“We’re living in the backlash of that report,” Rochelle explained. “The Mansion is a microcosm of the United States, and therefore when the numbers were released, the Trads won the elections for the first time in years and have won every election since. They did all of this.”
She pointed upward, where the towers rose high into the early morning sky. Last night I had not been able to see their greatness, but in daylight, the castle-like fortress was magnificent. Though the buildings were still skyscrapers, the gothic architecture was that of medieval times, complete with pointed arches, vaulted ceilings, and gargoyles.
“It’s a fitting time period to go back to,” I said, my voice slipping into the pedantic the same way my mother’s did when she talked about a star. “One of the greatest strengths of gothic architecture is that by then they had figured out how to make buildings taller. For example the flying buttress, as can be seen on the sides of this building—”
We walked into the Level Five tower as I rambled on about the stones and metals used during the different ages. I was nervous, and reciting facts always made me feel better in such situations. My mother did the same thing; putting us together when we were both nervous was like two dueling dictionaries.
Rochelle led us up to the top of the tower, where the Council’s private rooms were. A guard in the same antiquated garb as the ones I’d seen last night stood watch in front of the door, and though he allowed me to pass, Rochelle and Egret were asked to wait outside.
“It’s not personal,” the guard said in response to Egret’s huffing. “It’s just the way the Council does business.”
Inside the room there was only one piece of furniture: a round stone table with four chairs. Seated in three of the chairs were witches and wizards in olden-style cloth robes, and the fourth chair, closest to me, was empty. All three Council members had notepads and pens in front of them, as though they were on a jury. Maybe, in a way, they were.
“Please sit,” one of the men said gently as he waved to the fourth seat. The chair drew back on its own, and I sat down in it.
Two men and one woman comprised the Council. One of the men was older, probably in his midsixties, with a salt-and-pepper beard and matching bushy mustache. The other man, the one who had welcomed me, was in his early thirties and bald. On my right was a woman who looked about as old as Merlin. She saluted by moving her hand from above her ear out toward me, and I recognized the word hello from when I’d seen kids signing at school.
“Is she…?” I asked, then realized she could probably read lips.
“Yes, but don’t worry, Lettie has her methods of communication.” As though the bald man could read my mind, he answered my next question too: “Although cochlear implants are the norm these days, there are still some forms of hearing loss that cannot be cured. Even modern medicine has its limits.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Don’t be. These words appeared in front of Lettie like subtitles as she signed her words. I’m the most capable person in this room.
“She’s not wrong,” the bald man admitted. “We may set up our chairs like the round table, but honestly, Lettie is the backbone of this Council. She’s also the most powerful Level Five alive now that Merlin’s gone—at least until he’s reborn again. But don’t tell her we said so.” He winked at Lettie, who had obviously understood him by her huge smile.
“Absolutely right,” the salt-and-pepper haired man said. “Now, let me give the official introduction: I am Bert, newest member to be voted onto this Council. This is Aaron, second newest member, and obviously you know Lettie. But enough about us—we understand you were present in Merlin’s cottage on the night of his death. Merlin had grown crotchety and reclusive, so imagine our surprise to find out he had a visitor. Can you tell us why you were there that night?”
I wished Merlin was there to tell me what to do. Were these wizards trustworthy? Did they fear the incubi, or worse, the Artists who drew them in like worms wriggling on a hook? But Merlin wasn’t there, wouldn’t be for a long time if ever, and I had to trust my instincts if I hoped to survive. Without a purpose, the Council would cast me out into the streets with a blank memory and no hope of evading my father and the other demons.
“It’s probably easier if I show you. Lettie, may I borrow this notepad?”
I withdrew my pencil from my pocket. Though I had dulled it in my original drawing, somehow it had sharpened itself since. Concentrating as hard as I could, I drew the outline of a china teapot with a c-shaped handle and a short spout.
“Impossible,” Aaron said under his breath.
I opened my eyes. Sure enough, the teapot had emerged in front of me, though the actual design was slightly different than I’d imagined it. Instead of plain white china, this teapot was zebra print with silver along the lid’s trim.
Interesting style, Lettie said with a raise of one eyebrow.
“Yeah, sorry, that keeps happening.”
Bert raised the lid of the teapot, and steam from the tea inside billowed out.
“That’s why Egret brought me to Merlin,” I continued awkwardly as they passed the teapot around. “On the way here we were attacked by incubi—perhaps even my father, though I couldn’t tell the difference—and only reached the edge of your protection spell in the last second before capture.”
“They’ve become a serious problem,” Aaron admitted. “Besides the Artists they killed on their own planet, they’ve sought out and killed the few Artists in this world who didn’t even know their true nature. Most likely, you’re the only one left.”
This stung, even though it didn’t surprise me.
“But we only need one,” Bert said under his breath to Aaron.
“What?”
Bert, Aaron, and Lettie exchanged the looks parents give kids when they’re deciding whether to trust them with a task. But this was not babysitting a little sister or having the pasta ready when my mom came home; this was big.
“It’s the portal,” Bert began. “The door to the incubus prison created by the Igreefee can only be opened and closed by one type of person—”
“An Artist?” I guessed.
