“No,” said Jaxon, sharply. “No Divellion will ever come near you.”
I shot him a sideways glance. “Because you’ll protect me?” I guessed, sounding a little more sardonic than I’d intended.
Jaxon laughed huskily. “Yes.”
I stared at him for a long moment. Something about his presence made me feel at ease, like the way I felt when I watched breaking waves shatter against the shore, or feathery clouds drift along an azure sky. Amidst all the drama that left me free-falling through the solar system, Jaxon was my anchor.
“You make me feel calm,” I found myself telling him.
“Good,” he said, watching me pensively. “You’ve no reason not to be.”
“Aren’t you worried about the Divellions?” I asked.
“No.”
“Ness is,” I told him. “So is Mr. Garret.”
“Maybe,” Jaxon replied, impassively.
I gave him a shrewd smile. “So how come they’re worried and you’re not?”
He shrugged. “Because I know what I’m capable of.”
I felt my breath falter. “And what’s that?”
“Whatever it takes,” Jaxon said instantly.
Not knowing how to respond, I twiddled my thumbs.
We slipped into a comfortable silence, and as the seconds ticked by, my focus came to rest on the chestnut-coloured wall, which was humbly lit by Jaxon’s flickering oil lantern.
“I have something I’d like to ask you,” I began. I turned to him, and his eyebrows slanted upwards.
“Do you, now?”
I took a deep breath. Here goes…
“I saw one of your sketches yesterday.”
Jaxon tilted his head towards me. “Is that so?”
“I hope you don’t mind,” I added.
“I don’t.”
“It was of a pier. And it looked so much like the place I used to live…”
“Yes,” he said, “Ms. Ballester did mention that you lived there.”
My eyes widened. “So, it really was Port Dalton?”
For a second he seemed sad. “Yes.”
“How did you…” I hesitated. “Have you been there?”
“I have. Many times.”
“When?”
With a melancholy look in his eyes, Jaxon gazed across the shadowy corridor.
“I went there every summer. It was a family tradition. Until my mother got sick and…” he let the sentence trail off, closing his eyes in remembrance.
A huge part of me wanted to push the conversation further. I wanted to find out more. But I knew that was all he could give me. His memories were too raw.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. In the back of my mind, I recalled the gravestone I’d seen him stand beside. It made me wonder…
“Do you miss it?” Jaxon asked, startling me out of my thoughts.
“Port Dalton?”
He glanced at me and nodded.
“Yes,” I told him. “I miss the life I had there.”
“Aren’t you happy here?”
“It’s all so different,” I murmured. “I’m different.”
“How?”
“I’m a…” I hushed my voice, “witch.”
“But you’ve always been a witch.”
“I didn’t know it, though,” I pointed out. “And on top of that, my grandfather’s gone, and I’m living with a stranger.” I felt a pang of guilt for saying it, but I supposed it was true. It was not that I wasn’t fond of Ness, but she wasn’t my grandfather, and she was a stranger.
“She won’t be a stranger forever,” said Jaxon. “I’m sure every day she gets less strange.”
He frowned at his choice of wording and I giggled.
“Actually,” I said, “I think every day she gets more strange. I like her, though.”
“It’ll get easier,” Jaxon promised me.
“Speaking from experience?”
“Yes, as it so happens.” He exhaled slowly. “When I first arrived, I felt the same way you do. Confused, missing my family…”
His comment threw me. But what had I expected? That he’d just magically appeared one day from out of nowhere? I knew he’d been at the Academy for two years, but of course he’d had a life before that. He carried his own scars, literal and metaphorical.
“Are you happy here now?” I asked.
There was a long pause while Jaxon brooded over his answer. At last he broke the tension with a roguish smile.
“Right now, this second, I’m happy.”
I returned the smile. “Me, too.”
“There, you see?” he said, winking at me. “You’re going to be just fine.”
