Beyond the Ruby Veil

by Mara Fitzgerald

  But nothing is happening. I don’t feel any different.

  Maybe I just need more.

  My papá was barely able to put up a fight the first time. The second time, he’s even weaker. The last of his eye goes down my throat, and I nearly choke on it. I wait to feel my new powers.

  And still, nothing is happening.

  No.

  This will work.

  I have to get magic. I have to get rid of the omens on my skin. They can’t spread any farther. They won’t.

  I march out of the catacombs and look around the streets. They’re silent and desolate. Everyone who’s left must be in the cathedral already, waiting for me.

  I walk desperately. I can barely stay on my feet, and my stomach is churning, but I have to stay on my feet.

  I turn a corner, and then I spot a flash of something in an alley.

  A person.

  I run for them. I don’t care who they are. I need their eyes.

  I lunge into the alley, grabbing for the shadowy figure. They yelp, startled, and try to pull away.

  I stop short.

  “Paola?” I whisper.

  She’s no longer wearing the gray servant’s uniform of the House of Ragno. Her clothes are rumpled and dirty, and even after only three days, she looks shrunken and gaunt. But I’d recognize my nursemaid anywhere, of course.

  Her eyes are wide. It takes me a long moment to realize that she doesn’t seem to recognize me.

  “Em-Emanuela?” she says.

  “They dismissed you,” I say. “My family.”

  She’s looking at my dress. She’s looking at the blood all over my hands.

  “How did you survive?” I say.

  A servant like her—fired in disgrace—would have nowhere to go. Servants are born into the house they serve, and anyway, no one would want a servant who helped her charge defy the watercrea’s laws.

  “That’s…” she says. “That’s not important. Is that… is that your blood?”

  I try to explain. I find that I can’t. I find that, all of a sudden, I’m swaying on my feet.

  Paola takes my shoulders. She pulls me deeper into the alley, and I sink down to the cobblestone. I lean back against the wall and close my eyes.

  “It didn’t work,” I whisper.

  She’s produced a handkerchief out of nowhere. She’s wiping at the blood on my face, as if one little handkerchief is going to make any difference.

  “You shouldn’t even be near me.” I don’t open my eyes. “Everyone else in the city wants me dead.”

  “Well,” she says, “everyone else is useless. I’ve heard what they’re saying about you. They’re saying that you’re going to destroy the city. They’re saying that you found a demon in the catacombs and made a pact with it. And they’re saying that you’re the one who hurt Alessandro, which is obviously just nonsense. It’s just the panicked lies of terrified people.”

  “So what’s the truth, then?” I say.

  She stops wiping my face. She reaches out and strokes my hair, without hesitation, like she doesn’t notice all the blood and grime.

  “You’re a girl who wants to live,” she says.

  She’s right. I want to do more. Be more. And I want to live. I want to live forever.

  And everyone else keeps trying to stop me.

  Paola sighs. “You know, it’s a blessing to make it as long as I have. But I’ve lost so many to the tower. When the watercrea died, for a moment, I thought—I thought about how amazing it would be if we could find another way. If we could make things better. And I thought if anyone could do it, it was you. I know how hard you tried. Even if it seems like no one else knows, I do.”

  She hesitates. I feel her plucking at my wet gown.

  “Where…” she says. “Where is this blood coming from?”

  I open my eyes.

  “I’ll try again,” I say.

  “What?” she says. “How?”

  I turn to her. She’s so pale. She looks tired and thirsty, and I open my mouth to explain.

  And then I blink.

  And I don’t see Paola anymore. All I see is blood.

  I see the spiderwebbing veins in her head. I see the blood flowing to her brain and her eyes and her nose. I see her pulse thrumming in her neck. It’s horrifying. It’s beautiful.

  The ritual did work.

  It actually worked.

  And then, every single one of Paola’s veins burst open. I blink again, and I can barely see. There’s blood in my eyes. It’s all over my face and in my mouth.

  Paola’s head is gone. It’s just… gone. Her body collapses in a heap, and a moment later, it’s gone, too. I’m left sitting next to a crumpled dress in a pool of blood.

  No.

  I pick up the dress. It’s soaked and dripping. I can’t quite make myself understand what it means.

  I didn’t do that. It was the magic.

  The magic.

  I drop the gray dress, and I scramble to pull up my skirts and look at my hip. They’re gone. My omens are gone. For the first time in ten years, I’m unmarked.

  I’m free. I’m alive.

  I leap to my feet. But then I look at the spot that used to be Paola.

  I did this to her. The magic and I did this together.

  I retch and cover my mouth, but I force myself to swallow it back down. Paola believed in me. She wouldn’t want me to stop just because she was reduced to… this.

  So I won’t stop. I’ll control the magic better next time. I know I can.

  I turn away. I pick up my skirts and run across the cobblestone.

  I have a city to save.

  NINETEEN

  THE STREETS ARE EMPTY AND THE BLACK MANORS ARE silent as I run to the House of Morandi. The watercrea’s gown is still lying there, a splash of red on the dark stone. I kick aside the prayer candles to reach it. I strip off my clothes and pull on hers, barely even noticing the dark blood dried on the back. The silk is soft and luxurious. It still smells like her rosy perfume, but that doesn’t bother me. She can’t touch me now.