“Exactly. We don’t know how the portal got opened the first time or why, but every century or so an Artist with a daddy complex goes looking for his or her father and bam, mass destruction. Usually, there are plenty of Artists around to cage the demons and lock them up for good, but this time the incubi were smarter. They were organized. Instead of the raging, howling beasts they normally are, the most recent incubi had a plan. They destroyed the fairy world, all of their Artist children, and now they’re focused on Earth.”
“And after Earth? What do the incubi want then?”
No one knows. Lettie hung her head. But if it’s total annihilation they want, they’ll get it. Once their children have all been eaten, the incubi will have the strength to break any curse, including the protection spell on this castle and the one preventing their magic from harming nonmagical creatures. The humans will be slaughtered like pigs.
My thoughts went to my mother, then to Lacey, and then to Rochelle and Egret. Everyone who I’d ever loved would be killed… unless I wasn’t.
“What can we do?” I asked eagerly. “Who can we call to help us? All I need is the chance to get to that portal, and all of the incubi will be forced back to where they came from.”
“The Igreefee are our first line of defense,” Aaron said, “since they know the most about these demons and how they can be stopped. But we’ll also call our other allies: the Earth Dragons, led by Blair Caden; the Sun Dragon, King Grian, and his Bone Dragon subjects; and the Ice Dragons, though they still hold a grudge against the Igreefee. We should be prepared for battle here on the Mansion lawn and above in the light of the full moon…. I just don’t know which full moon.”
“Against our force, the incubi are bound to fall. And when they do, I’ll be standing at the portal ready to close it for good. Speaking of which, how do I do that, exactly
?”
The Council exchanged another look. Then Lettie turned to me, her face full of pity, and signed these four words so slowly that I had to repeat them in my head to figure her message out.
You.
Have.
To.
Die.
Chapter Six
YOU HAVE to die. The words echoed over and over in my mind. I had been so proud of my newfound abilities that I had missed the truth: I had been brought to this place to be a human sacrifice.
“I… I need some air,” I whispered.
“Wait—” Aaron said, but I had already pushed open the door and slid through.
Outside the Mansion, I took a few deep breaths until the pressure on my chest eased. Maybe the Council was wrong about the way to close the portal, I reasoned, or maybe I could just refuse the task.
There had to be a way out.
I didn’t want to be alone, so I found Egret on my walk. Rochelle had gone back to work for the day, but Egret had apparently called out from school. She offered to show me around the rest of the Mansion, at least the parts she knew from trips there with her father, and though the last thing I felt like doing was sightseeing, I also didn’t want to sit alone in Rochelle’s apartment.
Perhaps Egret could read my face well enough to know I didn’t want to talk, because our trip in the elevator was silent. When we reached the ground floor, she turned left toward a pair of double doors and, after peeking inside, swung them open.
“This is my favorite room of the Mansion,” she said as I walked into the ballroom. “The Mods did away with the practice of formal balls for a while, but the Trads have brought back the tradition.”
The room was set up for another ball, complete with hundreds of tables clothed in blue, and silver chairs at each table with their accompanying silver table settings. Glass goblets reflected the light of the blue stained glass windows like so many stars in the night sky.
“It’s beautiful,” I said as we journeyed across the expanse of wooden dance floor. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“When I was little, my dad would bring me to these balls. I had never seen anything like them either; our dances are a little different back at camp. When I was older I refused to go, saying I would rather die than be caught in the required ball gown surrounded by a bunch of—what did I call them?—magicians, but I wish now that I’d let him take me. There’s nothing as magical as a wizard ball.”
“I wish I could go to one,” I said as I studied the unmarked floor.
“You are going to one!” Egret exclaimed. “What do you think all of this is for? I’ll bet as soon as the Council found out what you were, they signaled their decorator to set this all up.”
“But it’s only been ten minutes…,” I trailed off. “Right. Magic. What about incubi? The Council said there would be a battle here, on the Mansion lawn.”
“They’re probably right. If they do think the incubi will come here, then they’ll send requests to the dragons, but gathering such forces and training them for a unified attack takes time. Plus, the Council seems to be under the impression that these balls give their people hope.”
“Are you coming tonight too?”
“Oh, no, I can’t. I have a date with the psycho girl from camp, Grace. She comes off strong, but—”
“I know, I know, she’s hot.”
“Exactly. But I may show up at the end—I’ll bet the Council called every dragon in the freaking universe, and some of them might show up tonight and make a splashy entrance. There’s no way I’ll miss that arrival.”
Egret removed the newest model of music player from her pocket and set it on one of the dinner plates. When she pressed the red button on the top, the speakers folded out first and the control panel followed.
“You would carry those in your pocket,” I said as I inspected the player. “I’m pretty sure I’m the only kid in school who doesn’t have one.”
“They’re great.” Egret scrolled through her music until she found something she liked, then pressed play. A heavy bass thrummed first, and then the screaming followed.
“What is this?” I said, barely able to hear myself through the music and the hands covering my ears.
“It’s electro punk. Why, what kind of music do you listen to, Space Boy?”
