The Girl of Hawthorn and Glass

by Adan Jerreat-Poole

  An awkward silence followed this pronouncement.

  “I don’t want to die either,” said Tav.

  “We’ll try our best not to.” Cam forced a smile.

  Kite shrugged. “Humans die.”

  “So do witches,” said Tav.

  “So do witches,” agreed Kite.

  More leaves rained down on their shivering bodies. The darkness seemed to wrap itself around them, drawing out nightmares from the secrets of their skulls and into the shadows of the world.

  Cam broke the silence. “Remember when the Hedge-Witch’s plants played keep-away with your bike keys?” The shadows seemed to recede at the warmth of his tenor.

  “That’s what you get for giving caffeine to magical plants.” Tav rolled their eyes. “I told her it was a bad idea.”

  “You were so mad.”

  “I had places to be!”

  “Oh please. You spend more time polishing that thing than riding it.”

  “Says the man terrified of motorcycles.”

  “It’s just you and the road with nothing in between! It’s basically a death trap.”

  The warmth faded as the threads of familiar stories were worn thin. In the quiet that followed, the song of the stars rang clear through the universe and pierced the shroud of mist and fear. Kite joined in, emitting strange high-pitched notes at odd intervals.

  “She’ll change her mind,” said Cam. “We’re in this together.”

  “We’re so close. I’m sure I can find the door. I’m not going back without it.”

  The stones on Cam’s body joined the harmony. “We’ve gotten this far,” he said. “We’re not giving up now.”

  The music reached up into the universe, carrying with it the memory of sneakers on gravel and midnight trombone, music born from the dreams of boys with pomegranate hearts, who were as strong as they were fragile.

  To Eli, sitting alone on the last broken piece of her childhood, it sounded like a funerary hymn.

  She couldn’t sleep. She knew she would dream of her unmaking and would never wake. Her body parts would be scattered across the wastelands, her magic feeding the junkyard. She was so tired — the insomnia played with the wires of her nerves. Day and night had no meaning in the City of Eyes. And without sleep, Eli’s sense of human time was starting to fall away from her. She was losing her grip on reality. Everything was a dream. Dreams were real. Eli’s body was heavy with exhaustion.

  Her blades were hungry. It had been a long time since they had been fed. She had denied them the shadow spider, and they were starving. They were made to devour the dead. She was hungry, too. She had been made to kill, and she felt that need rising in her blood. Her true nature.

  She found herself drawn to Tav’s prone body. Her blades started dancing, trembling with anticipation. The thorn blade sprouted new growth and reached toward the sleeping boi. Eli placed a hand on it, trying to soothe the knife.

  Eli stared at Tav for a long moment.

  A human who could use magic. A human that even Kite was a little afraid of. A human taken under the wing of the Hedge-Witch, treated like family.

  A full human, or a part witch?

  She could hear Cam’s voice in her head. The Coven isn’t scared of the human world. But what if humans could see magic? What if they could use it? What if they could open doors between worlds?

  Wouldn’t they be a threat?

  Eli was a tool of the Coven. She eliminated threats.

  Her head spun. She let her fingertips brush against the frost blade, and it cooled under her touch. It knew the truth. The mark had not been a mistake.

  Eli remembered the way her blades responded to Tav’s presence, the way they moaned and rattled and burned. They had known. All along, her weapons had known Tav was the mark, and Eli had ignored them. She hadn’t wanted to know.

  She should send Tav back to Earth. They would never make it out of the Coven alive. The Witch Lord would destroy them.

  You should kill them, another part of her brain said. You haven’t strayed too far from the path. It’s not too late.

  Finish what you started, daughter.

  Eli’s hand clenched and unclenched around the dagger as she warred with herself, caught between bloodlust and love, between past and future. Honour. Glory. Value.

  “I’m not just a weapon anymore,” she whispered and took a step back.

  “Get away from them!” Cam’s frantic voice whipped through the stillness, sending leaves swirling around her feet.

  Tav woke up.

