Perfect. Let me go find a good fairy with selfless morals. “So, that’s a no?”
“It is not a no.”
I smile. “So, it’s a yes?”
“You asked where you could find it. I’ve answered that,” Poncho says, looking back at his desk.
Right. “Can you get some for me?”
Poncho raises his eyebrow. “What is your use for Dragooni?”
I debate lying to him, but then I realize that he’s staring at the blackness on my hands—or where it is under the glamour—so he probably already has that answer, too. “I’m getting my magic back.”
“That is used in the Restitution,” he says.
“That’s the last piece I need so I can do it.”
He stares at my hand. There’s nothing. “This is the path you choose?”
I shuffle my feet and lean against the desk. “Yes,” I say.
Poncho seems like he wants to object, but he doesn’t. “I can assist you. It will take a couple of days.”
“Thank you, Poncho.” A couple of days. That will be right in time for the Observance.
“May I give you some advice?”
“You will anyway,” I say.
“Only if you want it.”
“Sure, then. What’s your advice?”
“You alone can undo what has been caused,” he says.
I stare at him. “What does that mean?”
“You sought an answer, and you have found it. It is not in hiding. You alone can undo what is.”
“I hate your riddles.”
He shrugs. “This is not a riddle.”
It is, but okay.
I turn to leave, but pause. “Can you answer one more thing?”
Poncho lowers a pen and nods in my direction. One of the cats rubs up next to his hand and he pets it. “If it is possible.”
“You said guiding me was your destiny. Why?”
Seak the cat jumps off the desk toward me, but then stalks off into the stacks. Poncho moves away from the reference desk and sits in a chair closer to where I’m standing. “Our paths intersected long ago, before I knew your parents.”
My parents. I push down the pain that bubbles up. What would they think of me now? Not that they could change any of this or make it better. The void is already part of me. I’m part of the void. More demon than witch. I have been for years, and maybe I would’ve been even without Azsis taking my essence.
I sit next to Poncho. “You’ve never told me what they were to you.”
Poncho rests his hands on the top of the table. “I go back a long time with your family. I have existed for centuries alongside them, back to Beatrice and Clara.” Emmaline Spencer’s daughters. My great-great-great-great-great-grandma. That’s a long time of being alive, of existing.
“Are you a vampire?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Those are fictional,” he says. I start to say I’m joking, but he keeps talking. “Demons do not always age the same as humans.”
Demon. He’s never admitted that out loud to me.
“What are days for us could be years for you. I was not, back then, connected to this witch world. I was but a boy when they were living, and barely a man when your grandmother was a child.”
He knew child-Gran? What was that like? I bet she was pretty terrifying even then.
“For centuries I served all as a sage—I was sought after by demon and witch and human alike. Sages were highly respected then, honored even, and sages served all, not one. Later, I had to become two in order to serve both sides.”
“That’s why you became Vassago. Do you have a split personality like some Jekyll and Hyde freakozoid?” He shoots me dagger eyes, and I put up a hand in defense. “What happened that made you become two people?”
Poncho’s eyes get that far-off look in them. Not like a prophecy, but like a memory. “I am not two, I am one. I am myself, the one before you, but times changed. The belief in the power of a sage for Nons decreased, witches avoided all things demonic, and only with the demons I found a welcoming home,” he says. “Then, sixty years ago I saw a vision. Witches killing other witches and turning demonic. In my vision, it was chaos, and I, being a servant of all, knew I should come forward—but if I spoke up, then I risked my life. So, I said nothing, did nothing. Until it happened.”
He means when the family name went bad because of Emmaline Spencer’s choices. Gran was a child when it all started. A bunch of witches woke up and claimed they were demonic. They killed other witches, and the Enforcers went on a hunt for halflings. The Triad wiped it out of history as much as they could, like they still wipe out halflings when they find them.
Poncho knew that was going to happen.
“I came to the Triad and offered my assistance. We prevented deaths, and I traded them for a favor to be paid later, and went home.” He pauses and moves from the table. I watch as he walks around the room, seemingly nervous. “But home was not the same. I was no longer welcome there. One demon in particular, with a fascination for souvenirs from his victims, wished for my exile. He saw me as a betrayer, and refused to let me into the inner circles of our life. We battled, as demons do, and he won. He was much stronger than me, for I was not a fighter but a guide. I was banished and then given refuge here, in exchange for what I’d done.”
He gestures around the library, arms out, when he finishes.
“Is he gone now, this demon? Is that why you can go outside?”
Poncho’s eyes focus on mine. “He’s not gone. Not yet. Poncho Alistair is only safe here.”
“So, Vassago is how you go outside. And all those files in the computer about Vassago?”
Poncho disappears into the stacks for a moment and returns with Hyde. He walks back toward the table, but doesn’t sit. “They were intentionally placed there once I was sent here. Sages have a purpose, and even though I am locked away here, I must serve. Vassago is how I fulfill that role, a service to all. I knew a time was coming when I would be needed again. I developed a new image so I could fill the role needed for any who sought guidance.”
“So, which one is the real you—Vassago or Poncho?”