I blushed. “If I tell you, you’ll make fun of me—”
“Spit it out.”
“Fine, I listen to classical.”
“Like boy bands from the 1990s?”
“No, like Beethoven. Bach. Mozart.”
Egret stared at me blankly.
“It sounds like this.” I paused her music, then hummed the first few bars of Für Elise. My voice was high for a boy, but the notes became even softer and more delicate that way.
As mostly a joke, I grabbed Egret and began to dance her around the ballroom floor. At first I tried to grab her waist, but she pushed my arms up to her shoulders and grabbed my waist instead.
“I never follow,” she said as she took over the direction our feet headed.
I nodded since I was too busy humming to reply. When I closed my eyes and drifted in the song like a leaf bobbing up and down in a river’s rush, I felt like maybe I could die as long as I had moments like these to take with me into the darkness. I tried to take in every smell and touch and feeling—the smokiness of Egret’s hair, the warmth of her hands on my waist, the closeness of her breath as it mingled with mine—so that when the time came, I could recall it perfectly.
“So what did the Council tell you that got you so down?” Egret asked when I finally finished the song. “When you left that room you looked like your mom had died or something.”
“Oh, that—”
Egret glanced at the music player, which also displayed the time. “Sorry, I actually need to leave now if I hope to get back home in time for my date. But tell me later, okay?”
“Sure. I will.”
After Egret left all of the adrenaline and endorphins that came with being around her faded. My body felt heavy, and succumbing to the weight of the news, I lay down in the middle of the dance floor and stared up at the ballroom ceiling. The glass above had been enchanted to show the night sky even though it was only midafternoon, and the northern constellations I knew like friends—Pegasus, Pisces, Cygnus—brought me comfort.
Someone approached from behind, signaled by the slide of padded shoes on the ballroom floor accompanied by the tap-tap of a cane. By tilting my head backward I could see the woman approaching the middle of the dance floor—though she was upside-down. She had brown skin freckled with age spots and gray hair tied back with a green silk handkerchief. Her attire was that of a wealthy woman—green suit, silver buttons, suede pumps—and her cane was topped with a silver dragon head.
“Blair?” I guessed, remembering the Council’s mention of the leader of the Earth Dragons.
“Smart boy.” She slid until her feet were only a few inches from my head. “And I presume you’re the Mansion’s human broom? Be sure to get those few specks of dust by your left hand before you leave.”
Her laugh was accompanied by a deep cough. Blair had to be more than seventy years old, and in our polluted atmosphere, that almost guaranteed a lung problem.
“I’ve been watching the sky,” I said as I sat up. “I’m really into constellations.”
“You’d like my friend Grian,” she said. “Though he’d rather spend time staring at our sun, most likely.”
“You’re friends with the King Grian of Draman?”
“The best. I’m in love with him, in fact, and have been for fifty years, but don’t tell my husband.” She winked at me. “Unfortunately, King Grian is as gay as they come. And who are you, little Luke?”
“Oh, didn’t the Council tell you—”
“I don’t mean what are you. Of course I know you’re the last Artist, or I wouldn’t be here preparing for battle instead of making apple pies for my grandchildren. I mean who are you.”
I be
gan to wonder if Blair might be senile.
“When you fall for someone who can’t love you back the way you want, you become—how shall I say this?—more sensitive to these things. And you, my little Luke, are making my nose tickle.”
“I don’t know what I am.” I looked down at my hands.
“Oh, I doubt that. Have you tried using that magical pencil of yours to figure it out?”
“What do you mean?”
Blair moved her face down so that it was inches from mine.
“Do you trust me?”
“Well, I just met you—”
“Then it’s settled. We’re going on a ride.”
“A ride to…,” I trailed off as Blair began to change.
She grew larger and larger, stronger and stronger, until she took up most of the dance floor with her bulk. Her scales slid out of her skin like knives, along with her talons and spikes. I’d expected her dragon form to be old like her human body, but it appeared Earth Dragons grew stronger, not weaker, with age.
Hop on, Blair told me in the same thought-speak as Egret had used.
What did I have to lose? In a few days, I’d be dead anyway. So I used her tree trunk-sized leg as a stepping stool and climbed onto her back, securing my hands by sliding them under a few of her scales.
“Now hold tight.” Blair tensed her muscles, then pushed off with all of her might. In a few flaps of her wings we burst through the glass panels of the ballroom ceiling, sending shards raining on the dance floor.
Don’t worry about that, Blair assured me without looking back. To a wizard, that fix is just the wave of a hand.
We sailed through the crisp fall air. Blair must have known I couldn’t leave the Mansion’s protection spell, because she carried me right under the shimmering bubble’s edge. Not long after leaving the ballroom, we descended into a hole in the middle of the forest.
This is a very important place, Blair told me as she lowered herself to the ground. We were in the middle of a clearing, and the only other thing there was a large boulder. This is where Merlin used to transition back when he was Mani, a boy who lied to his friends in the Animal Guard in order to fit in. It was his favorite place to reflect on important matters, and even when he was old and blind, he still made it here to think.
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