by Nicole Maggi
“Really? But she’s always kissing up to your dad.”
“She probably wanted to cover all her bases,” Bree said. “If the plant went through, the Guild would see her as an ally. But if it didn’t, she could say she was against it the whole time.”
“But they found out about the letter anyway,” I pointed out. “Are they watching her too?”
Bree read down the page. “No. It says, ‘the Rabbit paid a visit on December 12. No trouble since then.’” She looked up. “Who’s the Rabbit?”
“I think that’s their mage,” I said. Heath jerked his head up and snatched the file from Bree. “I think he’s the one who killed Sam Foster.”
“The Rabbit.” Heath ran a hand through his hair, his shaggy blond locks sticking out every which way. “But who is he?”
“Whoever he is, that’s a really stupid code name,” Bree said. “Rabbit, as in ‘pulling a rabbit out of your hat’? It took a real genius to come up with that one.”
Heath snorted and bent back over the handful of files in his lap. My fingers itched to reach for the Jonah files, but I couldn’t quite make myself do it yet, so I reached for another Dissenters folder. I flipped it open. My blood ran cold.
Across the top of the one piece of paper in the folder read the name Jacobs, Tom.
It was my dad. My dad had a folder at the Guild.
The black print swam on the page. There was hardly any information there, just his name and address and the following two lines:
December 27, 2013: Mr. Jacobs seen at the Waterfall.
Current status: Deceased.
I touched that last word as though somehow it could connect me to my dad through the ether of heaven and earth. Why was there a file on him? Was it simply that he was seen at the Waterfall and deemed suspicious? Or was it something deeper? The question that was always inside me rose to the surface again. Did my dad know about the Benandanti?
But the only two people I could really ask were Nerina, who had made it clear she wasn’t answering the last time it had come up, and Lidia. And I definitely couldn’t ask her.
I slid the file off to the side, beneath the pillows that surrounded me. Someday, someday, I would have the truth. But whatever it was couldn’t help me now.
“Find anything good?” Bree asked without looking up from the paper she was reading.
“Nothing relevant.” It wasn’t a lie. I watched her and Heath for a moment, until I was sure they were completely absorbed in what they were reading. Then I finally reached for one of Jonah’s files. I couldn’t wait any more. I had to know what the Guild was saying about him. If he was on probation, as he’d told me, there might be something in these files that could protect him.
My fingers clenched the thick green folder. Why was I trying to protect my enemy? I shouldn’t care that he was on probation. I shouldn’t care if they were angry at him for not killing me. I should leave him to their mercy. After all, he had put himself in this situation.
I opened the file and splayed my hand flat against the paper.
I couldn’t feel that way, even if he hadn’t told me he wasn’t sorry. Even if he hadn’t had that look in his eyes, that look of missing me, of wanting me. I’d realized a while ago that I couldn’t hate Jonah. I might not be allowed to love him, but I couldn’t hate him.
The first folder contained nothing I didn’t know. Age, birthplace, Social Security number, passport information, previous addresses. The second folder had details about some of the other places they’d lived. I noticed the information stopped at the place they’d lived before Fairfield, Connecticut—where they’d moved to Twin Willows from. I glanced at Bree, but she was entranced by whatever she was reading. I slid the third folder into my lap and opened it. Sure enough, the header at the top of the first page read Fairfield.
My throat dry, I carefully read each page. It contained a story I’d heard before, but it was fascinating to read it from the Guild’s point of view.
Female twin approached and Called. Refused the Call. Extremely disagreeable and unsociable. Not likely to divulge existence of Malandanti to anyone.
Risk factor: Low.
I snorted quietly. As clever as the Guild seemed to be, they’d really missed the mark on Bree.
Assessment of male twin: unmotivated, unfocused, cavalier. Possible drinking problem. Probably easily manipulated.
My heart started to beat faster, harder. There was a time-stamp on the page: September 15. That was a little over a month before the Wolfes came to Twin Willows. I turned the page.
Subject will be at a high school party on September 20. Will likely drink heavily.
It is believed that guilt will be the best possible motivator.
And then below that:
Vehicle brakes tampered with. If unsuccessful, we will involve the Rabbit.
I closed my eyes. In my mind, I could see Jonah’s face when I had suggested to him that the Malandanti had caused the accident that had caused his ex-girlfriend Emily to lose both her legs. White-hot anger and absolute denial etched deep in his features. I had never mentioned it again, despite my deep suspicion. Now I had proof.
I shuffled through the rest of the papers in the file. It was all documentation of the accident’s aftermath, the steps they had taken to keep Jonah out of jail, the bribes they had given the Fairfield police and the press, a detailed record of all payments made to Emily’s family. And the magic the Rabbit had performed to make everyone agreeable.
“It’s nearly six,” Heath said. I started; I had almost forgotten their presence beside me. Bree began to neaten up the papers that covered her lap and the floor around her. I slid the Jonah file away from me and all the way under the sofa, which I was leaning against. I would come back later to retrieve it and my dad’s file and keep them in my room. All I knew was Bree wasn’t ready to see Jonah’s file. She would fly off the handle and storm to Jonah, wave the papers under his nose, and rant. We couldn’t afford that. Jonah couldn’t know we’d broken into the Guild. I had to find some other way to tell him what the Malandanti had done, how they had manipulated him.
