Unlimited power.
Anything I wanted.
“R-AB1,” I whispered into the night. “Will you grant me the force of your fire?”
There was a strange moment as I found that the phoenix spoke not in images like the dragon, nor words like the demon, but in emotion. A pure giddy feeling swept over me that could only be agreement.
“Look what I can do for you,” said Estahoth. “You couldn’t do this without me.”
“I know,” I said. “Believe me, I know.”
And then the phoenix burst into flame.
Estahoth reached out through me and like a current we transmuted the force of the explosion. Unlike Sarmine, we didn’t use it to power a spell. We used it for another elemental. We translated that fire into an energy that we fed to the call of the approaching dragon.
Like a radio transmitter we sent Moonfire’s plaintive call for her sisters out to the world.
We stayed there, holding the current in place till the force of the explosion dimmed. It seemed to last forever; forever, I stood looking around at the world lit with a soft golden glow. Forever I kept the fire back, kept it from engulfing the town. I wondered if the town could see any of this, or if it was as difficult to see as a mostly invisible dragon.
The new phoenix, the baby arisen from the ashes, flitted out of that flame, as tiny as the mouse had been. It ringed my ghostly head for another indefinite span of time as the golden glow blackened to night. Until at last I felt the sadness of parting, and a swelling of thanks.
And then it was gone.
The demon slowly collapsed us back from the sky, back from power, back from strength. Jenah and Moonfire came to a landing down on the runway of the track. I stood on the hillside in the dark, knees and elbows shivering from the prolonged stretch. For the first time in my life I felt short.
The last bits of the phoenix’ explosion hung in the sky, like the aftermath of fireworks. There was fury on both the witch’s and Hikari’s faces, but that didn’t stop them from running around and picking up bits of phoenix feathers, and occasionally kicking each other.
It was kind of nice to know that Sparkle’s attention was going to be occupied for a while. I didn’t think she wanted to be Kari any more than I had wanted to be like Sarmine. I remembered a girl who’d stood up for me and my stolen Bomb Pop and sighed. You never really knew anyone, not even your closest friends. Maybe not even yourself.
But self-examination would have to wait—the night wasn’t over yet. Until the last bits of phoenix fire faded, the demon remained on earth.
And where he remained was in me.
Now that my adrenaline was relinquishing its hold on me, the demon’s presence inside me was the most horrible thing ever. It was no longer like a goldfish swimming in my mouth. It was more like a cockroach running around behind my teeth. “If you let me stay,” he said, and the words seemed to coil through the veins in my body, “then you could have this kind of power forever.” With invisible fingers, he stretched us to the dragon on the field. Reached inside—and pulled a salamander off its Velcro hold on the dragon’s lungs. We disintegrated the salamander. The dragon coughed, then purred.
“Am I all bad?” he said. “Look at the good we could do.”
“The good you were bound to do,” I said. “That was in your contract.”
“With my help you could be greater and more powerful than all the witches in the world,” he said. “Be better than Sarmine Scarabouche.”
Despite the nasty slithery clattery feeling, I laughed. The gentle thanks of the phoenix still feathered my soul and I laughed—at Estahoth, the millennia-old elemental.
“Estahoth,” I said. “I already am better than Sarmine Scarabouche.”
And inside the cockroaches dissolved. Faded out and away. I felt Estahoth wailing, felt him clutching at his last hope of Earth.
And then he was gone.
I stared at the night sky.
Below me Jenah and Moonfire stood on the track field, watching for any sign of another dragon left in the world.
Devon stood with an arm draped on the T-Bird, looking into the night sky like he’d never seen it before. I could see why the fire elementals wanted to be on land. Earth was a beautiful place.
I parked my butt on the cement block of the T-Bird and patted its grasping claw with fingers that hardly shook. I was glad the T-Bird hadn’t turned out to be the phoenix after all. No one would miss tripping over the mouse. They probably wouldn’t even notice its absence.
Devon’s arm was very near mine. I looked at him staring into the sky and suddenly I knew that my worries about only liking the demon-altered Devon were ridiculous. The demon might have improved his confidence, but that was only a veneer on top of the boy I liked. Like a perfect pair of jeans, or a new shade of dark-brown hair.
I set my hand on top of his. It was a few moments before I could be sure I could speak without my voice shaking or squeaking. Big important moments are funny things. You don’t feel scared until it’s all over and you’ve stopped your school from getting blown to bits by an atomic phoenix cloud.
“Are you going to be okay to play?” I said. “Your stage fright.”
Devon tossed back his blond hair. “Cam, my friend,” he said, “with your help I fought a demon out of my soul. I can sing in front of people.”
Friend, I thought, but I didn’t move my hand. All that and just friend. Who’d liked me, then? Was it only desperate, collar-flipping Estahoth? Shudder and sigh. “I’m glad you’ve got your courage back,” I said.
“In more ways than one,” Devon said. He got off the T-Bird and took my hands. The words came slipping out in velvety song: “She’s a lion tamer, a lion tamer…” The song trailed off as his eyes held mine. And then shyly but firmly, he kissed me.
