Plague of the Shattered

by E. E. Holmes

  Hannah shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I only know that it felt similar.”

  Savvy swallowed back something along with her dread. “That casting—whatever it was—was one of the most horrific things I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen some shit. Blimey, I hope that’s not what’s happened.”

  “Me, too,” Hannah said. “I never wanted to see anything like that again as long as I live.”

  The wait in the Council Room seemed to stretch on for hours. There was no clock on the walls, no way to check to see how long we’d been sitting there. I never wore a watch because I always used my phone as my clock, but no cell phones were permitted in the meetings, and so I’d left it reluctantly upstairs in our room. We alternated between periods of tense silence and waves of agitated whispering. There was no real reason for everyone to keep their voices down, but for some unspoken yet universally accepted reason, we all did, at least at first. But the longer the wait went on, the louder the conversational periods grew and the less cooperative people became with this mandate.

  Finally, Marion stood up and marched purposefully over to the Caomhnóir who were guarding the main entrance doors.

  “We cannot be kept here indefinitely. Open the doors. I’m going to find out what is happening,” Marion said, in the imperious tone she used so well.

  Seamus, who was also very masterful in his ability to assert his authority, did not even deign to look down at her as he answered. “We are under strict orders to keep everyone here while the situation is assessed.”

  “Well then, open this door at once so that I may assess the situation. It has been nearly two hours. We have been given no information. This lack of transparency is utterly unacceptable.”

  “I understand your frustration. I cannot disobey a direct order from a current member of the Council,” Seamus said through gritted teeth. He placed just the slightest emphasis on the word “current.” Marion did not miss it. She turned and called back to the room at large.

  “Is there a current member of the Council who can order this Caomhnóir to stand aside? I will not be kept here like a prisoner,” Marion demanded.

  Fiona stood up. “The current members of the Council are following protocol that is in everyone’s best interest. I don’t see any bloody chains on your ankles. Calm down with the theatrics before you get a formal citation for insubordination. That ought to fill your record out nicely. Now why don’t you get yourself a cuppa, sit down, and shut up like everyone else. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

  Everyone watched while Marion first formulated, then swallowed her biting reply. Then, with what dignity she could muster, she returned to her seat and sank slowly into it. Her entourage immediately pulled their heads together in a tight, expensively styled huddle.

  “Wow, she has a lot of nerve,” Hannah whispered to me, but I was completely distracted.

  “Cuppa? Did she say cuppa? As in coffee?”

  Hannah raised her eyebrows. “Well, no, she probably meant tea, but yes, there’s coffee. Right over there.” She pointed to a table in the back corner, hidden in the shadows of the balcony, where a row of silver coffee urns, tea pots, and plates of pastries had been set up. A few people from the back rows had already wandered over and were filling cups.

  “How long has that been there?” I cried in amazement.

  “About fifteen minutes. A couple of Caomhnóir brought it through that side door back there. You didn’t notice?”

  “No! I was too distracted contemplating the possible rise of our mortal enemies. Why didn’t you say anything? You know you have a moral obligation as my twin to alert me to the presence of caffeine!”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Hannah said sarcastically. “I was a little distracted contemplating the same thing. I didn’t really think coffee was a priority.”

  “Coffee is always a priority!” I hissed, and stalked up the aisle. Okay, so I was being a bit more dramatic than the situation warranted, but my nerves were frayed and my stomach had been snarling angrily at me for the last hour, since I had been too shaken up by my meeting with Catriona to eat much lunch.

  I snatched a little white teacup from the stack, lamenting silently to myself how little coffee it would hold, and placed it beneath the nearest spout to fill it.

  “Well, well, well, Miss Ballard. We meet again.”

  I didn’t even need to turn around to know who was speaking. In fact, in the interest of avoiding physical violence, I chose not to look. It would be easier to control myself if I didn’t have to look Marion in the face.

  “Wow, you should really write dialogue for comic book villains,” I said. I picked up a muffin and offered it to her over my shoulder. “High-calorie baked good?”

  “No, thank you,” she said, almost pleasantly.

  “Oh, that’s right, you can’t Leech the extra calories away anymore, can you? I guess you’ll just have to work out like the rest of us. I hear Zumba is a good time.”

  “My, my, insults and sarcasm right out of the gate, then? I take it from your insolent tone that you have no interest in mending fences,” Marion said.

  I laughed and turned, looking at her for the first time. “Mending fences? You can’t mend a fence that the other person has burned to the ground. And I highly doubt that you have any genuine interest in mending anything, except your own reputation.”

  “I’m sorry to hear you feel that way,” Marion said, with a sanctimonious little sigh. “I did approach you in the hopes that we might put our past disagreements behind us. You clearly do not feel the same way.”

  “I’m not a fool,” I said bluntly. “How adorable that you think ‘disagreement’ is the appropriate word choice for your singular vendetta against me and my sister. From the moment we walked in the door here, you made it your mission to kick us right back out of it. I’m not interested in putting anything behind me, and I never will be.”

