The Girl of Hawthorn and Glass

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The Girl of Hawthorn and Glass Page 6

by Adan Jerreat-Poole


  Eli shook the enchantment out of her head. She was sharp edges again, but she could feel the magic — subtle, like a single fennel leaf in soup — prodding at her consciousness, trying to lull her, trick her, catch her. Switching to her all-black magic set of eyes, she could see a thread of blue light snaking its way around her elbow. She pinched it between thumb and forefinger and threw it back into one corner. It curled in on itself like a dejected animal.

  “Oh, she’s good,” a deep voice declared. Eli glanced up at a woman with a thin line for a mouth and a calculating gaze, then blinked away her dark eyes for the familiar crocodile yellow. There was so much magic in this place that she couldn’t tell who the source was, and the swirling colours and lights were giving her a migraine. She didn’t bother to pick up the scraps of her disguise — the magic in this place was too strong. Besides, it was time these humans knew who — and what — they were dealing with.

  “Eli.” She offered a hand, fingernails somewhere between bird talons and the ragged nails of teenagers, complete with chipped and fading blue nail polish. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Without taking her eyes from Eli, the woman took her hand and shook it. “Welcome, Eli. We’ve waited a long time.”

  Eli could hear the murmur of other voices, and bodies slowly materialized into her field of vision.

  “Good job, Cam!”

  “Missed you, Cam.”

  “Cam the Man!”

  “Did you see any witches?”

  “Did the cops stop you? I heard they were stopping everyone.”

  “Great work, Cameron.”

  “I’m the one who found her,” said a familiar voice. “Don’t I get any credit?”

  Eli froze. Turned her head and found that challenging stare. Remembered the heat of leather on her body. Felt her fingers twitch toward her blades, drawn by instinct. Immediately retreated into shame and horror.

  “Find your bike yet?” asked Eli coolly. “I’d be hurt if someone picked it up who doesn’t appreciate it.”

  “Yeah, we found it.”

  Eli looked for a trace of reproach in Tav’s face and saw nothing. It was a blank page.

  So they’d both lied. She took a step back from the crowd. What had Tav told them about her? She had heard of witches using the bodies of former assassins or pets for all kinds of back-alley magics.

  She had walked right into a trap.

  “Who’s the witch?” she choked out, hearing the guttural rasp of panic in her voice. The crowd quieted and stilled, one man’s arm around Cam’s waist. She let blackness slip into her eyes and glanced over at the blue threads that kept wavering nearer, as if trying to catch her. “Call off your pets if you want a fair talk. Otherwise I’m leaving.”

  “You can’t leave,” said Cam.

  Blades out. One glass, the other stone. A defensive pairing: one to reflect dark magic, the other to defend against physical harm. Eli was not a reckless fighter, and she always won her battles.

  A murmur of voices rose up.

  “How did those get in here?”

  “Get back!”

  “She’s crazy.”

  “The barrier failed!”

  “The barrier didn’t fail,” said the woman who had risen to greet her — the café owner, Eli assumed. The woman narrowed her eyes. “No one is permitted to bring something that is not a part of them into this space. We bring only ourselves. Those magic blades must be made from your own bone.” She sounded disgusted and a bit sad. “A clumsy way to arm agents, and brutal. But effective.” The others looked horrified.

  Eli felt a jolt of surprise and then calmed. No wonder the blades always moved in unison with her body, always bent to her will. She had been made of glass and stone, and these knives were her kin. Their presence soothed her.

  “I asked you a question,” Eli said. “Who. Is. The. Witch.”

  “I’m the witch,” said the woman. “And this is my café. You may call me the Hedge-Witch. I’m not with the Coven, and I’m not here to hurt you. We need your help. Will you listen?”

  Eli felt deep in her bones that one of those things was a lie. The only problem was she didn’t know which one. But she was in too deep now, and there was no easy path back.

  “I want proof of your good intentions,” she said.

  “You are armed,” said the Hedge-Witch. “Take Cam as a hostage. If we break faith, you may kill him.”

