The Girl of Hawthorn and Glass

by Adan Jerreat-Poole

  “Is this the interrogation?” Eli raised one eyebrow. “You didn’t bring any tools.”

  “I don’t need any. If you want to get back to the witches’ world, you’ll answer them.”

  Eli leaned across the table, picked up Tav’s plate, brought it to her mouth, and took a bite. After she chewed and swallowed, she smiled at Tav. “Then I hope you ask the right questions, human.”

  If Tav was disconcerted, they didn’t show it. They narrowed their eyes at Eli. “How did you get to be stuck in the human world?”

  Eli’s spine stiffened. “I failed.”

  “You let the ghost go?”

  Clark Kent glasses with broken lenses. Feathers falling like snow. Sirens. “I couldn’t find the mark.”

  “Have you failed before?”

  Eli fixed them with a fierce stare. “I’m an assassin. We don’t fail.”

  “Except you did.”

  Eli glared at them but said nothing.

  “So, you can’t go back, not really, until you complete the mission.”

  Eli hesitated and then nodded. “Until I kill the mark.”

  “And the mark is a ghost?”

  Eli hesitated. “I am a ghost assassin. I was made to kill ghosts.” Even to her own ears, the words sounded flimsy.

  “You’re not telling us something.”

  “Yes.” Eli smiled again. A piece of china was stuck between her teeth.

  Tav exhaled loudly. “If you could complete your mission, would you?”

  “Yes,” Eli answered immediately. That’s what she was built for, and the only thing she was good at. She was a hunter, and she needed prey.

  “Then I guess we’re lucky you failed.” Tav stood and pulled on their leather gloves. “And let’s hope you don’t find your mark before we complete our mission.”

  While the magic threads that connected the world had always been tightest at the points of power — the Coven and its mirror, City Hall — those threads had begun to unravel. Tav explained this to Eli and Cam as they drove to the designated cut site in a “borrowed” pink jeep.

  “The main stitch is being watched too closely. And we already know it rejected you,” they were saying. Eli winced at the word rejected but said nothing. “But there are other stitches, just as there are other pathways, other streams of magic, other lines of connection between the worlds.”

  “I think that’s part of the coming-of-age ceremony,” said Eli, suddenly remembering the images Kite had sent into her mind after returning (speaking of the ceremony was, of course, forbidden). “A witch has to sew a new seam, pulling the worlds tighter together, and to do that they have to come to the human world and steal —” She shut up, suddenly embarrassed, feeling she had said too much.

  If for generations the witches had been keeping the worlds tied together, why were they now threatening to pull it apart? What had changed? Her mind raced with possibilities.

  “I thought witches couldn’t speak of it in your world,” said Cam. “The Hedge-Witch said the ceremony was a secret.”

  “There are ways around it,” Eli said.

  She remembered that day. She had been waiting on their island, lips turning blue from the cold. Lonely and scared. Worried that Kite couldn’t come back to her. When Kite had finally emerged, dripping-wet hair littered with cigarette butts and candy wrappers, Eli remembered thinking that she had never looked so beautiful. Kite had wrapped her arms around Eli and shared those raw thought-feelings across their minds. Eli saw dark, then felt a piercing, a change in the atmosphere, and then there was light, blurs of faces and buildings, a doorway in the sky, like the Vortex but different — it smelled different. It smelled like Kite. Like crustaceans and saltwater and pearls.

  “Anyway,” said Tav, “we’re going to reopen one of the smaller seams. The Hedge-Witch’s. The one she used to get here.”

  Eli nodded. It made sense. The only risk was that the Coven was monitoring it, but it seemed unlikely — there were too many of these stitches between worlds for the Coven to watch them all. Maybe they would be lucky.

  The stitch turned out to be in an innocuous side street overrun by weeds and wildflowers and broken bottles. “When I open it, hold on to me,” directed Tav. “I don’t want one of us left behind.”

  “The Vortex doesn’t take humans,” said Eli. “I don’t see how this is going to work.”

  “How do you know?” asked Cam. “Have you tried bringing humans across before?”

