The Girl of Hawthorn and Glass

by Adan Jerreat-Poole

  Murmuring filled the room, echoing off the smooth, gleaming walls.

  “No one has denied that you have done well, Circinae. You will be rewarded for her success. Perhaps we should admit you into the third ring of the Coven, where you might better serve your people.”

  “I would be honoured, my lords.”

  Eli knew the negotiations were coming to a close. As Eli’s handler, Circinae was the only person who could order Eli on missions, and so the lords had to bargain with her, granting her more power as their reliance on Eli grew.

  “The details are here.” A scrap of crimson velvet materialized in Eli’s hand.

  This was new, but Circinae took it in stride. “I will read it to you,” she said, as if Eli could not read. It was a secret they kept from the Coven.

  “No. This is for the weapon alone. It will speak to her mind. These secrets will only be yours when you have been inducted into the third ring.”

  Eli could almost feel the rage emanating from Circinae’s body. It was unheard of for the Coven to give an assignment directly to an assassin.

  “Very well, my lords.”

  The scrap of fabric twisted in her palm as Eli let it read itself to her mind, maintaining the illusion of illiteracy.

  She frowned. Opened her mouth. Paused.

  “May I speak, my lords?”

  Circinae wheeled around and stared at her in shock and horror. Tools were forbidden from speaking in the inner sanctum of the Coven.

  But tools were also forbidden from reading. Rules had already been broken. Eli felt her heart jump at this act of daring, wondering how much she would suffer for it.

  “The tool may ask one question. Consider this additional payment for your services, Circinae.”

  Mollified at being addressed directly, Circinae nodded but shot Eli a vicious look. Her bargaining power was being halved by Eli’s request.

  “Where is the rest of the report? This appears incomplete.”

  Circinae gasped at the audacity of the question that implied error or weakness. But Eli had never received only a name before. Where were the eyelashes, the fingernail, the taste of sweat? Names could be stolen, discarded, or lost — only the signature of flesh would ensure a successful mission.

  “The report is complete. Unless you are incapable of performing this task without additional information?” The voice was mild, but the question was venomous and sharp, and directed at Eli rather than her mother.

  “No, my lords. This will suffice.” To be safe, Eli bent into a formal bow again.

  “Then you are dismissed.”

  Eli was sent out of the chamber while Circinae completed the negotiation.

  Outside, the sky was striped purple and green, and Eli sat on the steps and stared up at the beauty of the clouds. She wanted to go back to the river, to lie down on soft moss with Kite and watch the clouds turn into fantastical creatures and ships.

  The daydream ended with Circinae’s arrival. Eli tensed. Her outburst had ruined Circinae’s bargaining. She waited for her punishment.

  To her surprise, Circinae said nothing, only stared into her daughter’s crocodile eyes thoughtfully, made a soft sound to herself, and then stepped away. “You are to leave immediately,” she said, looking out at the bustling city streets.

  She turned back to Eli and brushed her palm against Eli’s cheek. Eli froze. Circinae repeated the words she always said before a mission: “My glory is your glory. Your victory is my victory. You are a tool and you have value. The Coven will honour us for our service.”

  “Your glory is my glory,” said Eli dutifully. “My victory is your victory. I am a tool and I have value. The Coven will honour us for our service.”

  “Remember,” Circinae said suddenly, her pupils like flames in the whites of her eyes, “remember that I taught you how to read.”

  Then she was gone. Eli was alone, the fading warmth of Circinae’s hand on her cheek, a name burned into her memory:

  Virginia White.

  Six

  Eli was unravelling.

  She could feel the fear and confusion stir in her body like leaves in the fall. His glasses askew, one arm broken —

  She had a mission. That should have been enough. It had been a long time since she felt this uncertain, and the feeling left her adrift, lonely and lost on the blinding steps. Her heart thudded in her chest.

  The mission. The name. That was her mark. All she had to do was what she did best. And then she could return to her moss bed, frolic with Kite under the river, parry words and wits with Circinae, and prepare for the next job. Gather knowledge and grow strong. Increase her value.

