Steadfast

18

VERLAINE HAD THE STORY UP ON THE LIGHTNING ROD home page by eight a.m.

Town Under Quarantine said the headline in the largest type that would fit on a standard page view. People could click through to see the photos she’d taken last night; since she couldn’t sleep anyway, she’d driven along every road that led out of town as far as she could, until she reached the vans and barricades. The sight of government people in white coats conjured up a few conspiracy theories, but while they were fairly rude about making her go back, they didn’t stop her from taking pictures. So apparently no top secret, illuminati-type stuff was going down.

Verlaine hadn’t been able to nail down an interview yet, but she’d been able to find other records of CDC quarantines and how they worked. That gave her material for an info box about how nobody was allowed to leave town, but how these things normally only lasted a few days—until the scientists figured out just what kind of disease they were dealing with.

In this case, the disease was magic. The CDC was good at lots of things, but detecting magic wasn’t one of them. That meant the quarantine might be going on a while.

She’d sent tons of material to the Guardian editors, too, assuming Mrs. Chew would ever go ahead and post it. In the meantime, though, anybody eager to learn more about what was happening in their hometown should be led to the Lightning Rod through a simple Google search. Mr. Davis couldn’t tell Verlaine she’d overstepped this time. Even Desi Sheremata would have to notice the good work she’d done. The basic updates had gone up an hour ago, in which time the site had received . . .

. . . nine hits. And one comment awaited moderation.

Nine. A total of only nine hits. People in town had to be panicking. Medical vans were parked all over the place, everyone had a relative in the hospital, and nobody much could know what was going on. Didn’t they have to be online, looking for information? Didn’t they care what was happening to this town?

She tried to think of something constructive to do. The only thing that came to mind was the one comment she had to moderate, so she opened it up. It read:

Awful, how only the most beloved members of the community have been struck down. Mavis Purdhy with her twins at home who need her—Riley Bender, the homecoming queen—Gary Turner, a caring father—and now so many more, but all of them so dearly missed. It’s as if someone wanted to cause as much pain as humanly possible.

Then again, this amount of pain isn’t entirely human, is it?—Asa

Great. Her only page views were coming from demons who wanted to taunt her.

Verlaine hit Discard as Spam, then flopped down on her bed, pulled a pillow over her face, and wished the entire world would just go away.

The last time Nadia had staked out Elizabeth’s house, Verlaine had suggested that she was maybe pushing things too far.

So this time, Nadia hadn’t told Verlaine about it.

She had ducked behind a neighbor’s hedge, partly shrouded by a spell of shadow; this wouldn’t make her totally invisible, but it would make people less likely to turn her way. Nadia wasn’t sure how long she’d have to wait. She was pretty sure Elizabeth didn’t get out much. Not likely to run to Costco, or join a book club. Still, obviously Elizabeth left her house sometimes, and the next time she did, Nadia intended to seize the chance.

Nadia had brought her phone and earbuds, a thick coat, and even a folding seat her dad used when he went camping; she was prepared for the long haul.

Which was why it surprised her so much when, not ten minutes later, Elizabeth’s door opened.

Elizabeth had forgotten what it was like to feel weak.

The muscles in her body obeyed her only sluggishly; her skin burned with what she dimly remembered as fever. She wanted water to drink, so much that at first she thought her old thirst had returned—but it was just this sickness having its way with her.

“We call it infection,” said the demon as he led her along the street. “Are you conversant enough with the twenty-first century to understand infection?”

It was what modern people believed in, instead of evil spirits. Fools. “I want it done with.”

“Then come with me,” he said. He spoke slowly now, as though to a child; Elizabeth wished to scold him for it, but in truth the fever made it harder for her to understand. “The only drugstore in town has been sold out of every useful item since yesterday. But my parents have supplies at my house.”

“They are not your parents. It is not your house.”

Asa’s expression darkened, but he only said, “You’d better hope it’s my Neosporin, hadn’t you?”

They went to the Prasad home, where his parents greeted her with the same glazed delight all humans gave to Elizabeth. For some reason Asa didn’t seem to like watching her charm them into adoring her. Was his humanity getting the better of him already? Had he learned to like these hapless people who were sheltering a demon’s soul in their dead son’s flesh?

When the human world fell, and Elizabeth stood beside the throne of the One Beneath, she would slaughter them before Asa’s eyes. It would be a test for him, a test of his worthiness, a test he would certainly fail.

In the family bathroom, Elizabeth stared dully at a dish filled with shell-shaped soaps—what an odd thing to possess—while Asa worked on her burns. He muttered, “If you’re going to burn gashes in your flesh that will never heal, you might consider keeping your own medical supplies at hand.”

Elizabeth hadn’t entered an apothecary’s shop in nearly one hundred and fifty years, so she didn’t recognize any of the items he’d taken from the medicine chest. No matter. He would fix this, and she could go on.

