by Sally Green
I close my eyes.
“You OK?” Gabriel asks.
“Tired.” And it sounds more like “Tyrrr . . .”
“You want me to talk more or do you want to rest?”
Talk more, I mouth.
He smiles. “I like this Nathan who is quiet and enjoys listening to me talk.”
I want to tell Gabriel things, how I like listening to him and like him being here. I can’t think what to say in one simple word but I manage to mouth, Good.
“And who doesn’t swear at me or walk away. This is a situation that has advantages.”
I try to smile, but have to close my eyes I’m so tired. I feel Gabriel stroke my forehead.
“OK. Where was I up to? The bullet. Concealed in her thigh. So Donna cut the bullet out, loaded the gun, and waited for you. She shot you in the stomach. Got the edge of your left lung. She was aiming for a body shot. She knew the bullet would do the rest.”
Gabriel is silent for a few seconds.
“Then it went mad. She’d taken another gun too, with the usual Hunter bullets in it. Nesbitt got hit. Not seriously, just in the arm. But I’m sure he’ll let you know that he took a bullet for you. Adele used her Gift, made her skin like metal and protected Nesbitt and shot Donna. Donna’s dead. I didn’t see it. I didn’t see much of the fight I mean. I . . . the way you flew through the air, the way you landed and then . . . you screamed. You screamed a lot.”
I thought I’d held it back.
“Hurt,” I tell him.
He pauses then asks, “Does it still hurt?”
I think about it. Think about my body. The bad pain has gone. I ache all over but nothing bad. I force myself to sound stronger and say, “Just tired.”
“So. Let me finish the story. You were shot. Nesbitt was shot. Adele was the heroine of the day. Celia cut into you three times and eventually got the bullet out. You were a mess. A bloody mess. Adele cut the bullet out of Nesbitt’s arm, only it seems that she’s less good at first aid and she took a big chunk out of Nesbitt too. Stop smiling! He has a really ugly scar.”
I wonder what new scars I’ve got from all this.
“Anyway, Celia made this stretcher out of wood and our jackets in about ten seconds and we carried you back to the cut. Do you remember that?”
I think about it and then shake my head.
“Well, you were out of it by then. Anyway, we came through the cut and made camp where we came out. And here we still are, exactly where we landed ten days ago.”
“Ten?”
“Ten.”
“Urgh.”
“Celia sent Adele to get Arran and he started work on a cure for the poison. The magic is in making the bullet move to your heart. The poison is straight poison, but powerful.”
Gabriel talks some more about the poison but I can’t concentrate. He goes quiet and then says, “You should sleep now.”
But I don’t want to sleep, I don’t want to go back to the cell. I tell him, “Bad dreams.”
I close my eyes and feel him stroke the hair from my forehead. He says, “I’ll stay with you.”
I want to thank him and I open my eyes to see him looking at me. His eyes are full of tears.
I Want It to Be True
I have three more scars, though typical of Celia they’re straight and neat. The wounds are almost healed but it’s another four days before I’ve got the energy to get up and move slowly around camp. And we are in a camp now. One that has grown around me, it seems. There are some people I recognize and some I don’t.
I sit and watch the trainees train. I’m cold and stuff my hands in my jacket pockets. I feel a bullet in each. The original Hunter bullet that Marcus took out of my back in Switzerland is a greeny copper color and the magic bullet that Celia dug out of my chest is a browny red. They are the same size and weight. I expected the magic bullet to have a life about it, a buzz, like the Fairborn does, but it feels like any other bullet: just a dead piece of metal. Maybe it only comes to life when it’s inside someone, when it tastes blood. And I know the man who made the Fairborn must have been evil; Wallend made the magic bullet and his magic is evil too.
Nesbitt comes to sit with me. He’s healed too now—at least his arm has. He’s different: quiet, subdued.
After a few minutes he says, “I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?”
“Leaving here, the Alliance. Leaving it all.”