As we walked up the stairs to the outside world, I noticed that Heath was carrying three of the leather-bound manuscripts. “What are you hoping to find in those?”
“I don’t know. Maybe something we didn’t know about the magic at each site. Something that can help us regain the ones we don’t control. And I want to call Nerina and find out if she knew about these books.”
“Don’t do that,” Bree said.
Heath raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”
We emerged into the early-morning chill, the forest blue and grey all around us. Bree scratched her face as she looked at Heath. “Um, she kinda told me to wait until she got back to break into the Guild.”
Heath threw his hand up. “That’s great, Bree. Now I have two teenagers who can’t follow directions.” He sighed heavily. “Fine. But you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do when she gets back.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket. “Hopefully she can tell me when that will be.” He parted ways with us when we reached the fence.
Bree and I headed over the hill toward the house. “I don’t know how I’m going to climb back in my bathroom window without my mother seeing,” she said.
I raised an eyebrow.
“It’s the only way to sneak in and out of my house. But I figured I’d be coming back at night so it would be no big deal.”
“So don’t go home.” I bit my lip, but it was too late to take the suggestion back. “Just tell them you spent the night at my house. We’ll tell my mom you showed up late last night to work on that project.”
Bree kicked at the ground. “I don’t have a change of clothes.”
“You can borrow something of mine.”
“I don’t know.” She curled her lip. “Someone might actually think we were friends if I did that.”
“Heaven forbid.” I bumped her side. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you tell everyone I snore.”
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When Jenny saw me walking up the road with Bree, she dropped her bag to the ground and stared. I knew Jenny wouldn’t buy the line I had sold my mother—about Bree and me working on a school project together—so I scrambled to think of something else to say. Luckily, Bree beat me to it.
“Your friend is pretty pathetic,” she told Jenny. “She called me up last night and lured me over to her house with promises of baked goods and then grilled me for hours about my brother. I wound up having to spend the night.”
Maybe it wasn’t so lucky that Bree had spoken first.
“Lessi, you have got to get over him.” Jenny slung an arm around me and squeezed my shoulder. “He is so not worth it.” She tossed a glance to Bree. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Bree said cheerily. “See you in government, Alessia!” And she walked on ahead of us, her gait so bouncy she was almost skipping.
Jenny dropped her arm off my shoulder. “Seriously, Alessia? Now you’re hanging out with Bree Wolfe? I just don’t know what to think anymore. It’s like you’re a different person.”
I am! I wanted to shout. I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted her to be the understanding, supportive friend she had always been. And suddenly I was angry—so angry—that I couldn’t tell her. It wasn’t fair. The one part of my life that I so desperately needed, I was expected to sacrifice. “You know what, Jenny? Maybe I am a different person. Maybe you just don’t know me at all.”
She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “You’re getting mad at me?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I am. You have no idea what I’m going through.”
“Then tell me!” She threw her hands up. “Tell me what you’re going through. Let me help.”
“You can’t.” My breath came in fast, shallow gasps. I had to stop soon or I would start crying, and I really didn’t want to do that. Not here, in the middle of Main Street. “You can’t help. Sometimes there are just some things you can’t fix, okay? Sometimes you just need to be a friend no matter what.”
“I am—”
“No, you’re not.” Pinpricks started at the backs of my eyes. “You’re planning trips to Massachusetts without me. You’ve got this whole other life going on, and you’re shutting me out.”
Jenny’s own eyes were bright, and two little spots of red appeared on her cheeks. “You shut me out way before I did. I was pounding on that door, and you just wouldn’t answer.”
We stared at each other for a long moment.
She hung her head. When she raised it again, I thought she was going to apologize. But instead, she picked up her bag, turned on her heel, and walked the rest of the way to school without me.
“I wanted to answer,” I whispered. I watched her back retreat farther and farther away. “But I must not speak of the Benandanti.”
Chapter Eighteen
The Discovery
Alessia
Jenny didn’t speak to me all morning. When I walked into second-period French class, she and Carly sat together, whispering furiously. They didn’t even look up when I sat down, and I distinctly heard my name twice.
I folded my arms and sank way down in my chair. I hoped against hope that Jonah would skip, but just before the bell rang, he skulked into the classroom and took his seat behind me.
Now that he was there, I found myself waiting for a note to land on my desk. After fifteen minutes, I wanted that note so bad my stomach hurt. But no note appeared. I risked a glance over my shoulder. Jonah was focused on his French book, reading the chapter Madame Dubois had assigned. I stared at him. Really? Really? All of a sudden he was a model student?
I guess it was Ignore Alessia Day. I dropped my head into my hands and rubbed my temples. My insides felt all twisted and tangled, everything out of place. I couldn’t sit in this room surrounded by people who were mad at me. I dumped all my books into my bag and marched up to Madame Dubois. “I need to go to the nurse,” I told her in French. I figured if I spoke in French, she’d let me go easier.
