by J. A. White
“Okay, almost no one. But she really has helped us! She restored Father, just like she said she would, and if Grace hadn’t warned us that the twins were coming you never would have had enough time to cast the spell.”
“So . . . what then?” Kara asked. “We just bring her with us? You don’t honestly think we can trust her, do you?”
Taff shook his head.
“We bring her somewhere safe,” he said. “And then we part ways.”
Kara exhaled through her teeth. If she left Grace here, it would be the same as murdering her outright. On the other hand, traveling with Grace, even temporarily, created a whole new set of unnecessary risks.
It’s never easy, is it? she thought.
“Besides,” Taff continued, “you heard what she said. She doesn’t even use magic anymore. How dangerous can she be?”
After Kara was done laughing at that one, she called Topper over and held Grace’s cold hand to his mouth. He licked her palm. Grace jerked suddenly awake as though woken from a nightmare.
Her first response was to wipe her hand on her shirt.
“Eww,” she said, pushing Topper away. “Where did this ugly dog come from?” Then she noticed the change in their surroundings and her blue eyes widened with wonder. She turned to Kara, her mouth agape. “You did this?”
Kara shrugged. “Mostly it was Topper.”
“Right,” Grace said, giving the yonstaff a wry look. “Topper. How long will time stay frozen like this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then let’s make use of it while we can.”
Reaching down, she removed a dagger from a sheath inside her boot and approached the nearest twin.
“What are you doing?” Kara asked.
“What needs to be done,” Grace said, raising the dagger into the air.
Kara grabbed her wrist.
“You can’t kill them,” Kara said.
“Why not?”
“They’re defenseless.”
“Which is, literally, the best time to kill them. Haven’t you learned anything? They’ll keep coming for you if you don’t stop them now. This makes sense and you know it.”
“No killing,” Kara said.
“Do you think these witches would show us any mercy if the situations were reversed?”
“Of course not. But that’s what makes us different. So you have to ask yourself, Grace—what kind of witch are you? Are you more like them—or me?”
Grace turned from Kara to the twins, from the twins to Kara. She sighed despondently.
“Are those really the only two choices?” she asked.
“You helped us,” Taff said. “You wouldn’t have done that unless there was good in you. Somewhere deep.” He considered his own words. “Really, really, really deep.”
With a groan of exasperation, Grace slid the dagger into her sheath.
“Being good isn’t very practical, is it?” she asked.
They found Darno just outside the farmhouse. His jaws were locked in a fearsome snarl as he faced down a trio of witches. From the fingertip of the center witch sparked a bolt of black lightening frozen in midair. Topper awoke the wolf, and Darno—thinking he was still in the midst of battle—snapped fiercely at the unsuspecting yonstaff before Kara calmed him.
“It’s okay,” she said, holding his head in place so she could look directly into his eyes. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
A patch of blood matted his fur. After checking for a wound, Kara was relieved to see that the blood wasn’t his own, though a scorch mark had burned through to the skin of his left flank. The hook-shaped stinger at the end of his scorpion tail was still wet from recent use.
Kara saw several witches lying motionless in the snow. When time was restored, Kara had the feeling that they would still be motionless.
“Thank you for protecting me,” Kara said.
Darno stared at her strangely as he licked a minor wound on his paw.
Why thank you? Wind blows. Sun rises. Thank them too?
“It’s different,” Kara said. “You could have run, but you risked your life for me.”
Not different. Sun gives light and heat. I protect Witch Girl. All we are.
Ignoring Grace’s snide comment to Taff—“Does she always talk to herself like that?”—Kara crossed the front yard. Snowflakes slid off her body and then returned to their original position after she passed, like a curtained doorway. Kara paused before the barrier surrounding the farmhouse, which was even more imposing up close: a purple, semitranslucent wall that seemed to touch the stars. It provided surprisingly little hindrance, however, stretching like taffy as they passed through it and then snapping back into place. They gathered Shadowdancer from the stable and set off down the main road, Kara and Grace on the mare, Taff riding Darno’s back.
“What happened to your hair?” Taff asked Grace.
“Lice,” she said, running a hand over the stubble. “Had to shear it off. What happened to your nose?”
Taff, with a suddenly self-conscious expression, felt his face.
“Nothing!”
“My mistake,” said Grace. “So what’s the plan here? Keep walking until we collapse of exhaustion?”
Taff beamed, eager to share: “There’s a man who’s frozen in time and we’re going to ask him about—”
“You don’t need to know our plan,” Kara interjected, placing a hand on her brother’s back. “Once time starts again we’ll go our separate ways.”
“We could do that,” Grace said. “The Clen knows I’ve little desire to remain in your company. But I’m not convinced that’s the wisest decision.”
“And why’s that?” Kara asked.
“Because we could help each other,” Grace said.
“We don’t need your help.”
“And yet you’ve already taken it. Twice. I reversed the curse on your father, just like I promised I would. And then there’s tonight.”
“That hardly balances the scales between us, Grace.”
“I know that, Kara. I can’t undo the things I’ve done. It’s just”—and here her voice softened to an uncertain whisper—“the World is a strange and unsettling place. There are so many things here that I don’t understand. And it’s so huge. It feels as though I could walk forever and never reach its end.”
