Nick snarled, “I won’t let you upset Sabrina!”
They could hear Sabrina’s footsteps returning. The cold anger left Nick’s face.
“He didn’t do it,” he said, low and rapid. “I swear by hellfire and blood. Trust me.”
“Oh,” whispered Prudence. “But I don’t trust anybody, Nick. Least of all you.”
Sabrina came back to find them staring intently at their books.
“I found a book on a demon called Murmur,” she said. “That seems right, doesn’t it, with the bad-luck spirit talking about whispers? He’s only a great duke of hell, not a prince. How important is the hierarchy of hell? Should we be looking at dukes?”
“Maybe,” said Nick thoughtfully. “But nobody below an earl.”
Satan wept, that meant more books. Prudence wasn’t Nick. She didn’t have time for all this reading. She was busy being radiant and awe-inspiring as the dawn.
She kept reading, though her head hurt. She worried Judas was crying with nobody to hear him, but she’d fed him and she couldn’t do any more.
When she reached for another book, she saw Nick watching Sabrina with that strange new look in his eyes.
“Sabrina,” he said. “If a witch-hunter came for me, and you were there, what would you do?”
“I’d protect you,” Sabrina answered promptly.
“Why would you do that?” Nick asked, his voice soft.
“Because you’re my friend, and I care about you,” said Sabrina. “I’d never abandon you. I’d die first. And because it’s the right thing to do, if anyone was in trouble.”
Nick waved off the last part as boring.
“Back to that first thing you were saying …” he said, beginning to smile.
“I’d leave you to die,” Prudence announced icily. “Any true witch would. I hope the witch-hunter would be so busy slaughtering you that I’d get away. You have to look out for yourself first. Everyone else does. No matter what they pretend.”
Sabrina’s face filled with outraged virtue. Prudence couldn’t read Nick’s expression.
“But then, I’m not your friend, Nicholas.” She saw the slight flicker in his eyes and sneered. “Did you think I was? How pathetic.”
She pushed her chair back from the table and went to find a book about the earls of hell.
Through the stacks piled in the shelves, she heard Sabrina murmur to Nick: “Don’t mind her. It’s the worry talking. Maybe also … her personality. She should remember you were hurt and be gentle with you.”
“Will you be gentle with me?” Nick sounded amused. “There’s no need.”
“I wish there was something I could do for you,” Sabrina muttered.
There was a pause.
“Will you sing to me?” Nick asked.
Sabrina sounded almost as startled as Prudence was. “What?”
“Sing,” Nick coaxed, sweet as sin. “Like when you sang for the Infernal Choir. But just for me.”
Surprise was fading from Sabrina’s voice, replaced by flattered pleasure. “I could do that. Do you mean—a serenade, or a lullaby? Would it have to be a witches’ song, or could it be a mortal one?”
“Anything you want,” said Nick. “As long as it’s you. As long as it’s for me.”
Sabrina sounded like she was smiling. “All right.”
There was the sound of a book closing, then Sabrina began to sing. It was not a song Prudence recognized, so it was presumably mortal. That was disgusting.
Prudence returned to the table, her step slow because she didn’t want to see the hideous scene that was unfolding. She did, all the same. It was even more horrible than she had feared. There was Sabrina, sitting in her chair carved with devils as though it were a throne, singing in her golden fearless voice. And there was Nick Scratch, dark head propped on his arm, adoring her.
There was no saving him. He would follow her to ruin. Prudence could only save herself.
We studied all night. I sang Nick to sleep and left him slumbering while I kept reading. I was starting to think it must be the demon Murmur. Nobody else fit the bill.
I yawned and left the table, wandering through the stacks searching for princes. Aunt Zelda would be so pleased I was devoting myself to my magic studies.
Not if she knew I’d unleashed a prince of hell on Greendale, admittedly.