It was true that the seal had seared her arm terribly. His pathway had been burned into this world; all that remained was for the bridge to be built.

That bridge was weaving itself longer, stronger, and broader every single moment—

She first felt the warning—a shiver in the air that made her hair stand on end. Was it her Book of Shadows? Her sense of magic? As Elizabeth jerked to her feet, Asa sensed it, too. He began backing away as she said, “Stop time.”

He hesitated. The insolent beast hesitated. His hatred of her was as obvious as his pride, and he would pay for both.

Elizabeth shouted, “Do it!”

Asa brought his hands together again. For a moment they glared at each other, before she turned and stalked out of the bathroom. His nursing appeared to be at an end, and she intended to deal with this latest interruption immediately.

They went past the Prasads, who were frozen in place in front of their television set. Wordlessly they walked side by side down the few blocks that led to her house . . .

. . . which was on fire.

The fire was frozen, of course. Each orange flame glowed still and slow, like electric lights rather than any natural burning. To judge from the fact that her house still stood and looked relatively undamaged, the fire could only have just started. And yet it had already spread throughout her house. Only magical flame did this.

“Where is she?” Elizabeth had to look over the area two or three times before she saw Nadia Caldani standing there. That spell of shadow had been well cast; even knowing of her presence, it was hard for Elizabeth to focus on her. But perhaps that was only the “infection” of which Asa spoke, muddying her mind.

Elizabeth walked into her house, easily stepping around the tongues of still fire. Every flame was frozen in place, each flicker like a sculpture of glowing gold. The heat remained, but Elizabeth could endure that. For one moment she simply stared at the brilliant light around her attempting to consume her home and spell book.

Asa paid the heat no mind, of course; he was used to hell. He didn’t even take off his coat. “A spell of conflagration. Nicely done. She could have gotten your Book of Shadows if we’d been only a few seconds later.”

Conflagration was indeed a sudden and devastating spell. It worked faster than virtually any defense. With a demon on her side, though, Elizabeth had all the time she needed for a spell of negation.

A wish unspoken.

A promise broken.

The work of a lifetime destroyed.

She held out her hands, allowing her fingers to rest in the heat of the still flames themselves, as she brought the ingredients together. The light was so brilliant she could see through her own skin and muscle, revealing the dark outline of bone.

Lauren Cabot, determined never to marry, defying Elizabeth’s wishes and insisting she had to go through life alone—never able to carry the curse herself lest she self-destruct before bearing the children Elizabeth needed to endure the curse next—and then one day turning her head to look at the handsome newcomer in town, Alejandro Perez—not daring to speak of her longing, but it was there, and in that moment Elizabeth knew the line would continue.

“You don’t interfere with us,” the witch said, “and we don’t interfere with you.” As if her weak, pitiful little coven could interfere with Elizabeth’s great work. But she nodded and even smiled, only waiting for the moment to destroy them all.

Standing in the wreckage of the Halloween carnival, feeling the jagged tears in the world where the One Beneath’s cell had been, thinking of every witch who had given her life’s work, or even her life, to trap Him—but now at last His cell had been broken open and He might now walk free—

Instantly the fire went completely out. Her house wasn’t even damaged; the only evidence of the spell of conflagration was a thin layer of ash lying over every surface. Asa brushed off his black coat with distaste. “What a mess.”

But when he held up his hands to let time resume, Elizabeth shook her head. “Not yet.”

Elizabeth walked outside directly to where Nadia stood on the sidewalk nearby, her bracelet of witching charms still clutched in one hand. The wind had caught her ponytail, and time had stopped at a moment where the intent on her face was very clear, very real.

“She’s strong, this one,” Asa said. “She’ll do whatever it takes to save the soul of the boy she loves.”

Elizabeth could not imagine a greater waste of time than saving someone’s soul. “Begin again.”

Asa clapped his hands, and time returned. Nadia startled; she had been staring at a house on fire, only to have it instantly go out—and see Elizabeth apparently materialize in front of her. When she glanced at Asa, though, she obviously realized what had happened. Her face flushed with anger. “If Asa hadn’t been with you—”

There were other ways in which she might have saved her home and spell book, but no point in letting Nadia learn too much about her power until they were on the same side. “Asa is here,” Elizabeth said evenly. “And so you failed again.”

Nadia sagged against the nearest tree in disappointment—and Elizabeth smiled.

“Doesn’t this make it even more clear that your skills are lacking?” She tried to say this pleasantly, to show none of her impatience. “That you have so much more to learn?”

“Not from you,” Nadia said. “Never from you.”

Asa chimed in. “I don’t know where else you expect to learn anything. Certainly not at Rodman. After two weeks, I have no trouble pronouncing high school a total loss. Nothing they teach will ever be relevant to your existence ever again. Except calculus. They have calculus in hell.”

