by K. M. Szpara
4
KANE / CONFIDENTIAL
The first time I felt the rush of my own power, it was cold. December, the day after the longest night of the year, and I was hungover. Us Anointed weren’t supposed to give in to the temptations of sweets or games or sex or alcohol. But it had been the longest night of the year, and the Fellows in our age group had invited us to celebrate with them—Deryn had invited Lark and me to play cards and drink.
We never really hung out with the Fellows, especially not blood relations. Nova encouraged us to forget those links—actively disavow them. Nova was our caretaker, our teacher, and our mother figure. The people who gave birth to us or who shared natal parents were not our family. They were our helpers. They supported us by keeping the Fellowship working. Cooking and crafting, farming and herding. Building, fixing, cleaning. That sort of work made them almost invisible to us.
Which is why I accepted the invitation. Lark didn’t want to at first, he always followed the rules. We’d never tasted alcohol before, and he had no desire, telling me what I already knew. That it would dull our senses and inhibit the magic he believed would come because Nova told us so.
I didn’t even enjoy the alcohol. The first sip burned all the way down my throat, but I refused to show it. Lark was nervous; I shouldn’t have pushed him, but I wanted this for us—for us to relax and have a good time together with the Fellows. Like two people who weren’t carrying the future of humanity on our shoulders.
He coughed, spitting the clear liquid onto the ground, before handing the cup to Deryn. “How do you drink that?” he asked, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. I remember a hazy feeling coming over me as the night went on—from the atmosphere or the laughter or the alcohol. From Lark’s glow in the dim light of the maintenance building where Deryn swore no one ever looked.
We tasted candies that Deryn’s friends made in the kitchens and snuck into their pockets. Played games with a deck of outsider cards that someone had traded for—Lark didn’t even want to touch them at first. As if he could absorb corruption through them. But I convinced him to play, even though I couldn’t convince him to drink. Probably for the best. I got so drunk, the Fellows had to help Lark walk me back to our quarters.
When we got there, Nova was waiting. Behind her, Zadie and Maeve stood nervously, glancing up from their feet with fear in their eyes. I was only just sixteen. Lark, a few months behind. The girls were thirteen and fourteen and, when we arrived, it looked like they’d been crying. I was instantly sober.
“I’ll never disobey you again,” I swore as Nova tied my hands with a long rope, tossed it over the ceiling beam, and hoisted me off my feet. “Never sneak out at night, never drink alcohol, eat candy, play games.”
I didn’t fight when she tied the rope off or when she cut my shirt up the back or when she gave Lark the cat o’ nine tails. His hands were shaking. I noticed before he disappeared behind me. I remember trying to will them still with magic I didn’t have yet. Weakness wouldn’t have done either of us any good in that moment.
You can suffocate hanging by your wrists. Gravity stretches you out, making it hard for your ribs to expand—most people don’t know that. I didn’t. Drawing breath felt like pushing a boulder uphill. I tried to focus on them, to count, but couldn’t.
“You’re the oldest, Kane,” Nova said. “You should know better.”
The cat’s metal claws bounced off my back—a hesitant swing. It didn’t hurt any more than a handful of pebbles. I heard Nova say, “No, like this.” The moment between her words and contact felt like a century. Like I was outside of time.
I can still go there: the swing that knocked the breath out of me. When I do, a shiver ripples through me.
The snap and sting felt like thunder and lightning fusing themselves with my skin. Shooting through my veins, down my legs, sparking between my toes and the ground. I didn’t scream or cry. Both required energy I needed to breathe, and besides, our punishments were not for the Fellows to see or hear, just as our lessons weren’t.
I lost count of the lashes but remember hearing Nova tell Lark to keep going. She urged him on through sobs I could only hear. I was silent. Enduring. I lost track of my breaths, lost track of everything, but remember the sudden point when I could breathe again. I remember the ache of relief in my shoulders, the lift as if someone had placed a block under my feet. When I looked down, I was still a foot off the ground. When I looked up, I realized: I was flying.
Even now, I couldn’t tell you if it was real. I remember the thud of the cat against the floorboards and Nova’s gasp. The tickle of blood that slid down my exposed back. Her words, “It’s happening.”
A lightness settled into my head, my body unsure how to handle the situation. The last thing I remember before blacking out is the sensation of ropes peeling away from my wrists, strand by strand, like a braid coming undone.
After that, pain became a part of our lives, no longer a punishment. But, after that one stroke, Nova never laid a hand on us. She was careful like that. Once we showed signs of magic, she paired us off and gave us the tools we needed. Lark was eager to catch up, and it was only a few weeks later that his powers manifested too.
He’d poured cooking oil on his arm and lit it on fire. He was always like that—always pushing harder to improve. Devouring whatever Nova gave him. He loved his magic. I only tolerated mine.
5
LARK / NOW
“It’s called a Taser.” The FOE Kane called Agent Miller sets a hunk of metal on the table. It looks like a gun without a handle, but heavier. “It fires an electrical—”
“I know what it does.” I try to hold my breath while I talk, but it’s impossible. This whole room smells like her, like carpet mold and wood rot. I know it’s coming from Miller. She’s hard to look at. I’ve never been this close to a real live FOE; the ones that abducted me from Ritual House barely count. This one is facing me, and she is grotesque.
