Steadfast

23

IT FELT LIKE A MILLION YEARS SINCE NADIA HAD BEEN home, not just two days. The windows glowed with light and warmth, welcoming her back.

As she came in, her dad called from the living room, “Nadia?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t sound surprised—then again, so far as he knew, she’d just been across town at Verlaine’s. She smoothed down her hair, hoping he wouldn’t notice that her lips were swollen and flushed; her entire body still hummed with excitement from Mateo’s touch. Straighten the sweater, double-check the belt: okay. “I’m back.”

“Is everything good with the Laughtons?” Dad appeared, a tape measure around his neck. “You know, we could have Verjane here for a couple days. Might give Dave a break.”

Her mother’s voice echoed in her memory: Your father’s stronger than I thought. Nadia struggled to act natural. “I think she wants to stick close to home.”

Her father nodded, like, That makes sense. From the living room, Cole called, “Nadia, you have to see me! Come see me!”

She stashed her backpack and went into the living room, where Cole stood with his arms outstretched, beaming proudly. He was wearing—what was it? Some kind of white sack, padded lumpily from the inside, and a white fluffy hat—

Mashed potatoes.

“We get to have the Thanksgiving pageant, and then there’s no more school until the doctors leave!” Cole was beside himself with excitement. “That might not be until after Christmas! I look awesome.”

Dad crossed his arms as he surveyed his handiwork. “Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.”

“It’s great,” Nadia said. She thought about how her mom had always been the one who put together their Halloween costumes, or helped them with school projects. She’d meant to make this costume herself, but Dad had managed on his own. He’d come through. Cole was coming through. Both of them were getting over the worst abandonment of their lives, even though they could never know the real reason it had happened.

Cole frowned. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Nadia said as she wiped at her cheeks. “But it’s beautiful, you know? It’s the most amazing costume I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s not that good.” Dad chuckled as he pulled her into his embrace. More softly he said, “You’ve had a rough couple of days, huh, kid?”

Normally Nadia hated being called kid, but she’d let it go this time. “Yeah.”

He ruffled her hair. “I think we all have. Did you eat?”

Mateo had given her the last food he had at the house. She nodded. “Did you guys?”

“Yeah. But we’ve still got flour and sugar and a little butter. Who thinks we need to make some cookies?”

Cole began dancing in celebration, which looked so goofy in the mashed-potato costume that Nadia had to laugh.

Just being with her family and loving them, weird as they were—she took it for granted sometimes. Or she had, before seeing what had become of Mom after all the love had been torn from her heart. Never again, Nadia swore. She’d never forget again. From now on, she could love her dad, and her brother, and Mateo the way they deserved to be loved. Black magic or no, she’d remember to love Verlaine, too.

The darkness had taken as much from her family as it was ever going to. Never again.

Today would be the final unraveling.

Elizabeth walked along the street, bundled in her gray cape like any other teenaged girl. People waved to her cheerily, each of them no doubt thinking how dear she was, how much they admired her. She didn’t bother waving back; they’d remember her doing that anyway. They’d remember a smile.

Her new crow looped through the morning sky overhead. The flight pattern wouldn’t look unusual to any casual observer. Only someone watching carefully would realize the crow was flying in precise, geometric circles with Elizabeth at the center.

Mateo Perez, she thought.

Midway through the arc, the bird shuddered in the sky, its wings flailing for only a moment before it regained steadiness. Elizabeth lifted one hand as if to point at the exact place the crow had faltered.

In her palm was clutched a crumbling bone, one from the first Cabot she had ever cursed. It would help her reach the last.

CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

THANKS FOR YOUR LOYALTY

LA CATRINA WILL RETURN!

The exclamation point felt like they were trying too hard. Still, his dad had hand-made the sign, and Mateo didn’t feel like making another one, so, okay.

He’d signed out of his first-period study hall, the better to finish closing the restaurant. The few useless scraps of peppers and guacamole had to be cleaned out of the fridge before they went bad; they had to take another tally behind the bar—stuff like that. Dad had worked late last night, leaving the finishing touches for Mateo. Hanging the sign on the door was the final step.

