by Nicole Maggi
“For now!” he shouted back. “It will not be long before the Chinese pollute this part of the world, too.”
I watched a herd of yaks graze on the bright green grass in the valley below us and could totally imagine a cluster of stinking, Malandanti-constructed smokestacks billowing filth into the clear air. Well, that was what we were here to stop.
The road narrowed into barely more than a hiking trail and wound its way up into the mountains. The moped tires kicked up clods of dirt and pebbles, and Jintao gunned the engine to get us up the mountainside. As we rounded a steep ridge, a little cluster of gray buildings loomed into view. They were built right into the cliff, almost as if nature, and not man, had put them there. “Is that it?” I yelled over the whine of the moped’s engine.
Jintao nodded. Now we began to descend toward the compound, the backside of the moped swinging back and forth on the steep path. I clung to Jintao and whooped as he floored it for the last few hundred yards and skidded to a stop at the entrance.
Nerina popped off the moped in front of us. Somehow, her hair still looked perfect. I could only imagine what mine looked like. I grabbed my bag and followed Jintao in through the wide wooden doors.
We emerged into a small courtyard with a well in the center of it. Prayer flags of every color crisscrossed the courtyard and danced in the constant wind. The walls surrounding us were carved with images of animals: yaks, snow leopards, and then more fantastical ones like a phoenix, a dragon, and a griffin. Quinglin whistled and people poured out from every doorway leading off the courtyard. Tibetan men, women, and children, their hands filled with flowers and bowls of fruit, chattered in Tibetan as they approached. They were all dressed simply, but they looked happy and well fed. Like somehow these walls had kept the Chinese oppression out.
“These are the families of the Tibetan Clan,” Nerina said to me as we were handed flowers and fruit and embraced like long-lost relatives. “They live here together.”
“So that whole secret-identity thing doesn’t exist here?” I asked, bowing to a smiling woman as she pressed apples into my already loaded hands.
“The rules here have always been a little different,” Nerina admitted, “because this site has never been under our control. Just as Friuli is different.”
A fact I’m sure everyone just forgot to share with the rest of the Clans. Wait until Alessia heard about this.
Three decidedly non-Tibetan people came out into the courtyard from the main entrance. “Ah!” Nerina cried. She shoved her offerings into the arms of the closest person and galloped over to them. I watched her embrace each one. “Bree, come!” she called to me.
Jintao took my gifts, and I walked over to meet the Concilio. A squiggle of nerves shot through me. Sure, they were immortal, but I was the most powerful mage they’d had in centuries. That was worth something too. I raised my chin.
Magdalena, the youngest at two hundred years old, looked like the baby sister of the bunch. She had a round face and a sweet smile, but I could see sharp wit behind her eyes. Cecilia was tall and gray-haired, with a ramrod back and a serious expression. But after she’d kissed both my cheeks, she pulled back and smiled. It lit up her whole face, and I couldn’t help but smile back. Adamo towered over all of us, his broad shoulders and chest the width of a barrel. He looked like the type of older brother who would beat up anyone who messed with his sisters.
All three of them embraced me and kissed me on both cheeks. I hung back as we walked into the closest building, listening to them chatter with each other in rapid-fire Italian. So . . . this was the Concilio. Or half of it, at least.
I barely had time to unpack before Nerina popped her head into my room. “Come on. We’re going in.”
“Right now?” I followed her out of the room and across the courtyard. Dusk had fallen, lengthening pink and gray shadows over the compound. Torches had been lit along the walls, flickering orange light against the darkness. We entered a wide circular room dominated by a giant golden Buddha statue at its center. A bowl at his feet overflowed with fruit and flowers. Silken pillows of all different colors encircled the statue. Nerina squeezed onto a pillow between Magdalena and Cecilia. Five other people—the Tibetan Clan, I assumed—lay on the other pillows. One of them, a middle-aged man with a kind face, sat up and gestured to me. I tiptoed through the crowd of the Clan’s families and went over to him.
“It is nice to see you again, Bree,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “I am Shen.”
I looked from him to the other members of the Clan. “Have we met?”
