by Katie Cross
She left me.
“Jikes, girl. You’re a sopping wet disaster. Why does Isadora always leave me with the mess? Can’t she deal with it once or twice?”
“Isadora. Where is she?”
“I already told you. She’s gone with Mabel to the West so I can get you home safe. Can you walk?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Well figure it out!” Sanna snapped. “The tide is coming in, and you’re in no shape to transport. If we wait any longer we won’t get back out. I’m not going to drown for you, that’s for sure. And you can bet the blue isn’t going to come in here.”
She shoved me forward. I stumbled into the waist-high cave water. She was right, I had no presence of mind to do magic. The darkness and pain and confusion wrapped me in a spiderweb of uncertainty and fog.
Saltwater rubbed against the raw flesh of my blistered skin. It kept me awake, kept the darkness around the edges of my vision at bay, so I dragged my arms through the frigid water with every forward movement. Pain. More pain. After sharing Miss Mabel’s mind, I felt like I had an infinite tolerance for suffering. Hadn’t I already lived an eternity in torment?
Slowly I crept into the darkness. It seemed as if I only moved an inch at a time. My breaths came in long gasps. Sand changed to rock. I grappled over the sharp points, crying out with every stab, every painful jab of their weatherworn faces.
“Sanna.” My legs buckled. Spots moved across my vision. “I-I can’t.”
“Go!” she yelled. Water covered my head when I stepped off an outcropping. A wave of weakness overcame me, and I paddled with pathetic bats of my hand for the surface. A shot of magic slammed into my back, propelling me through the water. Suddenly I was coughing on the beach, the sand at my back and a sky of bright stars above me. The air was clear and calm here. No evil. No Miss Mabel.
I saw a glimmer and a flash of a bright blue wing and collapsed onto the sandy beach.
Safety
The next hour or so passed in snatches of a velvet sky and stars. I felt the warmth of the blue dragon’s scales beneath me. Sanna’s mumbling voice. Occasionally I could open my eyes just enough to see the familiar treetops of Letum Wood below. In the background, the dull pulse of Miss Mabel’s hatred beat.
She left me.
I passed out just when Chatham Castle came into view through a haze of smoke lingering above Chatham City. I woke up screaming.
A firm hand grabbed my flailing wrists and pinned them to my sides. My eyes flew open to stare at a familiar ceiling marked by dark stones and a thick wooden beam. Beneath my other hand lay a soft, velvety texture. My racing heart slowed. Our apartment at Chatham Castle. I lay on my back on the divan. Reeves crouched next to me, bottles of Stella’s healing oils littering the table. I pressed my palm to my forehead to find a bandage covering my arm.
Safety.
“You’re quite safe now, Miss Bianca.” Reeves’ face swam into my blurry vision. I stared at him in disbelief. Was this finally real? Not another nightmare? I feared Angelina would spring from the shadows before I remembered she was gone. Disintegrated.
“Reeves?”
“Are you in pain, Miss?”
I blinked, taking a mental inventory of my body. Pain, my new friend. Yes. I hurt everywhere. I straightened but instantly regretted it when my tired body protested, feeling like I’d swum through a pool of metal. Reeves put a hand behind my shoulders and helped me sit up.
“How did I get back?” I asked, snatches of my memory returning. The answer came from the other side of the room.
“The blue,” Sanna said in her raspy voice. “We flew you back.”
“Isadora?”
“Gone.” Sanna sat near the hearth, hunched over. Her silver flask glowed, reflecting the light of the fire when she tossed back a swig.
“Papa? Where is he? Did he make it?”
Marten stepped out of the shadows, a worried expression on his face as he sat next to me on the edge of the divan. He motioned to Papa’s room. “Stella is in with him now. He’s very injured and very angry.”
“But he’s alive?”
Marten smiled softly and patted my hand. His strained eyes seemed almost frightened. “Yes, of course he’s alive. And it’s good to see that you are too. You gave us … quite a scare.”
“Bianca?”