“Both are me. I am both. We can be each other, yet neither.”
I roll my eyes. “That makes no sense.”
“Not all things make sense in this world,” he says.
I tap my fingers along the tabletop. He didn’t tell me anything about my parents, but him being a sage makes everything clearer. It’s the reason he talks in riddles—the reason he can only answer certain questions. Sages have a purpose.
“I first met your parents when they were in training, and there was special quality about them both,” he says. My ears seem to perk up and I sit up straighter in the chair. I can almost see them in here, how they looked back then, talking with Poncho like I am now. “It was only a short period after they were Paired before they got married. We didn’t really speak much until around that time. They would come in to research cases, and I provided them with sources, as I do with everyone who seeks my help. Your parents came to me once they discovered they were pregnant with you.”
“With me?”
He nods. “I remember the day. They came in looking for information. Genevieve was highly distraught, Owen demanding. He was usually the quiet one. We worked on that one until after you were born. I held you once.”
“Sweet,” I say with a smile.
“You spit up on me.”
Or not. Should I apologize for that or would it be weird?
“Why were they upset?” About me, is what I leave out. I don’t know anything about that. Did they want me? Were the ready? Was I a burden more than a joy? My parents were amazing, so the thought of that makes me a little sick.
“I can’t remember.” Wait…that’s not cool. “I should get that,” he says.
“Get what—” And then the phone rings. Sneaky.
Emmaline Spencer had a secret. Her daughters had secrets. Gran had a secret. My parents had a secret. I have secret
s. Maybe all the Warren women are woven and bonded with secrets.
When he hangs up I whisper, “Was it the demon bloodline thing?” He blinks. “The reason my parents were upset. Because I already know about that so…”
He considers this for a moment and then says, “I’m certain it must have been. I will inform you when the Dragooni arrives.”
And that is when I know it wasn’t.
Back outside, I call Ric. I haven’t talked to him for a week now since he’s been in Texas with the injury, and with this new information about my parents I need him to reassure me. He answers on the third ring.
“I miss you,” I say.
“Come visit,” he says. “I’m finally up and moving. We can have a dance party.”
That sounds remarkable. “I can’t leave right now. It’s not a good time.”
“I wish I could be there with you right now.” I wish that too, but I don’t say it. I don’t say anything, for a long second, because my mind is racing. If he was here or I was there, maybe none of this would be happening. “Connie’s going to pull through this, Penelope.”
Connie. I wasn’t even thinking about her for once and now I am. The way she used to follow us around when we were kids, and Ric was my only other friend so I’d get mad at her for wanting to be around him. Really, she wanted to be around me. “You can’t be certain of that.”
“You’re right, I can’t.”
Silence fills the line. That’s not what I want him to say. I want him to say she’s going to be perfect. That all of this will be over soon or I’ll wake up to find it’s all been some horrible nightmare. A fake one instead of a real one.
“Ric, I think I did something stupid.”
He’s quiet and for a second I wonder if he heard me. My heart is racing with the possibility of him knowing, of telling someone. “What? I’m the king of stupid.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Okay…”
“I mean, I can’t. But I want to.”
“What is it?”
Silence again. He’s waiting on the line and I’m not even sure what I’m going to say or where to start. The beginning, I guess.
“There’s this demon.” And as soon as I say it I regret it. I can’t see his face, but I can imagine it. Twisted and hard. Just like Carter’s. Like mine used to be.
“That mauve one?”
I open my mouth then pause. I’ve never mentioned any of this before. “You know about that?”
“Carter may have mentioned it.”
Carter…wait. “You talk to Carter?”
“Only once. He called me yesterday and asked me if you’d mentioned anyone named Lia. That’s the mauve demon’s name, right?”
I can’t believe Carter’s been talking to Ric about me. About me. And trying to find out information about the demon. Nerves liquefy to red hot anger. That’s not his place to talk to my best friend for information. Ric doesn’t have information, but that’s not the point. Carter doesn’t trust me.
In my silence, Ric says, “Are you hanging out with a demon? What’s going on there?”
“Nothing,” I snap. I can’t believe I almost told him about this. I won’t now that I know he could turn around and tell Carter.
“Penelope, you can tell me if you’re in trouble.”
“I already said I couldn’t,” I yell into the phone.
Ric’s voice gets higher, more frantic. “So, you are in trouble?”
“No,” I snap. “God. Just forget it.”
He cusses at me and that pisses me off even more. “What’s going on? Carter and I love you. Your Gran said that you—”
“You’ve been talking to Gran too?”
He must hear the annoyance in my voice because his tone softens. “A couple times. We’re all worried about you.”
Everyone has been talking about me to each other behind my back. They’re all plotting against me. “Don’t be. I’m fine. You know what? I’m amazing.”
“You don’t sound fine or amazing.”
I hit him where I know it will cause the most pain. I want him to feel how I do right now. “You aren’t even here, Ric. You don’t know anything about me.”
