Keystone

by Chloe Adler

  There’s no response from Jules, which has never happened before when I’ve texted her, ever. Unless she’s working, but it’s morning. There are shifts all day long, I remind myself, even though Jules usually works nights. That doesn’t mean she’s not working now.

  I try again. Please respond ASAP, I’m worried.

  I put the phone down and take a shower but when I’m done, there’s still no response.

  I start to head downstairs, but the spell room door in the opposite wing is wide open, so I head there instead.

  Inside, Cedar is fast at work. He’s poring over the family grimoire as I step inside, closing the door behind me—which is when I see Betty perched near him, clutching her crystal ball. I bristle and then check myself. She did say she wanted to prove herself. Maybe this is her way of doing so?

  “Cedar, Betty.” I incline my head to each of them.

  “Amaya.” Cedar looks up from his task. “Perfect timing. I was about to call you in for another trial. And Betty has something to show you.”

  “Yes?”

  Betty motions me closer. “I want to show all of you, actually.” Her voice is whisper soft.

  Cedar gets up and activates the house’s intercom. “Hey brothers, can you come on up to the spell room for a sec? It’s important.”

  A minute later, the door creaks open and the others enter with Arch leading.

  “Hey guys,” Cedar calls and they gather around.

  Betty runs a hand over her crystal ball. The inside swirls with what looks like fog, but when it clears there’s no mistaking the landscape it shows. Bright, hot sun beating down over a bleak desert.

  I lean in closer, struggling to make sense of it. “That’s Juna.”

  “Yes,” Betty says, “I thought as much. I’ve never seen it before but . . .”

  “How can you see Juna? You only have a piece of Tara to focus with, right?” I ask.

  Her eyes slide sideways. “Don’t be upset. I borrowed some of your hair.”

  “What!” I reach up and touch it. I can’t help the urge to check it’s still there.

  “From your hairbrush. But look, I think this means something.” She spins the ball, and like a 360-degree virtual photo, the landscape spins with it.

  My outrage disappears when the white tree comes into view. It’s no longer standing. Someone has chopped it down. “The portal,” I sputter, “it’s gone!” That must be what Vasily was trying to tell me. “I need to get back there to him. As soon as possible.” Now!

  “We’ll do whatever we can to make that happen.” Bodhi leans down and kisses my cheek.

  I lean into him. Forrest and Arch move closer too, both rubbing my back.

  Betty chews on her lip. “I’ll do whatever I can to help too. I promise.”

  I want to believe her. Right now, I need to believe her, because I have no freaking clue how to get to Juna. Even if she can help me get there by using my stolen hair, it’ll be worth the creepiness of her snagging it behind my back.

  Bodhi uses the remote control to open the roof window, and a cool breeze ruffles my locks. The men leave my side and ready the spell table while I swallow down the rising bile shooting up my esophagus. Forrest gathers the right herbs from the right jars. Bodhi moves the candles into a wider circle. Arch moves the large potted tree off the table, then busies himself at the far end of the room for a moment before returning with a seedling starter tray and four bronze cups. He places everything on the table.

  Cedar turns the page, scans down it with his finger and looks up. “Betty, Amaya, can you join our circle, please?”

  I sit down in my usual spot. “Betty, sit next to me.” I don’t know if holding Betty’s hand will do anything but my intuition says it will.

  She sits next to me, turning her head to offer me a tiny smile. I can’t return it, not with Vasily in trouble. But at least I don’t feel the urge to scowl at her for once. The men take their seats.

  “Betty suggested we each use the seedlings of our namesake trees.” Cedar takes a cup out of the plastic holder and puts it in front of himself. He passes the tray to the right and each brother grabs their match. Cedar’s is a cedar starter, Arch takes his redwood seedling, Bodhi his fig sprout and Forrest a small tray of tiny hatchlings.

  “And now your elements,” Betty says.

  So she really is trying to help after all, without asking me to fulfill her own agenda in return. I clasp my hands under my chin, holding my breath, and wait.

