Comet Rising

by MarcyKate Connolly

  We stick to the darkened corners and deepest shadows. We still haven’t seen any windows, but there must be some at the back of the house. The paintings along the walls have gotten stranger, however. While the ones in the grand foyer depicted garden and pastoral scenes, these are of people.

  People with talents.

  They look old, perhaps from a time when talented folks were revered. We pass paintings of fire breathers, stone molders, shape shifters, green growers, and even a light singer like Lucas. They are vivid and lovely, but the eyes of each talented person are haunting, like they could see the future, could see what Lady Aisling had planned, and mourn the fate of their descendants.

  We tiptoe past several rooms, peeking into each just in case, until we find a staircase nearly hidden in a shadowed alcove. Cary and I waste no time stepping into the welcoming darkness.

  But something makes me pause on the first step—a rustling coming from the hall we just left. My heart leaps into my throat. Have we been found out already? I’ve been careful to keep my shadows secured, but perhaps Pearl and Noah ran into some guards. I put a finger to my lips and peek around the corner.

  And quickly shrink right back.

  I usher Cary down the stairs like a fire is at my back, desperate to get as far from that hallway as I can.

  Because I saw the familiar dirty white dress of Simone. She is the last person I wanted to encounter here in Zinnia. Lady Aisling must have recalled her from the hunt after she captured Lucas and Dar, otherwise, I feel certain Simone would still be prowling the woods of Parilla and Abbacho.

  I do not at all like the fact that she is roaming these halls instead.

  I stop when we reach a landing to check no footsteps follow us down the narrow stairs. All is quiet and, for one moment, I feel safe here, wrapped in my shadows with a friend at my side. It’s almost like the old days with Dar.

  Dar, who is trapped somewhere in the mansion.

  All that security drifts away like dust on a breeze.

  Cary whispers to me, “What did you see?”

  “Someone dangerous,” I say, the only reply I’m willing to give just yet. “Someone we need to avoid if we want to remain undetected.”

  I motion to Cary to check the hallway on the right first. It leads to a dead end and a locked door. Defeated, I turn away, but Cary touches my arm.

  “I’ve always hated locked doors,” she says. She pulls a pin from her hair and sticks it in the lock, jiggling, her ear bent close to the knob, until a soft click sounds. I suck in my breath sharply, praying no one is nearby to hear it. But our luck holds, and no guards appear to haul us away. Cary cracks the door open.

  At first, it appears to be a normal sitting room with a couch and a plush chair set around a low table. That is, until I see the long, iron-barred cages against the walls on either side. Each contains a cot with a blanket-cloaked figure sleeping on it. These are definitely not guest rooms; this is a prison.

  Cary frowns. “This is the strangest prison I’ve ever seen.”

  I shrug. “Perhaps Lady Aisling likes to interrogate people in elegant surroundings?”

  “Or maybe she just wants to rub in how comfortable she is sitting pretty on that chair and how uncomfortable those cells must be.”

  “Either way, we should free them. Anyone captured by Lady Aisling is a friend of ours.”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize how naive they sound. Simone was captured by Lady Aisling. So was that boy and all the other shells she has under her control.

  “But let’s be cautious. Don’t step out of my shadows.”

  We open the door a little wider so we can slip through. My hands shake as we tiptoe toward the nearest cage. It’s dark with only one lamp lit on the table in the middle. Shadows are thrown every which way, but they are as familiar and friendly to me as my own hands. As we get closer to the cage, the person inside turns over, mumbling in their sleep. I stop short when the person’s hair falls away from their face.

  It’s Miranda. Her dark hair, usually pulled back into a braid, is loose and unmistakable. Her skin is pale and sallow, and her eyes ringed by dark shadows, but there is no doubt it’s her. The other figure must be Alfred.

  At this moment, I should feel joy. We found them, after all. But all I feel is sick to my stomach.