  “I’m disappointed in your attitude, Jessica,” Marion said. “I had thought that the passage of a few years might have tempered your rashness with a bit of maturity. Evidently I was wrong.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m just as rash and immature as ever,” I said, with a huge grin. “So, good luck picking up the shattered remains of your reputation for the rest of the week. It’s a big job, but I’m sure you can find your dignity around here somewhere.” I indicated the floor of the Council Room with my coffee-free hand.

  “The dignity of my clan far outstrips any personal decisions I may have made three years ago. I’m here to remind the Council of that fact,” Marion said stonily.

  “It’s too bad you didn’t take that attitude three years ago, when you crucified Hannah and me for my mother’s decisions. In fact, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think tearing down an entire clan because of one person’s mistakes is how you clawed your way into a Council seat in the first place. I don’t know what ulterior motive you have coming over here and trying to make nice with me, but whatever it is, just forget it. I’m not interested.”

  I watched with satisfaction as the remainder of the smile slipped from Marion’s face. She considered me for a moment, her expression shrewd. “I have heard from a very reliable source that Finvarra is going to nominate you for a Council seat.”

  I tried not to let the shock show on my face, but I don’t think I was successful; Marion looked too smug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said when I’d recovered.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Miss Ballard. You aren’t that good of an actress,” she replied. “How long have you known about Finvarra’s intentions?”

  I glared at her for a long moment, but couldn’t come up with a good reason not to answer the question, other than spite. “Not long. Two days.”

  Marion looked surprised. “Really? After you arrived? You meant to tell me that her offer had nothing to do with the reason you got on a plane to come here?”

  “Not at all,” I said coldly. “Not everyone drools at the scent of power, Marion.”

&nb
sp; “The world is full of fools,” Marion replied with a casual shrug. “So, you did not know she was going to nominate you?”

  “No.”

  “Well, then. Now that you know, what are your intentions?” she asked.

  “My intentions? For what?” I asked. I knocked back my cup of scalding coffee like a shot and turned for another.

  “For the seat. Do you intend to accept the nomination?”

  I did not answer right away, choosing instead to fill my teacup all the way to the brim. As I did so, I looked up and saw Finn. He was staring at me, and the question behind his eyes could not have been clearer. Are you okay? Do you need help?

  I discreetly shook my head and gave him a tiny smile. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.

  I turned back to Marion, who seemed too intent on my impending answer to have noticed anything. “We haven’t decided yet,” I said, choosing to tell her the truth, though she did not deserve it.

  Marion laughed incredulously. “You expect me to believe that? That you have made no decision in two days as to whether you will run for one of the most powerful positions in the Durupinen leadership?”

  “I couldn’t care less whether you believe it or not,” I said. I took another long sip of coffee to cover my racing thoughts. Where was Marion headed with this? What was her endgame? Why was this any of her business? “You asked me a question and I told you the truth. We haven’t decided.”

  “Well, I have a piece of truth for you as well, my dear. I came over here to offer you a bit of advice,” she said, pressing her hands together in a demure little steeple.

  I burst out laughing. The sound echoed around the quiet hall, and several people turned to stare.

  “What is so funny?” Marion hissed, barely moving her lips. It was clear she did not want any additional attention drawn to our conversation.

  “Why do you think I would ever care about or accept your advice? Because it served me so well in the past? Because I value your opinion?” I said, through still more laughter.

  Marion took a step toward me and leaned in. It was a power play, but I did not back down. “You may be snarky and impudent, Miss Ballard, but you certainly are not stupid. You’ve seen how the people here have responded to your presence. They are wary. They are mistrustful. Some are even downright terrified. A grab for power now would only bring more mistrust down upon you. You will be met with a truly unpleasant backlash. People will fight, tooth and nail, to ensure your family does not reclaim that seat.”

  “And by ‘people’ I can only assume you are referring to yourself?” I asked coolly.

  Marion ignored my question but for a small smile. “I am warning you. Accept that nomination and you will throw these proceedings into chaos. Our clans are still healing. After the Prophecy, we need stability. We need order. It would be in everyone’s best interests if you and your sister sank back into obscurity where you belong.”

  My blood was pounding in my ears. I leaned in so that our faces were only a few inches apart. I could see the particles of her make-up clinging to her skin. “Never dare tell me where we do or do not belong,” I hissed at her. Then I stepped back, refilled my coffee and addressed her in a friendly, conversational tone again. “You seem to have gotten a bit off-track with your super-villain speech. Please allow me to assist. This is where you launch into the part about how you would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for those meddlesome kids. Thanks for the advice, but next time, save it for somebody else, Marion. Or, better yet, keep it to yourself. No one who knows you will swallow a single line of whatever bullshit you’re peddling this week. I’ll see to that personally.”

  I walked away from her as confidently as I could, but my hands were shaking with rage. So, this was why she was really here. Sure, she wanted to try to get her family back in the Council’s good graces, but this was the real reason for her sudden appearance at the Airechtas: to stop Hannah and me from getting that Council seat.

  Hannah watched me approach, her face pale and worried.

  “What happened? What did Marion say to you? You look furious,” she said as I sat back down in my seat.

