by Alicia Fabel
“You know where the kitchen is?”
Kale nodded. Vera did a happy dance. It was as though fighting him off all night had used up all her anxious energy, leaving her the most relaxed he’d seen her. Or she was giddy from sleep deprivation and adrenaline. She was also looking at him expectantly just then.
“I should probably clean off all the dried blood, so if someone sees us, we don’t cause a midnight panic in a palace of witches,” Kale said.
“Good plan. Be quick, though.” Vera’s stomach growled again, in anticipation this time.
Kale paused on his way past her. “Thank you for what you did for me tonight, Vera.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Yes, it is. You were braver than anyone I know, to do what you did.”
“I’m not brave.”
“You’re wrong about that,” Kale said firmly then his lips twitched. “But I still think you’re an idiot too.”
“Back at ya, Scotchie.” Her strange nickname for him didn’t sound like an insult that time.
“You’ll be fine,” Kale told Vera for the twentieth time.
Vera stuck her tongue out at the back of his head, and then stepped on the hem of her skirts—also for the twentieth time. That’s what she got for not paying attention. Her arms chafed against the crystals sewn into the bodice as she untangled herself from the layers of fabric. She hiked the front of her skirts higher, showing off her tennis shoes beneath. The pointy boots with heels she’d found waiting beside the dress had been a no-go.
“This thing is ridiculous,” she grumbled. “This whole fear thing is ridiculous. Who has a banquet to celebrate fear? It’s dumb.”
“You have nothing to worry about,” said Kale, tugging at the neck of his high-collared shirt.
“Sure, sure. Just a quick walk through a magic passageway that’s going to make me face my greatest fear. I won’t be able to turn back or the stupidness will get worse. It will seem like I’m totally alone, but you promise you’ll be right there. Oh, and everything I see will be tailor-made to make me crap my pants, but it won’t be real. You’re right, nothing to worry about at all.” Vera tipped her head back and spoke to the ceiling. “Lady, please don’t let me end up catatonic tonight.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I swear I’m gonna kick you,” Vera threatened. “Again.”
“You kicked me too?” he asked.
“Repeatedly.”
“Where did you kick me?” Kale’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m betting you’ve already guessed.” Vera scrunched her nose with an evil half-smile. “Be grateful you have that super-healing mojo of yours.”
“You are an insane woman.”
“Better crazy than dead, right?”
“With you, I’m not always sure.” Kale dragged her around one more corner where the “festivities” were kicking off.
All fourteen triads were gathered and waiting for Maiden to open the passage. It was just another hallway, but this one looked like it had been formed around a ginormous balloon, which they’d popped afterward. The distended walls left plenty of room for all the mingling witches. They were all smiling and chatting, obviously excited for the banquet. Yep, they’re all completely mental. At the sight of Kale and Vera, those smiles evaporated. A few witches stared, others tried to sneak inconspicuous peeks but mostly failed.
“Well, this is fun,” said Vera through her teeth.
“It won’t be long,” Kale assured. “I timed it so we’d get here at the last possible moment.”
“Ah. That’s why you were walking like a speed demon. I approve.”
Another hush fell across the room. This time, for Maiden’s arrival. The women parted, leaving a path for their leader. Vera searched for lizards in Maiden’s hair as she passed but saw nothing. Knowing the things could hide so well was equal parts impressive and disturbing. Kale, on the other hand, did not look Maiden’s way. He was scanning the room and the other witches. Vera was supposed to be doing the same. She had no idea what she was supposed to be looking for, though. Kale had said anyone acting strangely. Yeah, they were witches. Everything about them was strange.
“Welcome sisters,” said Maiden cheerfully once she reached the passageway doors. “Merry meet.”