A deep, raspy voice caught my attention. Papa stood in the doorway to his room. He looked gaunt, with one eye still swollen closed, and his arm wrapped in a sling. He leaned to one side, as if both feet couldn’t bear all his weight.
“Derek!” Stella admonished from behind him. “Derek, you must lay back down!”
He ignored her and limped forward. Marten stood, giving my shoulder one last affectionate squeeze.
“You’re alive,” said Papa.
“Like you could rule the Central Network without me,” I whispered, forcing a faltering, teary smile.
A strangled sound burst from his throat when he sank to the couch next to me and pulled me in his arms. A tear fell from his cheek. He ran a hand over my head, the hair still matted with blood, and held me so tight with his good arm I could barely breathe. I closed my eyes, inhaled his woodsy smell, and let the past few days melt away.
“I’m so sorry! Papa, I’m so sorry!”
“No, B. The fault is mine. In trying to protect you, I nearly forgot everything else important. I’m so sorry, girl.”
Papa was alive. Against all odds we’d saved him and destroyed Angelina. I sank into him, ready to sleep for days. The relief was overpowering. A knock sounded on the door before it swung open. Tiberius swaggered into the room, beard thin and patchy. His once full face now drooped with long lines and loose skin.
“Tiberius.” I pulled away from Papa. “Is everything all right? Chatham City? The West Guards? The Southern Covens? What’s happening? What time is it?”
The words tumbled off my lips so fast they jumbled together.
“The Central Network is fine. Well, as fine as it can be, I suppose. Calm down, reckless girl. Who are you anyway? Thinking you’re a man trying to save the world?” he snapped, but his gaze softened with a grudging admission. “Well … you did do damn good tonight getting our High Priest back.”
You don’t even know the horrible thing I’ve done.
“What happened?” Papa asked, putting a comforting hand on the back of my neck the way he used to. He searched my eyes. “Tell me why Isadora is with Mabel. How did you get me out of there? Why did you stay behind with Angelina?”
The burning pain I’d endured shot through my arms again. Like an echo, Miss Mabel’s haunted words bounced off the inner parts of my skull.
She left me.
“I don’t know why Isadora is with Mabel. It has something to do with Mabel’s plans or saving me or … I … I wasn’t really conscious for that part. I made a deal with Miss Mabel to have her transport you back and …”
I stumbled to a stop, tears filling my weary eyes. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to forget the agony of Miss Mabel’s mind. “Do I have to tell you everything now?”
“Yes,” Papa said, tucking a strand of hair away from my face. “We need to know now.”
Zane shuffled out of the shadows where he’d been standing, though I hadn’t seen him. Stella sat on a chair near Marten. They all stared at me, waiting.
A cup of tea rose from the tray and hovered in front of me. I glanced up to find Reeves nod from the corner. “A special tonic to help you, Miss Bianca,” he drawled. I gave him a half-hearted smile and accepted the cup. To my surprise, the tea did help. A wave of calm passed through me at once, and I allowed it to soothe my aching insides. Tiberius sat down and leaned his forearms on his knees.
With the tea to help, I did explain. I recounted every single thing I could remember, from when Angelina pulled me into the nightmare, to Isadora’s cottage, to Angelina’s defeat, but I left out the part when I glimpsed Miss Mabel’s mind. I still hadn’t processed it myself and didn’t know if I could bear
to live through it again.
They listened with quiet, stoic attention. The skin behind my left ear burned every time I mentioned the Almorran magic, and I idly put a hand to it to make it stop. Once I finished, Papa leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. Tiberius grunted. Sanna took another drink from her flask, and Zane kept his deadpan gaze on the floor.
“Did I ruin everything?” I asked, trembling. “Have I brought destruction down on all of Antebellum by releasing Miss Mabel?”
I’d been afraid to ask it, afraid to even say the words, but they poured out in terrified hysteria.
“No,” Sanna said, tossing her empty flask onto the table.
“But your sister—”
“Knew what she was doing. She knew all along what was going to happen. How do you think I knew where to be with the blue, eh?”