  Keeping my voice low, so that neighboring Durupinen wouldn’t overhear us, I started relaying to her what Marion had said. With every word of it, Hannah’s wide eyes narrowed.

  “That’s why she’s here. We are the ‘sudden emergency’ that meant she had to personally represent her clan this week,” she murmured.

  “Yup,” I said. “Someone else could have presented that request to the High Council. In fact, it probably would have gone over better if Peyton or someone were here instead. No, she wanted to be here to argue against any chance we might have to get that seat.”

  “Who do you think told her about the nomination?” Hannah asked. She looked around the room as though expecting the culprit to raise her hand. “I can’t imagine Finvarra let many people know about it.”

  “Does it really matter? It was probably one of her friends still on the Council. You know she still has allies here, even if she’s been booted out of her seat. Do you remember all the signatures she collected to remove Finvarra as High Priestess? Most of those women are still sitting up there right now.”

  “She wanted you to say that we weren’t going to accept the nomination?”

  “Yeah. Then she threatened that things would get ugly if we did accept it.”

  “And what did you say?” Hannah asked.

  “I told her that we hadn’t decided yet, but we weren’t going to be intimidated into refusing it.” I said.

  “Really?’ Hannah asked, one eyebrow raised. “We haven’t decided yet?”

  “Well, we haven’t,” I said, a bit defensively.

  “I know I haven’t. I was sort of under the impression you had, though.”

  I shrugged noncommittally. “I told you I would think about it, and I am. Besides, I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing I don’t really want it. If it gives her even a minute of disquiet thinking we’re going to take that seat back, then it’s worth it.”

  Even as I looked down at my coffee to take another sip, I felt Hannah’s eyes on me, probing me with an intensity that felt like an X-ray. Luckily, Savvy chose that moment to jump into the conversation, so I was spared more questions.

  “What a hideous old harpy she is,” Savvy said, glaring over at Marion, who had returned to her seat with a cup of tea. “Can you believe the nerve of her, even talking to you after what she’s done? I’ve got a mind to walk right over there and offer her a few choice words of my own.”

  “Don’t, Sav,” Hannah said quickly. “You’ll only make it worse.”

  “She already got an earful from me,” I said. “Trust me, it didn’t make a difference.”

  At that moment, the main doors swung open and Celeste swept up the aisle. Her face, though a mask of calm and poise, was very pale. I felt my pulse starting to race. Savvy jumped down off of the table and scurried back across the aisle to her seat. Around us, many other Durupinen were scrambling back to their own places, looking flustered.

  Celeste mounted the platform and planted herself behind the podium. “May I have everyone’s attention, please?” she said, although she didn’t need to; silence had fallen and every eye had been upon her from the moment she stepped through the door.

  “I am sorry to have kept you all waiting for so long, but I wanted to make absolutely sure I had answers for you before returning here. I have some distressing news to report. Before I explain what is happening, however, I need your promise to listen calmly and to follow instructions. Panic and hysteria will only exacerbate the seriousness of the situation. Please remain in your seats and listen to what I must tell you, and I will take questions in an orderly fashion after I have finished.”

  I looked at Hannah. She looked at me. And through our connection, a single word hovered like a specter of nightmares past.

  Necromancers.

  11

  The Shattering

  PANIC
WAS RISING INSIDE ME, threatening to submerge me. It was the Necromancers, it had to be. Why else would Celeste be talking to us like this, using words like “panic” and “hysteria”? Beside me, Hannah was visibly trembling. I slipped my arm through hers and pulled her in close to me. She snatched my hand and threaded her fingers through mine, grasping them tightly. We did not look at each other, but kept our eyes fixed firmly on Celeste, waiting for the bomb to drop.

  “Siobhán has been taken to the hospital wing and has been examined by Mrs. Mistlemoore. The hospital staff have concluded that Siobhán and Catriona’s afflictions are linked. They are both victims of a Shattered spirit.”

  A terrified whisper rippled through the room. A few people cried out, but were quickly shushed by their neighbors. I looked over at Hannah, my confusion all over my face, but she shook her head, looking as perplexed as I felt. We returned our gazes to Celeste.

  “Please indulge me for a moment as I explain this phenomenon to those among us who have never encountered it,” Celeste went on, and the authority in her tone quieted the rest of the whispering. “Sometimes a spirit, in its confusion, will be drawn to a Gateway without realizing that it is closed. It will sense the presence of the Aether, but it will not recognize the barrier standing in its way. Desperate to Cross, it will try to force entry.”

  Amid a fresh wave of frightened murmurs, a vivid memory flashed through my head. A hooded and malevolent spirit in a darkened library bathroom, trying to force his way through a Gateway—my Gateway—that had not yet been opened. It was the most invasively painful experience of my life, and occasional nightmares about it still left me panting and shaking, drenched in a cold sweat.

  Celeste’s voice cut cleanly through my thoughts, bringing me back to reality. “Most of the time, the intense pain of the attempt will deter a spirit from trying again. However, once in a great while, a spirit will be desperate enough that it will persist in its attempts until at last, the spirit breaks itself apart.”