Plague of the Shattered

by E. E. Holmes

  Yeah, she sure as hell is, I said, my own pride in my sister glowing brightly.

  I turned to Savvy who had her ear pressed to the door, her long curtain of red hair draped across her face.

  “You’re in luck, Sav. She did it.”

  Savvy didn’t answer. She seemed very intent on continuing to listen at the door.

  “Sav, seriously, it’s okay,” I assured her. “Honestly, I don’t think you need to worry anymore. The moment for throwing projectiles has passed.”

  Savvy still did not answer. Her hand, pressed against the wood of the door, was tensely white-knuckled.

  “Savvy?” I asked again. Still, Savvy did not move, did not answer. I reached out and touched her shoulder. No response. My heart began to hammer.

  “Finn?” I said, and I was surprised at how steady my voice sounded even in my mounting panic. “Finn, something is wrong with Savvy.”

  “What are you on about?” Finn asked.

  But at that moment, through the connection, I watched Hannah stop stroking Frankie’s head. She looked up suddenly, staring around the room as though she had just heard a strange sound and wanted to find the source of it. Then she stood abruptly.

  “Jess? There’s one here!” she cried out. “A Shard! I just felt it! It’s really close!”

  “Hannah?” Frankie said tentatively “Who are you talking to?”

  But I didn’t hear Hannah’s reply. I was reaching a shaking hand out toward Savvy’s mane of hair, pulling it back from her face.

  Eyes stared back at me, deep and dark as caverns—eyes that had never before looked out of Savannah Todd’s face.

  “Savvy?” I breathed.

  “Who’s Savvy?” she whispered back.

  14

  Tryst and Trust

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE IT. I can’t believe that just happened,” Milo whispered.

  “She was right next to me. One moment she was Savvy, and the next…”

  I shuddered. Milo, Frankie, Hannah, and I sat together in a half circle around Frankie’s fireplace. A hollow, numb disbelief hung over us like a fog.

  “We were focused on the connection,” Milo said, sounding as though he’d like to take his own words and beat himself with them out of guilt. “Finn and Savvy both had all their attention on trying to hear what was happening through the door. Oh, sorry,” Milo added, realizing what he had said and addressing Frankie. “We didn’t want to spy on you or anything. We just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to start throwing shit at Hannah.”

  “It’s okay,” Frankie said, more loudly than she needed to. “I’ve been known to do that lately.” She was examining Milo with a half-fearful, half-fascinated expression. Now that she’d accepted what she was seeing, she’d been staring openly at Milo since he’d entered the room.

  “You don’t need to yell, sweetness. I’m dead, not deaf,” Milo said, causing Frankie to flush pink.

  “Sorry,” she said softly, and then turned to Hannah. “So, what exactly happened to Savannah? I didn’t really understand what that man was saying when he opened the door.

  As Hannah patiently explained about the Shards to Frankie, I continued to dwell on what had just happened. The moment I’d seen that stranger staring back at me from Savvy’s face, Finn had leapt into action. As he pulled Savvy tightly into a restraining hold, she hadn’t even resisted him. Maybe it was because there was no fire visible in the hallway, or perhaps because the Shard itself hadn’t yet acclimated to the new body it now possessed, but there was no struggle and no screaming, like we’d seen with the other Hosts. Savvy submitted quietly to the hands that grasped her. It wasn’t until Finn and Bertie were rounding the corner with her at the end of the hallway that she began to moan and cry pitifully, like a wounded animal.

  “But… I’ve kept my Gateway closed on purpose. Did… did I cause this? Did that spirit try to… to use me, but couldn’t get through?” Frankie asked, eyes wide in alarm.

  “No, no,” Hannah said in a soothing voice. “The Shattering originated with Catriona’s Gateway, which also happens to be sealed at the moment. You had nothing to do with it, although, it’s a good reason to keep the whole Gateway system open and working like it should.”

  “So, one of those things could infect any one of us, at any time?” Frankie asked. “Is this what it’s going to be like now? I thought you said I’d be able to move on with my life!”

