Daughter of Chaos

by Sarah Rees Brennan

  Her smile twisted and hastily became a sneer, as if she feared she’d betrayed herself too much by showing a moment of happiness. “Why would you do that before I helped you?”

  “Because I believed you’d come through,” I said. “And you did.”

  I reached out across the remnants of the Dwy Ferch Geg and linked my little finger with Prudence’s, the way she and the Weird Sisters often did. Prudence raised her eyebrows, but she didn’t pull away.

  “We did it,” I told her. “We’re awesome. Come on, I’ll buy you a morning coffee at Dr. Cerberus’s.”

  Prudence didn’t say yes or no, but when I tugged her along, she followed me out of the alleyway and down the main street of Greendale.

  “To be clear, I will not date you, Sabrina,” said Prudence. “You are far too much trouble.”

  “I’m not actually interested.”

  Prudence sniffed. “Please, I’ve seen myself. Everybody’s a little interested.”

  She seemed mildly intrigued by the orange-painted storefront of Cerberus Books, complete with paintings of flames, hellhounds, and monkey demons, each window outlined in red. Prudence clearly liked her decor infernally inflected.

  When we walked in, Aunt Hilda bounced up and down as if she hadn’t just seen me half an hour ago. She gave me a hug, and then she eyed Prudence with slight suspicion. Aunt Hilda knew we hadn’t always been on the best terms.

  “Did you bring me my lunch?” she asked. “I forgot it, but I thought Zelda was getting it for me.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t know. Just thought I’d drop by.”

  “And I’m glad you’re here, love,” Aunt Hilda told me. “Business hasn’t been booming lately, what with that new tea shop.”

  “You know, Aunt Hilda, I don’t think you need to worry about that café anymore.”

  Aunt Hilda blinked interrogatively, and I shrugged.

  “I just have a feeling.” I sank my voice down to a whisper. “Those pop-up demons never last.”

  Prudence snickered against the rim of her coffee cup. Then she wandered away, cup in hand, to browse the shelves. Several of Greendale’s jocks, crowded around a table, followed her with their gaze. Prudence didn’t seem to notice. I guessed she was used to boys staring wherever she went.

  She reached up for a book on a high shelf, and her purple-painted nails only managed to brush the spine. She shrugged and clicked her fingers. I saw the book begin to sail off the shelf.

  Prudence was doing magic right in front of mortals.

  I started forward. At the same time, a hand reached up and snagged the book from the shelf.

  “Here you go, Prudence,” said Harvey.

  I took a hasty step back and exchanged a panicked glance with Aunt Hilda. I wasn’t ready to see Harvey. Certainly not with Prudence. She’d laugh at me, at him, and at any pain I betrayed.

  I wanted to hide behind the counter and Aunt Hilda’s skirts. At the same time, I wanted to run to Harvey. Even the back of his battered jacket, the overlong curl of his brown hair over his shirt collar, was familiar and dear to me. I missed being able to touch him as I used to, as easily as if his body were an extension of my own. I’d toy with his hair, or turn his face to me with my palm against his jaw and kiss him anytime I wanted. I wished I could tell him about banishing the demon, and hear him say, “Well done, ’Brina.”

  But he’d be horrified if I told him. I used to believe he’d always think everything I did was wonderful. I’d been wrong.

  It was for the best that he didn’t trust witches. It meant he’d stay away from them. I had to protect him from the dangers of my world.

  Prudence gestured the book away. “Now that you’ve touched the book, I don’t want it.”

  Harvey moved to put it back. “Okay.”

  “Oh, give it here,” Prudence snapped, snatching it from his hand. “Why are you following me around?”

  “I’m in the only bookstore in Greendale,” said Harvey. “Buying books.”

  He sounded amused. It had been too long since I’d seen Harvey smile. I inched forward, hiding behind one of the bookcases.

  His grin was faint, but it was there. When he smiled his shy smile, gold lights woke in his hazel eyes. They made me think of the golden lights at a festival, on the last golden day of summer. We went to a fair together months ago, and Harvey painted the faces of all the little kids.

