by E. Latimer
“There won’t be any tea left, dummy. It’ll all have gone off by now,” Eliza said.
Emma edged closer to Edgar. He’d pulled his leather notebook out of his bag and was writing furiously, his face scrunched in concentration.
“Are you…writing your poetry?”
He nodded once and continued scribbling, and Emma leaned over to peer into his pack. There were a couple more leather-bound books—volumes of poetry, his nursemaid had said—and a flat leather pocketbook with brass corners, about the size of a wallet.
“What’s this thing?”
Edgar glanced up briefly and shrugged. “Whatever Georgie put in there. Take it out if you like.”
Emma pulled the pocketbook out and placed it carefully on her knee. A monogrammed Black decorated the front. When she opened it, she had the unpleasant shock of finding the queen’s face staring out at her. “Oh, ugh. Georgie’s given you a poster of your mother.”
Edgar lowered his book and glanced over, frowning. “What? Why would she do that?”
Eliza and Maddie had stopped their own conversation to listen, and Maddie cleared her throat and said, “Maybe Georgie didn’t know about the room under the castle and the…well, you know.”
Edgar grimaced down at the picture. “Throw it away.”
Emma hesitated. The poster was unpleasant, of course, but it was the picture on the other side that drew her attention. It was Alexandria and Isolde, both of them much younger. In the black-and-white photo, they were standing side by side, wearing modest walking dresses. She’d never seen her mother looking so…plain before. Isolde was smiling at the camera, and for once she looked almost happy. She wore her hair loose, in ringlets around her shoulders, instead of the elaborate updo she usually preferred. Emma stared down at the photo, annoyed to find herself suddenly blinking back tears.
She still remembered it so clearly, the day Edgar had told on her: Isolde launching herself at the witch hunters, pushing them away from nine-year-old Emma. Even yelling at her beloved sister, protecting her daughter from the queen, of all people.
Isolde had defended her so fiercely that day.
They hadn’t loved one another, exactly, but they were still family.
“I don’t think she wants to throw it away.”
It was Eliza who had spoken, and when Emma looked up, she found her staring, dark brows raised. “Emma, I know you don’t want to admit that your mother knew, but…I think they both did. Keeping the photo, well…I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
A surge of irritation hit her, and Emma bit back a reply. Of course Eliza would think that. Eliza hated the Black family. But her mother? Well, her mother was prissy and foolish and in need of constant attention, and she idolized her sister far more than was healthy, but she wasn’t a monster, not like the queen was.
She couldn’t have known.
Emma didn’t want to argue, so she just shrugged and shoved the pocketbook back into the bag. “It’s fine. I just…we won’t look at it.”
Eliza looked like she wanted to say something else, but she pressed her lips together tightly instead. Maddie cleared her throat, and opened her mouth as if to speak, but before she could get a word out, there was a rustling from somewhere behind them, and Emma jumped, turning back to scan the forest, heart hammering in her chest.
Had the witch hunter snuck up on them? She hadn’t heard his heart this time.
The space between the tree trunks was clear; nothing moved. But when she glanced up toward the treetops, she could make out several black shapes fluttering in the trees.
More ravens.
She glanced sideways at Edgar, wondering if he realized that more and more were arriving. He couldn’t just ignore the power. That wasn’t the way things worked. At least, she assumed it wasn’t.
Normally, she would have told herself it wasn’t any of her business, but the fluttering shadows overhead made her nervous. She folded her legs beneath her and tried to shift on the bank to get more comfortable. Should she point it out? Or would that just make his anxiety worse, and end up attracting more? It really was a lose-lose situation.
“If we could just find the cat again,” Maddie was saying now, “we could get out of this place.”
Eliza sat up a little straighter. “Emma, use your power. Can you hear it right now? Is it close by?”
Both Emma and Edgar gaped at her, and Eliza shrugged. “What?”
“She’s not going to just use her power,” Edgar said scornfully, though Emma thought she could detect an undercurrent of fear in his tone, and it made her stomach turn. “Not on purpose.”
Eliza frowned at him. “Your power is there for a reason: to help you.”
She said this so matter-of-factly that it sent a flash of annoyance through Emma. “Want to know what my power does?” she asked, a bite in her tone. “It stops people’s hearts. If that isn’t evil magic, I don’t know what is.” As soon as the words came out, she snapped her mouth shut, wishing she hadn’t said anything. Edgar visibly blanched, and even Maddie winced a little. Eliza shook her head.
“Growing up, I was taught that magic is never inherently evil. It’s not good or bad, any more than a carpenter’s hammer is. It’s a tool designed to help you. You specifically.”
“Of course you were taught it’s not evil,” Edgar shot back. “You were raised by witches.”
“And you were raised by her,” Eliza said, though this time, her voice didn’t hold as much heat, and Edgar sagged a little, his face uncertain.
There was no arguing with that. If anyone was evil, it was the queen.
Emma glanced over at Edgar, who met her eyes and shrugged.
