Magic Cries

by Miriam Greystone

  “What more were we supposed to do?” Molly demanded. “We tried as hard as we could to convince her.”

  “There were three of you, and two of them,” Andrew pointed out, his eyebrows climbing. “And your voice is one of the most powerful we have.”

  Aww shit, Jake thought to himself. Now things are going to get ugly.

  “You wanted me to try to force her?” Molly cried. Her face flushed. “You can’t be serious, Andrew. Who the hell do you think I am? I wouldn’t call Lena fragile, exactly, but it is pretty freaking clear that she’s been through a lot. There’s no way I would even think about using my voice to make her do something she didn’t want to.”

  “Lena is one person,” Andrew replied. “I am trying to keep our entire group alive. She might have information that would make that possible. And you just let her walk away.”

  Molly shook her head in disbelief, raising her hands and leaning away from Andrew, as though she needed as much air between them as possible. “I seriously can’t believe what I’m hearing right now. No wonder Lena fucking hates you if that’s the way you think about things.”

  “I’m doing what I need to do to keep us alive.”

  Molly’s eyebrows bunched together. She leaned in closer to Andrew and lowered her voice.

  “You are being an asshole, Andrew. That’s what you’re doing. I gave you Evie’s USB key to help you find this goblet of yours. But sometimes you make me wonder if I should have just smashed it instead.”

  Andrew’s face flushed, and his nostrils flared. “I think this conversation is over,” he said, his voice cold with suppressed fury.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got nothing more to say to you,” Molly hissed, spinning on her heel and grabbing Jake’s hand as she stormed out the door.

  The iron door clanged shut behind them.

  “I cannot believe that bullshit!” Molly fumed. A few Echoes who were hurrying by, most likely on their way to dinner, turned their heads in her direction, their eyes lighting up with curiosity. Molly bit her lip and turned so that she stood facing away from them. “Did he honestly think I would use my voice on Lena like that?” she asked Jake in an outraged whisper.

  “If he did, then he doesn’t know you very well.” Jake ran a hand up and down Molly’s arm. Just having the shut door between them and Andrew let him breathe a little easier. “Let’s go and get some food. I bet that’ll make you feel better.”

  “I can’t go to the Tavern right now,” Molly grimaced and shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans. “If I do, I’ll just complain to Matt and Thia, and they both think Andrew walks on water.” Her lips curved upward into a mischievous smile. “Let’s go out,” she said with a conspiratorial grin. “Like, really out. Janice and the band are playing the Homeland bar tonight. Let’s go see the show.”

  “I thought Andrew wanted everybody to lay low,” Jake answered slowly. “I thought unnecessary trips out of the Refuge had to wait until Steele isn’t a threat anymore.”

  “And who knows how long that will be?” Molly asked, shaking her head. “We need a break; even if it's just for a few hours. This place is going to make me lose my mind, and you've been cooped up in our room for so long while your back healed. You need to get out and get some fresh air, and so do I. It'll do us both good.”

  “Molly . . .” Jake swallowed. Just the thought of going back out into the world made his palms sweaty with a mixture of panic and desire. Down here, the Refuge wrapped around him like a cocoon, a constant torment and protection. His craving never subsided, but he at least knew that he couldn’t actually get the drugs. On the surface . . . anything could happen. “I just don’t think you should piss Andrew off any more than you already have. He seems pretty on edge, and he isn’t the kind of guy you want angry with you.”

  “But how will he even know?” Molly asked in a stage whisper. She took Jake’s hand in both of hers and backed down the hallway, towing him behind her. Jake dragged his feet. “Come on. It’ll be fun,” she coaxed him. “I managed to get a message to Janice last week. I told her that my cousin died and that I had to go out of town all of a sudden. But now I’m back and, even though I’m still kind of broken up and not feeling up to singing, I might stop by anyway.”

  “It just . . .” Jake pulled them both to a stop, “seems like a risky thing to do.”

