by K. M. Szpara
Miller leans her elbows on the table and stares into her oats as she says, “She’s my mother. At least, she gave birth to me.”
That gets my attention—and Kane’s. We both sit up. I forget the phone. “You asked me if Nova had any children, but you already knew the answer.”
“I knew she had me,” she says. “But I escaped twenty-three years ago.” She shrugs, raises her eyebrows as if she couldn’t care less. “For all I know, Nova had a dozen children after me.”
“We were her children,” Kane says. “The Anointed.”
“I know,” Miller says. “That’s why I left.” She picks up her spoon as if she’s going to keep eating, but sets it down with a clank on the side of her yellow-rimmed bowl. It sticks in the thick goop. “I remember you, Deryn, though I’m sure neither of you remembers me. I’m seven years older than you, ten older than Kane—and it makes such a difference when you’re that young. I remember the day my parents bought Druid Hill from the city. They were so excited, and I was thrilled. A whole park just for me.” For a moment, her eyes glimmer. “They withdrew me from school, and we set to work building. My parents had been planning for years, but I didn’t notice. I was a child. All I cared about was running over the hills and playing on the swings. There were no more animals in the zoo—hadn’t been for a couple of years, the place was in decline—but Dad bought goats. And then there were sheep and chickens.
“It wasn’t long before we started taking in people: single mothers or pregnant couples who were low on resources, people dealing with unplanned pregnancies. Nova told them their children were gifts. That they were special.”
“Anointed,” Kane says dreamily.
Miller nods. “You were the first,” she says to me. “That’s why I thought, when I saw you again, that you were one of them, like Kane and Lark still were.”
“First Anointed, first forsaken.” Decades-old bitterness infuses my voice. “Nova wanted our parents, mine and Lark’s, to stop seeing us, after he was Anointed. We were taking special classes with her already, as kids. She wanted more control over our upbringing—for us to love her. But our parents weren’t willing to give us up. After all, they came to Druid Hill so I’d have a better life. And then Nova took it away. Forsook me. That was enough to send the message: comply or risk your children’s future. They didn’t care about the rules when mine was at stake, but clearly drew the line at Lark’s.”
“If you can identify them for me, when we return, I’ll look into what happened,” Miller says. “I have so many questions for you all. I didn’t start investigating when Kane escaped; I’ve been investigating my whole life.” She pauses. Looks at her coffee but doesn’t drink any. “By the time Lark was anointed, it was clear that Nova no longer cared about me as her daughter, or about my father as her husband. She considered her Anointed her only family. So we left. Dad woke me up, with no warning, in the middle of the night. We stole the key to the gate, and we snuck out.”
“How’d you get past the patrol?” Kane asks. “We monitor the gate and the fence.”
“She didn’t back then. You think it’s to keep monsters out?”
Kane’s face twists as he realizes he’d been working to keep the Fellowship in. “I should’ve known. It makes sense—I think I knew it in the back of my mind.”
Anger wells up inside me, for myself, for Agent Miller—even for Kane. And it’s all Lark’s fault. His zeal is the reason Nova neglected her own child and husband. Why our parents were willing to sacrifice me but not him. And now he’s abandoned Kane for questioning his faith. “So, why are we going after Lark, then? Why do you need Kane’s testimony? Is mine not enough?”
“Because you’re not Anointed,” Miller says. “Sorry.”
“Not anymore, but I—”
“It’s not the same,” Kane says. “Your powers never manifested. You’ve never worked magic. You never…”
“I never what?” I am closer to Kane than I’ve ever been, and he’s still holding back. Why won’t he just talk to me? None of them ever talk to me.
He growls in frustration, slamming his knife onto the table. “You’re so dense, Deryn! How do you think I got all those scars?”
“Training? Fighting?” I feel myself about to say, Nova? but stop. “She didn’t…” My stomach turns as I remember the charges Miller arrested Nova for. As I remember what Kane’s body looks like under that shirt. He didn’t get those scars from one incident, but dozens. Dozens and dozens and dozens of wounds. Is that what I escaped?