The tone of his voice struck a place in my soul that no other person could reach. I believed him when he said that I’d be fine. And I believed that it would be, in no small part, because of him.
I slid down the wall and sat on the floor.
Jaxon joined me.
“If you want to sleep,” he said, “I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
We were shoulder to shoulder now, creating a closeness that sent little waves of electricity between us, flowing through his body into mine and back again until we were fused together.
I studied him carefully. “What’s it like being a solider?”
My question took him by surprise. “I don’t think I can answer that.”
“Why not?”
He rubbed his jaw. “Because I don’t think I want you to know.”
“Is it that scary?”
Jaxon laughed darkly. “No, it’s not scary. I am.”
Chapter Ten
Battle Scars
Each year the carnival would come to Phoenix Holt. Red and yellow circus tents would invade Garlands Fields, along with stalls, rides, and the sweet smells of candyfloss and hot, buttered popcorn. It was the one weekend of the year when the whole town would come together to enjoy the festivities.
Well, almost the whole town.
For Wilber, this was a brand new experience. He gazed in wonderment at the scene. The sun had set, and was replaced by blue and red ultraviolet spotlights. A gigantic arched sign stood to mark the entryway, spelling out the word ‘carnival’ in curvy red lettering. Hundreds of people swarmed the entryway, buying their tickets from scalpers and purchasing snacks from the refreshment stands.
“Tickets!” a stout man hollered to the milling crowd. “Get your tickets here, folks!”
“Come on!” Jesse said to Wilber, towing him through the throngs of people. “Hey, mister!” he yelled to the man selling tickets. “How much?”
The plump gentleman tucked his thumbs into the front pocket of his apron. He leaned back on his heels, sizing up the two boys.
“One shilling,” he decided.
“One shilling?” Jesse mulled it over. “For both tickets?”
“In your dreams, kid,” the man replied. “It’s one shilling a pop.”
Jesse snorted. “Two shillings? Forget it. We’ll get them somewhere else. C’mon, Wilber.” He turned to walk away.
“Hey, wait!” the man stopped them. “You’re not going to get a better price than that. I’m doing you a good deal here, kid.” He took two tickets from his apron pouch and waved them seductively at the boys.
Jesse glared at him. “I don’t think so, pal,” he said, cannily. “There are a million other guys selling tickets around here. We ain’t paying two shillings.”
Wilber nudged Jesse. “Maybe we should,” he said under his breath. After all, they were still less than the full marked price.
“No way,” Jesse scoffed. “We’ll pay one shilling for both, or we’ll walk away.”
“Ha!” the man guffawed. “See you boys later. I wish you luck.” He slipped the tickets back into his apron.
Jesse spun around, but before he could take a step, the man called him back.
“Wait a second, kid.”
Wilber saw Jesse smile before turning back to face the scalper.
The man cleared his
throat. “I’ll tell you what. Just because I like you, I’ll do you boys a deal.”
Jesse, who even at fifteen years old could comfortably hold his own with a grown man, stared him straight in the eyes.
Ready for the haggle, the man produced the tickets again. “One shilling and one half—”
“One,” Jesse interrupted, in an obstinate tone. “One shilling or we walk.”
Well and truly beaten, the man’s lips formed a tight line. “Fine,” he mumbled gruffly. “One shilling. Now, give me my money and get gone.”
Wilber dug into his pocket.
“I’ve got this,” Jesse said, shoving a shilling into the man’s greedy paws and snatching the tickets in exchange.
A grimace spread over the ticket seller’s face.
The corner of Jesse’ mouth twitched upwards. “Pleasure doing business with you, sir.”
“Get out of here!” The man shooed them away. “Damn kids.”
Laughing wickedly, Jesse dashed into the crowd.
Wilber raced after him, completely in awe of his new friend.
He caught up with Jesse at the arched entry. The parched ground was dusted with sawdust, and up-tempo music boomed from one of the nearby tents.
The carnival.
