by Pat Esden
I glanced at the clock on my bedside stand. Grandfather and Dad’s idea about a nap wasn’t bad. I had time.
Chase drifted into my mind and excitement fluttered in my chest. I’d promised to forsake him when we went to the realm. But I hadn’t said anything about before. It was a seriously bad idea to do something that might get his adrenaline or hormones flowing, but it couldn’t hurt to reassure him that we were coming soon.
I slid the window screen up, then stripped down to my shirt and panties, and crawled into bed. The crisp cotton sheets were cool against my skin. I closed my eyes, concentrating on Chase. I scrunched a pillow against my chest, imagining each detail, his smell, the taste of his skin, enough to let him feel my need. Not enough to turn him on, at least not very much.
My breathing slowed. I could feel each muscle relaxing. Legs. Arms. Neck. Relaxing. Drifting. Nothing except him in my mind as I sank into a dream.
* * *
We stand in a garden, mist and the scent of rosemary swirling around us. His hand cups my chin, lifting my face. His eyes are sad, and shrouded by my sleep state and the haze.
“Annie,” he says, hushed as the breeze.
I press my fingers against his jawline, rough and dark with stubble. And my body awakens, pulse quickening, desire threading through me. I want him. He takes a shallow breath and I know he feels the same. But this won’t work. It’s wrong. Not why I called him. It’s dangerous for him.
Words form in my heart. I need to explain. To tell him we’re coming. To say I’d never forsake him, for real. I step back and cold air settles between us.
Suddenly the ground beneath my feet shudders and bursts upward, tossing me aside. A fissure cracks open. Steam hisses out, cutting the mist and separating him from me.
Chase is a long ways off now. He’s on the horizon silhouetted by a bonfire. Lotli’s there, too, playing her flute. Her music is fluid like moonlight, like a waterfall, a distant caterwaul raking chills up my spine. He moves with her music, the gold flashes of his scimitar brightening and darkening her face, his leather armor as blood red as the night sky.
The rhythm of a pendulum begins to mark the seconds, echoing in my head. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
Lotli glides toward me, until she’s right on the other side of the steaming fissure. Her eyes are on mine, as black as death. Her fingernails count off the loops of blue and green yarn wrapped around her flute. Tick-tock. One. Tick-tock. Two. Tick-tock. Three . . . She reaches six, touching a loop of my hair instead of yarn—
And the pendulum explodes like a grenade. White light blazes out from it. Orange flashes. Red flashes. Shards of eggshell knife outward, flying at me, as sharp as glass spears or razorblades.
* * *
I woke with a start. The sheets soaked with sweat, the nightmare hot and vivid in my mind. But I also felt clearheaded. More so than I’d been in ages.
Climbing out of bed, I went to my desk and got a pen. Then I began carefully drawing on my palm. First a large rectangle, then a smaller horseshoe shape to the right of it, a row of dots, a winding line that reached up the inside of my wrist.
I’d never bragged to Lotli about having abilities. That was because I didn’t have any. But she hadn’t known what I had or didn’t have when she gave me the egg. However, she did see the energy blast when the egg exploded and I’d seen the shock on her face. The force of the explosion had surprised her. Sure, I hadn’t done anything to stop her from opening the hellmouth, or when she’d taken my hairs and wrapped them around her flute next to Chase’s yarn. But the glorious truth was: She didn’t know what I might be capable of—any more than I could be certain of her level of abilities.
I went to my dresser and slid on my fingerless mitts, tugging them up until the drawing on my hand was mostly covered. Better for Lotli to just catch a glimpse and wonder what the mysterious lines were for than having her see their entirety and fully grasp their much more mundane purpose. Like Selena said, the quiet ones were the ones to watch out for. Hopefully Lotli believed that, too.
CHAPTER 17
I am not Ophelia. And neither madness nor love shall take me there. I am determination. I am as a morning star, baptized in the dark waters of night, I rise again, wielding the strength of my own skin.
—Journal of Stephanie Freemont, 31 October 1795
Dad gave me a kiss on the cheek. “I’m proud of you, kiddo,” he whispered.
