Daughter of Chaos

by Sarah Rees Brennan

  “No kidding, farm boy,” said Nick. “A bad-luck spirit was running the tea shop. I think she influenced the mortals who ate there.”

  “Why would a bad-luck spirit run a tea shop?” Harvey demanded. “Magic is so weird! Why would some luck demon want people to know about witches?”

  “She was a witch-hunter before she was a demon,” Nick said, his voice mild. “So I intend to keep your father under control.”

  A witch-hunter. Harvey felt the same guilty unease he had when Prudence looked at him, when he found out witch-hunters killed Ambrose’s dad.

  “It’s good that you didn’t eat much at that place,” Nick continued. “You seem mostly unaffected. Sabrina and Prudence banished the luck demon, and that should have solved the problem, but it didn’t. We’re going to work out why. For now, stay home. I’ll monitor your father, and we should ward your house. I’ll sleep here tonight. We should put lemons in the doorways.”

  “Garnishing my doors will hold off the tea shop demon?” Harvey muttered. “Magic definitely isn’t getting more normal.”

  As Nick conjured lemons into existence, and they hung them in the doorways like bright yellow mistletoe, Harvey remembered that Roz had eaten her éclair. He couldn’t point a warlock Roz’s way. He’d call Roz tomorrow. He’d figure out what he could do.

  “Nick, I don’t want to stay at home,” said Harvey. “I want to help.”

  Nick, standing on a chair to hang up a lemon, gave him a look equal parts superior and amused. “Against a demon? You’d die, and Sabrina would be sad.”

  “I’m not helpless,” Harvey insisted.

  Nick’s smile filled with evil mockery. “You’re our delicate little teacup.”

  “Seriously,” said Harvey. “If people are in trouble, I want to protect them.”

  Nick teleported off the chair rather than hopping down. He was suddenly standing with his hands on the chairback, meeting Harvey’s eyes, his point made.

  “Seriously,” Nick said. “You’re a mortal. What could you possibly do?”

  Harvey wished that he had an answer. He didn’t. He knew despair was written all over his face.

  “Listen,” Nick continued. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are? Sabrina sang to you. She loves you. She wants to protect you. Nobody ever came to save me. Do you know what I would give to have what you have?”

  “Have it, then,” Harvey snapped. “I don’t want it. That’s what you want. This works out great for you.”

  His brother had loved him, protected him, and died. Sabrina had lied. Harvey couldn’t bear the idea of being loved that way any longer. Love like that was love for a feeble child who could never give anything in return.

  There was a terrible silence. Nick seemed at a loss for words.

  Arguing with Nick was pointless. Nick didn’t care whether Harvey lived or died. Sabrina was the one who wanted to protect Harvey. He had to convince her he could be something more than a burden.

  He didn’t know how.

  Even if he talked to Sabrina, it wouldn’t change the fact he was mortal. He can do everything for Sabrina, better than you could dream, Prudence whispered in his memory. You have nothing a witch needs.

  Frustration and misery coiled darkly in his chest, wanting to lash out, but Nick hadn’t done anything wrong. Nick was doing his best, for Sabrina. Harvey didn’t want to be cruel to Nick.

  “You said …” Harvey cleared his throat. “You said nobody came for you.”

  Nick’s response made Harvey remember days out hunting in the woods. Nick had the look of a wild thing, suddenly trapped.

  “I don’t want to talk about it!”

  “For what it’s worth,” said Harvey, “I wish someone had come.”

  He went to his room and started looking through the shelves at the top of his wardrobe till he’d produced a graphic T-shirt and some sweats, along with the blanket and pillow he’d given Nick last time. He tossed the blanket and pillow on the floor by his bed, and tossed the clothes to Nick, who caught them.

  “You can stay. Sleep in these. Captain America’s my favorite, but I figured you’re more of an Iron Man guy.”

  “Wow,” marveled Nick. “What are you talking about?”

  “There are a lot of movies,” said Harvey. “It’d take too long to explain.”

  Harvey went to the bathroom and changed into sweats and the Nightmare on Elm Street shirt Sabrina had bought him. He wore the shirt for comfort, because it was from her, but tonight there was not much comfort to be found in the thought of creeping horror in a small town.