At that moment, Wilber thought it was the greatest thing he’d ever seen in his entire life. The buzz of energy made him feel as high as a kite. He couldn’t understand why his mother had never taken him there before. She’d had twelve years to do so.
Oh well, at least she let me come today, he thought gratefully, remembering how they’d scraped together just enough money to cover the ticket cost and one ride.
Two rides, now, he amended, almost bursting with excitement. And one for Jesse, too!
Nothing in the world could spoil that night.
Or so he’d thought.
“Ballester? Is that you?”
Wilber turned around. Oh, no. His heart sank.
“It is you!” A tall, fair-haired boy sauntered over with two other boys tailing him.
“Hello, Mick,” said Wilber.
Mick gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder, causing Wilber’s slim frame to hunch forward.
Jesse frowned.
“What a nice surprise seeing you here, Ballester,” Mick sneered. “Isn’t it, fellas?”
His two lackeys nodded sneeringly.
Mick rubbed his chin. “So, you working tonight, Ballester?”
“W-working?” Wilber stuttered.
Jesse dipped his flat cap over his eyes and muttered irritably under his breath.
“Yeah, working,” Mick went on with a snide smile. “You work the carnival, right? You’re the freak show, aren’t you?”
His friends cackled with laughter.
Jesse scowled. “Lay off him,” he warned Mick.
The older boy gave him a fleeting glance, then smirked crookedly at Wilber. “So?”
“I-I don’t w-work here,” Wilber stammered.
“Too bad,” said Mick. “But if you’re searching for a career, I’m sure the carnival would snap you right up. A filthy witch like you.”
“Hey,” Jesse snapped. “That’s enough!” He slammed his palms into Mick’s chest.
Startled, Mick staggered to regain his footing. When he noticed his hangers-on watching, he straightened his shoulders, towering over Jesse.
“You wanna take me on?” Mick hissed. He let out a mocking laugh.
Jesse flexed his hands, more blasé than cowed. “Okay.”
Wilber stood rigid, his face ashen. “Jesse,” he urged, “let’s just go.”
“We’re not leaving,” Jesse told him.
Mick’s lips curled up over his teeth. “The freak’s right,” he spat. “It’s time for you to leave.” He dived past Jesse and pushed Wilber to the ground.
Wilber landed on his hands, wincing as mud and sawdust pierced the skin.
I should never have come here, he realised.
He gingerly clambered to his feet, just in time to see Jesse swing his fist at Mick.
A stream of blood exploded from Mick’s nose, gushing down his face like an opened faucet.
“He broke my nose!” Mick wailed.
“Holy crap!” Jesse cried. “Okay, now we can leave!”
Jesse and Wilber pelted into the carnival, weaving in and out of the stalls as fast as their legs would carry them.
#
I awoke to the sound of screaming. Deep, bloodcurdling screams of agony.
“Sam!” I cried out.
It was him. I knew it was him.
I untangled myself from my dream. As hazy as it was, I remembered Wilber. Secrets Be Known, the name of the spell turned over in my mind.
It took me a few seconds to work out where I was. I realised that Jaxon was gone, and I was alone on the hard corridor floor.
Another cry of pain came from the bedroom.
I scrambled to my feet. “Sam!”
Stumbling over myself to get into the room, I came face to face with a sight that terrified me to my core.
Sam, lost somewhere between dreams and consciousness, thrashed on his camp bed, projecting the most chilling cries I’d ever heard. Stooped over the bed, Jaxon pressed his forearm against Sam’s chest, pinning him down.
“Stop!” Sam pleaded, lashing out at the air around him. “Tell them to stop!”
Across the room, Todd stood frozen with his back pressed up against the wall.
“What’s happening?” I cried, rushing over to the camp bed.
Sam broke free of Jaxon and struck out as us blindly. “Get away from me!” he shouted. “I have to stop them!”
I grasped Sam’s shoulders and shook him. “What’s wrong?” I called. “Can you hear me?”