There was a book on a high shelf, embossed spine reading Pseudomonarchia Daemonum. Before I could snap my fingers to summon it, Nick reached for the volume and put it in my hands. I turned to face him. His hair was falling into his face, his eyes hooded and still sleepy. The library was dim, the night so late it was early, and in the shadows, he was handsomer than ever.
Or maybe it just mattered to me a little more than before, that he was handsome.
I hugged the book to my chest. “I had it.”
“You always have it, Sabrina,” said Nick. “But I like helping you. That book’s a good choice.”
I smiled up at him. “Okay. Thanks.”
Usually he smiled whenever I smiled, but now he was staring at the books on the shelves. As I watched, he ran his fingers lightly over the spines, as though to reassure himself they were there.
“I have to tell you something,” he said. “Because—I should be honest.”
I nodded encouragingly. “Of course.”
Nick hesitated. “You might be angry. I didn’t think it was a big deal at first. It was before I really knew you.”
“We know each other now, right?” I said. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Nick opened his mouth, then shut it. He stared fixedly at a point over my shoulder, out of the great diamond-paned arched window where the night was growing pale.
“Actually, perhaps we should discuss this after you save the town from a prince of hell.”
“You sure?” I asked. “What if I can’t do that? This might be your only chance.”
Nick laughed. “If it’s you, Spellman, a prince of hell will be easy.”
“Thanks for the confidence.”
“Any time,” said Nick.
It sounded like he meant it. Suddenly feeling shy, I nodded.
“Sabrina, can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I whispered.
“If there was someone you knew,” Nick said.
“A friend, do you mean?”
“Maybe something like that,” Nick admitted. “If they were crying …”
He said nothing else. That seemed to be the scenario.
“If my friend was crying, I’d feel terrible,” I said. Nick nodded. “But I’d try to make them feel better by doing something nice for them. And then we’d both feel better. Does that help?”
When I glanced up, Nick was smiling at me. “Yeah.”
“I’m glad, then.” I glanced over my shoulder. “We should be getting back.”
“Wait,” Nick said hastily. “One last thing.”
I looked back at him inquiringly. Nick stepped in, suddenly breathtakingly close, and slid his arm around my waist. He glanced down at me, raising a wicked eyebrow as if to ask whether that was all right. A nervous smile woke on my mouth before I realized.
Nick picked me up by the waist and whirled me around in a circle, then perched me on the sill of the great arched window. My hand flew up involuntarily, to catch at his collar. There was still a trace of blood against the black material. He gazed up at me, with the first light of morning falling on his face.
He could have kissed me. I would have kissed him back. He didn’t.
“I do want to try it,” Nick Scratch murmured. “Love, the mortal way. Sabrina, I really will try.”
I slept in the library, my head pillowed in my arms, and woke to a deserted table and the realization I needed help. I knew I’d be in trouble, but I’d promised myself to stop being afraid. I had to go to Aunt Zelda.
Horribly, I thought I might know where in the Academy I could find her.
Prudence was presumably with her little brother. I didn’t kno
w where Nick was, but I found him while I was walking through the dining hall on my way to Father Blackwood’s. He was sitting at a table eating breakfast with Dorcas, talking to her in his coaxing voice and brushing her red hair out of her eyes. Dorcas was lapping it up.
I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore the twinge in my chest. I should never have expected anything else. Of course Nick Scratch wanted to try love, with whoever was closest.
That wasn’t my idea of love.
“I’m going to Father Blackwood’s chambers,” I told him curtly, stopping by his table. “Try to meet me and Prudence in the library before evening.”
“Sure.” Nick paused. “Something wrong, Spellman?”
“What could be wrong, Scratch?”
I didn’t have time for this. I pulled out my phone and tried calling Roz again.
She didn’t answer. She hadn’t answered yesterday either. I’d called her home and Reverend Walker told me she was sleeping.
I stormed on, through the scarlet lights and stone halls of the Academy. I was worrying about Roz, and fuming over Nick, and I didn’t notice Father Blackwood until I ran into him.
“Sorry, Father Blackwood. Have you seen my aunt Zelda?”