He laughed. “Yes. But I looked somewhat different.”
“Oh!” I sat down next to him. “You’re the Snow Leopard.” I gestured to the packed room. “So, what’s all this about?”
“Every time the Clan goes into battle, the families come to pray. They will sit here all night, keeping vigil over our bodies, until we return.”
I swept my gaze over the throngs of men, women, and children, all here in service to the Benandanti. This was the way to do it. I didn’t know what the rest of the Clans were fooling around with, but I didn’t think there was anything more comforting than knowing an entire village of people was praying for your safe return while you were out fighting the bad guys.
A low hum of chanting rang around the room, growing as more people joined in. Jintao held up a singing bowl, its bright round tones echoing off the walls in harmony with the chanting. Even though I couldn’t understand the words of the chant, I felt them in my bones, the intent behind them: the prayer for a good fight, a victorious battle, a safe return. As the music reached its climax, my heart swelled. The Benandanti fell back on their lush pillows, and a blaze of sky-colored light filled the room.
When it cleared, I was the only Benandante left. The others had shifted themselves right out of the compound. I rose to join them. As I passed Jintao and Quinglin, they both murmured, “In bocca al lupo.”
I knew I’d need that blessing tonight. We’d done no reconnaissance, no planning; I had no idea what we were going into, and I knew a lot of what happened tonight would rest on me. My heart skipped a beat. And in that space where a heartbeat should’ve been, something else crept in. I gritted my teeth. Fear. That goddamn Rabbit had made me afraid where once I’d been fearless.
Reckless, said a voice inside me. Foolhardy.
I closed my eyes and punched that little voice, hard. Fuck the fear. It wasn’t going to help me. In fact, I’d bet my college fund that the moment they let the fear in was the moment the other mages had met their deaths.
I ran through the courtyard to join the others. When I came through the doors, I slid to a halt. The Benandanti Clan fanned out on the mountainside, all five of them Snow Leopards. I squinted, trying to figure out which one was my Snow Leopard, the one I’d shadow-walked with. They all looked so much alike . . . but their markings . . . yes, their markings were different. The one with the black smudges beneath his eyes—that was Shen. The rest of you are Snow Leopard One, Two, Three, and Four, I told them. Where are the Concilio?
Look up, Shen said. They are coming in from overhead.
I’d gotten used to Nerina in her Griffin form, but the other three mythical beings took my breath away. Adamo, the Phoenix, lit up the sky with his tail of fire. The Pegasus, Cecilia, glowed ethereally against the stars. And Magdalena took the form of an enormous gray She-Wolf. I felt a swell of pride at seeing this vision of sheer magnificence. We were going to win. We had the greatest army on earth.
I followed the Snow Leopards, the cold ground crackling beneath our feet, to the top of the next ridge. The Temple spread out just below us. The swell of pride vanished, replaced with that sick, cold fear.
At least a hundred silver-haloed Malandanti swarmed the site, their forms shifting in and around the compound like locusts. What the hell? I said, moving closer, my eyes fixed on the impossible sight. How can there be so many? This is more than all the Malandanti Clans combined . . .
It is as I feare
d, Nerina said. They are using the magic on ordinary people.
Oh, God. A pit of nausea lodged in my gut. The magic at any of the seven sites was never meant to be used on regular people who didn’t possess the power of the Benandanti and Malandanti inside them. To use it on someone who wasn’t born with the caul, who didn’t have that potential . . . How are they doing this? Why are people falling for it?
They must be recruiting them with empty promises, Nerina said.
Which is not hard, given the suffering of so many people on my side of the world, Shen finished for her. So many of us are desperate for any way to help our families.
And I can only assume that the Malandanti are failing to tell them the consequences, Magdalena said. The feathers in her huge white wings ruffled in the wind. Thousands must be dying in this way.
But wouldn’t that be noticeable to the rest of the world?
And as soon as I thought the words, the wheels in my brain spun into place, connecting all the pieces at last. The mysterious plague sweeping Asia, the incurable disease that had doctors stumped . . . because they didn’t know what they were truly seeing. They were trying to fight magic with medicine, and you cannot. You have to fight magic with even stronger magic.
