She pushed him away impatiently, though she could hardly blame him. “Okay, so that’s the Order—”
“Hold on a second there, Underwood, we haven’t even scratched the surface yet.”
“Nav, there isn’t time to give you every single detail. I’ve been a part of this my whole life; it would take forever!”
His face was serious again. “I know that. But what do alchemists do? Surely they’re not really searching for the philosopher’s stone? Even I’ve heard of those myths, but … is that real?”
Donna wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against the wall. She couldn’t tell him everything; she just couldn’t bring herself to talk about the Order’s hunger for eternal life and their single-minded dedication to that cause. Especially not after the whole wood-elf-in-the-workshop incident—it made her feel nauseous to even think about it. She needed to figure some things out before she could even consider going there.
“Well?” Navin nudged her with his knee.
“It’s complicated, but for one thing, there’s the science of it all—which would include things like the philosopher’s stone and the elixir of life.” She saw that Navin was about to say something and rushed on. “Transformation. That’s a huge area of study and practice, way too huge to go into now. If you’ve read any kind of fiction about alchemy, heard the legends, or seen it in a movie … you at least get the idea. Maker’s a very powerful alchemist. He makes things—as his name suggests.”
Navin screwed up his face. “Like, what things?”
She blew out a breath. “Just … stuff. Lots and lots of different kinds of stuff.”
“Magical stuff?”
“Sometimes, yes. You saw some of it at his workshop.” She curled her legs beneath her and fixed him with a determined stare, one that dared him to interrupt her again. “And then there are the elves.”
“So, you’re skipping over the part where you guys make gold,” Navin said dryly, “and I get to hear about the monsters. Great.”
Ignoring him, Donna continued, wondering if this was how her tutor, Alma Kensington, felt after all those years of teaching her. She already felt exhausted, and Navin had only known about the magical reality of her life for a few hours. “So, the creature we ran into today was a wood elf, although the Order also calls them dark elves since they’re among the most dangerous beings to come out of Faerie.”
Navin leaned forward. “‘Faerie’?”
“Oh, right. Sorry, I mean the place. That’s what it’s called.”
“You’re seriously telling me there’s a place called Faerie.”
Donna wasn’t sure if Navin meant this as a question or a statement. “Um, yeah. It’s another realm that exists right alongside ours.” She caught the look on his face. “What? You thought our world is all there is? That’s so … limited.”
“Well, excuse me for being limited.”
“As I was saying,” Donna said loudly, talking over him, “when the faeries—as in, the actual beings—left this world and finally went back to their own realm, the wood elves got left behind. They refused to pay the tithe, you see—”
“Wait a minute. Tithe?”
“The tithe that Faerie has to pay to Hell every seven years.”
“Hell ?!”
Donna grabbed his arm, for a moment forgetting her own strength. “Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “I don’t know when Aunt Paige will get back.”
“Shit, chill out.” Navin’s brown eyes were filled with reproach. “I bruise easily.” He rubbed his arm and wouldn’t quite look at her.
Donna threw her arms round his shoulders—taking more care this time—and hugged him. “I’m sorry; she just can’t find out I’ve told you all this. Ever.”
“It’s okay, Underwood. I get it.” His arms went around her in return, and he stroked her back before gently pushing her away.
Donna cleared her throat and decided it might just be easier to keep talking. This was getting way too intense. “It’s not like the Christian place. Hell’s just a convenient name for the demon realm—the Underworld. The tithe is like a payment. A penalty of sorts. If they don’t pay it … well, I don’t really know what happens. But the wood elves refused to pay their tithe to the demons, and war broke out between them and the rest of the fey—resulting in the elves being left behind in the human world. They got all evil and twisted, the longer they had to stay here.”
She shrugged, trying to remember the things she’d learned from Alma over the years. According to alchemical lore, there were three main races, or factions—humans, protected by the alchemists; the fey, of which the wood elves were just one subculture; and the demons, which Donna knew next to nothing about and would be entirely happy to remain ignorant of for the rest of her life. She gazed at Navin, waiting for him to say something.
He finally spoke. “If they’re wood elves, where do they live? There’s not much of the old Ironwood left now—it’s not even really a forest at all, is it?”
“No, and even what’s left is under threat. If the Order had its way, it would’ve been pulled down and built over long ago. But environmental do-gooders have managed to block that, so far.” Although the Ironwood was still a protected area, Donna knew that the Order hadn’t given up. Aunt Paige was working quietly through her position in the mayor’s office, and the Order was making the case— through various politicians—that much-needed housing should be built on the site.
Navin looked thoughtful. “I was always on the side of those do-gooders … ”
“Yeah, well, now you know what’s out there.” Donna picked at a loose thread on the purple throw they were sitting on.
“So, they live out there in what’s left of the woods? That’s—”
“Crazy?”
He laughed, but it came out sounding strained. “I guess.” He leaned back against the wall and scrubbed at his face with his hands. “But then, this whole thing is crazy.”
Donna nodded sympathetically, trying to hide her growing trepidation. She couldn’t help it; she was analyzing every move Navin made, looking for signs that this was all too much for him. That she was going to lose him. So far he seemed to be taking things pretty well—maybe too well.