“No.” Kane picks back up his knife and other butter packet. His fingers are shaking too hard to open its delicate flaps. “Nova never…” he says, not looking up. “Lark did.”
“What the fuck?” Outsider profanity flies between my lips without thought. “Why?”
“Because that’s how you build up magic.” His lips tighten into a toothless smile. A long thin line that wilts as he tries to hold it. “Through discipline. Through pain.”
“Did the others—” Oh no. “Did you?”
“Yes,” he hisses. “I had no choice.”
“Of course you had a choice,” I shout.
Miller shushes me, gesturing apologetically at our server as they pass by with armfuls of someone else’s breakfast.
I’m not placated. “You didn’t have to hurt people, especially not the ones you love.”
“He asked me to.” Kane leans forward, slinging his words at me. “He begged for every lash. That is why I won’t testify unless Lark is back here, safe with me. Because Lark believes. Because he is the most swept up in Nova’s lies, he is also the one who has been the most hurt by her, inside and out. The more he continues on a quest she gave him, to charge nonexistent magic, and fight people in the name of righteousness—the harder it will be for him to deprogram.”
“But if you all went through the same…” I don’t know what happened to them—don’t want to imagine how those marks were made, those divots and lines—so I don’t speak for him. “I mean, you can all do magic, or, you know what I mean.” Blood warms my cheeks. I’m still not sure what Miller expects us to believe. Kane clearly doesn’t want to tap into his magic, and she told him it wasn’t real—so why would she ask him to use it? “What about Zadie and Maeve? Why does Miller even need your testimony, much less Lark’s?”
“Their testimonies will help,” Kane says. “But they won’t mean the same as mine or Lark’s.”
“Why?” I’m loud. Louder than I should be. Again.
“Is it not enough for you to believe me?” Kane grits his teeth. “Stars, I do not want to talk about this at breakfast.” He slams his elbows down on the table and his head into his hands.
“You don’t have to,” Miller says, as if she cares how he feels all of a sudden.
“I know.” Kane is quiet for a second. Two seconds. Three, five, ten, twenty—it feels like eternity. “Nova knew he believed, so she put faith in him,” he says finally. “I was the oldest Anointed, it should’ve been me. I should’ve faked it better, but I couldn’t. I doubted her teachings when Lark never did. The way he took his pain, he—I don’t think he’d even call it suffering. He loved what we did. For Lark, pain was the way, and the way was magic. He welcomed pain as his way to save the world. It’s why he’s run off to do exactly that.”
I glance back down at the phone, remembering my search results. It’s gone to sleep, but I enter the password to wake it back up. Miller and Kane don’t seem to notice. The former must be so used to outsiders on devices, and the latter has his head in his hands. The screen flicks on, and there Lark is, sitting beside a pool in the dark. Features illuminated from below by a blurred source of light. The image captioned, “Ex-Cultist on the Run.” Beside that, “Magic: Is It Real?” And, “Dangerous or Delusional?”
I touch the first one, not interested in what outsiders think about the others. Why do they feel qualified to speculate? If Nova was right, they’re the corrupt ones. Though I’m beginning to see why Miller doubted her, why she and
her father left. Why Kane left, in the end. If I’d known, would I have run too? Would I have stopped Lark from hurting Kane and dragged them along with me? I couldn’t have, even if I’d wanted to. He’s too strong and too set in his ways. Kane is right. Lark believes, and his belief is powerful.
“Last spotted in a West Virginia Motel 9,” I read, pushing the words up to make room for new ones.
Miller cranes her neck to look, before remembering she can simply take the phone from me. It is hers, and she reaches out. I give it freely. “Fuck.” That word sounds lighter on her lips than on mine, but still, this must be bad news. “I’m glad one of us is paying attention. We need to go.” She thrusts the phone back into my hand. “You’re in charge of this. Keep searching. Come on, Kane.”
He scrambles to untangle himself from napkins and dinnerware, plastic cream cups and paper packets—the detritus of morning coffee. I follow briskly, fixing my borrowed sweater so that it hangs straight over my dress. It’s the only thing I still have from home, wrinkled from sleep.
