Daughter of Chaos

by Sarah Rees Brennan

  “Growing your hair out, Susie? Thank God. Finally you’ll look more like a girl.”

  Susie flinched. Roz bristled and searched for Harvey, who would help her hold Susie back.

  Then she remembered Harvey wasn’t here, and it was her own fault.

  She secured a firm grip on Susie’s arm and shook her head urgently to suggest that a brawl at the movies wasn’t the answer.

  Susie’s face twisted in fury, but she nodded. Her mouth flattened into a straight line. “Can you hear a buzzing sound, Roz? Like an annoying fly.”

  Roz was so proud of Susie. They go low, we go high!

  “I can’t, Susie. But that sure does sound annoying. Let’s go over there right now.”

  “Cool!” said Susie. “Incidentally, I’m planning to get a buzz cut. What do you think?”

  Roz nodded encouragement. “I think you’ll look great.”

  “Wait,” said Billy, who was apparently determined to bother Susie whenever he saw her. He caught Susie’s other arm.

  Roz contemplated getting the manager.

  “Billy!” exclaimed Susie, as if she’d just spotted him. “Somebody punched you in the face! Please tell me who this real-life superhero was.”

  Billy scowled. “Why?”

  “Because I need to shake their hand,” said Susie. “And tell them I’m in love with them now.”

  Billy scowled harder. “I walked into a door.”

  “Wow,” Susie remarked cheerfully. “Can’t believe I’m in love with a door, but here we are.”

  “Could you let up, Putnam?” Billy demanded.

  Susie and Roz both spoke at once.

  “Me let up—” Susie sputtered.

  “Hey, you were the one who started harassing Susie!”

  “Anyway!” said Billy. “We’ve got to band together, even the freaks, against the real threat.”

  “What threat?” asked Susie. “What band? Listen, Billy, if you’re in one band, let me tell you, I’m in the other band. I might even call my band Any Band but Billy’s Band.”

  “Even if the other side are witches?” Billy demanded.

  Roz went still.

  “Absolutely. I’m with the witches!” raged Susie, who couldn’t be stopped when she was in a temper. Then she blinked. “Wait, what? Explain now.”

  Billy opened his mouth to do so, but a woman in a brown coat elbowed him in the side. She was middle-aged and wearing pearls. Roz recognized her from her dad’s church, but she couldn’t remember her name.

  “Shhh,” the woman hushed Billy. “You heard them. They’re with the witches. I know Rosalind. She’s hand-in-glove with that horrible Sabrina creature.” She shot Roz a glare. “Your father would be very disappointed in you.”

  A chill passed through Roz. It felt like a ghost murmuring in her ear.

  She knew her father and Sabrina’s aunt Zelda weren’t similar people, even before Roz realized Zelda worshipped Satan. But her dad and Zelda Spellman possessed the same certainty that they were never wrong. When they were about eight, Roz and Sabrina got talking about how it felt, to have the adults in your life expecting you to become the kind of people they already were.

  “I don’t know what kind of person I want to be,” Sabrina had said, swinging on the swing opposite Roz’s. “Not yet. But I want the chance to figure out who to be. Do you know what you want to be?”

  Roz considered, and said eventually: “Let’s be good people.”

  Sabrina smiled in the dazzling way she did when she was confident she had the right answer. She reached out for Roz so they could swing with their hands linked together.

  “Let’s be good people,” she echoed. “And best friends.”

  Roz could think dark thoughts about Sabrina herself. She could imagine retribution against witches, but when she heard someone else badmouthing Sabrina, she didn’t feel vindicated. Her first impulse was outrage. Not my bestie. Don’t you dare!

  “She’s not,” Roz said now, unable to help herself.

  “Not what?” the woman said. “Not a witch?”

  Roz went silent. She wished she could talk to her grandmother, who made everything to do with Sabrina and witches seem so clear, but her grandmother and her grandmother’s wisdom were gone. Roz had to be wise on her own. She wasn’t sure how. Her head hurt so much.

  The churchgoing woman and Billy moved off, heads bent together, talking intensely.

  Susie’s small face was screwed up in distress. “Should we warn Sabrina? Or her aunts?”