  I remembered one kid in particular. A little boy had wanted stars drawn on his face, and the boy’s dad said that was too girly. The boy changed his answer to a mean robot. When the dad wasn’t looking, Harvey painted a star in the hollow of the boy’s palm, for him to hold in his hand like a secret.

  Harvey had closed the little boy’s fingers over the star and glanced up to catch me watching. For an instant his face was guilty and afraid, as though I might punish him. Then his gaze rested on me, the tension easing out of his shoulders, the gold creeping into his eyes. He didn’t smile often, but whenever he did, it was so sweet. That day, Harvey smiled like summer starlight. I smiled back, helplessly in love.

  My aunt Hilda told me a fairy tale about Selene, the witch queen of the moon. Selene loved a mortal and enchanted him to eternal sleep so she could always watch him, and he would never die.

  But he would never smile either.

  Harvey was holding up two books for Prudence’s inspection.

  “What is Rosemary’s Baby about?” Prudence asked suspiciously.

  “A lady named Rosemary has Satan’s baby,” said Harvey. “I think.”

  “What an honor for her,” Prudence murmured.

  Harvey shrugged. “Depends on your point of view, I guess.”

  I’d taken Prudence to school with me one day. She discovered Harvey’s ancestors were witch-hunters. Prudence’s sisters killed Tommy for that. Harvey hadn’t smiled the way he used to, boyish and summer sweet, since then. The dangers of my world from which I must protect Harvey definitely included Prudence. I swallowed, steeled myself, and darted up to Prudence, seizing her by the elbow and dragging her backward.

  “Come on, Prudence, we’ll be late for class! Uh, hello, Harvey.”

  His smile died, the color draining from his face. “Hi, Sabrina.”

  I realized, with a sinking feeling, that he’d sounded far more relaxed talking to Prudence than he did speaking to me.

  “She’s a witch,” I said, glancing in Prudence’s direction. I couldn’t keep staring at him.

  “Yeah, I did somehow figure that out,” said Harvey. “I’m not stupid.”

  There was a cold, miserable edge to his voice on the last word.

  I bit my lip, hard enough that the ache stayed. “I didn’t mean that you were. Uh, Harvey, I’d love to stay and chat, but we’ve gotta go.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you have better places to be.”

  “Well, this social interaction should teach you never to approach me again,” Prudence remarked brightly. “It really couldn’t have gone any worse, could it?”

  Harvey elevated an eyebrow in her direction. “I don’t know. You didn’t kill me.”

  I didn’t know why Harvey was giving Prudence ideas. I dragged her to the door as she called back: “Next time, I probably will!”

  The jocks were already at the door, in a huddle. As we passed, one of them muttered: “Witch.”

  The word followed us like a shadow into the bright street. I wished, with a force that shocked me, that Nick were here to make me laugh. I was tired of feeling miserable.

  But Nick wasn’t here.

  “Did you hear what they called us?” I asked uneasily.

  Prudence didn’t turn a hair. “I hear that word all the time.”

  “You sure it’s that word you hear, and not, uh, a slightly different one?”

  Prudence shrugged. “I hear that one too. I like hearing both. They’re just words, and I’m a witch. I decide what they mean.”

  She strode in the direction of the Academy, book in hand. I’d have to give Aunt Hilda the money for it lat
er. I shrugged off my misgivings and followed Prudence. She was right. It was just a word. We’d banished the demon.

  “I’m not ashamed either.”

  “Could’ve fooled me, back there.”

  “I just don’t want … someone I love to think the worst of me,” I whispered. “I’m a witch, but I don’t want him to think I’m awful, or irredeemably bad.”

  She was silent as we entered the woods. Then, with morning birdsong in the bare trees, she reached out her hand and linked her little finger with mine. When I caught her eye, she smiled.

  “I am a bad witch,” said Prudence. “Why not try being one too, Sabrina?”

  We went through the doors of the Academy laughing. Nick approached, his face brightening at the sight of us. The whole situation was strange and different, but it felt as good as it did to be in Baxter High with my mortal friends. We’d succeeded, and now we could be happy.

  I lifted my hand for a high five. Nick gave me one, then caught his lip between his teeth and linked his fingers with mine.

  I paused. He winked. I let him hold my hand.

  “What’s going on, Spellman?”

  “We banished the bad-luck spirit!”