  That shut her up. Because Circinae told me and I never questioned her. She shook her head. “It’s still a risk,” Eli muttered.

  “We know,” said Cam quietly. He hadn’t said very much during the drive. Maybe the reality of what they were about to do was hitting him. Eli glanced at her companions and cringed at how woefully unprepared they looked — a boy with a backpack, Tav forcing a cocky pose like a performer on a stage. Had they ever killed anyone? The Hedge-Witch’s magic tricks were nothing compared to the full power of the Coven.

  And the Coven was nothing compared to the wild magic of the world itself.

  “It’s less likely to reject us if I’m there,” said Eli, softening her harsh words. “Let’s all hold on to each other.”

  Tav sighed. “Here goes nothing.” They held out one of the aloe plants the Hedge-Witch cultivated in her café.

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  “It’s supposed to recognize the signature of her essence and reopen,” said Tav nervously. “She was sure this would work.”

  Three bodies shivered under an overcast sky.

  Then the plant started growing, sending great tendrils of greenblack racing into the clouds. Tav dropped the pot and it shattered into jagged pieces of clay at their feet. And still the plant kept growing. It grew glittering spines and deadly thorns and delicate shimmering petals. Where it breached the sky, the clouds swirled around it, turning to steel and iron, stone and fire. The air suddenly became very cold. Eli could see her breath hanging in the air.

  The dark clouds hardened and froze above them. A tiny crack appeared, like an earthquake was tremoring across worlds. Beside her, Tav and Cam stared in awe at the rip in the sky, at the monstrous plant they had unleashed on the universe.

  “Hold on!” Eli grabbed their arms roughly and dragged them into the shadow of the chasm.

  Black.

  Cold.

  Emptiness.

  Her hands were empty.

  She couldn’t see anything.

  One slow, painful breath.

  A burning in her lungs.

  Then hands again, sweaty skin pressed against hers. And light, a blinding grey — but her made-eyes adjusted far faster than human ones. Eli blinked.

  The City of Eyes.

  But as she looked around, she realized she had no idea where they were.

  Eighteen

  Eli felt it in her bones. She was home. The cells of her body sang to the music of the magic that pulsed from the core of the world. It felt right. Joy mingled with relief at having made her way back.

  She looked around. A bronze desert stretched endlessly in all directions. Spiky plants burst from the soil at odd intervals in acidic greens and poisonous purples. The land smelled of decay and loneliness. The air tasted stale, like an attic that had been lost to time. She glanced down and saw what looked like a pink plastic Barbie heel next to her foot. A few paces away lay a tattered mink coat. It was as if someone had upended a trunk of broken things onto the sand and left them half-buried. It was strange, even for the City of Eyes.

  She’d never been here before.

  Her human companions were regaining their liveliness. “I think I’m gonna puke,” gasped Cam. He dropped his bag onto the sand beside him. “Let’s not do that again.”

  “I still have goosebumps.” Tav’s voice sounded hollow. “It was like being nowhere and everywhere at once.”

  Eli grabbed their wrist and squeezed. “We’re here. We survived. That’s something.”

  “Are you trying t
o hold my hand?” Tav asked. “Maybe you should come closer and warm me up.”

  Eli pulled her hand away and flushed. Still, it was good that Tav seemed to be recovering. Eli’s fingertips were smoking where they had grazed Tav’s skin.

  Cam had his hands on his knees and was breathing heavily. He swallowed once. “We made it? We crossed?”

  “We crossed,” said Eli.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “Why is the magic so … sad?” asked Tav, frowning. They were right — the quiet pulsing magic in the air was dejected and frail.

  “Shut up for a second,” Eli ordered, closing her eyes. She peeled off a ragged edge of fingernail from her left thumb and threw it onto the ground. Where it landed, she felt the vibrations ripple through sand and soil and bedrock. She waited for the vibrations to come up against the Labyrinth, the invisible passageways she knew so well.

  Nothing.

