But he didn’t want to. He didn’t know what was happening, and after all that had happened he didn’t care—he liked the way the words felt on his tongue. They held power. He found himself rising in the air, surrounded by strange houses on a road he didn’t know. The words kept coming, and an oil lamp hanging from the building in front of him went out, leaving only the gray shadow of moonlight trying to pierce the night’s thick clouds.
Panicking, the spirit fought against his control. But as it had been with the fortuneteller, the spirit was powerless. Images, memories, thoughts—the true essence of the spirit rolled out in front of him. He could see everything it had ever seen and read its every thought. It was a blur, too much. He felt the spirit’s essence recoil within him, trying to hold something back, an old memory often thought about and never forgotten. It was something Edwin may never have found on his own, something he didn’t even know to look for, but the spirit’s fear led him there.
Edwin, stop! his spirit’s essence screamed inside him.
What are you hiding from me? Edwin’s mind shot back.
And then he heard a woman’s scream. As the spirit’s memory opened before him, he realized the spirit had taken him back to the night his mother had died. Usually the nightmare ended with his mother’s death, but he realized now there was more. That night the spirit was smaller and weaker than Edwin ever remembered seeing it. Struggling to hold its essence together, it floated through Chardwick to the house where his mother had left him, and went straight to the crib with the crying baby on the second floor and coiled itself protectively around him.
Edwin, please… his spirit pleaded, but he ignored it and pushed the memory further.
As the image of the house faded, a new scene replaced it, a scene where the spirit was roaming Chardwick alone. It couldn’t take life by itself, and its smoke drifted away into nothing, only to reappear a few moments later, slowly drawn back into the spirit’s being.
Time flashed forward quickly, and Edwin was again shown the house. Beyond the vision, he could hear himself saying the fortuneteller’s words, but he was barely aware of them. What seemed more real was the vision of the spirit drifting along the floor. Edwin could tell that it was weaker than ever, but the baby in the vision didn’t know the difference. The baby was old enough now to sit up on his own, and the spirit circled him, igniting small sparks in the air, which made the baby giggle. When the woman of the house entered the room, the spirit retreated behind a shelf and the baby cried. At night, the spirit listened as the woman simpered quietly in bed. She couldn’t understand why Edwin cried every time she entered the room.
“It’s not our baby! He’s not ours! I know he isn’t,” she sobbed.
Her husband held her to his chest. “Shh,” he soothed. “Don’ say that. You don’ want to go back to tha healer, do ya?”
“But that book, that blanket, they’re not ours. That night he appeared—”
“Shh,” her husband repeated. “You know we can’t take the blanket. He’ll never stop cryin’. And I’ve taken care of the book.”
“But what about Edwin—or whoever that is? We should tell the Council.”
The man shook his head. “Stop talkin’ crazy. You want them to sacrifice our baby to the hallow tree? That’s all such talk’ll bring. You love him, Rona, I know you do. And he’s such a sweet and innocent little thing. Looks just like your father, he does.”
“He looks nothing like my father,” the woman said, wiping her nose. She took a deep breath, and the fight went out of her. Trying to crack a smile, she reach over, kissed her husband, and said, “You’re right, I’m just being crazy. I never expected raising a baby to be so hard. You’re a good man, Roger Goodfellow, putting up with your crazy old wife.”
From the many scattered images the spirit showed him, Edwin saw that despite her doubts, the woman had been kind and had cared for him.
There’s more. Show me what you’re hiding! Edwin wanted to yell.
Then Edwin saw another vision. It was afternoon, summer by the look of it; the window was open, and the woman’s hair was pulled back. She was chopping vegetables in the kitchen, and Edwin saw himself sitting on the floor, a toddler now. When he reached out to touch the fire under the stove, the woman grabbed his arm, and he cried out in pain. She was holding his arm tight and yelling at him, but he was too young to understand her words, and he didn’t know that he had scared her by reaching so close to the fire.
