by Ashia Monet
She bursts out of the van, leaves splashing under her sneakers. The Krubim are a living gust of wind against the sky. They travel in a wobbly, curving line, like a giant snake slithering through the trees, the tail end lagging slightly behind.
“Blythe, wait!” Antonio shouts. Blythe ignores him. And she runs.
Grass crunches beneath her. Her breath escapes in loud puffs. She is moving faster than she ever has before. Despite all her noise, the Krubim never look down at her. They shoot forward, ever forward.
I am going to find Whiteclaw, Blythe thinks. I will save my family. And he will regret what he did to us.
The front of the Krubim’s line drops toward the ground like a black waterfall. They are flying toward someone, but it isn’t Whiteclaw. It’s a woman.
Her back is turned, palm raised above her head. The Krubim disintegrate into her hand, their figures morphing into black liquid and swirls of darkness that her skin ingests. Black veins snake up her wrists, like ink flowing beneath her caramel skin.
Blythe slows to a stop. She has never seen Learned Magic used like this. Making drinks in the Full Cup was one thing, but this? This is the aspect of Learned Magic that made people wary.
And this woman—with her beige mini dress with long, billowing sleeves and her lax, high bun—she isn’t supposed to be here. Blythe came for Whiteclaw. If he isn’t here, why should Blythe bother?
Blythe checks the ground for twigs before she leaves. What if she breaks one and calls the woman’s attention? That always happens in movies. But there are no twigs to be found, so Blythe starts back.
Her foot catches on a rock.
On her way to the ground, Blythe ponders what a cruel mistress fate is.
The moment she hits the grass, she instantly looks back at the woman—who is staring right at Blythe.
Something about the curve of the woman’s face is familiar. Her expression hardens and her eyes turn black with magic. She lowers her skyward hand to point a single finger straight at Blythe.
A wave of Krubim explode from her fingertip in a mass of snapping teeth and echoing black cloaks. Yeah, Blythe thinks. I really goofed this one up.
The creatures hit Blythe like a living wall. Claws tear her skin. Dark cloaks and wrinkled yellow faces swarm her vision.
Every inhale brings the stench of decay into her lungs. She tries to kick or move her arms but their spindly bodies pin her body to the dirt.
The ground rumbles against her back. Something explodes from the ground beside her. It is as thick as a table, shooting up and taking a whole slew of Krubim out with it. And near her legs emerges another, and a third by her arms.
They are vines.
Like something out of a fairy tale, they rise, large enough to crush cars in their grip, snatching the Krubim from her body.
These things have come from nowhere. Blythe is the Guardian of Ether—and Ether has nothing to do with vines.
Blythe tilts her head back. Behind her stands Antonio, Cordelia, and Daniel—Antonio’s wings have sprouted from his back and Cordelia stares the woman down.
But Daniel’s expression is the only one of pure shock. “I-I-I didn’t know I could do that,” he stammers.
Cordelia’s voice is like steel. “I killed one of your pets. I can show you what it felt like, if you’d like.”
The young woman laughs. “Look at you trying to be scary. Shut up. I’d have you tangled in thousands of monster limbs before you could even consider it,” she spits. “I was told I’d never have to interact with any of you. You’re lucky I don’t mind surprises.”
Blythe wiggles through the vines and rises to her feet, facing this coy stranger. The two most striking things about her are the bronze, trident pin glinting on her shirt and the long, discolored figure pulling dark across the left side of her face.
The woman catches Blythe’s stare. “Like the scar? It’s new. If you want one all you have to do is ask the Black Veins Imperial Army to invade your city unprovoked.”
Blythe hopes this woman isn’t expecting sympathy from her. Who cares if she was in Electric City during the attack? Blythe was in the café, but that didn’t stop Whiteclaw from breaking in and kidnapping her family right in front of her.
“You have two choices,” Cordelia snaps. “Leave willingly or leave by force.”
“Don’t be pushy,” the woman huffs. “Your friend ran here like she couldn’t wait to meet me. We should at least chat.”