  Hannah put a consoling hand on Frankie’s shoulder. “No, this is not how life is going to be. This is a very rare phenomenon that’s happening right now. Most of the Durupinen here have never even heard of a Shattered spirit before.”

  “Once you get your training, you can put this place in your rearview mirror and rarely look back,” I told Frankie.

  “You finished your training. Why are you back here?” Frankie asked.

  “Glutton for punishment,” I replied.

  “I need another cigarette,” Frankie muttered, and went to find herself one.

  “I never would have imagined Savvy falling victim like that,” I said, shaking my head sadly. “Honestly, I’d have thought any spirit who tried to get in there would have had one look around and think it wasn’t worth the trouble.”

  Milo laughed, a sharp short bark immediately swallowed by a sob. “I feel like such shit for not realizing it was happening.”

  “Me, too,” I said.

  “And me. Too little, too late,” Hannah said.

  We sat for a few more minutes in a numb sort of silence, until Frankie broke it with a polite little cough.

  “Excuse me, Hannah? Do you think you could show me where I could find Celeste? I need to talk to her about… about deciding that I’m ready to start learning.”

  Hannah looked up and managed a smile. “Of course. I can help you find her.”

  “I’ll come, too,” Milo said, rising from the chair. “I need some distraction. Jess?”

  I stood up as well. “You guys go ahead. I’m going to the hospital ward to see how Savvy is. I’ll check in with you both afterward.”

  “Do you think you should go by yourself?” Hannah asked anxiously.

  “Hannah, do you really think it matters? Savvy was infected while two Caomhnóir stood within two feet of her,” I said. “If I get infected on the way, I’m only two corridors from the hospital ward. I’ll just show myself in.”

  “That’s not funny,” Hannah said, scowling.

  “I know.” I said. “For once, I wasn’t trying to be cute.”

  §

  When I arrived outside the hospital wing, I found I was not alone in waiting for news. Róisín and Riley Lightfoot were both occupying the bench outside the ward, faces pale and drawn.

  “We saw them carry Savannah Todd past,” Róisín said as I walked over to them. “Your Caomhnóir was with her.”

  “Yeah, we were all with her when… it happened,” I said with a shiver. “I heard about your mom, too. I’m sorry.”

  Róisín nodded her appreciation. Riley kept her eyes locked on the floor.

  “How long have you been here?” I asked, taking a seat on the opposite bench.

  “Since breakfast. They told us there was no point, but…” Róisín shrugged helplessly.

  “I saw Patricia O’Toole being brought up here as well. Do you know… has anyone else been infected today?” I asked.

  Róisín shook her head. “No, not that I know of.”

  “Have… are Finn and Bertie still in there?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Róisín said. “I tried to follow them inside when they arrived, but the matron kicked me out.” She bit her lip. “They won’t tell us anything, but I can’t convince myself to leave.”

  “Hey,” I said, my voice gentle and thick with emotion. “You don’t need to leave. Even if they tell you to go, you stay, if that’s what makes you feel better. I’d be sitting right where you are, if that was my mom in there. Keep demanding answers. Be loud. Be persistent. You have every right to be here.”

  Róisín
smiled at me. I’d like to think she was going to thank me, but she never got the chance. The ward door opened at that moment and Finn stepped out, followed by Bertie and Mrs. Mistlemoore.

  “Hey,” I said, standing up at once. “This might be a stupid question, but I’m going to ask it anyway. How is Savvy?”

  “She’s a Host,” Mrs. Mistlemoore said. “So, for the moment, she is indistinguishable from the other Hosts in the ward.” She sounded utterly exhausted, and perhaps she realized it was dulling her bedside manner, because she shook her head and added. “I apologize. It’s been a very long couple of days.”

  “Don’t apologize, it’s okay,” I said quickly. “We’re just grateful you’re here to help them.”

  “I don’t know how much help I’m being, to be honest,” Mrs. Mistlemoore said.

  “I was just telling Mrs. Mistlemoore that you had a suggestion,” Finn jumped in.

  “I did?” I asked, confused.

  “Yes,” Finn said pointedly. “About the Hosts’ tendency toward writing?”

