by Libba Bray
“You want me to kill him for you?” Theta asked Ling. “I got firepower.”
But Ling’s thoughts were on solutions. “I don’t know how long we can keep it up. I don’t know how long our bodies can withstand the damage the Eye inflicts. Pretty soon, we’re going to end up like the others,” she warned.
Memphis wiggled his fingers. They itched and prickled with something new. He touched his right hand to one of the dead trees, concentrating very hard. Two tiny green shoots poked out from the end of the branch.
“It’s coming back!” Theta said excitedly.
“Why is it doing that?” Ling asked.
“I don’t know,” Memphis said, staring at his hand, which felt strange but not unwelcome. Something was happening to him. Something he could not explain. But then, as fast as they’d sprouted, the new green vines shriveled in on themselves and turned the same gray as everything else.
“Not enough,” Ling said. “We need all his strength.”
“But that’s a good sign, isn’t it?” Evie asked.
“Probably another one of the King of Crows’s little tricks,” Sam said.
“We don’t know that. We don’t know anything about this world or how it works,” Jericho said.
“There’s a memory to everything. You just have to listen.” Evie put her hand to the cracked ground, but its story was as barren as the trees, just the slightest residue of history being sucked up and devoured by the King of Crows. But something did catch. She could read small bits of a life still beating here, and it belonged to Adelaide Proctor.
“Theta, Miss Addie is here.”
“Where? Can you find her?”
“You know who’s great at finding people?” Henry jerked his thumb at Ling.
“If I have an object of theirs,” Ling said in apology.
“What about the memory of an object?” Evie asked.
“As a good man once said, ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio—’”
An irritated Ling interrupted Jericho. “Who is Horatio? Why are we talking about Horatio? We’re trying to solve a problem here.” Ling turned to Evie. “All right. Let’s try.”
Evie stooped and put a hand to the ground. Ling went to touch Evie.
“I don’t think you’ll have to,” Evie said. “We’re all connected. Remember?”
Ling nodded. She shut her eyes, concentrating. Evie felt Ling’s power joining to hers as well as Theta’s loving attachment to Miss Addie, and in a few seconds Evie saw a white clapboard church nestled deep in the dark wood. Miss Addie was inside that church, she knew.
“Somewhere over there,” Ling said, opening her eyes. She pointed to a gnarled forest under a yellow moon.
“Yes,” Evie and Theta both said.
“We don’t have much time,” Sam reminded them.
Memphis sagged against Jericho, who held him up. It was clear that Memphis was still deeply unwell. The show with the vines had been promising, but it might mean nothing.
“I want to take him down,” Memphis said and coughed.
“Marlowe?” Jericho asked.
“The King of Crows. For all he’s done.”
“I understand, Memphis,” Jericho said. “But we can’t do everything. We need your strength. We have to heal the rift.”
“And destroy the Eye,” Evie said. “I won’t have my brother trapped for eternity.”
“Baby Vamp—” Sam started. Evie cut him off.
“I won’t!”
“The King of Crows took my mother and my brother from me,” Memphis said.
“Are we going to argue about whose mission is most important?” Henry asked. “Either we do all of it or none of it.”
“I vote for only fixing the breach,” Jericho said.
“I won’t leave my brother to suffer,” Evie said.
“I won’t leave my mother at the mercy of the King,” Memphis said.
“Looks like we do all of it,” Theta said.
“We have to wait for Memphis’s power to regenerate,” Ling said.
“If it does,” Sam said.
Memphis touched the tree again. This time, only one vine emerged, and then, as before, it died.
“Stop doing that!” Ling reprimanded him. “You have to save your energy.”
Nearby, several of the dead sniffed again and growled low.
“Miss Addie. Now,” Theta said.
“I’m going with you,” Evie said.
“Be quick about it, Baby Vamp,” Sam said and kissed her.
Evie and Theta set off in pursuit of Miss Addie.
“Careful,” Theta whispered as she and Evie passed among the many dead. Their rotting bodies were so close. Theta had to stifle the urge to scream. She was relieved when they came out on the other side of the sniffing, grunting horde.
