Rising Silver Mist

by Olivia Wildenstein

  “What happened this afternoon, Catori?”

  My father never used my full name. Never.

  “What was this talk of dust? Why did Stella want to kill you? Why did she want to kill me?” He rubbed his throat as though he felt the darned wound, but could he? Was it like a phantom wound?

  “Dad, remember Ley’s letter? Do you remember what it spoke about?”

  His gaze shuffled over my face.

  “The letter she wrote to her sister? The one about pahans and a baseetogan?”

  I nodded.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, Stella was part pahan. Part faerie,” I added, in case he couldn’t remember the meaning of the Gottwa word.

  “Faerie? Faerie!” A vein popped feverishly at his temple. “Faerie?”

  I nodded again. “And so am I…” I murmured. “So was Mom.”

  “You…? Nova…?” Like windshield wipers, his lids swept up and down. Unlike windshield wipers, they did nothing to clear his mounting incredulity. “Faeries?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like Tinkerbell?”

  I smiled. I remembered that had been my reference the first time I was told about faeries. “A little like her.”

  “You can fly?”

  “No. I mean, I can’t. But faeries can.”

  Dad wrinkled his nose and then he squeezed the sides of his face. “Are you on something? Are you taking drugs? Is that why you got a tattoo?”

  I flinched. “No.”

  He tossed his hands up in the air. “You are not making any sense.”

  Cruz had returned. And he wasn’t alone. Kajika stood next to him, chest heaving with rapid breaths, black hair slick with rain.

  I turned to them, swallowing hard. “Kajika, I need you to wipe his mind.”

  “Wipe whose mind?” Dad asked.

  The hunter’s gaze ground into mine, and then it swept over the flooded kitchen. “Have you tried already, Catori?”

  “No.” Perhaps I should have, but I didn’t feel like messing with my father’s mind. Already, I’d lassoed a foreign force and wielded it without understanding what I was doing.

  And then there was the dust.

  I’d tasted it, smelled it. It had leaked from my skin and asphyxiated its owner. I had no idea how I’d done that.

  “Erase everything from the moment he got out of his car.”

  “Are you talking about me?” Dad yelled, pushing away from the island. He gripped my shoulders and shook me. It wasn’t gentle, but I didn’t hold it against him. He was angry and confused. He had every right to be.

  I placed my hands over his. “I wish you could keep all the things I told you. I so wish you could know everything that I know, but it will ruin your life. I don’t want to ruin your life.”

  Dad stopped shaking me. He just stared down at me. His mouth opened, but he made no sound.

  “Look at Kajika, Dad.”

  He stared at the hunter.

  “You will change your clothes and then return to your car,” Kajika started, his voice smooth and steady. “You will drive back to Bee’s Place, where you will have dinner. When you come home tonight, you will have no memory of what transpired in your house. You will not recollect your discussion with your daughter. You will not remember seeing Stella Sakar.”

  Dad was as rigid as a totem pole, his eyes blank slates like Stella’s had been in the last moments of her life. I shuddered at the memory.

  Kajika’s eyes gleamed like cut topaz to cement his influence.

  I held my breath.

  Without blinking, without looking at me, Dad walked past me, crossed the living room, and exited the house.

  Once I heard the hearse’s engine rumble, I dared breathe again.

  Kajika stared at the water rippling around my ankles and then he stared at the tattoo of dust wreathing my neck. “Cruz said you killed the pahan…”

  I nodded.

  “Then why does your body still hold her dust?”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered, wiping my chilled cheeks. “I don’t know.”

  Cruz crouched and laid his palms against the liquid surface. Slowly, steam rose, and the level of water dropped and dropped until there wasn’t a puddle left. The flames hissed and sputtered as they burned away the moisture.

  Kajika watched him work.

  “Maybe it’ll go away tonight,” I said as Cruz stood up.

  “The dust disappears the moment the pahan disappears. If Stella has died, then you should not still possess her dust.”

  Cruz folded his arms, his leather jacket creaking. “I have a theory. Since Catori used the dust to kill Stella, perhaps the dust belongs to her now.”

