by K. M. Szpara
He knocks on the door and the FOE guarding the hallway opens it. They’re going to let me walk right out of here, under his supervision. My heart throbs in my chest as I follow. As he pulls the door open and leads me into the hallway.
Even though we’re on the first floor, the way this space is enclosed—how insulated and winding the inside of this “hotel” is—reminds me of the belly of a beast. Our footsteps fall softly against the thick carpet. Muted voices, sniffles, and weeping bleed from behind closed doors. I’d reach out to Zadie and Maeve with mindspeech, but Kane is so close, surely he’d hear and then my plan would be ruined.
Light brightens the end of the hallway where it opens into a communal space with chairs and end tables and a FOE whose uniform reads FBI. Beyond them, an even bigger space, illuminated by sunlight through wide windows. A door. I can take one FOE. And Kane, I remind myself. Could I fight him if I needed to? Yes. For his own good.
“I’m going to see if she’s available,” he says, eyes landing on a door marked CONFERENCE ROOM A.
I nod and loosen my grip on him. Kane knocks, pressing his ear to the wood and waiting for an answer. When he doesn’t get one, he grips the handle. Presses down and pushes open.
Now. Now’s my best chance, while he’s distracted. My hand slips easily from his grip while he leans through the open door. Walk calmly. With determination, I move toward the door, feel the warmth of a sun-filled space and the FOE’s eyes on my body. I don’t look at them. Don’t look. Almost past.
They step in front of me with a firm “Stop. You’re not authorized to—”
I feel calm—feel the last of my power welling up inside me. With a flick of my wrist, I slam the FOE at the wall, like I did Deryn. But maintaining the connection exhausts me. I’m not on Druid Hill anymore. Don’t have the resources to discipline myself or recharge my magic. I relinquish my hold and break into a run. The sunlight barely touches my skin before a shock buries itself in my back and seizes my entire body. I feel the scream in my throat, but it sounds distant, feels like I am outside myself. As I lose control of my body and fall stiffly to the ground, I wonder whether this is what the last throes of magic feels like.
3
DERYN / NOW
Footfalls pound past the door of Conference Room B. Inside, I make myself tall. Thrust my shoulders back and my chest out. Hold my head up as if I’m balancing a tray on it, as if one of the FBI agents might walk in suddenly and ask me to prove my worth. What for, I don’t even know. The only information I’ve gathered has come from the volume and tone of conversations muted by carpets and walls. The only thing I’m sure of is that I’m out. Outside the fence. Out of the Fellowship. That sends cool relief coursing through my body—
The door jolts open.
—but doesn’t reassure me that these outsiders are trustworthy. I startle, quickly readjusting my posture to hide my surprise as an outsider walks in and sits opposite me. They set a folder on the table between us, then push up their already-rolled cuffs. Run a hand through their hair. It’s short, the longest strands no more than six inches slicked back.
I mimic the motion, wondering what it would feel like not to carry this weight on my neck. To work and run without my hair falling in my face. Fellows aren’t allowed to bind their hair like the Anointed do. It strikes me that I might be free from those rules. That out here, Anointed and Fellow mean nothing.
“Sorry I’m late,” the outsider says, “I got—”
“Do you have an elastic?” I lean forward, forgetting the effort I was putting into my stance. Suddenly, this is more important.
The outsider raises their eyebrow. “For your hair?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Um.” They look between me and the door. “No, but I can get you one after this.”
“Thanks.” I sit back in my chair, feeling the confidence flood me. This outsider took my request seriously. “What’s your name?”
“Agent Miller.”
“Pronouns?”
“She/her.”
Nova always told us outsiders have no sense of self, that their proximity to monsters erodes their ability to know themselves like we do. But Agent Miller doesn’t flinch at my questions. “Agent, is that your first name, or are you a FOE? You don’t look or smell like one. I expected you to smell like rotten meat—that’s what Nova always told us. But you’re wearing a uniform, so you must be.”
