War of the Networks

by Katie Cross

  “Merrick! The Wall!” I cried, ducking. The Gatehouse crumbled in a deafening roar, sending a flood of dust and rubble into the forest. Once it settled, Merrick grabbed me by the arm and jerked me to my feet. Dust covered his face and chest.

  “Your father!” he said, pointing to a segment of the Wall that still stood.

  I whirled around to see Papa’s face strained and taut as he fought with two West Guards. Sweat dripped down his neck. He clenched his teeth and squinted, struggling to maintain the counter magic while physically fighting. Tiberius kept himself between Papa and a third West Guard as large as he was. On Papa’s other side, Zane battled three West Guards. The West Guards in the forest clambered over the stones that had once been the Gatehouse, flooding Chatham Castle. They’d only need a half hour to overtake the castle and destroy the Central Network at this rate.

  The heavyset West Guard fighting Tiberius grabbed him by the throat, forcing him to his knees. Tiberius’s arms swung for purchase, but the West Guard used magic to conjure a black cord that snaked around Tiberius’s thick body, pinning his arms to his side.

  “Tiberius!” I screamed.

  The West Guard slammed his shoe onto Tiberius’s face and pushed. Tiberius disappeared over the side of the Wall. He fell into the undergrowth just as his opponent advanced on Papa, who didn’t see him. I dropped to one knee, held Viveet in the air above my head, and transported. I appeared in front of Papa just as the massive West Guard swung his sword. Instead of killing Papa, the sword connected with Viveet. I sent a rush of power through her metal body, and a burst of hot flame rolled through the air. Both weapons shattered in an overpowering rush of magic, sending the West Guard and me flying in opposite directions. A painful shock reverberated through my arms, into my shoulders, and down my body.

  I will win.

  I hovered in a moment of darkness, disoriented. The chant of Mabel’s mind beckoned to me. In my weakened state, I couldn’t fight her. The staunch voice wavered just slightly, pulling me into her silken darkness.

  I … will win.

  Papa, I thought, trying to force myself back into my own mind. I cannot leave Papa.

  Using all my strength, I jolted out of the current dragging me into Mabel’s madness and jerked back into the battle. Merrick appeared, put his foot on the West Guard’s neck, and stabbed him through the heart.

  “Viveet!” I cried, scrambling through the bits of metal to grab her intricate hilt.

  I had no time to mourn the loss of my loyal weapon. The darkness of Mabel’s mind overpowered me until I felt lightheaded. The air grew heavy, so thick I could barely breathe. Her voice rang through my mind with stunning authority.

  I will win.

  I looked up at the sky.

  Mabel was here.

  I Will Win

  Mabel descended from the clouds on the bent backs of three Clavas.

  A silky black dress enshrouded her, undulating in midnight waves. The battles below ceased one by one, leaving an eerie quiet on the baileys as every eye turned to Mabel. The Clavas hissed but retreated to the skies, forming a cloud behind her. Papa stepped forward, toward the burnt hole that had once been the Gatehouse, his chest heaving and his body smeared with blood. The Clavas carrying Mabel stopped, hovering just above the Wall, a few paces away from Papa.

  “Merry meet, Derek Black,” Mabel said with her usual coy smile, her eyes flaming bright red. “I’ve come to accept the terms of your surrender.”

  “Antebellum will never surrender to you,” he said. “Will you run away to let other witches fight your battles like usual?”

  She tipped her head back and laughed, her blonde curls cascading down her back in a golden dance. All at once, her mirth faded. She dropped all fake pretenses of amusement.

  “You want to fight me?”

  “Yes,” he said, gripping his sword with a smile. “I do.”

  I started forward, a cry of protest lodged in my throat. Merrick grabbed my arm and hauled me back.

  “No, Bianca,” he whispered. “This is your father’s fight. He has the counter magic, not you.”

  “I won’t take the chance. I won’t lose him!”

  “You have to,” he said in my ear. “What are you going to do? You can’t save the Central Network. You’ll be nothing but a distraction. Derek can do this.”

  I didn’t know how to answer. Mabel regarded Papa through cruel, haughty eyes. Her hellish Clava minions writhed beneath her in pools of black. They seemed to absorb the light, bringing a nightmarish sense of darkness to the castle.