The room erupted in greetings and hugging. From their enthusiasm, Vera would’ve thought they were all seeing each other for the first time in forever. Except, they’d been standing around gabbing a few seconds before. Vera moved closer to Kale to avoid getting caught up in the touchy-feely-ness. It was a riot of colorful gowns, gems, and flowers on all sides, with each triad decked in their family’s colors. Vera and Kale stood out in their silver and white ensembles. Those were the only colors not claimed by an elite Summartir family. Apparently, wearing any family’s colors to a formal event was frowned upon if you were an outsider.
“Is this strange enough for you?” Vera asked Kale.
Kale rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Cassie’s not here,” Kale observed.
“Does that mean we are off the hook for this schtick?”
“No,” Kale said, frustratingly.
“Tonight, we celebrate fear,” said Maiden when the outpouring of affection subsided. “Fear protects us from that which would harm us. We embrace our fears and we face them. Only by facing them, can we understand what they are trying to show us. Then we can move forward, stronger and wiser.”
Maiden ran her fingertips over the doors. A gray mist stood out against the pale material of her gloved hands. She whispered reverently to the stone. With a click, the doors swung outward. Beyond them was a short hall. The hall was so short, Vera could see the tables of a banquet hall on the other end. Tables filled with tureens of soup, platters of fruit and roasted vegetables, and tiered plates piled with desserts. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. Vera had expected a long haunted-house-style passageway, not something that was maybe twenty-feet long. More importantly, there was cake.
“As you have noticed, the Guardian and his charge are joining us this year,” announced Maiden. “They have agreed to be the last in our progression. The feast is ready. Please follow me.”
Maiden stepped into the passageway and vanished. Literally vanished.
“Where’d she go?” Vera whispered to Kale.
“Keep watching,” he answered.
A moment later, Maiden emerged on the other end of the passage. She turned and beckoned to them. One by one, the witches followed their Maiden’s lead, each disappearing for a minute or two before popping out on the other side. There went Vera’s momentary calm. She mentally urged the women to slow down but in no time, the conga-line of terror had moved into the banquet hall. And it was Vera’s turn.
You got this girl. Come on, now. Vera closed her eyes and stepped forward.
An alarm wailed. Vera slapped her hands over her ears to block out the sound. Her inner ears throbbed. Sure the hall had detected her human-ness, Vera started to turn back before it was too late. Behind her stretched an abyss. In front of her was an endless expanse of nothingness. It was already too late. The alarm intensified. Vera’s ears popped, and her fingertips came away wet with blood.
It’s not real. It’s part of the allusion. The banquet is right there. Vera hoped the reminders would slow her heart. Suddenly, Cassie was there. The witch spun in a circle like she was looking for the exit. When she saw Vera, she stopped.
“You,” Cassie accused. “What have you done?”
“Me? This is your ritual, not mine. If something’s going wrong, you should probably talk to your people.”
“I have to get out of here,” Cassie said, panicking and walking quickly through the passage.
Vera was about to point out that Cassie was going the wrong way, but realized the witch was coming straight for her. Cassie yanked a curved blade from her skirt and jabbed it toward Vera’s chest. Vera barely got out of the way in time. Holy deja vu. It was like the passageway had
pulled the memory of Vera’s Summartir-gate nightmare right from her mind. Then added a dash of Cassie-the-betrayer into the mix for an extra kick of awful. It was a total jerk move. Vera’s cheeks flushed with heat as she turned to face the Cassie illusion. She was done with all the magical bullcrap.
“I will kill you,” yelled Cassie.
“Try it, witch,” Vera shot back.
The psychotic allusion leaped at her, blade swinging. Vera dodged, twisting around to shove the witch from behind. Cassie fell hard at the edge of the abyss. Vera raced for the banquet hall before Cassie got up.
“Vera?” said Cassie with confusion.
Vera looked back, heart pounding in her blood-crusted ears. The witch had flipped onto her back and was staring down at the knife protruding from her chest. She’d fallen on her own weapon. Vera tensed, wondering if fake-Cassie would get up and attack again but she didn’t. Blood pooled around Cassie’s body. Vera sprinted the rest of the way. She didn’t want to think about how the blood was so much darker than she would’ve imagined.
