11.09
I’d expected a crowd, I didn’t get a crowd.
I’d expected kids of various ages, and found myself surprised.
The reality, it seemed, was that the youngest kids were running for cover. School wrapped up at half past three, and it apparently got dark at five. An hour and a half of freedom, or time to handle the minor things, then nightfall. Enchantments and spells would kick in, the civilians would find themselves suffering through an abruptly early curfew, and there would be chaos in the streets.
The bell tolled in the background, low and ominous, as if the bell itself were present for this very scene. The gathered practitioners looked over their shoulders, to the bell’s source.
“That’s one angry ghost,” a Duchamp said
“I can barely hear it,” Craig Behaim commented.
“More experienced practitioners hear it more,” the Duchamp said. “She’s after my aunt, Johannes, and the other leaders. Alister, I guess?”
“I’m not going to fall for something like that, Lola. You find out what we’re doing when everyone else does,” Craig said. He looked for the bell’s source again. “She isn’t running out of power? Where’d she get that kind of energy?”
“Some of it,” Lola Duchamp said, “Is from him.”
The Behaim boy startled a little as he saw me.
Five people in total had joined the Briar Girl and me. Alister was not one of them. I recognized Penelope Duchamp, who had been quiet thus far, and I recognized the bird on her shoulder, even if I didn’t know its name. She was joined by the girl who was apparently called ‘Lola’, a bit older than her, with bright red makeup around her eyes, pink tips on one strand of her blond hair, and a silver nose-ring. War paint, almost.
Craig, Ainsley, and Gavin Behaim were here as well. Laird’s son, niece, and nephew, respectively. I’d killed Craig’s dad, the Bloody Mary had cut Ainsley’s wrists, and I’d left Gavin behind with his wounded uncle, who I’d just hacked with an axe, then gone on to kill Laird.
They didn’t necessarily remember the details, though.
Two Duchamps, three Behaims.
I stood within a window looking out on a narrow street. The store behind me was an ice cream place that was closed for the winter season. Less of a successful business, more of a hole-in-the-wall place that people could find if they ventured off the beaten track. From what I’d glimpsed, it wasn’t the nicest looking place. All the same, we were afforded a certain degree of privacy to chat.
“You,” Craig said.
So he’d heard about who I was.
“Hi Craig,” I said. “Ainsley, Gavin. Penelope, hi again. I’ve met each of you, even if you don’t remember. This is Evan.”
“Hiya,” Evan piped up.
“I don’t remember,” Penelope said. “Craig said it was you who killed his dad and maimed his uncle?”
“And I tried to unseat Alister,” I said. “I don’t deny it.”
“Doesn’t make me feel very trusting, when I imagine what you might have done to me,” Penelope said.
“Your sister’s in a dance class, right?”
The question only made Penelope look more paranoid.
“You were dropping her off at dance class one morning, when you decided to come after me and Rose. Your sister’s Faerie familiar was injured.”
“I remember that, vaguely,” Lola chimed in. “Letita being injured, and the call to arms at way-too-early-o’clock when it was way too cold in the morning.”
“I remember too,” Penelope said.
“I showed mercy, and returned the familiar to your sister instead of trying to kill it. You called off the attack on me.”
“Ahhh,” Penelope said. “That explains why I was grounded until halfway through January.”
“Yeah,” I said. “We… I don’t feel we left on bad terms.”
“Maybe not,” she said, “But things are different now than they were.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Definitely different. Which is part of why I asked you to come.”
“I’m thinking we should wait for Mags before we get down to business,” Gavin said.
I nodded, though I felt antsy. I wasn’t sure what my friends were dealing with at this given moment. Were they at the witch hunters’ mercy?
“So,” Lola said, sitting on a metal post that doubled as a bike rack, “Bogeyman.”
“Blake.”
“Blake. What are you, in all of this? You’ve defended Rose, apparently.”
“Something like that,” I said.
“Where do you stand?”
“Right here.”
Lola folded her arms. “No jokes. Where do you stand in terms of allegiance? You’re in Rose’s camp?”
“No,” I said. “If I have to admit it, I’m really not. I don’t agree with her decisions, I don’t like how she’s playing this, and right now, I’m pretty damn anxious because of a plan she’s putting into motion.”
“Which is?” Craig asked.
“Something that, if I do share it, will be shared with the ambassador here, and your tacit cooperation.”
Craig nodded, though he didn’t look happy.
“Once, I wasn’t trapped in this mirror. The Thorburns have fought over Hillsglade House for years, and I remember being right there among them,” I confessed. “I had my opportunity to fight alongside the others for my share of the property. I could have walked away with millions. I never fought for it. I remember walking away from it all, and I remember paying dearly for that decision.”
“Cryptic,” Gavin said.
“It’s not intended to be cryptic,” I said. “It’s just who I am and where I come from. I didn’t want to be a part of this world. I was dragged into it. So far, the deck seems pretty damn stacked against me. I’ve had to give up an awful lot of the stuff I care a whole lot about.”
I searched their faces for changes in expression, for clues, signs. Did they think less of me for admitting that? Were they figuring me out? Deciphering weaknesses?
“I didn’t want to kill Laird,” I told Craig. “Your dad. I don’t know why he was doing what he was doing, but… I didn’t want that.”
“We have only your word for that,” he answered.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “Just like you have only my word when I say that I can’t lie. I’ve been down this road.”
“Ah,” Gavin said. “That’s a bit of a problem.”
“It’s a fixable problem,” Lola chimed in.
I suppressed a sigh. “You’re talking about the seal of Solomon.”