Tris & Izzie

by Mette Ivie Harrison

  It wasn’t as big as I had hoped. I was afraid of hitting Branna, but luckily, the fireball hit the giant in the shoulder. He batted it down, and then his hand was on fire. It was the hand that held Branna.

  “You see? You are going to die, giant,” said Branna, tucking herself away from the fire as much as she could.

  Was he going to be fooled by her charade long enough for me to send another fireball? Were the police and the other rescuers going to stay away long enough to give me a clear field?

  I hoped so.

  This time, instead of trying to send out one big fireball, I sent out a shower of them, one after another. It didn’t take as much strength that way, and the giant couldn’t avoid them all. They peppered him, and at first he just hopped on one foot or made a face. But they kept hitting him.

  He dropped Branna. “Not Magic,” he said, and turned toward me.

  I jumped to the next clump of cars as he reached down and threw the flagpole in my direction. Whether he had bad eyesight or not, he speared the place where I had been perfectly. It was unnerving, looking at the flagpole shivering in the ground exactly where I had crouched a moment before.

  “Magic!” shouted the giant. “Come fight me. Coward!”

  But I kept up the fireballs. Small and steady does the trick.

  For a second, I stopped, because I couldn’t see Branna, and I was afraid she was in the way. But then she limped around the giant, toward the doors to the music room on the north side of the building. So she was still alive, still moving.

  I kept up the attack.

  The giant kept throwing things in random directions, desperate. Then finally, he fell down. The fireball that did him in went straight into his eye and must have bored into his head. I watched him for several seconds to make sure he didn’t get back up, but I didn’t touch him or check to see if he was still breathing. I figured he would try to attack again if he could. He hadn’t seemed the type to fake dead and try to get away.

  His body was still smoldering on the ground when I saw Mark and Tristan run forward, ducking down so they wouldn’t be seen by any of the police cars.

  Chapter 21

  I looked toward where Branna had gone, but she wasn’t visible above the rubble. I figured she must have gotten inside the school somehow. Mark was where I had last seen her, and I thought he would go inside, too.

  There were wires hanging everywhere, from the street-lights the giant had taken out. Everything was a terrible mess. I wondered how we were going to avoid people’s learning about magic once they saw the wreckage—not to mention the giant’s body.

  The school wasn’t completely ruined, but I didn’t think we’d be having classes there anytime soon. There was going to be a lot of cleanup: the debris, the broken roof and mangled walls, the windows. I hoped the school had a budget for this.

  “Isolde!” cried Tristan. He ran to me, threw his arms around me, and hugged me so tightly I could hardly breathe.

  I squawked, and he put me down. “Forgive me. I did not mean to hurt you. Are you all right? How did you defeat the giant?”

  “I think I’ve figured out my magic,” I said. “Or part of it, at least.”

  “Oh?”

  I held out my hand and thought about Tristan. A fireball grew in my palm, and I kept it there, glowing red and yellow, while Tristan stared. “I can make these,” I said.

  “That is good news,” he said cautiously.

  “I shouldn’t have yelled at you yesterday,” I said. I had a lot to apologize for, and I knew it. Maybe now wasn’t the best time, with all the destruction around us, but I didn’t want to wait anymore.

  “I did not tell you the full truth,” Tristan admitted. “And it is true that I wanted you to come with me to fight Gurmun from the beginning.”

  And that was so selfish and deceitful of him? Ha!

  “You must think I am so shallow,” I said. “I don’t know why you even stayed here for me, but I am glad you did.” I put my hands to his face and felt his lips, his cheekbones, his eyebrows. Every part of him was delicious to touch.

  “I stayed because I could not leave,” he said. “I stayed because there was no place for me to go if you would not be mine. No house could be a home; no sunrise could be warm and light if you were gone from me. I need you. Without you, I do not think I could live.” It was pretty dramatic stuff, but the way Tristan said it, I believed him.

  “I feel the same way.” I pulled him closer. I knew that people were going to be coming soon, police and everyone else. But Tristan and I had this moment to ourselves.

  We kissed. It was a feeling I will never forget. His lips were soft, but he was cold. He had been outside in the elements for the past day and night. Feeling his arms wrap around me was like finding a coat that fit me perfectly, that had been made for me. He was the kind of guy I had never dared imagine could be mine. I didn’t know someone like that could exist in any world, let alone in the one I was in.

  I loved the way he tasted salty and sweet and sour all at once. Maybe the love philtre had pushed us together sooner, but I couldn’t believe that it wouldn’t have happened anyway. True love doesn’t let anything stand in its way. It really does conquer all.

  Suddenly, Tristan pulled away from me.

  “What?” I reached for him.

  “You killed her!” Mark shouted. “I left her with you. I trusted you. And you killed her. Branna and I hardly had a chance to know each other.”

  “Branna?” I said. I looked toward the north doors to the school, and I saw a heap of clothes I had thought was rubble. But how? The last time I had seen her, she had been standing up, hurt but alive.