  “Oh, yeah!” I said. “We haven’t even had a chance to tell anyone yet. When we came by here earlier today, we saw that the Hosts were writing—or at least, pretending to write. Is that still true?”

  “Yes, it is,” Mrs. Mistlemoore said, a bit wearily. I could tell she was already skeptical of whatever it was I had to say, and I couldn’t really blame her. I’m sure she was getting all kinds of unsolicited advice.

  “Look, I have some experience with spirit-induced drawing,” I said. “As a Muse, it happens to me all the time. Sometimes it happens without warning, when I can’t control it, like in a trance or when I’m sleeping. I always keep paper taped to the walls around my bed and a stack of pencils on my bedside table, so I’m ready when it happens.”

  “What’s your point?” Mrs. Mistlemoore asked, pinching the bridge of her nose and rubbing her eyes. It was as though she were hardly listening. I took a deep breath and tried to swallow my frustration. It did not go down easy.

  “I just thought I’d suggest giving the Hosts a piece of paper and something to write with,” I said, and I was pleased to hear that my voice sounded calm. “It’s a very real possibility that the Shards are trying to communicate through drawing or writing. If they have the tools they need, they might actually give you a clue about who they are, and what they want.”

  Mrs. Mistlemoore blinked. She stared at me for a moment like I was crazy, and I prepared a defensive reply, but then she nodded. “I’ll consult the Scribes, to see if there is any precedent for this behavior amongst Shards, but that is an excellent suggestion, Miss Ballard. Thank you very much for sharing it with me.”

  I sighed with relief. “Sure. It might come to nothing, of course, but anything is worth a shot at this point, right?”

  “Right, indeed,” Mrs. Mistlemoore said. “I’m sorry if I’ve been short with you. It’s not only the Hosts that I’m concerned about, though they would be enough to exhaust anyone’s capacity for worry. The High Priestess has taken another turn for the worse.”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “Really?”

  Mrs. Mistlemoore shook her head, looking defeated. “I think she was holding on for the Airechtas. I think she wanted to oversee one last meeting, to ensure that all of the appropriate policies were in place and changes were made before she succumbed to this illness. But now that the Airechtas has been suspended indefinitely, her strength is fading fast. I’m just not sure how much longer she’ll be able to hold on, and I know she does not want to leave Fairhaven and her clans in such a state.”

  “Everyone in the castle is on the alert,” I said, trying to sound confident. “This Shattering might be scary, but it’s also moving very quickly. I’m sure we’ll be on the other side of it in a few days, and everything can proceed like it was supposed to.”

  “I do hope you’re right, my dear. I do hope so,” Mrs. Mistlemoore said, and she gave me a wan smile. “I’m going to consult with the Scribes and see if we can’t make some progress with your suggestion. Please excuse me.” With a quick gesture to all of us, she backed into the ward again and the door swung shut behind her.

  Finn nodded curtly at me. “Well done,” he said. “That may very well make a difference.”

  “I hope so,” I said.

  “It sounded like a good idea to me,” Róisín said. “We should be trying anything at this point, shouldn’t we?”

  Bertie, who was still standing just behind Finn, looked sadly deflated. “I don’t know what to do for the best,” he said. “ought I to stay here? To find Miss Phoebe? The Caomhnóir handbook was not at all clear in its instructions for handling this type of situation.”

  “There’s nothing you can do for Savannah here,” Finn said, closing his eyes in an attempt to control his annoyance. “She is under the constant supervision of the staff. Phoebe is the vulnerable one right now. You should focus your attentions on her in case she is the next to fall to a Shard.”

  Bertie nodded thoughtfully. “Hmm… yes, you make a fair point. The statute about preferential protection could be interpreted as such, and yet I question—”

  “Go. Phoebe. Now,” Finn said through gritted teeth.

  “Right-o,” Bertie muttered, his face blazing red as he scurried off.

  I took a breath that seemed to stagnate in my lungs. “I need to get out of here. Go for a walk. I feel like I’m suffocating in here.”

  Without saying goodbye to anyone, I turned and headed down the hallway, walking as quickly as I could.