Kale was waiting for her, his hair disheveled from running his hands through it. Vera was going to kill him for making her go through that.
“How are you already here?” Vera asked.
Kale didn’t answer. He tipped her head, looking at her neck and face. His jaw jumped, and he was breathing faster than Vera had ever seen. Why is he upset? I’m the one who begged not to have to go through that to begin with. Vera batted Kale’s hands away angrily, blinking back the tears sting her eyes. She didn’t want to cry—she was mad. She wanted Kale to know she was furious at him.
“How are you here already?” Vera demanded. “Did you go a different way?”
“No, Vera. I went through just like you. An hour ago.”
Vera finally looked around. The witches were not feasting, they were clustered near the passage, watching for something.
“Did you see Cassie?” called out a young witch.
A buzzing started in Vera’s ears. Kale used a cloth to wipe away the blood. It was real.
“It wasn’t real.” Vera’s voice hitched. She shivered. Kale pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her to warm her up.
“Shh,” he whispered into her ear just as the screaming began.
The passageway had cleared, revealing Cassie’s body just inside the doors. Vera struggled to breathe. An elderly woman, dressed in the same burnt-red as Cassie, elbowed through the witches. She knelt beside Cassie, resting an age-spotted hand on the dead witch’s head. A sob tore from the woman’s chest. A young witch, with a halo of dark curls and porcelain skin just like Cassie’s, also rushed forward and fell to her knees beside the woman. As the old woman and young girl clung to each other, the other witches gravitated toward those dressed in the same colors. They were seeking out their families for comfort as they grieved.
“What happened?” Kale whispered into Vera’s hair.
“She tried to stab me. I pushed her away. She fell on her knife.”
Kale stepped away, lifting Vera’s hands between them with a long exhale.
“You didn’t kill her,” he said with relief.
“Yes, I did,” Vera argued.
“Shh. It wasn’t you,” Kale said. “Someone set it up to make it look like you, though.”
The witches began to hum. Cassie’s family bent to kiss her closed eyes. The old woman and young girl placed both hands on Cassie. One on her head, the other over her chest. Rust-colored mist gathered around them, shrouding Cassie’s body. When the mist melted away, Cassie was gone. The blood was gone. All that remained was a black stone the size of Vera’s thumb where Cassie’s body had been. The old witch picked up the stone, and the young witch helped her to her feet.
“It’s a bloodstone,” explained Kale quietly. “The last drops of blood turn to stone when a witch is murdered. They’ll use it to find Cassie’s killer.”
Vera couldn’t breathe.
“It’s not you,” Kale said, reading her distress.
Kale maneuvered Vera into the circle forming around Cassie’s family. Kale was wrong. Soon, they were all going to know it too. They probably already did. Vera looked around the circle. A few witches looked back, suspicion written on their faces. Maiden caught Vera’s attention. The leader of the witches drained her cup and set it on the table behind her. The old witch in orange began to chant. At the same time, Maiden’s fingers twitched, that dark mist dripping from her hands. Vera’s palm stung. Scalding heat flowed up her arm. Vera flinched. Kale looked over, frowning, but before Vera could say anything, the heat cooled and was gone just as suddenly as it had begun. Around Vera’s neck, the medallion was warm and heavy. The old woman kept chanting. Maiden stumbled, confusion flashing in her eyes just before they rolled back and she collapsed. With a burst of light, the bloodstone winked out of sight.
No one moved toward Maiden until Kale did. He didn’t release Vera, so she stumbled along behind him. The witches backed away, whispering and covering their mouths. Kale dropped by Maiden’s side and felt for a pulse.
“She’s okay,” Kale said to himself more than anyone.