The grating, mechanical noise of the Eye grew louder. Their journey was bringing them closer to it. There, suddenly, was the clearing Evie had seen so many times in her dreams, a version of it, at least, with the missing Unit 144 going about their looping existence. And there was her brother. There was James. Alive.
“James? James, it’s me. It’s Evie.” She left Theta’s side and ran toward the field.
“Say, what’s this mission the department’s got us on, anyway?” James asked another soldier.
“Beats me. S’posed to help us win the war and show those Germans who’s boss,” another soldier answered. “Say, O’Neill, what card am I holding?”
Without looking, James answered, “The eight of hearts.”
“Son-of-a-bitch! Right every time!”
“James,” Evie said. For years, she had longed to see him again, to hug him, talk with him. He was so close. She could reach out and touch him. But she would only be holding a memory, she realized now, with great sadness. She would only be touching a ghost.
“Evil,” Theta said gently.
“I know,” Evie said. She took Theta’s hand instead, and side by side, they marched toward the skeletal forest.
Evie and Theta crawled over thick brambles that poked and tore at them. Theta’s foot came down on something that gave with a squish.
“When we get back, I’m gonna scream for a whole day,” she said.
“Just keep going,” Evie said, trying to ignore the red-eyed vultures perched on the tops of gnarled trees.
Theta pushed aside a cluster of thorny twigs, and there it was: the white clapboard church under a yellow moon.
“I think this is from Miss Addie’s memory,” Theta said. “She wrote about this church in her diary. It’s where they buried Elijah. Where they were supposed to marry.”
Thick branches encased the church like a cage. Its walls bowed in, splintering from the trees’ tightening grasp.
“We have to hurry,” Evie said.
Evie and Theta climbed the church steps and let themselves inside. The place had the feel of memory, too. Its existence was unreliable. One minute, there were ten pews; the next, there was only one. The pew had three blue hymnals stacked at the end, then they were all gone. Evie feared that if Addie stopped dreaming of this church, it would go up in smoke, and Evie and Theta with it.
An enormous oak had pierced the front of the church. Its muscular branches embraced Adelaide Proctor, holding her fast. They could see the pointed end of one poised above Miss Addie’s heart, ready to impale her if she moved.
“Miss Addie?” Theta said into the dark. At the sound of Theta’s voice, sun began to filter along the sides of the church through long, tall windows that had not been there before.
“Theta?” Miss Addie said on a thinning rasp.
“It’s me, Miss Addie. I’m here.”
“Theta, you… you must defeat him.”
“We’re trying, but we don’t have much time. We need your help.”
“If you destroy him, you destroy it all. He is the key,” Miss Addie said with great effort.
“So Sarah Beth wasn’t lying about that part,” Evie whispered to Theta.
“That’s why we’re here. Just tell us how.”
“You must perform a spell.”
“No, Miss Addie. I told you, I’m not a witch. I tried to bind Elijah and just made it worse.”
“But you are!”
“You’re the witch, Miss Addie. I’m a dancer who sometimes catches things on fire. We all have our gifts. I gotta learn to use mine. Okay?”
The trees roared. The church walls buckled from the pressure. The branch tip pressed against Miss Addie’s chest and she cried out.
“Memory, memory, memory,” Evie murmured, thinking. Her head snapped up. “What was this church to you, Miss Addie? What is its significance?”
“It was the place where we buried our dead,” Miss Addie said after a moment. “Elijah. My mother and two brothers. It was here that I realized fully what I had done. And now it is where he has me trapped. If I try to move away from it, it will come for me, and I shall be pierced through the heart.”
“She’s trapped herself here,” Evie said to Theta. “She’s built a prison from her guilt.”
Theta thought of Miss Addie wandering the halls of the Bennington, spreading salt in the hopes that she could protect everyone from some unnamed evil. But she’d also been trying to protect herself from her own regret and loss.
“Miss Addie. You can leave this place. You don’t have to stay,” Theta said to the older woman.
