castor to be gone forever. She wanted there to be a way to fix things, so that maybe it didn't have to feel like she'd ruined their family for good.

Cupid sat in the greenhouse for what felt like hours until she could gather the energy to lift herself from the floor. By then her head ached and her eyes were tired, but she still couldn't bring herself to go home. She was grateful for the privacy to dry her own tears.

Cupid wiped her face off on the back of her sleeves before getting started on the greenhouse chores that Mr. Parker had yet to do. Some plants needed to be trimmed, while others needed to be repotted altogether. She could have stayed in the greenhouse for hours without pause, because if she went home, it meant being reminded of all the things she couldn't fix.

Even to present day, Cupid felt that weight bearing down on her.

The only issue was that the McLean girl wasn't sure if it was still her responsibility to fix everything. At least, not anymore. Of course, she still felt at fault. But, wasn't this a two-way street?

Cupid furrowed her brow and closed her eyes, drifting off into a fitful sleep of wonder and confusion. She was too exhausted by her own mind to fight the way her conscious seeped into slumber. With anxiety fading into the background, she found that all her worries were forgotten.

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  She was gaping now.

  Cupid found herself staring up in awe, completely astounded by the massive building in front of her. It was large and frightening. The mansion hovered over the grounds, as if it had come from a horror story of hauntings and creaking floorboards.

  And it was beautiful.

  The colour scheme was a variety of blacks and greys. It fit Castor so well, that Cupid abandoned her awe for contempt. She felt herself turn her nose up at the building.

  "Come on, we don't have all day," Castor said as he closed the car door. Cupid repeated his words with mock before following after him.

  She stepped out of the vehicle, gravel crunching under her feet. Castor didn't wait, heading up the steps to where huge, wooden doors opened of their own accord. From where she stood, Cupid couldn't see what lay ahead.

Curiosity got the best of her eventually, and the McLean girl found herself wandering through the open entrance. The interior was dark, with wooden furniture upholstered in green velvet. It was the only colour to be seen anywhere.

The drawing room was to the left. Inside were more lush greens, accented with black, and more dark wood. Further down, there was a tea room, a dining room, and a sun room.

Though, the most familiar doors were the ones that were locked and shut tightly. Cupid had known isolation for many, many years. Castor had made sure of it.

  Cupid stared up at the black, double doors in front of her. She was by the staircase, next to the room at the farthest end of the hall. The paint was peeling on the door, and it's handle was brass and also locked.

  "Get away from there."

  Cupid jumped, whirling around to face Castor. He was watching her with suspicion, and the young girl scowled at him. It's not like he had given her a tour of the place, never-mind just mentioning it.

  "There's a dressing room on the second floor. Third door on the left." Castor gave her a wry smile, "I'm sure I don't have to hold your hand on the way up."

  Cupid glared at him, "I'd rather choke." She turned on her heel, launching herself up the stairs before her brother could reply. She heard Castor scoff as she disappeared onto the floor above.

  As she arrived, Cupid paused to stare at the paintings. They lined nearly every inch of spare space on the walls. But, that wasn't the thing that awed her.

  The pictures were moving; watching her as she passed and stared in wonder. Cupid giggled as a lady smiled down at her, bowing to the McLean girl in her gown. She was beautiful, in a regal sort of way.

  Cupid came to the third door on the left and entered. She didn't have much time before both her and Castor had to be at the train station. She longed to explore this strange place, but she was far more excited to begin her first year at Hogwarts.

As she entered, the young McLean immediately noted the pile of clothes next to the door. They were laid out in order of what she should put on first. There was a blouse, a tie, a sweater, a skirt, a robe, and socks. No shoes. Castor must have figured Cupid's black flats suited the occasion well enough.

When she was done, Cupid found herself staring distastefully in the mirror. The lack of colour made her wary. She wasn't quite sure how she would fit in at Hogwarts, with a uniform so plain. It simply wasn't her.

For Castor, who was dull through and through, it must have been perfect.

However, Cupid was a vastly different person from her brother. She longed for signs of life in the things she adorned herself with. Colour and clothes were the one thing she could seek comfort in.

The colour of flowers, the colour of shoes, the colour of her nails after begging her aunt to paint them for hours.

Reluctantly, Cupid resigned herself to the simple truth; she was going to Hogwarts lacking in everything she wished to express.

  She sighed, leaving the dressing room with her shoulders sinking. The last thing she wanted was to resemble Castor McLean. They may have shared a last name, but blood relations clearly meant nothing to him.

Cupid paused as she came to the first floor, her eyes caught on the doors once again. With her mood now soured by her brother, Cupid decided that respecting his wishes was no longer important.

  Or, at the very least, it was not as important as her desire to spite.

Cupid McLean stared hard at the locked, brass handle. When she heard metal sliding out of place, she knew her intention had been met. Without hesitation, the brunette slid quickly behind the door and let it close softly.

The first act had begun.

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AN: Welcome (back), new and old readers. I've finally conjured up the will to write the next chapter for this story, following a very long and tiring year. Please bare with me, and be patient as I try to update when I can. Thank you for reading!