  She’d always been given time to rest before. Time to heal, to train.

  She wanted a black coffee more than anything else in the worlds.

  Eli shook her head and then tied her hair back. This wasn’t the time for questions. They never give you time to question, a voice in her head reminded her. She dug her nails into her palm and took a deep breath in. Then out. You’re not a child anymore, and this isn’t a fairytale. This is your life. You have accepted it.

  It was time.

  Again.

  Eli unfolded the glamour that Circinae had left on the steps. She must have finished knitting it while Eli was with Kite. She slid it over her skin, the magic sticky and hot. A sensation like pins and needles tingled along her limbs as she settled into it. This glamour made her appear shorter and curvier, with longer hair and dark eyes, dressed in greys and blacks. Heavy eyeliner. Goth chic. The only concession Circinae had made was keeping her glasses as they were. Eli loved her frames.

  She opened her body to the universe, to the winds that blew between worlds. The shifting, glittering tunnel of dark appeared before her. She was like an ant on a giant pile of black sand. Closing her eyes, clutching the pendant that hung around her throat, Eli stepped into the heart of the wild.

  Eli stumbled out of the Vortex and fell onto the cement in a heap, hair tangled and matted. It had been wilder this time, tearing at her hair and clothes, trying to shake her loose. She had almost been thrust out several times. She wondered what would have happened if it had spat her out earlier — would she have fallen up or down? Could a girl made of spiderweb and glass break like a human of flesh and bone? She felt the beginning of bruises on her knees and elbows and suspected the answer was yes.

  “Are you okay?”

  Eli looked up. Someone was looking down at her. They were Black with short, spiky purple hair and golden-brown eyes. Eli was stunned. She wasn’t supposed to be noticed by humans.

  The frost blade bit into her thigh. She winced. “Bad girl,” she muttered, adjusting the hilt.

  “What?” They were wearing black skinny jeans and a leather jacket. Both ears were covered in silver earrings that caught the light. Eli had a sudden urge to bite the highest ring.

  “I said I’m fine.” Eli stood up and wiped the dirt off her torn jeans. A hand reached over and brushed some gravel off her shoulder. Eli flinched.

  “Sorry! Just trying to help.” Their eyes were still watching her. Eli wondered if her lipstick was smudged or if there were vulture feathers in her hair.

  “I don’t need your help,” Eli snapped. She should have flashed a smile, made some excuse, and walked away, but she felt off her game.

  And the purple spikes reminded her of a sea urchin.

  “Sorry,” they repeated. They were looking at her with curiosity, eyes mapping the smudged glasses and dirty fingernails, the bruised knee and ripped jeans. Their look was electric. Eli felt the hair on her arms stand up. She wasn’t used to being stared at. She was a shadow, a nightmare, death in dark corners. She was a daughter of the Coven.

  “It’s fine,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  The thorn blade pricked through her jeans. Eli clenched her jaw.

  “You hurt? You get hit by a car or something?”

  “Something like that. I’m okay.”

  They didn’t leave. They smelled lik
e flower petals and gasoline. The spikes reminded her of home.

  “Where you headed? I can give you a ride.”

  That’s when Eli noticed the bike: a gleaming black-and-chrome motorcycle with thick, muscular wheels. Wide leather seats. The green outline of a mermaid spray-painted on the fender.

  “Is that yours?” Eli wanted to touch it.

  Purple Hair grinned. “Yep. And I have a spare helmet.”

  “Why are you offering to help me?” No one helped anyone for free. There was always a cost. Unconsciously, Eli touched the pendant that hung around her neck.

  The stranger shrugged. “You seem lost. And you look familiar — did we meet at Pride last year?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I’ve definitely seen you around town. I’m Tav.” Tav tugged off a leather glove and held out their hand.

  She shook Tav’s hand. Static electricity crackled where their fingers brushed against one another. Eli’s palm came away warm, a tendril of smoke curling into the air from the friction.