  Eli stared at her for a moment and then sheathed her blades. “Spoken like a true witch,” she spat.

  “I told you she wouldn’t do it,” said Cam, glowing.

  Footsteps. A clumsy hand on the doorknob. Eli tensed again, but no one else did.

  “The final member of our group has arrived,” said the owner, smiling. “I wondered if he was going to show up.”

  “He missed me,” said Tav.

  The door swung open and a body lurched in.

  This time, there could be no mistake. Eli could smell the curdled milk of dying magic. Sweetness turned to rot. Walking death. The body moved strangely, awkwardly, as if new to the world. As a child, Eli had learned to read these signs and understood what they meant.

  The final member of the party was a ghost.

  Fourteen

  “Go into the City of Ghosts and bring me back a sewing needle, a peach pit, and a fleck of dried paint,” Circinae had told her.

  Eli, a fierce eight-year-old, had been sent to the City of Ghosts before but had never been tasked with a retrieval. She hadn’t known it was possible.

  (Circinae always seemed to tell her as little as possible, gifting out morsels of information only when Eli needed them.)

  “She’s testing you,” Kite told her, as they lay together in the Children’s Lair and watched great white fish flying overhead. One opened its jaws to catch a bird; its teeth glittered like diamonds. Clytemnestra was riding on one and waved merrily at them. They waved back.

  “It’s easy,” said Eli. “I’ll come over later and tell you about it.”

  “It’s a trick. You have to impress her.”

  “I know that!” Eli pressed her elbow into Kite’s side. “I just wish she would tell me what she wants.”

  “She’s a witch.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  Kite nudged her back. “You humans are so weird.”

  “I’m not human.” Eli turned her jet-black eyes to Kite.

  “Switch! Switch!” Kite giggled.

  Eli switched rapidly between yellow and black eyes until she had a headache. Then she lay back down again and went back to worrying.

  How could she show Circinae that she was ready for a real assignment?

  “I have an idea!” announced Kite. “I know how you can impress her.” She leaned over and whispered in Eli’s ear.

  A slow earthworm smile wriggled its way across Eli’s face.

  She returned hours later, knives wet with fruit juice. She gave a kiwi to the Labyrinth, and it happily let her enter the Children’s Lair. A few bored young witches were racing feathers up the wall and making them explode when they reached the top.

  “Where’s Kite?” she asked, tossing a papaya to Clytemnestra.

  “Who?” Clytemnestra unhinged her jaw, caught the papaya in her mouth, and swallowed it whole.

  Eli frowned. “I just got back from a mission.”

  “Ooh!” Clytemnestra put her face in Eli’s face, eyes sparkling. “Did you kill anyone?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Boring.” Clytemnestra went back to watching the other children play.

  Eli waited, but Kite didn’t come. Some time later, she felt a tug in her bones and knew that she had to go home or risk punishment.

  “Show me,” demanded Circinae, staring deep into the purplegreen fire. She stuck out a hand.

  Eli walked forward and handed Circinae an ordinary sewing needle and the peach pit.

  “Well?” Circinae snapped. “The fleck of paint?”

  “I can’t give it to you.” Away from the
comfort of Kite’s legs and arms tangled in her own, Eli felt less certain about their plan.

  “Why not?” Circinae turned finally to look at her wild daughter. The flames cast shadows on the walls that danced to the quick beat of Eli’s heart.

  Trembling slightly, Eli held out her frost blade. A dark stain marred one side.

  Circinae tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “The human world cannot harm your blades.”

  “I brought you a fleck of blood, the witches’ paint,” said Eli. She held the knife closer to Circinae so she could inspect it.

  Circinae recoiled and pushed Eli’s arm away. “Filthy girl! Bringing the blood of another witch into this house!”

  “We can use it —”

  “That stain will never come out! You have no idea what you’ve done. I should drag you before the Coven and have them feed you to the Heart.”