  Among his drawings of monsters and adventures and superheroes, there were hundreds of sketches of Sabrina, Roz, and Susie through the years. When Harvey came back, Nick was looking through them, fanning the sketches out in a sheaf in his hand.

  “Sabrina’s so little! Did she always wear the hairband?”

  “For as long as I can remember,” said Harvey. “She likes to be tidy.”

  Nick held up the picture Harvey had been drawing when Nick knocked on the door.

  “I saw ’Brina earlier,” Harvey explained. “In Dr. Cerberus’s.”

  Drawing the picture of her, in her bright red coat with her snow-white hair, had felt as soothing as stroking her cat. Drawing her made the shadows crowding his mind dissolve.

  Nick regarded the picture affectionately. “This is great.”

  Harvey grinned. “Thanks.”

  It was nice of Nick to take an interest. Harvey’s grandpa had suggested burning his drawings once.

  “’Brina is not a great nickname,” continued Nick. “’Brina sounds like something you would call a fish.”

  Apparently, it would kill Nick to be nice for more than one minute.

  “It’s a pet name! Clearly, witches don’t understand pet names.”

  Nick looked annoyed. “I call her Spellman sometimes.”

  “Her last name?” asked Harvey. “Like you’re both dudes at a British boarding school?”

  Nick made a face at him, and then got distracted by another picture.

  “That other girl.” Nick tapped a picture of Roz when she was younger and wore her hair in twists. “I saw her in the movie theater. You like her?”

  “I love Roz.”

  Nick turned over another sketch. “She wants you.”

  Harvey said, “I don’t understand.”

  “What’s to understand, mortal?” Nick raised an eyebrow. “She wants you.”

  He couldn’t fathom half the weird stuff going on in Nick’s mind. “Uh … no, she doesn’t.”

  “Uh …” Nick mimicked Harvey’s voice, “yes she does. I saw you two from outside the theater. One look at her, looking at you, and I knew.”

  “She’s my friend!”

  “So? What’s the problem? I think she’s attractive. Don’t you think she’s attractive?”

  He’d never thought much about anybody being attractive. He’d met Sabrina when he was five, on their first day of school. He’d been too scared to talk to the other kids. His dad said he was always saying dumb things. She’d spoken to him first, and he’d stared mutely, overcome with adoration.

  It had always been Sabrina for him.

  Now he tried out the idea of Roz being attractive. He was surprised to find it easier than he would’ve thought. The prospect of someone good-looking who he didn’t know at all left him cold. But if he thought about holding Roz in the movie theater, he could appreciate the soft warmth of her in his arms, the cloud of her sweet-smelling hair against his face. Being close to Roz in whatever way, admiring her in whatever way, didn’t seem impossible. He’d always loved her so much.

  “Roz is beautiful,” Harvey said quietly. Then he shook his head to clear out the weird thoughts. “But there’s nothing like that between us!”

  “Then why sweep her off her feet?” Nick asked. “That was a move.”

  “That was not a move! Why does everything with witches have to be sexy-weirdness city? Shut up and go to sleep, Nicholas.”
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  Nick settled on the floor after a period of minimal grumbling. Harvey was finally able to rest.

  Relentless questions about personal matters aside, it was okay to have someone else there. He hadn’t been sleeping well. Night after night, he closed his eyes and he was in the mines again, watching them collapse around him. He was terrified, and Tommy was shoving him. Tommy—who’d never raised his voice to Harvey in his life—Tommy screamed at him to run, Harvey, go—

  Usually he woke himself up calling for his brother.

  Tonight, he was woken by something else. It was a sound of distress, but not Harvey’s. He levered himself up on one elbow and blinked around the darkened room, trying to work out what was going on.

  “No,” Nick said from the floor. “No. I don’t want—”

  Harvey slid out of bed and onto the floor. He shook Nick. “Wake up.”

  Nick went from sleep to a snake-strike recoil, shuddering back with his hand thrown up to protect himself or to cast a spell, until he saw there was no threat.

  “Hey,” said Harvey. “What’s wrong?”

  Nick coughed painfully, as though there were sulfur fumes caught in his throat. “Nothing. It’s an honor to be visited by Satan when you sleep.”

