by Claudia Gray
Although Gage kept nodding, taking it in, he said, “Is that going to do any good? I mean, can you outrun the apocalypse?”
“I don’t know. But if you guys can have any chance at all, I want you to take it.” Mateo breathed deep, got his focus back. “Okay. You ready?”
“Yeah. Are you?”
“Yeah,” Mateo said, and tried to believe it.
From the depths of her walk-in closet, Verlaine called, “You know, the time for arguing about this is over.”
Uncle Dave called back from the hallway, “Do you mean it’s time to admit that magic is real? Is it also time to check for chocolate from the Easter Bunny every morning?”
“You have no sense of timing.” Uncle Gary’s voice was distant, probably from the kitchen. “It’s December, Dave. We should be waiting for Santa, not the Easter Bunny.”
“We’re not waiting on either one!” Uncle Dave sounded like he wanted to start thumping his head against the wall. “Just like we’re not going to start believing in witchcraft!”
Verlaine didn’t pay too much attention to any of this. She’d told her dads only that she was going to help Nadia tonight, leaving out the whole “actually descending into hell” bit. If Uncle Dave knew about that, his freak-out could probably be measured on the Richter scale.
Heels or no heels? The dress won’t look right without them, but what if I have to run? What am I talking about? I’ll already be in hell. Can’t run away from that.
Normally Verlaine only wore Converse—or, lately, rain boots. But she owned a few pairs of size-10 modern shoes for dressy occasions, those moments when tennis shoes simply wouldn’t do. If the end of the world didn’t count as a special occasion, nothing did.
Black patent heels on her feet, she sat at her vanity and put the final touches on her makeup. She’d gone all out this time, even studying the tutorials on YouTube for liquid eyeliner. Maybe she was being silly, but fixing up felt like . . . putting on armor. Getting ready for absolutely anything that might come next. Besides, if they were successful, soon she’d see Asa again. Gotta look pretty for that, right?
Of course she knew it wouldn’t matter what she looked like. Asa loved her regardless.
What about you? Are you going to love him no matter what? Verlaine knew that in hell she would see Asa without Jeremy Prasad’s body. He might look like the person he’d been during his long-ago mortal life, whether that was fat or thin, handsome or ugly, well-made or deformed. Maybe he’d had leprosy. People used to get leprosy.
The thought of any regular human problems wasn’t nearly as bad as the idea that Asa might be in his pure demonic form. Verlaine had no idea exactly what that might look like—classic Judeo-Christian demon with horns and tail? Something tentacled and baroque, straight out of Lovecraft? Whatever it was, she felt sure demons didn’t look good.
Could she love something that wasn’t even human?
Verlaine leaned her elbows against her vanity, breathing in the scent of powder and perfume. Her mind filled with thoughts of Asa—flirting shamelessly with her at the Guardian, daring her to call him out as a fake in class, desperately fighting to keep her above water during the flood, burning with unearthly heat as he drew her close to give her back all the love she’d missed for so long . . . and kissing her that first, perfect time, snowflakes floating in the air all around them.
I love him no matter what.
She took a deep breath, pulled herself together, and just had time to fiddle with her hair a moment longer before she heard the doorbell. Then Verlaine pulled on her bulkiest raincoat and headed to the door.
The Caldanis stood in the living room, all three of them; Verlaine had announced to her dads that they’d be babysitting Cole tonight. Nadia’s father looked slightly dazed, like he was still fighting to take it all in, but Cole grinned as he said, “My big sister can do magic!”
“That’s just a metaphor,” Uncle Dave said.
“Is it?” Uncle Gary smiled at Nadia, who stood there in black sweater and leggings, smiling more easily than Verlaine had seen from her in a long time. “Verlaine tells us you’re the baddest witch in town. Except Elizabeth, who is baddest in the literal sense of bad. True or false?”
“True,” Nadia said.
To Verlaine’s surprise, Nadia’s father smiled, too. “I’ve seen her cast spells. It’s pretty amazing.”
“Oh, cool,” Uncle Gary breathed. “Can you do one of those floating pink spheres that takes you anywhere you want to go? Like Glinda in The Wizard of Oz?”
