Daughter of Chaos

by Sarah Rees Brennan

  His dad moved toward him, and Harvey wanted to flinch away, but he held himself still. Now he’d gone to see Tommy, he found he didn’t resent his father so much for wanting Harvey to replace his eldest and favorite son. His dad had lost Tommy too.

  Harvey didn’t trust his father, but he did love him. He had so few people left. Maybe his father could learn to love him back. He hadn’t hoped for that in a long time. It felt good to hope again.

  He took off his hat and coat and said, “Let’s go.”

  His dad’s eyes gleamed. “We’ll make a tough guy of you yet.”

  “We’ll see,” said Harvey.

  He could be sorry for his father, who thought he had to be so tough. It was possible his father got scared like he did, underneath. It was possible there might be, not forgiveness, but less misery between them.

  He’d once told Sabrina there was no flying without her, but if she was flying without him, he had to make a life for himself on the ground. Surely there was something that could be built here. He couldn’t just keep missing her. He owed it to Tommy to live.

  His father threw the ball in his direction too hard, but Harvey caught it. His dad smiled to see him succeed, and Harvey ran in a circle around his father on the cleared ground.

  Maybe it was time to play ball.

  I woke late on New Year’s Day. It had been an eventful night. I’d fielded my aunts’ questions and fallen asleep on the sofa.

  The last thing I remembered was Nick touching my hair as I went to sleep, the caress so light and tentative it might have been a dream and not a memory.

  The first thing I heard when I woke was the sound of heels on the floor. I opened my eyes and thought for a moment I saw a snake coming toward me.

  Then I realized I was seeing the snakeskin heels of my favorite teacher. I sat bolt upright. “Ms. Wardwell!”

  Her cat’s eyes were wide, as though she were startled to find me in my own home.

  “Oh, Sabrina dear,” said Ms. Wardwell. “Alive and whole, not missing any limbs or vital organs, or consumed entirely by a fiend from the deeps? I had to come check for myself. Because I was, ah, deeply worried about you. Considering the evidence that a prince of hell almost came through to Greendale, I thought surely all was lost for you. Yet here you are, and not a scratch on you! I am stunned. But, of course, relieved.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “I feel terribly guilty I told you to banish the bad-luck demon. Who knew it would summon a prince of hell? Certainly not me!”

  “No harm done,” I said.

  “No,” said Ms. Wardwell. “I see that.”

  “Since you’re here, I want to ask you something,” I began. “What happened last night … it made me realize I want to explore the power I have now. To go deeper into the world of witches. So I wanted to ask you a favor. Vacation’s almost over, but could you get me a few more days off at Baxter High? I’m planning to devote myself to the Academy.”

  Ms. Wardwell’s eyes gleamed. “Do you know, Sabrina, I think that’s a marvelous idea. You should put some distance between yourself and your mortal friends. I will arrange it so you don’t have to return to Baxter High until you desire.”

  That wasn’t what I’d said, but perhaps Ms. Wardwell could see what I meant.

  I smiled up at her. “I really appreciate this.”

  “I do not appreciate you coming into my house without an invitation and bothering my niece,” said Aunt Zelda from the doorway.

  It was eleven o’clock on New Year’s Day, and Aunt Zelda was wearing a three-piece skirt suit embroidered with purple thread, and a matching hat with a dyed purple feather. She was also holding a lorgnette, through which she was studying Ms. Wardwell with a steely eye.

  “Perhaps you feel Sabrina is in need of a role model?” Aunt Zelda inquired. “Well, she has one. And there’s only room for one wicked witch in my house. Do I make myself clear?”

  “As a crystal ball,” murmured Ms. Wardwell. “See you at school, Sabrina. Perhaps.”

  She sashayed out, seeming unaffected by Aunt Zelda’s menacing air. Indeed, she gave Aunt Zelda a curving crimson smile as she passed her by. Aunt Zelda raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

  “Aunt Zelda,” I said. “That was not very nice.”

  “I’m not very nice, child,” murmured Aunt Zelda, wandering over to sit on the sofa beside me. “I like veils on hats, not threats, I like my home to be an accursed sanctum, and I generally like to know what is going on. Lots of confused mortals are stumbling around the town, and you came home with burn marks on you. What happened?”