  “Congratulations, ladies,” said Nick easily.

  He didn’t ask why he hadn’t been invited, or act sulky. He sounded genuinely admiring. It wasn’t “Well done, ’Brina,” but … I had to admit, I liked this too. I beamed up at Nick.

  He smiled and looked away, running his free hand along the base of the statue of Satan. He made his fingers walk along the stone, then back again.

  “By the way.” His voice sank, hushed and intimate. “I wanted to tell you … I don’t have any girlfriends right now.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Uh. How many are you looking for?”

  Nick looked up. For a moment I felt like I was falling into his dark, dark eyes.

  “Just one,” he murmured.

  “Well,” I said. “That’s, uh. That’s good to know.”

  The sparks of another smile were kindling on Nick’s mouth. This one didn’t look like a smirk at all. “Is it? Since you banished the luck demon, I guess you’re free after class. Can we cash in that rain check and go see the mermaids?’

  Right. I’d forgotten the brilliant skinny-dipping idea Nick had mentioned the other day.

  I pulled my hand out of his. “Honestly, I’m kind of tired. I was planning to go home after class. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, guys. Thanks again, Prudence.”

  I fled the halls of the Academy.

  Honestly, the luck demon had been a good distraction from my romantic woes and the new doubts weighing on me lately. I’d only seen Harvey for an instant today, but the sight of his stricken face wouldn’t leave my mind. How could I long to laugh with Nick? What kind of person would I be, to turn away from true love and go for some wicked fling?

  I didn’t want to make any more mistakes this year. I didn’t even know who I was any longer.

  Maybe I didn’t need a luck spirit to curse me. I’d been born with the bad luck to be torn between worlds. Being torn hurt. I’d always miss one world, even if I had the other.

  The bells rang in Harvey’s head, jangling as the shop doors closed behind Sabrina and Prudence. He looked at the place where she’d stood, so bright with her red coat the color of a robin’s breast. He’d forgotten how small she was, though she never seemed fragile. She used to tease him about being so much taller than her.

  “Stay safe; I worry about you up there,” she’d say, fiddling with his shirt buttons, then tugging him toward her. “Better yet, come down here and kiss me.”

  He sighed, turned away, and went to buy the books. Roz had talked about The Stepford Wives and Rosemary’s Baby. Even if she didn’t want to be his friend anymore, he wanted to read them. Every time he read a book Roz recommended, the world reshaped itself in his mind.

  Hilda Spellman gave him a staff discount on the books. He’d always thought she was the sweetest lady.

  “I still think you’re the one for her, love.” She patted his hand. “I’m rooting for you two.”

  Sabrina had barely spoken to him, she was in such a hurry to get to her Invisible Academy. It was pretty pointless to root for Harvey when he’d been outclassed by actual classes, but he tugged a hand through his hair so Hilda wouldn’t see his face, and mumbled a thanks.

  The morning had started out sunny, but he saw through the window that there were storm clouds gathering in the sky, gray and seething. There was the feeling of a storm fermenting inside the café. Billy and his friends were standing in the doorway, apparently having a conference. When Harvey passed them, he heard the whisper “Everyone’s saying …”

  Harvey didn’t care what everyone was saying. He wished he could leave that creeping darkness behind him in the bookstore. But he felt like he carried the dark with him, a storm cloud in his chest, its gray tendrils wrapping around his heart.

  He headed out of town, toward Sweetwater River, but no matter how long he stood by the riverside, he couldn’t make himself cross the bridge.

  When he turned away from the bridge, Billy had followed him. This time he was alone.

  “What?” Harvey snarled. “Come here to pick on me again?”

  “Maybe we don’t have to beat you,” suggested Billy. “Maybe you can join us. We’re gathering up a bunch of guys against the threat.”

  Harvey shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He pushed past Billy, following his own footsteps in the snow. He was literally walking in circles.

  “Come on, Kinkle,” said Billy. “You want to be a loser your whole life? Pick the right side. You’re not a freak like Susie Putnam—”

  He didn’t finish his sentence. Harvey finished it for him. He whirled around and hit Billy Marlin in the face, so hard Billy staggered and fell into a snowdrift. Billy sputtered, indignant and amazed, one hand clapped over his nose. Blood was spurting between his fingers, a crimson splash against the white snow.