  “You manipulated the fae’s dust?” Kajika asked.

  “I… I…” Had I? Or had Cruz used his dust?

  “She did,” Cruz replied. “I saw it rise out of her.”

  Astonishment spangled the hunter’s face. “You can control gassen?”

  I rubbed the synthetic hem of my sports top between my fingers. Could I?

  “Did you steep this kitchen in water?” Kajika asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You can manipulate gassen and water?” It didn’t sound like a question. It was something else. Something dangerous and strange.

  Amazement?

  I pressed three fingers to my lips to calm my nerves. I couldn’t think of this now. “Is she all gone, Cruz?” I checked the tiles that sparkled as though they’d been scoured and mopped with Clorox.

  “Your kitchen is clean.”

  I loosed a sigh, let my fingers drop. “Thank you. Both of you, thank you. I know I owe you, Cruz.” The faerie flicked his eyes to his black boots, as though he was embarrassed. I remembered owing Ace once. He’d asked me for my pillow. Once I’d handed it over, I no longer owed him anything. Perhaps Cruz could also ask for something trivial. “But I owe you too, Kajika.”

  “You do not owe me anything. Hunters do not strike bargains. We are not faeries.” His words were as prickly as the thorns on the rose liana that had grown from Holly’s ashes. “But I would like us to train tomorrow. I want to work on your mind’s power, Catori. You must learn to harness it.”

  “I don’t know, Kajika.”

  The hunter stepped close and laid his palms on my shoulders. “Power without control is as useless as a rifle without a bullet.”

  I still itched to tell him no, that I needed to recover from today, but because I felt like I owed him, I accepted.

  He lifted his hands. “I must go home, but I will return tomorrow.”

  After he left, I bit the inside of my cheek.

  “Cozying up to the hunter again?” Cruz asked, studying me.

  “No. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  Cruz’s lips flattened. “Do you need anything else, or may I go check on my fiancée?”

  “How many gajoïs do I owe you?”

  He’d started to turn, but stopped. “Just one.”

  “What can I give you?”

  “Give me?”

  “To call us even.”

  His dark eyebrows slanted over his nose.

  “Prove to me you’re no longer a prick by claiming something now.”

  He folded his arms, squared his shoulders. “How much do you care for Ace?”

  I frowned. “What does that matter to you?”

  “How much?”

  My stomach contracted. Cramped. He was claiming his gajoï. I placed a protective hand over my abdomen, as though a hand could shield me from the pain. It couldn’t. “More than I should,” I whispered in a hoarse voice.

  The fist crushing my insides slackened, then let go.

  Cruz walked to the window and opened it.

  Before he dove into the thick, humid air, I asked, “What did Lily do?”

  He pivoted back toward me. “Excuse me?”

  “Why is she in trouble?”

  “Don’t you remember? She stole a book.”

  A millisecond later, I re
gistered what he was talking about. “Gregor found out?”

  “Took him five days, but he found out.”

  “Five days. It’s been wee—” I cut myself off, remembering that time didn’t flow the same.

  “’Til the next time, Catori.”

  I wanted to say, tell Ace to come and see me, but that sounded needy and desperate, and I didn’t want to be either. Besides, I shouldn’t need to remind my boyfriend to visit me.

  So I stayed silent as I watched Cruz’s ascent into the pink-streaked sky.

  The storm had passed. Stella was gone. The mess was fixed. My father was alive. I no longer owed a faerie a favor.

  So why didn’t I feel serene?

  14

  The Broken Ones

  I took a long shower. You’d think I would’ve had enough of being wet for a day, even a week, but deep inside, in the most unreachable trenches of my soul, I felt filthy.

  I’d killed a woman. And not just any woman. Someone I had known forever. Someone I had once respected immensely.

  How was I supposed to tell Faith her mother was gone? Sure, they weren’t close, but did that mean Faith wouldn’t care that her mother no longer existed? I slammed my palm against the shower wall. How would I tell Cass she’d lost her aunt, Etta she’d lost her sister, and Jimmy…? Didn’t they deserve to know that yet another member of their small family had left them forever? I flexed my fingers and dug my nails into the tiles.

