by Katie Cross
“Well, not much. I mean … it’s not an actual conversation. Mostly fragments.”
“Has it said anything to you just now?”
“Yes. It says it wants retribution.”
To my surprise, Marten’s lips pursed and his brow drooped. “I have little doubt it will get what it wants,” he said. “Mabel is taking this war to the whole world. I fear all of Antebellum will be driven into the fight.”
The canopy of Letum Wood cast a dark shadow, with only pinpricks of light streaming through its layers to illuminate the ground. I stared at it. While Letum Wood possessed a sentient magic of its own, I doubted it could truly understand what it called retribution. I’d seen Mabel’s mind; I’d shared her power. I knew exactly what she was capable of.
And how much she wanted to win.
“Are you ready to go?” Marten asked, interrupting my thoughts with a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Your father will be looking for us by now, I think. The remaining witches here in Dansbury have left to stay with family. Everything is taken care of.”
“Yes,” I said, grateful to leave it behind and more grateful to have a place to return to. “Let’s go.”
The magic of Letum Wood spoke to my heart once more before I transported away.
No more loss.
The Forgotten Children
“So the rumors are true?” I asked Papa the next morning when I flopped onto the chair across from him.
He ate breakfast at the table, wearing a worn suit of half-armor over his broad shoulders. His dark hair had grown out slightly, curling in the damp summer heat. Dirt and sweat streaked the white shirt he wore underneath his armor. I wondered what he could have been doing to get so dirty at this early hour. Then again, Papa was the most unconventional High Priest the Central Network had known—he traded fancy dinners for battles, and meetings for action. Likely, he’d been helping new Guardian recruits train or fighting West Guards in the failing Southern Covens.
The pale light of the sun had just crested the sky, highlighting the steep, gabled spires of Chatham City in the distance. A bevy of unopened messages had collected for him overnight. They lay scattered across the table, some opened, some waiting. Three twirled above his head, the word urgent marked on them in bright red ink. They’d follow him until he opened them, the annoying twits. Everything was urgent these days.
Papa lifted an eyebrow. “What rumors?”
I tossed the newsscroll at him. He caught it in one hand without looking. A new headline blinked across the top of the Chatham Chatterer.
Southern Covens Expected to Fall to South Guards
Despite massive resistance against the combined forces of the Southern and Western Networks, Central Network Guardians have been unable to safely retain land in the Southern Covens. Many witches anticipate High Priest Derek Black to announce a full withdrawal of Guardians within the week.
“We haven’t lost them yet,” he said, waving it away with a spell. “But we’re well on the way if the Southern Network continues to receive support from the West Guards. Which they will.”
“The South Guards can’t do magic, yet we’re losing a chunk of land to them?” I asked. “How is that possible?”
Papa leaned back in his chair. “Magic or not, they still have arms and legs and weapons to fight with. Not to mention the West Guards using Almorran magic to support them. You know as well as anyone that we can’t stop the black fire.”
“Why am I just now hearing about it?” I asked, wounded that as Assistant to the Ambassador—and daughter of the ruling High Priest—I wasn’t kept appraised of new developments in the war.
“Because it’s a rumor.”
“A rumor with an element of truth to it.”
He warily conceded my point. “True, but not one I want growing out of control, the way most rumors seem to do. The Chatterer shouldn’t have published this, but you know how reporters are during a war. They think they’re gods.”
I smiled when he winked at me. A knock at the door startled both of us. Reeves, our self-appointed butler who had shown up one day and refused to leave, opened the door with a spell. Marten waited on the other side.
“Marten,” Papa said. He stood, and the two of them clasped forearms when Marten strode into the room. His shirt hung off his skinny shoulders; he’d lost weight after Mildred, his sweetheart, died. The sunlight streaming into the room reflected off his bald head. Despite the bleak circumstances, he always wore a ready smile.
“Morning, High Priest. Bianca,” he said. “You called for me?”