  “Miranda!” Cary hisses at my side. The sleeping figure blinks. In that moment real fear eats its way into my heart. Her eyes are wrong. Very wrong. I take a step back, dragging Cary with me as Miranda sits up.

  Her eyes are entirely black, no whites or color at all.

  She’s under some sort of spell. What type and what kind of warning it might give to Lady Aisling, I do not want to stick around and find out.

  Cary tries to throw me off. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Look at her eyes. We can’t stay here. We’ll have to bring Noah back here to cancel it.”

  The sad prickling of failure creeps under my skin. This time Cary doesn’t fight me as I drag her from the room. Footsteps echo above us on the stairs, igniting fear in my veins. Hurriedly, we take the left-hand corridor, trying every door we pass. When one opens I duck inside, Cary at my heels. The door closes just as a dark green cloak sweeps across the landing before turning down the other hall.

  I settle into the corner by the door, crouched with Cary, trembling. Only when the footsteps march back up the stairs am I able to breathe normally again. Cary doesn’t say a word, but her wide eyes are a reflection of my own.

  Now that the footsteps have faded and my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, I take in our surroundings. It’s a tiny room, furnished much more sparsely than any other we’ve seen in this mansion. A small bed with plain gray linens is pushed against the wall. A tiny sliver of a window peeks out onto greenery at the top of the wall. It is unreachable even if we stood on the bed and no help in making our escape. In the opposite corner lies a closet where a slip of white gauzy fabric peeks out.

  Something about that fabric is very familiar. Cary looks at me strangely when I get to my feet but doesn’t say a word. I open the closet door, and my breath hitches in my chest. It is full of the same white gauzy dresses in varying states of dirtiness and disarray.

  It’s the same dress Simone always wears. This room belongs to her.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Though my brain insists I should be scared, curiosity gets the better of me. I examine the rest of Simone’s room. I run my hand under the mattress—it’s where I’d hide anything special to me—and find something thin and papery. I tug it out carefully.

  It’s a piece of paper, folded and unfolded many times over judging by the creases. I open it gingerly, not wanting it to rip.

  Repeated enough times to fill the entire paper is a short list of names and places.

  Simone Casares.

  Parilla, Village of Wren.

  Viktor and Romana Casares.

  Violet Casares. Josef Casares.

  Sorrow sinks into my skin as I fold the paper and replace it under the mattress. That must be the sum of Simone’s past, or at least what she can remember of it. Written over and over as though that could imprint it on her memory. What did Lady Aisling do to make her need to do that? Is it a side effect of her magic or did the memory stealer we met have a hand in it? I shudder. While I don’t miss my parents as much as I probably should, forgetting them entirely is not a thing I’d ever want to do. Like it or not, they’re a part of how I became me, as much as my shadow weaving.

  I hope when all this over, we will be able to find a way to help Simone, and the other shells too. The more I learn about her, the harder it is to leave her behind in this prison. But right now, she’s working for the enemy. And while Noah may be able to reverse any spell, from what Dar said about Lady Aisling’s talent, when it goes wrong it leaves damage behind. It may be caused by magic, but can canceling t
hat magic fix it? I don’t know the answer, and it’s too risky to try while Lucas and Dar and many others are still waiting to be rescued.

  “What was that?” Cary asks, breaking into my thoughts. For a moment, I almost forgot she was here.

  “A cry for help.”

  “Someone you know?” She touches my arm, and I shrug.

  “Only a little.”

  “Then we’ll help them too. After Lucas and Doyle.”

  I smile faintly. “Thank you. But you’re right. We must focus on your brother and our friends first.”

  With my shadows secured anew, we venture out into the hallway, a dark smudge on the walls, and make our way back upstairs with hearts a little heavier than they were before. But before we make it halfway up the stairs a new shadow falls over us, blocking the light and the way forward. My heart seizes as the shadows of several small figures march in our direction.

  The shells are on the stairs.

  We run back down, but at the bottom, three more children I recognize as shells from the market yesterday exit the room holding Lucas’s parents.