Mateo had never resented working at his father’s restaurant. Yeah, it ate up a lot of his spare time—and now that Nadia was in his life, he’d rather have spent that time with her—but still, Dad had always made it clear that the restaurant was what kept a roof over their heads. Grandma had disowned Mom when she got pregnant with him. They had to make a living. He had been expected to chip in as much as he could, as soon as he could, and that was just how things were. Really, it was better, being in touch with reality. Sometimes when Mateo heard his classmates bitching about not getting the newest phone or whatever, he wondered if they had any idea where money came from.

As he locked the door, though, he realized that he’d miss his shifts at La Catrina. Was it possible he actually liked it?

You’re just turning into mush today, Mateo told himself. He remembered last night, holding Nadia in front of the fire. Just the memory of the way she’d felt against him made his gut tighten, his heart turn over—

The light blazed around him, through him, making him stagger backward against his bike. All around Mateo, the world seemed to bend and break.

What the hell? He fumbled for his phone, thinking he had to call Nadia and tell her something serious had gone wrong. But then images took shape in the light, images that moved and spoke, and he realized that they weren’t the work of his Steadfast power. They were dreams.

His curse had broken free from sleep, and had sent the visions to torment him even now.

Nadia by the waves, wind whipping at her hair, screaming, “You don’t own me! You’ll never own me!”

Verlaine surrounded by the fires of hell itself.

Elizabeth with her arms outstretched, a smile on her face, triumphant.

Mateo tried to tell himself that none of it was real. He understood that the visions were only images of what could be—and yet he couldn’t make out the shapes of the buildings and cars around him, couldn’t even be sure that was really the ground beneath his feet. He slumped down until he fell, or seemed to fall; he couldn’t be sure.

The crow continued circling. Elizabeth held up her hand, sending her power into it, and thought, The little children.

Once again, it fluttered in the sky, uncertain. It was like shooting a bow and arrow, Elizabeth thought, and the crow was the bowstring being plucked. Its feeble life directed her weapon and gave it speed as it flew toward its target.

But she didn’t need the bird to lead her to the place she’d strike next. She was already there.

Elizabeth stood in front of Nadia Caldani’s house and smiled.

“Okay, where’s our pecan pie?” The substitute teacher, who was really nice but really old, kept looking through all the kids. Who was pecan pie again? Cole couldn’t remember. All he knew was that his costume was the very best one.

“Mine’s stupid,” Levi said. His mom had just put him in a brown sweater and pants and hung a sign around his neck that said GRAVY.

It was definitely stupid, but Cole knew better than to say so. He tried to sound cheerful as he said, “It’s okay.” Also, he couldn’t help thinking that at least Levi could go to the bathroom without having to ask someone to help him get out of his costume. Cole was starting to think he’d have to ask really soon, but he was embarrassed, and the teacher seemed like she was too busy.

Well, Dad would get here in a few minutes. All the parents would come to the pageant, and he could just go to the bathroom then, when Dad would take him.

He shifted from leg to leg and hoped Dad would get there before the pageant started.

The girl at the window—Abigail, in her cranberry-sauce outfit—started shrieking. Cole turned and saw all the birds. There were hundreds of them, hundreds and thousands, and at the sound of Abigail’s screams they began hurling themselves against the window.

Cole screamed, too. So did most of the kids. But he could still hear beaks and feet scrabbling against the glass, see their wings beating so hard, like they could save themselves. It was like they were flying into the window, but Cole somehow knew they were being thrown. That they were in pain, dying, afraid, but they couldn’t stop.

They couldn’t stop until they got through.

One pane of glass cracked, and it sounded like lightning.

Elizabeth raised her hand to knock, but she didn’t even get the chance. Mr. Caldani opened the door. He was nicely dressed, and in his hand he held one of those “cameras” people now had, which captured the illusion of an event for viewing later. Perhaps he was going to see his small son.

Or he’d been planning to anyway. His afternoon was going to go quite differently. This afternoon would make him her possession, and give Elizabeth her best, sharpest weapon against Nadia’s heart.

She managed not to laugh.

“Hi,” she murmured. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Oh. I—no. Of course not. No.”