Kara felt an unwelcome sense of empathy for the frail-looking girl before her. Despite their differences, the two were tied together by a common birthplace, which meant that Kara understood Grace’s feelings perfectly.
“People here don’t call it the World,” Kara mumbled softly. “They call it Sentium.”
“Sentium?” Grace asked.
“It was strange to us at first too,” Taff added. “You get used to it.”
“I miss De’Noran,” Grace said. “Things were simpler there.”
“Because you were Fen’de Stone’s daughter and could do whatever you pleased,” muttered Kara.
“Well, yes,” said Grace, as though this were obvious. “But it’s more than that. De’Noran is my home.” She crossed her arms and raised her chin, looking for just a moment like her old self. “I will return there one day. Now that Timoth Clen has left, the people of De’Noran will be ecstatic to see their rightful leader return.”
Kara shook her head in disbelief. Doesn’t Grace remember how she terrorized the entire village? They’ll never forgive her! But, of course, Grace would never think about things from that perspective. She was incapable of considering anyone else’s feelings but her own.
“I have bad news for you,” Kara snapped. “Timoth Clen destroyed your precious village before he left the island. There isn’t any more De’Noran to go back to.”
Grace didn’t say anything. When Kara glanced back over her shoulder, the girl’s eyes were shiny with tears.
“I guess you two are all I have left then,” she said with a sad smile. “Isn’t life strange?”
Taff’s face softened and he started to stay something comforting
, but Kara glared at him and shook her head: Don’t you dare! Back on De’Noran, Grace had consistently invoked the villagers’ compassion through downtrodden expressions and pitiable sighs. It was how she had hidden her true nature, and Kara was not about to fall for those old tricks.
She’s up to something, Kara thought. The quicker we get rid of her the better.
And yet she couldn’t help but notice how small and broken the girl looked.
What if she really is trying to change? What kind of person would I be if I just abandoned her?
Don’t be a fool! The minute you trust her is the minute she betrays you.
“What’s that?” Taff asked.
Kara squinted her eyes, trying to make out the shape in the darkness, but all she could see was a dark blur. Whatever it was, it looked tall.
“I think it’s a tower,” said Grace. “Strange-looking, too. Like an hourglass.”
Kara and Taff exchanged a knowing glance.
“We traveled along this road when we came to the farmhouse,” Kara said. “I don’t recall passing any tower, strange-looking or otherwise.”
“Because it only appears when time stops,” Taff said, beaming. “‘A heathen frozen in time.’ It has to be him!”
“Him who?” asked Grace.
Ignoring her question, Kara spurred Shadowdancer onward.
The lonely road provided minimal evidence that time no longer ticked in its normal fashion: a tree limb caught in midfall, birds that hung from the sky like taxidermy models, a solitary traveler entombed inside a black coach. Were it not for the presence of the Hourglass Tower, now clearly visible on the horizon, it might have seemed like nothing more than a particularly peaceful night.
“Maybe we should take a break,” Taff suggested, yawning his hands into the air. “This Querin guy could be good. But he might be the other thing, too.”
“I could do with a little rest,” Kara admitted.
In truth, she was exhausted. Maintaining her hold on Topper had been far more draining than expected, the mind-bridge between them constantly on the verge of collapsing. Kara had needed to sacrifice four additional memories just to stabilize the connection—something she had never had to do before.
The rules are different when you create an animal from nothing, she thought. Topper doesn’t belong in the real world—that’s why it’s so difficult to keep him here.
The fact that Rygoth could control Niersook with seemingly no effort at all made the thought of battling her more disheartening than ever.
It’s to be expected, thought Kara. Rygoth is a two-thousand-year-old wexari who studied magic at Sablethorn. I’m a thirteen-year-old girl who has no idea what she’s doing.
They built a fire by the side of the road, and though the time-frozen flames did not snap and crackle like a regular campfire, the warmth they provided was comforting enough. Taff cradled his head against Topper’s flank and soon both boy and yonstaff were snoring pleasantly. Kara, however, remained awake. She was pretty sure that Topper’s spell would continue functioning while she was asleep, but she wasn’t positive, and it made her too nervous to sleep.
Her other concern was Grace.
What is she up to?
As though hearing Kara’s thoughts, Grace looked in her direction. Her blue eyes shone like otherworldly crystals.
“Is the whelp going to snore all night?” she asked.
“I’m surprised he fell asleep at all,” Kara said. “He still has nightmares about you.”
“That’s sweet.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“I realize that. But still—it’s nice to be remembered.”
Kara couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not. Grace enunciated every word carefully, as though speaking to an unseen audience—and yet Kara seldom knew what she meant.
“Are you going to tell me why we’re going to this Hourglass Tower?” Grace asked.
“No.”
“How about this Querin person you and Taff keep talking about? Can you at least tell me—”
“No.”
Kara had accepted her responsibility to get Grace to safety, but she still didn’t trust her. Their plans needed to remain a secret.
“Why did you get rid of your grimoire?” Kara asked.