  I hesitated. “Do you remember everything from last night? Did you or Aunt Hilda or Ambrose—find yourself thinking strange things?”

  “We were mostly thinking about you,” said Aunt Zelda.

  I leaned against her. The description of Pruflas’s spell said There is no magic stronger than hate. I didn’t agree.

  Aunt Zelda’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me, did you get yourself in trouble again?”

  “Yes,” I confessed. “But I got myself out of it, without asking you for help. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  Aunt Zelda seemed less than convinced.

  “I remembered all the things you said to me,” I coaxed. “About luck, and the membrane between the worlds being weak at New Year’s, and everything. Even when you don’t know you’re helping me, you’re helping me.”

  Aunt Zelda tapped the lorgnette affectionately against my cheek.

  “Oh, very well, Sabrina, no more shameless wheedling. Consider that you got lucky. This once.”

  I cheered. “Thank you, Aunt Zelda!”

  “And if do you get into trouble again … which you will,” said Aunt Zelda. “You can ask me for help. Ask, and I come. Seek, and I find. Cry, and I kill. That’s what family means.”

  I gave her a hug. “I’m going to make you really proud this year, Aunt Zelda. You’ll see. I’ll be the most powerful witch of them all.”

  “Don’t you think that’s enough sentimentality before noon, Sabrina?” Aunt Zelda asked, but she wore a small smile as she rose from the sofa.

  I didn’t want power that came from Satan or anybody else. If someone gave you power, he could take it away. I wanted to get power of my own. I didn’t want anyone to do it for me, but I did want friends to help me.

  There was help and friendship to be found in the world of witches. I knew that now.

  I followed Aunt Zelda out of the room, but she headed upstairs and I went out the door to sit in one of the wicker chairs on the porch.

  Dawn remade the world every day, but today the dawn had remade a whole new year. The snow was still falling, giving the whole world a clean slate.

  I closed my eyes and murmured the little spell Aunt Hilda had taught me. “Lady Anne, Lady Anne, send me a man as fast as you can.”

  When I opened my eyes, I saw the snow had stopped falling, and Ambrose was walking onto the porch toward me.

  He handed me a cup of coffee in a copper mug and tossed me a grin. “You might want to be more specific, cousin. Who knows what admirer the wind might send you?”

  “It’s a new year,” I said. “I want to be open to whatever comes my way.”

  He smiled against the shining rim of his own mug. “Then hell’s bells, ring in the changes.”

  Aunt Hilda came out with her arms full of scarves, though she’d neglected to put one on herself. “Ambrose, Sabrina, why are you out catching your deaths in the snow?”

  “I’m too hot to be cold, Auntie,” Ambrose drawled, so Aunt Hilda chased him around the porch while I laughed.

  I was the only one looking out into the woods radiant with light on frost, every tree a snow queen. Through the dazzle I saw a shadow emerge through the trees, only a boy’s shape. At first I couldn’t make out which boy.

  Harvey? Or Nick?

  Ever since I could remember, there had only been one possible boy for me. But things were changing this year.

  Whichever he was
, he was the one who’d come when I called.

  He drew closer, up the winding path and past the yellow sign that meant home, dark gaze surveying the family scene on the porch with an almost wondering look, then fixing on my face.

  It was Nick. My heart gave an odd little thump that almost hurt. I wasn’t disappointed.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” he said as he walked up to the last step of our porch and lounged against our toad statue. “I was passing by, and I thought I might walk you to school.”

  “You were passing by?” Aunt Hilda asked, hand on her hip. “You live in your school.”

  She’d stopped chasing Ambrose in order to glare at Nick from above. Ambrose toasted Nick with his coffee cup, but he did it behind Aunt Hilda’s back.

  “Be nice,” I whispered to Aunt Hilda. “I know you threw away his note for me.”

  “I see now that I was very wrong to throw away your personal correspondence,” said Aunt Hilda, adding under her breath: “I should’ve burned it.”

