Steadfast

13

ON THE LIBRARY’S TV SCREEN, BLACK-AND-WHITE IMAGES of Albert Einstein flickered. The overhead lights were out. That meant Mateo’s phone glowed too brightly—but since not even the substitute cared about what “chemistry class” was up to, that worked just fine.

“It’s Latin,” Nadia whispered as she squinted down at the picture on Mateo’s phone. “At least, I think so. I’ve never studied it.”

“Does Google Translate do Latin?” Mateo asked.

“I’ll check and see.” Nadia got to work on her own phone. “Even at full magnification, the words are kind of blurry. It would be better to see the real thing.”

“Oh, yeah, I can see it now. ‘Hi, I’m the unstable guy who brought a knife to school!’ Let’s not go there.”

She put her hand on Mateo’s arm; the pain behind that joke was all too clear. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay. You should see it. Just—after school, you know?”

Still, he looked shaken and tired. Nadia rubbed his arm more gently, leaned close enough to whisper in his ear. “Was it rough? Dealing with your grandmother? I know how hard that is for you.”

Mateo took a deep breath. “She wasn’t as bad as usual,” he said. “Which means she was awful. But maybe twenty percent less vindictive?”

“I say we call it a win.”

He grinned, then pointed at her phone screen. “We have a translation. Okay, according to the internet, this Latin script means something like ‘the road has three sections.’”

They met each other’s eyes in mutual bafflement. Nadia said, “I was expecting something more ominous.”

“It sounds more like directions from your GPS. ‘In three hundred yards, turn left at the fortress of doom.’”

She only barely managed to hold back a laugh. “Maybe the internet translation is wrong?”

“Probably. Do we know anybody who speaks Latin? My priest, maybe—”

“Excuse me?” One of the hall monitors stood in the doorway and spoke to their substitute. “I’m supposed to bring Nadia Caldani to Ms. Walsh’s office. I’ve got a note.”

Nadia had been dodging Ms. Walsh and ignoring her emails ever since the incident at the town hall meeting. Of course, the emails had been just vague enough for her to feasibly not answer—maybe we should talk, etc. But apparently Ms. Walsh could only be put off so long.

Mateo mouthed, What’s up?

Ms. Walsh, she mouthed back. Even Mateo couldn’t understand the fear every witch felt when there was a danger her secret had been inadvertently discovered.

She sighed and went with the hall monitor.

On the way, Nadia tried to remain calm. There was almost no chance that Ms. Walsh suspected her of witchcraft. After all, she could only know about witchcraft if she were a witch herself, and if she were, Nadia would have seen evidence of it by now. Wouldn’t she? For a moment she doubted herself, but she knew the odds as well as anyone. There were very few witches in the world, and while there had been a coven in Captive’s Sound, Elizabeth had apparently driven the coven deep underground.

Okay, this won’t be about witchcraft, Nadia thought. Then what?

Probably it was about her mother leaving, or college applications, or something similarly depressing. It was all Nadia could do not to groan as she walked into the main office.

Ms. Walsh had the smaller office, nearest the door, but the principal and assistant principal both had their offices in this same area. Different sports and drama schedules were posted all around, and a few other people milled around the waiting area—including someone who wasn’t a student.

“Well, look who’s here.” Verlaine’s uncle Gary opened his arms for a hug, like they’d been friends forever; Nadia hugged him back. Even though they’d only met a handful of times, one of those times had been when Verlaine was in the hospital and they were both scared to death; people got closer at moments like that. He had a broad smile outlined by a short, crisply trimmed beard; between that, his belly, and his usual good cheer, it was easy to imagine him playing Santa for little kids. “I know they can’t have brought you in for detention. Never. Never ever ever.”

Despite her tension, Nadia had to laugh. “Just meeting with the guidance counselor.”

“It’s that time of the year, isn’t it? Verlaine keeps rewriting her Yale essay—four times so far, I swear. I thought it was perfect the first time. Didn’t you?”

Nadia hadn’t even realized Verlaine wanted to go to Yale, or that her test scores might make that a possibility. Verlaine had never even shown her the essay, because she didn’t believe Nadia could care. “I’ll ask her if I can look at it. Maybe she just needs a fresh pair of eyes. You know?”

“Some perspective. Yes. Exactly.”

“I guess you probably need to talk to Ms. Walsh, too.” Nadia’s hopes rose. “It’s fine with me if you go first.”

“Oh, no. Just dropping this off.” He held up a brown bag and a Hello Kitty thermos Nadia recognized. “Verlaine forgot her lunch, and I know she calls the cafeteria the Hall of Trans Fats.”

“It’s pretty disgusting,” she agreed. So much for getting out of this.

Faye Walsh opened her office door, her smile betraying a little chagrin—Nadia had put off replying to the emails way too long. That alone had probably told her something was up. “Well, there you are,” she said. “Come on in. Let’s chat.”

Nadia gave her a searching look. She’d always paid attention to how Ms. Walsh dressed simply because she was so stylish; today she wore a deep-orange pencil skirt and silky white blouse with a patterned scarf at the neck—basically outshining every other faculty member, and most students, by a mile. But today Nadia wanted to look for what Ms. Walsh wasn’t wearing.