“She is sleeping in my chambers,” said Father Blackwood, his tone hideously possessive. “I fear she is altogether worn out. You shouldn’t trouble her.”
I started forward. “I think Aunt Zelda would want to hear what I have to say.”
I was pulled up short when Father Blackwood caught my shoulder, his grip alarmingly strong. The ends of his pointed nails dug into my skin through my sweater.
“You do insist on troubling people, don’t you, Sabrina?” he asked softly.
There was a strange, sleepwalking glint in his pale eyes.
“There are many ways to be wanton,” he said, tone slightly slurred. “The right way is to walk in the red light of Satan’s eyes and subjugate yourself to his dark glory. Look at Sister Zelda. She has a proud spirit, but it is all the more superb to see a proud spirit bend its will to our dark god, as Lilith did. A woman must choose either to be a Lilith or an Eve, who was ungrateful for the gift the serpent gave her. Don’t you agree?”
“With you?” I said brightly. “Hardly ever.”
“Tongue sharper than a serpent’s tooth on you, girl,” sneered Father Blackwood. “An Eve in our Academy could poison every student within its walls. Sister Zelda has changed from the magnificently heartless girl I once knew, because of you. And I see you getting your claws into Nicholas Scratch. That boy has a darkly shining future ahead of him. He is one of the touched by Satan, who stand very close to our Dark Lord. I can always tell. Nicholas does not need you to drag him off the path of unrighteousness. Why is it that everything you touch is spoiled somehow? Why did Satan want you in my school? Why is the Dark Lord so interested in you, when you’re nothing—an Eve—a weak woman, who should kneel or be crushed?”
The pressure on my shoulder was inexorable. The sharpened nails bit like daggers.
“Take your hand off,” I said. “If Aunt Zelda saw you touch me, she’d kill you.”
Father Blackwood’s blurred eyes became slightly clearer. I saw his gaze dart toward the door of his chamber. He noticed that I saw, and his mouth twisted with fury.
He was afraid of Aunt Zelda, I realized, and he hated it. He liked her because she was unconquerable, and he’d resent her for being unconquerable too. She wasn’t safe with him, not in the long run.
I wasn’t safe with him now. Not with the curse affecting him.
Father Blackwood dug his nails in, then removed his hand. “Let us not admit the curse of Pruflas between us, child. We are both dear to Sister Zelda and should not quarrel.”
He was turning away. I relaxed for an instant, then saw him whirl back with his hand lifted to strike.
“What you should learn, little Eve, is obedience!” thundered Father Blackwood.
His spell never got the chance to land. I was already running at him, both hands upraised. Father Blackwood talked too much.
“Damnum absque injuria!”
Whatever damage he’d planned to do to me would be visited on him. Father Blackwood screamed and fell in a heap on the ground.
“Disobedience has always been my sin of choice,” I said, fixing my hairband. Then I turned and ran back to the library.
Yesterday the mortals had recalled their ancestors’ memories, of secrets used to fight witches.
Today was the second day, the day the witches turned to a dream of hate. If we could lift the curse, Father Blackwood wouldn’t remember I’d struck down the head of the Academy in his own school. For now, I couldn’t go to my aunts or my cousin for help. They might be affected by the spell like the High Priest was.
I was as strong as I needed to be because I stood on certain ground at home. I could always be sure of my family’s love. Now I could bear anything, except seeing them changed by enchantment I’d brought down.
Now, I thought, was the time to trust the friends I’d found in the world of witches. They hadn’t disappointed me yet.
Prudence was already in the library when I returned. I stared at her coolly lovely face, the proud tilt of her chin.
“Are you feeling more hateful than usual?”
“You just walked in, Sabrina,” said Prudence. “So yes.”
She didn’t seem enchanted or unhappy. She sounded the same as ever. It was hard to tell how Prudence felt about anything. (Other than when she was annoyed, which she always made very clear.)
But Nick had talked about a friend crying, and he had to mean Prudence. He was scornful around the other guys, and he talked to Prudence often. I was almost certain he’d been hurt when she said they weren’t friends.