This is evil beyond anything we have ever seen the Malandanti do, Adamo said. They have killed innocents in the past, like on the bridge when the Twin Willows Falcon was Called. But the magnitude of this is a million times worse.
What—what happens to these people? We were still at the top of the ridge, far enough away that the Malandanti below—if that’s what they were—hadn’t yet spotted the blue Benandante glow.
The soul is freed from the body, but it cannot return. Shen’s voice shook with rage just below the surface. It will wander the earth until the body finally dies. Meanwhile, the body is experiencing a horrible death.
The image from the news report, of the little girl weeping at the foot of the bed where a sheet-draped body lay, flashed in my mind. I swallowed hard and tasted bile.
We must take this site tonight, before any more innocent people fall victim to their evil, Nerina said. We are outnumbered, yes, but we have more power than them. The fake Malandanti do not have full strength—you can see how their auras flicker.
She made it sound so simple, like it was no big deal at all. But the enormity of it punched me in the gut. Tonight’s battle really did rest on my shoulders. The Tibetan Clan might be able to take the Temple, but the only thing that could stop this spell from killing more innocent people was me.
Chapter Thirteen
My Tudor House in Ruins
Bree
I peered over the ridgeline. The silver glow from the horde of quasi-Malandanti did look fractured, like a patchwork quilt of light instead of the smooth halo of the real Clan. I took in a deep breath. So what do I need to do?
Magdalena and Cecilia, you two go straight for the Yaks, Nerina said. Herd them into a safe place, away from the fighting. Once you have the Yaks secure, come back to help us.
Got it, Magdalena said.
Adamo and I will focus on any Concilio who are here. The rest of you, take on the Malandanti Clan.
Um, and me?
Nerina swung her great head to me, her eyes fierce in the darkness. Bree, I want you to focus on the fake Malandanti. I believe that if you use the magic of Angel Falls, you can magnify the magic to take several of them down at once.
But . . . I took a deep breath. I’d be killing innocent people.
They are already dead. This came from Shen. He padded into the circle and faced me. Right now, their bodies are suffering a horrible fate. I have seen it in the villages at the base of the mountain. If you destroy the soul, the body will die right away. You will be granting them a great mercy. He walked to stand directly in front of Nerina. I would consider it a great honor if you would allow me to be the mage’s protector in battle tonight. I will keep her safe while she uses the magic.
So be it, Nerina said. The animals flared out, their bodies tense and ready to fight. So was mine. My skin itched with the need to do magic, to stand in front of the Rabbit and take him down.
You know what we are up against. But that is nothing compared to our power. They are the dark, and we are the light. In bocca al lupo, Nerina said.
The Clan echoed the blessing back. “In bocca al lupo,” I whispered. And in one breath, we charged down the hill.
There was no stealth attack here. This wasn’t like the Waterfall, surrounded by trees and brush that you could hide in for days on end. The snowy mountainside hid nothing, and the day-bright glow of the Concilio’s auras was impossible to conceal. The Malandanti flooded out of the compound to meet us, the Harpy sweeping above them. Follow me, Shen called and swerved in a huge curve to the side of the compound. I know a back way in.
I dashed behind him, close on his heels, and risked looking back over my shoulder just before we disappeared behind the walls. Magdalena and Cecilia had broken through the line of Malandanti and raced to the main entrance of the compound, heading for the courtyard where the Yaks were kept. Adamo rose several feet in the air. With one flick of his fiery tail, he incinerated at least ten of the fake Malandanti. But just behind him, half a dozen of them were on Nerina’s back, dragging her beneath them, and the Harpy was diving in. I made a motion to return to the hillside, but the Snow Leopard blocked me. No, he said. You have your orders. You will be more help inside than out here.
I knew he was right, but God, I hoped the Benandanti could fend off the Malandanti until I was able to work the spell. Now that we were at the compound, I could see just how outnumbered we were. Lynxes, Tigers, Leopards, Hawks . . . fake Malandanti in every kind of form poured out of the gates, saturating the snow with their glittering silver auras. There were so many of them that it was impossible to spot the five real Malandanti in their midst.