Elizabeth ignored this irrelevancy. Her eyes never left Nadia’s face. Though to any outside observer they looked the same age, she could feel all the centuries that lay between her life and Nadia’s. What had it been like to be so young, to still have hope that the world could be made new and sweet, that it might comply with your will? She couldn’t remember. Perhaps she had never been quite as young as that, even as a girl.

If she couldn’t speak to Nadia as a young woman, then perhaps it was time to age her spirit. To show her what the world really was.

“So what are you going to do?” Nadia hadn’t backed up even a single step; that took some courage. “Do whatever you want to me, but I swear to God, if you go after my father again—”

“If I go after him again, he’ll enjoy it. At least for a little while. But your father isn’t the one you should be thinking about. If I were you, I’d realize it was well overdue to start thinking about your mother.”

Nadia actually laughed. “My mother has nothing to do with this. She’s not even here.”

“Did you think that was coincidence?”

It was always so delicious, that moment of realization: the moment when people realized the trouble they were in was infinitely deeper than they’d ever dreamed—the moment when uncertainty or tension turned into real fear. Real fear was sweeter to Elizabeth than wine.

“You didn’t do anything to her,” Nadia said, trying to sound more certain than she truly was. “She left us. Just—left. Moved out. Got a divorce. Same old story. You didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“No, I didn’t. And yet I know the truth about what happened—a truth you haven’t even begun to guess.”

Even more beautiful was the first real temptation. Nadia could have turned her back on all the wisdom and witchcraft Elizabeth had gathered during the past four centuries, but knowledge about her mother? That was the perfect bait for the hook. Nadia actually took a step forward then. Good. The best witches were always more strongly motivated by curiosity rather than fear. “Did you make her leave us?”

Elizabeth laughed. My God, the girl really was still a child. “No. Why would I? I didn’t even know you then. But surely it struck you as strange. Even if your mother had come to despise your father—even if she couldn’t stand the endless annoying burdens of motherhood one day longer—she remained a witch. Your teacher. Responsible for your training. Even if she had abandoned you as a parent, she wouldn’t have abandoned you as a witch. At the very least, she would have found a coven to bring you along. But she didn’t, did she?”

“I don’t understand.” Nadia looked halfway wild now. “You know she didn’t—she just—what are you saying? Tell me. Just tell me!”

She slipped it in as swiftly and smoothly as she would have a dagger into the ribs. “Your mother didn’t abandon you, Nadia. She traded you.”

Nadia jerked back, stiff as though she were in physical pain. For whatever reason, she looked toward Asa, who shrugged. “It’s news to me.”

Pressing her advantage, Elizabeth added, “Your mother traded you for something she wanted more. More than you, your father, and your brother put together. She made a deal. It’s as simple as that.”

“What?” Nadia’s voice shook. “What could she have wanted that much?”

“I didn’t make the trade,” Elizabeth said. It was close enough to an answer. “But can you imagine what kind of power might have been on the table? What knowledge, what gifts your mother might have received in return? I’m not asking for anything so dear—though maybe your mother didn’t consider her family too dear, not if she made the trade so readily. No, you don’t have to abandon anyone. All you have to do is see reason. Come and work with me. Learn from me. Together I think there’s nothing we couldn’t do.”

Nadia turned to Asa. “Is she lying about my mom?”

“No,” the demon said. “I can tell that much. Elizabeth has told you the truth.”

For another moment Nadia hesitated, and then she turned from Elizabeth and began walking away. Not running, not fleeing the scene . . . just walking.

“She’s in shock,” Asa murmured.

“It will wear off. And then perhaps she will see sense.” Elizabeth realized she was weaving slightly on her feet—the infection Asa spoke of, the one burning its way into her arm. The fever affected her still. “Help me inside.”

He took her arm, his unearthly warmth almost comforting to her. November was indeed turning cold; she must see about that coat. As he walked her back into the house, Asa said, “You realize Nadia won’t take your word for it. She’ll investigate.”

“Her mother doesn’t speak to her. She can’t leave town. There’s only so much investigation Nadia can do.” Elizabeth smiled. The One Beneath would be proud of her, glad His work was being carried out. “In the end, if she wants answers, there’s only one person for her to turn to. Me.”

Nadia felt as though she couldn’t see, couldn’t even breathe. And yet she made it back home and through the front door again.

At least there was no one she had to put on a smile for; not even for Cole’s sake could she have done that now. But Cole was asleep in her father’s lap. Dad must have nodded off while letting his little boy watch cartoons after a long, sleepless night. For a moment, Nadia stood there looking at them—Cole in his Batman pajamas, his cheeks still round with baby fat, and her father with stubble on his cheeks and weary circles under his eyes even in sleep.

She traded them. Mom traded them away like they were nothing. Like we were nothing.

Nadia wasn’t going to be treated like nothing any longer.