His eyes were rolled back, but I noticed a flicker of recognition at the sound of my voice.
“They’re going to kill them,” he choked.
“Wake up,” I ordered, speaking steadily and clearly. “I think you’re still under the spell. I think we both are.”
Sam’s hands trembled, but he lay still now. “We have to stop them. They think they can beat them—”
“Wake up,” I said again. “Open your eyes.”
I watched him struggle to bring his eyes to focus. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow.
I glanced helplessly at Jaxon, who stood steadfast at my side. His expression was unreadable, but I could tell from his rigid stance that he was as alarmed as I was.
Sam let out another earth-shattering howl.
With that, the bedroom door flew open and Ness hurried in. Her wispy hair was in rollers and she wore a long purple dressing gown tied at the waist.
“Stand back,” she ordered.
We did as she asked.
“Do you remember the name of the spell you did?” Ness asked me, carefully lifting my brother’s eyelids and inspecting his pupils.
“It was called Secrets Be Known,” I told her.
Ness pressed her forefingers against the point between Sam’s eyebrows. “Wake up. You’re not there, you’re here. Your name is Sam Ballester, and you’re in Phoenix Holt, living with your Aunt Ness. Your sister and brother are here with you. Can you tell me their names?”
“Sophie and Todd,” he replied in a slurred voice.
“Very good, Sam,” Ness told him. She took hold of his trembling hand and squeezed it gently.
“Can you feel that, Sam?” Ness asked him.
“Uh huh,” he said, his eyelids lifting and dropping in constant motion.
“Who is holding your hand?” Ness persisted. “Do you know?”
“You,” he said.
Ness exhaled in relief. “Good. Wake up, now, dear.”
Since the thrashing had stopped, Sam looked immobilised, exhausted, and weakened.
“Is he okay?” Todd asked from across the room.
“He’ll be fine,” Ness assured us. “Sam? Can you tell us what you saw?”
His eyes opened slowly and he stared up at us with ru
eful sorrow. “They went,” he murmured. “They promised Wilber they wouldn’t go, but they left us with him while they went to hunt the Divellions. They think they’re going to win…”
“Ah,” Ness said as she perched on the edge of his camp bed. “Your parents.”
When Sam spoke again, something about his tone seemed almost delirious, as though he still wasn’t entirely with us. “They’ve gone to fight the Divellions, but I know they won’t come back for us.”
Suddenly it occurred to me, he hadn’t thought about Todd during the spell. He wanted to know what happened to our parents, I realised. That’s the secret he wanted to reveal. I couldn’t blame him. In fact, if I’d thought of it myself, I would have done the same thing.
“Okay, dear.” Ness mopped his brow with the sleeve of her dressing gown. “There, there. It’s okay.”
“Our parents were killed by Divellions,” I murmured, more for my own benefit than for anyone else’s.
Ness cast her benevolent gaze at me. “I’m so sorry. So very sorry.” She let out a long breath. “I’ll prepare a brew to reverse Sam’s spell. I think it’s safe to say he doesn’t need to see anymore.” She hesitated. “What about you, Sophie? I can make enough of the remedy for you, too, if you so require it.”
Perhaps I should have jumped at the offer. After all, I didn’t want to endure what my brother had. And there was not much I could learn about Wilber that would make any difference now. But I found myself refusing Ness’s offer all the same.
I watched as Sam stared woozily around the room.
“Are you sure?” Ness tried again. “Sometimes these spells have a way of baring a little too much of the truth.”
I glanced at Jaxon. There was a pleading, almost desperate look behind his smoky eyes. I knew he thought I was making a mistake—especially after witnessing what had happened to Sam. But it didn’t change anything. I was going to see the spell through, whatever it unveiled.
#
It took almost an hour for Sam to completely calm down. And for a while after that, I wondered if he was a little too subdued. But gradually he became more like himself. More human. We all did. In many ways it was a relief to finally know the truth about our parents, no matter how awful that truth may have been.
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