Nadia shrugged. “Never tried it.”
“Wait. Hang on. Are you all serious?” Poor Uncle Dave had to lean against the wall.
Verlaine announced, “No time to prove it tonight, but I’m sure Nadia won’t mind showing you some spells when we get back. Or tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Nadia repeated. Her eyes looked haunted, and from the way her father put his arm protectively around her shoulders, he knew exactly what was at stake. Then Mr. Caldani looked at Verlaine for the first time since she’d come in the room—really looked—and his whole face lit up. “Verlaine. You look lovely.”
“Like a fairy princess,” Cole whispered.
All the extra love was warping their minds, too. Verlaine laughed nervously. “Oh, just did my makeup for once.”
“No, it’s more than that.” Mr. Caldani seemed to catch himself. “Gary, Dave, forgive me if this is inappropriate, because I’m being totally sincere—have you ever introduced Verlaine to modeling agents? She could be on the cover of Vogue.”
If Uncle Dave’s eyebrows had gone any higher, they would have merged with his hairline. “Well. Huh. Nobody has ever suggested that before.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” Verlaine said hurriedly, “but I’m going into journalism. Come on, guys. Let’s head out.”
“Hang on, sweetheart.” Uncle Gary pressed a Tupperware container into her hands; inside were—
“Chocolate chip cookies?” Verlaine wanted to cry. Maybe that was because her dads were so sweet; maybe it was because she knew she might be seeing them for the last time, but couldn’t tell them so. “I can’t believe you made these.”
“Just the rest of the slice-and-bake. I thought you guys might need a sugar fix.”
“Chocolate actually makes magic stronger,” Nadia said. She went on tiptoe to kiss Uncle Gary’s cheek, then ruffled Cole’s hair. “Hey. Verlaine says they have a Wii. Why don’t you ask Mr. Dave if he’ll show you the games?”
Cole brushed her hand away as he tried to smooth out his hair. “Okay. Will you wake me up when you come in?”
Nadia’s chin trembled, and Verlaine put her hand on her friend’s shoulder to steady her. It must have worked, because Nadia’s voice was steady when she answered. “You bet.”
They snacked on the cookies the entire way to Mateo’s house—even Mr. Caldani, who probably needed a comfort-food fix as badly as any of them. All around them were orange reflective cones or barricades, cutting off the flooded roads that shone like dark rivers around all the houses. Some houses had plastic tarps on the roofs or windows, trying to patch leaks and breaks; the rain alone had nearly torn Captive’s Sound apart.
“Are you sure it’s going to be tonight?” Verlaine asked. “The apocalypse, I mean.”
“The near-apocalypse,” Mr. Caldani said stubbornly. The windshield wipers beat at their fastest rhythm; the rain had intensified to a downpour. “Because we’re going to stop it from happening. Right?”
Nadia nodded between bites of her cookie. “Right. And I know it’s happening because Elizabeth is calling me. She wants me with her, helping.”
“Don’t you have to go to her?” Verlaine asked.
“No,” Nadia said. “I can resist. The penalty would be terrible—but what we’re doing is so much worse for Elizabeth, she’s going to forget all about this. Trust me.”
Mateo’s grandmother’s house—correction, Mateo’s house—seemed to glow white amid all the darkness. They dashed in
side, umbrellas held overhead or in raincoats, to walk into the grand foyer. Nadia went right into Mateo’s arms, and they embraced so long that Mr. Caldani clearly felt awkward.
Faye Walsh, who’d been standing in the hallway, came forward to break the weird moment. Her lilac jeans and deep coral sweater seemed to defy the winter gloom. “Mr. Caldani. I see you’ve been brought into the loop.”
“Yeah. But isn’t that against the laws of witchcraft? Or something like that?”
Faye nodded. “I have a feeling the whole rulebook’s going to be rewritten tonight.”
Verlaine shrugged off her raincoat, and instantly, everyone in the room was staring at her. Good. People ought to stare at a red vintage designer gown.
“Wow,” Mateo breathed.
Nadia wasn’t even jealous. “Wow is right. Where did you get that?”