She stared out at the lake, her mind working furiously. What Eliza was saying might be true for her, but Emma’s power was undeniably destructive. She’d stopped Edgar’s heart back at court, the night of the hearings. And before that? Well, her mother had never put two and two together. She hadn’t realized her heart had nearly given out during one of their screaming matches because of Emma. She’d blamed it on getting too worked up, on not eating enough that day, but Emma had felt it. She’d heard the erratic pulse stutter to a stop, seen her mother’s face go pale and shocked, and Emma had known it was her doing.
And for one horrible moment, she’d almost been glad. She’d hoped this would be the end. That her mother would never scream at her again.
But then she’d stumbled back, horrified at herself, slamming the door on her power, forcing it into that still, small space at the back of her mind, where it couldn’t hurt anyone.
Maybe her power wasn’t evil, but in that moment, Emma almost had been.
“Do you think I’m evil?” Eliza tilted her head, smiling at her, and Emma shook her head, a little astonished at the question.
“Of course not!”
“Well then, maybe it’s time you accept that you were lied to about a lot of things. You’re a witch, Emma. That doesn’t make you bad.”
Emma pursed her lips and stared at Eliza, her mind frantically trying to keep up. It was going to take more than one day to shake off years of learning, of course, but much of what she’d been taught had already been proven a lie. That all witches were wicked and murderous, that Lenore Black was dead, that Witch City was a lie…
None of it was true.
When Eliza spoke again, her voice was sympathetic. “I know it’s hard. You know what my coven told me whenever I’d struggle? Trust your magic. Yours has helped you, hasn’t it?”
It had. The power had led Emma to Maddie when she’d first arrived in this strange place, and it had warned her about the monster coming too. Reluctantly, she nodded.
“Trust your magic, Emma.”
That made it seem so easy, like her power was only good. Like it didn’t come with the very real possibility of hurting someone. Of killing them.
She si
ghed. “I guess we should keep going.”
Thankfully, Eliza didn’t push the subject.
They made their way slowly back up the slope, heading for the edge of the forest. Emma was in the lead with Maddie, with Edgar and Eliza just behind. She furiously chewed the inside of her cheek, thoughts whirring around her head. It wasn’t so hard to believe that magic wasn’t evil, but behaving that way was another thing altogether. A fear of witches—and of magic, in turn—had been drilled into her since birth. It was hard to shake that off, even though she’d started to see the truth.
She turned to Eliza to say as much, but when her eyes locked on Eliza’s face, she saw something change. Eliza’s expression shifted. A split second before it happened, her eyes went wide and dreamy and her gaze changed focus, as if she were looking at something beyond Emma. A smile began to curl one corner of her mouth.
The words shriveled on Emma’s tongue. She knew, suddenly, that something was about to happen. Something big. Something that would change everything.
There was no noise, nothing to warn them. Eliza was simply there one second, and the next she was gone. There was nothing in the space where she’d been standing but the tall grass waving in the breeze.
Emma stumbled mid-step, nearly pitching forward in her shock, and Maddie turned to her, frowning. “Emma, what—?”
“Where is she?” Emma stared at the empty space where Eliza had been, her confusion slowly leaking away, only to be replaced by horror.
Edgar spluttered and pointed at the grass, his hand trembling wildly. “She was here…she was just—”
“Eliza!” Emma turned on the spot. Her voice sounded high and thin, caught by the wind and carried away. There was no reply, only the rustle of grass and the distant call of birds in the trees overhead. “Eliza?”
“Eliza? Eliza!” Maddie had caught on now, and her expression was twisted in fear. “She was right here. I just saw her.”
All three of them jumped at the sharp cry of a bird overhead, and Emma glanced up, panic making her breaths shallow and sharp. There were more ravens circling above them now. There had to be nearly twenty.
When Emma turned back to her friends, Edgar was hunched over and breathing hard. He clutched at the front of his shirt, white-knuckled, as if he could somehow anchor himself to keep from dissolving into nothing.
“Where did she go?” Maddie kept whispering. “Where is she?”
Emma didn’t have an answer, but before she could even begin to think about what to say, she was distracted by the sudden sound of rustling, loud and persistent, in the treetops above her. She glanced up again, and then promptly wished she hadn’t.
In the dim light, she could make out more black shapes winging their way overhead, settling into the branches above them. They were collecting impossibly fast now, forming rows and rows of hunched silhouettes along every branch.
The trees above them were filling with ravens.
There were so many that in minutes the tallest trees had begun to droop under their weight. And they were stirring restlessly, as if they were growing impatient.
Beside Emma, Maddie must have noticed the same thing. She’d tipped her head back to stare up at the trees and now said, her voice shaky, “Edgar, make them go.”
“She was there, and then…gone.” Edgar’s voice was muffled—no surprise, given that he was hunched over, staring at his shoes. His entire body seemed to be shaking, and Emma realized with a pang of horror that the ravens seemed to be reacting to his emotions. The fluttering and croaking above them continued, rising in volume.
Maddie grimaced. “Why are they doing that? Are they going to attack us? Edgar, make them stop.”
“I think he’s panicking.” Emma could hear the noise of the birds growing louder above them, but her gaze was fixed on Edgar. She crouched down to peer into his face, alarmed to see he was sheet white and swaying slightly on the spot. “Uh, I think he’s going to pass out.”