The spirit rushed to the baby, and they bonded. Edwin hadn’t even known they could do that without him saying the words. The woman’s hand began to glow, and she melted into dust. Edwin saw that he had grown taller that day, too, and his spirit’s essence became fuller.
Edwin had expected to see something bad, but the image of Rona Goodfellow turning to dust shocked him.
Wha—I don’t—HOW COULD YOU?
As the memory moved forward, now to Hawthorne and a younger Headmistress Vanora, he became aware of himself mumbling the fortuneteller’s words, and he could see beyond the spirit’s memory, back to the snow and the houses of Chardwick. Floating ever higher, he wanted it to end and tried to scream, but he could no more control what was happening now than he could control his heartbeat. Tears rolled down his cheeks, but still the words came until Edwin felt so sick he began heaving.
His voice caught, just once. It was one small but unmistakable stutter. His mouth continued moving, but he felt a change. The spell had been broken, and heat began building in his chest. He could feel the heat growing, but he still had no control over his body. The snow around him took on a sickening red color as his body began to glow.
The color intensified, turning brighter until it blinded him. Still his mouth moved, but it was no use. The spirit was breaking free. Energy began rushing out of him. A burst of light and air pushed forward, windows exploded, snow incinerated, and he fell to the ground. Blinking his eyes a few times, he realized that he could control them again. It took a moment for everything to come into focus.
He saw the moon first, followed by stars. The clouds above him had vaporized in a perfect circle, and he felt shocked as the weight of what had just happened sunk in.
Sitting in dirt, he found himself surrounded by a snow-crater. Even with the windows blown from the buildings around him, there was no yelling or screaming. There was only the sound of the fair in the distance.
“You petulant boy! You don’t know the forces you messs with,” the spirit said, hovering in front of Edwin’s face, its form crackling menacingly.
“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident,” Edwin stammered. “But how could you do it? How could you kill that woman? And you hid it from me because you knew it was wrong. How could you kill Ashton after that?”
The spirit recoiled. “The firsst time was an accident. I knew you would never forgive me if I showed you. And the boy—you needed to heal. You had to heal. I did what I had to do to save uss.”
“You’re a monster,” Edwin cried, and he scrambled up the snow and ran, leaving the spirit and the crater behind him. He made it several blocks before his lungs gave out and he had to stop.
As he rested, he realized he wasn’t as tired as he should have been. That explosion had used more energy than he had ever attempted on his own, but it was somehow different and for some reason hadn’t drained him much. The spirit caught up with him and floated almost out of sight. It spoke first. “You may blame me if you want, but your well-being hass alwayss been my only concern.”
It was still hard for Edwin to breathe. “I… I don’t even know what else I can say. I’m going back to Hawthorne. Don’t follow me. I can’t even look at you right now.” Not arguing, the spirit stayed out of sight, but Edwin could sense that its presence was never far.
Back at Hawthorne, when he opened the door, he only felt numb when he saw Headmistress Vanora standing outside her office holding Walt by the ear. He could only guess how long she had been waiting, but it had been a while by the look of Walt’s shaking knees.
As she lumbered forward, Walt in tow, Edwin stood at the door and awaited his fate. With her other hand she grabbed Edwin’s ear and dragged them both down to the cellar and placed the boys in opposite cells.
“Your friend tried to lie for you,” she said to Edwin. “Let this be a lesson for the both of you.”
The thought of saying he was out looking for Ashton crossed his mind, that he had been so distraught at losing his roommate that he couldn’t sit around and do nothing, but he kept his mouth shut and blamed the spirit for such a wicked thought. He knew he could be good, truly good, if it would just leave and get out of his life. An angry tear rolled down his cheek.
Without another word, Headmistress Vanora turned the key at Walt’s door, then Edwin’s, and stomped back upstairs.
CHAPTER 16: A HOME FOR MISCHIEF
In a home once belonging to Mikel and Adisen Morrisey, five witches were unpacking their chests. The house was filthy, but the witches’ dresses were unstained, and not a hair atop their heads had fallen out of place.
