by Claudia Gray
Mateo knew the sensation was related to magic; this was like the shadow of what he felt when he helped Nadia by strengthening a spell. In its wake it left behind sorrow, and guilt, and fear. Those emotions weren’t his own—they couldn’t be—but he knew they were related to whatever Nadia had just done.
In an instant, he saw a face, pale and frightened as it got caught up in the wake of what had just happened. Someone who was now in danger.
He sucked in a breath and whispered, “Verlaine.”
Hurry, hurry, I’ve got to hurry—
By now the water was up to Verlaine’s rib cage. She had taken on basement duty—wading through the floodwater to grab the most important files, then handing them off to Asa, who had stair duty. He’d grab an armload of files from her and hurry upstairs, depositing them safely, before running back down to help her.
They were working as fast as they could, but the flood was rising faster.
All these papers, Verlaine thought despairingly. She didn’t think of them as newsprint and wood pulp; she thought of them as the lingering traces of people who had lived here, real human beings who didn’t want to be forgotten any more than she did. They’re being destroyed, and I just can’t move fast enough.
The metallic ringing of Asa’s footsteps made her look up as she struggled back to the stairs. He was breathing hard; by now he would have made at least thirty trips up and down, if not more. “Come up,” he panted. “You need to come up now. The water’s too deep.”
“I can go a while longer,” Verlaine insisted. “A couple more handfuls means a couple more years of records making it out.”
“This is taking historiography too far.” But Asa held out his arms, and she shunted the next pile of papers to him.
As he made his way upward, Verlaine pushed off from the metal rail of the staircase; by now, the water was deep enough that she needed extra energy to move through it. This dress is ruined, she thought; it was one of her favorites, a ’40s original that still had all its original color and swing. But she’d have sacrificed more than a dress to save as much of the Guardian as she could. The weight of her waterlogged clothing seemed to drag at her as she walked—in what felt like slow motion—back to one of the last filing cabinets she hadn’t dealt with. Verlaine pulled open the top drawer, filled her arms with papers—
—and that was when the waters surged.
The current quickened, intensified, maybe even doubled. Verlaine squeaked as she staggered backward, dragged off-balance by the sudden torrent of the water around her. Before, it had felt like struggling to walk through a swimming pool; now it was like being caught in a storm-swollen river. She could hardly remain upright . . .
Then she couldn’t. Verlaine lost her footing and fell.
The water closed over her head, cold and fast. She had managed to close her eyes in time, but she could feel the flotsam and debris as it scored her skin—grit, gravel, and all the other detritus the flood had picked up. Although she tried to grip the files in her hands tightly, the currents were too strong. The folders were torn from her, and though Verlaine tried to reach for them, they were lost.
Bracing herself against the floor, Verlaine pushed herself to the surface to breathe—but just as she gulped in air, the current knocked her feet out from under her. Immediately she went under again.
It’s okay, she thought, trying to ignore the panicky fluttering in her chest. You’re all right. Just reach the staircase, and Asa will help you.
Then she couldn’t seem to get her feet under her, and she wasn’t sure which way was up, and if she could have taken a breath, she would have screamed.
“There,” Nadia said in satisfaction as she sat back. “You can’t complain about that.”
“No, I can’t.” Elizabeth looked more pleased at Nadia’s success than expected.
Only then did it hit Nadia: I successfully cast black magic. I made myself get better at it. I made myself useful to Elizabeth.
How could she have been so stupid? She’d let pride goad her into doing Elizabeth’s work more perfectly. She’d gotten so caught up in her own petty irritation that she had completely lost sight of the goal.
What have I done?
“Don’t punish yourself,” Elizabeth said. “It’s only natural. Falling prey to easy temptations of ego—it’s how most practitioners of black magic begin.”
Being seen through so easily hurt even worse. “Most?” Nadia said, trying to cover her own horror. “Not all? I guess that means, not you.”
“Not I.” Elizabeth’s smile was a small, secretive one, like a girl thinking about her crush. “I knew exactly what I wanted all along.”
I’ve got to get her out of there, Asa thought as he hurried back down the stairs, leg muscles aching. He had been able to stop time for a few of his trips down, allowing him a moment to rest, but by now even the rest breaks didn’t cut it. And now he felt Elizabeth and Nadia’s dark magic at work, strengthening the chaos around them. The crusading-reporter thing only goes so far. This is the last trip, the absolute last.
He rounded the final curve of the spiral staircase to see everything submerged even deeper, the flood surging into the basement so quickly the water ran white, as though they were in the rapids. Verlaine was nowhere to be seen.
“Verlaine!” he shouted. No one responded, of course—but amid the bubbles and currents Asa thought he caught a glimpse of swirling silver hair just beneath the surface.
Instantly Asa dived into the water. The shock of the cold hit him anew—his legs were used to it by now, but not the rest of him—and it took his demonic heat a moment to compensate. He opened his eyes despite the sting of dust and debris and saw Verlaine struggling feebly beneath the surface. With a hard push of his feet against the floor, he propelled himself toward her, managing to hook one arm around her waist.