I surge after Miller with purpose. We have to find Lark, whatever it takes. He’s the one Nova trusted, because he believes in her. The one who asked to be tortured, who eagerly did the same to Kane. Who liked hurting, and being hurt. As far as I’m concerned, he’s as guilty as Nova. And when we find him, I’m going to tell Miller so.
What if he didn’t know any better? tugs at my chest. You didn’t, and he’s your brother. I hold the thought down and drown it. We have always been different. And, now, it’s my time to be better.
20
LARK / NOW
Red lights glare from the backs of the cars ahead of us, in the quiet of late evening. All we’ve done since Calvin recharged my magic is drive. My legs ache, stiff and cramped. The last sign I saw read WELCOME TO TENNESSEE or MISSOURI or ARKANSAS—I can’t keep outsider boundaries straight. Only one car flies past in the left lane, its siren screaming, while others crawl to a stop. Something is wrong. I lean between the front seats. Lilian is gripping the wheel, peering around vehicles. Calvin is on his phone, rubbing his finger up its screen while he reads. I should know what’s going on and where we are; this is my quest. Why won’t he tell me?
The evening light dims around us as the air grows heavy. Lilian slows the car. I roll down the window and breathe in the dampness. Fog: a cover for FOEs and monsters. Not a good omen. I sit up straighter and position myself between Calvin and Lilian. “What’s happening? Why is everyone stopping?”
“Traffic.” She pushes a button on the front of the car and a screen lights up with numbers.
A voice spills out of it. “—reports of a major accident in the middle lane on—”
“An accident?” Doubtful. Vile creatures know how to disguise themselves from those who would destroy them. But I am Anointed. I know their tricks.
“Yeah, we might be stuck here for a while.” She presses another button and music starts to play quietly in the front row.
My veins sing as adrenaline rushes through my body. We are vulnerable in the open, packed into rows—every one of us. Calvin, Lilian, hundreds of unsuspecting outsiders, on their phones, listening to music, talking to friends. If a FOE finds me here, strapped into this back seat, it will be hard to escape and impossible to drive away. If a monster shows itself … I don’t dare imagine the carnage our battle would bring.
The car lurches to a stop. Vehicles bunch up in lines on either side of us, blocking any chance of escape. We’re stuck here, exposed. My heart thrums in my chest. I unfasten the belt that’s supposed to hold me in place and protect me. As if this flimsy thing can protect anyone from what’s coming. Only I can.
The fog thickens and swirls as I press my face against the glass. Two figures—one tall and one short—get out of a blue car and run into the surrounding trees. I twist my neck, trying to follow their trajectory. Where are they going? Who would get out of their vehicle in the middle of the road, even if they’re all stopped? I’ve never been on a highway before this quest, and even I know that’s dangerous. The cars could begin moving again at any moment. Another “accident” could happen.
There goes another! I rise onto my knees so I can see better, track the flash of pale skin and dark clothes that dashes from the front seat of a car, to the back. They open its back end, looking for something, before returning safely inside. That’s not a monster, it can’t be. It looks too human—and yet … Another figure approaches, like a feral cat stalking a field mouse. It stops, two rows of cars away.
Pits where eyes should be. Blackened veins under skin that refuses to settle. The FOE looks directly at me. My breath hitches in my throat.
I have to go out there. If Lilian can’t move the car, then I need to make sure she and Calvin are safe. There could be more than one. If they converge on us, Calvin and Lilian can’t protect themselves.
I take inventory. What do I have? My weapons are in the back, but I can reach them over the seats. Patting my harness, I feel the vials I know are stuffed into its leather pockets. I need something for my face, something to keep myself from breathing the fog—if a FOE has deployed it, I risk breathing whatever corruption it carries. What did Calvin pack me in his little bag? Probably nothing sufficient.