  “Are you ready to give your life for this Network, Derek?” she asked.

  “I already have.”

  The Clavas beneath her dispersed with wild howls, leaving Mabel on the top of the Wall. Merrick tightened his hold on my shoulder.

  “Merrick,” I whispered, digging my fingers into his arm. “I can’t lose Papa.”

  “Just believe in him, B. Give him a chance.”

  “I can’t lose him.”

  “You won’t.”

  “Oh, Derek,” Mabel crooned. “I’ve destroyed the Central Network despite your best efforts. You’ll never be more powerful than I. Submit yourself to my will and fall to your knees.”

  She sent a percussive wave of black shadows at Papa. They rippled through the air, knocking down everything in their path. The shadows slammed into Merrick and me, sending us flying into the Wall. A crack of pain ricocheted through my spine when I collided with the stones and collapsed to the ground. When I scrambled back to my feet, Papa remained untouched. A familiar witch stood in front of him. My breath caught in my throat when I saw her short, stocky frame.

  “Mildred,” I whispered.

  The late High Priestess had a wispy, thin quality, like millions of pinpricks of light made up her form. Somehow Papa—or the counter magic—had conjured her to protect him. She stared at Mabel while the Clavas wheeled away, writhing and shrieking in the intense glow of her light.

  “Do you doubt me now, Mabel?” Papa asked, his voice booming. “Do you have the strength to fight against the one who holds the counter magic?”

  Mabel’s jaw tightened when Papa reached inside his armor and extracted a set of small scrolls. Their brilliance dazzled me. I shielded my eyes with a hand, blinded by the light shooting from the scrolls. They floated high in the air. The strength of the Almorran magic faded away, allowing me to suck in the first deep breath I’d taken in some time. My vision sharpened. Everything appeared to be more vibrant and have more precise detail, right down to the shades of gray in the stones beneath my hand.

  Ten Clavas zipped in front of Mabel, obscuring her face, their mouths gaping in high-pitched screams of pain. Their bodies shriveled into dust. More Clavas flew up to replace them.

  “You’ll never win!” Mabel screamed from behind the protective wall of the undead. “Never!”

  A horde of Clavas gathered in the low bailey and flew at Papa. Mildred dissipated in a glittering cloud and reformed into a dragon that spewed white-hot fire. The Clavas were incinerated in seconds, vanishing in black smoke.

  “Merrick!” I cried, grabbing his arm. “That dragon! That’s the blue!”

  The dragon of light hovered in front of Papa. His distinctive face and fierce expression gave me a moment of strength. Mabel barked commands in the Almorran language from behind the Clavas, and a third collection of screeching wraiths headed toward Papa. The blue dragon breathed a plume of glimmering light and flew in a circle, spewing lines of light around Papa that repelled Mabel’s curses until they sparked and fizzled into nothing.

  Her scream tore through the air. “I don’t care how!” she cried. “Just kill Derek Black!”

  The West Guards hesitated, their eyes averted from Papa’s glowing form.

  “Cowards!” Mabel yelled. The Clavas and West Guards nearest her began to seize in pain and fell to their knees. “Must I do everything myself?”

  A black arrow appeared in her hand. She threw it, striking the glowing
dragon right in the heart. The magic scattered in a million prisms of light, falling on the baileys below, leaving Papa open and unprotected. A great pressure seemed to fall on his shoulders, as if she was trying to force him to his knees.

  “Bow to me, Derek Black!” Mabel said. “Give me your allegiance and your power!”

  Papa’s legs trembled as he resisted. His nostrils flared. The light glowing from within him wavered for just a moment as magic battled magic. His left knee buckled, but he caught himself before it dropped. Mabel’s face flickered in the darkness, lit by the flames of the scrolls hovering above.

  “No!” I cried.

  A line of light burst out from Papa’s chest and spread outward, striking Mabel in the heart. She flew back, toppling head over heels before righting herself by hovering in the air. Papa sprinted forward, swinging his sword, but Mabel transported away, leaving him to slice through vapors. In the distance, the Clavas howled. Mabel appeared behind Papa, a second black arrow in her raised arms.