She holds up her left hand and takes a pen with her right. “Back up.” Her handwriting is small and cramped. “What’s a foe?”
“F-O-E,” I spell. “It stands for Forces of Evil. Outsiders who work in conjunction with monsters. They wear uniforms and enforce outsider law. They’re supposed to look different, wrong—I don’t know how. I’ve never met one before you.”
“Well,” she says, “I assure you I am not in league with any monsters. In fact, I’m trying to take one down.” She rests her pen on the table and sits more casually in her chair. “Agent isn’t my first name, it’s my title. I work for the FBI—the social worker explained that to you, yes?”
I nod.
“You can call me Miller. What can I call you?”
“Deryn, they/them.”
A flicker of recognition crosses Miller’s face, as if she’s heard my name before. “Do you know your surname?”
“My what?”
“Surname, also known as a family name or last name.”
“I only have one name. Do outsiders have two?”
“Sometimes they have three or four.”
“Well, I only have one.” I suddenly feel inadequate, lacking something I never knew I needed. Naked. Like maybe I won’t have a place here either.
“That’s fine.” Miller picks her pen up again. “Do you know who your parents are?”
“Flora and Sky.”
“Are those their legal names?”
“I don’t…” I never knew names could be illegal. Are these the kinds of outsider laws FOEs enforce? I’m not sure I like it.
“Probably not; it’s fine. A legal name is what goes on official government documents, like a state identification card, driver’s license, birth certificate, et cetera.”
My heart beats hot and fast in my chest, pulses in my palms and the soles of my feet. I don’t have any of those. What if they send me back without them?
“Do you know how old you are?”
“Of course.” I latch on to the things I know, the ways I can help. “Everyone knows how old they are. The Anointed can tell you to the damn day. I’m twenty-eight years, six months, thirteen days old.”
Miller cocks her head. “Did you already go on your quest? The other Anointed I’ve spoken to stated they were expected to go on a quest at age twenty-five.”
Goodwill curdles inside me. Does she only want my help because she thinks I’m Anointed? “You can stop interviewing me.” I push my chair out and grab its arms. “I’m not Anointed. I’m a Fellow.”
“You are? But I—” She presses her fist over her closed mouth, as if too stumped to speak. For a full thirty seconds, she stares at me. Rethinks me. Evaluates my worth.
Why am I leaving? Giving up, when this is a chance to prove myself. “I—”
“I’m sorry,” Miller says. I let her cut me off. “I just thought—you talk about FOEs and monsters, and are one of the oldest, if not—”
“I am the oldest.” It comes out an accusation. “And I know plenty. Just because I’m a Fellow doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”
“No, I didn’t mean to imply—it’s been my experience while studying the Fellowship that the Anointed are taught more about the organization’s structures and beliefs than its Fellows.”
She’s not wrong, even though I hate to agree. To tell her the only reason I know a little more than most Fellows is because I used to be Anointed. Can I trust Miller? She works with the outsider authorities that broke up the Fellowship. They’re helping. And I bet Lark isn’t giving them anything.
I could be the one to help.
Here, outside the fence, I could be favored … “Who did it?” I ask. “Before I tell you more, I need to know why we’re here. Which of us talked. We live behind a fence—it’s not like a Fellow walked into town and—”
“You’re right,” Miller says. “A Fellow didn’t.” She pauses, puts down her pen, and crosses her arms. The way she looks at me feels familiar. Cold and powerful. I lower my eyes before she says, “An Anointed did.”
I manage not to look up—not to show the shock on my face. An Anointed. They all love Nova, and Nova monitors them. If one had gone missing, she’d know immediately … “Kane. Kane was on his quest.” Miller doesn’t have to say it. “He went to you.”
“He did,” she says.
It doesn’t make sense; Kane pranced around with the rest of the Anointed like he owned the place. He was the first of the Anointed to go on a quest. He was partnered with Nova’s number one fan, Lark. Lark. Does he know? My lips curl into a slow smile, remembering how he fell apart over the last ten days, wandering aimlessly like an abandoned child. Kane didn’t tell Lark.