  And then Cam was in front of her, using himself as a shield. Eli felt jealousy simmer in her arteries.

  “I trusted you!” he yelled, eyes wild and stained red from the killing wind.

  “Cam, I’m not —”

  “What —”

  “Tav, go! She’s trying to kill you. You’re the mark.”

  Everything stopped. Leaves hung in mid-flight. The wind died. Tav rose slowly and turned to Eli.

  “Is it true?” Their eyes fell on the thorn blade in her hand and widened.

  “You said you never fail,” said Cam. “But if you want them, you’ll have to go through me.”

  Tav’s eyes hardened, hiding the hurt. Eli could feel the magic bursting around them, caught up in a tangle of strong and difficult emotions.

  “I —” The words caught in her throat. Shame settled like silt in her marrow. She had thought about it. She had wanted to, for a moment. Eli lowered her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  She fled.

  She knew that no one would come after her.

  Thirty-Four

  Too many thoughts and feelings were flowing through her body, currents of electricity that sparked with hope and pain.

  Eli needed answers.

  She needed to know.

  Not why she had been sent to kill Tav. She understood that now, and it darkened her past with lies and empty promises.

  Not what the worlds would look like if they stole the Heart and changed the course of history. Not what life could be for her in the City of Ghosts. Those futures that she could map out in the constellations of Tav’s eyes excited and terrified her — but she wouldn’t have any future until she knew who she was.

  What she was.

  One thing she knew for sure: she could never go back to being a tool of the Coven. At least, not as an ardent believer. She no longer thought of herself as just a weapon. She could no longer take pride in her work. She no longer trusted that fate had made a home for her. Eli had been changed by visions of blood-splattered tiles and the even more disturbing memories of Cam’s honey-gold laughter and the way Tav made leaves unfurl in her rib cage, reaching upward for the sun.

  She needed to know why and how she had been made, and only one person had the answer.

  “You were always in such a hurry,” Kite sighed, appearing before her. Even her gentlest breath was a song. “Everything has to happen now.”

  “We can’t all wait forever, Witch Lord.”

  “Are you coming back?”

  “I can’t.”

  “You really care about them,” Kite marvelled.

  Out of habit, Eli ran her fingers over the blades, checking that they were secure.

  “Don’t drown them.”

  Kite tilted her head forward, and her hair cascaded like a waterfall over her face, the edges twitching and tangling.

  “You’re upset,” said Eli.

  The hair curled more violently, writhing and twisting over her face.

  “Good hunting, Eli.”

  “Wish me luck.” Eli’s mouth curved into an ironic smile.

  “You are an angel of death.” Kite’s skirts rustled in the breeze. “You are made for the unlucky.”

  “Close enough.” She waited for Kite to disappear, slowly fading out of existence. She hoped that Kite would go back to Tav and Cam, would show them a way out of this nightmare.

  And if not — Tav had magic. Cam was part of a wall. They didn’t need her anymore. They would be f
ine on their own. Eli forced herself to keep moving, one step after the other, moving toward the place she had left behind.

  The charcoal door was studded with candles, wax dripping onto the ground, small flames flickering wildly as if trying to extinguish themselves.

  Eli reached a hand to one of the flames and felt the skin of her palm burn before the light went out. A curl of smoke, like the beginning of a letter, scrawled itself across the air. Gritting her teeth at the sting of the burn, Eli knocked four times on the charcoal door. She wondered if the house would let her back in.

  To her surprise, the door crumbled, candles sputtering, creating pools in the dirt. She stepped over the remains and into the house.

  Circinae was waiting for her. Eli paused at the threshold.

  “You’re late.”

  Long polished nails tapped against the arm of her chair.

  “I had things to do,” said Eli.

  Fingertips clenched the upholstery, silver and black veins like tattoos marking the back of Circinae’s hand.

  “And did you do them?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Come in then.”

  Eli walked into the house.

  The door formed behind her like a tomb sealing shut.

  “I want you to answer my questions.”