  “Warn them about what?” Roz asked. “People always talk. I’ve heard people call the Spellmans witches before now.”

  “Not Billy,” exclaimed Susie. “Not as if they meant it!”

  “It doesn’t mean anything will happen.”

  Susie still looked worried. Roz bit her lip.

  “If everybody did find out about witches … would that be so bad?”

  “What would happen?”

  Susie sounded extremely anxious. It was different for Susie, Roz thought. Susie had no reason to be afraid of magic. No witch had cursed Susie’s family. Susie thought of witches as friends. Sabrina and her aunts had helped Susie, and Susie would want to help them in return.

  Don’t let her tell them. The thought was almost a hiss, going through Roz’s brain.

  That made sense, Roz told herself. Susie was always getting into fights. She could be hurt. It was Roz’s job to hold her back. The witches could take care of themselves.

  “I don’t know what would happen if everybody found out about witches,” Roz admitted. “But maybe everybody should. People deserve the truth.”

  Susie flushed and nodded.

  “Listen,” Roz continued. “You trust me, don’t you?”

  Susie’s eyes went wide. “Of course.”

  “That woman talking to Billy goes to my dad’s church,” Roz said. “I’ll ask around and find out what’s going on. There’s no need to worry Sabrina or her aunts. Keep quiet for now, will you, Susie? I promise, if something bad is happening, I’ll stop it.”

  Susie hesitated for a long time. Eventually, she nodded.

  That’s her dealt with, Roz thought, and shook her aching head to clear it.

  They heard murmurs in the bathroom, and then again as they were taking their seats. Nothing direct, nothing addressed to them, but whispers flew through the air like leaves.

  The witches.

  The witch in the alleyway.

  Something should be done about the witches.

  Greendale always was a spooky little town.

  They’d picked a rom-com because Roz felt they both needed comfort, sunshine, and unlikely hijinks right now.

  The room was packed with people, frost melting off their winter coats. There was so much ice and darkness outside, it was surreal to see the movie begin with a crash of waves and a burst of sunshine. Even if it was false light, Roz enjoyed seeing it.

  Until pain shot through her temples, and her vision wavered and betrayed her. All she saw was shadows, and all she felt was panic. Someday soon the shadows would close in and she’d be trapped. She’d never see anything ever again. Because of what the witches had done to her.

  If everyone found out about the witches, maybe someone would stop them. Maybe someone should.

  Roz tried to control her breathing. She didn’t want to scare Susie. Susie had been through enough in the last few days. She should let Susie enjoy the movie.

  The walls wavered and loomed in the dark. Roz couldn’t stay here.

  “Bathroom,” she gasped, and lurched to her feet.

  She made her way out, muttering frantic apologies as she stepped on and scrambled over people. Even when she pushed the door open, the gray smudges over her vision only paled and didn’t vanish.

  She groped for a handhold she couldn’t find. She shouldn’t have come out alone.

  Shadows spinning about her, Roz lurched dizzily through the corridor and crashed into someone passing by.

  “Sorry!” she exclaime
d, clinging for sheer support. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why be sorry?” a boy’s voice asked. “I’m all for beautiful women throwing themselves into my arms. Right now, I’m otherwise committed and a little busy, but …”

  He trailed off. Roz was trying to place his voice. As faces faded out of her sight, she’d been getting better at recognizing people by voices or gestures or certain clothes. Greendale was a small town, and the townsfolk were people of habit.

  His voice was distinctive. She couldn’t place the accent. She didn’t recognize it at all.

  Roz realized she was being embraced by a total stranger.

  “Hang on,” said the stranger. “Are you under a curse?”

  What remained of her breath left her as if she’d been hit. She was in the arms of a witch.

  He guided her and she stumbled, not knowing where he was taking her, until he deposited her firmly in the seats by the door. Sitting down again, Roz felt more secure, but then the stranger touched her face, hands tilting up her chin as though he might kiss her. Roz’s heart felt like a caged bird, wild with panic, slamming against the bars.

  “Oh, that’s a curse all right,” he remarked, his tone brisk. “Very strong. Ancestral, is it?”