“But Elijah…”
“Elijah’s gone. He’s not coming back. And I’m pretty sure the Elijah you loved wouldn’t want you to keep suffering forever for what you did.”
“I never should’ve done it.”
“Time to let it go,” Theta said.
“How?”
Theta’s hands glowed orange. “Sometimes you just gotta burn something down so you can build something else in its place.”
The trees groaned in protest and squeezed, refusing to let go. A rafter fell and smashed a pew. The church would be crushed and Evie and Theta with it. But Theta Knight did not waver.
“Go on. Make yourself a new story, Miss Addie,” she said as her hands filled with cleansing fire.
Miss Addie nodded. “Burn it down, my dear.”
Theta put her hand to the side of the crumbling church, and instead of fire, light poured in through the windows, filling the room. The trees vanished. No cage held Miss Addie any longer. Instead, she was in her bed at the Bennington, sleeping peacefully, Miss Lillian beside her. Miss Addie’s final dream and memory was of the lifelong bond she’d shared with her sister and the home where she had chosen to make her life. The light grew so bright that Evie and Theta had to shut their eyes, and when they opened them again, the church, the bed, and Miss Addie were gone. Only the light remained, and even it was fading until there was nothing but forest again.
Evie hugged Theta. “You did it, Theta. You did Miss Addie proud.”
Theta sniffled. “Yeah? Then why do I feel so lousy?” She wiped her eyes. “C’mon. Let’s get back to the others. I just wanna finish this and get outta here.”
But when they turned to flee, the woods were filled with the dead, and at the front of the feral pack was Mabel Rose. She stared straight ahead at Evie. And Evie realized how foolish she’d been to think that Sam’s power could shield her from this. Just as in life, her friend saw right through her.
Mabel sniffed. Her lips curled back from sharp teeth. “Evie.”
Theta readied her hands, but Evie waved her off. “Please, Theta.”
Atop thinning, red-gold hair, Mabel wore Evie’s rhinestone headband, its luster dulled by grave dirt. Worms had made a home in the beautiful yellow dress, which was now dotted with holes. This was Mabel. Not the illusion conjured in Gideon. And Evie understood: Mabel Rose was really gone. She was dead and deserved rest, and Evie had to let go.
“Yes, it’s me, Mabesie,” Evie called. She felt the ache in her side. Would always feel the ache.
“You brought me back,” Mabel snarled. “It’s your fault.”
“Yes, I did. It’s my fault. And I’m so, so sorry, Mabesie. Truly I am.”
“Why did you bring me back?” Mabel whimpered.
“I was wrong to do it. But you are not this person, Mabel Rose.” Evie walked toward Mabel. “Remember how selfish you thought I was?”
Mabel’s eyes were deep and dark. Evie could lose herself in them. She sensed Theta following behind her, those hands ready, if it came to it. Evie glanced back and shook her head, and Theta nodded.
“You were selfish. You are selfish,” Mabel said in her dead voice.
“Yes. I am selfish. I’m a selfish, attention-seeking, pigheaded, lonely girl. But not all the time. You were good. But not all the time. You were also jealous and secretive, and boy, could you hold a grudge. You expected people to notice you, and when they didn’t, you got mad. And you wanted to be important. Who doesn’t? I should have let you be all those things instead of just the ones I wanted you to be. The ones that made you fit more easily into my life.” We are so many stories, Evie thought.
Mabel’s nostrils flared. She was inhaling Evie’s scent. “I hunger, Evie.”
Evie stood right in front of her dead friend and willed herself not to run. “Everybody does, Mabesie. But did you, do you, know how much I love you?”
“I…” Mabel faltered. Her eyes shimmered from black to brown, back and forth. “I tried to stop Arthur from planting the bomb. I tried to stop it.”
“Of course you did.” Evie smiled through tears.
“I died trying.”
“I knew. Somehow, I knew. Mabel, you can still do good. Do you want to help us stop this explosion?”
Mabel’s struggle showed in her eyes, now brown but always on the verge of turning. “How?”