And it was exactly what Nadia expected: no rings, no bracelet, no charms strung on a chain around her neck. Every witch kept her raw materials close if she could, because that was the only way to ensure her ability to cast any spell at any moment. Back in ye olden times, that had sometimes meant carrying around a bag of stones and gems, but today it was easy to keep everything on hand as jewelry. If Ms. Walsh didn’t do that, then Ms. Walsh wasn’t a witch. She didn’t know about the Craft. Whatever she’d seen at the town hall meeting, she hadn’t glimpsed the truth.

Relieved, Nadia headed into the office to talk her way through whatever was coming—but then Ms. Walsh stepped past her, obviously dismayed. “Sir? Sir, are you all right?”

Uncle Gary stood at the counter, one hand to his throat in a gesture that had become all too familiar.

Ms. Walsh ran toward him, but not in time to keep him from falling onto the floor, sprawled out across the linoleum. “Call 9-1-1!” Nadia shouted. At least the paramedics could keep him alive.

He convulsed on the floor, gurgling and coughing, as streams of black liquid flowed from the corners of his gasping mouth. Nadia pulled off her cardigan and balled it under his head.

“Hang on,” she whispered. “You’ll be okay.” It was a lie. To judge by the desperate panic in his eyes, Uncle Gary knew it.

The black stuff pooled beneath his head, burning streaks across his face and neck until it flowed and sizzled against the floor. Her cardigan began to smolder at the edges. Nadia tried to tune out the screaming of the secretary or Ms. Walsh shouting directions for the ambulance into the phone; the important thing right now was to focus on him, give him a little comfort if possible.

When the office door opened, Nadia looked up in hopes of seeing the paramedics—but instead Elizabeth stood there, unruffled as ever. Nobody else in the office even seemed to notice she’d walked in; her glamours protected her.

“What are you doing to him?” Nadia wanted to just get up and shake the truth out of Elizabeth, but Uncle Gary had clasped her hand, and she wouldn’t leave him there. “Why?”

Elizabeth dropped to her knees just in front of Nadia, close enough that Nadia could see the soft dusting of freckles across her cheeks. The acrid smoke from the black stuff on the floor wreathed around her face. “You can have the truth. You know that. And you know the price.”

Join Elizabeth. Work with her. Learn from her, Asa’s voice whispered in her memory. You’ll learn enough to destroy her long before the One Beneath has a claim on your soul.

As before, Elizabeth dipped two fingers into the gunk and lifted her hand to her bared shoulder. By now Nadia could see how the burned lines on her skin began to form the symbol she’d found in the Book of Shadows, the one that had some connection to Mateo’s family. And those first lines—a regular burn would have begun to heal by now, but instead it seemed to have burned even farther into Elizabeth’s flesh, which was so red and raw that Nadia winced to look at it.

This sign shall mark His path. The road has three sections. What was that supposed to mean? Was it a way of keeping Asa in the world?

There was nothing Nadia hated more than not knowing. Her ignorance was the reason Elizabeth could get away with this.

Nadia thought things couldn’t possibly get worse until Verlaine ran in. Her expression as she looked down at Uncle Gary and realized what had happened—that was the worst.

Verlaine sat in a plastic chair in a pale, white hallway. In the distance she could hear the beeps and clicks of medical equipment, the hushed voices of doctors and nurses saying things she probably didn’t want to hear. Around her, though, everything was silent.

She hadn’t seen Mrs. Purdhy or Riley Bender collapse, but she’d listened to Nadia and Mateo’s descriptions. Black tar that burned like acid. Smoke rising from the floor. The look of panic in their eyes—

“What’s happening?”

Nadia’s voice shook Verlaine back to something like normal. She turned her head to see Nadia and Mateo hurrying toward her. It was only just after school had let out; they must have rushed over on Mateo’s motorcycle. Verlaine didn’t move, just watched them.

They really wish they could care, she thought.

“Is Uncle Gary okay? What’s happening?” Nadia repeated as they reached her. Maybe Verlaine looked even worse than she felt, because Mateo put a steadying hand on her shoulder as Nadia said, more gently, “Hey. Are you all right?”

“He’s just like the others.” Verlaine’s voice was hoarse from the crying she’d done earlier; the words still seemed to stick in her throat. “He’s in a coma. They can’t wake him up. They don’t know why.”

Her friends sat down on either side of her. Mateo said, “Where’s Uncle Dave?”

“Talking to the doctors.” She coughed and wiped beneath her eyes, which were still damp from her tears. “When my parents died, Uncle Dave and Uncle Gary hadn’t been dating that long. And back then, lots fewer gay people had kids, so they’d never talked about it, you know? They were hanging out. Going clubbing. They were only about five years older than we are now. So when Uncle Dave got custody of me, he thought—well, that’s it. I’ve got a little girl now, and there’s no way this guy’s going to be up for that. But Uncle Gary stayed. He just kept showing up, and helping with everything, and changing diapers and taking me out in the stroller, like it was no big deal. Finally Uncle Dave broke down one day and was like, ‘Aren’t you going to leave me?’ Uncle Gary said he wasn’t ever leaving either of us. Not ever.”