  “Papa!” I yelled. “Behind you!”

  Thousands of specks of light appeared between Papa and Mabel, sending Mabel flying back again. A form took shape in the light. A familiar willowy witch with restless black hair stood in front of Papa, her wide eyes intent on Mabel. Though she was made up of fractals of light, her eyes were still a warm, cloudy gray. Mabel paused, her eyes narrowed in surprise.

  “Mama,” I whispered, my throat tight. “That’s … Mama.”

  Mabel’s fingers fluttered as another black arrow formed in her hand. “No,” I whispered, stepping forward. Mabel was going to destroy Mama, just like Mildred and the blue dragon. They hadn’t come back. Mabel threw the arrow.

  “No!” I shouted, but it was too late. The black arrow struck Mama in the heart. The glowing dots dissipated. I fell to my knees when another siren call from Mabel’s mind threatened to pull me in.

  I must win.

  The certainty in Mabel’s chanting had faded. She was tiring. No, I thought, pulling myself away with all my strength. I won’t be part of your madness anymore.

  Papa attempted to conjure another protection spell, but the glowing dots fizzled into nothing. He pitched forward, barely catching himself. His shoulders bowed under great pressure again. He was losing. Mabel’s eyes glowed with maniacal fury.

  I will … I will prove my worth.

  Despite the weight pressing on him, Papa pushed himself off the ground, his legs trembling as he struggled to stand.

  “He won’t make it,” I whispered, pushing away the darkness that tried to suck me in again. Merrick made no response. Mabel’s voice cut through my mind with increasing tenacity, as if she meant to take over my mind by pulling me into hers.

  The Central Network is mine!

  Papa let out a shout. Sweat rained down his face.

  Not if I can help it, I thought. “Merrick,” I said, putting a hand on his arm. “I’m going to distract Mabel.”

  His eyes snapped onto mine. “Bianca—”

  “Papa won’t make it if I don’t,” I said, pressing a hand to my pounding head.

  “What if you die with Mabel?” Merrick asked.

  If I die, I die. But Merrick wouldn’t stand for that answer. “I won’t.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Papa continued to struggle, his legs growing weak. Mabel tilted her head back and laughed. It didn’t matter if I survived my last foray into Mabel’s mind. Without Papa, the Central Network would fall.

  “This will give him a chance. Trust me, Merrick. You have to go to him. Tell Papa to kill her. He’ll feel her powers lessening as she turns some of her attention to me. She’s tiring. It may not seem like it, but she is. As soon as he feels a lessening, he needs to act.”

  I touched Merrick’s face with the tips of my fingers and gave into the overpowering pull of Mabel’s mind before he could protest.

  Entering Mabel’s consciousness felt like dipping into a warm pond. The battle of her own mind pulled back and forth in a tug of war between an irate Mabel and a weary one.

  So tired.

  I will win! I’m so close. I will prove I’m better than all of them.

  Then I shall sleep. I shall find the peace I’ve sought for … so long.

  I’m better than May.

  So tired.

  Though I thought of Merrick and Camille to keep my own mind fresh, I sank into the pain of Mabel’s existence. Maintaining ties to my own personality wasn’t as difficult this time. The delineation between us had grown. Either that or Isadora was right, and I had strengths greater than Mabel’s.

  What comes next, Mabel? I asked, interrupting her internal dialogue. What will you do when you win?

  The voices stopped, pausing in a long moment of silence.

  Why are you here? she hissed. Do you want to share in my greatness?

  No, I said. Your time for greatness has passed.

  Then let us sleep, said the weary voice.

  No! I shall never rest! I shall conquer the Central Network.

  Mabel’s frenetic energy drowned out everything else. The voices spoke over each other with surprising intensity. I could barely decipher the words.

  You were so lonely, I said. Just a child who wanted love.

  Yes, weary Mabel said, surprised. I was lonely.

  But I’m not lonely as the Almorran Master, you fools!

  You didn’t understand why May didn’t love you, did you? I asked, ignoring the irate Mabel and prodding the quiet, vulnerable voice that spoke so softly.

  No, she whispered. I didn’t understand.