“Anyway,” she continued, “the wood elves got left behind, so, yes, they mainly stayed in the forests and woodland. But then the progress of humans began to push them out of their natural habitat.”
“Of course.” Navin nodded. “Tearing down forests, building over them, that sort of thing.”
“The Iron Age,” Donna said darkly. “Ironbridge has expanded so much over the years—from village to town, and then to the small city it is today. Think of the land it encompasses now, compared to what it used to cover. Some people are actually living on top of what used to be a settlement belonging to faeries. At one time, the woodland extended much farther; that’s why the iron bridge was built in the first place, back when this was only a village. It was supposed to keep the elves out. We’re living over the center of the old Elflands.”
“Man, I bet they were pissed off about losing their home.”
“And losing it more than once. First they get kicked out of Faerie—their own realm, then they start getting uprooted from their natural environment in the human world.”
Navin suddenly looked worried. “So what’s to stop them from overrunning the place, like that one in Maker’s workshop?”
Donna shook her head. “You saw what happened to it when it fell in the tub. They can’t stand being near iron—not for too long, anyway. And it always hurts them to come into actual contact with it. They get sort of thin and stretched; their magic doesn’t work properly. Of course … ”
The look of relief that had momentarily crossed Navin’s face was wiped away. “What?”
“Well, they’ve adapted, to some extent. Among all the beings of Faerie, the dark elves have a unique kind of magic. They’re shape-changers.”
“Great, now they can ‘walk among us.’ ” Navin made spooky
Twilight Zone sounds.
Donna glared at him. “They really can. They can change their shape and wear another form. It’s called their ‘elfskin.’ It’s like the ultimate disguise.”
“How do we know they’re not taking over Ironbridge, then?”
“Because the Order has magic of its own that can find them. Sniff out the ones who do try to come here. And don’t forget the iron—cities are half built of the stuff. Even wearing a glamour, elves couldn’t survive here. Sure, they might be able to withstand the iron for a while, but not for any length of time, and not unless they have some additional source of power.”
“So, let me get this straight. The alchemists—these four Orders—basically make it their business to … what? Fight the elves? All faeries? What’s the deal?”
“I guess, historically, the alchemists were always the ones who stood between humanity and the fey—as in, anything that comes out of Faerie. But in modern times, it’s very different. The dark elves are the only threat now, because they’re the only ones who have any sort of major presence. And even their numbers are shrinking.”
Of course, there were also faery stragglers, solitary fey who had gotten left behind or who had chosen not to go with their people when Faerie was sealed up for good. Not to mention changelings and half-fey. But Donna didn’t think now was the time to mention this. She’d probably already taken a few years off Navin’s life just telling him as much as she had.
Navin uncurled his legs and stretched. “So, assuming I’m going to believe all of this—which I do, don’t worry—when are you going to tell me about these?” He suddenly laid his brown hand over hers. Her gloves had always been a barrier between them. “Don’t you think it’s way past time?”
Donna pulled her hand back. It was a reflexive action, but the moment she’d done it, she wished she could undo it. The hurt and rejection on his face made her heart ache. “Nav, I—”
“Donna!” called a voice from downstairs, “I’m home!”
Saved by Aunt Paige, Donna thought. Who’d’ve thunk it? For the past year, she’d managed to avoid telling Navin the truth behind the Incident at Ironbridge High, and she figured her luck had finally run out. But it hadn’t.
“Up here with Nav, Aunt Paige,” she shouted back. She turned to Navin, trying to tell him how sorry she was with her eyes. “I should go talk to her. I’ve hardly seen her since she got back from her trip.”
“What are you going to tell her?”
“Maker said not to say anything.” Donna shrugged, trying to ignore the doubt that tightened her gut. “I guess he must know what he’s doing.” Something was off about that whole situation, but she had too much to sort through right now.
Navin got up and waited for her to follow him to the bedroom door, but Donna couldn’t help noticing that he wasn’t looking at her. “Come on then, let me go say ‘hi’ to your aunt so I can get home,” he said. “Dad’ll wonder what’s happened to me.”
They stood there for a moment, Donna wishing she knew what was going through her best friend’s mind. It was a pity that being a child of alchemists didn’t give her special powers—like telepathy, or cool stuff like that.
Navin’s face was paler than normal now, and there were little patches of putty-colored skin beneath his eyes that looked strange against his light brown skin. It sometimes happened when he got tired or stressed; Donna had seen him like this during exams, and especially around the time of his mother’s illness. Guilt made her chest tight and she found it difficult to breathe. She had made him look like that. It was her fault that Nav was so shell-shocked.
And betrayed, said the guilt-ridden voice inside her.
As usual, Navin surprised her. He grabbed her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “Don’t look so worried, Underwood.”
“I’m so sorry about all of this,” she replied, unable to stop her voice from wobbling and immediately hating herself for sounding weak. “If anything ever happened to you, it would be my fault.”
“Stop with the drama.” He let go of her hand and flung his arm around her shoulders. “Women! Always exaggerating.”
