The Cultivated Girl

Chapter 3 - Washington DC, USA

The story so far...

Simone wakes up in a hammock in a cave feeling hungover, even though she's sure she didn't drink anything. Or did she? She's attacked by a tentacled monster who actually turns out to be a naked dolphin woman (a Dolketian) called Joli who tells her they are in Sanctuary, on the Isle of BastBula. A stuck-up, nasty girl joins them through a hidden door and Simone is convinced this is a candid camera prank Amira has pulled. When she realises it isn't, she bolts, the pale girl's laughter echoing after her.

Has Simone been kidnapped? And where is Amira? Keep reading to find out more...

In a certain White House, away from prying camera eyes, a woman rubbed her aching temples. A dedicated investigator would have noticed that her appearance coincided with a great many unanticipated acts of god around the world. An obsessed one, say more in the stalker line, would have noticed her behind the scenes in all but one of the recent rises to power of the fairer sex. But for now, the only person keeping track of her movements was about to come online.

"Amira. What can you report? How's Simone?"

"My Lady, I'm afraid she's gone."

"What do you mean - gone." Lady Elizabeth Kjallman's voice was glacial.

"She was upset with you, that you didn't come back. I think she tried the flying potion behind my back."

Elizabeth shook her head, causing chocolate brown curls, so like her daughter's, to escape from her chignon.

"Amira, how could you leave a teenager alone with that? Especially after Jordan. She almost compromised the entire success of that mission."

"My Lady, I can't explain it. The Goddess must have called her. By now she'll be at Sanctuary."

Elizabeth looked at Amira's earnest face on the monitor and sighed. "My poor child. She's still too young for initiation. The training is harsh, so harsh. There's nothing you could have done to prevent it, you're sure?"

"No My Lady," lied Amira. "By the time I realised what she had done, it was too late."

"Very well. Maintain your position with the London coven. She has to make her own way now. The Goddess willing."

"The Goddess willing."

Back in Kensington the apartment no longer hummed. It held its breathe, scandalised, as Amira calmly corked her flying ointment into tiny blue bottles, labelling each with the notation: KENSINGTON HIGH COVEN. She then sent a text that read "Newgrange."

Thanks for the messages. It's great to hear people are enjoying Simone's journey.

Onwards...