“Back at you,” I said.
It was a few minutes before sunset and we were waiting in the dimly lit alcove by the widow’s walk staircase. Everyone was there to see us off—even Houdini, wriggling to get free from Zachary’s grip. The last thing we needed was to have him follow us into the realm.
I slid my fingers down the dagger hanging at my loosely belted waistline and then reached into my robe’s secret pockets, checking that I had my bags of salt and mini flashlight. This was so different than the last time when Lotli, Chase, and I had snuck into the realm behind the older generation’s backs. It was different, too, with all of us dressed in brown eunuch robes, our faces already sheltered by deep hoods. The flute in Lotli’s hand was a reminder of her power and the spell that bound me to keep my promise. But seeing her in the plain robe with charcoal striping her face bothered me far less than the belly dancer costume she’d worn on our previous trip.
I touched my throat, pausing when I reached the egg pendant mixed in with a conglomeration of other necklaces and chains. Genies loved their jewelry, so I’d figured a whole bunch tucked into my robe would draw attention away from the egg and look more normal than just one or two. Of course, the poison ring was totally invisible, hidden away in my bra.
Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Lotli stealing a look at the pendant. Her gaze darted to my wrist, where a couple of my penned lines were barely noticeable. I narrowed my eyes and gave her a sly smile just to let her know she’d been caught, then pulled my hood closer around my face.
A searing pain knifed through my guts, sharp and unrelenting as if someone were raking my intestines with red-hot claws. I hunched forward as one excruciating contraction surged into the next. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to straighten up.
I sliced a look at Lotli. With a sly smile that mimicked the one I’d given her a second ago, she plucked at her flute, one fingernail jabbing at the section wrapped with my hair.
Another wave of pain knifed inside me, stopping as she lifted her finger. She might have sworn an oath to Zea that made it impossible for her to not do as he commanded, but clearly that didn’t prevent her from torturing me. Still, I wasn’t done yet. It was time to take my pretense at having abilities a bit further, and get more reassurance while I was at it.
Keeping my face expressionless, I casually drew my dagger and held it out toward Lotli, handle first. “Before we leave, there is one thing we neglected to do last time. You forgot to swear a blood oath to not desert us in the realm.”
Her eyes went dark. “We could not have left the realm last time without you or Chase, if you had not tricked us into doing so.”
I stepped even closer to her, all but forcing the dagger into her grip. “Cut yourself. Swear a blood oath on your flute.”
“This is unnecessary,” she said. But she took the dagger and pricked the end of her thumb. A drop of blood rose. She smeared it the length of her flute, gaze hard on mine. “We swear on our grandmother and great-grandmother’s souls that we will not break our sacred vow to you and your family—as long as all promises to us remain unbroken.”
I did not take my gaze off hers. Her straight shoulders, solid voice and flared nostrils, every inch of her said she was irritated but had sworn with full honesty and believed the oath had power over her. I bit back a smile, though in truth it had been created out of nothing more than momentary inspiration on my part.
Grandfather cleared his throat. “That was a nice touch,” he said. “However, it’s time. Who wants to go first?”
Plastering on a smile, Lotli turned away
from me. “We are ready.” She lowered her head so he could pour the Methuselah oil over it.
He tipped the lamp. The oil shimmered against the dull brown of her hood. She raised her arms and the oil swept upward, coating her arms, hands, and each fingertip. There was no smell or blackness, or oily excesses puddling on the floor. No sound. Not even the breath of everyone watching. Even Houdini watched in silence as she transformed from solid into a ghostly gray shadow.
My insides quivered with a mix of nerves and excitement. I stepped toward Grandfather and bowed my head, waiting for the writhing sensation of the oil to coat me, and prayed: “Hecate, Queen of the Sky, Protector of the Gateways of earth, heaven, and sea. Watch over us, protect us on this journey. And bring us all home again.”
CHAPTER 18
According to legend, the Lamp of Methuselah contains oil that will turn a human body ethereal, allowing one to pass through unwarded weak points in the veil. Once on the other side, the body will again become solid. We’ll know if this is true come sunset, when Kate and I attempt to cross.