  I wouldn’t tell anyone. It would go on top of the pile of secrets that was so high I could barely see past it anymore.

  I washed my hair a second time, frothing up the shampoo and massaging my scalp until it tingled, and then I scrubbed my skin with a loofah, working harder on my neck than any place on my body. Maybe if I scoured the spot long enough, it would tear and release Stella’s dust.

  I dropped the loofah.

  I got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself, and then I reached into the mug that held my makeup and razor.

  I grabbed the razor and drew the blade up to my throat. My hand shook, but I desperately needed to get rid of the dust. Choosing the furthest place from my artery, I scored my skin.

  I didn’t feel anything at first. But then the wound burned, and blood trickled down. I flinched and my pulse quickened. The razor clattered into the sink. I didn’t dare pinch my lids shut. I wanted to see the dust seep out. I wanted to see it leave my body. Willed it to find its way. The only thing that came out of me was more blood. It dribbled down my clean skin, over my collarbone, between my breasts.

  I gritted my teeth. “Get out.” I tried squeezing the dust out, but that increased my bleeding. “Get out!”

  My hand glowed and burned with Ace’s mark. I hit my mirror with my fist. It didn’t crack. But something slick rushed through me, flowed underneath my skin. I stared down at my hands, flipping them over and over. My skin seemed to sparkle faintly.

  I must really be losing it.

  Water dripped from my shower head.

  I looked back down at my hands. Looked back at the shower.

  I closed my eyes and breathed.

  In and out.

  In and out.

  Whatever moved underneath my skin stilled.

  I opened my eyes as my bathroom door flew open.

  I spun around. If it was my father, he would freak.

  “What the fuck are you doing to yourself?” With one step, Ace was next to me. His hands were on me, his fingers roaming over my skin to find the source of blood.

  “Careful!” I stepped out of his reach. “My blood could kill you.”

  My blood could kill him, but only if it came in contact with his heart. That wasn’t the reason I stepped away from him. I stepped away because I was mad.

  Incredibly mad.

  I hadn’t even realized how mad until he’d burst in.

  He scowled at me; I scowled right back.

  “Cat, why did you fucking cut your neck?”

  “I’m trying to get Stella’s dust out of my body.”

  “She doesn’t deserve it back.”

  I gave a dark laugh. “You didn’t hear the news?”

  “What news?”

  “I killed her today. In my kitchen. Suffocated her with her own dust. Cool, huh?”

  His dazed expression told me he did not find this cool.

  “Is it still there?”

  He snapped out of his trance. “Is what still there?”

  “Stella’s dust? Is it still there? I want it out of my body.”

  His gaze skimmed my throat. “It’s still there.”

  “How the hell do I get it out?”

  “I didn’t understand why I got my dust back, but now I think I do.” His eyes were slightly unfocused. “You have your own now.”

  “I don’t want my own dust!”

  “If you used it to kill her, then maybe you can use it to create illusions.”

  “I don’t want to create illusions! Ace, you’re not hearing me. I want it out of me! OUT!”

  His eyes gleamed like a clear, midnight sky. “Maybe you’re becoming a faerie…”

  I shook my head. “Impossible. I can control water.” My shoulder blades dug into one another as I pulled the towel tighter around me, not because it was slipping, but because my world was falling to pieces, and I needed to feel something solid. “At least, I assume I can. I blew the faucet apart. I just made water leak out of my showerhead. Faeries have fire, not water. So no, Ace, I’m no faerie. If anything, I’m a huntress with faerie abilities.”

  “Or a faerie with hunter capacity.”

  “Or I’m just a freak.” Annoyance dripped from my voice like water dripped from my hair. “That’s another possibility.”

  Ace closed in on me. “You’re not a freak, Cat.” His fingers lifted to my self-inflicted wound. “You’re not.”

  I recoiled. “Don’t touch me.”