  We’re trapped.

  With nowhere to hide on the stairs, they will be on top of us any second. Cary casts around for something she can use to defend herself while I drop my shadows and weave them into tangible ropes instead to keep the shells at bay. The children close in, blank faced, moving almost as one. Could Lady Aisling control all of them at once like she did Simone, or is that how they always function when they’re together? Without warning, they swarm us, though their expressions remain as frighteningly blank as ever. My shadow ropes snake through, catching some of them and constricting their arms to their sides, then tying them off in a tight knot. The shells struggle, but my ropes are strong and don’t loosen an inch. But when I turn around to face the ones Cary has been holding off, I realize how quiet it has become.

  Cary is gone, as are two of the shells.

  Shock tears through me. I have no idea where they’ve taken her. She isn’t talented; Lady Aisling won’t want her for her garden. And the only other prisoners we’ve seen were right here. Frantically, I search every room with an open door and listen to the ones I can’t unlock. There is no trace of her. None at all.

  I race up the stairs, my shadows trailing after me like chains weighing me down. My breath is shallow and tight, and my hands sweat, making it difficult to grip the railing.

  When I reach the top, there is no one in sight.

  I fall to my knees in the alcove, hot tears sliding over my face and silent sobs racking my chest. Another friend lost, and all because I couldn’t help her.

  A sudden burst of terror sends me back to my feet.

  Pearl. Noah. I need to make sure they’re safe.

  I duck and weave back the way we came, leapfrogging from shadow to shadow until I’m in the entryway where we left Noah and Pearl. There’s no sign of them, though I hear the echo of voices elsewhere in the mansion. I head down the hallway our friends took. It is brighter than the one we chose.

  Up ahead there are windows. And beyond the glass, green.

  The Garden of Souls. With any luck, Pearl and Noah are already canceling Lady Aisling’s spells and spiriting away her victims. For the first time today, a glimmer of hope rises in my heart.

  I make my way to a large room with whitewashed walls, marble columns, and huge glass doors that open onto the brilliant green of the garden. I slink along the walls, an unhinged shadow in a room full of bright hues and tones. The glass doors at the far end are cracked open, and I slip through, my pulse rising with every step.

  My first sight of the Garden of Souls sends shock seeping through my veins. I knew there’d be flowers, but I never anticipated the sheer size.

  They’re massive. Giant versions of the familiar flowers I’ve seen in other gardens. No wonder this one is famous: sunflowers that stand twenty feet high, roses with enormous blossoms as big as my head, and stems as thick as a grown man’s forearm. It is beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

  I whimper. Lady Aisling’s dangerous powers have not been exaggerated enough.

  Please, please don’t let one of these be Lucas or Dar. Not yet.

  After checking for guards and shells, I cautiously step out onto the garden path. It winds in both directions, curling around beds of flowers and the odd wrought-iron bench and marble fountain. It is difficult to tell what might be hiding behind the next gigantic blossom. Near the outer hedges is a flower bed that must be the oldest part of the garden. It’s a huge patch of zinnias. The once vibrant petals sag on their buckling stems. Some of the leaves are browning, and all are curled in like arms clutching their middles.

  Cary was right—Lady Aisling’s garden is beginning to die.

  I back away from the wilting zinnias and head toward the main path. I don’t have far to go before I hit gold.

  There, in the midst of the garden, are Noah and Pearl. Relief floods my limbs like a cooling balm. They’re safe. For now.

  Noah places his hand on the petals of the nearest flower, and something magical happens, a sort of fizziness in the air. The petals—a gleaming white—begin to morph, pulling in closer to the bud as it sprouts eyes and a nose and a gasping mouth. Within seconds, the petals have transformed into a head and hair, and the leaves and stem are on their way to becoming legs and arms and a torso. Soon, a woman stands before us, gulping fresh air. Her hair is shockingly white, though she isn’t old at all, and her crystal blue eyes remind me of ice. When she breathes out, I could swear I see frost on her breath even though it’s a warm, sunny day.