—Journal of David Freemont, March 9th
I held my breath as the oil coated me. Shivers followed in its wake, icing my skin until I trembled. A second later, that sensation faded and only an almost undetectable resistance to my skin remained, like my body had been sealed in an ultrathin coat of varnish.
Our plan was simple. Find my mother first, most likely in the harem. She’d be able to take us to Chase. Then we’d all escape back to Moonhill.
I opened my eyes and slanted a quick look at Lotli’s shadowy form. Once we got back, I’d scream at the top of my lungs about the deal she’d forced me to make. But for now we were a team.
A vibrating sensation crept over my body and I closed my eyes again, waiting for tingles that would signal I was becoming as ethereal as Lotli. I was beyond ready for this. Still, after all the waiting, time seemed to be flying by now, the chance to back out a fading memory.
“I’ll go first.” Dad stepped between me and the space in front of the tapestry. His body shimmered, shedding the last of its solidness as he became ethereal. “Ready, girls?”
Dread and an odd sense of inevitability settled in the pit of my stomach. It felt as if I’d been moving toward this moment my entire life. I took a shaky breath. “I’m ready.”
“Ready,” Lotli echoed, only inches behind me.
Time hung in the air, the moment as frozen as a photograph. Selena had her hands cupped together, fear written in her eyes. Uncle David stood behind Olya, holding her tight. Houdini watched me from Zachary’s arms. The Professor had his phone raised above his head, recording the event. Kate lifted her chin and gave me an approving nod.
“We’ll wait right here until you return,” Grandfather said.
The first notes Lotli played whistled gently, like a shepherdess soothing her flock, rising and falling. My throat dried as I waited. The soft notes became insistent, fiercer, harder, shriller. The air trembled with the eerie sound. Pressure built in my ears and I retreated farther into my hood. There was no ward on this side to block us, just whatever spells Malphic had in place on the other side.
Cold exploded outward, rushing toward us. The flute’s music whistled higher. Houdini yowled, but his cries faded under the ringing pressure singing in my ears. Ahead, between us and the tapestry, the air unzipped, like a tent flap ripping open with sparks of electricity crackling all around it. Beyond the opening, gray mist swirled and eerie orange light whickered.
Dad stepped forward. The flute music lowered a staccato march, suddenly shrieking upward again, a piercing wail. The sound vibrated inside me, even the marrow in my bones shook.
This was it. I swallowed hard, and followed Dad.
Electricity sizzled all around me. The air became stifling, oppressive and hot. It pressed against us, an unyielding tide fighting to shove us back. Dad lowered his head like a bull and pressed on. Pressure squealed in my head, almost too much to bear. But I stuck close to Dad. One step. Another step. Lotli’s music reverberated behind me—
My ears popped. The resistance vanished and my muscles once again took on solid weight as I lurched into a small chamber, its curved walls brightened by flickering torchlight.
Dad’s hand steered me to one side, preventing me from stumbling over a low stand with an unlit hookah resting on top of it. Next to it sat a pile of embroidered floor cushions. Adrenaline thumped into my blood. This was great. There wouldn’t be a sitting area like this arranged directly in front of a weak point if it was actively being used.
I swiveled, guiding Lotli into the room like Dad had done for me—
A masculine snarl reverberated behind us.
I swung around. A man-shaped black shadow leapt out from nowhere, the dark blade of his scimitar glinting. A shadow-genie!
My head whirled, my heartbeat crashing in my ears.
Dad sprung forward. The scimitar slashed toward him. Dad ducked and came up, his fisted hand slamming into the shadow-genie’s stomach. The lung-searing stench of bleach flooded the room. The shadow howled and stumbled backward. Dad rammed his fist into its rib cage. That’s when I noticed a short white rod in Dad’s hand. He yanked the rod upward and the shadow writhed, crumpling to the floor, shrieking and wheezing as oily black liquid boiled from the frothing wound.
Fear jolted through me. Someone had to have heard the shadow’s screams. We had to get out of here. I swung around, studying the entire room. No windows. No doors. Silk draped the ceiling. Carpets covered the curved walls. Carpets. But where did they lead?