  “You are not allowed to ask questions.”

  Eli drew the thorn blade, knelt, and tenderly pressed the tip to the floor of the house. Rose bushes broke through the stone floor, thorns and flowers bursting into life, creating a barrier between Circinae and the door.

  Circinae sighed deeply. “I thought so. Go ahead.”

  Eli rose and traded the thorn dagger for frost.

  “I want to know why you made me. I want to know what I’m made from. I want to know if I have another mother — a human one. What am I, Circinae?” The questions she had been forbidden to ask spilled out of her mouth and filled the room.

  The conductor who had led the orchestra of Eli’s life twisted her neck to look at her daughter. When she spoke, Circinae’s voice was slow and heavy with resignation. “I used human bone to craft you, stolen from a cemetery outside the City of Ghosts. I used spiderweb to weave your bones together. I infused your skeleton with granite and hawthorn and glass, with obsidian and pearl and roses. I used beetle shells to craft your eyes, dipped in my own blood so that you could never hide from me. I used my magic to give you a human shape, to make you bleed red, to give your lungs breath. You were never born, and you have no other mother.”

  The blade sang a single clear note. Eli knew — had always known — the truth. The Hedge-Witch had lied. Of course she had. She had needed Eli’s help and knew exactly how to capture her interest.

  Eli had no other mother, no place to run to.

  Only Circinae.

  “I’ve killed a human. Does that bother you?”

  “I’ve never cared who you kill. I only care about getting power.”

  Eli let the truth flutter between them like a curtain for a few moments before speaking again. “All those years I spent begging for answers. Wanting my recipe. Wanting to know what I was made of. Making notes, listening, learning, wondering each time I fell if something in my body would break. Wondering each time I touched an object if I was touching kin. The not knowing hurt me, Circinae. You know that. You know what I wanted. Why did you keep it from me?”

  “The secrets of making daughters are mine, girl.” A smile like a scythe. “And your desperation for knowledge tied you to me as surely as our shared blood.”

  Eli’s fingers twitched for the obsidian blade, the witch killer. “Then why are you telling me now?”

  Nails clacking together. A stray thread pulled from the armchair.

  “I want to show you something.” Circinae threw a sugar cube into her mouth and sucked it noisily. Eli reached out a hand and, after a second, Circinae gave her a cube, too.

  “I’ll come.”

  “Your last act as an obedient daughter.” Circinae laughed bitterly.

  A staircase wrenched itself up out of the flooring, scattering fragments of stone and many, many crumbs. Twirling their way upward, the stairs stilled into a narrow winding staircase stabbing through the roof and stretching forever up.

  “Ladies first,” said Eli, gesturing with the frost blade.

  Circinae laughed again.

  They climbed.

  Minutes grew into hours, which collapsed into days, and then the human circadian rhythm Eli had adapted to fell away, and she became just another magic thing in a magic world of things that existed, or didn’t, and lived, or didn’t, and died, or didn’t. Clouds formed into swans and watercolour paintings and then tore themselves apart. Rain and thunderstorms danced around their bodies, and then the Earth’s sun came out and lit up the world.

  When they reached the top of the staircase, they were surrounded by an inky purple sky.

  “Where are we?”

  “A beautiful night for stargazing,” said Circinae.

  The top stair was a simple platform suspended in the sky. Beneath them, the stairs vanished, and they were just two people standing in the air.

  Eli couldn’t even see the City of Eyes anymore, although she knew it was somewhere far, far below her. Before her, in the dark galaxy, a blue-and-white orb glittering with lights and life.

  “Look at the City of Ghosts,” said Circinae quietly, “and tell me what you see.”

  Eli did. She stared for a long moment at the human world, her half-adopted home, her birthright, her atonement for stubbornly existing.

  And then she gasped.

  The Earth was dying.

  Thirty-Five

  There were hundreds — no, thousands of cracks in the world, and from each chasm a pulsing, glittering black light was flowing from the Earth to the witches’ world.