Sanna’s declaration still didn’t comfort me because it didn’t change the fact that Isadora was with the most dangerous, powerful witch in the world and likely wouldn’t make it back alive. Losing Isadora would cripple our ability to predict the West Guards.
“And Chatham City?” I asked.
“The Protectors and the gypsies managed to keep the Factios from taking over, thanks to Leda,” Stella said with a smile. “She saved the city yet again.”
“Leda?”
“She put her foresight to good use. Without her, we wouldn’t have been able to keep up with the Almorran magic. She predicted many attacks, which we were then able to preempt.”
“She’ll be impossible to live with after this.”
Marten laughed under his breath. “I believe she’s earned her place as an Assistant somewhere. Maybe we should give her your job, Bianca.”
I smirked but didn’t take the bait.
“It wasn’t until a few hours ago that the tide turned in our favor,” Zane said. “We were just about to lose everything when the Factios seemed to fall apart.”
I swallowed. “When Angelina died. It’s likely she was controlling them with Almorran magic, giving them power and strength. Without her, all of that would have left them.”
“The West Guards pushed halfway through the Western Covens before the Guardians intercepted them. We drove them back, then held them a short distance from the Borderlands,” Tiberius said with an annoyed huff. “Half-naked savages. You come into my Network?” he bellowed at the wall, fist raised.
“The Southern Network attacked, but without the West Guards to help, we held them at bay with magic without too much loss in the Southern Covens,” Stella said, anticipating my next question. She put a hand on my shoulder, and warmth passed through my body.
“So all is not lost?”
“Not yet,” Papa concluded grimly. “Not yet.”
Stella looked at Zane, Tiberius, Marten, and Sanna as she rose. “I think it’s time we give the two of you a minute to catch your breaths. The Network is under control for now. Derek, you need to sleep. I’ll take over from here.”
He grunted. “Fine.”
Stella squeezed my shoulder. “Thank you, Bianca,” she whispered. “For being so brave. Make sure he takes the potion on the table, will you?”
“If I don’t, Reeves will,” I said, taking another sip of the tea he’d provided. Reeves straightened with pride.
They shuffled out slowly, and Reeves moved into his own quarters. In their absence, only the silence of the apartment remained.
“I’m sorry about the situation with Merrick,” Papa said, rubbing his good hand over his stubbled chin. “After watching you fight Mabel last summer, I couldn’t handle the thought of you growing up. Of losing you.”
“Losing me to Merrick?” I asked.
He met my eyes. “To Merrick.”
“And now?” I asked, my heart speeding up to double time. “What do you think now?”
Papa scowled. “I think I don’t like the idea of any witch trying to win my daughter’s affections. But if it has to happen eventually, you can’t do any better than Merrick. Are you sure you want to court a Protector?”
I grinned ruefully. “Are you sure you’re not just afraid that Merrick is too much like you?”
“Oh, he’s definitely too much like me.”
I squeezed his good hand. “Which is just what I want. Thank you, Papa, for understanding. Where is Merrick now?”
Papa’s expression darkened. “I tried to send him on a special mission. Not to get rid of him, although there is that, but because he’s the only one that could do it.”
His words gave me pause. Merrick the only one? He was the youngest Protector. The least experienced. What kind of mission could it have been? “What do you mean you tried to send him on a mission?”
“He wouldn’t go until he knew you were safe.”
I smiled. “Really?”
Papa shoved my face gently with the palm of his good hand. “Don’t start getting all girly and romantic on me now. But, yes, really. He waited until you showed up with Sanna, then he left. He left this for you.”
He extracted a letter from his vest. I took it with an acute feeling of anticipation and disappointment, wanting nothing more than to see Merrick’s bright green eyes. I set the letter aside to read in private.
“What now, Papa? What happens to the Central Network now?”
“Now?” He brushed a strand of hair away from my eyes. “Now we fight Mabel. We try to save Isadora before it’s too late.”
“How will we know it’s too late?”
“Her life is tied to Sanna’s. If Sanna dies, Isadora has as well.”
“How are you going to save her?”
He sighed and leaned his head back on the divan. “If we can save her? I don’t know.”
