by E. E. Holmes
I turned to see her looking down at her own hands twisting in her lap, as though she were ashamed to even have asked for what she needed. She looked like a child. I could have cried, but I refrained for her sake.
“Of course, I will,” I told her. I walked back to the bed and tossed my folder full of interview questions onto the bedside table. I pointed to the tray on Flavia’s lap. “Are you done with that?”
“Yes,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the cold remains of the food on her plate.
I lifted the tray from her lap and placed it on the bedside table with my folder. “Scooch over, then. Don’t be a bed hog,” I told her, and she did so, giving me a tearful smile. I slid onto the bed next to her, adjusted her blankets so that she was carefully tucked in, and laid down beside her. She took my hand and held it tightly against her.
“You know what the worst part is?” she whispered after a few moments.
“What?”
“They were right. This was what our clans always warned us about,” she said, and she adopted a stronger Romanian lilt to her speech as she added, as though in the voice of her Clan Elders, “The greater world cannot be trusted, and that is why we band together in blood. That is how we thrive: together but apart, isolated but protected. That is why we have survived so long.”
And I could see it in her face; everything she’d fought so hard for—her independence, her education, her freedom—she was doubting that any of it had been worth it.
“You don’t really believe that, do you?” I asked her.
She looked up at me, her face twitching with repressed emotion. “Maybe not forever, no. But I do today.”
5
Tribute
I HAD NO INTENTION of falling asleep there with Flavia, but so many nights of fractured sleep had taken their toll on me, and rather than just closing my eyes for a few moments, I woke with a start to see late afternoon sun streaming in through the high windows.
I sat up and stared anxiously all around me for some sign that the prophecy had yet again taken control of me while I slept, but I could find no trace of the familiar drawing anywhere. I heaved a sigh of relief as I extricated myself gently from Flavia, taking great care not to wake her. I tucked her hand under her blankets and pulled my phone from my pocket to check the time. It was nearly six o’clock. I had very nearly slept right through Bertie’s funeral.
“Damn it!”
I ran all the way back to my room, swearing under my breath as I went. I wrenched open the closet door, forgetting all about the pile of drawings in my haste. They drifted out into the room like snow. Swearing some more, I dropped to my knees and shoved them back into the darkness and then snatched my obligatory white ceremonial clothes and my clan colors off the rack. The whole time I was dressing, I could feel the presence of the drawings, staring at me like eyes, silently begging to be released from their cage and revealed to the world.
“I’m working on it, okay?” I muttered, unsure if I was talking to the drawings, or my Seer gift, or myself. “Just… behave yourself.”
We all knew how good I was at behaving myself.
“Where’ve you been?” Hannah asked, as I jogged into the courtyard at last. I attracted a few disapproving glares, which I chose to ignore, seeing as flipping people off would only increase the dirty looks and probably wasn’t good funeral etiquette.
“I was visiting Flavia and apparently decided it would be a good use of my time to take a quick, seven-hour nap,” I said.
“I’m not surprised. You’ve barely slept all week,” Hannah said, giving me a critical look, like she was considering sending me back to bed. “I was wondering why you weren’t answering through the connection. I was about to send Milo out to go look for you.”
“Hello? I’m an eternal source of otherworldly guidance, not an errand boy,” Milo interjected indignantly. He was sitting just behind Hannah, next to Tia, who was looking a bit frightened and out of place. Hannah had lent her a white sundress so that she could try to blend in. She had requested to be allowed to stay for the funeral, a request that Celeste had granted in light of all that Charlie Wright had recently put Tia through. Tia had never actually met Bertie, but she felt compelled to pay her respects to him, seeing as he had died at Charlie’s hands.
“How is Flavia doing?” Tia whispered.
“She’s awake,” I told her. “She’s still really weak, but she’s awake and talking.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Tia said, while Hannah and Milo also made exclamations of relief. “What about Phoebe?”
“No change yet, but if Flavia is on the mend, it’s only a matter of time, right?” I said.
