by Emma Savant
She pulled out two mugs and rummaged through one of the boxes filled with tea bags.
“The chamomile blend is in the jar near the back, if one of those is for Cerise,” I said.
“Oh, thanks.” She dropped a reusable tea bag into one of the mugs and selected another tea for herself. The chamomile one was for Ginger’s wife. Grandma had thrown the blend together once using herbs from our magical garden out back, and Cerise had loved the tea so much she’d made up a new batch every few months for the past several years.
It was these little things I knew about my sisters that made it hurt to doubt them. I’d looked up to every Dagger older than me practically since birth.
“Do you know if the Wildwoods have finished moving?” Ginger asked.
Her voice was casual—casual enough that I knew I should be cautious about my answer.
“They’re all at the new spot now,” I said. “Most are sleeping in tents until their den is finished.”
“Odd that they’d choose a den over a house. I heard Nelly offered to build them something.”
“Just preference, I think,” I said. “Their old den was pretty cozy.”
Ginger poured hot water over the tea bags, and steam rose in gentle curls. “That’s right, I forgot you went inside the old one.”
“You did, too,” I said. “When we rescued Grandma.”
I immediately wished I hadn’t said it, because no one around here needed more reminders of that time the Wildwoods had kidnapped the Stiletto and held her for ransom.
“I prefer the house,” Ginger said. She tossed me a thin smile and dunked her tea bag absently up and down in the water.
“I know you’re not happy they’re here.” I propped my elbow on the table and looked up at her. “But we need to trust that Grandma knows what she’s doing.”
“Nelly has good intentions,” Ginger said. “No one can deny that.”
The tightness of her lips revealed everything she was trying not to say.
I frowned a little. “But you don’t think she’s right to let the wolves live out back.”
“Hard to see it working out,” Ginger said. “Monsters and monster hunters living in such close quarters?”
A flush of frustration crept up my neck, and I swallowed and tried to fight it back down.
“They’re not monsters,” I said. “And it’s not like they’re in our backyard. It’s a quarter of a mile up the hill to their den.”
“Not much distance when you’ve got four legs and the help of the moonlight,” Ginger said.
I could tell she was trying to be polite, but her disapproval leaked out in the tightness of her lips and the slight lift of her eyebrows.
“Grandma wouldn’t let them stay here if she thought they were dangerous.”
“She might if you vouched for them,” Ginger said. She picked up her mugs and carefully crossed the room with one in each hand. “Nelly trusts your opinions.”
It should have been a compliment, but I bristled at the way she spoke.
“What, you think she shouldn’t?”
“I’m glad you’re going to lead us someday,” Ginger said. “Sienna had traits that I don’t think would have been good for the coven in the long run. So I mean this respectfully, but you need to get your head in the game. You’re a Dagger.”
“I know,” I said sharply.
She leaned against the kitchen door and looked at me. She was tall and beautiful, and had always been one of the Daggers I’d admired most when I was a child and she was a novice like I was now.
Something in the way I viewed her had changed, though—or maybe it was something in the way she viewed me.
“I’m just saying, it’s not your job to make sure the werewolves have a place to sleep at night, especially when we’ve got so many real problems to deal with now. You heard they found the body of that missing faerie girl, right?”
It must have been clear from my face that I hadn’t heard. Ginger softened and sighed.
“It’s all over the news. I’m sure you’ll hear about it tomorrow. Just remember, Scarlett, your responsibility is to protect the world from monsters, not to protect the monsters from the world. The wolves can take care of themselves.”
“Not if people like us decide to go around murdering them.”
“Sienna was one person,” Ginger said. “That doesn’t mean the entire coven needs to be okay with them living on our land, even if you have a crush on them.”
She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes briefly. I opened my mouth in outrage, but she shook her head quickly.
“I’m sorry, that was over the line,” she said. “Who you sleep with is your business.”
“I’m not sleeping with anybody,” I said hotly.
Who even had the time?
“Either way,” she said. “Just because you like a few of them, doesn’t mean they need to move in, you know?”
She pushed the door open and slipped into the hall before I could say anything else.
The clock on the wall chimed midnight. I swore under my breath, dumped my empty plate and half-empty mug in the sink, and ran upstairs to try and get a few hours of sleep before this all started again.
3
I overslept the next morning and hadn’t even gotten all the way down the stairs when I was faced with more of my sisters complaining about the wolves. Poppy and Blaze were in the foyer, grabbing their coats and tugging on their boots before they left for the day. I caught the word werewolf and paused at the top of the stairs to listen.
“Scarlett seems to think they’re pets,” Poppy said.
“Kid’s trying her best,” Blaze said. She pulled a knit beanie over her spiky platinum hair. “Give her a chance.”
Poppy slipped on a jacket. “I know she’s young, but I think it’s a little much for her boyfriend’s entire pack to move in with us,” she said.
I cleared my throat. They looked up. Poppy quickly dodged my gaze, but Blaze offered me a small smirk.
“Hey,” I said, continuing down the stairs like I hadn’t just been eavesdropping. “What are you guys talking about?”