Papa’s expression grew serious. He leaned his fists on the table. “Yes,” he said. “I’d like your advice on a situation in the Western Covens.”
I straightened up and stole a chunk of bread off Papa’s plate, eager to hear more.
“What’s happened?” Marten asked.
“The Western Network is attacking the dairy farms in the Western Covens,” Papa said. “Over a thousand cows were slaughtered last night. Most of the meat has spoiled in the heat already. They saved what they could, but it wasn’t much. I was hoping you could give me some advice on dealing with the repercussions. The Network, especially the Western Covens, will suffer from the food loss.”
“Of course.”
“Let’s go to my office. The reports are there.”
Papa snapped his fingers. All the messages collected into a pile and flew into his hand. He flicked the top of my head as he gathered up his favorite quill.
“What are you doing today, daughter?”
“Looking for the Book of Light in a library in Newberry and going for a run in Letum Wood. All this war business has me stressed out.”
The Book of Light—which wasn’t much more than a rumor—was a lost tome we hoped held the counter to Almorran magic. So far, my search over the last six weeks had proven futile. I’d rummaged around the whole Central Network—Niko had even let me sift through Magnolia Castle—to no avail. Despite my failure to find it, I refused to give up. It could turn the tide of the war in our favor.
“Haven’t you already looked at the library in Newberry?” Marten asked.
“Yes, but I’m worried I may have missed it.” My brow furrowed. “Of course, all of this may be for nothing. Mabel could have it in the Western Network. Maybe the Southern Network. But that doesn’t seem likely, at any rate. I believe she’d keep it close. If she has it,” I said, holding stubbornly to hope.
Papa’s brows knit together. “Whatever you decide to do, be careful,” he said. “I don’t like you running around Letum Wood without Merrick.”
“You’re the one who sent Merrick away,” I drawled. “Maybe you should bring him back.”
“He’s doing far more important work than running with a wild teenager in the forest.”
“Oh?” I asked, forcing casual nonchalance. “Like what?”
Papa narrowed his eyes at me. “Mm-hmm … I see what you’re doing, B. You won’t win. I won’t tell you where Merrick is or when he’ll be back. And no. I’m not bringing him back just because you miss him.”
I slouched in my chair. “Fine.”
The amusement in Papa’s face abated. “I’m serious, B. Be careful out there. Except for Dansbury, Mabel’s been strangely quiet the last few days. I don’t like it. She’s up to something.”
“I will, Papa. Marten has been training me on defensive spells, and my transportation has come along beautifully.”
Papa hesitated. The last time he’d restricted me from running in Letum Wood, my powers had strengthened beyond my control. His reluctance to forbid me from running was grounded in history—my magic didn’t cope well with being stuck in a castle.
“You’re an adult now, Bianca,” he said, sounding strangled. “The decision is yours. Just know that I’m wary of it.”
“She’s learned with surprising speed to use magic to block another witch from transporting her,” Marten said with a wink. “I was surprised she picked it up so readily.”
“Hey!”
Darkness fell down on me like cascading water, but I used silent magic to counter it. My vision went dark. The magic reached a crescendo, but I fought back. The swimming darkness faded. I faced Papa with a smirk.
“Marten is constantly testing me,” I said self-righteously.
Papa laughed. “Good,” he said, pushing his hand against my face. “See that you don’t get into trouble, and check in with Stella when you get back.”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Love you, B.”
“I love you, too.”
Fire!
My slamming heart spurred me through northern Letum Wood that evening. Hoping to find new, more-challenging runs, I’d started transporting farther away from Chatham Castle and discovering new trails. Tonight, I sprinted through a section of the forest near the Northern Covens, speeding past bracken and through curtains of ivy. My bare feet hurdled over boulders and skimmed past dark pools of moss. The Volare banged against my back, and Viveet bounced on my right hip with every step. A wild feeling of panic pushed me, even though my lungs burned with a desperate need for air.
Run, the magic of the forest whispered. Fire!
“I’m … running …” I muttered.