  She frowned, ripped another nail off — this time accidentally catching the edge of her skin and leaving a bloody flap — and threw it down harder. It disappeared into the earth and vanished, swallowed by the world. Nothing.

  She opened her eyes.

  “What?” asked Tav. They looked like they had been holding their breath. “What is it? Are we lost?”

  “Yes and no,” said Eli slowly, marvelling at what she had discovered. “We’re in the wastelands.”

  “Where are all the glittering palaces and deadly beautiful faeries?” Cam looked up at her.

  “You never paid attention to the Hedge-Witch’s lessons, did you?” Tav sighed.

  “We’re not all teacher’s pets.”

  “Did she tell you anything about the wastelands?” asked Eli.

  “No,” said Tav, frowning. “She told us about the Coven, and the chaotic magic, and a few basic charms and tricks to survive. They were mostly ‘how to not get killed’ classes. She hadn’t originally planned on us coming here, although several of us wanted —”

  Cam nudged them and they fell silent. Eli wondered what was left unsaid.

  “So you wanted to vacation in the deadly City of Eyes? This trip is going to be a disappointment,” said Eli with forced lightness. “We’re not used to tourists.”

  Tav shook their head. “Not to vacation —”

  “Tav’s always talking big plans.” Cam laughed. “They’re a dreamer. Some kind of magic-hunting Indiana Jones.”

  “What I want —”

  “What I want is a large iced coffee,” said Cam. “And a chocolate muffin. Where’s the closest Starbucks?”

  “Everyone wants something,” said Eli grimly. She could hear the fervour in Tav’s voice, and it made her skin itch. What was Cam stopping Tav from telling her? But she didn’t have time to analyze the strangeness of humans today. She grabbed Cam’s bag and threw it over her shoulder. Then she started walking.

  “Where are you going?” Tav called after her. “I thought you said we were lost!”

  “It doesn’t matter!” Eli called back cheerfully. “No one returns from the wastelands.”

  Nineteen

  A cherry-red sun was overhead, moving through the sky as the City of Ghosts danced wildly around it. The star burned the landscape with its hungry gaze.

  Eli could tell that her companions were growing tired: Cam had tried to keep up a running commentary on the sad landscape and the red star but had fallen silent over an hour ago, saving his energy for the panting breaths that punctuated his steps. Tav had said very little.

  Once, when the two had fallen behind, Eli could make out anxious whispers in low voices. Cam sounded worried. Words like “hurt” and “reckless” fluttered uneasily in the space between them. Eli wondered what mistake Tav had been about to make — or might still make. The thought thrilled her. Eli let them argue and pretended she heard nothing.

  Eli marched them in a straight line for several hours. The spiny plants thickened to a dense greygreen shrub that stabbed and clung to their bodies as if in desperation. A few thin red streams, like a damaged capillary network, trickled above the sand, the water droplets burning when they touched skin. Boulders were strewn haphazardly in the brush. And, of course, there continued to be junk: tarnished silver chains and bottle caps and a mouldy Twister mat. It reminded Eli of the children’s hoard of stolen toys, only abandoned and left to rot.

  Eli had never seen any of these plants or stones before and was starting to feel strangely sorry for them. She let her hand linger on a beautiful, forgotten rock that had a gold-and-black sheen to it. It wasn’t granite, but they were both made of stone, and that had to count for something.

  “Stop that.” She pulled Cam away from a prickly bush that had released dozens of thin needles into his ankle.

  “I’m doing your world a favour,” he said, kicking at it again. “Someone needs to weed this place.”

  Eli hissed. Cam drew back, startled. She pulled him close, their noses almost touching. “These plants are not like the ones you grow on your balcony. Offend them and there will be consequences.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He moved closer to Tav, and the two of them kept a distance from Eli for a time.

  What she had said was partly true: if you offended the trees in the forest or the walls of the Labyrinth, you would come to regret it. All things demanded respect in the City of Eyes. But she wasn’t sure these sorrowful creatures with so little magic left could do them any harm.

  The truth was she felt heartbroken for them. And more than that, she felt kinship — perhaps this is where she would end up if she failed. If she was unmade. Her parts would be tossed to the sand, then left to be forgotten.