Her eyes slip, like water, over to Blythe. They have lost their magical glow, but they remain dark and cutting. “How did you like my gift, Ether? I stole that cute picture out of your backpack while you were asleep. Added my own spin, of course.”
Blythe’s vision goes red with rage. She snatches out her hockey stick before she can think. The Trident Republic must think this is a game.
If they believe she’s going to give up—go collapse somewhere and cry—then they are damn fools.
“Oh please, don’t waste your time,” the woman continues. “You don’t have much of it. If the Black Veins decides this is a war, they’ll attack us. And you wouldn’t want them to accidently harm our hostages in the process.”
The other Guardians have gone silent behind Blythe. But the woman’s lying. She’s just trying to provoke Blythe.
“The Sages wouldn’t do that,” Blythe snaps. But she can’t stop her mind from wondering—what if they did?
The woman sets her hands on her hips, her giant sleeves echoing. “You trust your Sages so much?” she smirks. “War is war and time is ticking, so give me what you stole and we’ll both head our separate ways.”
“Bullshit,” Blythe growls. She winds the hockey stick back—it vibrates with magic. “You’re the one with something of mine.”
Something about Cordelia captures the woman’s attention.
“Oh, see,” the woman says. “She knows what I’m talking about.”
Cordelia’s eyes have gone wide—but she quickly neutralizes her expression. “We lost it when we threw stuff out of the van,” she says. “It’s back in Montana somewhere. Go find it if you want it so badly.”
The woman tsks. “Nobody likes a liar.”
An amalgamation of Krubim shoot up from the ground. It is a looming blob of limbs and bodies fused into one form—a form that wraps around Cordelia and forces her into the air.
Antonio’s wings splay wide and he flies toward the woman. Cawing Krubim burst from thin air, shooting at him like bullets.
He weaves through them, effortless, until one grabs him by the arm, pulling him to the ground.
“I really did not sign up for this,” the woman groans. “Give me the shard and I’ll free your friend.”
Blythe surges forward, her hockey stick glowing fluorescent white. “Give me my family, you piece of shit!” she screams.
The woman catches sight of her. Krubim leap from her hand at the same time Blythe swings.
The hockey stick hits a Krubim with an explosive burst of energy. The whole forest trembles from the ripples of force.
It throws the woman off her feet, her body slapping into a tree and collapsing onto the leaves.
The energy has blown the Krubim amalgamation into dripping pieces of oily sludge—sludge that now surrounds Cordelia’s form on the ground. She screams, but not out of pain. The goo just looks really, really gross.
The sound of shifting leaves alerts Blythe to the woman sitting up.
“God,” she growls. “You’re all a pain in the ass aren’t y—”
A surge of tree roots reach through the ground, coiling around her limbs. She frowns, trying to lift herself to her feet, but the earth does not let her go.
The roots coil tight along her arms, snaking up her torso to twist across her mouth, tying her every limb to the forest floor.
Daniel stands with his hands outstretched, face gone pink with the effort.
“Hell yeah, Daniel!” Blythe yells.
Something whooshes past her—it’s Antonio, back in the
air, snatching up Cordelia so quickly, it looks like she’s disappeared. Blythe grabs Daniel by the wrist and darts after them. Despite all of his earthly magic, Daniel does not run very fast, and Blythe is mostly dragging him.
Cordelia screams in Antonio’s arms. “I DON’T REMEMBER ASKING YOU TO SNATCH ME OFF THE GROUND!”
“Sorry dude, we gotta move!” he yells.
Honestly, Blythe considers this a lucky break. The encounter could have been worse; one of them could have been injured, or the woman could have sent some new monstrosity after them.
The ground shakes. “Blythe, she’s sending something after us!” Daniel yells.
“I had to fucking jinx it,” Blythe groans.
It’s much bigger than Krubim; the trees tremble from its footfalls. A bird-like caw shoots over Blythe’s shoulder, along with the sound of massive, flapping feathers.
Blythe curses aloud. It’s probably that giant bird from earlier; another one of the species Katia killed.