“I know about your crude outsider weapons,” I say, so she knows exactly what I think about Tasers and guns and smoke bombs.
“Of course. Forgive me…” She trails off, as if waiting for me to fill in the blank.
I wince, her words grinding through my brain like metal on metal. I can’t stand it—I have to stand it. This is what it means to be Anointed and go out into the world. I look down at the flimsy metal cuffs that fix my wrists to the leather chair I sit on. Agent Miller sits freely on the other side of a wooden table. I’m a threat and she knows it. No table, no cuffs, and no Taser will keep me from destroying her, her kind, and the monsters that roam this land. As soon as I escape this awful hotel, where everything feels close, false, oppressive.
“Why should I give my name to the enemy?”
“We already know your first name is Meadowlark,” the FOE says. If I focus on her words, rather than her sound, I can handle it better. It almost doesn’t hurt. “Your sibling Deryn was actually helpful.”
“Deryn is not—” I’m on my feet before I realize it, tugging at the rickety metal cuffs. Don’t expend more energy than necessary, Lark. Don’t give this FOE what she wants. With a deep breath, I sit. “Deryn is not my sibling. They’re a Fellow. They know nothing about me or Kane or Nova.”
I have to close my eyes and breathe to calm myself. Every time I inhale, I grow more used to the stench. This is how monsters get you.
Stars, I wish Kane were here. That he was himself again. I miss my partner. There is a hole inside me where he used to be, and I don’t know how to fill it. Why didn’t Nova prepare us for this? Or perhaps she did and I can’t remember. That must be it. Nova isn’t to blame, so it must be my fault. Be better, Lark. Work harder. Recall your training.
“They’re adamant that you are.” The FOE flips through her pad of notes. “Your parents’—”
“Nova raised me.” I feel rage boiling inside me. “I don’t have ‘parents.’”
“—names are Flora and Sky, correct?”
Overflowing, I shout, “The
Anointed are my family! You’re an outsider. A FOE.” The creeping feeling of disgust works its way under my skin and infuses itself into my words. “What makes you think you know me?”
Silence hangs between us like a thick fog. The FOE’s eyes flash black. Her skin blanches a pale white. Veins crawl like insects beneath it. I need to get out of here.
When she finally speaks, a pink warmth returns to her flesh. “I’ve studied the Fellowship my whole life, Meadowlark.” Her pupils return to their normal size. I don’t look at her veins, fighting the urge to reach for the weapons they took from me. If I happened upon this FOE in the wild, I’d split her up the seams. “And after multiple conversations with Kane and Deryn, I’m satisfied I’m more aware of its practices than you are. I, after all, was not brainwashed by a malicious cult leader.” She leans forward on her bony elbows, shoulders jutting out at unnatural angles. “Who, by the way, we have arrested, along with several Elders. I will see them locked up for good, with or without your help.”
I offer my bound wrists. “And am I under arrest?”
“Not yet.”
“Then release me. You’re holding me against my will. According to your own laws, I’m of legal age, and I want to go.” Another reason we wait until our quarter century. Outsiders have no dominion over us at that age.
“You’re being held as a witness. You’ll remain here until you’ve satisfied that obligation. If you prove you won’t attack anyone, we can take off the cuffs.”
“I won’t speak against Nova, but I will defend myself as necessary.”
“You slammed one of our agents against the wall so hard, they’re being treated for a concussion.”
“They blocked my way.”
“You stabbed a member of our SWAT team.”
“They were abducting me.” I relax back in my chair and stare at the FOE. I will not accept blame for what these outsiders have done to me, nor help them lock up Nova. That Kane and Deryn betrayed us only proves the power of monsters. The influence of FOEs. Their corruption.
She checks her watch, then says, “If you cooperate, this process will be much easier for you. I don’t want to keep you in cuffs, but I do need you to answer at least some informational questions. You can decline any you’re not ready to address yet. How does that sound?”
I look between her and the door. At my hands fastened to a chair with feeble metal I should be able to break with a quick spell. All I’m able to dredge up is anger. No pain. Only an empty well where magic usually resides within me. I’m going to help outsiders the only way they can be helped. The way I was born to. By taking up my quest. By slaying one monster after another until they’re all dead and the people of this land are liberated. That is what Nova raised me and the other Anointed to do.
I just need to get out of this room, out of this building, and on the road. For Kane. I need to humor this FOE so they’ll release me from these cuffs.
“Fine.” I relax my hands on the arms of my chair as if they’re not restrained. Let the outsiders remember I can throw people out of my way with almost no effort. They don’t need to know I’m depleted. That my magic feels different out here, beyond Nova’s wards.
“Thank you.” The FOE opens a notebook. I draw in a deep breath to remind myself of her stench. If I grow used to it, she’s got me. “Were you born on Druid Hill, or did you move there?”
“I was born there.” I choose not to elaborate.