“The shadow!” Lotli screeched.
It was on all fours, staggering to his feet. His jaw hung open. Black goo oozed from a gaping hole in its chest. Dad hauled his arm back, slamming the rod into the shadow’s eye. But whatever he was using for a weapon disintegrated on impact, crumbling into melting sludge.
The shadow stumbled toward Dad, teeth bared. I pulled a bag of salt from my pocket, my fingers fumbling with the zip-lock as I yanked it open. Grabbing a handful of salt, I threw it at the shadow’s face. Crystals rained down, hissing like acid against the shadow’s body. Shrieking wildly, it spun like a cyclone. Then it splattered down on top of a floor cushion in an oily black mass, dead-still, for now.
“Hurry,” Dad commanded. “Lotli, open the veil. Annie, help me shove him through.”
Flute music filled the room, an erratic whistle. The barely closed veil crackled open. I grabbed one side of the floor cushion. Dad took the other. My neck muscles pinched from the effort as we heaved it back, then shoved it forward, shooting the cushion and shadow through the slit in the veil, like mafia henchmen heaving a body in the East River.
Dad chuckled. “Bet that will surprise your aunt Kate.”
I stared at him incredulously. How could he laugh? “Yeah, and in about two seconds this place will be full of other guards.”
He raised a finger and cocked his head as if listening. “Do you hear anything? Anything at all—such as sounds from outside of here?”
Lotli blinked. “We hear nothing.”
I smiled. “It’s soundproof, like Malphic’s harem. Noise barely travels inside and can’t escape or get into here.” My fears returned. “That doesn’t mean other guards won’t show up. That one probably has a partner.”
Lotli stepped toward the center of the room. “This is not a safe place. Malphic works magic here.” She scuffed a sheepskin rug aside with her foot, uncovering symbols chiseled into the stones and stained with dark-red splatter.
I shuddered. Blood? Brain matter? I really didn’t want to think what the stains were from, but I couldn’t help it. They weren’t the only creepy things either. On a stone table, a jar filled with yellow liquid and bird embryos sat next to a bowl of half-burnt charcoal, and an uncoiled scroll. A brass face mask with thumbscrews on the sides and spikes around the eye sockets waited on a side table. Shelves and crannies overflowed with books bound in leather, some clasped with jewels, others with glowing seals. A carpet h
anging on the wall behind the stone table depicted a warrior standing on a clifftop. Blood covered his torso. His lower half was a dark tornado of shadows and symbols. In one hand he held a raised scimitar, lightning rose from his other. At his waist, a knife with a moonstone glistened. A knife whose handle held the branding iron, the one that had marked Chase’s collarbone. A knife like the one Chase had taken from Malphic five years ago when he escaped the realm with David and Kate’s help. No question about it, this room was Malphic’s inner sanctum.
Dad strode to the wall, resting his hand on the nearest carpet. “Like it or not, there’s only one way out of here. But who the hell knows which one? What do you think, Lotli?”
She tucked her hands into the folds of her robe. “We cannot say. This magic is not within our understanding.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this one,” I said confidently. I stripped off my mitt and tucked it into my strap-like belt, then took off the egg necklace. The only way to keep a leg up on Lotli was to not let any hint of insecurity leak through.
“Annie—?” Dad started.
I cut him off, hoping he’d manage to cover his confusion and give me a chance. “Don’t worry. The magic in here won’t affect me.”
Holding the end of the chain, I let the egg dangle just above the drawing on my palm, boxes and lines representing the layout of the fortress. I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Please, please, let this work.
Nothing happened, except for desperation and fear blooming inside me. Any second, Lotli would start laughing for sure.
I set my jaw and focused again, blocking out all other thoughts. A tingling sensation sparked in my chest, branched outward, sweeping toward my arm, and down to where my fingers and thumb held the chain.
“Show me where we are,” I said.
The egg swung slowly until it hung directly above the far side of the horseshoe-shaped arena. It began to circle right where my drawing ended. Shit. We were in the part of the fortress I hadn’t seen last time.