  Sharing her mind, feeling her vulnerable confusion for a third time made me realize that I’d been trying to categorize Mabel wrongly all along—she was neither merely a bitter witch nor a lost child. She was both. While she’d chosen to kill those I loved, she hadn’t chosen a horrible childhood. One side of her personality, I realized, could not negate the other.

  I didn’t do anything wrong, she whispered.

  She was terrible to me, came the soft, childlike voice. Mother left me. She left me for her other family. And it must have been my fault.

  No, I said. It wasn’t your fault.

  Then why did she leave me?

  I will show all of them! said the frantic Mabel. Her words had slowed and lost some of their hysterical edge. I will … I will prove that I’m better than my mother. I … deserve May’s love! I’ve worked hard for her approval.

  Leave!

  I battled a second wave of pain by picturing Leda and Camille. Mama’s gray eyes. Memories spun through Mabel’s mind at such a rapid speed I only caught glimpses of them. Crying in the dark. Burning arms. Scars. Mocking laughter. A growling stomach. I thought of Papa, of Merrick, of Letum Wood, of anything to keep me from getting lost in the frightening pull of her agony. She was losing control over her own mind. Her obsession with the magic turned to fear.

  Leave my mind! Mabel screamed. Leave me, Bianca. Leave now! The magic will not tolerate you here!

  Why did she leave me? Mabel’s young voice cried, wavering into a final, keening sob. Why did she leave me?

  The world went dark.

  I woke with a gasp.

  “B?” Merrick asked, crouching over me. “Are you all right?”

  Mabel lay prostrate on the ground a few paces away, her arms flung wide, Papa’s sword embedded in her side. I leaped to my feet and scrambled over the rubble separating the two of us, lightheaded but coherent.

  Blood trickled from both of Mabel’s nostrils and pooled on her upper lip. A cough rattled deep in her chest. Her dying eyes flickered to me. The color had seeped out of her skin, leaving her face translucent. Veins tracked across her cheeks like the lacy fingers of a spiderweb.

  “What are you … doing?” she hissed with a gasp.

  Blood stained her once-perfect teeth, which had begun to decay. Her skin puckered and wrinkled as she stopped maintaining the magic that made her beautiful, revealing the old woman I’d seen in the dungeons of Chatham
Castle. She lay like a pathetic raisin, shriveled and alone, surrounded by ash and blood. I fell to my knees at her side.

  “No one should die alone,” I whispered, placing a shaking hand on top of hers. “Not even you.”

  Tears filled her wide, bloodshot eyes. She coughed, and flecks of blood appeared on her lips. Her nostrils flared. She gurgled with every breath.

  “Oh, Bianca darling,” she whispered, her pale lips barely moving. “You know as well … as anyone. There will be no peace … for my soul.”

  Tears clouded my vision. She struggled to take in another breath as she stared at the smoky sky. Not even my hatred could overcome my compassion for such a tortured soul.

  “I feel nothing,” she whispered. “It’s much … easier that way.”

  Her chest stopped moving. Her eyes, still the same brilliant blue as the summer sky, stared out at nothing.

  A crippling, consuming pity swept over me. Mabel had never really lived or loved, and now she never would. She’d been vile and full of vitriol, but she had once been a little girl who only wanted acceptance. My hand still trembled when I reached out and closed her eyes.

  “Merry part, Mabel,” I said, a tear flowing down my face. “May you fare better on the other side.”

  A hand rested on my shoulder. Papa stood behind me, his body shaking. He looked like he was two shades away from death. I glanced around. The Clavas were gone. The oppressive air had lifted, and I felt light. In the distance, I could hear shouting and celebration.

  “It’s over,” Papa whispered in a husky voice, squeezing my shoulder. He fell to his knees next to me. I felt a vast emptiness, a fatigue I couldn’t put into words.

  “Yes,” I said, grabbing his bloody hand. “Yes, it is.”

  Moving Forward

  Sunlight streamed down from a pristine blue sky when Papa walked up to me, a book in his hand. The scent of fall hung in the air, making my mouth water for pumpkin pie. Even though the war was over, we were still recovering, and novelties like pie were a long way away. I straightened, setting aside the book I’d been reading. Reeves puttered in the background, muttering under his breath and casting furious glares at the wall above the fireplace.