  Harvey breathed hard, dizzy with rage and shock. “I don’t like to fight. But I will.”

  Billy gurgled what seemed to be a protest. The sight of him bleeding made Harvey feel sick. But the shadowy knot of emotions in his chest said to keep hitting Billy, until Billy was sorry, until Harvey felt better.

  He didn’t get sick or hit Billy. He took a step so he was towering over Billy, and watched Billy scramble away.

  “Say what you want about me,” Harvey said contemptuously. “Leave Susie alone. Or I’ll knock you on your ass again.”

  When he got home, he sat on his porch steps in the cold, letting out huge puffs of air that looked like smoke, as though Harvey were a dragon having a panic attack. What was he doing? He didn’t hit people.

  He hoped he wouldn’t actually have a panic attack. Those happened occasionally. The other kids at school always laughed, except for Sabrina, Susie, and Roz.

  Harvey sat there trying not to freak out until he heard the sound of Mrs. Link scurrying across the snow and lifted his head.

  “I wasn’t fighting!” he exclaimed.

  Harvey wasn’t a skilled deceiver.

  Mrs. Link was wearing no scarf today. Her hair blew in the wind like a huge cloud over her head. “It’d be good for you to get into a brawl.”

  “Huh,” said Harvey.

  She seemed distracted, eyes vaguely scanning the trees and mountains beyond. “Your dad’s always saying what a scaredy-cat you are. You could prove him wrong, eh?”

  “I’m not a coward,” Harvey said sharply.

  Mrs. Link nodded encouragement. “There’s a big fight coming,” she murmured as she turned away. “With the witches.”

  Harvey froze. “Did you say witches?”

  Mrs. Link looked at him over her shoulder. Her gaze seemed to focus for the first time. “No, dear,” she told Harvey. “Why would I say that?”

  Harvey stayed on the steps, breathing raggedly, until he heard the cat meow.

  It
was Sabrina’s cat, Salem, the stray she’d found in the orchard this fall. Harvey watched as the little thing climbed daintily up his porch steps.

  His knuckles had split from the force of the blow, so his hand stung when he reached out to scratch between Salem’s ears.

  “Hi, kitty, kitty,” he murmured. “Hey, buddy. What are you doing here?”

  He stroked the soft black fur, mood softening as if he was the one being soothed. He’d always wanted a puppy.

  When Harvey’s hand briefly stilled, Salem meowed, rubbing his chin against Harvey’s fingers. Harvey laughed and petted the cat some more.

  “Kitty cat,” murmured Harvey. “Let’s be friends. You’re sweet.”

  “I’m not,” said Nick, leaning against the other side of the porch, dark eyes glinting between the wooden rails.

  Harvey started, jostling the cat.

  “I have something to ask you,” Nick continued. “I didn’t know you were entertaining a spy.”

  Harvey laughed. “The cat? You’re kidding.”

  “Am I?”

  Harvey had a sudden feeling of misgiving.

  Nick smirked, raised an eyebrow in Salem’s direction, then strolled over and took a seat on the lowest of the icy porch steps, leaning back on his elbows. Nick wasn’t unlike a cat, in that he constantly turned up uninvited wishing to be fed, and seemed really happy when he was being a jerk.

  Harvey decided Nick was definitely joking around.

  “One of your popes, Gregory the Ninth, condemned the black cat as an incarnation of Satan,” Nick observed.

  Harvey stared at the cat. “Are you Satan?”

  “Obviously he’s not Satan,” said Nick. “Why are you always accusing everyone of being Satan? I was only telling you an interesting historical fact.”

  Harvey relaxed. “Okay, nerd.”

  Nick took this as encouragement to expand. “Our anti-pope at the time, Mephistophelian the Fifth, and Pope Gregory were rivals. The anti-pope countered by cursing Europe with the Black Plague.”

  Nick’s face lit up when he was discussing books, the same way Sabrina’s and Roz’s did when they talked about justice, or Sabrina about horror movies, or Tommy about football, or Susie about Christmas and costumes. Love did that, changing faces and conversations, like sunlight turning snow to silver.