“Let’s hope so, for Savvy’s sake,” Hannah said. “You didn’t see her on the way down, did you?”
“No, I…” my voice died away. At the mention of Savvy, I looked around for her and took in the details of my surroundings for the first time, details that I had missed in my haste not to be late.
It looked as though the courtyard was playing host to a performance rather than a funeral. An enormous platform had been erected, much taller than necessary for all the gathered spectators to see what was going on. Behind it, a huge purple velvet drape had been strung between two poles like a backdrop. A table stood in the middle of the platform, but there was no sign of a casket or any other trapping that might suggest a person was about to be laid to rest.
“What’s with the stage?” I asked no one in particular, but it was Hannah who answered.
She slid over to make room for me on the stone bench and patted the empty space beside her. “I don’t know. Maybe there’s some kind of ceremony?”
I nodded absently. The Durupinen loved their elaborate ceremonies. I took the seat and turned back to Hannah. “Sorry, I got distracted. What did you ask me?”
“I asked you if you saw Savvy on your way down. I’m starting to get worried. It’s going to start in a few minutes. I thought maybe she was with you, but… you don’t think she’s going to miss it on purpose, do you?”
“I don’t think so. I’ll go look for her,” I said, jumping to my feet.
“Don’t take too long, Jess, or you’ll be late!” Hannah hissed at me.
“I’ll be quick,” I assured her as I jogged back across the courtyard, being sure to greet every nasty look with an especially saccharine smile.
Halfway to the castle doors, Savvy’s mentee Frankie intercepted me. Her sister, whom I had only met once or twice, lingered behind her, nodding at me shyly.
“Hi, Jess,” Frankie said. She tried to smile, but the resulting expression was a grimace at best. “Have you seen Savannah?”
“No, I haven’t seen her since breakfast. I’ve been—well, I was caught up with Tracker stuff all day,” I hedged, not wanting to admit I’d been asleep for the better part of the day. “She isn’t down at the service yet; I was just in the courtyard.”
Frankie bit her lip. “I was supposed to meet her at her room and we were going to walk down together, but she wasn’t there.”
“I was just heading in to look for her. I’ll find her, don’t worry. She’s probably just…” I shrugged, and Frankie nodded knowingly.
“Yeah. I think we all are,” she replied. Then, with a nod of thanks, she and her sister headed in the direction of the courtyard.
The castle was nearly deserted as I hurried through it, passing only the occasional spirit drifting through the corridors. Everyone had already gone out to the grounds. I tried Savvy’s room first, in case she’d returned to it since Frankie had stopped by, but my knocks went unanswered. I considered for a moment that Savvy might be inside, purposely ignoring all attempts to contact her, but I didn’t think so, for some reason. Because of all we’d been through together, I just couldn’t believe that Savvy would hear me calling for her and not answer me.
I started back down the hallway and then stopped, thinking.
Where would Savvy go? Where would she go to hide and avoid something she didn’t want to face? A flash
of memory came to me, and it was almost enough to make me smile… almost.
I knew where she was.
She had drawn the shower curtain, but I could hear her sniffling. I smelled the smoke before I saw it, curling and twisting in a little serpentine plume before dissipating against the ceiling tiles.
“Knock, knock,” I said softly.
I heard her swear under her breath before she replied, in a thick, tear-choked voice, “I hate those bloody jokes.”
“Me, too,” I said. “Can I come in?”
“I ain’t stoppin’ ya.”
I pulled the curtain to reveal her sitting on the shower bench, knees pulled up under her chin, a cigarette dangling from one hand and a silver flask clutched in the other. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, and her hair obscured half of her face.
I sat down beside her, and she pulled her foot in to make room for me on the bench.
“How did you find me?” she asked, after a few seconds of silence.
“I tried to think of where you might go if you wanted to hide from something. This was the first place that sprang to mind.”
“Really? You remembered that?”
“It’s not every day a stranger busts into my shower and tells me I’ve got nice tits,” I told her. “Let’s just say you left an impression.”