  Roz nodded, barely breathing.

  “Nothing I can do about the curse, I’m afraid,” he continued. “But I can ease the symptoms temporarily.”

  Roz sat there, trembling, her fists clenched tight. She felt the stranger come close.

  “In the name of the fair,” he whispered in her ear. “Do beauty a kindness. Mercy doth her eyes repair. Help her of her blindness.”

  The pain in Roz’s temples eased. The shadows were fading and retreating, and her panic with them.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, stunned.

  She still couldn’t make out his face. She only heard his footsteps as he walked away. Before he did, he spoke again, his low voice slightly amused.

  “Call it a random act of kindness. I’ve heard everyone needs kindness.”

  Roz shut her eyes, willing her vision to return. When she opened them, light poured in. Stark fluorescent light, but it still seemed sweet. So did the faces of Susie and, incredibly, Harvey, both emerging from different movies. Harvey was looking around wildly, but he went still when his eyes found Roz.

  “Roz,” Susie called out. “You didn’t come back, so I was worried …”

  Susie trailed off upon catching sight of Roz. She felt better, but she must look shaken, because Harvey and Susie came running. Harvey, with considerably longer legs, got there first.

  “Are you all right? Roz, is it your eyes?”

  He grasped her shoulder gently, studying her face. It was a far less intimate touch than the strange boy’s, but the stranger’s touch had felt impersonal, and this wasn’t. This was Harvey.

  She could see him, clearer than she’d been able to for months, the affection and concern plain on his face. Roz almost sobbed with relief.

  “I’m okay,” she assured them both. “I’m really fine.”

  Susie was frowning in Harvey’s direction. “Were you watching a horror movie by yourself?”

  “Uh,” said Harvey, “just for a minute there.”

  Susie made a face. “You don’t even like horror movies, Harv. Why didn’t you come with us?”

  Harvey exchanged an awkward glance with Roz as he climbed to his feet, letting go of her shoulder. “I didn’t know if I was welcome.”

  Susie looked at Harvey as if he was deranged. “You’re always welcome, jackass.”

  Susie elbowed Harvey in the ribs. Harvey grinned down into Susie’s face. Roz felt supremely guilty. She didn’t want to mess up anything between them. Susie and Harvey had always been total bros.

  “Thanks, Sooz. Since I’m here, I’ll give you guys a ride home.”

  “You don’t have to,” Roz muttered.

  “I’m gonna,” said Harvey. “You’re not even taking one step outside this movie theater when you aren’t well.”

  “How am I supposed to— Harvey, no!”

  Harvey leaned down, slid one arm around Roz and one arm under her legs, and scooped her up out of her seat.

  Susie whooped and clapped. “Harvey, yes!”

  Roz made a fist and thumped Harvey’s chest, alarmed both by his closeness and the immediate concern that she wasn’t tiny like Sabrina or Susie.

  “You can’t!”

  He gave her his familiar smile, crooked as though he was always torn between several feelings at once. “I can.”

  He started walking, carrying her easily in his arms and out into the night. She hadn’t known Harvey was this strong.

  Susie trotted by Harvey’s side, taking hold of Roz’s dangling boot and swinging it as though it were her hand. “You heard the man, Roz. Don’t worry about it. We’ve got you.”

  Hesitantly, Roz clasped her hands behind Harvey’s neck.

  “Susie’s right,” she told him in a whisper. “You’re always welcome.”

  He ducked his head and smiled. He always looked surprised when he was happy, and astonished when he was loved. It broke her heart. Roz’s dad was no picnic, but she never doubted he adored her. Harvey’s dad was so awful, Harvey doubted everything: constantly worrying that he wasn’t brave enough, smart enough, that nobody could really like him.

  She wanted to kiss him so much. He would never guess. She could never tell him.

  Because of Sabrina.

  A dark voice in her head whispered: That witch.

  I dreamed I was kissing Harvey on the steps of my house with autumn leaves whirling around us. My new necklace was shining around my throat and his face was shining too, lifted up to mine. My hands curled around his collar as he whirled me off my feet and told me that he loved me, loved me, loved me.