It doesn’t surprise me as I think he was only ever here because of Van. But I’ll miss him and so will the Alliance; he’s a great fighter and the best tracker. “Where will you go?”
“Back home. Australia, I mean. Haven’t been back there for years.” He laughs to himself. “Shit, last time I was there was before you were born.”
As usual I don’t know what to say. Nesbitt adds, “I won’t miss you.”
I smile and nudge his shoulder. “Me neither.”
We sit quietly for a minute and then I ask, “When are you going?”
“Soon. Can’t stand it here now. Need a change of scene.” Then quietly he adds, “I want Soul dead and all his evil cronies, but . . . I can’t do it, not without Van. I’m . . .”
He shakes his head and rubs his eyes and doesn’t finish what he was saying.
* * *
The next morning I’m feeling better at last. My healing is finally getting back to its normal strength and by the afternoon I heal myself and get a buzz from it. I actually feel good.
I tell Gabriel, “My healing’s working. Back to like it was.”
“Good.”
“I’ve been thinking. About the amulet and stuff. I’m going to go for it.”
Gabriel frowns.
“I didn’t think you’d be pleased, but you must agree it’s sensible. If the amulet works I’ll be protected. I want to avoid dying. I thought you’d want that too.”
“There are other ways of avoiding dying.”
“You still want to leave. Like Nesbitt? Go to Australia?”
“I think you should at least consider it. I mean properly consider it. We could go anywhere. It doesn’t matter where, but somewhere away from this war.”
“I have a feeling that wherever I go the war will follow me.”
“You always say that but you never try it. You say they’ll follow you. Track you down. Well, maybe they won’t.”
“My father had to move every few months.”
“That was him, not you.”
“It would be the same, I know it.” And I remember Marcus and his den, the peace of it, and I loved being with him there. But he could never relax, not truly. He was always on the run. Even so, I know he would have continued to evade them. It was me that brought him to the Alliance. It’s because of me that Marcus is dead. Annalise shot him but I brought him to the Alliance. I asked for his help. And he asked me for something too.
I tell Gabriel, “My father said I should kill them all.”
“It’s for you to decide what to do. He shouldn’t have said that.”
“Part of me is him, Gabriel. Part of me is so like him and that part of me wants to kill them all, wants revenge, in full. No half measures. But another part of me, the White Witch part, the logical part, says . . . that will only bring on more killing, and it will never end.”
“And your father’s side is winning the argument but your mother never has a chance to give her side.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know if she’d disagree. Her life was fucked up by the White Witches as much as mine has been, maybe more.”
“And so?”
“And so I intend to fuck theirs up too.”
“And would you go if Annalise wasn’t there? Is this really about getting her?”
I shake my head. “I hate her and I want justice for my father. But this isn’t about Annalise. I’d do it even if
she wasn’t there. Even if she was already dead. I want an end to the war, an end to Soul, an end to all of those who side with him.”
“Well, you might not be able to kill them all, Nathan. You’re not all-powerful. And there’s only one of you. Soul has a whole army.”
“It won’t matter how big an army he has if he can’t hurt me.”
“War hurts, Nathan. It’s not just physical wounds. It screws you up. It screws everyone up.”
“Even you?”
“Of course even me. I’ve killed people. I’ve watched our friends die. I’ve watched you nearly die and every day it hurts me and . . . I see how it hurts you.”
“Would you leave for me, if it was the other way around?”
I don’t know why I ask that as I expect him to say yes straightaway but he thinks about his answer and then says, “I’m not sure. I’m not even sure if that question makes sense to me. I think the question should be: what would I do if I was in your shoes? And all I know is that you’ve been through a lot, you’ve suffered a lot because of these people, and if I was standing where you are I’d probably do the same thing. I’m not against what you want to do, Nathan. I want you to be sure about it, because you won’t be the same person afterward.”
“I am sure of it, Gabriel. But I’d like you to stay with me. Help me.”