Together they surfaced. Verlaine gasped for breath so desperately that he knew she’d been under too long. “Asa?” She clung to his shoulders. “We have to get out of here.”
“As a wise man once said, no shit.”
The water was surging past his ability to overcome it. Asa struggled toward the staircase, but already he was in danger of losing his footing. And his breath shortened as the straps around his chest tightened, punishing him for risking his mortal vessel for an enemy of the One Beneath. Maybe—maybe he could get the better of it, if he just stopped time—
To do that, he had to clap his hands together. To clap his hands, he would have to let go of Verlaine. That would mean letting her go under the water again. Panting and exhausted as she was, Asa thought she would be in danger of inhaling water—going from in distress to actually drowning even faster than his demonic powers could act.
I won’t let go, he thought. No matter what.
Then the current strengthened yet again, and Asa and Verlaine both cried out as they were knocked off their feet and slammed against the filing cabinets. Asa tried to protect her as best he could, wrapping both arms and one leg around her, but she was in danger of being ripped away at any instant.
That was when he heard, “Hang on!”
Asa looked up to see Mateo Perez, running down the last few steps of the staircase. How had he known they were in there? No telling—and at the moment, it didn’t matter. One person’s help might make the difference in saving Verlaine’s life.
Obviously Mateo realized that plunging into the water himself would just mean three people at risk instead of only two. Instead he went to the bottom of the stairwell and hung onto the railing with one hand—allowing the current to pull him a little deeper into the basement. By now less than two feet remained between the surface of the water and the ceiling.
With his other hand, Mateo reached out as far as he could. “Grab on!”
Could Asa make it? He had to, for Verlaine’s sake.
But just as he thought this, Verlaine clutched one of his hands and pushed herself forward, making the leap for Mateo herself. Mateo had to reach for her, but somehow
they managed to hang on to each other. Then Verlaine shouted, “Let go! I’ve got you!”
“I came down here to save you!” Asa protested, but there was no point. Every once in a while, a guy had to let himself get saved instead.
He let go of the file cabinets, and the current caught him, hard—but he and Verlaine held on to each other. Mateo grimaced as he towed them in, but slowly he managed to get Verlaine back onto the steps, and then the two of them helped Asa. Once he had metal under his feet, he felt a little better.
And yet, exhausted. He’d had no idea a human body could ache like this, and he had extra strength to call upon from his demonic side. Verlaine had to be on the verge of collapse, and even Mateo would be weary.
“Upstairs,” Asa gasped. “We have to get out of here.”
Verlaine groaned—no doubt still mourning all the lost records, all the forgotten realms of the past—but she started making her way up. Mateo followed, and Asa brought up the rear . . .
. . . until the moment the staircase pulled free of the wall.
Verlaine screamed. Mateo shouted. Asa didn’t know what sound he would have made, because he almost instantly fell back into the water, which rushed into his mouth and made him cough for breath.
The currents have torn the metal staircase from its moorings, Asa realized. If we don’t have the stairs, how do we get out?
In one more instant, he had the answer: Maybe we don’t.
“What did we just do?” Nadia asked. Her panic deepened, dizzying her. Every sound beyond her own breath seemed to have been muffled. “The current—the water—what’s happening?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “The specific and immediate consequences are almost irrelevant. We have brought this weather upon the town to do the work of rain, which is never accomplished in a single night. Its destruction is slower—but inevitable.”
This made no sense to Nadia. No, she hadn’t napped all the way through the geology unit of natural sciences; she knew rainfall was one of the most powerful forces on earth, tearing down mountain ranges by a millimeter a year until they turned into sand. But that took hundreds and thousands of years.
They don’t need to wipe Captive’s Sound off the earth entirely, Nadia realized. They just need to break things down—which is already happening.
And I’m helping.
Elizabeth had played into Nadia’s impatience, her insecurity, even her hatred to make her do exactly what the One Beneath wanted. Worst of all, when she’d worked that dark magic—when she’d twisted her memories of her life into their darkest, bleakest form, staining them forever—it had felt good. Amazing. Like she’d been hungry her whole life and not even known it until the moment she bit down on the richest chocolate cake ever. Yet instead of being full, now she was even hungrier. Now she knew what she was missing.
Nadia shoved herself away from the circle and got to her feet. From her place on the floor, Elizabeth watched, impassive and amused, as Nadia said, “I’m going. I have to see what—what we’ve done.”
“I told you,” Elizabeth said. “It doesn’t matter.”
She made no move to stop Nadia as she dashed out of the old house, into the rain.
Mateo had learned the same stuff about water safety that any kid learned when they lived on the shore. One of the first lessons: Don’t attempt to rescue somebody if you can’t see it through, because the last thing you need to do is put two people in danger instead of just one.
Should’ve remembered that, he thought as he grabbed for the metal stair railing, grasped it—and felt it come loose from the wall. Now it was only heavy metal dragging him down.
His head plunged beneath the surface of the water; Verlaine’s body collided with his as she fell. Now all three of them were tangled in one another and the spiral staircase, hardly able to move. Mateo fought past his panic as he tried to get to the surface, pushed his face above the water just long enough to grab a breath, then slipped under again.