“I still don’t understand why we must unpack everything ourselves,” said the triplet in red.
“We shan’t waste magic because you’d rather be lazy, Pyre,” Gretchen said. “Patience, sisters. We have time to prepare the house before the twins arrive.”
A second triplet, Meryl, entered with a sponge and bucket, and began scrubbing the stairs. Her bucket quickly turned to mud. “Our child did well,” she remarked.
“Yes, as well as we could have ever hoped. Our child herded the Host to both tents,” Gretchen said.
“He quite fancied you,” said Meryl.
“Yes, and a good thing he went looking for Mina,” Gretchen said. “Now he’s locked away, safe from getting into more trouble.”
“But you’re wrong,” Mina said, joining them from the other room. “His growing connection with his mahr has not gone unnoticed by the forces in the mines. I fear that as his powers grow, we should expect greater instability from the Host’s Tomb.”
Patting Mina’s arm reassuringly, Gretchen said, “I’ve planned for this possibility, sister. We know the villagers’ ways, and my charm will protect him from their stolen magics, if necessary. All that remains is to get the boy to go into the mines, and the Host’s Tomb, its knowledge and legacy, will be ours for the taking. We shall live forever, sisters.”
“And our powers shall be returned to us,” mused Pyre.
“Our powers and more,” said Meryl, still scrubbing the stairs. “All that was denied to us so long. Who would have guessed we would survive the Hosts’ fall and make their legacy our own?”
Gretchen nodded. “Yes, who indeed. But there is still much work to be done, and our risks have grown now that Mina has infused the boy with the Host’s language.”
“I still say that wasn’t wise, and it cost us precious magic we don’t have,” Pyre remarked.
Scoffing, Gretchen said, “The Host’s language will be necessary for the boy to get past the Gate. Now get back to work, Pyre. The children arrive tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 17: A PINCH OF SPICE
Four meals passed before Headmistress Vanora let Walt out, but there were another twenty-three before she opened the door for Edwin. Carrying a lantern, she said gruffly, “Come on out, boy.”
Edwin’s bones cracked as he followed, and he felt heavy under the weight of his own stink. The spirit weaved between his legs, but he was too wary to spurn its advances. At the top of the stairs, Lady Nemain sat in Headmistress Vanora’s office, and her face lit up when she saw him.
“Edwin, let’s go. I’ve got a big afternoon planned for you,” Lady Nemain said.
Momentarily taken aback, he asked, “Where are we going?”
“Never you mind,” Nemain said, frowning at Headmistress Vanora, which Edwin understood to mean that Vanora didn’t know her plans. “But trust me, you’ll like it.”
Cracking his first smile in days, Edwin said, “Would it be all right to change first?”
Headmistress Vanora began speaking: “Boy, when your elder says now, she means now, not—”
Lady Nemain held up her hand in Headmistress Vanora’s face, and said, “You may have five minutes, dear.”
Edwin feared to look to Headmistress Vanora for confirmation and rushed from the room. On the second floor the hall was empty, but Edwin heard a few stifled voices behind closed doors.
Though his room at Hawthorne had always been sparse, it felt emptier without Walt and Ashton there. With no time to waste, Edwin grabbed a change of clothes and towel, rinsed off quickly in the basin, threw on his cloak and a clean uniform, and met Lady Nemain downstairs. Headmistress Vanora was sitting in her office holding her hourglass, looking disappointed that he hadn’t taken longer.
“Goodbye, Headmistress,” Lady Nemain said as she grabbed Edwin’s hand and escorted him from the room.
Outside, the day was overcast and snowing, and the streets were as empty and cold as they had been before the fair. Still wet from washing, Edwin shivered under his cloak. “You certainly haven’t made a friend of the Headmistress,” Nemain remarked.
“I know. Can you tell me where we’re going now?” Edwin asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.
“The Lucent’s mansion. I want you to see something,” Lady Nemain replied, hardly able to keep her own excitement out of her voice. “I tried coming for you sooner, but Vanora insisted that you be punished for sneaking out. Was it worth it?”