  Nick fired a devastating smile at her. “Good morning. May I say—”

  “You may not,” said Aunt Hilda. “You’re too slick by half. You’re not charming me this morning. I’m going inside.”

  “I’ll charm you later, then,” Nick called after her.

  I told him: “I’ll get my bag.”

  I ran in to get my bag and put on my red coat, then frowned thoughtfully at my reflection. Now that I’d decided to keep my white hair, my old clothes didn’t seem to fit. I considered how I thought a powerful witch should look. Maybe I needed a badass leather jacket.

  When I came back out, Nick insisted on taking my book bag from me.

  “I’ve never walked a girl to school before,” he said. “I understand the carrying of books is traditional.”

  I shook my head and let him have it. “Don’t pretend, you player. You walked me to class the first day we met.”

  “Ah, but that’s because you’re the exception to every rule, Spellman.”

  Nick was flirty and swaggering as ever, but there was a bruised look around his eyes. He must be tired. I’d run him pretty ragged.

  “There was something you wanted to tell me,” I recalled. “Something that wasn’t a big deal at first, but you wanted to be honest about it now. That’s what you said. What is it?”

  There was a pause, the only sound our footfalls in the snow.

  Then Nick shrugged. “I’ve forgotten. I guess it really wasn’t a big deal.”

  “All right,” I said. “If you remember, let me know. And … thanks, Nick. You really came through for me yesterday.”

  “And I’ll come through for you tomorrow,” said Nick. “If you’re grateful, can I ask you a question?”

  I wondered if he was going to ask me out again. My heart gave that strange painful thump again. This time, I thought, I might say yes.

  “You said you were my friend,” Nick told me, his voice very soft, as though if he said the words too loudly the air would carry them off. “And you care about me. You meant that? You won’t take it away?”

  “Never,” I promised.

  “Even if I ask you out?” A ghost of a smile touched Nick’s lips. “Even if I ask you out a lot?”

  I have a boyfriend, I’d told Nick once. Harvey, I thought yearningly, but he’d put himself in terrible danger by venturing out on New Year’s Eve. I couldn’t let him risk that again.

  I’d been so happy when I saw Harvey last night. I’d felt made of happiness. But nothing had changed between us, and I didn’t see how anything could.

  Nick was watching me with those bruised-looking eyes.

  Every year until this year, I’d walked the woods with another boy. I could almost see our past selves now, lost somewhere among the trees. Me with my hair gold instead of snow-white, before I signed the Book. Me with my hand in his, the boy I’d always trusted completely, thinking I would never have to let him go.

  We couldn’t be those people any longer. There’d been nothing wrong with those past selves, not my softhearted and sweet-natured Harvey, or me, the girl who always tried her best. But years changed, and we changed with them.

  This year, I was walking the woods with Nick. Maybe I would walk with him through the woods all this year.

  Right now, with him looking at me this way, it seemed possible. Whenever Nick looked at me, I felt better than strong. I felt glorious.

  “I have to be honest. I’m still hung up on Harvey. Even if I could work through that, I know how witches can be, and I’m sorry to spoil your fun, but I’m not looking for just fun. I’m looking for someone special.”

  “What a coincidence,” said Nick. “I was hoping I might be special to somebody one day. Why don’t I stick around? You can decide if you like me enough to keep me.”

  I couldn’t make any promises, but he made me smile. He always had, ever since I’d met him.

  “Stick around,” I told him softly.

  In spite of those shadowed eyes, he smiled back. “I’m not going anywhere. My plan is to stay with you.”

  The white snow crunched under our feet, but a piece of darkness slipped toward me through the trees. His silent paws left behind no trace.

  “This is my familiar, Salem,” I told Nick proudly. “He’s from the wild woods. So he’s independent, like me.”

  Nick hesitated. “Then consider me an admirer.”

  He leaned over and, moving with great care as though being gentle was something difficult and complex, stroked Salem.

  “Well, well, well,” said Salem. “The boy can learn.”

  I had to live among the witches. Maybe I could even come to love the Path of Night with no more doubts and no more fear. Surely after all this, I was due some luck.

  For now, Nick and I went running over the brilliant snow, looping around the tall trees and laughing, still in sight of home.

