Chapter 1: Chapter 1 – My Cute Alien Girlfriend

"So Hazel, are you going anywhere for the holidays?"

"Not home, obviously," I laugh, and get an awkward laugh back from Madison in return. People never really seem to know how to react to my family situation - mom died during the invasion from an orbital strike and dad was an alcoholic who drank away the victim's benefits - and I always got an uncomfortable mix of pity or sympathy for it as a kid. So when I moved for university, I just started telling people they ran away to join one of those rifter circus cults. That way, at least their weird reactions would be entertaining. "How about you?"

Her eyes practically sparkle with excitement, and I immediately recognize I've been had. "Oh, I'm super excited! My cousin is going to be having a bonfire this year. I've mentioned him before, the gay farmer? It's going to be totally friendly, so you and Sylvie can both come together! Oh, and his fiancé is a licensed warlock, so the whole place is totally up to code warded and everything. Plus, they do this cool rainbow fire thing, it's gonna be great!"

Damn, that sounds like a lot of fun actually. Alas, duty always comes first. "Sorry, pretty sure I'm going to be working that night."

"I haven't even told you what night it's on!"

"Maddy. Maddy, please. It's a Samhain party." This earns me a light-hearted middle finger from my classmate, which I count as a success. "And the whole season is one of the busiest seasons in support, you know? It's like our Midwinter. You get Grandma Gertrude on the line calling in, saying she thinks her toaster is haunted, and asking if 12-gauge cold iron will be enough firepower. Like, ma'am, first of all, it's just a toaster, you can unplug it. Second of all, I can't tell you if cold iron will work yet, we need to go through the checklist to figure out if it's a haunting, possession, xenoware or just a bad update." 

Maddy laughs. And so does the maple tree.

My eyes snap upwards, peering through the gaps in the foliage left by falling leaves. There, a telltale glimpse of pink between the reds and oranges. An ambush, here? I brace myself, and just in time, as a blur breaks through the canopy. 

Arms wrap tightly around my neck as I grab my assailant around the ribs, absorbing the impact and spinning around to disperse the excess momentum. I make sure to tickle her a bit for good measure too, earning a squeal.

"Hey! No tickling! Not allowed!"

I shut her up with a kiss as we spin down, before gently setting her down onto the ground.

"You two are so fucking extra, gods," Maddy says. "You're going to break your leg one of these days, and then what'll you do about your scholarship?"

Sylvie and I lock eyes for just a moment and smile, clearly both thinking the same thing. Fuck, she's cute. I have the best girlfriend ever.

"Don't worry! That's why I've got Hazel to cushion my fall!" she replies to Maddy, giving me another quick peck on the lips.

"Yeah, it's me you need to be worried about! She's heavier than she looks!"

"Hey!" I allow her to playfully punch me in the arm. Obviously playful, of course, because it didn't break the sound barrier. "It's not my fault I'm like, 120% muscle. I'm just built different."

"Yeah, sure." Madison has dealt with enough of our couples nonsense to take it in stride. "Now help me talk your girlfriend into taking a day off so you two can come to my cousin's Samhain party."

"Sorry, no can do. I have a qualifying competition the day before, so I'll be out of town. Make sure you send us plenty of pictures though!"

"Shame. Can do on the pictures though."

"Yay! Oh! Before I steal my Hazel from you..." Sylvie rummages around in her purse for a moment to pull out a small plastic bag. "I found some of that horrible black liquorice you like that matches your eyeshadow."

Maddy catches Sylvie's overhand toss easily, immediately ripping the bag open to pop one in her mouth. "You're the best, babe! I guess I'll let you off the hook this time. Next year, okay?"

"We'll do our best!" I promise, squeezing Sylvie's hand. And sure, I did plan to try... but it'd been years since we'd gotten to enjoy Samhain without spending all day fighting. Rift incursions, restless undead, frat party demonic summonings, dormant alien war machines awoken by the fireworks... Ah well. At least being a magical girl pays the bills. 

Not to mention it makes for some fantastic date nights. 

 

---

 

I hurl myself to the ground just in time. The gout of acrid chemical fire arcs just over my head, choking me with scalding sulphurous fumes. I shut my eyes against the heat and light and hold my breath, waiting just long enough to hear it burst against the concrete behind me before leaping sideways.

"Frost Invocation: Flash Freeze!" I call out to the Asterism, channelling my magic. My success is heralded by the telltale chime and appearance of the magical diagram behind my back. In a flash of cyan light, the temperature of the empty building drops well below freezing, accompanied by a surge of freezing mist which coats every exposed surface with a slippery sheet of black ice. Fortunately, it also extinguished the pool of liquid flame, which had begun eating a hole into the concrete, before the damage could spread.

Back when I first got this gig, after I did all the initiation rituals and blood pact and everything, I finally got let in on all the trade secrets. I had so many questions, of course, but the first one was apparently a common one. Namely: why do magical girls always call out their attacks?