  “You've been down here for weeks, Jake,” Molly said, and Jake could see the worry starting to surface in her eyes. “Don’t you want to go out?” Molly stepped closer to him. “What's the matter?”

  He should just tell her, Jake thought. Tell her that his addiction was a parasite, still tunneled deep inside him, tearing at his insides. Poisoning his blood.

  He looked at her.

  Her eyes were so beautiful. Dread swirled like a cyclone in his heart. At any moment those eyes would harden. The warm hand that felt so right in his would pull away. And Jake knew, right down to his core, that the cold of being all alone again would kill him.

  “Nothing's wrong!” Jake cried, tightening his fingers around hers. He stepped closer to her, and brushed her long hair over her shoulder, trailing his fingers along her neck. “It sounds great. Let’s go.”

  Molly looked at him, her eyes searching his face. Jake forced his smile to widen. After a second, Molly seemed satisfied. She turned, and they started walking together toward the elevator.

  Jake let out a long, quiet breath that hissed between his teeth. Molly knew him better than anyone. If she really wanted to break down his walls and see through his fakes smiles, she could. But Jake knew how easy it was to swallow a lie you wanted to believe.

  “And don’t worry. I won't sing. The last time I performed, and my voice got out of control, I almost caused a freaking stampede. I'm not stupid enough to do that again.” Molly glanced over at him, her eyes sparkling with laughter. “It’ll be hard to listen to Janice singing all my songs. But you’ll be there. If I lose it and start to go up on stage and make a grab for the microphone, you’ll just have to tackle me to the ground and drag me off before it's too late.” She laughed at her own joke.

  Jake stopped short. It took Molly half a step before she realized he wasn’t next to her. “What’s the matter, Jake?” She asked, her eyebrows climbing.

  “It's just that . . . you might not want to say stuff like that to me.”

  “What? Why not?” She came and lay a hand against his chest. “I'm just joking around.”

  “Yeah, but . . . if you tell me to do something, I'm gonna to do it. I won’t have a choice.” Jake watched as his words sank in. The easy laughter in Molly’s eyes evaporated. Something that looked an awful lot like fear took its place.

  “Sometimes,” Jake said quietly, “you forget what you can do to me.”

  Molly swallowed. “I think I forget it almost all of the time.” She looked down at her shoes, as though her ability was something to be ashamed of. “Most of the time, I don’t want to remember.”

  “Can you please not forget?” Jake ran a hand across his forehead. “I trust you, Molly. I really, really do. But sometimes, I feel like we’re in a little over our heads with this stuff.”

  “I know,” Molly whispered. She leaned in and wrapped her arms around his neck. He pulled her against him, and for a moment they clung to each other, tight; as though the world was a storm trying to rip them apart.

  “I’ll be more careful,” Molly whispered in his ear. “I promise.”

  And then the moment was over. They stepped apart without meeting each other’s eyes. Jake forced a smile, and they walked briskly toward the exit.

  Riding the metro was torturous.

  Jake hated the noise, the push of unfamiliar people all around him. Twice, bile rose in his throat and he fought it down, feeling sweat bead on his forehead. There was too much life here, too much bustle. Jake felt like the sides of the metro were metal coffin walls, pressing in on him. The darkness of the tunnels and the lights that shot by them through the windows were eerie and alien.
The babble of voices around him made his head swim.

  “Two more stops,” Molly commented, leaning in close so that he could hear her over the noise. Jake had to resist the urge to wrap his arm around her middle, cling to her, and beg her to take him back to the little room they shared. He wasn’t ready to be out here. He wasn’t fit to be in the real world. This had been a terrible mistake.

  “Sounds good,” he answered, and turned to look out the window so she couldn’t see his face. His reflection stared back at him; pale skin and dark eyes. Another version of himself—a phantom Jake who was whole, and worthy of affection.

  When they stepped off the train, Molly casually slipped her hand through his, leading him through the crowd, breaking a path for him through the masses of people. Leading him down the street, and into the crowded bar.