She snorted. “Sharma, you know just what to say to say to a girl. No wonder you haven’t hooked up with anyone yet.”
“Who says I haven’t?”
“I’d know if you had.” Donna tried to smile as she stepped away from him. “You tell me everything.”
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
Navin looked at her carefully. She had never seen him look more solemn. All the humor drained out of him, and his mouth, usually so quick to smile, had drawn into a tight line. “Maybe I don’t tell you everything, Don. We all have secrets. I just learned that today.”
She bit her lip. Dammit, this was something she would not be able to stand; there was no way she could go on without Navin beside her. But he was right. She had kept secrets; maybe too many of them for their friendship to survive. She had always believed that she didn’t have a choice—the Order had its rules, and she’d followed them because … well, because that’s what you do when you grow up among the alchemists.
But of course, now she knew an important but painful truth: the choice had been hers all along. Donna had chosen to follow the rules.
That choice could cost her the most important person in her life; it could cost her Navin.
After Navin had gone, Donna lay on her bed listening to the familiar sounds of her aunt clattering mugs and plates in the kitchen. She reluctantly contemplated putting in an appearance for tea, not really wanting to face her aunt while she was still so confused about everything.
She was supposed to be doing homework, but there wasn’t a chance she’d be able to concentrate on Hermetic Literature with everything that had happened since last night. Swallowing hard, she tried to think about something else, something comforting and normal.
The fact that Aunt Paige was making afternoon tea seemed ridiculously mundane in light of recent developments. They usually spent some time catching up on Sundays—time that didn’t have anything to do with either Donna’s education and training or her aunt’s work. Paige was very busy during the week and often away on Saturdays, meaning that Sunday was the one day they really got to spend quality time together.
Donna’s mind wandered back to the conversation with Navin. Not only had she broken one of the Order’s most sacred vows, but she’d involved her friend way more than was safe. She’d pretty much spilled her guts and told him everything. Okay, maybe not everything, but a lot. She still hadn’t shown him her hands and arms, but no doubt that would be next.
She remembered the carefully controlled expressions of shock on Navin’s face while he listened to her, and the way he’d looked at her before he left. The disappointment and the worry—and the darkness in his eyes that said he almost didn’t recognize her—would stay with her forever. That look, especially, was completely her fault. Just as she’d been allowing herself to believe it might be okay, that Navin was handling things well, she’d pulled away from his touch. He had finally asked her about her hands—something he’d never pressed her about—and she’d shrunk from him.
Some friend I am, she thought.
Her phone beeped and she grabbed it from the bedside table. She hoped it meant Navin was okay and not going completely nuts just thinking about all the things she’d told him. But the number on the display was unfamiliar. Donna frowned. It wasn’t like many people sent her text messages.
Holding her breath, and suddenly getting a clear mental image of intense green eyes, she read the message several times before she could fully take it in:
Please meet me for coffee. We need to talk. X
For one crazy moment, Donna thought the message had been signed with a kiss. Then she remembered that “X” was Xan’s initial. Duh.
She bit her lip and tried not to get too excited. Or too nervous. So he wanted to meet—it didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t like it was a date. Her hands felt clumsy as she fiddled
with the phone and wondered what she should say in reply. Then she smiled and began to type.
I thought you were going to CALL me? I call this texting ;-)
The reply came back within seconds:
I find it easier to take rejection in writing …
Her grin widened and she couldn’t stop a delicious, warm feeling from bubbling up inside her. Her heart felt lighter and, for the first time that day, the shadow of worry began to melt into the background.
They texted back and forth, arranging a meeting at the center of Ironbridge Common at four thirty the next day, which was the earliest Donna thought she could make it after her classes with Alma Kensington. She wouldn’t even have to tell Aunt Paige where she was going, since she often met Navin after school and rarely went straight home from the Frost Estate.
Staring at her cell phone, Donna wondered how she was going to be able to concentrate between now and then.
“Donna!” Aunt Paige called. “I thought you were coming downstairs. I’ve made the tea … ”
Donna jumped guiltily off the bed. “Coming!”
She was suddenly nervous about spending time with her aunt; she’d never been good at hiding things from her. She tried to put all thoughts of Xan and Navin, and especially Maker, out of her mind. But … she felt sure the old alchemist was up to something. The most disturbing thing about all of it was that Maker hadn’t even seemed phased about hiding a dark elf in his workshop. It was almost as though it had been normal. And the word “experiment” set all sorts of alarm bells ringing.
Shaking her head, Donna shoved her feet into fluffy slippers and ran downstairs to see her aunt.
“Tonight?” Donna gasped.
Aunt Paige pursed her lips and ran a hand through her dark hair. “It’s only once a month. I don’t think I ask much of you, Donna.” She was using the no-nonsense tone that was an all too familiar feature of her strong personality.
“I really can’t go, not tonight.” The monthly dinners with the alchemists were something Donna was resenting more and more with each passing year. It was like being indoctrinated into something. If there was one thing she hated above all else, it was not being given a choice—a regular feature of the life she’d been born into.
The Iron Witch Page 6
