by Claudia Gray
“I’ll take the chance with him,” she said, holding out her hand for Nadia’s pearl charm.
Mateo reached across the table and took her free hand. Verlaine was surprised how much it helped.
“I’m going to get it right,” Nadia said . . . no, promised. Her dark eyes burned with intensity as she removed the pearl charm from her bracelet and put it into Verlaine’s palm. This was the swearing of a solemn oath. “I can do it. I can and I will.”
“I know,” Verlaine replied, and for a moment she could really believe.
Mateo’s hand tightened around hers. At first she thought he was still attempting to comfort her, but then his grip became even tighter, until the bones of her hand ached. She looked at him in alarm, but he was staring past her—through her—
Nadia shook his shoulder. “Mateo?”
He collapsed.
“I serve the One Beneath, and he will not be denied,” Elizabeth said, storm winds whipping her chestnut hair, her eyes alight as if with an unearthly fire.
“Someone, help!” Verlaine ran along a corridor, pursued by pounding footsteps and the shouts of dozens of—people? Demons? In the shadows Mateo couldn’t tell any difference. All he saw was fury and destruction, bearing down on her faster by the moment.
Nadia was attempting to stand amid rushing water, as though she were in the middle of a flooded river. And yet she was holding on to something like a door, or a pillar—like she was inside, even as the waves rose higher.
The storm winds whipped Nadia’s blue-black hair, lightning brilliant in the sky, as she said, “I serve the One Beneath—”
“Mateo? Mateo!”
The dizzying swirl of potential future and present steadied, and he once again knew where he was: La Catrina, specifically lying on the floor. His head lay in Nadia’s lap, Verlaine was patting one of his hands, and Faye seemed to be grabbing something from the bar, maybe a damp rag or some ice. Mateo shifted his weight, then winced. “Ow.”
“You fell pretty hard,” Nadia said. “The visions again? What did you see?”
“I can’t tell. Sometimes the dreams aren’t literal; you know that.” He groaned and pushed himself to sit upright. “I saw you in trouble—as usual. Verlaine, too.”
“Oh, yay,” Verlaine muttered.
The front door jingled, and Mateo frowned; he thought he’d locked that door. But someone else had a copy of the key—Dad, who was staring at him in dawning horror. “Madre de Dios, Mateo, are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Mateo said, but he didn’t think it was too convincing, seeing as how he was sprawled out on the floor.
Sure enough, Dad ran to him, his face white. “Is this another one of the seizures? I was just starting to think maybe that was a one-time thing, but now—”
Last month, a spell gone wrong had landed Mateo in the hospital overnight; the doctors, having no other way of understanding what ailed him, assumed he must have had a seizure. Mateo had felt awful about panicking his father, but he’d thought they’d all get over it quickly enough. So much for that. “I don’t think so.”
Dad wasn’t buying it. “We’re taking you to the hospital, right now.”
“You shouldn’t do that,” Faye said, stepping out from behind the bar, ice bag still in her hands. “Mr. Perez? I’m Faye Walsh from Rodman High. I understand your concern for your son, but given the illness sweeping through the community, not to mention the quake—the hospital’s not going to have capacity for Mateo right now. These are emergency situations.”
Wow, she was a good liar. And because she was an adult, Dad actually listened.
“I don’t like it,” his father said, but he sighed. “You’re right, though. Mateo, have you been taking your antiseizure medication?”
“No,” he admitted. This was because the stuff was useless, but at least Dad wouldn’t look any harder for an explanation.
“I tell you, and I tell you! In one ear and out the other!” Dad rarely yelled unless he was really, really scared. He was yelling now. “Come on. I’m taking you home. You’re going to take your medicine and lie down for a while.”
Mateo turned to Nadia in dismay. He wanted to be with her now—to lend his Steadfast power to the spells she would cast. That had just become impossible.