“We need to get through those trees and back to the others. To our friends. Your friends. Sam and Memphis and Ling and Henry and Jericho.”
“Jericho…” Mabel said. “He did not love me like I loved him.”
“Well, he never was terribly bright, was he?” Evie said, managing a laugh. She saw the faintest hint of a smile on Mabel’s lips, before it disappeared.
Mabel looked toward the trees. “I will go with you.”
“What does that mean?” Theta asked.
When Mabel turned, the dead did as well. One mind. All connected. She led Evie and Theta through the dark wood, past the snakes and lizards and two-headed frogs and diseased vines choking the life out of anything that tried to grow from the blighted land.
As they neared the edge of the wood, when the way was nearly clear, Evie felt newly afraid. Mabel and her retinue of the dead stood between Theta and Evie and the way out. What if Mabel changed her mind? What if she couldn’t let go of her fury at Evie after all? What if this hope that Evie was clinging to, that there was still a spark of humanity left in Mabel’s heart, was but one more illusion?
They’d reached the end of the woods. Mabel stepped to the side to let them pass. The dead followed suit, and as much as Evie wanted to run back to Sam, she was also sad to say good-bye.
“Evie?” Mabel said, almost sweetly.
“Yes, Pie Face?”
“I’m so tired. I want to rest now. Can you help me rest?”
Mabel and James had been Evie’s ghosts in more ways than one. It was time to let Mabel Rose, all of her, rest in peace.
“Do you remember how we used to lie in your bed and talk half the night until we finally fell asleep, Mabesie?”
Mabel nodded slowly. Evie could see that she was trying to remember.
“It’s just like that.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll just… talk.”
“Okay.” Mabel nodded. “Okay.”
“Do you remember the time we sneaked out through the window to go see Theta in the Follies and you got so drunk, Mabel? Pos-i-tutely blotto. I had to help peel that terrible boy off of you, and you threw up all over Washington Square Park! You
r mother had absolute kittens. She forbade you from seeing me. But we got around her. We always did.”
A tiny smile played at Mabel’s lips. “Yes. Yes, I remember.…”
“We remember,” the dead echoed.
“How about when you almost bobbed your hair? Theta and I made a bet about it. You sat in the barber’s chair, and oh, I could feel your terror when he brought out those scissors and you said, ‘Nope!’ and ran out to us on the sidewalk and we laughed and laughed about it afterward. I lost that bet, by the way. I really thought you’d go through with it.”
Mabel was growing fainter by degrees. “So many stories.”
“Yes.” Evie swallowed hard. “And do you remember when I went to Naughty John’s house? Who went with me? You. You were so brave. I never would’ve been able to do that without you, Mabesie.”
“That’s all we are in the end. Stories.” Fainter and fainter. “Will you remember me fondly?”
“Always.”
“Evie. I’m tired.” Fainter still.
“Then rest, Mabel Rose.”
And then, like a firefly realizing morning has come, Mabel Rose winked out of existence and became a memory.
ONE CHANGE
“Sam!” Evie shouted, running toward him with Theta just behind.
“Did you find her?”
“Yes, and Mabel, too,” Evie said.
“Miss Addie said if we can take out the King of Crows, we can get rid of his dead. Seems Sarah Beth was right about that,” Theta said.
On the horizon, the breach gave another birthing moan.
“It’s getting bigger,” Memphis said with alarm. How could he possibly close such a wound?
“Don’t look now, but we got company,” Sam said.
Through the broken trees, across the salted land, the King of Crows strode toward the rest of the Diviners. Behind him the dead followed blindly, sniffing, always hungry. In the multitude was Gabe, Memphis saw.
“What a surprise. I don’t usually get visitors here. Well, live ones, at least,” he said. “But I’m not here for you. Yet.”
The King of Crows turned his attention toward the breach. There was a high-pitched mechanical whine, different from the noise the Eye emitted. The whine grew louder as the first battalion of fighter planes approached the threshold of the breach. The King of Crows watched, unconcerned, as the first dozen planes sailed through the breach and skittered to a stop in the clearing. A second wave was nearing the breach.