“Can I come in?” Elizabeth stepped over the threshold without waiting for an answer. Mr. Caldani looked as if he wanted to object, but her enchantments kept him silent and struggling.

She was close enough now for him to smell her skin. Elizabeth willed him to feel the warmth of her—to believe she was the only warmth in this entire cold, useless world—to think he’d been alone forever and that he couldn’t bear it one moment more.

Elizabeth smiled up at him, almost conspiratorial. “Shouldn’t you shut the door?”

He had to know that was an invitation. He had to know precisely what she was inviting him to do.

Still Mr. Caldani backed away. Still he fought to hold on to his decency—it was almost sweet. “Nadia’s not here.” He had begun to sound desperate. “You can probably find her at school.”

“I’m not here for Nadia.” With that she raised her hand, two fingers touching his shoulder, and she unleashed a spell of desire no man could resist. . . .

Violet light flashed. Mr. Caldani blinked, straightened up, and was affected by her no longer. If he even remembered wanting her, there was no sign. “Elizabeth, I’m afraid I have to go. My son’s in a school play. And besides, I think you should only come by when Nadia’s invited you. Don’t you agree?”

Elizabeth took a couple of steps backward. Her mind was now unfocused, her breathing fast, her cheeks flushed: arousal. Human arousal. She hadn’t felt this so vividly in centuries. All the desire she had meant to inflict upon Nadia’s father was now infecting her.

“Hey, what was that flash of light?” Mr. Caldani said as he firmly guided Elizabeth out onto the front stoop, then pulled the door shut behind them and locked it.

“Flash of light?” She felt as though she’d been awakened from a dream.

“The purple? Never mind. See you later.” With that he hurried to his car. Simon Caldani was no longer affected by her in the slightest.

Whereas she—

Betrayer’s Snare, Elizabeth thought as she staggered along the street that led toward Rodman High.

Only Betrayer’s Snare could have protected that man from the enchantments she’d laid on him, and sent that enchantment rebounding back on her. She ought to have anticipated that Nadia would try this—but she hadn’t, and now, just when her concentration was most necessary, her brain was fogged with crazed desire.

Elizabeth had not felt true physical arousal for centuries. There had been some minor excitement when she’d ensorcelled Mateo before the Halloween carnival, tricking him into kissing her when he believed her to be Nadia, but that was nothing compared to this. Longing infused her, made her bones ache and her flesh clench almost to the point of pain. All the desperation she’d put into the spell for Simon Caldani was now in her, driving her to madness.

Just get to the school, she told herself. Asa will be there. He can be made to serve.

But as she wandered into the school parking lot, she saw someone else first: the tall, dark one who kept company with Mateo sometimes. Was his name Gage?

“Elizabeth,” he said, his face lighting up. He’d never made any secret of his attraction to her, not that she’d ever cared about it one way or another until now. “Hey. What’s up? Just . . . forgot my psych book in my car . . . my car here—” He pointed at the car, then stopped himself. “I’m acting like an idiot around you again, aren’t I? Mateo says I ought to . . .”

His voice trailed off as she raised her hand and cast the spell again. It was far weaker than the one she’d directed at Nadia’s father, but given Gage’s crush on her, it would more than answer.

Gage’s eyes widened. His psychology book fell into the gravel beneath their feet. He pulled her to him, forgetting where they were.

“You’ll do,” she said.

It was like one of his bad dreams, except he was awake.

Cole and his friends all huddled on the floor beneath their desks, hands outstretched to keep back the birds. The windows had all broken, and there was glass all over the floor, and even the teachers couldn’t do anything but scream.

But some of the parents came in, and once there were more of them, they could get the birds back a little—and then Daddy was there at last, scooping Cole into his arms and putting a coat over his head until they were way down the hall. For a while Cole just cried out loud, and he didn’t even feel like a baby for doing it.

“It’s okay, buddy.” Dad ruffled his hair. “It’s okay. It’s all over.”

“What happened?” Cole whispered.

“I don’t know. The birds must have seen their reflections in the glass.”

“But why were there so many?”

Abigail’s mom came by them and said, “Something is wrong in this town. Really wrong. You see it, don’t you?”