  Each brother removes a brass cup from the tray containing their element. Forrest’s cup has water, Cedar’s a pinch of earth and Arch’s a tiny flame. Bodhi’s is empty—except his element is air, so the cup isn’t empty after all. They place their elements next to their seedlings on the table in front of them. Bodhi lights the candles and draws the circle, locking us all inside. We clasp hands. Betty’s is cold and Arch’s, on my other side, is like a furnace in contrast.

  Cedar reads a spell from the open grimoire on the table and the men close their eyes. I keep mine on Betty but hers are turned up to the open roof. Her expression is unreadable. I gasp when the implements on the table all begin to rise, then hover a foot off the table. Is she doing this or are they?

  “Something’s happening,” I blurt, but when the men open their eyes, everything clatters down onto the hardwood table with a deafening echo of defeat.

  Betty’s mouth is set in a grim line and her moist eyes blink back tears. She turns to me and her lips twist into a frown. Her mouth opens and closes like a fish in Oceane’s seaside grotto.

  “It’s okay. Let me try. Everyone, close your eyes and keep your minds blank.” Every time I’ve tried to take someone on a planeswalk, it’s never quite worked out right. But everyone keeps telling me my powers are growing. So here goes nothing . . .

  I clasp my hands tighter and focus on Betty’s cool fingers, conjuring the corpse of the loke tree in Juna. The coolness of the dead wood against the heat of Arch’s hand, which mimics the sun that bakes down on the harsh landscape. I slow my intake of breath, focusing on the sounds just beyond our room, and let my mind soar out the glass roof above our heads. Betty’s hand grows impossibly colder, like freezing metal, and a flash of bright light washes over my closed eyelids.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  When I open my eyes, my face is pressed hard against a metal grate. I struggle to sit up, looking around. Betty is next to me, out cold. I nudge her with the toe of my Converse. Nothing. I dart a glance around even though I don’t have to. I know where I am: in the fachan’s monolith. Dammit. I tried conjuring Jura, but the last thing that flashed through my mind was cold metal, and then with Betty undoubtedly focused on Azotar . . . it’s no surprise we landed here. This is going to be one hell of a reunion. Can I just leave her here to get acquainted with Azotar and come back for her later?

  Sitting with my back to the wall I close my eyes and conjure home. I place myself back in the spell room, adding all the scents of each man, the focused way they look with their eyes closed. When I open my eyes and find myself still stuck, I drop my head into my hands. So much for my “growing” powers. Of course, this is how Azotar has felt for years, I remind myself.

  A slinky, black, eel-like mass slides past me and wraps around Betty on the floor. It takes on the shape of a person, an androgynous form with cropped hair and a slim body. But it’s transparent, like a ghost. Long, diaphanous fingers wrap around Betty, picking her up and cradling her in smoky arms.

  “What happened to my love?” Azotar asks, its voice a sibilant whisper. Its tendrils snake down her skin, caressing her. “She’s even more beautiful in person . . . so beautiful.”

  If I didn’t know their history, this scene would be too bizarre—a vengeful disembodied monster showing affection for a wicked witch. But they’re both so much more than that, aren’t they? Aren’t we all? No one can be summed up in a word; we’re all multifaceted creatures with our pasts tumbling into our presents. And no one should be made to endure what these tw
o have.

  “I’m not sure.” I push my back against the wall, using it to rise. “We landed here together and she was sprawled on the floor like that when I woke up.”

  A black tendril elongates, reaching out to lick my skin, and I shiver with the cold, my teeth chattering. “You lie!” it bellows.

  I shrink back. There’s nowhere to run here, I’ve tried that before. I hold both of my hands up and out. “Betty told me about the two of you. She’s asked for my help. You know I’m a synergist. I must have brought her here so you two could finally meet in person.”

  “You brought my love to me? You are willing to help us?” Its tone softens, the smoke curling cautiously around my feet.

  “I did and yes, I’ll try.”

  The smoke dissipates and then reforms, curling around Betty’s face, stroking it with a long, thin tendril.