Turns out that was a complicated question with multiple answers. Firstly, the witch coven who became the first magical girls, the legendary founders who tapped into the primal forces of reality and built the absurdly powerful sapient interdimensional magical focus known as the Asterism, arguably the most dangerous magical superweapon in all known realities... were all in their tweens at the time, and the Asterism inherited their pre-teen aesthetic preferences and sensibilities.

Which, honestly, explained pretty much all of my other questions.

Secondly, by the time anyone actually figured out how to update the Asterism, all the silly pageantry had become a beloved tradition. It was adorable and innocent, and added some much needed levity to a brutal and traumatic profession.

And finally, they'd come to realise pretty quickly that while they could probably convince the Asterism to lift the restrictions sealing all the advanced spells behind the inconveniences of transformation sequences and incantations, in practice, it would be a terrible idea. My mentor likened it to a gun without a safety, a gun which could level entire cities with pink sparkles. Message received, loud and clear.

Right now, though? Being stalked by a ferocious alien bioweapon? The frilly gloves were most certainly on.

In the glow of the fading magical circle, I catch a sliver of light through the icy mist, the unmistakable glint of eyeshine from one of the alien's numerous retro reflective eyes. I accelerate backwards as the alien pounces, monofilament biometal claws cleaving through the air where I had just been. 

It becomes immediately clear that treacherous ice from my spell did nothing to impair its movements. Quite the opposite, in fact. The tips of its scythe-like legs glide effortlessly across the frozen surface. Then suddenly, it digs the blades into the ice, whipping around a column in a high speed turn before leaping at me once more. 

I manage to dodge it, but only barely.

It's the follow up that gets me: a hairpin turn around a pillar directly into a spinning jump, auxiliary limbs unfolding into a whirlwind of blades which catches me entirely off-guard. In a fraction of a second, I get brief first-hand experience being centrifuged before I get thrown through the frozen concrete and down onto the ground floor of the building.

Pinned beneath its weight, I can't breathe in enough for another spell. Helpless, unable to dislodge its weight no matter how much I struggle, I can do nothing but watch as it unfolds its venomous mandibles and gives me a kiss on the forehead. 

"Really, baby, an ice spell? Against me?" Sylvie asks, rumbling with delight as she picks concrete chunks from my hair.

"It was your turn to win, wasn't it? I knew what I was getting myself into." She shifts her weight just enough for me to breathe, and I take the opportunity to lean up and kiss one of her antennae, earning me an adorable squeal.

"Eee! Watch it, you little brat!"

"Oh, I promise, I'm watching everything," I reply, looking her up and down lasciviously. While her combat form might not be conventionally attractive to normal folk (read: cowards), I loved every last inch of her in any form, from her magic resistant carapace to her dorsal cannons. 

"Keep going and I'll have to web you up," she teases, winking all the eyes on the left side of her body. 

"Don't threaten me with a good time," I retort, making another attempt to kiss the antennae dangling in front of my face. 

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She smiles and leans down, and my vision is swallowed by blinding, cherenkov blue.

I can't see a thing.

Rough hands take my wrists, pulling me to my feet.

"It's alright now, Miss. You're safe now."

...

"Don't worry, we got the bugger."

"Good thing we were running field tests in the area, it almost got you!"

...

"Poor girl's clearly shell shocked. Are you hurt? Can you tell me your professional name or number?"

My eyes hurt.

I reach up towards my face.

"-aid it uses some special xenotech frequency shatter their shells, then the beam ricochets around inside-"

My hand comes away sticky and wet.

I open my eyes.

"Miss? Your name?"

My skin is drenched.

"-rget neutralised, 2357 hours local-"

Caustic, ochre blood drips down my face.

From my hands.

"It's okay, it can't hurt you anymore."

Sylvie.

I scream.

It's not a proper incantation.

It doesn't matter.

My intentions are clear.

The Asterism understands.

It answers.

A pillar of sparkles and atomic fire falls upon me, to burn the nightmare away.

 

---

 

I awaken as the sun crests the edge of the crater.

Numbly, I stagger upright, breaking free of the shell of volcanic glass. Remember I can fly. Puppet my body over the ridge.

There's pieces of wreckage littering the ground. One of the larger pieces of debris, a mangled piece of sheet metal, has half of a military seal on it.

No sign of the men. They must have been vapourized in the blast. Good. They deserve it, for taking my Sylvie away.

They'll pay. I'll make them pay. Every last one of the bastards responsible for this. Someone had to have sent them out here. Somebody made the weapon. Somebody did the research. Someone tightened the screws. Each and every one them, I'll find them and-

A twinge of pain from my side disrupts my concentration, and I fall to the ground in a heap.

Did I get hit by the beam, somehow? Or did one of her claws...

I press my hand to my side.

The flesh moves beneath my hand.

Instincts kicking in, I grab the lacy fabric of my ruffled sleeve and tear, ripping it from shoulder to waist.

There, on my side, just below my ribs. A patch of discoloured skin, and one single beautiful retro-reflective eye staring back up at me.

"S-sylvie?!"

The eye, very deliberately, blinks twice.

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