  What was happening? Could Tav feel it, too? If they did, they didn’t show it, just slid their glove back on in one fluid movement.

  “I don’t remember seeing you.” Eli curled her hand into a fist.

  “What? But I’m so memorable!” Tav threw on a look of mock horror. “Stunningly gorgeous, notorious bad boy. Or bad girl, depending on who you’re asking.” They winked at Eli. “This city doesn’t get people like me.”

  “This city doesn’t get people like me, either,” Eli murmured, head reeling from Tav’s introduction.

  “I kind of figured. You seem like a bit of a loner.”

  “I’m shy.”

  Tav raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem shy. Pissed off, maybe.”

  “I’m not interested in making friends.”

  Eli wondered why she was being so honest. It was true: she was often lonely, but her brief visits to the human world were always for reconnaissance, training, or assassination. It would never be her home, so why try? Witch tools didn’t have friends.

  Circinae had often disciplined her for not doing a better job cultivating a network of human contacts she could exploit to do her job. But Eli worked best alone, and she didn’t need any humans hanging around asking questions or reminding her that she didn’t belong. Instead, she’d worked on becoming a shadow, on slipping in and out of rooms and crowds unnoticed. She’d practised using her knives. She told herself these were the skills that mattered.

  Besides, she had Kite. That had to be enough. Once she had wanted —

  But she was older now. She understood her place.

  “That’s too bad. Think of all the rides you missed out on.”

  Tav was smiling at her. The sun glinted off the black helmet cradled in their arm. Eli felt her heart move strangely, like a fish newly released into the ocean. The light caught the hilt of the frost blade and burst across her vision. Eli wondered if the blade was as excited as she was, or if it knew something she didn’t.

  In a moment of human spontaneity, Eli did the first truly rebellious thing she had ever done: she decided to trust them.

  “Guess we should start making up for it then.”

  Tav blinked in surprise and then laughed. “I agree completely. Here.” They handed Eli their spare helmet. “Safety first.”

  The idea of being safe was so absurd to Eli that she started laughing and couldn’t stop, even as she snapped on her helmet and climbed up behind Tav.

  “Crazy girl,” said Tav. It sounded like a compliment. “Where are we going?”

  Her cold thighs against Tav’s warm body. The smell of metal and dish soap and peonies. Eli’s heart was racing dangerously fast, and she wondered if this was better than the thrill of the hunt or the burn of caffeine.

  “Anywhere,” said Eli.

  Tav revved the engine, and they tore off down the city streets.

  Seven

  Tav drove clear through town and stopped at a café Eli had never seen before. It was called The Sun. It was a grand name for an unassuming hovel, the sign hand-painted and faded with age.

  “Best coffee in the city,” said Tav.

  Eli said nothing, still exhilarated by the rush of wind on her face and the simmering panic of running away from her life. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe.

  “Need help?” Tav offered a hand, but Eli, already feeling in their debt, swung herself off the bike gracefully. She made herself breathe again.

  Tav raised an eyebrow appreciatively. Eli had to smother a smile. She spent so much time obsessing over what her body was made from that she often forgot how well it moved. She wasn’t used to being admired. It felt dangerous.

  Eli liked danger.

  “Thanks for the ride. Smoother than it looks.”

  “First time?” Tav sounded surprised. “You didn’t seem nervous at all.”

  “I don’t get nervous.” She wasn’t bragging — it was the truth.

  “Another hole in your ‘shy’ story.”

  Before Eli could think of an appropriate response, Tav had turned and walked inside. A bell tinkled faintly as they entered. Eli smelled rose petals and sage. It reminded her of the apothecary Circinae used to take her to when she was little. No one told her what had happened to him. People vanished in the witches’ city all the time — not always by choice, but often enough that she had never been too worried when an acquaintance disappeared for a month or a year.

  Then again, magic ran on sacrifice, and the world sometimes took what it was owed.

  “Large Americano and whatever my friend wants,” Tav told the barista, leaning on the counter. “God, I love your necklace.”