She closed her eyes for a moment, as if concentrating, and suddenly they were suffused by an aquamarine light. He realized immediately that nobody else could see this besides him, and perhaps Faye: This was magic. Nadia had just cast a spell, and whatever it was, it made him feel steadier instantly. It was a little like being desperately seasick aboard a boat, then stepping onto solid ground.
“This should help you sort out the dreams,” she murmured, low enough for Dad not to hear. “I don’t know that it’s going to stop them, but you should be able to tell the difference between dreams and reality.”
Faye had engaged Dad in a conversation about how the school could accommodate Mateo’s condition. He decided he liked her. Quickly Mateo whispered, “I can sneak out. Just give me ten minutes or so at the house.”
To his surprise, Nadia shook her head. “If you’re overcome—it’s dangerous to both of us, Mateo. What I want you to do is to report the visions to me if you can. Text me, or call. If you start to see a more definite future, and there’s something you can warn me about, then warn me, okay?”
“Or me,” Verlaine piped up. He’d almost forgotten she was sitting near them. “Since I’m in danger, too. If the One Beneath is coming after me, I’d appreciate a heads-up.”
“I want to be with you,” he said to Nadia. “I want to help you.”
“You do. Every hour. Every minute.” She framed his face with her hands. “You’re my strength, always.”
It didn’t matter if the others were watching. Mateo pulled her close and kissed her, and tried very hard to believe it wouldn’t be for the last time.
“That was amazing,” Gage said as he smiled dazedly at the ceiling.
Naked, Elizabeth rose from the pile of blankets that Gage believed to be a bed. His mind was now clouded by her magic. The worst effects of Betrayer’s Snare had by now worn off; a couple hours’ use of a male body had burned away the fever of her desire and left behind only sore muscles and a slightly elevated pulse.
“You always seemed so, I don’t know—shy.” He grinned over at her, utterly besotted. She stared back impassively; he would be incapable of recognizing her indifference. “Guess I got that wrong. Or maybe you just choose your moments to show that wild side.”
“I choose my moments,” she said, considering her options.
It would be easy enough to make Gage forget the entire encounter. However, she could do that at any point. With Betrayer’s Snare no longer influencing her, she would have no more need of him in her bed, but that didn’t mean he was useless.
Sex was a necessary ingredient in a spell she hadn’t cast in a very long time. At this critical moment, couldn’t she use more than one servant? Asa’s loyalties were so cloudy, his obedience so grudging; to have a slave who obeyed from slavish adoration rather than fear might prove useful.
Once Gage became her thrall, she could use him to spy. To undermine. Even to kill. And he would never question it.
“Come here, my love.” Elizabeth held out her hand. Gage rose to take it, just as willingly as he would soon give her his blood.
25
NADIA STOOD AGAIN AT THE BEACH. THE AREA WAS deserted. Everyone in Captive’s Sound was probably either inspecting their homes for earthquake damage or running to their loved ones. That meant she had the wide expanse of pale sand and the dark, churning sound to herself.
At least, for now. She had no doubt Elizabeth would find her soon.
Her phone chimed with texts, one after the other. She held it up to look at the screen.
From Mateo: Dad helicoptering. Feeling all right. No more dreams yet. You okay?
I’m fine, she texted back. Setting out any second. Love you.
From Verlaine: I’m
at the hospital. All systems go!
The phone chimed one more time. This time it was Faye. In front of Elizabeth’s house. There’s light inside—she seems to be home, and I don’t think she’s alone. I’ll let you know if she’s on the move.
Once again Nadia felt a quiver in her belly, both of astonishment and of doubt. The astonishment came from having finally found someone else who understood witchcraft and was willing to talk. No, Faye wasn’t a witch herself, but her mother’s Book of Shadows had already proved incredibly useful.
The sky overhead rumbled with thunder. Mateo had often told her about the horrible roiling he saw over Captive’s Sound; it was evidence of Elizabeth’s hold on this town, visible only to a Steadfast.