  The skirts are dreadfully long, of course, so I tie them off to one side in an artful knot. Everyone can enjoy the sight of my legs. I have nothing to hide.

  I make my way down the street. I run up the steps to the cathedral and barge through the doors.

  The whole city is supposed to be here, but it feels so empty. The only Occhians left are clustered in the front pews, buzzing and chattering and ready for the trial. At the crack of the chamber doors, they startle and turn around. When they see me coming, unchained and wearing her red gown, their rage and despair turns into fear. It’s so strong I can taste it.

  I blink, and the shadowy people disappear. The only thing I can see is their blood. I blink again, and the people come back.

  I can control it, I tell myself.

  “You all look surprised to see me like this,” I say loudly. “You shouldn’t be. It’s just like I told you. I’m untouchable, and with the watercrea gone, you’re going to be free.”

  I let silence reign as I glide to the altar. I whirl around.

  “You’re welcome,” I say.

  I turn my gaze to the red carpet that stretches down the aisle. The last time I was here, someone else used her magic to drag me across it. That will never happen again.

  I can’t tell if the rest of my family is here. Everybody is hunched and terrified. They’re slowly sinking down to hide behind their pews.

  “Look at me,” I snap.

  They freeze. For some reason, I notice suddenly, they’ve filled the wooden benches with bundles of things. There are bags of clothes and rolled-up tapestries and even old, precious paintings—the type of family heirlooms an Occhian family would never remove from their home.

  “I…” I falter for a moment, bewildered. “I’m going to bring back our water. Come with me to the underground well and—”

  “No.”

  The voice comes from the first pew. And then its owner is stepping into the ai
sle.

  Ale.

  I don’t know why I’m so surprised to see him. Everyone else left in Occhia is here, after all.

  There’s a fresh bandage around his eye. He’s wearing an enormous dark jacket with ivy leaves embroidered on the collar that I recognize instantly as his papá’s. There’s a sack over Ale’s shoulder. It looks like it’s full of books.

  “No?” I say.

  Ale lifts his chin. He swallows hard. “We’re leaving.” He says it so quietly I almost miss it.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Ale,” I say. “Not until I—”

  “We’re leaving,” he says. “All of us here. We’re going…”

  He hesitates. He glances into the pew at his mamma. She nods encouragingly.

  “We’re going to another city,” he says.

  I have no idea what to say. I can’t comprehend the fact that Ale is standing in front of me and speaking for the whole of our people.

  “You’re going to Iris?” I say.

  “No,” he says. “Somewhere else. We’re going to ask them for help. There’s so few of us now. We won’t be a burden.”

  It takes me a long moment to understand what he means.

  “You’re just going to submit to life in another city,” I say. “With another watercrea. You’re going to give up your blood to her.”

  “It’s—it’s better than dying,” he whispers.

  “How are you going to get through the catacombs?” I say. “They’re dangerous.”

  He reaches into his pocket and holds something up. His hands are shaking.

  It’s the map of the eight cities and the paths between them. I’m supposed to have the map. It was in my pocket.

  It only takes a moment for me to figure out exactly when he took it. After Verene and I fought in the catacombs, and I passed out, I woke up in his lap. I thought that was because he was taking care of me.

  I blink furiously, and I see his blood.

  I look away quickly. My eyes sweep the silent faces gathered in front of me.

  “So you all want to go back to the way it was,” I say. “You want to never have quite enough water for comfort. You want to live your whole lives in fear of your first omen. You want to die before you even get to see your children grow up. Is that what you want?”

  Silence.

  “No,” I say. “You want things to be worse. Think about it. No one has crossed between the eight cities in a thousand years. Do you really think the people on the other side will accept you? Do you think you’ll be able to get a home just like the one you have here? The people across the veil don’t know you. They don’t care about you. They don’t have a place for you. But they’ll certainly want to take your blood.”

  Nobody is even looking at me. Ale is staring determinedly at his feet.

  “Are you really going to follow him?” I gesture at Ale. “Look at him. He can’t defend you. He’s not even defending you now.”

  “Emanuela,” Ale whispers to the floor.

  “What?” I say.

  “Just…” he says.

  Everybody is looking at him now. Ale hates it when everyone looks at him. He’s trembling so hard that I can see it from here.

  “What, Alessandro?” I say. “Tell them why I’m wrong. Tell them why they should trust you.”

  He tries to say something, but he can’t get the words out. There are tears welling up in his eye.

  He’s terrified. He can’t do this. He knows he can’t do this. And I can see the way people are watching at him. Like maybe they’re starting to doubt.

  I’m burning up inside with something ugly and victorious. This is who Ale is without me. This is going to be what the rest of his life is like—small and pitiful and meaningless.

  “Anyway,” I say, “I’m going to bring back our water. And then, I’m going to bring us more. Forever. And I’m going to do it without ever putting any of you in a tower again.”

  The silence is profound. I can tell that no one believes me. But they will.

  I start forward. “Come with me to the—”

  “We’re not going anywhere with you.”