  They found seats in the back just as the music started. Jake could see how much it hurt Molly not to be on stage. Janice sang well, but it was nothing like what Molly could have done, nowhere near the way she could have set that room on fire. Her lips were a thin line as she watched. Sometimes she looked away, as though the sight of what she loved but could no longer have was too much for her to take.

  Jake knew exactly how she felt.

  When the show was over, it was Tim who spotted her through the crowd.

  “Our captain has returned!” he hollered, pushing his way through the crowd with some difficulty and wrapping a thick arm around her neck. “What are you doing hiding out back here? Come! Come with me! Mike and Janice are backstage and we all want to see you!”

  “I can't Tim, not tonight . . .”

  But Tim wasn't listening, just pulling her along as he turned and headed toward the back.

  “Will you be alright?” Molly called, looking back at Jake.

  Jake wanted to shout out to her not to leave him alone. He wanted to wrap his arms around her waist, press his face into her stomach, and beg her not to leave him all alone. But then she would know.

  “I'll be fine!” he shouted, not even sure that she could hear him through the crowd.

  “I'll be back in a bit!” she yelled back, and then she was gone. He put his elbows on the bar, determined not to turn around and look behind him, but that lasted for only a minute or two.

  He was alone now. Nothing stood between him and what he wanted.

  That awareness brought the hunger roaring to the surface of his brain. And so it was with dread, but also with a certain amount of resignation, that Jake turned around and let his eyes run over the room.

  It wasn't hard to find. Like a bloodhound, he was attuned to certain cues that most people couldn't see. He knew how to sniff out what others couldn't.

  He shuddered and sighed. This was always how it was going to be. He wasn't surprised, or even disappointed, really. It was just reality coming back after a brief hiatus. A beautiful, sweet dream, despite the fear and pain that shot through it. A delirious hallucination in which someone beautiful and whole reached out for him, protected him. Believed in him. It had been a wonderful dream . . . but in the end, it was nothing more than that. It didn't even take a minute for him to know where the drugs were, didn't take more than another minute to cross the room to the dark corner where he knew they could be found. It was like a neon sign with a giant flashing arrow, calling him to the place that he needed to go. He knew a couple of the other junkies; they nodded to him as he joined the little, clustered group. The rest were strangers to him, but they all were family in a sense. They all had the same tightness in their jaw, the same need shining in their eye. And they would all turn on each other in an instant; steal, rob, beat each other black and blue if it meant getting more of what they needed. Just like a real family.

  Jake smiled and pulled up a chair. This was comfortable. He was home.

  Evie

  “I can’t believe I agreed to bring you here,” Roman signed, his face bleak, his forehead damp with sweat. His black wings drooped behind him, as though in anticipation of defeat.

  Evie looked away from him. She could feel hairs rising along the back of her neck. Every time she looked over at him, a fresh wave of shock rolled through her.

  She had thought that she knew him. She had thought that her feelings for him were based on something real. But he had been lying to her from the first moment they met. She edged away, putting a little more space between them. If Roman noticed, at least he didn’t say anything.

  She swallowed hard, looking around her. To say that her life had spun suddenly and completely out of control was a laughable understatement. She folded her hands under her arms so that Roman wouldn’t see the way they shook.

  “Where are we?” she asked. It felt so strange to speak out loud to Roman, instead of signing. But his deafness had been an act—just another layer of lies that he had told her. A way for him to avoid using his voice and enthralling any nearby human. She refused to sign to him, now that she knew the truth.

  “I can’t tell you that!” Roman’s hands jumped with agitation as he responded. “The rest of the Sirens are going to want to kill you on sight anyway, simply for invading our home! Knowing its location would only make things worse!”