“My greatest eBay victory of all time,” Verlaine squared her shoulders. “If I’m going to see the devil, you’d better believe I’m wearing Dior.”
“Damn straight,” Nadia said. Her black outfit made a sharp contrast to Verlaine’s as Nadia came forward to take Verlaine’s hands—Nadia sleek and ready for action, Verlaine in red satin that billowed out into a full skirt, and her hair pulled up to the crown to give her ponytail a retro look. Yet Verlaine felt closer to Nadia than ever before.
“Are we ready?” Mateo asked. Faye nodded. Mr. Caldani looked like he wanted to object, but he said nothing. Verlaine just squeezed Nadia’s hands, trusting her to understand. However, Nadia didn’t move. After a moment, Mateo said, “Is it not time yet?”
“It’s time.” Nadia’s gaze had turned inward, as she “listened” to whatever magical currents and forces she could sense. “Elizabeth’s at work. She’s going to cast her final spells any moment.”
After a silent few seconds, Verlaine prompted, “So this is where we swing into action, right? Batman and Robin?”
“Not yet,” Nadia said.
What are we waiting for?
The foolish child would not come.
How ridiculous of her. Nadia had sworn herself to the One Beneath, first as any other might, then again to deepen the vow and make it permanent. Why fight it now?
Deep in her heart, though, Elizabeth was glad of Nadia’s stubbornness, her stupidity. This work would be more difficult without her—but that meant Elizabeth alone would be responsible for bringing the One Beneath into this world. His love and gratitude would be hers alone. Never again would she have to feel that terrible jealousy when the One Beneath longed for Nadia; from now on, He would know the strength of Elizabeth’s adoration outweighed any of Nadia’s inherited gifts.
For you alone, my beloved lord.
Elizabeth did regret the demon’s absence, however. She stood on the beach, rain beating down, her feet half-sunk into waterlogged sand. Had Asa been here, she could have used his pain to hurry this final step. Already she was so impatient to see her lord before her, to truly share a world with Him for the first time.
The demon suffered already, of course. Perhaps, in the future reign of hell, she would be able to watch Asa’s torment for herself. How sweet to see him writhe, and to share in the laughter and triumph of the One Beneath.
Within her she felt a strange rending, as though she were being torn at the seams. Nadia’s magic, Elizabeth realized—the girl wasn’t only hiding, she was trying to fight this.
Elizabeth laughed out loud. The rain on her face pounded down hard enough to ache.
Does she want to fight? Then we’ll fight. Let her see what we truly are. Let Nadia Caldani learn the truth about magic at last.
She reached out toward the water, and at her command it began to roil. The waves churned in a dozen directions at once, and foam spiraled higher and whiter. Beneath the surface, a rich and strange orange glow brightened, glowing more and more strongly until it might as easily have been the sun.
Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. She realized—for the first time in centuries, she was crying. Not for sorrow. For joy.
Everything she’d fought for. Every sacrifice she’d made. All of it was being redeemed, here and now.
She held out her hands, all the rings around her fingers shining from the rain, as she cast the spell that tore the world in two.
15
THE WORLDS BEGAN TO SHATTER, TO MERGE.
Nadia’s eyes widened as she hung on to Verlaine’s hands, panic rising inside her until it stifled her breath, tightened her throat. So far this was no more than a tremor within the ground; soon it would become far stronger, and unmistakably supernatural.
“So should we maybe get going to hell around now?” Verlaine said.
“I can open the portal,” Nadia answered. Normally that would have been beyond her powers—but now that the mortal and demonic realms were so close, the journey would be easier.
But Nadia knew they were doomed if she entered hell unarmed. She’d gambled everything on creating the perfect weapon—everything, based on the slimmest of hopes—and now it looked like she’d been hoping in vain. How could she have been so stupid as to hope?
A heavy knock thudded against the door. Everyone jumped.
“Don’t let anyone in,” Faye said. Dad stepped forward, like he wanted to put himself between the rest of them and whoever was out there.
But Nadia knew who it was. “Open it. Now.”
Although Mateo’s eyes searched hers, unsure, he didn’t hesitate. He went to the door and opened it, to reveal a woman standing there, unshielded from the rain. She walked inside, water running from her soaked sweater and skirt, trickling from the long hair plastered to her head, neck, and shoulders. She might have been the survivor of a shipwreck. Really she was the survivor of something far worse.