“I know you can’t all have been born there, since Nova’s only owned the land for thirty years, according to property records, but what about the others? I’m specifically interested in those under thirty. Not the Elders.” I hate how she almost looks human, sitting there, writing notes. This is how she lured Kane into complacency and corrupted him. “We don’t have a birth certificates on file for the majority of the Fellowship of the Anointed.”
“Did Kane tell you our name?” I try not to sit up straighter—not to appear interested.
“Yes, but we already knew; everyone in Baltimore knows about you,” the FOE says. “You live on a big hill in the middle of our city. Druid Hill used to be a public park—people were outraged when the government sold it.”
“We work for their own good,” I say. “If you know about us, then you must know our purpose is to save humanity from the corruption of monsters.”
The FOE holds her pen at the ready. “And how do you intend to do that?” Her question is a challenge, but this is sacred knowledge I studied for years to grasp. No normal person could understand it after one interview, and I’m certainly not exposing our secrets to a FOE.
Even when this FOE called Miller behaves like a human, repulsion tugs at my upper lip. “With magic. And weapons.”
“Can we rewind?” she says.
I don’t know what rewind means, but I play along. “Sure.”
“I want to talk about your powers.”
“They’re real.” I leave space for my assertion to sink in. “In case you plan to tell me they’re not.”
“Is it possible,” says the FOE, leaning forward, “that Nova has only convinced you they’re real?”
Her voice drips with pity I neither want nor need. This is useless—this whole conversation. Nova said outsiders wouldn’t believe us. Not that we were acting in their best interests, nor that we were Anointed. She warned us about their zealots and skeptics. That I could literally work magic in front of them and they wouldn’t see it. Well, I know myself and I’m not going to waste time or magical energy proving their ignorance to them. I don’t care if Miller believes me, I just need her to uncuff me.
“I suppose anything’s possible,” I say. “But why should I believe you over what I know to be true of myself? Evidence I can not only see with my own eyes, but feel—literally feel—like a muscle burning in my body?” I can humor outsiders all they want, but they’ll never understand. “I’m done. Take me back to my room—leave the cuffs on if you insist.” I relax my arms.
“We’ll resume tomorrow, after I’ve gathered more testimony from your friends.” To my surprise, Miller unlocks the cuffs. “You’re to stay in your hotel room. No more escape attempts, or I will put these back on. Understand?”
The FOE’s sudden cooperation doesn’t fool me. When she reached to uncuff me, her arms folded in ways a human’s shouldn’t, eyes absent, visage jumping against the static of her pose. Unlike Kane, I will not forget. I don’t want to become part of this world beyond the fence. I want to go home for another two months and however-many days—I’ve even lost track of time—until my quarter century. I want Nova free from their outsider prison; she is not for them to judge. I want Kane back the way he was—uncorrupted, powerful, mine—and I want my fellow Anointed, my true family, around me. We were never meant to live in isolation, separated in this land of monsters.
* * *
I’m alone, again. I don’t know where Kane is or when he’s coming back—if he’s coming back. Don’t know how I feel about that either. After our last conversation—I wince as I hear none of it’s real again and again, even when I bury my head under the pillows on my extravagantly large bed. But I miss him. Or, at least, I miss who he was.
The back of my neck prickles. I know that sensation, but my head swells with pain—I’ve barely any magic to receive the spell. A voice slices through me like a shard of glass, and I cry out, clenching the pillows so tight against me, I can’t breathe.
<
I press my fingers against my temples as the voice comes again.
<
“I can hear you,” I say before realizing she probably can’t hear me. She’s using mindspeech—that’s why it hurts. My depleted body is dragging up any magic it can find. “Hold on.”
There’s nothing in this hotel room I can use to recharge my magic. Usually, Kane does it. Usually we’re in a safe space, with clean tools that were made for this purpose.
<
I slide open the closet do
or. Looks like outsiders removed the hangers, but on the top shelf rests a plastic triangular object with a metal plate and a dangling cord, and I’d bet anything that plate gets hot.
When I plug it in, a red light shines. I hold my hand an inch from the plate to make sure it’s heating up, then take off my pants. If I burn myself where the FOE Miller can see, she won’t let me go, I just know it. Her whole game is a play to corrupt me. She doesn’t know how far I’m willing to go to complete my quest. It’s the only way any of us can really be free.
<
I grind my teeth together as their voices slice through me—if I don’t recharge soon, my body will use itself up. I glance around the room one last time for anything I can bite down on, but this place is ill-equipped for practicing magic, so I grab my sweatpants and stuff as much fabric in my mouth as I can.
Hand trembling, I hold the plate against my thigh until I smell my flesh burning and then I press it against the other one. Cotton muffles my moans as the pain builds, and power with it. It’s more effective if you don’t rest between applications. Otherwise it’s too easy to tell yourself enough.
I stop when Maeve and Zadie’s voices no longer hurt to hear. When all the pain settles and transforms into power. I yank the cord from the wall without getting up and set the device down. My hands are red and shaking. I need to get into a cool bath, but I’m not sure I can walk to the tub. I’m not used to caring for myself afterward. That’s why Kane and I have each other. Why Maeve and Zadie have each other.
This time, my power comes effortlessly when I call. <
<
<