“Of course. You know I’ll stay with you. Always.”
* * *
I go to see Celia to tell her my plan, though as usual it’s not much of a plan, more of a vague intention, but I also want to discuss something else with her.
I tell her, “Van thought that Soul wanted me alive. She thought he wanted to use me as a weapon.”
“Yes. I discussed that with her and I agree. I don’t know Soul well, but the little I saw of him makes me believe that once he sets his mind on something he’ll go after it. I think he’s set his mind on controlling you. Having you in his power.”
“And yet he sent Donna to kill me.”
Celia gives a small shake of her head. “No. Donna was working with the Hunters. She was sent by Jessica. I imagine Jessica spotted her and trained her. I wouldn’t be surprised if Soul didn’t know anything about her.”
“I thought the bullet must have been made by Wallend.”
“Possibly it was. I don’t know. But I’m sure Soul would rather have you alive and I’m equally sure that Jessica wants you dead. The Hunters and Council work together but the Hunters always believe they are superior to the Council and the Council must always be careful to control the Hunters and not give them too much power.”
“I wonder if Jessica would want to take over the Council.”
“She’s intelligent and ambitious, the youngest-ever leader of the Hunters. There were a few people who were unhappy about her appointment after Clay was removed, but she dealt with them. Clay promoted her and nurtured her career but she did nothing to help him when he was accused of failure when the Fairborn was stolen from him. Jessica’s ruthless and a Hunter through and through. She believes in their superiority.”
“Ha! She believes in her own superiority and always has.”
“Another reason, then, why she might believe she should control both the Hunters and the Council. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s her long-term goal. If you were to come under Soul’s power it would be much harder for her.”
“Another reason for her to want me dead.”
“And another reason why Soul would want you alive and under his control: to keep his position safe from the Hunters as well as the Alliance.”
“Well, I’ve no intention of letting either of them get what they want.”
And I tell Celia that I’m going to go to Ledger and try to get the amulet. We discuss it briefly and she agrees I should go with Gabriel and get Nesbitt to show us the way before he leaves for Australia.
I tell her, “While we’re gone you need to work out stage two of the plan: how we attack Soul once I have the amulet.”
“Of course. But you haven’t got it yet,” she reminds me.
Back to the Bunker
We’re back at Mercury’s bunker: me, Gabriel, and Nesbitt. We came through the cut in Germany, the one that we used to get to the meetings in Basle. They seem like the distant past, but now that I try to work it out, I think it was only six or seven months ago. Nesbitt has brought us here to show us the way to Ledger but he says he’s not coming with us. So this is where we’ll finally part.
I’ve questioned Nesbitt a few times about where Ledger is and all he says is “Patience, kid.” Now that we’re at the bunker I ask him, “So you went to Ledger from here? Through a cut?”
He says, “Van went. I didn’t go with her.”
“You didn’t tell me that before!”
“I didn’t think it was relevant.”
“What?”
He shrugs.
“But Van told you where she went?”
“Yeah. Kind of.”
“Kind of!”
“Look, Van wanted to go on her own. Said there was nothing to fear from Ledger and she could handle it. And I had my own stuff to do. Well, stuff for the Alliance: scouting out camps, checking up on Hunter movements. Van was quite capable of doing it herself. You know, working together is a balance of familiarity and distance. Just like you and me when we’re partnered together. I’m friendly and familiar but you’re not—”
I swear at him and call him useless.
Nesbitt frowns. “I’m hurt, kid. You know I love you.” And the way he says it is real and honest and not joking. “And I was going to say I’m friendly and familiar but you’re not the sort of person who would want me treading on his toes.” He grins at me and I’m not sure if he’s kidding about the whole thing or what.
“What exactly do you know, Nesbitt?”
“Enough to get you there, so stop your flapping.”
“Good.” I stomp off, saying, “We need to check the bunker first. Make sure it’s secure.”