  “Jess. Jess!” Finn was following at a jog. He caught up with me easily with his annoyingly long strides. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I just told you. For a walk,” I said without slowing down.

  “It’s December. It’s freezing outside. The Caomhnóir are guarding all the exits,” Finn reminded me.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’ll get my jacket. They aren’t forcing people to stay inside the castle, just inside the grounds.”

  “Even so—” Finn began, but I held up a hand.

  “Look, if you want to come with me, that’s fine,” I said. “But I’m going. I just… I can’t be inside this castle right now.”

  My voice broke with the last word, and I gave myself away. Finn must have heard it, because he didn’t argue with me again. He marched along silently beside me, waiting as I retrieved my coat from my room and then tailing me all the way down to the entrance hall. After a short, whispered exchange with one of the Caomhnóir guarding them, the great front doors swung reluctantly forward to release us into the night.

  §

  It was glorious, that fresh air. I drank it in, though it seared my lungs and made my eyes water. It felt clean, as though each breath of air in the castle was contaminated with fear, tainted with the possibility that, as you took it into your lungs, you were infecting yourself.

  I set out across the barren stretch of lawn, frosted blades of grass snapping under my feet. I didn’t know where I was going. I just wanted to put the castle behind me.

  “Jess,” Finn said, after a solid twenty minutes of walking. His voice sounded more like his real voice now, instead of the one he’d been using since we’d arrived here, the one that was layered over with indifference. I could have cried just hearing it, my name, spoken in that voice.

  “What?” I asked. I had to unclench my teeth to answer him, and now they wouldn’t stop chattering.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I don’t know. I just… I can’t be in there right now,” I said.

  “We can’t stay out here, though,” Finn said coaxingly. “We’re both going to freeze.”

  I wanted to argue with him, but I could barely feel my face. “Don’t make me go back in there,” I said, though I was not sure he heard me. A needling wind seemed to suck the words right out of my mouth and carry them off into the air.

  “I know a place where we can talk,” Finn said. “Follow me.”

  He surged past me and struck
out for the forest on the far side of the grounds. I followed him without asking where we were going, just so grateful that he wasn’t insisting on dragging me back to the castle. We entered the cover of the trees and struck out along a path I knew.

  “Finn? You do know where this path leads, don’t you?” I asked him, slowing to a stop.

  He turned and smiled reassuringly at me. “Don’t worry. We’re not following it to the end. There’s a turn off. Come on.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief and followed. This winding path ended in the ruins of the Fairhaven príosún, an ancient prison that once housed those who committed crimes against the Durupinen. All of those prisoners were long gone, of course, but their pain and anger and fear lived on in a dangerous creature called the Elemental. It lurked among the ruins, feeding on the negative emotions of any person unlucky enough to cross its path. I had come face to face with it twice, and I had absolutely no desire to do so again.

  As Finn had promised, a half-hidden fork in the path veered away from the príosún, and after a few more minutes of walking, a small stone hut loomed out of the darkness.

  “What is this?” I asked warily.

  “It used to be a sentinel checkpoint for Caomhnóir, back when Fairhaven was used as a battle ground,” Finn said. “I hid in it three years ago, when I snuck back onto the grounds after…” After he abandoned us at the Traveler camp. He didn’t want to say it, and I didn’t want to remember it, so neither of us bothered to complete the sentence out loud. “Now it’s just a ruin, like the príosún, left to rot. I found it while I was still a Novitiate. I used to come here to write, sometimes.”

  He pushed the door open and disappeared into the opening. After a few moments, a light flared, illuminating the interior. I walked forward and ducked inside.

  The hut only had one small room, perfectly circular, with two windows set into the stone walls. The light came from an ancient oil lamp hung on a hook. It smoked and sputtered, filling the place with a rich, waxy sort of smell. The flickering light revealed several straw mattresses heaped with blankets, a small table with two stools set under it, and a cast iron, pot-bellied stove with a pipe that ran up past the wooden rafters and disappeared into the thatch of the roof. Finn was already kneeling beside the stove, shoving logs through the door on the front. Before long, a fire blazed in the grate and the tiny space was filled with warmth that sent an aching feeling back into my extremities.