  Eli was banished to the forest for a few days, and when she returned, Circinae said nothing about the witch blood, nothing about the magic that would never be compatible with her own. Witch blood is antagonistic to other witch blood.

  Had she known that the blood contaminating her daughter was the blood of the Heir? Did she suspect then the freedom Kite had planned for Eli?

  Not long after, Eli was sent on her first assassination.

  Fifteen

  Eli’s eyes flooded with black. Her blades began singing, calling for death. She forced her hands still, even as she calculated the distance between herself and the ghost (five metres) and the number of movements she would need to kill it (three). An electrical current hummed through her body. She could feel the Hedge-Witch’s gaze.

  “You tell me that no one may enter here armed,” said Eli evenly. “Yet ghosts can be wielded as a weapon. Explain.”

  “No,” said the Hedge-Witch.

  “If you want my help —”

  “We will make a trade,” announced the Hedge-Witch. “I am not trying to trick you.”

  Eli snorted.

  “A deal, as is our custom,” the Hedge-Witch continued. “If you harm one of our members, there will be no deal.”

  “Does it follow your commands?”

  The ghost moved past Eli, not even looking at her. Eli could feel the slime of rotting magic brush her skin as it passed. Fortunately, she was used to these things and barely experienced a gag reflex anymore. She watched its every step. It said nothing, simply joined the group at the other side of the café and quietly took a seat. It cast no shadow. Not even a very strong ghost, then.

  “When he chooses to. He is one of us, not a thing or a pet.”

  They think the ghost is a person, Eli realized, the sickening feeling growing in her stomach. She had encountered ghost fanatics before — the ones that swore they had souls or consciousness. Some radical young witches even hypothesized that they were a newly evolved form. These crusaders had never seen a ghost before, never seen the destruction they caused, never felt that painful absence of life, like a wound in the world, whenever one was nearby. A rip in space. A vacuum.

  Clearly this witch outcast believed the tales and thought the ghost was her friend or ally. It would have been simpler if they believed the ghost to be a dangerous tool. Eli let her darkness drain from her eyes, and the vision of magical tendrils straining toward the sucking emptiness of the ghost vanished. She turned to the Hedge-Witch with her palms up, empty. A sign of peace, of tentative trust. The Hedge-Witch nodded.

  “What’s the trade?” Eli asked, intentionally relaxing her stance.

  “All business, isn’t she?” someone commented.

  “I thought you said she was fun,” complained another.

  “How did she trick you into giving her your keys?”

  Eli kept her eyes locked on the witch’s. The witch’s pupils shrunk into narrow slits, quivered, and then expanded, mixing with the milky whiteness of her eyes.

  “You help us, and we help you,” the Hedge-Witch told her.

  “That’s not enough.”

  “I can’t tell you the assignment until you’ve joined us. It’s … sensitive information. But if you agree to work with us, then we will get you back to the City of Eyes.” Her eyes glittered, and the edge of her mouth twitched. “We know you’ve been trapped here.”

  Thanks to Cam, she thought, cursing herself for thinking violence was her only currency, when information could be so much more valuable.

  She could be lying, but Eli didn’t think so. For all the Hedge-Witch’s bold talk, she was desperate for her aid, and there was power here, she could feel it. There was also the matter of her unfinished assignment. Circinae’s words rang in her head. Finish what you started. But Eli needed more information before she decided what to do, and what to tell the Coven. She wouldn’t kill another human. This group could help her find the answers she needed.

  And if they could get her home? It was worth the risk.

  Eli ripped out three strands of hair, spat on them, and offered the dirty handful to the witch.

  “It’s a deal,” she said.

  The Hedge-Witch smiled now but only with her teeth, and Eli could see that she had sharpened her canines. Eli’s respect for her rose. The witch offered her own hair and saliva, and when their hands met, their joined cells sizzled, shedding white sparks like static electricity.

  “It’s a deal,” the witch agreed.