  “Oh yeah?” Harvey’s voice almost failed him. “Sounds great.”

  In the moonlight Nick’s eyes were like those of a ghost you might see through your window, scratching at the glass to be let in. He looked haunted, not honored.

  Nick said, tightly controlled: “He checks up on me sometimes, about doing his bidding.”

  “What exactly is Satan asking you to do?”

  Nick shook his head, and then pressed his forehead down against his knees. Harvey hesitated, and patted him on the back.

  Nick looked up. “It was lonely in the mountains.”

  The expression Nick wore was awful. Harvey nodded uncertainly.

  “When I dream …” Nick said. “It seems lonely in hell. I don’t want to go.”

  Gently as he could, Harvey said: “You don’t have to go, Nick.”

  Nick settled back down on the floor, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I want to stay here. With Sabrina.”

  Harvey couldn’t imagine wanting to stay in Greendale, but he’d never considered hell as an alternative location.

  He let Nick sleep, went to his desk, and sat looking at his drawing of Sabrina in the moonlight.

  People all over town were talking about witches. Satan was telling people what to do in their dreams, and Sabrina would never let anyone tell her what to do. Every day Greendale grew more dangerous. It was as if their town was built on a volcano, and they were slowly realizing the clouds in the sky were smoke.

  Something had to be done.

  Nick’s voice came back to Harvey, clear and cold.

  You’re a mortal. What could you possibly do?

  He woke the second time to morning light and knocking on the door, and thought confusedly that it must be Nick, when Nick made a sad sound from the floor. “Make the noise die.”

  Witches weren’t great at mornings. That made sense.

  Harvey climbed out of bed and went to answer the door. He found Susie on his porch, bundled up for the cold, short hair ruffled and nose bright pink from being nipped by the icy fingers of the wind.

  “Oh, hey, Sooz,” said Harvey.

  Susie grinned up at him. “Hey, Harv. Can you come out for a bit?”

  “Yeah!” Harvey said. “Of course. Uh, wait a second.”

  If he went to his room to get changed, Susie would follow him to chat, and be surprised by the witch on the floor. Harvey eyed his own bedroom door apprehensively.

  Susie noticed.

  “Harvey … do you have someone in your room?”

  “Have you ever met me,” said Harvey, instead of answering.

  Susie nodded. “Good point. Silly question. Hey, why are lemons hanging on your doors?”

  “When life gives you lemons …” said Harvey, and ducked into the bathroom, where he changed into yesterday’s clothes and emerged to grab his coat. “Where did you want to go?”

  “Actually, Harv …” said Susie. “I was hoping we could grab your dad’s guns and shoot some cans. My dad would notice if there was a gun missing from the cabinet, he keeps them locked up, but I know you guys have them lying around loose.”

  It was an unusual request. Susie got pretty stern about gun safety and protocols on the farm. Harvey had relayed this information to his dad, but his grandpa and his dad were both very firm on keeping guns close at hand by the door. Harvey had never understood, not until he learned about the witches.

  Susie looked awkward, which Susie didn’t usually. Not around him. They’d known each other so long, they had the comfort of a favorite worn piece of clothing. Harvey remembered the first day of school when Sabrina was off “sick”—probably being taught Latin or some other witch thing—and they were all little. He was still new to school, and he’d figured that without Sabrina he wouldn’t be welcome. He lurked by the bicycle shed until Susie and Roz came to find him. Roz gave him a hug around the middle and told him they’d been worried. Susie grinned up at him, monkey face mischievous, and said: “What’d you think you were doing? Wow, you’re a dumbass.”

  When they were eight, Sabrina and Roz got matching bracelets and talked about being best friends. Harvey was crestfallen, since he wanted Sabrina to pick him first for everything, but he knew Roz would be a better best friend. Anyway, probably being a boy meant he was disqualified as a best friend.

  Sabrina and Roz had gone up ahead on the path home to tell each other best friend secrets, and he’d stared wistfully after them. Then Susie kicked him in the ankle.

  “Hey,” Susie said. “Guess we’ll be best friends, huh?”

  Harvey’d grinned, shocked and charmed, and they fist-bumped to seal the deal. They didn’t get bracelets, but they had a best-buds handshake. Sometimes they practiced shooting together, or he helped design Susie’s costumes. He knew Susie wouldn’t have chosen him. Susie’d got stuck with him, but Susie was a good sport about it.