“Oh, not much,” Blaze said. “The weather.”
“I heard,” I said dryly.
This wasn’t going to work, not if every Dagger besides me was constantly gossiping about the wolves and complaining about how Grandma had chosen to make amends for Sienna’s attack on their den.
I took a deep breath. “You guys have a problem with the Stiletto’s decision?”
Poppy glanced at the door, then sighed and turned to me. “I do,” she said. “I think it’s a bad idea to have them here and I don’t think having them so close is appropriate. If Nelly’s okay with you dating her kidnapper, that’s up to you. I’m not comfortable having them so close to the mansion, though. Some of us have kids here.”
“I know you think they’re safe,” Blaze said. “But I’ve handled too many werewolves over the years to think there’s no chance of one of them snapping and seeing one of the kids in the yard as easy prey.”
“They’re not actual wolves,” I said. “They’re people. You know, the kind with hopes and dreams and feelings?”
“They’re not people,” Blaze said. “They’re werewolves. So sometimes they’re people and sometimes they’re animals, with animal instincts.”
“That’s a myth,” I said. I’d talked to Brendan at length about this before he’d agreed to move his pack to Grandma’s land. But, of course, no one else had bothered to talk to the Wildwoods directly. They might be living within walking distance of the coven mansion, but the barrier between our families was still huge and overwhelming. “They have instincts that get heightened, yes, but they retain their identity as wolves, and there’s no reason to think they’re any more dangerous than the average Joe on the street.”
“The average Joe on the street is dangerous,” Poppy pointed out. “That’s why the world needs the Daggers.”
“They were just as scared to come live here as you are to have th
em,” I said. “You think they feel safe right next to a building full of slayers? We could wipe out their whole pack if we wanted to. Sienna and Autumn did enough damage on their own.”
“We’re not going to attack them,” Poppy said.
“And they’re not going to attack us.”
“We have your word for that.”
“And Grandma’s, and Brendan’s,” I said. “But my word should be enough. Do you really think I’d put you in danger? That I’d put your kids in danger?”
I looked between them. Blaze seemed to think about this, then shrugged a little, and Poppy pursed her lips.
“I don’t think you would mean to,” Poppy finally said.
“So you trust my motives but not my judgment?” I said. “That’s not enough. We’re Daggers. We have to be able to trust each other. And I’m your future Stiletto, so if you can’t trust me, we’re really screwed.”
“It’s not that we don’t trust you,” Blaze started.
I held up a hand. “I’m late, and I don’t want you to say something unless you’ve really thought it through. So think about it and decide if I’m someone you can rely on to have on your team. Because if I’m not, that’s a bigger conversation we probably need to have as a coven.”
I left them both standing in the foyer. After years of desperately trying to be included as one of them, it was odd to be in a position of… not of authority, exactly, not yet, but of knowing that I did belong among their ranks. It still might take a fight to prove to them that I had what it took to be a leader, but at least now my voice was just as important as theirs.
Or so I was trying to believe.
I reached for my phone to check how late I was running, exactly, and saw that I had two missed calls and a text, both from Grandma.
Nelly: Meeting ended early. Stop by my office when you get in.
Foreboding burrowed into the pit of my stomach as I put the phone back in my pocket.
The air downtown was crisp and cool, and bright sunlight filtered down between skyscrapers to highlight the spots of greenery that grew on balconies or rooftop gardens. I sped on my motorcycle into the parking garage adjacent to Carnelian and felt like I was halfway to Grandma’s office before the doors into the building closed behind me.
She was surrounded by piles of chiffon and lace appliqué, and her office smelled faintly of lemongrass and sandalwood. The large windows let in bright patches of sunlight—the kind that would have made the day of any of the dozen cats that reigned over the mansion.
“Spring collection,” she said the moment I walked in, as if we were already in a conversation. “Is a leaf motif too pandering?”
“To the Waterfall Palace?” I said. “No. Or if it is, who cares?”
“Fair point.”
She dropped a length of pale-green embroidered chiffon on the table and beckoned me to come sit on the other side of her silver desk. When I did, I could barely see her over the piles of fabric. She perched on the edge of the desk to make up the difference.
“I liked your sketches,” she said. “I sent them back to you this morning with some ideas. Implement them and see what you come up with, and then I’ll start you on the next batch.”
“Was the cocktail dress too much?” I asked.
“Not enough, I thought,” Grandma said. “If you’re going to blow up a skirt like that, you might as well go all the way.”
I nodded my understanding, and she added, in a more cautious voice, “You missed the meeting this morning.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” I said. “Dagger stuff came up.”
“It always will,” Grandma said. “You’ve got a lot on your plate right now, sabre. Are you doing all right?”
She didn’t mean it as a challenge. I knew that, but it still got my hackles up.
“I’m fine,” I said, a little too loudly. “This morning was just one of those things. It won’t happen again.”
Grandma shifted on the desk, wiggling to find a more comfortable seat. “It’s going to happen at least weekly,” she said. “Don’t kid yourself.” She smiled, and it was the kind of smile that came from long experience.
The distance between her and me was vast, and I had no idea how I was ever going to cross it.