  The atmosphere in the room changed visibly: bodies relaxed, held breaths releasing in a gust of stale air, arms and hands touching each other as the companions nestled closer around the table. Drinks were poured and muffled laughter was heard. Eli could feel the magic tendrils curling back on themselves and resting. The threat had passed.

  Eli felt no such relief. She had made an ally of a ghost, offered her services for sale like a common mercenary, and broken so many rules she had lost count. She was either the most ingenious assassin that was ever made or the biggest idiot in the worlds.

  “Eli! Over here!” Cam was waving her over.

  Well, there was no going back now.

  Eli crossed the floor and sat down on the comically small section of bench that Cam had saved for her. No one else spoke to her, but they stared, and there were whispers. Eli could deal with that. She kept her face angled away from Tav.

  “See? I told you everything would be fine.” Cam poured her a beer. Eli didn’t usually drink on the job, but she felt like she’d earned it.

  “Right. Perfectly fine. No problems or potential deaths.” Eli took a long swig, spilled some down her shirt, and wiped her face with the back of her arm. “Thanks for warning me.”

  “Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. “Protocol. Also, I’m pretty sure I’ve been hexed into keeping silent. I’m not sure — I’ve never tried to break the oath.”

  “The one you took for this group or for the Coven? Or was that just a cover story?”

  “The Coven doesn’t make humans take oaths,” said Cam. “It suggests we could be out of their control. Usually a healthy dose of fear and a few crumbs of magic keep us in line.”

  “But not you.”

  “I’m special.” He winked.

  “Not your average Uber driver.”

  “Few of us are. Cab drivers, too. Great position for espionage.”

  “Now why didn’t I try that?”

  He topped up her drink. “You’re too stabby for a permanent stealth position.”

  “Stabby?”

  He made wild stabbing gestures with his free hand. “You know, all those fighting things you do.”

  “Right. Stabby. That’s me.” Eli rolled her eyes.

  The Hedge-Witch called everyone to attention with a tiny silver bell. There was the sound of rustling in seats, chairs scraping the floor, pint glasses being set down too hard. When it was relatively quiet, she spoke.

  “You all know why we’re here. Controls between worlds are tightening. That’s why Eli is here — and she isn’t the only one who’s been denied entry. Fewer witches are crossing between worlds. They’re
fleeing the Earth, abandoning it for some reason. I’ve been monitoring. If the portal closes for good, we lose our chance. We can’t let that happen. Our mission remains unchanged, and most of you know your jobs and are doing them admirably. The goal for tonight was to introduce everyone to our newest member, Eli — she’s jumpy, as you’ve seen, but that was true of most of us at the beginning. She’s been vetted by both Tav and Cam, who vouch for her skill and her integrity, and you’ve just witnessed her take the sacred oath. She is one of us.”

  The crowd repeated, in a murmur, “one of us,” and glasses were raised and lowered in unison — a thump of belonging, a single heartbeat. Eli tried hard not to feel moved by this gesture of inclusion. A thin wire of guilt wrapped around her esophagus. She worked best alone.

  “Eli.” The Hedge-Witch turned to face her. “We know you were made by a witch to serve the Coven. We know you’ve been trained by the witches as a spy and a killer. We know you’ve been sent here to learn about the human world and to report back to your masters. We have reason to believe you’ve been in a confrontation with a ghost and killed her.”

  Eli glanced across the table at the ghost. No reaction.

  “We also believe that you have a human mother whose DNA was used in your making. If you help us, we may be able to find her.”

  Eli stiffened. A human parent? Impossible! She wanted to demand more information but held back — that was the payoff, after all. Answers. Knowledge. Power.

  Nothing was free.

  Knowing that this was an exchange, like everything in her life had been, soothed her. She knew how to bargain. She knew what she was worth.

  “We need someone with your skill set and your intel, someone raised in the City of Eyes, someone close to the Coven. I am sending Tav and Cam on an important mission to the other realm, and they need a guide. Eli, you will act as their guide.”

  “But I can’t cross between worlds,” Eli interrupted.

 

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