  “Sure,” Harvey said now. “Let’s go shoot some cans.”

  They got the guns and went out into the woods, to a fence where a lot of guys shot cans. They collected some cans, rusted and with rainwater leaking out of the bullet holes, and set them up.

  Harvey let Susie shoot first. Susie was a good shot, farm-raised and bred. Susie wouldn’t be appalled at the idea of shooting a deer.

  Susie got a couple of cans and Harvey whistled. He almost wished he’d brought his sketchbook with him, but it was difficult to draw Susie. Susie always seemed slightly upset when he tried. Harvey’d tried several different ways, but he clearly wasn’t getting it right.

  Susie kept shooting, intent and intense. When Susie’s gun was out of bullets, Harvey offered the one he was holding.

  Susie was breathing hard. “Do you not wanna shoot?”

  “I’m good,” said Harvey.

  When both guns were out of bullets, Susie went and kicked the fence so all the cans toppled off. Then Susie turned back to him.

  “You’re probably wondering where I’ve been the last few days.”

  “Oh, well, I thought …” said Harvey. “I thought since Sabrina and I are broken up, you and Roz might be putting some distance between me and the group. Which I totally understand.”

  Susie stared. “Wow, you’re a dumbass.”

  The incredulous tone of Susie’s voice made Harvey smile. He still had one friend.

  “Remember my job as a Christmas elf?” Susie asked.

  “Sure, I came to see you,” said Harvey. “You looked totally cool.”

  Susie’d always loved costumes, for Christmas or Halloween or a party. Whenever Susie wore them, Harvey’d noticed Susie looked relieved. He guessed sometimes it was nice to have a break from being yourself.

  “Yeah, my boss turned out to be a demon and tried to kill me,” said Susie. “Sabrina and her aunts saved me, but
Greendale’s crawling with darkness, turns out! Ghosts and witches and demons and—and everything.”

  Susie’s chin trembled. Not for the first time, Harvey was struck by absolute terror for the handful of people he loved who were still living.

  “I’m so sorry, Sooz,” he said. “I shouldn’t have got into my own head about this. I should’ve been there for you.”

  “You have your own stuff going on,” said Susie. “I know that. But, Harv … that’s why I wanted to come shooting with you. Sabrina and her aunts won’t always be there to protect me. I got lucky, but—I have a feeling bad things are coming. We must be able to defend ourselves. And Roz. Harvey, she can’t shoot. She can’t see.”

  Harvey stared at Susie’s tiny form, standing firm holding an empty gun. He thought of Roz helpless in his arms. Loathing for magic swelled up in him, and the burning urge to gather them up somehow, every beloved one in danger, and protect them.

  Susie was scrutinizing him anxiously. “Harv? You with me?”

  Harvey cleared his throat. “I’m with you. We’re in this fight together.”

  They did the best-buds handshake. Susie grinned and punched Harvey in the arm. He took his gun, and they walked back to the house side by side. He reloaded the guns before he put them up by the door, like his dad always said.

  While he did so, Susie sat, legs tucked up, on the sofa opposite the door. When he turned, he saw Susie’s fists were clenched, and he was puzzled. Susie was always ready to fight, but there was nothing to be fought right now.

  “I wasn’t just sitting in my house shaking because of a Yule demon,” Susie said. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I didn’t get my hair cut because I was hiding under the covers, and my dad said that if my hair grew out … I’d look great, like Sabrina and Roz. He meant I’d look girly.”

  “You’re a great girl the way you are,” Harvey said instantly.

  There was a pause.

  “But …” Susie said, very low. “What if I wasn’t?”

  “Huh?” asked Harvey.

  Then realization struck. Susie was great, there was no question about that … so it was the “girl” part Susie was having problems with.

  People in school noticed that there was something different about Susie. That was why they always acted like jerks. Their group had noticed too. They hadn’t been certain what those differences meant. Roz, Sabrina, and he had held a few discussions, in which Roz talked about the possibilities: being butch, being nonbinary, being several other terms Harvey hadn’t understood. He’d done some reading and got worried about pronouns.