  Suspicion surged inside her, and Evie forced it down with difficulty. As much as she knew that Roman had brought her here because she insisted on it, it was hard not to fear him. For as long as she could remember, growing up in a Legacy household, she had heard stories of the Watchers. They were the bogeymen who had haunted her dreams; the great, dangerous beasts that all Legacy children knew to fear. People said they feasted on human flesh. They spoke in whispers of the fate, worse than death, that lay in store for any Legacy that was caught disobeying their rules. Even later, when Evie began her feverish research and started to hope that at least some of the stories she had grown up with were not exactly true . . . still. She had imagined their home to be a place of crumbling stone and dark shadow, fetid air and echoing cobweb-filled halls.

  But this was beautiful.

  The ocean stretched out behind them, an endless expanse of turquoise and green, the sun dancing on its surface like a million crystals scattered by a generous hand. The edges of the cave actually stood several feet deep in the water. But it wasn’t like any cave Evie had seen, in life or in pictures. The cave was filled with light—the ceiling of it opened up in a large circle, and even the sides were in large, curved doorways that made her think of a circus tent, made of golden stone. Sunlight poured in and pressed itself against every crevice. Looking up through the opening at the pale blue sky beyond, Evie knew that, at night, the spacious cave would be filled with moonlight. The damp sand under her feet was smooth and perfect, as though no human foot had tread on it in a thousand years. A tingle of fear inched up her spine as she realized that might actually be the case.

  “This entrance is not used often,” Roman explained, seeing her expression. “It is for free-humans to use. No one like that has entered our home in living memory.” He shook his head, his eyes full of dread. “Until today.”

  Evie nodded and swallowed hard, hoping that the fear swirling in her belly wasn’t evident on her face.

  “You know we will both probably die today, right?” Roman asked, stepping closer to her so that when he signed his fingers brushed up against her arm. “You for your trespass, and me, for showing you the way in?”

  Evie swallowed hard and wrapped her arms around her middle. “They’ll listen to us,” she insisted, trying to believe it. “They have to.”

  Roman nodded slowly, then turned and walked toward the back of the cave. Evie followed behind him, watching the way that the tips of his wings left twin tracks in the sand.

  The opening was barely big enough for Roman to fit through, and even without wings, Evie felt her breath hitch as she lowered herself in. She had never thought of herself as claustrophobic, but her throat still tightened with fear as she wiggled, with sand at her back and the stone wall only inches from her face, through a dim, unknown tunnel.

  When
her feet finally came out into open air, she felt Roman’s hands reaching up to help her find her footing as she slid free.

  As soon as her feet touched solid ground, she bounded away from his touch. His fingers pulled back instantly, as though he felt ashamed for daring to touch her.

  “What is this place?” Evie whispered.

  Roman’s lips quirked upward in an ironic smile. “The visitor’s entrance,” he signed.

  They had emerged into a hollowed-out mountain, or a volcano that had long been dormant. Now a secret garden flourished in the hollowed-out depths. Trees grew thickly from the stone wall, their trunks curving gracefully upward, toward the sun. The deep green of their foliage splashed, lush against the slate gray stone. Birdsong echoed faintly from somewhere up above. High above them, the gray circling stone opened into a wide circle that dripped thick, hanging moss. The blue sky peered down at them through the opening, seemingly a hundred miles away.

  A broad, stone-paved path wove up a small hill and led to an open-air pavilion built of bamboo, wood, and stone. She and Roman walked up the path and, with each step, Evie felt herself leaving forever the life that she had known. Painted bright red and gold, the pavilion had no doors, and other than sunlight and brisk, chilling wind, it contained only one thing.

  The gong that hung in the center of the pavilion was as big as Evie was tall. Perfect, unvarnished silver, it was inscribed all over with writing in a language Evie had never seen. A long mallet hung beside it, swinging slightly in the breeze.

  Roman and Evie stood together, in front of the gong. Neither of them moved.

  The shine of its silver was so perfect that Evie could see her own reflection, grim and unsmiling, staring back at her. Five-foot-nothing, her wind-tossed black curls fell, unruly, into her eyes. The freckles, sprinkled liberally across the light-brown skin of her face, spread across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks, making her look young—too young. Almost like a child.