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Shivering with both cold and fear, Number Five curled up in the corner of her cell and tried to make herself small, but not too small. If the masked guards thought she was too small — small enough to get through the bars — she'd be put back inside her crate. And while she could adjust the size of her body a little bit, she didn't seem able to shrink down enough for the crate to be comfortable.
Number One seemed to be better at shrinking. The man with the oily voice and odd smell and antlered mask let Number One try out a witch shape a few times, and Number One was bigger than any of the witches and demons Number Five had ever seen. She was big enough that she was starting to outgrow her cell in her natural basilisk form, and the antlered man had promised her a nicer room if she continued to cooperate with his experiments.
Number Five shuddered at the thought. She was glad she was still considered too young for those. They seemed painful — sometimes for the basilisks, and sometimes for other creatures the guards would bring in.
Bad things seemed to happen if you didn't go along with the experiments. Number Two had started protesting sometimes, and Number Five didn't like the noises he made in his cell afterwards.
***
One night, after what sounded like an especially hard day, Number Two tried to escape.
Tried.
***
It was hard to see exactly what was happening — the mirrored wall usually gave her a decent view of Numbers Two's cell, but there were too many guards holding him down. Number Two seemed to be resisting — "Stop moving!" a guard barked —and then there was an awful shriek.
"Now put him in chains," the antlered man instructed. "Let's see if he can wiggle out of these."
Metal clanked against the stone floor, but Number Five could still hear weeping.
"You don't need to do that," Number One said nervously. "I've proven my loyalty."
"Then prove yourself one more time," the antlered man answered. "It won't hurt as much if you stay still."
There weren't as many guards this time, so nothing blocked Number Five's view of the large needle.
Number One hissed as it pierced her, biting her tongue.
"Good girl," the antlered man said softly, and Number One submitted to being shackled.
The guards made their way over to Number Three, then Number Four.
Finally, it was Number Five's turn.
She wasn't sure if it was better or worse for her to know what was coming. Her heart hammered as they held her down, making sure she couldn't move.
Number Five tried to brace herself against the pain, but as the needle pierced her tail she saw spots and everything went dark.
When she woke, she was chained to the walls of her cell.
***
The chains kept them from shifting, but it didn't keep them from draining magic.
Number Five would never forget the sounds of the dying rats.
***
Literal, magical, and metaphorical weights were lifted from Number Five when Number Two removed her chains.
The ring in her tail couldn't be extracted as easily, so she kept it on when she fled. (The plan had been to escape together, but in the end, she wound up alone.)
She examined her once-tail as she shifted, surprised to see no trace of the piercing.
But then she tried to walk on two legs.
The ring wasn't visible, but it was still there, seemingly permanently embedded. In her basilisk form, the wound was long-healed, but sharp pain stabbed her (brand new) foot.
No matter what shape she took, she couldn't seem to escape the mark of her old cell.
***
"Pick up the pace, Noceda!"
Number Five tried, she really did, but the piercing in her tail foot was being especially difficult to ignore that morning. "Sorry, coach! My foot's bothering me a little."
The woman frowned and waved her over. "Did you twist it?"
"No?"
"Blisters?"
That wasn't precisely it, but seemed harmless enough that the camp nurse wouldn't try to look at her foot and possibly find something not entirely human.
"You should've packed better shoes. Let's hope you break those in a little."
Number Five smiled tightly and nodded.
Eventually, either the piercing caused her less trouble or she simply grew used to it. In any case, she soon became one of the fastest runners during the camp's daily morning laps. (She had motivation to stay quick on her feet.) Every so often Vee limped, but at least now she had a ready excuse.
***
Being able to relax into basilisk form at home was an immense relief. Not just because Vee was no longer hiding behind a borrowed face, but because her old piercing was so much easier to bear when she could slither around with the end of her tail up. Camila seemed to prefer it too — these days, she didn't let her eyes linger much on Vee-as-Luz whenever they left the house.
***
"Sweet piercing! I never see that when you look human." Masha leaned against the counter as Vee grabbed drinks and Camila prepped some snacks for their study session.
Vee concealed a grimace. Masha didn't know, of course — no one knew. "It doesn't show up when I look human."
"You couldn't have gone to a piercing salon. Did you do it yourself?"
"It happened in the lab where I was made," she explained quietly. "I…uh…couldn't get it off when I escaped."
And then a bowl dropped, spilling pretzels all over the floor.
Her mom looked stricken. "Sorry! I didn't think to ask about it before. Do you want to keep it, or take it off?"
Vee glanced over at Masha, who looked uncomfortable at having accidentally opened a can of worms.
"I did say it looked cool, but don't keep it on my account!" they tried to backtrack.
"We'll see," Vee said after a beat. "But first we need to ace that Spanish test."
***
Vee helped her mom out at the vet clinic a couple days a week, but this was the first time she was the creature on the exam table.
As a precaution, Camila disabled the security cameras. Hunter and Luz were there both as extra hands and moral support.
Feeling her siblings restrain her felt a little uncomfortably familiar, but she gritted her teeth as their mom carefully removed the last (physical) sign of her captivity.
A few months later, even the scar was mostly healed.
***
Just before the start of Vee's senior year, a new tattoo parlor and piercing salon opened next to her favorite boba shop. (Downtown Gravesfield's only boba shop.)
For a while she avoided that block, but after one too many cancelled dates and study sessions, she forced herself to walk over with Masha one Friday afternoon after midterms.
"Would you ever get a tattoo?" Masha asked, and Vee suppressed a shudder. The Emperor had briefly considered branding them after Number Two's second escape attempt, but ultimately decided he didn't want to risk it becoming public knowledge that he was raising basilisks.
"I don't know what would happen to it if I shifted," Vee hedged, and staved off further conversation by focusing on her taro milk tea with deliciously squishy eyeball lookalikes.
The next day, Luz asked her the same question. "Hunter's gonna get a Flapjack tattoo to cover up his sigil," she explained. "I wanna get a matching one, and thought you might too."
Vee bit her lip. "I'll think about it," she said finally.
Luz deflated a little — she'd probably been hoping for an eager "yes!' — but nodded. "No rush — Mom said we needed to at least graduate from high school first."
As promised, Vee did think about it, and now found herself pausing in front of the jewelry on display at the tattoo parlor whenever she passed by.
If her brother was going to willingly get a new mark on his skin, maybe she could make a choice of her own.
***
"Mom?"
"Yes, sweetheart?" Camila put down her book and patted the spot next to her on the couch.
Vee sat down and rested her head on Mamá's shoulder. "I was thinking about getting a nose piercing."
"Septum, or nostril, or...?"
"Nostril." Septum reminded her slightly too much of being trapped and chained.
"Well, you're eighteen now." She put an arm around Vee and gave her a squeeze. "You don't need my permission."
"I know. I was just wondering… do you think it'll stay when I change?"
Camila stayed silent for a moment, considering the question. "I imagine so. The body parts line up pretty closely. But if you have the same...complications…it should be easier to fix. Might be best not to shift too much while it heals, though."
"That's what I thought."
***
Vee knew she could have asked someone to come with her, but this felt like something she needed to do alone.
This was her decision — hers — and she would see it through on her own.
The professional piercer was gentle and quick, and the pain was easily tolerable. (This time, she would also have proper aftercare.)
Once it was over, the piercer handed her a mirror. "What do think?"
Vee considered her reflection. Basilisk ears hidden in plain sight, (mostly) human eyes, and a ring with a bead on her nose that she picked out herself.
"I like it."