All I can say about that is, what seemed like ages later, I heard Jenah shout, “Woo hoo!” Reddening, we broke apart—but she was looking at the night sky, not at us.
Swooping in aerials, showing off their invisible tops and their sky-blue bellies, three dragons soared overhead.
17
Witch Girl
Blue Crush rocked.
At least, what I heard of them from outside did. The dance picked back up and Blue Crush took the stage. But I had to say a tearful farewell to an invisible-and-sky-blue dragon.
Jenah and I hugged her hard.
“She says she won’t forget you,” Jenah said. “She says she’ll come back.”
“I know,” I said. Through the warmth of her hide I saw her images one last time. A picture of the three female dragons, soaring together over a long stretch of snow and ice. “Watch out for polar bears,” I said.
“Tasty polar bears,” said Jenah.
Behind Moonfire I saw the witch stalking up, heels grinding the dirt.
“You’d better go,” I said to the dragon.
Jenah saw the approaching witch. “I’d better, too,” she said, and she laid her hand on the dragon’s hide one last time. “Take care.”
The dragons lifted from the ground, the down-rush of wings hefting us backward. Even Sarmine stopped as the dragons rose into the night sky, translucent and winking in and out against the stars.
I kept my eyes focused on the disappearing Moonfire and pretended not to notice the witch. Of course Sarmine would never take a hint.
“No phoenix, no phoenix-burst, and Hikari back in town,” said Sarmine. “All my plans destroyed. But by far, I’m the most upset about losing my dragon. That was my main source of elemental power. Was I hurting her to take her tears?”
Be firm. “It’s not about that,” I said, watching the stars blink. “She needed a chance to have her own life. She’s not a pet.”
“Well,” said Sarmine. “I think it needs punishment. A grand punishment. I say three days in the dragon’s garage with loss of sight and hearing. Smell, you can keep.” She grabbed things from her fanny pack, crushed them in her palm, and dipped her metal wand into it.
But as
she flicked her wand at me, I dipped my wooden wand into a certain sticky pear mixture and flicked back, hard.
I didn’t expect her to explode like the eggplant and she didn’t. But she recoiled as if she’d been punched.
Sarmine looked up at me. A strange glimmer was in her eyes.
“That era is over,” I said, eye to eye. I don’t think I’d realized we were the same height until just that minute. “You can’t do those things to me anymore.” I raised my wand as I spoke. “No more mosquito bites. No more cooked-noodle hands. No more rabid pumpkin vines.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” I said. I itched to tackle her as I had Sparkle, but I stayed calm. “And while we’re on the subject, why? Why did you do all those horrible things?”
The witch steepled her fingers. “Horrible punishments are the established method for rearing young witches.”
“Parents used to spank kids with tree branches, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea,” I said.
Was that glimmer … pride? There was something twinkling behind her stern face. But Sarmine never smiled, and she wasn’t going to start now. “Witch parents want their children to use and create antidotes. The real world is dangerous. We don’t want you to be wounded—or worse—the first time another witch attacks you.” Sarmine tapped her chin. “I gave you spells to learn. I’ve left my study door open for years, hoping you’d sneak in and find your dad’s wand.” She pointed at the wood-and-abalone wand I held. “Again and again I wanted you to react by using magic. But you didn’t, no matter how angry I made you. You channeled all that anger into building up your story for yourself. That magical block you and Sparkle made together. I couldn’t get through that.”
“So the whole wicked-witch thing is what, an act?”
“Certainly not!” Sarmine said, offended. She brushed her last punishment spell to the ground and rubbed it out with her shoe. “Witches are naturally nasty,” she said. “It’s one of our most prized traits, along with that paranoia thing. Your father, poor soul, was never a very good witch that way. Too warmhearted about the weaklings of the world. He was always getting in my way. And yet I miss the dope like my right arm. What a weak fool I am, after all.”
I nodded. Took a deep breath. “Sarmine Scarabouche,” I said, “I disagree with a whole lot of the things you do. I want to live my life differently. I disagree with your choices and I want to make my own.”
Sarmine’s lips tightened. I could not tell at all what she thought of this statement, and I brought up my hand full of sticky pear, readying my wand again. “No witch would consider this a compliment,” she said at last, “so don’t take it that way.” She looked down her long nose at me. “You remind me so much of your father.”
I looked at the witch and then I did something I hadn’t done for ten years.
I hugged her.
Slowly and stiffly, I got a hug back.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said.
Appendix
SPELLS
A Verie Good Self-Defense Spell for Beginning Witches, About Foure Years of Age
Ingredients
1. Algae
2. Hummingbird
3. Water
4. Maple Syrup
5. Cornstarch
6. Placemat
7. Harpy Claw
8. Pear
9. Paprika
10. Sugar
11. Pepper
12. Elephant Tusk
Instructions
1. Combine the 3rd and 4th ingredients at a 2:3 ratio so the amount is double the size of the ingredient that contains a human sensory organ.