His words rush out on the line. “You’re right. I’m sorry that I was injured on your patrol, and my partner died and I had to leave against my will. How selfish of me, Penelope. You’ve been my best friend forever, so sue me for being worried. At least you have people who worry about you. Where have you been the last month? You haven’t called to ask how I’m doing, how I’m coping. You’ve been playing with demons.”
“Screw you. You know nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“I shouldn’t have called.”
And then I hang up.
I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone checking up on me. I’ll do what I planned to do and save my sister and then the Statics. I don’t need anyone to tell me it’s right or wrong. I have to undo this, or no one else will.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Carter
Two days until the Observance. Beyond my duties with my father, I’ve spent all my time reading books. My eyes are heavy as I turn the page.
A sage foretold of Taliel’s chosen. It is said that the gift will be given during the Observance between midnight and dawn. During this time, a singular witch will be born. This sole witch will have enough power to eliminate the void or the essence forever. The control of this witch, the side to which the being pledges loyalty, will receive the prize, for the other side will cease to be. The eternal struggle between good and evil would be no more. This witch alone will be able to choose which side, good or evil, essence or void, will remain. The other will be destroyed.
Shit.
I straighten up in my chair. This is the jackpot. I’ve read pieces of pieces, but nothing like this.
This sole witch will not yet be made by the eighteenth year, and will be able to access both sides of the magic. This witch shall be willing and have used both sides of the magics before. When chosen, the witch will be at the center source for either side, void or essence, and from there use the opposite magic and ritual to destroy the other side, as only one can exist at a time within a source without complication.
I look up and Poncho is standing across from me, eyes on me. “If this is true, then it happens in two days.” Penelope. She’s this. She can use both sides. She has before, anyway, all she’d have to do is choose.
How has the Triad kept this a secret? “I’ve never heard about any of this before.”
Because the Triad, since our creation, only tells half-truths and keeps things buried. They cover up situations, lie instead of fix them. I’m the perfect example.
My mind flashes through all the warnings that my dad ever gave me about halflings. Dangerous. Deadly. Abominations. Feared. The way there’d be a kid in my classes who was there one day and gone the next. When I was younger, Dad would tell me they moved. After I learned what I was, he told me that they were killed. All those halflings. That they were a threat, and he never told me why. I never asked, either. I couldn’t.
“This is why they get rid of halflings, isn’t it?” I ask.
Poncho nods. “Every Triad, past and present, has been aware of this legend. Current leaders may not remember the full story, but it’s why Enforcer testing is mandatory. The reason it was created to begin with.”
“They were looking for the most powerful witch,” I say.
It makes sense now. They’ve been adamant for decades about everyone being tested for the role of Enforcer. It’s the perfect way to discover halflings. They’re controlled by the fear of this sole witch. If someone existed with that much power, then it could destroy the whole world we’ve built. The Triad looks for halflings, gets rid of them so they can’t threaten life, and continues to exist. Fear keeps us all alive, and it keeps the Triad blind in their prejudice.
Poncho nods. “The leaders of the past were adamant about responding to this threat, and they pulled out the stron
gest witches as Enforcers, a way to search for warning signs that one may be more than a normal witch.”
I cross my arms. “Surely the current Triad is aware of this threat, too.”
Poncho crinkles his eyes and his brow furrows. “When you wait centuries for a thing that never happens, it often gets forgotten. If such a witch were to exist, the power would shift. A choice for demons or for witches that would rid the threat of the other forever. There would no longer be a war.”
And this is why they’re acting weird. They don’t want to react poorly to the Statics, because what if one of them ends up being this gift? So, they mark them, keep them from becoming powerful. And Penelope—it’s the same thing. If she can’t access the void, then she can’t be the threat to end the witches.
“It’s Penelope,” I say. I look at Poncho. All the warnings from Vassago make sense now.
CHECK. REMAIN. DAGGER. MAUVE. OBSERVANCE. QUEEN.
The mauve demon is using her. She’s the gift, the queen Lucifer was looking for—she’s the sole witch who can destroy the other side.
Magic is a balance.
If the void is destroyed and there are no demons, there’d be no need for witches. We were only created because of the demons. But they were here first. If we didn’t have magic, if they succeed in destroying the essence, then they’d be the most powerful beings again. The earth would be their playground. That can’t happen.
This is why I’m in a checkmate: I have to save her or lose her.
I grab my bag. I have to go find Penelope. I have to tell her. I pause and look at Poncho. “This choice will destroy all witches if she chooses the void?” Poncho nods. “And all demons, if she goes the other way?”
Poncho nods. “Anyone with a connection to the void.”
The void…“Even halflings?”
“Even so.” He says.
That includes Pen. And me.
…
Pen is using the void, and she’s changing because of it. Even though her essence is bound by the mark, the void isn’t affected. The demon said as much. If Pen really is the one who should be able to access both sides, the gift from Taliel to Lucifer, then I need to figure out how to stop her and the threat she poses to witches and demons everywhere. She can’t know she’s a threat to everything, can she? Would Pen still do this if she knew it would wipe out a whole race? She wouldn’t. I have to believe she wouldn’t.
Storm: a Salt novel (Entangled Teen) Page 19