In the Shadows

by Kiersten White

  Thom looked to the girls, but Cora was focused entirely on

  Minnie, and Minnie was staring at Arthur with a frightened look

  on her face.

  Thom turned to Arthur, who met his eyes. He walked to the

  other boy, leaned in as close as he could to Arthur’s ear. “We trick

  her. I’ll tell her it’s for me. We get the spell and then we do it on

  Charles.”

  “Charles doesn’t want it.”

  “I don’t care what he thinks he wants! If I can save my brother,

  I’m going to!”

  Arthur leaned back, then shook his head. “No.”

  Desperate, Thom turned to Minnie. He knew Charles was in

  love with her. If anyone could convince him to take a chance, to

  accept this altered life, she could. “Minnie.” He begged her with

  his eyes, and she looked from him to Charles. “Please.”

  “Would it be so bad?” she whispered, putting her hand on

  Charles’s cheek. “It couldn’t change who you are. You’re not your

  father.”

  Charles looked uncertain. Thom seized on the moment. “I’ll

  do it,” he said, holding out his hand to Mary. “Give me the spell.”

  “No,” Arthur said, his voice cold and determined. “Don’t give

  it to him, Mary. He wants it for Charles.”

  “What are you doing?” Thom turned to him, horrified.

  “I can’t let you waste it.”

  “Waste it? My brother’s life is a waste?”

  “It has to be used to take down the Ladon Vitae. They have to

  be stopped. They have to pay. Charles won’t do that. I’m sorry, but

  I won’t let him take this.”

  “Who says it’s your choice?” Thom moved to grab Arthur’s

  collar, but Arthur was faster, ducking under Thom’s arm and

  bringing his fist up into Thom’s stomach. The air left his lungs in

  a painful whoosh.

  “It has to be me.” Arthur walked past Thom toward Mary,

  whose face was alight with a beatific joy.

  “No,” Thom growled, grabbing Arthur’s arm and throwing

  him to the ground. Arthur’s face bounced off of the sharp rocks

  there, a crescent cut over his eye already beginning to bleed freely.

  “I’m sorry,” Arthur whispered, then kicked out at Thom’s

  knee. Lights exploded in Thom’s vision as the pain burst through

  his body.

  Chicago,

  26 Days Ago

  twenty-four

  T

  homas!” Cora cried, dropping to the ground next to him.

  Thomas clutched his knee in agony. He wouldn’t be able

  to walk, not on his own.

  And he wouldn’t be able to stop Arthur.

  Mary’s hungry look was tinged with sadness as she watched

  them all.

  “Give it to me,” Arthur said, standing up and wiping his eye-

  brow free of the blood that was stinging his eye.

  “Arthur, no.” Minnie put herself between Arthur and Mary,

  taking his hands in hers. He tried to avoid her eyes but she wouldn’t

  let him, forcing him to look at her. “No. You heard her — you

  can’t come back. Not if you choose this. We’ll lose you.”

  His voice came out far calmer than he thought it would. Look-

  ing at Minnie, he realized just how much he would be giving up to

  devote himself to this new path. “I have to. They killed my father.

  I can’t let them get away. And it’s the only way to know you’ll be

  safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you, not again.”

  “You’re hurting me,” she whispered.

  Now his voice caught in his throat, a solid lump of pain lodged

  there.

  She went on. “You’ll have to leave us. All of us. Who knows

  when you’ll come back?”

  “I’ll hunt them down and finish this. As fast as I can.”

  Minnie’s eyes glistened with tears. “But . . . what if the per-

  son who comes back isn’t you anymore? Arthur, you’re not just

  sacrificing Charles’s only chance at living. You’re sacrificing

  your own soul. You’re going into the dark and I’m scared —

  I’m so scared you’ll never be able to come home. It can’t be

  worth it.”

  Arthur leaned toward her. He wanted to take her in his arms,

  to kiss her, to tell her that he would choose her. But he couldn’t.

  The rage and pain burned too bleakly in his heart. The Ladon

  Vitae had taken everything from him. And now he would lose

  Minnie. But he’d make them pay. He’d end this.

  “It’s worth it to me,” he said.

  Minnie stumbled back as though Arthur had struck her.

  “Arthur,” Cora started, but Minnie shook her head.

  “No,” she said. “Leave him. He isn’t choosing us.”

  Cora and Charles stood, balancing Thomas between

  them. He hopped as well as he could, and when they passed near

  Arthur, Thomas muttered, “I hope your immortal life is hell.”

  Mary watched them leave, but put a hand out to stop Minnie.

  Arthur didn’t know what to say, couldn’t say anything. He had to

  create a world in which Minnie was safe. He had to create a world

  in which his father’s murder and his mother’s madness were

  avenged. He wished, more than anything, he could be like Charles,

  so that simply living with what he had, simply loving Minnie,

  could be enough.