It was odd to see Edgar this way. He was usually blustering or stammering orders; even when the monster had grabbed his coat, he’d yelled at it. Up until this point, fear had seemed to increase the bossy prince act. This, though, was new, and Emma wasn’t sure how to help him. A lump rose in her throat, and she felt a stab of panic herself.
“Ed?”
He didn’t answer. He just breathed faster, swaying forward again. Emma braced herself in case she had to catch him. “Edgar, calm down. It’s alright.”
“Make…them…go.” He was panting and shuddering, his face buried in his hands, as if he couldn’t bear to look up and see the birds.
Above them, the ravens whipped upward in an angry black tornado—a surging, swirling tower of wicked beaks and razor-sharp talons. A few dropped down, swooping over their heads, and Emma ducked and raised her hands over her head, fear juddering through her bones.
“Edgar. They’re just birds. You can send them away.” She tried to keep the fear out of her voice, but she couldn’t help flinching when she glanced up.
Edgar didn’t respond; he rocked back and forth in silence, his chest rising and falling quickly. Emma could guess what he was going through right now: first, the panic over Eliza disappearing, and then the birds appearing—a clear sign of his magic. It was all too much for him.
“This is ridiculous.” Maddie’s voice wobbled, but she clenched her fists and stomped forward. Seizing Edgar by the shoulders, she wrenched him upright.
Emma started. “Maddie, wait, I don’t think that’s a good id—”
“Edgar Black, you are not afraid!”
Edgar stiffened.
For a moment he stayed very still and continued to stare straight ahead, eyes fixed on Maddie’s face. He said nothing for a full second, and then, abruptly, he snapped to attention.
“You know, I say we look for that witch hunter chap. He’s got some nerve following us around.”
Emma stood stock-still, mouth open, as Edgar began circling the nearest trees, as if he expected the witch hunter to be spying on them from behind one. For a minute or two, neither she nor Maddie said a word; they both just watched, stunned, as he hunted around the tree trunks.
At last, Maddie broke the silence. “Well, that solves that, doesn’t it?” she said with a wide grin.
With a start, Emma realized what had happened. Edgar’s transformation hadn’t just looked like magic—it was exactly that. It was like The Testing all over again, only now instead of Maddie using her power of persuasion against the nurses she had used it on Edgar.
Maddie had already taken a step to follow Edgar, but Emma seized her arm and yanked her back, anger boiling in her gut.
“What are you thinking?” she hissed.
Maddie tugged her arm away, giving the treetops a pointed glance. “Look.”
There was a great stirring in the branches above, one Emma hadn’t noticed in her distraction. The ravens were leaving, flying up into the air in a steady stream of black. Emma stood still for a moment, watching them as they headed away from the forest, growing smaller and smaller in the distance. She couldn’t help but feel a trickle of relief in spite of her anger.
“Whatever they were going to do, I just saved us from it.” Maddie smiled. “And my magic worked perfectly for once.”
Edgar was marching around a particularly wide oak tree now, grinning hugely; it was an expression that looked eerily out of place on him. “I miss Eliza. And Georgie. I even miss my birds. Where are they going?” He tipped his head back and yelled at the treetops, “Hello. Birds?”
“Put him right,” Emma growled. “You’ve changed his entire personality!”
Maddie’s smile slid. “I can’t unlie—that’s not how it works. It will wear off eventually. It always does.”
“You shouldn’t have done it in the first place.” Emma glared at her. “That’s like…taking away his free will.”
“More like taking away our chance of getting attacked by birds.” Maddie scowled.
Unbelievable. She was completely unrepentant. “You can’t just go around putting spells on people!”
“He’ll be fine.” Maddie’s voice was sullen.
“Clearly not.” Emma turned to wave a hand at Edward. “He’s—”
Gone.
Edgar had been standing beside the big oak, and now he wasn’t. There was no one under the tree.
Emma whirled around, her pulse kicking into a gallop. There was no one else in the clearing with them. He was not standing at the edge of the forest, and his leather bag was sitting at the base of one of the trees, slumped over, the top hanging open. He’d left his poetry behind.
Edgar was gone.
“Edgar?”
Emma’s breath caught in her throat as she looked around the empty space. Again. She couldn’t believe this was happening again. She kept hoping that Edgar would step out from behind a tree. The afternoon sun streaming down through the leaves cast flickering shadows that stretched between the branches and the forest floor, painting Maddie’s wide-eyed face in orange and black.
“He’s gone.”
Emma’s hand flew to her mouth as she stared helplessly at the forest around them. Edgar had vanished when they were arguing. Had he gone the same way Eliza had, just disappearing into nothing?
“Oh.” Maddie’s face was pale, her hand pressed to her lips. “Did he…is he…?”
She couldn’t seem to say it.
And then Emma spotted it, a scuffed patch of dirt on the edge of the clearing. She crept closer, holding her breath. Sure enough, a couple of shallow imprints could be seen in the earth, footprints leading into the woods.
“He’s not gone.” The words left her in a rush of relief. “He’s just wandered off.”
“To find the witch hunter,” Maddie said, her voice slightly shaky, and Emma realized just how much trouble they were in.
“We’ve got to find him.”