  “I won’t die.” A small smile tugged at his lips.

  “That’s not why.”

  His hand plummeted to his thigh. “Did I do something to make you mad?”

  “It’s rather what you didn’t do. What you didn’t say.”

  He folded his arms. “Explain.”

  “I shouldn’t have to.”

  “Oh yes you should.”

  “My brand flared more than once, and you never came.”

  He expelled a grating breath. “I’m sorry, but it’s been a real shit storm up in Neverra.”

  “Did the spectators at your duobosi get rowdy?”

  “What?” His voice sliced the humid air of the bathroom like a scalpel.

  This time, I was the one who folded my arms.

  “Angelina’s pregnant, so our duobosi was canceled. Who the fuck told you about it anyway?”

  “Who do you think?”

  He growled and scrubbed a broad hand over his face. “Don’t believe anything Cruz tells you anymore. He’s a liar. The worst kind.”

  “But I thought you two—” Ace glared so hard at me that I asked, “Why did you send him then?”

  “I didn’t, Cat. He must’ve seen my hand glow,” he said darkly. “He backstabbed Lily, Cat. Told Gregor she stole the book. And now…now…” Darkness knotted over his face, shadowed his eyes. “Now Gregor turned off her portal stamp.”

  “So she can’t travel out of Neverra?”

  “Yes. Until they decide what her true punishment will be. Because they will punish her. Our father told Gregor to judge her like he would any traitor.”

  Shock, worry trampled my irritation. “Oh…”

  “So I’m fucking sorry I didn’t come. I’m fucking sorry you had to deal with Stella alone. I’m fucking sorry Cruz planted ludicrous images inside your brain.” He breathed heavily, frantically.

  “My father died today,” I told him softly, not because I wanted to make him feel guilty, but because I wanted him to know why I’d killed someone. “Stella killed him. That’s why I killed her.”

  His rage flatlined. “Shit, Cat.
” This time, when he approached me, I didn’t shy away.

  “Cruz managed to call him back, and Kajika erased his memory of it, but yeah, he died. Right in front of me.” I shook my head from side to side gently, trying to dislodge the image of the knife slicing his skin. It didn’t go away. It probably would never go away. I closed my eyes, but that only made the memory more vivid. I lifted my eyelids. “So I’m sorry I lashed out, but I’m really upset right now.” Tears stumbled out of my eyes and rolled down my cheeks.

  Ace swiped his thumb over my face and cradled my jaw. “Fuck, Cat, I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry.” He slid his hands around my neck and crushed me against him. His fingers threaded through my hair, stroked the nape of my neck. Suddenly they stilled. “Tell me you didn’t strike a bargain with Cruz.”

  I tilted my face toward his. “I didn’t have a choice, Ace. My father…he was gone.”

  His lips flattened.

  “But don’t worry. He already claimed his gajoï. I made him claim it. I’m not naïve anymore.”

  My comment didn’t seem to appease Ace, whose mouth was still a flat line. “What did he ask for?”

  I swallowed, gazed away from his face. His shirt collar was soaked in my blood. “I bled all over you.”

  “What did he ask for?”

  “We need to get the blood out.”

  “Cat—”

  “I don’t want to tell you.”

  “We’re way past you not telling me.” Ace wrapped his fingers around my upper arms and held me at arm’s length. “What did he ask for?”

  “Ace…”

  “Tell me.”

  “Ow. You’re hurting me.”

  His fingers uncurled so abruptly I almost lost my balance.

  As I rubbed my upper arms, a chilling thought crept into my core. I attempted to reason with myself that my imagination was running wild. But the more I twisted it over and over, the more I examined it, the more terrible sense it made. “He asked me how much I cared for you,” I finally whispered.

  Deep grooves formed between Ace’s eyebrows. “That’s what he wanted from you?”

  I gazed into his troubled eyes.

  “What did you tell him?”

  An abrupt decision solidified in my mind. I despised the mere thought of it, but if Cruz had turned evil, what choice did I have? “The truth.”