“Daniel, we gotta run faster!” Blythe yells.
But Daniel does the opposite—he stops.
“This is not the time to be frozen with fear—"
He interrupts Blythe.“Nightshade!”
Daniel rips free, running toward the trees, and Blythe yells for him as she races after him. He kneels over a patch of flowers and berries in the grass.
“I need this!” he insists. He rips up a handful of them. “I-I need to—”
There is a shuddering boom that shakes through Blythe’s body. Movement to the left catches Blythe’s eye. A falling tree is racing toward them.
Daniel screams. Blythe pushes him ahead, running fast enough to kick up dirt in her wake.
The tree snaps through the canopy of branches as they race out of the way, hitting the ground just as Antonio lands on top of the van.
He yanks open the passenger door and tosses Cordelia in—and of course she shrieks the whole way.
Antonio’s expression is desperate. “Guys, hurry!”
“Can’t you drive?!?” Blythe screams. He could at least get behind the wheel!
“I’m fourteen!”
“What? How are you almost as tall as me?!”
The creature caws behind them. Blythe can feel the air ripple from its movements. It’s getting too close for comfort.
Another tree collides with the ground as she and Daniel reach the van. “
Who has the compass?!” Blythe yells.
“I do!” Cordelia answers.
“Put in Storm Crane’s address!” Blythe leaps into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind her. She reaches for the ignition and hits thin air. “Keys, keys!”
“I found ‘em!” Antonio throws them to her.
She shoves them in. The engine roars to life. “Where to?!”
Cordelia stares at the compass in her hands. “I don’t know, it’s not giving a direction!”
“Cordelia!”
“Its coming!” Daniel shrieks.
A massive body of oily feathers fills the sideview, as large as a building, stomping toward them. They cannot fight that thing.
“East!” Cordelia shrieks. “East!”
Blythe floors it. The van rips forward. Judging from the mirror, the bird is close, but not close enough to—
The back end of the van swerves as something slams into it.
Blythe yanks the wheel, setting the van straight as the creature shrieks and pitches forward again.
Objects in view may be closer than that appear, the sideview mirror reads. Goddamn it.
“Stay east!” Cordelia screams.
The ground crunches as they break through a patch of branches and trees. Blythe doesn’t let off the gas. The creature’s footfalls are hard enough to bounce their tires off the ground.
“Daniel, can you keep it off us?!” Blythe yells.
“N-N-Not while it’s moving!” Daniel screams.
Blythe grips the wheel harder. The van feels like it wants to fly out of control.
“Go left a bit!” Cordelia yells.
Blythe turns and the line of seven trees swing into view. The van screeches as it moves. It’s leaning way too far right.
“No, no, no, c’mon,” Blythe mutters. “Antonio, shift over to Daniel’s side!”
Antonio launches over the seat. The van balances just as the creature slams a sharp claw behind them with a sound loud enough to vibrate through Blythe’s seat.
“That is not how momentum works—” Cordelia is interrupted.
“I got it!” Daniel yells.
The ground rips and shreds. The trees’ huge roots, the ones as massive as buildings, yank free from their ancient slumber and catch the bird in their grasp.
Blythe laughs. “Fuck yeah, Daniel!”
The van screeches forward. They’re going one hundred miles per hour and the needle is still climbing. If Blythe messes up even a bit, the van will swing out of her control.
Blythe doesn’t let up. The seven trees grow larger as the creature’s caws grow louder.
The world falls silent as they rush into darkness.
Blythe hits the breaks as light breaks through the windows. They burst back into the world, skidding and squealing on asphalt.
Cordelia is thrown forward. “Brake, brake!” she shrieks.
The car skids, screams, grinds…and comes to a halt.
They’re in a parking lot, but judging from the old buildings, new corporate towers, and Ben Franklin statue atop a far building, it’s Philadelphia.
Blythe can’t catch her breath. She checks on the others; Cordelia seems to be in shock, Daniel looks nauseous and Antonio—Antonio is beaming.