  “I need to get out of here.” I don’t expect the fachan to help me in any way, even if I’m asking in order to help it, but a door in the side of the monolith slides open to reveal the blue skies of Tara outside. I squint at the bright flash of sun. I also reach out to hold on to the smooth wall in case it decides to tip the structure and toss me out. But the structure lowers until trees and flowers fill the opening. Azotar busies itself with Betty as I inch closer to the opening, waiting for an opportune moment to jump without breaking every bone in my body. The last time I jumped in Tara, I flew up instead of down, but that’s not a chance I want to take.

  The structure vibrates slightly as we touch down on the soft meadow grass. Did Azotar plan to set me down in the water meadow? Is it trying to kill me after all?

  “You may leave,” it says. “But please do not forget my beloved and the promise you have made to her. To us.”

  I didn’t agree to said promise, but I want to get the hell out of here so I nod vigorously. “Yup, yup, thank you for the drop-off. I’ll see Betty soon.” The monolith starts to rise and I run toward the open door.

  “Amaya,” the fachan says, elongating my name.

  I turn.

  “Thank you.”

  I leap out as the structure rises, sailing away, and I land face-first in several feet of water.

  Burbling and flailing, a silent scream escapes before I flip around to catch some air but the water’s already rising. Familiar with this scenario, I rise with it, looking around for a tree to grab on to, but there isn’t one. My mind reels with my slim options. Stay close to the ground, breathe the water, and drown when the meadow empties. Rise with the water, breath air, and fall to my death when the meadow empties. Call out Oceane’s true name and risk losing everything I’ve worked so hard to set up? All options suck. Before I can worry about making a decision though, a hand wraps around my ankle and yanks me down. Losing my tenuous grip on reality, I scream and water pours into my lungs.

  Looks like the choice has been made for me.

  As soon as I’m breathing the water, I kick out, my foot making contact with my captor, who lets go of my ankle. Below me, Oceane holds her cheek and glares at me.

  I show my teeth and she grabs my ankle again and pulls me down.

  The way she’s looking at me, she’s probably considering my demise. Another glare, another yank and then I’m shoved through a hole next to a boulder.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The tunnel is narrow and Oceane swims fast. I have to grab her slippery tail, otherwise I’ll be left behind. I assume she’s taking me back to the grotto, but after several twists and turns we surface in a small body of water, the floor below a mass of moss-covered boulders. It’s the Lake of Tales where the once-disembodied Azotar met me as I was trying to reach Capatani.

  One uncomfortably delicious breath-giving kiss later, we’re treading the surface, breathing free air.

  “Don’t get yourself into trouble again,” the asrai says. “If there’s a next time, I won’t save you.”

  “I understand. Thank you for saving me this time. How did you know I was in trouble?”

  “As the leader of the asrai, the water speaks to me. Whenever the Water Meadow fills, it’s like a doorbell for me.”

  “You hear a ringing?” I dog-paddle to stay in place.

  “Let’s just say I’m notified.” She blinks.

  “And you came to check, to make sure no one was dying?” As soon as I say it, I want to take it back. I may not know her well, but I know she wouldn’t care if someone was dying.

  “I can hear underwater noises and identify them, especially screams.”

  I did not scream.

  “You did,” she says. The woman must be a mind reader. “Good thing you did too, otherwise you’d be dead right now.”

  Valid point.

  Swimming in a tight circle around me, she says, “Have you spoken with the others?”

  “I haven’t had a chance. Or not recently, anyway.” The last time I checked, all were on board, though I didn’t actually ask Sabin yet.

  “I suggest you make sure everyone still agrees. Better yet, do so while you’re wielding Sanne. They may have changed their minds, they may have agreed while thinking it would never come to fruition, or they may back out using the excuse that you’re not a true Taran and thus have no right to change things here. Sanne proves you were chosen to represent Tara.”

  Sanne. I left her in Juna, but more importantly, Vasily is still there and probably needs my help. “How do I get back to Juna?”

