The house began to creak and groan, as it sometimes did during a heavy storm—but the day promised to be bright. As Elizabeth lifted her head, the floor itself began to shake. The broken glass scattered about her floor began to skitter along the worn floorboards, and the glow from her stove brightened—brightened again—until it was nearly blinding.
Immediately Elizabeth dropped from her bed and went to her knees. Shards of broken glass pricked her flesh, drawing blood, but she paid the pain no mind. Instead she prostrated herself, accepting the blame.
“I will not disappoint you, my liege,” she whispered. The light burned her eyes, even through her closed eyelids. “Nadia Caldani will come to me. I swear it.”
The heat only intensified. His anger was growing; His impatience, too—this close to the end of His confinement, it was no wonder.
Nadia had something to give him that no one else did. Elizabeth understood. It wasn’t that Nadia was more important, more beloved—only that she was a necessary step.
Purpose restored, Elizabeth lifted her head, allowing the light and heat to sear her. This small punishment was no more than she deserved.
“Not long now,” she said. “I swear it.”
The burning heat slowly dissipated. Elizabeth opened her eyes; everything had a sort of faded, red-gold look, as though she had stared into the sun for too long. She could see the trickles of blood around her cut knees.
As she rose to her feet, her resolve strengthened. It would have been simpler to do this more gradually—less complicated, less prey to difficulty—but the One Beneath had already waited too long to claim this world for His own. Elizabeth would not be the one to make Him wait even longer.
Then let it come all at once. Let it claim who it will. Let it begin.
16
NADIA HADN’T FELT THIS WEIRD ABOUT WALKING INTO Rodman High since her first day. Although people buzzed around her, talking and laughing, she could feel their glances glaring on her like a spotlight. Or maybe not a spotlight—one of those lamps from old movies, the ones the 1940s cops shone on suspects to make them talk.
And they made their whispers louder for her benefit. Mateo Perez—that freak.
He’d texted her that morning still completely beside himself because of what had happened. Nadia had played down the first sleepwalking incident, hoping against hope that it was an aberration, but apparently not. The sleepwalking was dangerous enough in its own right—what if he’d wandered into traffic? If this happens in winter, he could freeze to death!—but what worried Nadia most was that the entire town’s paranoia about the cursed Cabot family had now focused on Mateo harder than ever. Mateo had enough burdens to bear; did he have to deal with this, too?
When she turned the corner toward her locker—and, not far away, Mateo’s—Nadia immediately saw a familiar face, if not the one she’d been waiting for. “Verlaine! What are you doing here?”
Verlaine shrugged. “All I can do at the hospital is wait. All I can do at home is cry. So somehow Rodman is the least horrible place for me to be. That’s new.”
Nadia put her arms around Verlaine, reminding herself, She needs this. She needs her friends. Be one. As always, when she overcame whatever dark magic shadowed Verlaine, the impulse surprised her—and apparently Verlaine, too, because it took her a moment to hug back. But when she did, her grip was fierce.
“Nothing’s changed?” Nadia asked.
“Nothing. Uncle Gary’s still asleep. They put him in the same room as Mrs. Purdhy and Riley Bender; supposedly they’re studying them all together. Really I think the doctors don’t know what to do with any of them, and lining up the hospital beds makes them feel like they did something productive.”
“It might be useful,” Nadia said. “If you can get me in there, maybe I can try to figure out a little more about the magic at work.”
“Oh, hey, yeah!” Verlaine actually smiled a little. “I didn’t even think of that.”
Maybe Nadia could help; maybe she couldn’t. But she’d managed to cheer Verlaine up, at least momentarily. Gently she teased, “I can tell you’re worn out. You didn’t even wear one of your vintage outfits today.”
“Excuse me?” Verlaine gestured at the bedraggled stuff she wore. “Torn jeans? Flannel shirt? Nineties grunge all the way.”
“I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy to stop you.” Nadia went ahead and stowed her stuff in her locker. As soon as she shut the door and turned her head, she saw Mateo.
She loved him so much that it was less like she saw him and more like he happened to her—every line of his face new, as if it were that first moment they’d met. Mateo’s dark eyes met hers, and she opened her arms as she went to him.
They embraced fiercely, and he buried his face in the curve of her neck. Everyone in the hallway was staring at them, both at Mateo and the girl who wasn’t afraid of him. Was Mateo the only one in the world who didn’t know how much she loved him, that she would never give up on him no matter what?
But Mateo kissed her quickly then looked into her eyes, and she thought maybe he knew, too.
It was Verlaine he spoke to first, and Nadia couldn’t blame him for pulling away and offering Verlaine a hug as well. “Hey, you’re here. Are you all right?”
Verlaine hugged him back. “If by ‘all right’ you mean I can now go at least fifteen minutes without crying—maybe? We’ll see. How are you? I heard you had another nocturnal adventure. Oh, wait. That kinda sounded dirty.”
Mateo actually laughed. “Unfortunately, no. Unless you mean my feet. They were gross. I don’t even want to know what I walked through.”
He was joking about it. Nadia’s heart swelled with pride at his courage, facing down both the curse and the sneers of those around them. She took his hand, and for a moment as he smiled at her, she thought everything was well between them again, the way it should always have been—but then Mateo’s face fell.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw Elizabeth.
Her first thought was that Elizabeth looked terrible, which wasn’t a thought she’d ever had about Elizabeth before. Evil as she was, a sort of warm glow seemed to follow her everywhere, enhancing a beauty that was all the more striking for being so low-key and natural. Even now she was beautiful.
But instead of the gossamer white she usually favored, Elizabeth wore a dress that—well, it had once been white, but now it was dingy, even stained. Her curls had lost some of their bounce. Band-Aids over her knees only slightly disguised a number of cuts. If it had been anyone else, Nadia would have asked whether she was okay.
It’s like she’s forgotten how to take care of a mortal body, Nadia thought. She’s tearing it up as she goes.
Mateo suddenly straightened. His eyes took on the distant look that Nadia had learned to recognize as a sign that he was seeing something through his Steadfast powers—some working of magic that even a witch couldn’t witness for herself. “Oh, my God,” he said.
“What?” Nadia grabbed his arm then, not that he seemed to notice. “What is it?”
One guy in the hallway fell to the floor. Then a girl right next to them did the same. A teacher who came through the door slumped against one wall, coughed up the black slime, and slid down into unconsciousness.
People began screaming, freaking out, running in all directions. Gage immediately grabbed his phone to call 9-1-1; a few others stooped to check on those who had collapsed.