It’s unlikely that Hunters have been here and laid a trap since Van and Nesbitt were last here, but we can take nothing for granted so we check it out, room by room, from the kitchen on the top level, down through the bedrooms and into the numerous storerooms on the lower levels. Everywhere seems the same as when we left it months ago. The great hallway is still a mess from the fight when Mercury died, when I killed her. In the blood room, where all the bottles of witch blood are stored, everything looks undisturbed.
There’ll be a bottle with my mother’s name on it here. A small amount of blood, stolen by Mercury from the larger samples kept by the Council. Soul would have used it to perform my Giving. I’m sure Celia’s right: Soul wants to control me; he has always wanted that.
Nesbitt says, “This stuff’s valuable.” He’s right. The Alliance could use it to help Half Bloods, or any young witches, Black or White, if their parents aren’t around to give them blood at their Giving.
“Does Celia know about it?” I ask.
“Van told her. I guess she’s got other things on her mind right now.”
“I’m sure she’ll have a plan for it. And it’s probably safest left here for the moment.”
* * *
When we’ve been through the whole place and are satisfied that there aren’t any Hunters hiding in cupboards, we go to the library.
Nesbitt says, “Before Van went to Ledger we came here and went through Mercury’s diaries and maps. I’ll show you the stuff Van read before she left. It might give you an idea about what to expect from Ledger.” He opens the hidden bookshelf at the back of the room and retrieves a sheaf of large parchments.
Me and Gabriel sit on the floor and Nesbitt drops them in front of us. The first parchment is one I’ve seen before: a plan of Mercury’s bunker and the location of eleven cuts that lead to different places in the world.
Nesbitt jabs his f
inger on one of the lower-level rooms and says, “She went through that cut to New York.”
Then he spreads the other parchments in front of us, saying, “These maps show territories: areas belonging to White Witches and those belonging to Blacks. They’re all dated and go back two hundred years.”
I love looking at maps. I can’t read books; most sentences are beyond me and I struggle to even make sense of some words, but maps are something that I can read easily. Looking through them, it’s obvious that the extent of White Witch territory has grown in Europe. Britain has become a place only for Whites, and there are smaller changes in other places too, but this change only happened in the last forty years. Before that, for decades—in fact, for over a century—the areas seem to have hardly changed, and on some older maps the White and Black territories even overlap. There’s a similar pattern in Australia, Africa, the Far East, and the USA. But in the rest of America, from Mexico and through South America, and in Canada and Russia, the territory of the Black Witches has grown. The major change is that two hundred years ago there were more and bigger areas that overlapped, and some are labeled “mixed,” which I guess means Blacks and Whites lived together, and amazingly Britain was one of those places. But on the map made last year there are only five areas where this is still true. I’d like to visit them and see what they’re like but it looks as if I’d need to go a long way: China, India, Tasmania, Mexico, or Zambia.
Nesbitt flicks through the top of the pile of maps, saying, “It’s these recent ones that show the map room.”
“The what?” I’m thinking of the rooms in Mercury’s bunker and which one the map room might be.
But before I can ask Nesbitt pulls out a map from 1973, saying, “To get to Ledger you have to go to the map room. It’s in Philadelphia. Here.” And he points to a brown dot, barely visible, that’s marked near the east coast of the USA. “The key says what it is: it’s the ‘Map Room.’”
I look to Gabriel and ask him, “Do you follow this at all?”
He shrugs and smiles. “If it was easy everyone would go there.”
“Exactamundo,” Nesbitt agrees. “I don’t know where Ledger lives but I know that Van got there through the map room.” He goes to the hidden shelf again, coming back with a few of Mercury’s handwritten diaries, saying, “These are what Van got really excited about.” He clears his throat and starts to read, then stops and looks at Gabriel and me and says, “It doesn’t tell you much but I reckon it’ll be useful for you guys. But if you’d rather I didn’t bother . . .”