Prudence was going above and beyond to help me. I thought she and I might be friends too.
I came up to her chair and quickly, before I could lose my nerve, I gave her a sideways hug. “If there’s anything bothering you, Prudence, you can tell me.”
Prudence was silent. I squeezed her rigid shoulders, wondering if she was actually touched.
Then she said: “Try to embrace me ever again, Sabrina Spellman, and I will hex off your arms and beat you to death with them.”
I let go fast. “Not a hugger?” I nodded to myself. “Noted. Prudence, I wasn’t really raised as a witch.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Prudence murmured.
“Aunt Hilda didn’t want me to learn to speak like a witch and freak out the mortals at school,” I said. “My family didn’t tell me a lot about witch holidays and customs, or even phrases, until my dark baptism. What does the phrase ‘the curse of Pruflas’ mean?”
Prudence’s hands clenched on the edge of the table.
“It means not to give way to quarrelsomeness,” she answered slowly. “Pruflas is the dark prince of discord and falsehood.”
“A prince,” I repeated. “Is he? Hang on.”
I ran around to my side of the table and found the book Nick had taken off the shelf for me, the Pseudomonarchia Daemonum. I’d been so tired when I was reading it, but now I had a fuzzy recollection of reading a certain name.
“Pruflas,” I read aloud. “A great prince and duke of hell, who causes men to commit quarrels, discord, and falsehood. He should never be admitted to this world. He lives outside the Tower of Babel, attended by …” My voice failed. “Attended by his handmaiden.”
I looked up from my book, and my own fiercely triumphant gaze met Prudence’s. I cradled the book in my arms as if it were a jewel. Better yet, as if it were a weapon.
“We’ve got him, Prudence! Where’s Nick?”
She didn’t actually know where she was going. Her feet seemed to know, negotiating the melted snow on the sidewalk outside her house with more certainty than she’d felt in a long time. The whispers in her ear guided her way. She had a destination; she had a purpose. That was all she needed to know. The witches must be stopped.
“Roz!”
The sound of familiar voices broke through her reverie.
“Hey, Roz!”
The single shining path in front of Roz blurred. Harvey and Susie stood before her, blocking her way. Harvey wore his sheepskin-lined jacket and had his arm around Susie’s neck like a scarf. Susie was carrying take-out boxes.
“We were bringing you snacks from Dr. Cerberus’s,” said Harvey.
His voice, sweet and clear, cut across the whispers. There was sudden discordance in her head.
“I’m not hungry,” Roz snapped. “I don’t want you to baby me.”
The venom in her voice made Harvey step back, as she’d known it would. All Harvey wanted was a chance to cherish and be chosen. If she made him believe he wasn’t welcome, he’d retreat.
Susie stepped forward. “We’re worried about you. You’re not answering anybody’s calls. And you’re acting really strange.”
Roz’s head whirled, trying to think her way around this. She could make Susie stop by insisting she wanted to keep her secrets. She could make Harvey stop by rejecting him. She didn’t know how to stop them both.
And why would she want to? They were her friends.
When she thought of her friends, she remembered Sabrina. Frustrated tears sprang to her eyes. Phrases about blindness crowded her mind. Blinded by tears, blinded by rage. It would be the same result in the end.
“Do you ever get angry with the world?” Roz whispered.
“All the time,” said Susie. “But not with my friends.”
If Roz couldn’t make them back down, she would go through them. She stepped forward. So did Harvey.
“Roz,” said Harvey. “Rosalind.”
He called her that when he wanted her to take him seriously. He reached forward, so careful, and cupped her face in his hands. Roz trembled and went still.
“I don’t understand whatever enchantment is happening, but I saw it affect my dad. And Susie and I were telling each other, we feel … different too. You went to the demon’s shop twice. You’re more affected than we are, but you’re so strong. Whatever it is, you can fight it. We can fight it together.”
Daughter of Chaos Page 23