A heavy blanket of humidity lay over Letum Wood, making it difficult to draw breath. The sun cast long, dark shadows on the ground. Hair clung to my neck and forehead, and sweat dripped from my elbows and face. The dim light left shadows on the ground below the dense canopy. I sprinted on faith, following bushes that bent back and tree limbs that moved out of the way, guided by the magic of the forest. When Letum Wood commanded, I obeyed.
Fire! cried the magic. Run!
I spilled out of the forest and skidded to a stop in an open meadow filled with haze. An old house sat in the middle of the field, barely visible through the fog. Fire climbed up the wood, radiating heat so strong I felt it on the backs of my hands. The flames moved quickly, speeding across the front of the house with an orange glow. Pounding drums in the distance matched my racing heart.
Drums. I knew those drums.
“West Guards?” I panted, ducking behind a nearby tree. “In the Northern Covens?”
The shrill screams of children rang out over the tops of the waving grasses. Young faces flashed in the windows of the orphanage. Two West Guards guarded the front door, and one stood at the back. My eyes narrowed. Who would they be guarding so far north? The face of a child appeared in the attic window, her eyes wide and terrified, before disappearing again.
Children. Northern Covens. Fire. West Guards. Niko’s voice rang through my mind.
“Forty innocent witches died, ten of whom were children in an orphanage fire.”
Why weren’t the West Guards using black fire? Doesn’t matter, I thought, glancing back. Fire is fire.
There would be no dead children on my watch. I ducked low, closed my eyes, and repeated a transportation spell. A heady darkness pressed on my face for less than a second before it disappeared, leaving me crouched on a stair landing inside the orphanage. Pandemonium reigned. Hysterical young girls clung to the dresses of older children. Two teenage boys attempted to guide smaller kids to the back of the house, where the smoke was thinnest. Miss Scarlett stood at the bottom of the stairs, barking commands.
“Miss Scarlett!” I called, running down the stairs. “Miss Scarlett! How can I help?”
Her head snapped up. “Bianca!” she cried, her eyes widening. She grabbed my arms, shaking me. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to help!”
“No! You must go.”
“Miss Scarlett—”
“Run, Bianca!”
Her terror frightened me. “What’s happening?” I asked. “What’s going on?”
“Go!” she said, shoving me toward the door. “Transport to your father’s presence immediately!”
An onslaught of darkness overtook the room, forcing me to the ground and ripping me away from Miss Scarlett’s firm grip. My head hit the floor with a crack. The scream of a little girl pulled me back from a confused, swimming fog. A familiar face, like one peering out of the murky depths of a long-forgotten dream, appeared in the darkness. My stomach clenched.
“Ah, Bianca darling. So lovely of you to join us. You were almost too late.”
My spine stiffened at the drawling, sultry voice. The smell of flowers overwhelmed me, so strong and sweet it stank. My upper lip curled over my teeth.
“Mabel,” I hissed.
The darkness hiding her ebbed away, revealing a goddess of a witch, almost maniacal in her dark glory. She wore a black dress with a plunging neckline and short sleeves. Tongues of black flame undulated around her legs in smoky waves, highlighting the blonde hair cascading in ringlets past her shoulders. Perfection. Mabel was cherry-lipped, blue-eyed, cynical, stunning perfection.
This isn’t going to be good, I thought.
“Mabel?” she repeated with an amused lift in her voice. “Since when do you not address me with the formal respect I deserve? I punish students who don’t address me as Miss Mabel.”
“I’m not your student anymore.”
“A shame, isn’t it? We could have been so great together.”
Her cool smile sent panic through me. Mabel always had a plan, and something told me that I was part of her plan now. No doubt she’d schemed this dark idea herself, ambushing me at an orphanage. Miss Scarlett tried to move toward me, but Mabel sent her flying into the wall.
The orphans continued to scream in the background as the heat of the flames radiated through the walls. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a girl’s lips moving as she attempted to open the windows with magic, but they didn’t budge. She slammed her palms into the panes, but it was no use. Even the Orphanage Mother pounded on the back door, but it wouldn’t give way. Mabel must be suppressing their magic somehow.