  Oceane shrugs. “I’ve never been there. How’d you get there before?” I flush and she smiles evilly. “I’m happy to help.”

  “Thank you but hopefully there’s another way.” I have to find another way.

  “As you wish.” She dives under the water, waving goodbye with a flip of her tail.

  I swim to the water’s edge and hoist myself out. Surely one of the other inhabitants of Tara will know. I look around to get my bearings. I’m closer to Zuri’s evergreen tree than to the loke tree, which borders the land where the dryads reside. Since I have no conch to call the flying abada horse, I take to my feet, squishy Converse beating the dirt, and run as fast as I can. What seems like a long time later, I’m leaning against the evergreen, panting. Soft voices fill the air.

  “Amaya?” Paxil cries out from a branch, fluttering down to greet me.

  “Paxil,” I wheeze, “can you get your mother?”

  “Of course.” He buzzes away and returns a few moments later with Zuri in tow.

  “What’s wrong?” Zuri lands on my shoulder.

  “Do you know how to get into Juna?” I turn my head to look at her, unable to focus.

  Zuri hops up and down. “Why do you need to go there?”

  “For Vasily, Verity and Sanne. Everyone is needed for the five of you to release Azotar, yes?”

  Zuri nods. “That is true.”

  Paxil reappears, zooming around my face like a bee zeroing in on a delectable flower. “Can I go with you? Can I, Mom? Please?”

  “Paxil, shush. Go watch your sister.”

  “But Mom . . .”

  “Paxil!”

  He pouts and flies away.

  “I don’t want him to get any ideas,” Zuri mutters.

  “I would never take him there, Zuri. I would never take anyone there unless I had to. I want to bring the people who are there back here.”

  She shudders. “They didn’t treat us very well. Vasily’s father and his sister Katrina, they treated us like second-class citizens. Having Azotar here is far worse, but none of the Tarans are fans of the royal family.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. When will I catch a break? This is news to me, though Katrina did express distaste for those who weren’t part of her flock. Oh well, this will be Vasily’s problem to fix. And he can’t fix it until I get his ass back here where it belongs. I open my eyes again. “What about Vasily and Verity?”

  “Oh,” she lifts off my shoulder to land on my other one, “the twins, yes, they’re both lovely, always treated us like equals. Vasily was a wonderful king, most beloved.” />
  “And their court? The royalists?”

  She fans herself. “A few problems with them, mostly those loyal to the old king.”

  I look up into the evergreen tree, where faeries bustle about. Some push carts filled with nuts while others buzz about, talking to each other. Paxil stares down from a branch right above our heads while his younger sister plays with a leaf.

  “How did Katrina get her family and the royalists to Juna? Surely someone knows.”

  “It was never spoken about. We don’t know.”

  “I know!” Paxil calls down.

  Zuri flies off my shoulder and up into the tree to join her son. They whisper together for several minutes while I shift my weight from one leg to the other, neck craned up to watch. Zuri leans in close, hops back from her son and then hops forward. In a matter of minutes she’s jumping up and down, pogoing on one leg. “This is not over!” she screeches as Paxil flies down. I hold out my hand.

  He lands in my palm, looking up at me. “Remember all those years ago, when we first met in your garden?”

  “I could never forget.”

  “Well, the reason I was there, on Earth that day . . . the reason you could see me is because I was trying to recreate what the royals did to move their people out of Tara.” He kicks one foot with the other, looking sheepish. “I was trying to get to Juna too, but I ended up on Earth by accident.”

  Zuri mumbles something incoherent, throws her hands above her tiny body and zooms up into the tree to glower at her son from above.

  “I’m glad you did, otherwise we’d have never met. Can you tell me how you got there? And do you know what you did wrong, to land you there instead of in Juna?”

  “It was because of Azotar. When Vasily’s father banished it and then when Vasily himself brought it back, it honed its magic. Everything was chaotic once the fachan returned. I don’t think Vasily thought it through. He’d created the monolith to contain it but he didn’t get anyone’s approval.”