The worst part was seeing her father flinch—one hand to his gut, like he’d actually been struck. Nadia felt a moment of guilty relief that she hadn’t been able to see his face; just hearing his voice was bad enough when he said, brokenly, “Kim?”
Somehow Nadia forced herself to smile. “Mom. You came.”
“I said I would.” Mom didn’t even seem to get that Nadia would have doubted her; she walked by Dad as though he were just some object in the room, like a table or a chair. “It wasn’t easy to get here. Most airports are closed all over the East Coast. I had to fly into New York, rent a car, and drive from there.” She sounded ticked off, like saving the world was too much trouble for her.
But she couldn’t help that, Nadia reminded herself. Mom had given up all the love in her heart to save Nadia’s life. The bitter, empty shell in front of Nadia now—that was a reminder only of how much love Mom had given up. That emptiness was the shadow of the love before, equally vast.
Verlaine squeezed Nadia’s hands, offering comfort. She whispered, “Should I let go?” Meaning Don’t you want to hug your mom?
Mom wouldn’t want a hug. But that wasn’t the main reason Nadia gripped Verlaine’s hands as tightly as she could. “Don’t let go,” she said. “Whatever happens, whatever you see, you can’t let go until I tell you to. Do you understand? No matter what, Verlaine.”
“No matter what.” Verlaine’s face was even paler than usual, but Nadia didn’t doubt she could handle this. Her friend was a lot tougher than the rest of the world had ever seen.
Dad tried again, “Kim, you came here because of—what—the spells?”
“You told him, I see.” Mom’s laugh was harsh; she only spoke to Nadia, never even glancing at her ex-husband. “Breaking the First Laws right and left.”
“If that’s what it takes,” Nadia said. Then she felt it—a deeper, more terrible sundering of the world below than she’d ever felt before. It was like a cramp in her gut, all the magic that existed being poisoned and bent all at once. “We have to do this.”
“Then let’s do it,” Mom said.
Mateo came closer; she could tell how badly he wanted to hold her, to shield her through all this. But he only said, “What’s going on?”
“The ultimate weapon is forged from hate,” Nadia said. “And where we’re going, I need the ultimate weapon. Nothing less could ever destroy the One Beneath. That means I need pure hatred—completely untouched by love.”
Mom’s smile was a crooked mockery of what it had been before. “I gave away everything that made life worth living to keep my daughter safe, and the One Beneath tricked me. Tricked her. Made my sacrifice meaningless. And you know what? It pisses me off.”
Nadia nodded once at her mother, who put her hand on Nadia’s shoulder. The emptiness Nadia sensed within her—the utter lack of any ability to care—seemed worse, in that moment, than the evil she was trying to fight.
The earth trembled again, stronger this time. Even as Faye cried out in alarm, and Dad braced himself against the wall, Mom just kept smiling. She said, “I can’t love anymore. But I can damn sure hate.”
Nadia closed her eyes and called upon a spell she had never tested before. The very first spell she had ever created herself.
A spell for forging a weapon of the spirit:
One who does not fall to cruelty.
One who does not fall to sorrow.
One who does not fall to danger.
The memories came to Nadia, fuller and richer than they had been even when she lived them.
Verlaine, ignoring the sneers and disdain of everyone around her as she walked through Rodman High in her vintage clothes and unwavering smile.
Dad, trying to cook dinner for his kids even though he had no idea how, and making jokes for them just like his heart hadn’t been broken.
Mateo, diving into the sound where Nadia was trapped underwater, taking her in his arms, pressing his mouth to hers, and breathing the air from his lungs into hers.
Nadia didn’t see the weapon. It wouldn’t be visible here, in this world; it was made out of stuff truer and realer than the regular world would show. But she felt it, a weight settling on and around her, yet making her stronger. Mateo’s nearness enhanced her power as it always did—he was a part of this, part of every spell she cast. The purity of her mother’s hatred flowed through her, terrible in every way, and yet Nadia could feel it taking shape. Sharpening. Coming to a point.