And then I realized that the real Malandanti weren’t out there. They had to be inside the magical barrier protecting the Temple, where they would stay for the whole battle. We would have to kill every single fake Malandante in order to draw them out, and we had to draw them out of the barrier in order to take the site.
I steeled my shoulders and followed the Snow Leopard in through a small door hidden in the wall. Inside, it was eerily quiet, the only sound the faint jingling of the Yaks’ bells in the distance. I hoped Magdalena and Cecilia had gotten to them.
Shen led me through a twisting maze of stone walls until we came to a small chamber nestled in the far corner of the compound. A fire pit took up most of the room. A brazier swung above the flames, pitch-black smoke pouring out of it. I took a breath and gagged. The stench blackened the inside of my nostrils—it was worse than the Twin Willows High cafeteria on meatloaf day. I started to back out of the room, but Shen blocked me. That’s it.
What is that disgusting smell?
Yak flesh. They’re cremating them in here and harnessing the blood’s magic.
Gross. Seriously, why couldn’t this site have had, like, magical flowers or something? At least at home the Waterfall was just, you know, water. Clean and simple. I pushed my sleeves up and moved toward the fire pit. Nerina owed me a spa day when we got back to the States.
Shen positioned himself in the doorway, his fur bristling as he kept watch. I leaned over the fire, bathing my face in smoke. Gripping the sides of the pit, I closed my eyes. Yes, I could feel the magic spilling out from the brazier—whatever was inside it was keeping the spell going. I hovered my hand just above the top of the brazier. Could it really be so easy? I brought my hand down hard onto the little metal contraption, knocking it off the chains that held it above the fire.
Jets of silver light shot out from the pit. I ducked just in time and missed being fried to death by about a millimeter. The silver bolts tangled together, wove themselves into something that began to take shape . . . an animal, two animals . . . no, three animals . . .
Watch out! I yelled to Shen. He whirled just as the fake Malandanti leapt
at him. In a jumble of blue and silver light, he crushed one against the wall. The fake Malandante’s aura shattered into a million shards that shimmered like a broken mirror. I shot the red magic of Angel Falls at the second Malandante, pulling the bands tight around its middle until it popped and disintegrated into the air with a puff of silvery smoke. But the third Malandante raced away, pulled by some unseen force to the battleground outside.
“Shit,” I muttered, bending over the fire pit again. “Of course it couldn’t be that easy.” I peered deep into the embers. Okay, so whatever had been in the brazier was what pulled the poor souls out of the people the Malandanti had condemned to this ugly fate. The little metal ball dangled over the flames, and one of the three chains that had held it up was broken. It swung hypnotically, taunting me with its hidden power. I guessed that if the fire hit it in such a way again, another three Malandanti would burst forth. “Let’s shut you down before that happens.”
Nerina had said the magic of Angel Falls would work on it. Probably what I should’ve done in the first place. Dammit, I really hated it when she was right. I reached deep inside me, down the halls of that Tudor house, and summoned the dark red magic. It seeped out from my pores. I let it spill into the fire pit, holding my breath, waiting . . . waiting . . .
With an angry burst of will, the Malandanti magic fought back from beneath the flames, twisting and writhing. I struggled to keep hold of my magic, to keep myself from being pulled under into the abyss. The two forces met and broke apart, met again and meshed together into one.
My eyes flew open. The magic burst up from the pit and crashed into me like an unstoppable wave. It should’ve drowned me, but instead an incredible strength reached into every corner of my being. I expanded outward, my soul growing bigger and bigger . . .
The fire went out. The brazier tumbled to the floor, whatever had been inside it gone cold. I dropped my arms to my sides, feeling huger and taller and broader than any human being had the right to feel. I hadn’t just destroyed the spell. I’d absorbed the magic and made it my own, turned dark into light. Wow, I thought. I really am Obi-freaking-Wan Kenobi. I knew something extraordinary had just happened, something beyond just destroying the Malandanti’s spell, but what it was I couldn’t begin to comprehend.