  “Poor child,” Mary cooed. “It is the sharpest, deepest cut of

  all, isn’t it? I wouldn’t wish love on anyone. It carves a hole in you

  that can never be filled.”

  “He’ll be alone,” Minnie said, not looking at Arthur. He didn’t

  know whether it hurt more to have her avoid his eyes or force him

  to see the pain there. “I would have waited for him. Forever.”

  Mary put her face down, her forehead against Minnie’s. Arthur

  couldn’t stand the aching to go to her, not anymore, so he turned

  and faced the wall of the cavern. Now that it was quiet, the wind

  whispered secrets, soft sibilant noises just short of words.

  When he let himself look, Minnie was gone.

  Mary passed a hand over her eyes, her shoulders slumped wea-

  rily. “You must do something for me, after.”

  “Anything.”

  “Take me out on the ocean. Weigh me down with rocks, and

  drop me into the depths.”

  Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

  “If I cannot die, at least I can finally sleep. Cold, dark, empty

  sleep, until the end comes.”

  He started to shake his head, but she looked at him with such

  hope he found he couldn’t deny her this last terrible request.

  “At least my destruction is one of peace and rest. Unlike

  yours.” Smiling, Mary pulled the scarab beetle pendant out of her

  pocket and draped it over Arthur’s head. “Are you ready?”

  He swallowed, then nodded.

  He was.

  twenty-five

  T

  he waves lapped at the rocks, nearly reaching

  their feet where they had stopped. Thom couldn’t

  go any farther on his leg, and Charles needed to rest as

  well. Thom sat, heavy with the weight of failure.

  “It’s over,” Charles said.

  “Oh, Charles.” Thom hung his head. “I’m so sorry. If I’d been

  faster, or cleverer, or —”

&nbs
p; He was rewarded with a small rock bouncing off his shoulder.

  “Don’t be daft. I meant it in a good way. As good as can be, given

  the circumstances. We’re free.”

  “Not all of us,” Minnie whispered, standing apart from the

  other three, her back to them and her toes in the water.

  “That was his choice.” Cora took Thom’s hand in her own.

  She radiated both sadness and peace, and Thom found her skin

  infinitely comforting. “He could have come with us. But he chose

  to keep his fate tied to them. And I’m very sorry for it.” She

  squeezed Thom’s fingers. “What will you do now?”

  “We aren’t going home, if that’s what you mean.” He couldn’t

  think on his father without feeling sick to his stomach. Whatever the

  Ladon Vitae had done, whatever horrible webs they had woven

  around him, it didn’t matter. In the end, he hadn’t fought for his

  sons. Thom would never go back to him. Neither he nor Charles

  would so much as write to the man to let him know of their escape.

  “Stay with us. At the boardinghouse. Mother will let you stay

  on as long as you want. And now that Arth — well, we could use

  two smart men around the place.”

  Charles nodded solemnly. “I’m happy to do it, but you’ll have

  to put out an advertisement for the second smart-man role. I don’t

  know where you’ll find another.”

  Cora laughed, and with the sound some of the pressure

  released from Thom’s chest. They were alive, and safe, and free.

  They still had each other.

  Charles would die. He knew that. But while he was alive, he would

  be happy, and that was enough for him.

  Thom was already calculating how long an appropriate courtship

  would last before he could make Cora his bride.

  Cora would say yes, happily, finally freed from the burden of guilt

  that had pulled on her for so long.

  Minnie watched the ocean, where, at the place where the caves

  jutted out into the water, a small, dark craft had launched into the

  water. She would make Charles’s last months filled with light and

  joy. She would make Cora take herself less seriously. She would

  encourage the romance between her sister and Thomas. And she

  would wait for the return of a person she never expected to see

  again.

  When she turned back to the others, she smiled, and they were

  all so relieved that none of them saw the dark, empty void that had

  taken up residence in her soul, the choices before her. Mary had been

  right. Loving someone really was the worst sort of agony.

  And she could never stop.

  “At least we have each other,” Charles said, holding his hand

  out to Minnie. She took it, taking Cora’s in her other. Linked thus,

  they all thought the same thing, but no one spoke it:

  Arthur had no one now.

  Chicago,

  18 Days Ago

  twenty-six

  H

  E DIDN'T HAVE MUCH TIME BEFORE THE OTHERS CAME

  BACK. It wasn’t dawn yet, but the hired carriage waited

  for him outside.

  He traced his hand along the contours of his attic room, know-

  ing that he was about to leave it behind forever.

  He couldn’t account for how he felt — for how it had felt

  when Mary had said the words and changed him. In part it seemed

  as though he were trapped in a waking dream. Everything around

  him was slow and oddly lit, as though anticipating the sunrise.

  He was deeply aware of the beating of his own heart and, in a

  strange way he’d never before noticed, the very pull of the earth

  beneath him.

  He had miles to go yet. Miles and miles.