Savvy tried to smile, but her lips didn’t have the heart to curve. They trembled a moment, then drooped back into a miserable downturn.
“So, what’s going on, Sav? I know you didn’t come down here just for a shower, or you would have invited me.”
She looked me in the eyes and sighed. “I’m drunk,” she announced.
“I can see that.”
“Didn’t set out to be. Told myself I’d just grit my teeth and bear it.” She sighed and raised the flask. “Guess that plan’s gone to shite.”
“Indeed, it has,” I agreed. “Don’t worry about it. Plans aren’t your cup of tea anyway.”
“That’s for bloody sure,” Savvy said, draining the flask with one last swig and then tossing it onto the floor. It clattered noisily away across the tiles and came to a stop with a dull thunk against the far wall. She stared at it intently, as though she were expecting it to get up, dust itself off, and walk away.
“I came down to see if you wanted to come up to the courtyard with me,” I told her quietly. “I thought maybe we could walk there together.”
Savvy dragged her sleeve across her face, sniffling loudly. “I can’t, Jess. I just can’t bloody do it.”
“Okay,” I said. “Tell me why you can’t do it.”
“Last night, I was all right, you know? I talked myself into it, like. I knew it would be awful, but I knew I had to be there,” Savvy said.
“So, what changed?” I asked her, when she didn’t go on. “You seemed to be okay at breakfast.”
“I went outside!” she cried. The cigarette fell from her trembling fingers and was extinguished with a soft hiss in a puddle of water on the shower floor. “I couldn’t eat a damn thing, so I went outside for a fag instead, and I saw it.”
“Saw what?” I asked her.
She blinked at me. “In the courtyard! In the bloody courtyard! Ain’t you been out to the courtyard yet?”
“Yeah, I was just there,” I said, keeping my voice calm even as I tried to understand what had her so rattled.
“Well, you saw it, then, didn’t you?” Savvy asked me, eyes wide with indignation and incredulity, as though accusing me of something.
“Saw… saw what?” I asked. “I… there was a platform with a huge curtain hung behind it. I don’t remember seeing anything—”
“Well, it’s behind the bloody curtain, then,” Savvy said, pulling a cigarette from the crumpled pack in her pocket and attempting to light it, but her hands were shaking too badly.
“What’s behind the curtain?” I asked tentatively. “Is it the casket? Because I know caskets are upsetting, but…”
“No, it’s not a casket!” Savvy cried, her voice rising to a shrill, hysterical screech now. “I don’t care about a bloody casket, do I? Who cares about a wooden box?”
“Well, then what are you—”
“It’s a fucking pyre!” Savvy shrieked, tears spilling down her cheeks. “They’re not just going to drop him into a hole in the ground—as if that wouldn’t be awful enough. No! No, when a Caomhnóir dies, they build a fucking bonfire and roast him in front of a crowd of people like he’s a bloody Viking!”
I felt a wave of nausea at the thought. “Oh, Sav. Oh, Jesus. I had no idea.”
“Nor did I, but don’t you think it would have been nice of someone to warn me?! You know, just a ‘Hey, Savvy, did you get some breakfast? Oh, just a heads up, we’re going to light your Caomhnóir on fire and then make you watch him burn until there’s nothing left but some charred bones and a pile of ash.’” Her words were tumbling out, mounting each other as though racing to get away from the unbearable image that had chased them forth. Her cigarette tumbled from her mouth as she turned and started punching the wall behind her as hard as she could.
“Oh, my God, stop! Savvy, stop it!”
I jumped to my feet and threw my arms around her, heaving her away from the wall even as she landed another blow on the tiles, leaving them smeared with blood. She twisted and struggled against me, all the while spewing forth an unintelligible stream of sobs and curses and expletives, wishing each one was another blow she could destroy something with.