  Golden leaves turned to golden lights, a Ferris wheel spinning behind us at the summer festival. Harvey looked up at me, scared for a moment, until he smiled. I promised myself that no matter what, I would never hurt Harvey. I would never make him feel afraid.

  But you did, said my own voice, as though I’d whispered in my own ear. He trusted you, and you hurt him worse than anyone else.

  The lights and sweetness of summer dissolved, and I was sitting across from Harvey on a long, dark winter night, telling him what I’d done to Tommy. I heard Harvey’s voice break as he tried to understand.

  Suddenly I was weeping in the girls’ bathroom, telling Roz and Susie what I was, and Roz and Susie didn’t turn away as I’d always feared they might. They embraced me instead. I clung to them, my face hidden in Roz’s shoulder, my arm tight around Susie’s waist. I didn’t know what I would do without them.

  Then my friends went up in flames. They burned with hellfire, as the Greendale Thirteen had burned, because of me. I screamed and screamed, but I couldn’t change what I’d done. They were lost because I’d tried to hold on to them. They were ashes in my arms.

  I woke with a jerk, flinging out a hand. Maybe to shield myself, maybe to reach out. Even I wasn’t sure. I hit my hand against the barrier of the window and cringed back from the sudden sharp pain. I must have bitten my tongue because my mouth was filled with the taste of blood.

  On the window, where my palm had rested, there was an icy handprint struck against the glass. I stared at the glass and tried not to imagine what would have happened if I were reaching for a mortal I loved.

  I stretched and rose from the window seat where I’d fallen asleep, curled up with a book on spells to defy Satan. I paced my bedroom floor. As I passed by my mirror with its frame of white roses, I thought I saw a ghost in the glass.

  It wasn’t a ghost. It was only me, my face pale as my new hair. I thought again of my golden-haired mother.

  I’d always known I wasn’t like her. Not really. How could I be? I’d grown up in a house of witches.

  I crawled onto my bed, still wearing my fluffy bunny slippers. The next moment, Ambrose whirled in. He was laughing as though some invisible imp had whispered
a joke in his ear, though that might be the mouse familiar in his pocket.

  “Evening, cousin.”

  “Not really, anymore.”

  Ambrose waved a hand. “I was going to talk to you in the evening.”

  There’d been too many emergencies lately. My stomach clenched with alarm, and my voice went sharp. “About what? Why didn’t you?”

  My cousin paused. “Because my life doesn’t revolve around you.”

  I bit my lip. “I know that.”

  “Sometimes I wonder,” Ambrose murmured, but his voice was light enough. “I have a whole wildly exciting existence independent of yours. Guess who Prudence called sexy the other day? This guy. She’s right, and she should say it.”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  “Yes, well. Tonight Luke and I were occupied.”

  I grinned. “Playing Scrabble, no doubt.”

  “Let’s just say I got a triple word score and leave it at that.”

  Ambrose swaggered forward, clasping ringed hands around the post at the foot of my bed. He was wearing a bronze silk shirt and leather pants. It was still new and wonderful to see Ambrose dressed to go outside, rather than in fancy pajamas. Father Blackwood had recently lifted his house arrest, and Ambrose was technically only meant to go to the Academy of Unseen Arts and back, but Ambrose never did play by the rules. He was taking full advantage of his new freedom. I figured he’d dragged Luke to the movies this evening. Luke hadn’t seemed impressed by the idea of a mortal activity.

  “How was the movie?” I asked.

  “Cut short,” said Ambrose.

  “Why?”

  His gaze traveled over my face, brows drawing together. “Don’t worry about it. What’s wrong with you?”

  I sighed. “Sorry I was snippy. I did something cool this morning, and I thought I’d feel better about fixing a problem.”

  I’d done something on my own, for a change. Well, with Prudence’s help, but I hadn’t dragged my family into my worries this time. I was trying to do better for them. I should feel like a whole new witch, powerful and capable.

  But banishing the bad-luck demon hadn’t lifted my mood. I leaned against my pillows and stuffed toys and recalled how I used to lean against Harvey when I was studying, my back fitting against his chest. He’d stay like that for hours, a warm support for me, whispering occasional sweetness in my ear.