Or it had been. Now even Nadia thought she saw a movement in the clouds that was less like the wind, more like the slithering of something almost alive.
Could everyone see it now? With all the signs and portents—the way this town was literally coming apart—would others realize that something unnatural was at work?
It didn’t matter. That was something for Nadia to deal with after this, if there was an after.
She walked toward the nearby pier, where a lone rowboat was tethered, bobbing up and down on the waves. For a moment she imagined herself as being just as alone, but that wasn’t true.
Her friends were all doing their part—and Mateo was with her, no matter what.
Faye tried to make herself comfortable in her car. Like anyone could get comfortable when the sky was doing . . . that.
I’m glad you can’t understand this any longer, Momma, she thought. And yet I can’t help wishing you still had your Craft and could come here to kick some Sorceress ass.
Could her mother have overcome Elizabeth’s power? No telling. But it wouldn’t have hurt to have her on Nadia’s side.
She’d known the minute she first drove into Captive’s Sound that this place was serious trouble. To a Steadfast, every inch of this town looked like a nightmare come true. No wonder Mateo Perez had had trouble with it; even Faye, with her years of experience, had been terrified by her first sight of the many spells that wove along the streets and buildings and sea. Evil dwelled here: no question about that.
But she’d taken the job exactly because this town was so troubled—because, even if she’d never be a witch like her mother, she wanted to think she could do some good.
Well, now was her chance.
The front door of Elizabeth’s house opened, and Faye tensed. But it wasn’t Elizabeth who walked out. To her astonishment, it was Gage Calloway.
Gage? He was a good kid. What the hell would he be doing with Elizabeth Pike?
Faye grabbed her phone to text Nadia. Maybe this wasn’t something she needed to know—but maybe it was, and Faye didn’t intend to take any chances.
When she began typing, though, her car door swung open.
Startled, she turned to see Gage just as he grabbed her arm and towed her out of the car.
“What are you doing?” Faye struggled but couldn’t pull free; he was strong. “Let me go!”
Gage didn’t listen. No—he couldn’t listen. His eyes stared at her vacantly, completely devoid of their usual intelligence and humor. And now that he was this close, she could see, hanging around him like an aura, the sickly, red light that could signify dark magic.
Elizabeth’s controlling him. He’s her thrall.
Faye stopped trying to escape and started fighting back. She tackled him, and apparently the element of surprise was enough to get him to stagger backward. That gave her a chance to yank her arm away and leap into her car.
Gage smashed at the door, but her shaking fingers were already turning the key in the ignition. Within seconds she’d sped off, panting as she glanced in the rearview mirror to see Gage staring after her impassively.
What was it her mother had taught her? Thralls can’t do anything complicated, not while they’re being directly influenced. They love their creator, and only their creator. They can sense danger to the Sorceress. And they’ll fight to protect her.
Right now, all of them represented some danger to Elizabeth—Nadia, Mateo, Verlaine, everyone. The only question was which of them Gage would go after next.
Stop looking at it! If people see you staring, they’ll wonder what you’re staring at.
Verlaine curled into one of the plastic chairs at the hospital and tried very hard not to imagine that the pearl she now wore in the locket around her neck wasn’t warm. Or glowing. Or tingling with energy. Because it wasn’t—she’d double-checked the glowing part in the mirror. That was just her imagination running away with her, reminding her of the power she would soon help to channel.
The power that might soon kill her—
Once again the ground trembled, and people cried out in alarm. The quake wasn’t as bad as the one that morning, though; the shaking died down after only a few moments. For Verlaine it was a relief: Probably just Nadia at work, she thought.
But for everyone else in the waiting area, all the exhausted family members of mysteriously ill patients, the quake seemed to be the last straw.
“This isn’t right!” one woman cried. “This isn’t natural, and we all know it!”
People murmured in assent. Then the murmuring turned into anger. Verlaine kept her face turned away in an attempt to hide her astonishment. Were the residents of Captive’s Sound finally catching on to the fact that their town was seriously messed up?