  Eli knew what she was witnessing, but she couldn’t understand. Didn’t want to understand.

  “Its essence,” she said. “It’s … bleeding.”

  “This is what happened to the moon,” said Circinae. “The Coven got greedy and stole all of its magic. Everything died. It’s just an empty rock now. That’s why we moved here.”

  Horror filled Eli’s body, coursing through her veins like poison. “We’re predators,” she whispered, “eating worlds.”

  Circinae shook her head. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Our world can’t exist alone, but it can exist in harmony with other worlds — by sharing magic, by combining organic and inorganic materials, by adapting and evolving and changing. By dying. But the Coven learned how to live forever. They devour a world, drinking its essence, and then move on to another. But vengeance and hurt are sticky, and they follow us — they follow our magic. Sometimes the dead refuse to be left behind.”

  “Ghosts,” breathed Eli.

  “Yes. The City of Eyes has enchantments strong enough to keep them out. But Earth doesn’t. That’s what ghosts are — traces of the dead Moon people. Lost souls and spells and sorrow. We made the ghosts.”

  Eli’s head was spinning. “And now the Coven is killing the Earth.”

  “They already have another galaxy in mind once they’ve destroyed this one. Your humans call it Andromeda.”

  “We have to stop them!”

  “We can’t.” Circinae rolled a sugar cube around in her hand, fingertips glittering with the crystals. “It’s too late, Eli. I’ve tried to keep you safe. Don’t you understand? I’ve been trying to prove that your kind are still useful. I’m tired of watching my daughters being murdered.” A tear slid down her face, leaving a streak of ash on her cheek.

  Circinae will kill me, Eli had said.

  It wouldn’t be the first time, Kite had said.

  Is that what Kite had discovered? That the Coven’s past was littered with the bodies of dead daughters, broken or deficient tools? Did Kite know what the Witch Lord was doing to the world?

  “I won’t be useful in the new galaxy, you mean. They will need new tools — better daughters.�
��

  “I’m sorry, Eli.”

  “It’s not too late.” She turned to look at her mother. “We can stop them.”

  Another ashy tear slipped down Circinae’s face. “No, daughter. We can’t. They’re already here.”

  Eli stepped away from her. “You called them.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “You’re a murderer.”

  “I’m your mother.”

  “You’re not my mother, witch.” Eli pointed the truth blade at her. “I will renounce you. I will erase you. I will undo you.”

  “Your blades won’t work on me. I created you.” But she didn’t sound sure.

  “It’s not for you.” Eli spun the blade so the handle was facing Circinae and the tip was pressed against her own chest.

  Circinae stepped forward, the sugar on her nails hardening and growing, until long talons reached for her daughter. “Stop this. You are still useful. They might let you live. I could make modifications for the new planets, I could remake you, I could —”

  Eli’s harsh voice cut through Circinae’s protest. “I erase you, I undo you. I undo you, I erase you. I erase you, I undo you.”

  “I was inducted into the third ring, Eli. They’ve been watching through my eyes for weeks! I didn’t know at first. They knew the second you arrived — I couldn’t stop them!”

  Eli traded her frost knife for bone. “If I’m made from your body, does your body bleed when mine does? Does this hurt you?” She carved a red line into her forearm and drew a sharp intake of breath at the pain.

  “Eli, stop!”

  “Blood for blood. Bone for bone. I have no mother. I have no body. I am no one. I am nothing.” Drops of blood fell and sizzled on the platform. The knife glowed red.

  She would keep her secrets in her blades and throw them into the abyss.

  She would not betray her friends again.

  She would not give anything more to the Coven. She would not be their tool.

  She drew another blade.

  Bird talons wrapped around Eli’s wrist. “I order you to stop!”

  But Circinae had made her daughter well, and Eli could not be stopped. Hanging precariously between worlds, Circinae’s magic was already stretched to its limit, and here, in between things, Eli was at her strongest. Eli wrenched herself free from Circinae’s grasp and tore one of her talons off.