I relax, lean back into the warm leather chair. Look at Agent Miller across the conference table with new purpose. “I was Anointed. I was the first born on Druid Hill, the first Anointed by Nova’s grace, and the first to have that taken away.”
Miller folds her hands together, leaning on her notepad. “I didn’t know that was possible. None of my research—would you mind…” She waves me on with her hand, unable to finish her sentence. Rapt.
Power floods my body like I haven’t felt since childhood. For a moment, I’m silent, basking in her attention. “Anything is possible for Nova. We call the chosen ones Anointed—Anointed by whom? Nova. Chosen by whom? Nova. She can and does change her mind, especially when a child’s parents step out of line or question her. Mine were among Nova’s earliest followers, the first to bear a child within Fellowship. So, I was Anointed and, I’ll admit, it was nice.” Miller blurs as I stare past her, my own past seeming to materialize right in Conference Room B.
“I don’t remember my Anointing ceremony; I was an infant. I have vague memories of Kane and Lark joining me—I would only have been three or four. I was alone, and then I wasn’t. It was fun having other kids in Nova’s special classes, training for the magical powers she said we’d develop. But the two of them were born so close together, and those few years between us made a difference growing up. They were close friends, even at six and seven, and Nova encouraged their connection. Looking back, I should’ve seen it coming, but I was only ten.
“Do you know what it’s like to be ten years old and told you’re going to save the world some day? On a very specific day. On your quarter century.” Miller doesn’t answer, and I don’t expect her to—how could she? How could anyone understand? “I carried the weight of those expectations for a decade, but never got the chance to follow through. One morning, Nova showed up at our quarters for Kane and Lark and left me behind. They attended lessons and I didn’t. Neither of them said anything about it to me. They moved out that night.
“Lark stopped talking to me after that—stopped everything. Sitting with me, acknowledging me. He carried on as if we were strangers rather than siblings.”
The conference room comes back into focus, and I am aware of the numbness that’s settled into my limbs, making them heavy and cold. I blink. Roll my shoulders and neck. Feel the warmth of life come back to me.
“You mean siblings in a figurative way,” Miller says. “Like you, Kane describes the other Anointed as family.” She makes a note then looks up for confirmation.
“No, I’m being literal, but I’m sure Kane and Lark consider themselves family. Lark and I are actual siblings—have the same parents. Don’t remind him of it, though, unless you’re ready for a fight. The day I was forsaken, I was also forgotten. Lark only cares about his quest. About his magic and his training and Nova. He loves Kane, but he might love his status more—I’m not sure how that’s going to hold up against Kane’s betrayal.”
Agent Miller stops writing. “You implied earlier that Nova revoked your status because your parents stepped out of line. Why, when Nova forsook you, as you called it, did she not also forsake Lark?”
I’ve asked myself the same question a thousand times, and the real answer is I don’t know. I’ve never known what Nova saw in Lark that she didn’t see in me. I don’t even think he remembers I was Anointed. “I don’t know the exact reason, probably won’t ever. I assume forsaking one of us was enough to put the pressure on, the implication that their other child could also be. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lark’s status was also under threat, but he never knew.”
“Lark never questioned whether the same would happen to him?”
I shake my head. “Not that I’m aware of. I’ve never known anyone surer of themself.”
“Okay.” She looks at her notepad. “I’m trying to compile a list of Fellowship members, their names, ages, relationships, jobs within the Fellowship, and designation as Fellow or Anointed. If I provide you a list of what we have so far, would you be able to confirm my information and fill in anything we’re missing?”
“Sure,” I say, trying to muster the power I felt only a short while ago. A struggle I’ve grown used to over the years. “I’ll help however I can.”
“I appreciate that,” Miller says. “Most haven’t been so forthcoming. Your cooperation would go a long way to show others they can trust us.”