Mateo put his arm around Verlaine’s shoulders, and Nadia took her hand. They were trying so hard. But they didn’t get it. They couldn’t get it.

They couldn’t see what it meant to lead a life where only two people in the world could really see you, really love you—because they loved you before it all went wrong. Everybody else got to have friends, parents, brothers or sisters, boyfriends or girlfriends, this entire universe of people who could love them. Verlaine got exactly two—her dads—and now one of them had been taken away.

“This isn’t the end.” Nadia lifted her head, and she had that stubborn set to her chin that meant her mind was set on something. “I’m going to learn what’s behind this magic, and I’m going to undo it.” She paused before adding, “No matter what it takes.”

“No matter what,” Mateo repeated, but the way he said it—well, it reminded Verlaine of the days before she’d really known Mateo, when she’d thought he was dangerous and potentially insane. The days when he’d scared her a little . . .

A third voice said, “Verlaine?”

She looked up to see Asa standing in front of her; once again he’d approached without making a sound. He still wore his coat, as if he, too, had rushed to her side. Why did a demon who seared anything he touched need a coat?

“What are you doing here?” Mateo rose from his seat and stepped between Asa and Verlaine, as if he could protect her. It was a nice thought.

“I didn’t know it would be him,” Asa said. “But I should have guessed. I didn’t. I’m sorry. For what it’s worth.”

“It’s not worth much.” Verlaine leaned farther back in her chair. She felt tired, as though she’d been awake for days. Her temples throbbed from the crying she’d done, and all she wanted was to go into Uncle Gary’s hospital room and curl up beside him on the bed. Maybe if she did, when she woke up this would only be a horrible dream.

Nadia got to her feet then to face Asa; apparently she was the only one here who had heard anything interesting. “What do you mean, you should have guessed?”

“If you expect me to explain Elizabeth’s work, forget it. I’ve given you some very helpful suggestions—which you seem determined to ignore while she keeps going.” Asa folded his arms. The black coat he wore was long and lean, zippered in a sideways slash across his chest, with a sharp collar that turned up in back. He couldn’t look more like a demon without putting red plastic horns on his head, Verlaine thought.

Yet the look in his eyes as they met hers didn’t seem demonic at all.

“Wait,” Nadia said. She put up her hands as though she were holding something back, and her gaze turned distant. “Hang on. Elizabeth will keep going. She’ll keep taking people out.”

“Is that not obvious?” Asa frowned. “I’d have thought at least that much would’ve sunk into your brains by now. I overestimated you.”

Nadia didn’t seem to pay any attention. “But the people she’s chosen don’t have anything to do with witchcraft. They aren’t falling sick at one location or one time of day. So there’s another purpose behind what she’s done. It’s like—it’s like Elizabeth doesn’t care who she hurts—but she has to hurt someone.”

Asa’s expression didn’t change, but Verlaine could sense that Nadia was on to something. “Keep going,” she whispered to Nadia.

“She’s building on pain itself. There’s only one thing you build on pain. Only one. That’s not what she’s doing. It can’t be.” Nadia’s eyes were wide now, but not with exhilaration, even though she definitely, positively had to be on to something. Instead she looked afraid.

Very quietly Asa said, “I take back what I said about overestimating you.” With one last glance at Verlaine, he stalked down the hallway; his shoes made no sound against the floor. Verlaine watched him go and thought the room was colder without him. There was no reason that should make her feel even more alone, and yet it did.

Verlaine said, “He’s going because he can’t help you work against Elizabeth.”

“No, he can help us against Elizabeth,” Mateo said, which surprised her. What did Mateo know about demons? “He just can’t help us against—”

“—the One Beneath,” Nadia finished for him. “Oh, my God. He’s coming.”

Verlaine shook her head. “The One Beneath can never, ever enter our world. You said so! Not without destroying every barrier between His realm and ours. Right? That has to be right.”

“His realm is hell,” Mateo said. “You mean, we’re talking about hell on Earth?”

“Stupid!” Nadia’s voice broke. “How was I so stupid? I should’ve seen it before. The road has three sections—but I never learned about it as a road. I learned about the three barriers between the One Beneath and our world. First He would have to break the boundaries of hell. Then He would have to create a bridge between His world and ours. Finally, He’d break through to our world and . . . end it.”

Verlaine and Mateo exchanged glances. Even her misery about Uncle Gary was eclipsed by the dawning fear within them all.

Nadia was certain now. Everything about the way she stood, the determination on her face, even the way she now stepped in front of them both, made it clear that no doubt remained. “That’s what Elizabeth did at the Halloween carnival. She broke the boundaries of hell. She completed step one. And now she’s hurting all these people, keeping them in pain indefinitely, because she’s using them for step two. She’s using them to build the bridge for the One Beneath.”

Verlaine shuddered as Mateo repeated, “Hell on Earth.”