“I’m just learning to juggle everything.” I wrapped my red leather jacket more tightly around myself and the tip of my wand dug into my side from its hidden pocket. “I’m sorry I missed the meeting.”
“I’m not upset about that,” Grandma said. “It happens. But you’re working to become a designer now, and you need to be at these meetings so you know the direction the house is going.”
“I know.” Frustration built up in my body; I sensed the familiar patterns of tension settling into my neck and shoulders.
“I don’t want you to overwhelm yourself,” Grandma said. “It’s not as if you have to take over the fashion house tomorrow, and we both know your priorities need to be with the Daggers right now. If balancing the coven and your work here is too much, we can scale back your duties at Carnelian.”
It was gently said and kindly meant, but her gentleness did nothing to mitigate the weight of failure on my shoulders.
“I can handle it.” My voice was a little too sharp and a little too brisk, and I fought to regain control of it. “I can. I’ll let you know if it gets to be too much. What did I miss at the meeting?”
4
I sat on a park bench beside a paved trail, glancing up occasionally from my phone as if I were distracted by the sight of a squirrel scampering up a tree trunk or the whir of bike wheels as a family on an evening ride sped past and disappeared over the hill just to my right.
The harpy I’d come here to watch was perched quietly up in a tree. She hadn’t moved for the better part of two hours, and none of the people below would ever spot her motionless figure even if they happened to look up—which, I knew, people didn’t do nearly as often as they thought.
It was a relief to just sit here while I waited for her to make a move. A voice in the back of my head said I should be using the time to catch up on Carnelian emails or review the coven’s latest bestiary entries or work on my next set of sketches for Grandma, and I took great pleasure in telling the voice to go screw itself.
A notification popped up on my phone.
Alec: We just finished construction on the main part of the den. It’ll be a few days until we’re set up with plumbing and electricity, but we’re having s’mores to celebrate anyway. You should come.
The thought of hanging out in the woods and eating s’mores with friends warmed my heart, at least for a second until I realized what time it was. I’d hoped to have the harpy handled half an hour ago.
Scarlett: Would love to but I can’t. It’s my mom’s birthday, and we’re having a party for her tonight. I’d invite you, but…
Alec: Say no more.
I glanced up. The harpy was still motionless with her giant wings wrapped around her slender body. Only her darting eyes gave me evidence that she hadn’t been turned to stone.
A young couple passed me, holding hands and talking loudly about someone at the woman’s job. The man tilted his head back to finish the last of an energy drink, and I straightened. He searched around for a trash can, but there wasn’t one in sight—which was why I’d chosen this spot, and maybe the reason the harpy had been reported here so many times.
The man glanced back at me, but I made a point of staring resolutely at my phone. The couple crested the hill and disappeared over the other side, and a moment later, I heard the muffled sound of him tossing the can into the thick growth on either side of the trail.
Bingo.
The harpy unfurled her giant wings and soared down from her tree. I jogged to the top of the hill just in time to see her land with a piercing cry in front of the couple. The woman screamed, and the man shouted the kinds of obscenities guys like him usually trotted out when they were pretending to have a terrifying situation under control.
It was t
empting to just sit and watch the moment unfold. These two were clearly Humdrums and had never seen anything like the winged woman on the path in front of them. Her sharp claws stretched out toward them, and her wings beat, sending dry leaves skittering away.
“Pack it in,” the harpy said, emphasizing each word. “Pack it out.”
The woman screamed again and stumbled backward.
“Reduce, reuse, recycle,” the harpy said.
The woman whimpered, and the harpy took a menacing step toward her and pointed at the can lying discarded in the bushes.
“Is this too complicated for you?” the harpy demanded.
The woman saw me approaching and pointed, like there was a chance I hadn’t noticed the bizarre scene in front of me. I held up a hand.
The harpy seemed startled to see me, either because she thought I’d decided to take up permanent residence on my bench or because it was unusual for someone to look at her as calmly as I was. One clawed hand reached out to grab the man, but I already had a length of enchanted silver rope in my hands.
I swung it toward the harpy. The rope soared through the air as if it had a life and mind of its own and looped smoothly around her wings, binding them to her sides and trapping her on the earth.
She let go of the man and screeched--a high, wailing noise that stood my hair on end.
“I’ve always wanted to use that lasso,” I said as the rope tightened and knotted itself. I waved at the couple.
The woman had gone pale, and the man’s face was slowly turning red.
“Hi, guys. Did you just throw your can on the ground?”
The man blustered but couldn’t seem to form actual words. I raised an eyebrow and gave him a moment.
Finally, I pulled my wand from my pocket. The harpy’s eyes darted between my face and the wand, and she tried to run, but the rope instantly snaked around her knees. She swayed but managed to stay standing.
“Go stand on the other side of her,” I ordered the couple.
They seemed frozen to the spot.
I didn’t have time for this.
“Go,” I said sharply. I pointed and took a step toward them. They seemed to decide that I was somehow more frightening than the bound bird woman, and they walked around the harpy at a glacial pace, giving her plenty of room.