Seeing that Lady Nemain had intended the question pleasantly enough, Edwin replied, “Absolutely. I had never been to the fair before. Did they find Ashton?”
A crack appeared in her armor of pleasantry. “No, there has been no sign of him. The Headmistress has taken it especially hard.”
“That’s too bad,” Edwin said. Though it pained him to talk about Ashton, his time in the cellar had given him a chance to plan his next move, and Lady Nemain coming for him was an opportunity—but only if he could act normal and dispel any suspicions she might have about him. Letting an appropriate amount of time pass, he asked, “What about Walt and Sam? Their family came last week?”
“Yes, their aunts have taken residence at the Morrisey House, which is Walt and Sam’s now. An esteemed family, the Morriseys. It’s hard to believe Mikel and Adisen have barely been gone a season.”
“Why didn’t the Lucent take Sam and Walt to stay with him?” Edwin asked.
“The Lucent must show strength, now more than ever, and he can’t be seen as partial to family. It’s a good thing their aunts have come down from Newick. I’ve noticed that you and Walt have grown close; I’m sure you’ll be welcome to visit anytime.”
A weird look crossed her face, and Edwin asked, “What wrong?”
Knowing that she had been caught, Lady Nemain blushed. “Oh, nothing… It’s just… Well, I had a son, and he would be a little older than you if he hadn’t… you know.”
“His name was Finn, wasn’t it?” Edwin asked, and Lady Nemain nodded. “What happened to him?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard what happened fifteen years ago? We had word there was something strange in the mines, and I went to investigate. My husband had Finn when they blew the horn. Our house was right by the square, and they were some of the first outside. After destroying our beloved Great Tree, that monster killed them.” She wiped away a tear. “But that was many years ago now.”
“I’m very sorry, Lady Nemain,” Edwin said, and he grabbed her hand, surprising even himself. “Is that when you became the Mistress of Arms?”
Nemain nodded. “I was always destined for the Council. Our last Master also passed that night with my Finn, and I convinced the Lucent my time to join the Council had come. Some people thought I wasn’t the right person to fill that seat, but I’ve proved them all wrong. I train harder than anyone in Chardwick. You know, Edwin, you have more natural ability with the Fury than anybody I’ve ever known. My seat could be yours someday.” Edwin smiled awkwardly, and she added, �
�I’m serious! That’s partially what I wanted to show you today. Come, we’re almost to the mansion. I didn’t tell anyone I was bringing you, so try not to be loud.”
Edwin nodded, and Lady Nemain picked up her pace. They crossed the village square quickly, and entered the Lucent’s mansion silently, with Lady Nemain getting them past the guards with a wave of her hand.
“This place is huge,” Edwin whispered, but Lady Nemain hushed him. All of the Medgard’s inn could have fit in the antechamber, and he followed her up a wide marble staircase and down a long hall. Stopping at a door on the right, she put one finger up to her lips, quietly pushed the door open, and they slid inside, at which point Edwin had to stop himself from gasping. Rather than a room, the door opened onto a narrow viewing area, and he found himself looking over a ledge at an arena below with a scene that shocked him.
“Good, the Lucent isn’t here,” Lady Nemain said, visibly relaxing. “And better still, the Shades are training.”
“Who are they?” Edwin asked, moving to the ledge to get a closer look.
“Don’t get too close!” Lady Nemain said, holding him back just in time for a burst of fire to go sweeping by his face, almost close enough to singe his hair.
“What—How did they—?” Edwin stammered, but he already knew the answer and his heart leapt. They had powers like he did.
Two boys stood back-to-back in the middle of the arena—brothers, by the look of it, each with a shock of flaming red hair—shooting streams of fire at two girls. One girl with jet-black hair ducked behind one of the arena’s many stone barriers, but the other girl, short and with a shaved head, licked a black powder from her finger and the air around her shimmered. Before the fire reached her, she raised a funnel of wind that grabbed the fire and hurled it back to the brothers.
The Dark Passenger (Book 1) Page 15