  I stop. Ale’s mamma has joined him in the aisle. She faces me and draws herself up to her full, impressive height. Even in the dim cathedral light, her face pale and drained, she’s very beautiful. Once or twice in my life, I’ve looked at her and imagined my children having her elegant cheekbones.

  “You shameful, vile creature,” she says. “You’ve destroyed our whole city. And you’ve destroyed him.”

  “Mamma—” Ale whispers.

  “I never wanted him to marry you,” she says. “Never. Not from the moment that slimy father of yours approached us.”

  At the mention of my papá, my stomach turns, sudden and violent.

  “Alessandro was so devoted to you,” his mamma says. “He has so much love in his heart. And you… you have nothing at all.”

  I blink, and I see her blood.

  “This is how you repay him for giving his life to you?” she says. “You drag him into the catacombs and—and mutilate him? Look at him. He’s ruined.”

  I glance back to see Ale’s hand dart to the bandage over his eye. The hurt on his face is unmistakable.

  “Are you done?” I say. “Because I’d like to move on to saving us all—”

  “Do not speak to me that way,” she says, advancing on me. “You’re not our ruler.”

  “Don’t come any closer,” I say.

  “You will never be our ruler,” she says. “You don’t have any power. You don’t have any magic. You’re just a soulless coward who thinks she’s an exception to every—”

  I blink.

  And the cathedral is full of screams.

  I stumble back, blinking frantically.

  Ale’s mamma is no longer standing in front of me. She no longer exists. She’s just blood and guts and skin, splattered all over the aisle and everyone nearby.

  No. I was just going to control her blood. Just a little bit. I was going to show everyone why they should listen to me.

  I look at Ale, and he looks at me. Her blood is all over his face.

  And then people are pouring out of the pews. They fill up the aisle and scramble for the chamber doors.

  They’re running away.

  They don’t realize what they’re doing. I’m going to save them. They need me.

  I race after them. I catch up to a woman and grab the back of her dress.

  And then, all I see is blood.

  The woman is gone. I don’t know where she went. I try to find someone else, and I can’t find anything but blood.

  There’s so much blood.

  There’s too much blood.

  And then there’s nothing at all.

  I open my eyes, and I see the arches of the cathedral ceiling high above. I sit up, and my head spins. There’s a sore spot on the back. I think I fainted.

  It smells sickly and sweet. It’s so dark and so quiet. I don’t know where everyone is, but I vaguely remember them running away from me. It seems my encounter with them didn’t go quite as I’d hoped.

  Ale.

  I leap to my feet.

  They must be following Ale out to the catacombs. I have to stop them. I have to show them that I really can bring back the water.

  I turn around, and I trip over something.

  It’s a pair of pants, soaked in blood and almost unrecognizable as clothing. I follow the blood down the aisle, trying to find the place where it ends. But it’s not ending. It’s stretching on and on and on.

  Slowly, I lift my eyes.

  The double doors at the front of the cathedral are still closed. Scattered all over the aisle and in the pews are piles of bloody, abandoned clothes.

  For a very long moment, I can’t make myself comprehend it. My people were running away from me. It almost looks like they all died in here. But that’s not possible.

  I didn’t mean to kill them. So they can’t be dead.

  Then I taste the bloo
d in the air, and it hits me all at once.

  I run, bursting out the cathedral doors. I stumble down the steps.

  Everyone in my city was in there. Ale was in there. They can’t be dead.

  I was going to save them.

  I’m alone in the cathedral square, underneath the bright red veil. All around me, the black manors are empty and silent. I’ve never heard a silence like this. It makes even my breath seem so loud. Too loud. It’s coming so fast, but I can’t seem to get any of it into my lungs.

  They can’t be dead. This is my city. These are my people. One little dose of magic can’t possibly be enough to kill them all so quickly.

  I hear a noise behind me and turn, but everything goes black. I scream.

  “Emanuela! Emanuela!”

  Somebody is wrestling with me.

  “It’s a blindfold,” he says. “I’m just blindfolding you. That’s all.”

  I break out of his grip and stumble back. I touch the fabric over my eyes.

  “Ale,” I whisper.

  He’s still here. I can’t see him, but I can feel his presence.

  I don’t know how he could have possibly survived.

  “Ale,” I say. “I…”

  The truth of it is sinking in, all at once.

  “I can’t control it,” I say. “Why can’t I control it?”

  Nothing. But he’s still there. I know he is. I can feel him looking at me.

  “Ale,” I say.

  “I’m going to touch you again,” he says.

  “All—all right,” I stammer.

  And a moment later, I’m in his arms. We’re moving, but I don’t know where we’re going. I don’t know what’s happening. But I don’t have it in me to worry about it. There’s only one thing I can think about.

  I can’t control it.

  I wanted the most powerful magic I could have. But it’s more powerful than me.

  I smell the catacombs when we descend into them—dust and stale air. Ale gently sets me on the ground. I lie there on my side, curled up. The taste of blood is all in my mouth and throat, and I don’t know if it’s ever going to come out.

  I know Ale is still nearby, and it’s the only thing that brings me comfort. Right now, I feel like I could lie here forever, hiding. All I want to do is hide.