  The woman stumbles forward and collides with Pearl. Pearl catches hold of her and immediately takes them away to safety. Noah waves when he sees me step out of the shadows.

  “I was afraid you might have been caught,” he says, then frowns. “Where’s Cary?”

  I quickly explain what happened, and his face falls a little more with every word.

  “I can’t believe it. She’s tougher than all of us, even without a talent.” His face is as pale as the moon that still shines overhead.

  “It’s my fault. I should never have taken my eyes off her. I’ll need you and Pearl to help get her back. I can’t do it alone.”

  Noah stands up straighter even though his lip quivers. “Definitely.” He scuffs his shoe in the dirt. “We’ve been trying to get through as many prisoners as possible, but there are just so many.”

  He sighs, and I realize he looks tired. I place a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you sit over here out of sight and rest for a minute until Pearl gets back? Have you had anything to eat?” When he shakes his head, I rummage in my bag for an apple and hand it over. He takes it gratefully.

  “How many have you and Pearl saved so far?” I ask. “Anyone we know?” The hope in my voice betrays me, but I’m sure if they’d found Lucas or Dar they’d still be here to help.

  Noah’s expression sours as he swallows a bite of apple. “Not enough, and no one we know yet.” He sweeps an arm around the garden. The flowers nearest to him are the only ones where they’ve made a real dent. “Every flower here is a talented person. At least, that’s our assumption. It’s going to take forever to change them all back.” He sighs. “We’ve saved maybe a dozen? But some of them were very old. It’s hard to tell their age until they become human again.”

  “Lady Aisling has been doing this for a long time. She uses magic to keep herself young. She may have only gone after children once she ran out of adults.”

  “No wonder there are so many of them here,” Noah says.

  “Dar is rather old too, since she’s her sister. But she was stuck in an ageless limbo as a shadow for most of that time; it’s not like she aged.”

  A sound pops behind us, and Pearl appears again, alone this time. “That one was so disoriented, it took me forever to calm her down and persuade her she was safe. I couldn
’t leave her alone until Mrs. Rodan joined us.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “What was wrong with her?”

  “Nothing really, just disorientation. She’s spent a huge part of her life as something other than human. What did you expect?”

  “Did you find out what talent she has at least? Anything useful?” I ask.

  “Maybe?” Pearl says. “She’s a frost finder. She can make ice and snow. Nearly froze my fingers off taking her to safety.”

  Noah snorts. “At least she wasn’t a fire breather.”

  Pearl glances around at the garden. “I’m sure there’s one or two of those around here somewhere.” She sighs. “All right, who’s next, Noah?”

  I relay the news about Cary to her while Noah swallows the last bite of apple and tosses away the core. The color is already returning to his cheeks.

  “I don’t think we should launch a rescue mission for Cary without talking to our parents,” Pearl says. “They might even be able to get her back themselves. It’s not like Cary is talented. She should be relatively safe.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. Lucas’s parents aren’t talented either, but Lady Aisling did something terrible to them.”

  “I’m with Pearl,” Noah says. “We should stick to our mission and then regroup with our parents. Besides, wouldn’t Cary want us to keep going so we can find her brother?”

  I swallow the angry retort on the tip of my tongue. He has a point. Cary would want us to find her brother and Lucas. “Fine. But we shouldn’t stay still for too long. Those shells might come hunting for us here any minute.”

  Noah stands, his brow forming a deep V of consideration. “How about that one?” He points to the first flower in a nearby row of enormous petunias. I wander over to get a closer look, while Pearl rests on the rock he had been sitting on.

  Noah stands in front of the flower, his hand about to touch the stem, when something rustles behind us. I barely have time to turn around before hearing a woman’s voice and the familiar snap of Pearl popping away to safety. My heart plummets into my feet, and I throw up my shadows.