“It’s been too long, hasn’t it?” Mabel asked, inspecting her nails.
I snarled. “Not long enough. What do you want?”
Her predatory gaze glowed as red as simmering coals. Mabel had many demons. Just seeing her again made me relive them, remembering the hellish time I’d spent locked in her mind, sharing her pain and madness.
“Isn’t it obvious what I want?” Mabel asked, glancing around. “I want to finish the job I meant to do six weeks ago when Mother dearest died.”
“Attacking an orphanage of innocent children?”
“No, you silly fool. Kidnapping you. They are simply the means to the end.”
She took a step forward, but I unsheathed Viveet. Her bright blue flames danced high, casting a circle of light on the floor. Mabel stopped and lifted an eyebrow.
“We’ve done this before, Bianca,” she said. “Do you remember? It wasn’t too long ago that you and I fought.”
“And you lost.”
Her eyes tapered. “Naturally, I let you win to gain my own advantage. I was hoping that Mother dearest would kill your father while I was hiding in the dungeon, but of course she failed. She wasn’t as strong as I am, you see.”
A wooden beam fell from the kitchen ceiling in a spray of cinders. Miss Scarlett staggered off the floor, a trickle of blood rolling down her cheek. She put herself between Mabel and the children.
“I’m willing to make a deal,” Mabel said, extending her right arm. A silver manacle dangled from her index finger. The edge of her sleeve slipped back, revealing her circlus, a round tattoo on her wrist. I had one just like it, a symbol of education.
“What deal?” I asked.
“You,” she said, twirling her finger in a circle, “for all of them. Come with me willingly, and I’ll spare their lives.”
“Why don’t you just take me?”
Mabel laughed. “Because I know you can block my transportation spell. I’m way ahead of you, Bianca darling. I’ve been watching you, you know.”
I swore under my breath. Mabel knew I’d never allow so many innocent children to die for me, just as she must have known I’d be running throu
gh this section of the forest. Her ability to play on my weaknesses worked to her advantage yet again. I frantically tried to form a plan. Mabel would repel any curse I tried to use. Papa wasn’t here. For all I knew, the Protectors were infiltrating Letum Wood to prepare for an imminent counter attack, but I couldn’t bet on it. If I went with Mabel, she’d hold the biggest pawn in this game of war: me. Papa would be livid and might act rashly, which wouldn’t end well for the Central Network. No matter what I chose, something bad would happen.
“You have to prove that you’ll let every witch here live,” I said. The ravenous fire ceased, leaving my ears ringing.
“Of course I will, see?” She held her arms out. “But only if you come willingly.”
The flames roared to life, stronger than before.
“You don’t have much longer to hesitate,” Mabel called over the raging inferno. “Do you want to die with all these beautiful, forgotten children?”
A portion of the roof fell, crashing into the top floor. Miss Scarlett skittered backward, her arms outspread to protect the children from the flying cinders. The entire building would fall in on itself within minutes.
The sanctimonious victory in Mabel’s smile turned my stomach. “Now or never!” she cried. “Which do you choose, Bianca?”
“Bianca!” Miss Scarlett yelled, “Transport away immediately!”
I held out my arm to Mabel. “You have me. Now stop the fire.”
The inferno ceased the moment the manacle slid onto my wrist. My skin turned cold where it touched me, and the chill crawled up my arm like a wave of ice. Viveet fell from my hands, landing on the floor, inert. Miss Scarlett’s mouth opened in horror.
My own sense of heavy dread pressed upon me when Mabel giggled.
“Tell Papa not to do anything thoughtless,” I said to Miss Scarlett, dropping the Volare’s oblong case on top of Viveet. “And please take my things back to Chatham Castle.”
Before Miss Scarlett could respond, Mabel grabbed my arm above my elbow. The darkness of transportation pressed in on me, taking me far from my home and everyone I loved.