“Well, obviously,” Dad said.

“I mean, strange.” She leaned closer to both of them, and Cole felt weird, because he didn’t like seeing a grown-up as scared as a little kid. “This isn’t natural, what’s happening here. Maybe it sounds like something out of—a bad movie, I don’t know. But it’s real. You know it as well as I do. And we have to put a stop to it.” With that she stalked off, pulling Abigail behind her.

Cole watched Abigail go. “Are we not having the Thanksgiving pageant?”

“I don’t think so, buddy.”

“What did Abigail’s mom mean? Was she talking about the birds?”

Dad didn’t seem to be listening, but he said, very slowly, “About the birds, and other things.”

Nadia started getting the texts first thing in the morning. First Mateo—but his messages were blank, or garbled nonsense. At first she’d assumed she was just receiving butt texts that would stop when Mateo took his phone out of his back pocket, but they kept coming, one after another. It was like he was genuinely trying to reach her but wasn’t coherent enough to do it.

Just as she was trying to tell herself not to be stupid, a message came in from her father about the chaos at Cole’s school. Nadia was trying to think of what Elizabeth might have to gain by taking away some little kids’ Thanksgiving play when her dad texted: BTW, Elizabeth dropped by again. Seems odd. Does she have problems @ home? Might want 2 talk w/ school counselor.

At first all Nadia could feel was triumph. Elizabeth must have made her move on her father, and failed. The Betrayer’s Snare had worked.

But then she realized that Elizabeth had attacked the school, too, which meant she was springing all her traps at once. Those garbled messages from Mateo went from merely odd to terrifying.

When the bell rang for third period, Nadia dashed into the hallway. Through the scanty group of students still attending full time, she caught a glimpse of a fuzzy, pink sweater over a wide, white circle skirt—pure 1950s. “Verlaine!”

Verlaine turned from her locker, at first merely blasé, but her expression shifted into concern as Nadia pushed toward her. “Oh, crap. What’s happening now?”

“I’m not sure, but we have to get to Mateo, this instant.”

“Sounds like a good excuse to skip.” Verlaine shoved her books back in her locker and slammed it shut. “To the Batmobile.”

That was when the ground began to shake.

Nadia gasped and put her arms out, the better to hang on to the wall of lockers—but they were squeaking wildly, shaking open, sending heavy textbooks and tons of crap flying. Verlaine took her hand and pulled her back toward the center of the hall.

“Earthquake!” someone yelled.

“Since when can Elizabeth make earthquakes?” Verlaine huddled on the floor next to Nadia, both of them putting their hands over their heads just like in those stupid drills.

“She can’t.” Some things were beyond even the power of witchcraft. “But the One Beneath can.”

After only a few moments, though, the tremors stopped. The school still seemed to be in one piece, though people were crying and freaking out. “Forget about skipping,” Nadia said as she and Verlaine rose slowly to their feet. Plaster dust had fogged the air. “I think school’s out.”

Verlaine coughed once. “Okay, even if you didn’t know about witchcraft? You’d have to know this whole situation is severely screwed up.”

She was right, Nadia realized. It took very little to veil the world of witchcraft from everyday people simply because they were so quick to explain away deviations from the norm. To convince themselves they hadn’t seen something that would make them question the reality they knew. But Elizabeth and the One Beneath were abandoning even that faint pretense. They meant to terrify. They meant to be known.

“Come on,” Nadia said. “Whatever’s going on, it’s happening to Mateo.”

Together they ran for the doors, but they swung open just before Nadia and Verlaine would have slammed through. Faye Walsh stood there, her once-pristine white sweater twinset now grubby with dust and debris. “Excuse us,” Verlaine said as she tried to duck past, but Ms. Walsh put out her hand, halting them in their tracks.

“We need to talk,” Ms. Walsh said. “Nadia, I’ve been trying to talk to you for a long time.”

Nadia forced herself not to scream with frustration. “Yes, ma’am, I know, and I’m sorry, but honestly—is this the time?”

“Oh, yes. It’s time.” Ms. Walsh crossed her arms. “When I see evidence of witchcraft, I want to talk to a witch.”