She lunged for the wall again and we overbalanced, falling back into the corner of the stall. She began lashing out with her feet and I stared wildly around for a way to subdue her. Then my eyes fell on the shower faucet handle. I reached around Savvy’s flailing arms and twisted it on, so that both of us were suddenly doused in icy cold water.
It worked. Savvy gasped and screamed, but her body went stiff and still in my arms as the chill of the water shocked her out of her outburst. I held on to her tightly, eyes shut against the water. I listened as her shrieks turned to sobs and her body sagged. She turned and buried her face in my neck, still crying inconsolably, and together we sank down onto the floor of the shower stall.
And the tears were hot, and the water was cold, and the pain was shattering, and all I could do was sit there and hold her while she came apart, holding all the pieces together for her because she couldn’t hold them together herself.
I don’t know how long we sat there, rivulets of water running over us and pooling around us, but it felt like a long time. The tears slowed and the gasps turned to shuddering breaths as Savvy finally cried herself out. At last, I felt like I could reach up behind me and shut the water off. The dripping echoed loudly in the stillness that followed.
“It’s my fault, Jess. It will never not be my fault,” Savvy said at last.
“I know that feels true right now. I know it does. But it’s not your fault, Sav. Truly, it’s not.”
“It is. I know you’re my mate, and you want to make me feel better, but it just ain’t true, what you’re saying.”
I turned to her and waited for her to push the sodden curls out of her eyes so that she could look at me. “Was it my fault when Pierce died?”
Her eyes went wide. “I… that’s not the same… no, of course it wasn’t.”
“Whose fault was it?” I asked quietly.
“It was those bloody Necromancers that killed him,” she replied, almost grudgingly.
“Exactly. Don’t let them do this to you, Sav. It’s bad enough that they took him. Don’t take the blame for them. They deserve every ounce of the hatred you’re heaping on your own head right now.”
“I can’t help it. I can’t stop thinking about how awful I was to him, Jess,” Savvy whispered. “I never had a single kind word for him, and all he was trying to do was protect me. I mean, he was absolute shite at it, but he tried his best.”
“I don’t think that mattered. This system is so fucked up. None of the Caomhnóir and Durupinen get along. There’s so much tensi
on, and so much resentment. Look at how I treat Ambrose, for God’s sake! It’s not his fault that Finn is gone, but I take it out on him every chance I get. It’s shitty, and I know it, but I can’t help it. But Bertie never let it bother him. He took pride in it, Sav. He was proud to be your Caomhnóir,” I told her.
“But I was never proud of him, and I should have been. Maybe then, he wouldn’t have gone charging off to the hotel. Maybe he wouldn’t have felt like he had something to prove.”
“But he would have felt that way regardless,” I told her. “It’s the Caomhnóir mentality. He didn’t charge off to that hotel because of you. He did it because that’s what he’s been told practically from birth that he’s supposed to do—fling himself into harm’s way in the name of the Northern Clans. It’s messed up, but it’s true. It’s their culture. And it’s probably why so many of them resent us so much. We’re evil temptresses who will make their lives hell and yet they are forced to be around us twenty-four seven and lay down their lives without a second thought if one of us is in danger. You didn’t create this system, Savvy. You’re just a victim of it, and so was Bertie.”
Savvy sniffed for a few moments, evidently letting these ideas sink in. Then she said, “It’s got to change, then.”
“I’m hoping it will,” I said. “So is Hannah. She’s already working on it. Maybe you can even help her.”
Savvy picked her head back up off my shoulder. “Help her? You reckon? How?”
“She’s drafting legislation that will totally change the Durupinen–Caomhnóir dynamic. She’s doing it for me, obviously—well, for me and Finn—but we’re not the only reason. The way things are right now is toxic. We could change that. That’s a very real thing that we could do, for Bertie, for Finn… for everyone.”
Savvy sniffed again. “It would feel good, I think. To have something to do.”
“I think so too,” I said, wishing at the same time that I had nothing at all to do—no mystery looming over my head, no great riddle that needed solving before our entire world was thrown into chaos again. “And there is one other thing we have to do now.”