Exhausted, I leaned back against the divan and closed my eyes. All the rest of it didn’t matter, not right then. Not for a while.
Because Papa was alive and so was I.
B,
I’m glad you’re alive, little troublemaker. Save time for a run when I return.
—M
Friends Forever
Tulips decorated every part of the field outside Sanna’s cottage.
I had taken Leda—with much coaxing—into Letum Wood to gather summer flowers for Michelle’s hand fasting early in the morning on the first day of the first month of summer. Priscilla and Camille had transformed the summer flowers into a variegated display of tulips, filling the field outside Sanna’s house with fresh, vibrant colors. Camille had decorated the little bridge over the brook with large yellow bows for the ceremony, tucking bouquets of flowers around them.
“A perfect way to celebrate the first day of summer,” Camille said, inhaling the sweet scent with a sigh. “Tulips and a hand fasting ceremony. You can tell which tulips Priscilla did because they actually smell like tulips. I’m still not that talented at transformation.”
“They’re lovely, Camille,” I said, touching the delicate skin of a petal. “I’m very proud of you.”
Camille smiled. “Thanks.”
The difficult experiences she’d endured in the past year had served Camille well; she’d lost some of her frantic, panicked energy. It almost made me want the other Camille back, but when I remembered all the mindless prattling, I banned the thought immediately.
“I’m going to go check on Michelle,” she said with a contented sigh, glancing at her work. “I’ll see you after the hand fasting.”
“Here,” Leda said, nudging me to the left. “Rupert saved us the last two seats. Jikes, this is a full ceremony.”
We settled into the back row. Shadows and shapes moved in the distant forest, accompanied by the occasional crash of a sapling falling or snort of smoke. Several visitors kept worried eyes on the forest, though we couldn’t actually see the dragons.
“What do you think?” Leda asked, leaning over in a whisper. She looked politically perfect with her hair in a bun and a modest dress that stretched all the way to her wrists. “Is Nicolas going to pass out?”
Nicolas fidgeted at the fron
t, shifting his weight from foot to foot, tugging at a tight collar that nearly choked him. The rest of the crowd murmured while waiting for Michelle to appear out of Sanna’s cottage. Because she had no mother to help her get ready, Camille and Priscilla saw to her ministrations inside.
I laughed. “If he sweats any more, he’s going to pass out from dehydration.”
Leda smirked and leaned back in her seat. Rupert sat at her side, hands as twitchy as a spider leg. I held my breath when he reached over and pressed his hand on top of Leda’s. She froze, eyes wide. I stared at their hands, and then her face, in disbelief. Even Rupert seemed to be holding his breath. After an interminable ten seconds, she relaxed but didn’t pull away. Rupert let out a long breath, the corner of his mouth curling up.
“Don’t read into it,” she hissed to me. “He’s just a friend.”
I rolled my eyes. “Give him some hope, Leda. Look how hard he’s worked to get your favor. He’s been fighting for you for almost a year.”
Leda eyed me in suspicion. “How come you sound so okay with it? I thought you didn’t want any of us to grow up.”
“I don’t.” I fidgeted with the elbow-length sleeve of my olive green dress. “I don’t want anything to change. At least, I didn’t for a long time.”
“Well, here you are at Michelle’s hand fasting ceremony, which means you must be okay with it at least a little.”
Things must move on, I thought. Or else I’ll become just like Miss Mabel.
“Miss Mabel held onto the past. She never really let it go, did she? Which means she was afraid to move forward. I don’t want to be like her.”
Leda quirked an eyebrow. “There are a lot of reasons you won’t be like her. The least of which is the fact that you aren’t trying to murder the entire world.”
I laughed, grateful for a moment of levity to break up the sudden string of dark thoughts in my mind. I still hadn’t told my friends about my encounter with Miss Mabel’s mind. It felt too personal to share, too raw to make real. The only witch I felt I could really tell was Merrick, and he still wasn’t back from his mission. How could I explain a pain of such depth to anyone who hadn’t experienced it? Could such an agony be overstated?