  Reaching up, he put a finger tenderly to his eye, but the cut

  was already healed. Only a scar remained. It struck him as appro-

  priate, that his last moments as a mortal would mark him forever.

  Gathering his father’s things, he packed them into his travel-

  ing case. Paintings of various members. A list of contacts they had,

  including Mr. Wolcott. A list of locations his father was certain

  the Ladon Vitae visited ritualistically. It was a starting point, but

  if the Ladon Vitae only met every ten years, he might never be in

  the right place at the right time.

  It wasn’t enough to go on, and a sense of despair pulled at him.

  How could he end something unending?

  He fell back onto his pillow and heard an odd rustling. Reach-

  ing beneath it, he found Mary’s forgotten letters. The return

  address was in a hand he now knew to be Alden’s. A flat in Lon-

  don. It was a starting point, and he took it as a sign he was on the

  right trail.

  Tucked into the letters, though, was something new. A

  photo of —

  Arthur sat up. A photo of Minnie, perfectly preserved from

  the beginning of summer. Her face was serene, placid; not

  even holding still for the exposure could dampen the light in

  her eyes.

  He had done that all on his own.

  He turned it around to find a scrawling note, written in a

  hand that could only be Mary’s:

  Fear the men, not the monster. Free the demon and free us all.

  The demon. Mary had whispered about it as he slowly rowed

  her out to the ocean. Arthur thought she was just ranting, but now

  he wondered if she wasn’t telling him how to destroy his immortal

  enemies.

  “None of us are what we seem,” she had said. “Least of all the

  demon. Poor sweet thing, ancient nightmare caught, then caged

  in flesh and blood for all of us to live off. You’d look right at him

  and never know. I wonder if I’m a monster inside, too? What does

  my skin hide?” She’d scratched at her arm until it bled, then sighed

  and continued wrapping chains around her ankles. “So hard to

  find. But you’ll release us all, won’t you?”

  Arthur shuddered, thinking of Mary’s idea of release. He owed

  it to her — to everyone — to figure out the clues, to chase Alden

  down, to find this demon and free it. To end the Ladon Vitae once

  and for all.

  The carriage was waiting. Closing his case, he climbed out the

  window. If he walked past the rooms where he had had a home for

  the first time in so many years, where he had been happy, he didn’t

  think he could go through with it.

  This was best. He would leave Minnie, Cora, and Mrs.

  Johnson. He would leave Thomas and Charles and trust them to

  take care of the girls in his absence. He would leave.

  It was not lost on him that he was leaving the house the same

  way he had arrived: alone and afraid.

  But this time he knew what he would do with the path he

  was on.

  In the Périgord Noir,

  France, Last Week

  twenty-seven

  C

  ORA AND THOMAS FOND IN EACH OTHER SOMEONE TO

  BOTH TAKE CARE OF AND BE TAKEN CARE OF BY, AND

  THEY WERE HAPPY AND CONTENT AND HAD RIDICU-

  LOUSLY FAT BABIES WHOSE LAUGHTER WAS LIKE LIQUID JOY.

  Thomas became a musician, and, after the boardinghouse burned

  down, their family moved to New York. But they returned, staying

&nbs
p; every summer with Minnie like the terrible tourists they’d always

  looked down on.

  Charles lingered on for longer than any doctors predicted.

  Minnie stayed by his side and was with him for his last cheery

  breath, taken just after making a joke at his brother’s expense.

  He was mourned the way he lived: with gratitude for the time

  he’d had.

  Minnie was left alone. But she held on to a secret, one she

  hadn’t shared with even her sister.

  Mary had given her a choice.

  That night in the cavern, Mary had pulled her close and whis-

  pered of the pain and horror of love. And then she had given

  Minnie the spell, the words that would let her live forever so that

  Arthur wouldn’t have to go on his dark path alone.

  But Minnie didn’t know what to choose. By the time Charles

  was gone and Minnie realized she could not live her life know-

  ing Arthur would be alone forever, she had no way of finding him.

  Arthur had disappeared, and with him the clues to tracking the

  Ladon Vitae.

  In her heart of hearts, though, Minnie knew she had promised

  Arthur something. She would wait for him.

  Forever.

  And so, on a quiet night, in the solitude of the trees by the

  witch’s house she now claimed as her own, Minnie alone stepped

  out of the path of time and onto the lonely path of immortality to

  wait for Arthur to come home.

  Minnie waited. She watched her sister and brother-in-law

  grow old and gray, and then watched her nieces and nephews do

  the same. She stopped attending funerals, because they became

  too many. She became very adept at forging official documents

  and new birth certificates, and the town that had always harbored

  a small share of magic turned a blind eye to their new witch.

  And while she waited, she wrote the stories of her town, the

  stories of her childhood, the stories of her long, long years. She

  sent the books out into the world along with her hopes that

  Arthur would find them and know he wasn’t alone.

  She didn’t just write. She read. Minnie couldn’t track the

  Ladon Vitae, but she learned enough to know that if someone