Without protest, she handed me a hall pass. “Feel better, dear.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in the nurse’s office. I rarely got sick, and when I did, I opted for a tough-it-out approach. The nurse took my temperature (slightly elevated) and asked me when I last had my period (ew). She made the required phone call to Lidia, who I knew was out all day at one of the farms where we’d boarded our goats. In a bigger school, I might have been made to stay there until Lidia could pick me up herself. But in Twin Willows, where everyone knew everyone, the nurse wrote me an excuse and sent me home by myself.
Small-town life had its advantages.
When I got home, I dumped my bag on the couch in the living room, went to the kitchen, and made myself some coffee. While it was brewing, I texted Heath.
Meet me at Nerina’s.
What are you doing out of school? was his immediate reply.
Tell you when I see you. Want some coffee?
Yes and FOOD. Starving.
It made me smile, a hard feat considering my mood. I filled an old lunch bag with apples, cheese, biscotti, half a loaf of bread, and some jam. I pressed the plunger down on the French press and divided the coffee between two travel mugs.
Heath was already in the lair when I got there, one of the leather-bound books open in his lap. I handed him his coffee and settled down on the floor next to him. “How’d you get out of school?” he asked after taking a sip from his mug.
“Told them I was sick.” I pulled one of the other manuscripts over to me.
“Are you?”
I shook my head. I could feel his eyes on me as I carefully opened the book. The pages were thick and brittle. My eyes itched, and my throat grew hot. I wasn’t going to cry, not for the second time in as many hours. But it couldn’t be stopped. I bent in half, my head meeting my knees.
Heath slid the book off my lap and scooted in close to me. “Alessia,” he said, his voice gentle, “what’s wrong?” I couldn’t answer. The tears came all at once, drenching my face, and my throat was too thick for me to talk. I felt Heath put his arm around me, but he didn’t say anything. He just let me cry for a long time.
“It’s just everything,” I finally said with a hiccup. Then it all came out in a big rush. “Carly and Melissa have forgotten I exist, and now Jenny’s not talking to me, and Jo—Jonah’s over me, and my only friend is Bree Wolfe, which is just ridiculous because she’s not friends with anyone, and I can’t talk to my mom, and she’s gone all the time with Mr. Salter anyway, and . . . and I miss my dad.” I blinked while the last of the tears fell from my eyelashes. My tearstained cheeks felt tight.
“Wow. That’s a lot.”
“Yeah.” I sniffled and wiped my nose with the back of my hand. “I’m a mess.”
“Alessia, every new Benandante is a mess. It’s a really hard adjustment.” He squeezed my shoulder. “And you’ve had to deal with a lot more than most.”
I snorted. “Yeah, I guess most Benandanti don’t have a Malandante for an ex-boyfriend.”
“You just have to take it one day at a time.” His blue eyes were wide and serious.
“Is that what you do?” I asked quietly.
“Yes,” he whispered. He cleared his throat and slid the book I’d been looking at toward me. “And what we have to do today is read through these books.”
I ran my fingers across the embroidered title. The Redwoods. The text inside was an antiquated form of Italian. I had to turn a lot of the words over and over in my internal translator. The words we absolutely couldn’t understand, Heath and I wrote on a piece of paper to give Nerina.
Every book was a detailed account of the magic contained at each site and a history of which side controlled it. The last entry still recorded the Malandanti as being in control of the Redwoods. I took a pen out of my bag and carefully wrote the date, followed by the words, in Italian, Regained by the Benandanti.
“Now we have two,” I murmured.
Heath l
ooked up, and I showed him what I had done. He smiled. “Now we have two,” he agreed. “Baby steps back to seven.”
I knew he was trying to be positive, but it was so agonizing. It felt like such a steep hill to climb, especially when the Malandanti were so organized and so powerful. Where were the Benandanti’s hallowed marble halls? Where was our room sealed off by magic and filled with our detailed, documented history?
I jerked my head up. “Nerina’s home in Friuli—the one that was destroyed. Is that where the Benandanti kept our version of these files?”
Heath closed the book he held—Angel Falls—and rested his hand on top. “We’ve never had these kinds of files.”
I squinted at him. “No records of past Benandanti or anything? Why not?”
Heath looked meaningfully at the papers spread all around us. “So no one would ever be able to steal them.”
My lip curved up. Maybe the Malandanti weren’t so clever after all.
For three days and nights, Heath, Bree and I met after school in the underground lair and worked side by side poring over the books and papers. We kept ourselves plied with coffee from Nerina’s fancy machine, home-cured salami from our basement, and fresh loaves of bread Lidia had baked. We emerged only for meals and to tend the chickens so Lidia didn’t get suspicious.
We had worked our way down to the last few folders and had taken to reading them simultaneously instead of passing them back and forth to one another. As Bree and I peered over Heath’s shoulders at the paper he held up, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out.
“That thing gets texts?” Bree asked, looking at the antiquated cell phone.
“I keep telling him to get an iPhone,” I said.
“I don’t need an iPhone,” Heath muttered. “I don’t need to check my e-mail every five minutes.”