In one way, that would be cool, because it would prove that the people around Verlaine were marginally less stupid than she’d believed them to be. But if people suspected the truth, wouldn’t Nadia’s work suddenly get more complicated? Because then people would be looking for the signs of witchcraft, looking for the witches themselves—
“That one!” someone shouted. “She’s always around when things go wrong, and look at her! She’s pretending the quake didn’t even happen!”
Verlaine glanced up to see who they were talking about, only to see the entire group staring directly at her.
Oh, crap, she thought.
“I—” What was she supposed to say? They seemed to expect her to say something. She went back on the best defense she could think of, which was a total lie: “Come on, people. There’s no such thing as, uh, the supernatural.”
“She’s always sneaking in and out,” someone else said. The group began to move closer to her, slowly, but the hairs on Verlaine’s arms rose. “She’s always poking her nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
Any other person might have been protected, Verlaine realized, just by the friendships and connections people made in a small town. This angry, upset crowd ought to remember that she was Gary and Dave’s daughter, that she went to school with their kids, that they saw her in the same stores and on the same streets where they were themselves. They should have seen her as one of them.
But Verlaine was masked by black magic. Nobody loved her. Not many people even liked her. They couldn’t.
That meant they were free to fear her. To hate her.
“You’re not yourselves,” she said as she rose to her feet. She closed her fingers around the locket on her neck, instinctively protecting the pearl charm. “You’re not thinking straight. We’re all upset. Everyone needs to calm down.”
With that she turned and began to walk out of the hospital. If she didn’t panic, they wouldn’t, either. Slow and steady, easy does it . . .
“Stop her!” came the shout, and then the footsteps pounded behind her, and Verlaine could only run.
Her heart seemed to be pounding its way through her rib cage, as though it wanted to shatter her. Verlaine’s first instinct was to run for her car, but already people were crowding the hallways all around her and blocking her way. Their eyes were wild, hardly even human. They’d been pushed to the limits of their endurance, beyond the point of rational thought. They blamed her for what was happening in Captive’s Sound, and they intended to make her pay.
Uncl
e Gary! she thought. They wouldn’t hurt her if she was with the patients; they’d calm down if only to protect their own loved ones. And if they remembered that someone she loved had been struck down, too, maybe that would snap them out of it.
But they were close on her now—shouts and footsteps an ever-increasing roar behind her—and Verlaine nearly gave way to panic.
She flung open the door that would lead her toward the elevator and dashed through, then skidded to a stop.
Asa stood there. Verlaine didn’t even have to wonder why he’d come; Elizabeth had sensed some small part of their plan and sent her demon henchman to keep it from unfolding. And now Asa could trap her, right where the mob could tear her apart.
As the winds on the sound picked up, so did the waves. Nadia clung to the weather-beaten white stucco of the lighthouse as water crashed right at her feet. Sea spray soaked her clothes, heightened the chill.
Now or never, Nadia decided.
Hand on the garnet on her bracelet, she summoned the ingredients for the spell:
Soothing the nightmare of a child.
Healing a wound that struck deep.
Forgiving what could not be forgiven.
Once again the ground rumbled. Nadia glanced toward the dark, choppy ocean; even she could see hints of the bridge now. The One Beneath was so very close.
Holding Cole in her arms, rocking him back and forth, whispering that there were no monsters outside, no monsters at all, not while his big sister was here to protect him.
A morning about three weeks after Mom had left, when they were all eating cereal in the kitchen without saying a word, and then a stupid old disco song from when Dad was little came on the radio, and he started singing and Cole started laughing and before Nadia knew it, she and her dad were doing the stupidest dance they could think of, just because it felt so good to have fun again.
Crying quietly on the bus in Chicago, telling herself over and over again that Mom had done what she’d done for love, and feeling a terrible weight finally lift from her after far too long.