“So you don’t have to answer my questions,” Grace said, “but I have to answer yours. Is that how this works?”
“Yes,” replied Kara. “Why did you get rid of it?”
“I told you. It’s evil.”
“That never stopped you before.”
“Things are different now. I know what it’s like in the Well of Witches. I know what will happen to me if I go back.”
“The Faceless?” Kara asked, remembering the guardians of the Well, their paper bodies and hideous masks.
“They’ll be waiting,” Grace said, her blue eyes popping with fear. “And this time, you won’t be there to help me escape. They’ll make me one of them.” She touched her face as though to make sure it was still her own. “A monster.”
Kara had witnessed Grace’s terror of the Faceless firsthand, and she had to admit that there was a certain logic to her story. Grace would do anything to avoid being changed into one of them.
Anything? Even give up magic?
“You’re afraid,” Kara said. “That’s why you got rid of your grimoire. You know that once you start casting spells you won’t be able to stop, and it’s only a matter of time before you end up as one of the Faceless.”
“Well done, Kara,” Grace sneered, clapping her fingertips together. “If Master Blackwood were here, I’m sure he’d let you wear the gold star. Yes, I’m too frightened to use magic anymore. Does that please you?”
“Nothing about you pleases me.”
Grace shifted in her blankets until she was facing Kara. Without her hair she looked like a completely different person, yet the dismissive crook of her smile had not changed at all.
“Has it ever occurred to you that it was the grimoire that made me do the things I did?” she asked.
“I knew you before you became a witch, Grace. You were always bad.”
“Why? Because I picked on you?”
“It was more than—”
“I wasn’t the nicest girl in De’Noran. I’ll grant you that. But if it wasn’t for the grimoire I never would have hurt anyone. It’s not my fault magic is evil.”
“Magic isn’t evil,” Kara said. “It’s sick.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Kara wasn’t sure herself. It was Minoth Dravania, the headmaster of Sablethorn, who had told her that something was wrong with magic. Since then she had often lain awake at night, pondering his final words to her before she entered the queth’nondra.
Magic is sick. And I suspect you’re the one meant to heal it.
“I’ve met people who struggled against the grimoire’s influence,” Kara said, ignoring Grace’s question. “They tried to stay good. But not you. You embraced it.”
“What exactly do you want me to say?” Grace asked. She clasped her hands together in a mocking benediction. “I’m sorry I killed people. I still see their faces when I go to sleep at night, and I feel so gosh darn awful? What would that accomplish?”
“It would show that you’re human.”
“I don’t have anything to prove! Especially to you!”
Grace turned away and faced the flickerless flames. Kara rubbed her temples, her thoughts as scattered as the cinders suspended in the air. She didn’t trust her old enemy, that was for certain, and were it not for Darno’s protective presence Kara would not have been able to sleep; Grace might be unwilling to cast spells, but there was always the dagger in her boot. On the other hand, Grace had now helped them on two occasions, and a nagging part of Kara’s mind wondered if she was being unfair by not giving her a second chance. After all, Mary Kettle and Sordyr had done terrible things but redeemed themselves. And who was Kara to judge another’s actions while under the influence of the grimoi
re? She herself had killed a boy named Simon Loder. . . .
Her eyes were drifting shut when Grace spoke again.
“How did the story end?” she asked.
“What?”
“With Topper and Ruzen. The twins interrupted you before you could finish the story, remember? Topper refused to go to the city with Ruzen, because he was afraid the boy would come to harm, so Ruzen locked him in a cage. What happened next?”
Kara had no idea why Grace was asking about this, but she decided that it would be faster to just answer the question than argue about it.
“We couldn’t decide. Taff wanted Ruzen to learn the error of his ways and apologize to Topper. He wasn’t sure how that would happen, but he had a last line: ‘From that day on, Ruzen treasured the yonstaff’s friendship and never asked him to use his powers again.’”
“And you?”
“I didn’t think that was realistic. Ruzen is selfish and greedy. There’s no changing some people.”
“He grew up poor. It makes sense that he wanted money.”
“It makes sense, sure—but there comes a point where you have to forge your own path.” Kara closed her eyes, sleep almost taking her now. “How about you?” she mumbled groggily. “Which ending do you prefer?”
“I’m not sure,” Grace said. “I haven’t decided yet.”
As soon as Kara opened her eyes she knew something was wrong. Her mind felt raw and exposed, as though someone had been tunneling through her brain. She reached out to Topper to check the connection between them and gasped in surprise.
The mind-bridge was cracked in nearly a dozen places. It should have crumbled apart by now, but black, leechlike creatures had inserted themselves between the gaps to hold the bridge together. Kara supposed she should have been grateful—after all, if the spell had failed and time started again while she slept, perhaps the twins might have found them—but all she could think about was the word infection.
What are you? Kara thought.
One of the leeches opened its mouth—like the tiny, sucking aperture of a snail—and Kara jerked in pain as moments and images were involuntarily pried from her memory and swallowed whole.
Father holds my tiny hands on the saw’s handle and together we cut the wood for the birdhouse. Lucas looks over at me while plucking a pear from a branch and I forget what I am going to say next. Mother—