  The woman behind the counter blushed and stammered a “thank you.”

  Were they friends? Is that what Eli wanted?

  “Large coffee. Black.” Eli unconsciously stepped into a patch of shadow and leaned against the cracked wooden wall. The barista slid a large mug across the counter.

  “Grab us a seat,” said Tav. “I’ll find you.”

  Eli should have downed the coffee, turned around, and marched out the door. Returned to her mission. Instead, she found herself taking the mug, shrugging, and then sitting down at a table in one corner.

  The sun streamed in through the windows. Eli felt very visible. It was strange. She wasn’t used to being looked at the way Tav looked at her — like she was a person, like she was more than a witch’s tool. She wondered if that reflected poorly on her training. Did she stand out when she was supposed to blend in?

  But she liked it.

  Tav was still flirting cheerfully with the barista. Eli surreptitiously inspected her palm. It was unblemished, but the scent of smoke lingered. Frowning, she placed it back on her knee under the table. She sipped the coffee, wincing as the heat burned her lips, and watched Tav’s purple spikes catch the light, turning violet and lavender and royal blue. Before long, Tav was in front of Eli, all eyes and leather and smiles.

  “Thanks again.” Eli kept reaching for words and watching them slip through her fingers. She shouldn’t be here. Strangely, she didn’t feel anxious. Her heart was beating smoothly, her breathing even and calm. She felt more relaxed than she had in years. Not dream-lulled, like she sometimes felt with Kite, but the kind of calm that comes with warm sunshine on a Sunday morning.

  “Nice to have the company.”

  A pause.

  “I like your name,” Eli offered.

  “Thanks. Picked it myself.” Tav winked.

  “Where’s it from?”

  “I read Dawn like a million times. Just one of those books that sticks with you, you know?”

  “Dawn?”

  “Humanity’s almost been destroyed by nuclear war? The main character mates with an alien — well, kind of. And the aliens have three genders?”

  Eli shook her head. “Never heard of it.”

  “Dude. You need to fix that immediately. Octavia Butler is amazing.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Eli, arching an eye
brow.

  “Thank god. My good deed for the day is done.” Tav took a sip and then sighed. “Best. Damn. Coffee. Ever.”

  Eli was about halfway through hers and still hadn’t felt the angry kick of caffeine that would jolt her into action. She felt at peace.

  “What is this place? It’s … different.”

  Tav studied her face intently before answering. “I don’t know,” they said. “But something about it always brings me back, even though it’s never on my way. It just feels … right.”

  Eli nodded. She could feel it, too. “Why did you bring me here?”

  Tav looked away, a slight frown wrinkling the skin around their eyes. “I don’t know exactly. Finding you like that — like you’d walked out of a storm, or maybe a story — and you were crackling with this kind of energy. I just knew you needed to be here.”

  “What kind of energy? Do you see auras or something?” Eli had met some of the new age types who played with fortune-telling and rituals. She had always laughed at them before, but maybe humans had their own kind of magic.

  “Something like that. Yeah. And yours was … wild. Like nothing I’d ever seen before.”

  “Is that a pick-up line?” Eli found herself smiling.

  Tav laughed. “Hey, it usually works like a charm.”

  “I’ll bet.” Eli rolled her eyes. Her gaze snagged on a succulent on the bar, its leaves writhing wildly. She blinked, and the plant was static again. Ordinary.

  “Any time I get tired of driving around town, feeling stuck and tired and frustrated, I come here,” Tav said, dragging Eli’s attention back to them. “And then I feel a bit better. I sound crazy, I know.”

  “No.” Eli caught their eye. “No, you don’t. I feel it, too.”

  Tav leaned back and stretched. “I wish I could stay here all day. Forget about the world.”

  “No.” Eli played with the handle of the mug. “You’d get bored.”

  “True.”

  There was a pause as they both finished their drinks.

  “There’s one more thing I’d like to show you,” said Tav, looking out the window. “Will you come with me?”

  “Okay,” said Eli, surprised by how much she wanted to.