  Perhaps the change this year brought would be good.

  Don’t miss this exclusive peek at the third original Chilling Adventures of Sabrina novel, Path of Night!

  It was dark in the woods when my friends and I went to summon the goddess. The dome of the sky was still black, descending down into slate grey and stars growing faint through unfurling leaves. Even the trees, which would wear fresh new green under the sun, seemed grey in this absence of light.

  Dawn, the liminal time between night and day, was a good time to summon or banish the spirits.

  “This is like old times,” said Theo. “Sabrina luring us into the depths of the woods, where we aren’t supposed to be. My dad always said one of us would stumble into a bear trap.”

  Roz dimpled. “My dad and mom always said I should stop hanging around with kids who might stray from the path.”

  She and Harvey were walking hand in hand over the uneven earth. He’d stop to help her over tree roots and stiles.

  “My Aunt Zelda always said I should stop hanging around with brief, unworthy mortals.”

  I’d never been able to tell them that before. My friends used to think Aunt Zelda disliked them personally. It must be better, to know the truth.

  “Tommy always told me to have fun,” said Harvey.

  A hush followed, broken only by the soft ripple of the wind through the newborn leaves, as though speaking of the dead made this space under the trees a holy place. Harvey didn’t fling his brother’s name at me in accusation any longer. He only said it with love, and pain. That hurt me more.

  We were far from any path. We had been following the river through the woods for some time. In the shadows, the river waters looked black. Like a path of night.

  Harvey caught my attention. “Here, do you think?”

  The books said to look for a propitious place among the trees. I could see the mountains through the trees, high and white as sea cliffs. There was a space between the leaves. Light had seized the opportunity to splash down upon the earth in a radiant lake at our feet. I couldn’t tell whether it was sunlight, moonlight, starlight, or some combination of the t
hree, but it was light. My gaze had been fixed on the dark river, but Harvey’s artist’s eye had seen something else.

  I nodded. Harvey offered me his free hand, and Roz and I clasped Theo’s hands. We stood in a summoning circle, and I began.

  “Lady, oh Lady, our Lady. Eostre, Freyja, Ishtar. Kaguya, Austra, Lady of a Hundred Eyes, the Shining Princess, Lady Star. I summon you. We beg you for aid.”

  The noise of the soft breeze through the leaves changed. There was a quality to the wind almost like breath. Like a woman’s sigh.

  I swallowed, and continued.

  “Where shall she find, in foreign land,

  So lone a lake, so sweet a strand!--

  There is no breeze upon the fern,

  No ripple on the lake,

  Upon her eyry nods the erne,

  The deer has sought the brake;

  The small birds will not sing aloud,

  The springing trout lies still,

  So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud,

  That swathes, as with a purple shroud…”

  My words crumbled with the earth, shuddering and falling away beneath our feet. I held on tight to Harvey and Theo’s hands, and they held on fast to mine. Though the ground was shifting, we didn’t let go of each other.

  The breeze died. I’d thought the woods were quiet before. Now I realized that as a witch I’d been unconsciously aware of the creatures rushing among the trees and beneath the earth. Now they were gone, frozen or flying in terror from the presence of the goddess. Every bird for miles ceased its song. Every leaf was iced with silver.

  The thunder cloud rolled in, seething black and purple.

  Though the sky was clouded, the pool of light at our feet remained. Under the shadow of the thunder cloud, we saw the light spread. Its radiance suffused the earth as the ground broke apart, bright liquid flooding through every crack. Light became water, until we stood by the side of a lake. I’d never seen any lake so bright or so deadly still.

  She rose from the lake like Venus being born from sea foam, a woman tall and pale as a marble column. She didn’t seem entirely of this earth. Her skin was radiant as the surface of the moon, and her profile was disdainful as the marble bust of an empress. Silver water cascaded from her white hair as if she was a living waterfall, and she was wrapped in a sparkling silver robe completed by a collar of silver feathers. When the Lady turned towards us, every long feather waving behind her head seemed to open a blue staring eye. It was like they were peacock feathers, each given individual life and then dipped in silver so they could only shine, and watch.