The relief in Kale’s tone made Vera look at Maiden a little differently. Were Kale and Maiden a thing? Maiden’s eyes popped open. She looked at something that wasn’t there. Blue mist shot from her fingers and made a hole in the plaster where she’d been staring. Well, this feels familiar. Good thing Kale couldn’t shoot magic from his hands or last night would’ve gone a lot differently.
“You will not help your Maiden?” Kale asked the room of witches. “You’ll turn your back on her when she needs you?”
“She has been found guilty by the bloodstone,” called a witch.
“Your kind always was quick to decide guilt,” Kale said with disgust as he restrained the thrashing Maiden.
“We have the evidence. The pain of the bloodstone was too much for her,” said another witch.
Kale took Maiden’s hands and slid the gloves down her arms. One hand, and then the other. The witches watched closely. Kale lifted her hands to show the room.
“How about now?” Kale asked. “There’s no mark. The bloodstone didn’t brand her. She’s been poisoned.”
The witches surged forward to aid their leader after that, their mouths stretched into huge O’s of horror. Vera wondered if it was because their leader had fallen, or because they’d been willing to leave her there. Kale planted himself between the mob of witches and Maiden.
“You’ve seen that her hands are clean,” Kale said. “If you want to touch her, you will show me yours first.”
“You cannot demand that,” they cried in outrage.
“I already have,” Kale said flatly. “Now, it’s up to you how long your High Maiden stays on the floor without assistance.”
Vera was shocked when the witches did not move. What were they waiting for? None of them had killed Cassie—she had. Still, the witches glared and stood unwaveringly.
“For all we know, Cassie’s killer is here and is responsible for poisoning your Maiden. Are you willing to let that witch go free for your damned pride?” Kale asked the witches.
Finally, a crone in candy-apple red stepped forward and peeled off her elbow-length gloves. She presented her hands to Kale for inspection, flipping them back and forth. Kale let her pass. The crone knelt beside Maiden. As one, the rest of the witches followed suit. Gloves were stripped off and dropped to the floor, clean hands presented to Kale for inspection.
“Show them your hands, Vera,” Kale said after he’d cleared the final witch.
Vera held out her hands, flipping them in the same way she had seen the witches do. She’d already looked and known there wasn’t a mark that she could see. The witches seemed satisfied, which made absolutely no sense. If the trick with the bloodstone was to be believed, no one there had killed Cassie.
“Tonight, we will mourn and watch over the Maiden. Tomorrow, we will begin a witch hunt,” said the crone who had cried over Cassie. “We will find
the witch who killed our sister and poisoned our Maiden.”
“Could Cassie have poisoned Maiden’s cup before she died?” Vera asked Kale when they were far enough from the witches that none could overhear.
“I saw Maiden dip that cup of wine from the bowl after you came out of the passageway,” said Kale. “No one else was poisoned so it was added to Maiden’s cup later. After Cassie was gone.”
“Will Maiden be okay?”
“Yeah, she’s powerful enough, she’ll be fine. No one else here would survive that particular poison, though.”
“Except you,” reminded Vera. “So, you know what the poison is?”
“Yes and tomorrow we’re going to visit the only possible source and see who’s got something to hide.”
“Why did the witches not want to show you their hands?” Vera asked.
“That’s hard to explain.” At Vera’s look of impatience, he added with a sigh, “You’re not going to like it.”
Vera tapped her foot, impatiently waiting for Kale to get on with it.
“When someone tries to deceive me, I see it manifested as black marks on their hands and arms. Just like Addamas’s tattoos. That’s why he got them, so I couldn’t see his deception. I always know when someone is trying to deceive me.”
“Always?”
“Always. Every time you planned to run away.”
Vera’s mind emptied. It was like being speechless but more complete. Her well of emotions was dry. She wasn’t sure how to react.
“I expected yelling,” Kale said
“Don’t worry, that’ll probably still happen. I think I’m too tired to process what you’re saying,” Vera informed him. “None of the witches had deception marks, I take it?”
“Nope. Surprisingly, none of them were hiding anything,” Kale answered.