The staircase was the problem, he realized. If they’d just been stuck in a fast-rising flood, with their only exit several feet above their heads, they could probably have treaded water long enough to reach the doorway, or at least until more help arrived. The stairs were now nothing more than a spiral of twisted metal that thrashed in the current, banging and bruising their limbs, pushing them down, and turning the last space in the basement with any air into a deathtrap.
Mateo managed to push himself above the water again just long enough to see Asa trying to pull Verlaine up—managing to do it—and then tumbling back under himself. The water churned around them violently, and water splashed into his nose and throat, making him cough.
Verlaine screamed, “Help!” Wow, she could seriously scream when she wanted to. But Mateo knew that if somebody wasn’t already searching the Guardian offices, nobody would be able to hear them no matter how loudly they yelled.
This might be it, he thought. We might die.
The knowledge of it felt different than he’d thought it would. He’d been in danger before but there had always been something he could do, some action he could try even if he failed. Now all three of them were helpless, unable to do more than desperately claw their way upward for breath. This felt less like panic, more like an incredible weight pressing on his chest, and the narrowing of his thoughts down to nothing but how long they might have.
A metal step slammed into his gut, and Mateo slipped underwater again. He found himself thinking of that time he’d had to rescue Nadia—how he’d had to breathe into her mouth for her, giving her air, to keep her alive—
Maybe his life was starting to flash before his eyes.
Then a strong hand closed around his upper arm and yanked him up. Mateo surfaced, gasping for breath, to see that Verlaine had taken hold of him while Asa helped brace her against the wall. He wanted to thank her, but he didn’t have the breath.
Then he heard a shout from above. “We’ve got people down here!”
Thank God! Mateo looked up to see Gage. He wore a fluorescent yellow safety vest over his clothes; he must have been one of the people pitching in to help the cops. As Gage leaned through the doorway, he braced himself and yelled, “I’m gonna throw down a rope, okay?”
None of them could answer, but when a nylon rope dropped into their midst, they all let go of one another and grabbed on. The rope had plastic toggles every foot or so, which kept it from slipping out of their grasp. Mateo knew there was no way Gage could possibly tow them up on his own—and the metal staircase still slammed against them, back and forth, with the brisk current. But just being able to keep himself above the surface was something.
From above he heard various shouts; apparently the other rescuers were coming to help, now that Gage had raised the alarm.
“This isn’t right,” Verlaine said, half-dazed. Wet strands of her gray hair framed her face. “Something happened during the flood. Something changed it.”
Asa gasped, “Black magic.”
That was what Mateo had felt—the darkness of the magic transforming this flood into something murderous.
He also suspected the magic had belonged to Nadia.
Nadia drove toward the sound of sirens. Dad is going to kill me if he ever finds out, she thought as she swerved around orange plastic cones meant to keep her out of the most dangerous area.
When she pulled into the town square, she saw a few police cars and both of the town’s fire trucks, their lights beating red and blue flashes onto the otherwise darkened square. Where was everybody? The cops, the firefighters? Nadia frowned—then remembered how many houses and stores here had basements. For storage, mostly. Her fear dimmed slightly as she thought, They’re just trying to protect people’s property. I didn’t put anyone in danger. It’s okay . . .
Then she saw that a group had gathered in front of the Guardian.
“Verlaine!” Nadia ran from the car, rain spattering down on her face and hair as she dashed toward the newspaper office. Her breath caught in her chest, and a
stitch ached in her side, but she pushed herself to run faster. If Verlaine was in there, and she had to do magic in front of every man in the world to save her, then that was how it had to be.
As she reached the building, a fireman saw her and held out his arms. “Miss, you shouldn’t be in this area.”
“Verlaine!” Nadia yelled, or tried to yell. She could hardly breathe. “My friend—is she—”
At that moment, Gage emerged from the doorway with Verlaine leaning against him, one of her arms around his shoulder. The paramedics immediately wrapped her in a shiny-looking thermal blanket, and Verlaine sank down on the sidewalk, almost too exhausted to even sit up.
Asa stumbled out afterward, waving off any attempts at assistance. His eyes met Nadia’s, and he smiled mirthlessly. “Well done.”
Nadia winced.
The paramedics swarmed around him, obviously eager to tend to him—but Asa brought his hands together. Everyone and everything froze, even the rain, and Nadia alone could still perceive what was going on.
“Can’t let them take any vitals,” Asa said, weaving his way through the paramedics to stand at her side. Raindrops hung in the air around them like thousands of tiny glittering jewels. He wrung water from his sweater and grimaced. “They’d think I had a fever no human could actually survive. I’d just as soon avoid any trips to the emergency room. The doctors will be busy enough tonight.”
“Who else has been hurt?” Nadia said. “Nobody’s been killed—have they?”
“How should I know? It’s not our business to tally the deaths. Only to do the bidding of the One Beneath.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her, as though he’d never really seen her face before. “You’re good at this, you know. Better than I thought you’d be.”
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
Asa walked past her, and a few moments later she heard his hands come together—and the rain and movement began again. For a moment the paramedics were startled, looking for the patient they’d seen just an instant before, but then a fireman helped someone else outside.