2. Use twice as much of the 7th ingredient as the 12th.
3. Use 2.5 T chopped pear.
4. Substitute the 1st and 5th ingredients for the 3rd ingredient if more readily available.
5. Use one pinch of each ingredient starting with P that is numbered higher than 8.
6. To know the amount of the 12th ingredient, simply subtract the amount of the 11th from the amount of the 9th.
Preparation
1. If the amount of the 12th ingredient is >5, boil the 7th ingredient in a vat of chicken soup.
2. If the amount of the 4th ingredient is <= 3T, chop the 8th ingredient with both hands.
3. If the amount of the 11th ingredient is greater than 4 gallons, sing “Mary Had a Little Goat” five times backward while chasing down ingredient #2.
4. Mix.
Ye Olde Demon-Loosening Spell for Feebleminded Witches Who Have Changed Their Minds About Which Puny Human Should Hold Said Demon.
Ingredients
1. Honeycomb
2. Oyster
3. Apple
4. Paper clip
5. Hail
6. Eggplant
7. Pumpkin
8. Dragon Milk
9. Goat’s Blood
10. Dandelion Root
11. Earwig
12. Basilisk Urine
Instructions
1. If directed elsewhere to use #9 or #3, these are the measurements: 1 oz of #9, 2 units of #3.
2. If it is a Monday, use 1 oz of #12 and 18 units of #7. Else not, unless the date of the month adds up to 5 or is divisible by 5.
3. The amount of units of #3 plus the amount of units of #2 = the amount of units of #4.
4. The item made up of chicken containers + green leafy things? Don’t use that.
5. #4 is 1 greater than #3, if #5 is not used. Use 1 drop of #8, if #3 is used.
6. Use twice as many of #10 as #11; #11 is the amount of twice #3 minus the amount of #4.
7. Use all the ingredients that contain consecutive double letters, unless specified elsewhere not to.
8. #9 is imperative.
Preparation
1. If #1 is used, combine all ingredients in a cardboard box.
2. If #2 is used, combine all ingredients in a bowl.
3. If #3 is used, let it steep with #2 for twelve hours.
4. If #4 is used, speak the word “Neekwollah” twice.
5. If #5 is used, you may not breathe.
6. If #6 is used, you must chop it with a butter knife.
7. If #7 is used, you must perform the spell within a day of mixing.
8. If #8 is used, you must perform the spell within 30 seconds of mixing.
9. If #9 is used, do not touch the mixture once complete.
10. If #10 is used, gather it before the sun goes down.
11. If #11 is used, include the flower it was sitting on.
12. If #12 is used, I am very sorry for you.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A long list of folks have read this book at various stages. Many thanks to Caroline M. Yoachim, Tinatsu Wallace, Meghan Sinoff, Julie McGalliard, K. Bird Lincoln, Josh English, Mischa DeNola, and my family, who all read it back when it was still called Witch Girl Hearts Demon Boy, as well as to more recent readers/teachers Jeff Hendriksen and Brian Allard for advising on high school things, writer/musician Spencer Ellsworth for advising on boy-band boy things, and the generally awesome Leah Cypess for advising on ways to make it generally awesome. (Any errors of non-awesomeness left would be my own.) I should also thank: anyone else I’ve forgotten along the way.
More thanks accrue to Tinatsu Wallace, who keeps getting thanked in subsequent books for the previous book’s handmade jewelry swag (in this case, TWO baby woglets), Renee James at Powells for general event-related awesomeness, and everyone who’s hosted me for Silverblind events, including the wonderful local libraries Ledding, Hillsdale, and St. Helens.
A really special thank-you this time to Ginger Clark, who first believed in this book; AS ALWAYS the most amazing kind of thanks to Melissa Frain for bringing out the heart of every book; Desiree Friesen for above-and-beyond efforts in publicity; Emma Goulder for the fab picture for the cover; Seth Lerner, Amy Saxon, Sarah Romeo, Karen Richardson, and the rest of the Curtis Brown and Tor Teen teams.
And finally, to my friends, family, and Eric, who continue to give me help
and support, and especially to all my readers who have written me such kind words about Ironskin and Copperhead and Silverblind. Thank you.
November 2014
Portland, Oregon
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tina Connolly lives with her family in Portland, Oregon, in a house that came with a dragon in the basement and blackberry vines in the attic. She is the author of Ironskin, a Nebula Award finalist, and its sequels, Copperhead and Silverblind. Her stories have appeared all over, including in Strange Horizons, Lightspeed, and Beneath Ceaseless Skies. She is a frequent reader for PodCastle and narrates the Parsec-winning flash fiction podcast Toasted Cake. In the summer, she works as a face painter, which means a glitter-filled house is an occupational hazard. Learn more at www.tinaconnolly.com. You can sign up for email updates here.
Tor Books by Tina Connolly
Ironskin
Copperhead
Silverblind
Seriously Wicked
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
1. True Witchery
2. In a Pig’s Ear
3. Goat’s Blood
4. Boy-Band Boy
5. Devon on the Loose
6. Sparkle This
7. Punk-Band Boy
8. A Hundred Pixies
9. Squash
10. Jenah Hearts Dragons
11. Who Was Where with Whom
12. Zombie Girl
13. Kiss Me
14. Halloween Dance
15. CASH
16. Demon Girl
17. Witch Girl
Seriously Wicked Page 18