  She knew instinctively that if there was ever a place and time for gentleness, it was the wastelands. She could almost feel the pain of the land as it gave way to the pressure of footsteps. They were bruising its skin.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered to a spiny plant as she stepped over it.

  After some time, she could hear Cam struggling to breathe and could smell Tav’s sweat through their shirt. They had taken off their jacket and tied it around their waist.

  When they reached a cluster of rocks the colour of blackcurrants, Eli stopped.

  “Why don’t we rest here for a bit,” she said, checking her blades for sand damage. “I’m tired.”

  “Well, by all means, let the lady rest,” Cam wheezed.

  Tav’s lips curled into a small, secretive smile. They nodded.

  “Does that mean night is coming?” Cam asked, looking up at the sky, which had turned mauve and grey. “I can’t tell what time it is.”

  Eli shrugged. “We don’t really have a day/night cycle here. You get used to it.” She leaned against the largest rock and gently touched its surface. It was smooth and cool under her palm. She felt the urge to rest her face against it. She brought her mouth near its surface and whispered, “Thank you.” It felt like the respectful thing to do. It’s how she would have spoken to one of the trees in the forest.

  Her companions were weary and sweaty and painfully out of place. Cam stomped over to where Eli was standing and tried to climb onto the rock, only to jump back when his hand touched it.

  “Ouch!” He held out his palm and revealed a dozen tiny cuts, as if he had plunged his hand into a bramble. “Why didn’t it hurt you?”

  “She’s from here,” said Tav.

  Eli shook her head. “No one is from here. And you can’t treat this world like yours. Everything has feelings. You have to treat everything like a lover and an enemy.” She heard herself repeating Circinae’s lessons and bit her tongue before she launched into a full lecture.

  Tav was laying their jacket on the ground. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  It made sense to Eli. She shrugged and said, “Everything is dangerous.”

  “I know that,” said Tav coolly. They turned away. “Your world isn’t the only dangerous one, you know.” Their shadow fell over Eli’s face like a door being shut. Eli left them to their thoughts.


  The smell of sulphur and dried herbs, a burning feeling in her gums. A tightness in her chest like she was being bound into a shape too small for her soul, a body too constricting. She was a star, a soul, a creature, and she wanted to drink in the entire world.

  There was so much blood. It was black and dripped like paint over her body, her mouth. It was everywhere.

  Eli cried out in her sleep.

  She was dreaming of her making.

  Being made was ecstasy and pain.

  “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Tav shook her gently awake.

  “Nothing,” said Eli. “It was just a dream.” She clenched her fists until her fingernails dug into her palm and left half-moon bruises on the skin. She was shaking.

  Eli did not dream in the City of Eyes. She had been warned by her mother that dreams were dangerous. Dreams could save. Dreams could maim. She had learned to keep herself from dreaming, although once or twice on a mission she had let herself fall into a distressed sleep and had felt the wonder of dreams. She only allowed herself that luxury in the City of Ghosts, where dreams could not harm you.

  What had changed? Was it the human blood on her hands, or the closeness of Cam and Tav that brought out her own humanity? She surreptitiously wiped black blood off the back of her hand, hoping Tav couldn’t see how worried she was. How close she had come to ruining everything.

  At least I didn’t dream of my unmaking, she thought and shuddered. Here, it would have torn her apart.

  She would have to be more careful.

  Tav was staring at her with awe and disbelief. “Eli,” they whispered, “you’re glowing.”

  The rock beside her was glowing silverwhite, and under Eli’s skin, along her kneecaps, a matching light shone through. As she let go of the stone, the light in her body went out.

  “What was that?” Tav was sitting up, and Eli could see them now. It didn’t look like they had been sleeping.

  “I think it’s part of me,” said Eli, excitement racing through her limbs. When she was home, she would add it to the list. When she got home. If she got home. If she had a home. The excitement shuddered and died away like a fumbled chord. She looked up. Tav was still staring at her with something like longing.