I purse my lips. “Obviously, I’ve decided to trust you, since I’m here talking with you, but why should the others? As far as they—we—have been taught, you’re evil.”
“Do I seem evil to you?”
I shrug. “No, but I’ve been around longer than most and have seen how things work. I’m not your average Fellow. You’re the first outsider I’ve had a real conversation with, but I don’t know you and can’t vouch for you the way I would for my Fellows. I don’t think you’ve corrupted me—I certainly don’t feel any different, but … if you want me to put my full trust in you, to encourage other Fellows to do the same, it would help if you disclosed your plans. What’s going to happen to the Fellows? The Anointed? Nova? Will you send us back home, or are we expected to join the outside world?” I’m not sure what I want the answer to be. Druid Hill is familiar, but there are possibilities beyond the fence.
“We’re not sure yet,” Miller says. “Where you end up depends on what happens to Nova.”
“What do you want to happen to her?” I hold my breath. Try not to hope. For once, I could determine my own future.
“Personally, I’d like to see her behind bars.” She pauses. “As for the rest of you, I’d like to see families reunited and eased into society. Children enrolled in schools, adults given job training. We have social workers on staff to help get personal documents in order and arrange for financial assistance, but, even more so, mental health professionals and other community-level organizations have reached out to help. You all are big news.”
I don’t know if this is the answer I wanted. I don’t know what outsiders mean by financial assistance, or which of their laws Nova broke. Of course, Nova ruined my life and molded the lives of dozens of others like me, but I don’t hate everything she represents. The Fellowship was my home, despite the limitations it placed on me. But if it’s no more, then I am damn well going to make sure I have a place in the outside world. One I make for myself, that can’t be taken from me.
Agent Miller slides a blank notepad toward me, along with a pen. “If you would write down those names now, with any other information you can offer, it would really help. I’ll bring around what we already have momentarily.”
“Absolutely,” I say, picking up the pen. Staring down the blank page. Wondering whether I can fill it with enough useful information to prove my worth here.
Miller pushes her chair out. Stands, hands still resting on the table. “One more question,” she says, as if she’s been debating whether to ask it this whole time. “Do you recal
l whether Nova had any children of her own?”
“I don’t think…” The sentence dangles from my lips. It’s hard to remember. Druid Hill feels timeless, like it’s always existed exactly the way it does now. Did, until recently. But it hasn’t. I was Anointed, and then I wasn’t. “Nova had a child and then she didn’t.” I say it out loud to myself, unsure whether I’ve imagined the memory. “I can’t be sure Nova never gave birth on Druid Hill; she could easily have done so in secret, especially since children are raised communally from birth, never knowing their parents. Mostly. The practice wasn’t fully established during the earlier years, which is why I know Lark is my brother.” Think, Deryn. “But I’d swear there was already another child—older than me. I was so young, though, I wouldn’t know their name or age or whether they were Anointed. I’m not even sure they existed.”
“That’s okay.” Agent Miller pushes her sleeves up again. When she smooths her hands through her hair, loose strands fall across her face. She looks determined. Like she’s neglected herself in favor of a quest.
When she reaches for the door, I draw in a breath. Even though she’s asked for my help and left me with a task, I find myself wanting to give more, be more—
“I’d like you to come with me.” Miller turns to look at me, gripping the doorknob. “Back to Druid Hill. I think Nova’s stashed records somewhere, and I could really use the help of someone familiar with the space. Someone who grew up there, but isn’t too attached.”
My chest clenches. I don’t want to go back, but—
“Kane has agreed to come as well. If that matters to you.”
An Anointed. I roll my eyes before remembering he’s the one who betrayed Nova. Does that make a difference? He never befriended me, or any other Fellows, when we were on Druid Hill. Wasn’t as rude as Lark, but never tried to be kind. We were the first two Anointed. He was the first to forsake me.
“I want to help,” I say. When my confidence returns, this time, it’s hot and determined. “I’ll go.”