I lean over the back seats and scan the bags that fill what the outsiders call the “hatch.” I unzip the bag Calvin packed for me and dig through clothes, looking for anything I can tie around my face—a scarf, bandana. He wrapped a bandana around my injured arm last night. I remember it hanging on the towel rack at the hotel, the brown stains of blood still spotting its bright red and white pattern.
“What are you doing?” Lilian asks, but I ignore her. “Calvin, figure out what he’s—”
“Got it.”
I pull the handkerchief from a plastic bag, still damp. It must not have had time to dry. All the better for filtering the air. I rest it over my shoulder before shoving their bags out of the way and pulling mine to the surface.
“Lark, do you need help finding something?” Calvin asks. I hear the click of his seat belt.
“No.” I draw the long zipper down the length of my bag. The one with my tools and weapons inside. My knives. Spellslinger, still charged and ready.
Arrows. That’s what I need.
“Lark.” I hear him climb between the seats, but the space is narrow and his body is thick, shoulders and thighs wider than mine. Torso a brick. He wasn’t made to crawl through small spaces, climb trees, and run swiftly over great distances. “I can help—”
I pull my bow free and set it in the back seat. Grab a fistful of arrows and fasten my bracer.
His eyes widen, body frozen in the space between the front seats. “What are you doing?”
Lilian’s eyes find mine in the overhead mirror. “What the fuck!”
“I’m going out there.”
“Uh, no you’re not,” Lilian says.
“I am, and you’re not going to stop me. That was the deal we made. You drive, I kill monsters.” I look into Calvin’s eyes. Now he knows what I meant when I said I would pursue my quest at any cost. That I wouldn’t let him hold me back. That I would use my skills whenever and however necessary.
I push my braids out of the way and tie the damp handkerchief around my face. Pack my arrows into their quiver and slide my hand through its strap. “Stay in the car.” I don’t bother addressing Lilian; she doesn’t understand like Calvin does. “If I’m not back in half an hour, go home. No, not home,” I think aloud. “FOEs have probably found where you live already. Go to a motel and wait. Check the news on your phones—I’m sure outsiders will report if I’m successful. A monster is hard to miss.”
“So is your death, if you get hit by a car,” Lilian interjects.
But Calvin doesn’t object. He nods ever so slightly, lips parted as if he wants to say something. Wish me well, or ask to come along. He can’t come with me. He stayed with me while I healed, he washed and braided my hair, he hurt me when I needed it, but he’s not Kane. I trust him
more than I ever thought I’d trust an outsider, but that doesn’t qualify him for battle. Not against FOEs, and especially not against a monster. Only I can save us.
I duck out of the car swiftly, closing the door as quietly and quickly as possible. It’s a fine line. I don’t want the fog leaking in to infect Calvin and Lilian, and I don’t want to attract the FOEs I’ve seen lurking between cars. Feeding off this evil fog. Hunting me.
I speak a quick locking spell into my palm and press it against the front door. I don’t want Lilian to follow me to her death. There may be outsider casualties—I’m at peace with that—but I am still doing this to save them. In the end, they’re victims of the monsters around them. I will do my best to protect them, even if they don’t understand it’s for their own good.
Movement behind me. I turn on my heels, keeping low against the car, quietly making my way to the next one. Outsiders look out their windows at me as I pass. Some roll them down. Others hold up their phones to fingerprint-covered panes. They vanish as I make distance, only their lights following me through the fog: a yellowish white as I walk against the direction of traffic, red if I turn back. I pause only long enough to memorize Calvin’s license plate numbers, so I can return.
If I survive.
It’s only some FOEs. I fought one off yesterday, and I can do it again. I’ve trained for this. I pull an arrow from my quiver and nock it, waiting. A blur of flesh passes between lanes of cars. A form like a person and yet very much not. Its skin squirms, unable to contain the evil within.
I draw my arrow back, in time with my breath, and flatten against a big silver truck. Muted conversation rises inside the vehicle. Fingers tap on the windows until someone shouts for them to stop. I hold my breath as I wait for the distant figure to move again. To show itself.
There.
“Don’t!”
I hear Calvin behind me, and try not to look. Already, I’ve breathed out. Lost my tension and focus.