“That was SO cool!” he exclaims.
Blythe laughs a bit. She can’t help it. Was it crazy? Of course. But it feels more like they deserve a sticker that says Baby Guardians Survive Their First Baby Fight.
Of course Cordelia has to ruin it. “No, what is wrong with you?!”
Antonio pouts. “I just meant in general. Didn’t have to be anytime soon,” He brightens again, nearly bouncing out of his seat. “Cords, you were so cool with that lady, and Blythe with her hockey stick! Man!”
Blythe gives him a dramatic wink. Cordelia scoffs, pretending to not care as she rolls her eyes, but her cheeks flush pink.
“An all-girl’s school for rich brats teaches you how to be intimidating,” she says.
Antonio’s not done yet, and his attention turns to Daniel. “And those vines were amazing! You did such a good job!”
Daniel shoves the door open and throws up.
“Aww, dude,” Antonio sighs.
“You gonna be okay?” Blythe asks.
With his head still ducked, Daniel gives a thumbs up.
Blythe wants to ask exactly why he needed those berries so damn bad, but she has a feeling he won’t explain in front of Antonio and Cordelia. Plus, he just saved their asses. It’ll have to wait, at least for a bit.
Cordelia whirls to Blythe. “And you!” she hisses. “What do you call that, how you just ran off!”
Blythe opens her mouth to explain—and realizes, really, she…doesn’t have a good reason. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I’m sorry.”
“You have a plan to get your family,” Cordelia retorts. “Don’t stray from it and put us all in danger.”
“Your family?” Antonio asks. “What happened to your family?” He frowns as Daniel dry heaves. “And do we have anything for him?”
One of those questions is a lot easier to answer than the other, so Blythe takes the easy route. She’ll have to explain things to Antonio eventually, but now is not the time. “There’s some water in the trunk—and some snacks.”
“Ohhhh, you shouldn’t have told me about the snacks,” Antonio says, reaching a hand over the seats.
Blythe has so much to think about: Daniel and those berries, updating Antonio on everything…and what the woman said about the Black Veins attacking the Trident Republic and, indirectly, putting her family in dange
r.
She hopes they’ll be driving for a while because she needs time to process.
“We have to get rid of that shard,” Cordelia blurts.
“That shard is the only thing keeping them from brainwashing us,” Blythe replies.
“What do you call what happened in the parking lot? Sometimes you just get the itch to run cars into trees?”
“Maybe! I do whatever the hell I want!” Blythe snaps. “But that couldn’t have been them. It felt nothing like what happened on the roof.”
“Then who? Who else wants to control us into killing ourselves?”
“I don’t know. And if you care so much, Miss Guardian of the Mind, go ahead and do something to stop it.”
“I already told you why I’m not doing that. But since you don’t want to listen to anyone who isn’t yourself, I’ll figure something out for the damn shard.”
“Yeah, you go on ahead,” Blythe huffs. “While you’re at it, get the directions to Storm Crane’s house.”
Thirteen
Cordelia is in a mood. She sits sideways, her back to Blythe. But there are too many thoughts crowding Blythe’s mind for her to care.
They’re stuck in traffic, which gives Blythe a moment to think and take in the city. In-between Philadelphia’s anachronistic old buildings and modern towers is a bustling crowd of businessmen in crisp blazers, young trendsetters, tourists, dog-walkers. It’s like New York City Lite. Super lite.
Blythe sits with her legs against the wheel—they haven’t moved in a while and probably won’t be moving anytime soon.
That woman said her family could be killed as causalities of a second Black Veins attack. Blythe’s stomach ties in knots. What if Blythe is wrong? What if her family isn’t in Electric City, but some other Trident Republic territory? What if that territory gets leveled before she figures it out?
Blythe turns on the Alastair French show, but even he doesn’t have any news. The other Guardians don’t even notice. They’re too busy chatting.
“I wish I would have brought Uno or something,” Antonio whines. He’s resorted to flicking his flip-flop on and off for entertainment. “I didn’t even bring my Switch, this sucks…”