  “Yes, Branna. Did you forget her already? What did you do to her? I thought you were going to protect her!” I had never seen Mark like this before, even when the basketball team had lost the state championships last year because Will had missed a foul shot at the last buzzer. Mark had punched a hole in the locker room wall that night and broken his hand in three places, but that was it. Now he was shaking his fist at me.

  “She—she wanted to help,” I said haltingly.

  Tristan quickly moved between us. “Leave Isolde be. She needs time to recover from the giant’s attack. She has other things she must do with her magic now that she has discovered its true nature.”

  Mark yanked on Tristan’s shoulder. “I don’t care an ounce about her magic and what she can do with it. Her magic is what got Branna killed.”

  Tristan’s mouth closed tightly, and I could see the line of his jaw grow taut.

  “Mark, don’t do this,” I said. “Let me see if Branna is—”

  Mark punched me in the face. Mark, the steadiest guy in the world. The guy who made me feel safe whenever I was with him. The guy I loved like a brother and a friend.

  I was so stunned that I just gaped at him. I didn’t even try to shield myself from a second blow.

  He swung at me and he would have hit me again, except that Tristan caught his hand. There was a sound like flesh hitting wood. And it wasn’t the wood that cracked.

  Mark made a low grunting sound. Then he turned to Tristan. “If you want a fight,” he said, “I’ll give you a fight. You think you can touch me? A runner from Parmenie? What are you going to do, make me chase you to death?”

  Mark was several inches taller than Tristan. And Mark, though he wasn’t a weight lifter or anything, had muscles. Tristan wasn’t without his own muscles, but they were more compact. It was like a semitrailer meeting a sports car: when they crash, everyone knows who is going to win.

  “Stop it, you two!” I shouted.

  They were circling each other, feeling out weaknesses.

  “Keep out of this, you witch!” said Mark.

  “Find yourself a safe place for a little while, until I am finished,” said Tristan.

  Like I was going to do that. I jumped up on Tristan’s back and pounded on him. “Don’t hurt Mark!” I said. Right then, Mark kicked Tristan in the stomach.

 
I slid off Tristan’s back and yanked on Mark’s arm. “If you really care about Branna, why are you doing this? You should be helping her.” It had only been a few minutes since I saw her go down, and I knew this was the last chance we were going to have before the police came in and decided to do things their way.

  “She’s dead,” said Mark.

  “There’s dead, and then there’s dead,” I said. Mom had taught me that was true even if you didn’t have magic. There was a certain length of time before the heart couldn’t be restarted. It depended on the temperature (colder was better), and also on how much exertion the person had been engaged in at the time of death (less was better). And also on magic. Mom had potions that could bring people back to life if they had died valiantly and were still supposed to be alive. She had explained it to me once, but I hadn’t listened very carefully.

  While I was distracting Mark, Tristan landed a fist in his face. Then he whirled around, caught Mark’s leg with his, and pulled him down.

  I fell down, too, right between the two of them. Now I was mad.

  “You are not helping me!” I shouted at Tristan. I needed him to calm Mark down, not make him more upset. They got up and started circling each other, grimacing. I pushed between them.

  But neither of them was listening to me. I was going to have to stop them—and fast. We couldn’t stand around fighting while Branna was lying there, dead or close to it, and the police were about to come storming in any minute and put us all in custody.

  I didn’t even have to think about the magic. It just happened automatically. I felt the heat inside me, anger and frustration and sadness and fear coming together and bursting out of me. I threw the first fireball at Mark, right into his mouth, which was wide open.

  He looked like he had swallowed something unintentionally and was about to throw it back up. Then he stepped back, arms wheeling, and let out a huge smoking belch. It hadn’t been a big fireball, but he clutched his stomach and went down.

  “Mark!” I shouted. I hadn’t meant to hurt him; I was just trying to get him to listen.

  Tristan ran toward Mark, and I thought he would kick Mark while he was down. So I threw a small fireball at Tristan, too, and it hit him in the back. I heard a sizzling sound, like when I had hit the giant with all those fireballs at once.

  “Tristan!” I shouted as he fell forward onto Mark.

  I rushed to him and rolled him off Mark. He smelled of smoke and magic. I kissed him on the lips and then on his eyes and his forehead and his cheeks and his chin. “Tristan, Tristan, Tristan.”

  Love makes you say stupid stuff, though I don’t think it technically lowers your chances of a scholarship.

  He breathed and folded his arms around me again.

  But I couldn’t waste another minute. I had to help Branna. Life and death before romance seemed like a good rule.

  I hurried over to Mark, who had somehow gotten up and was kneeling by Branna’s body.

  “Don’t touch her! You gave up the right to anything of hers!” Mark shouted at me.

  I ignored him and bent over Branna. I could see now that there was a piece of wood sticking out of her back. It must have gone straight through her when she fell. Seeing it made me cringe. There was blood soaking into her clothes and onto the ground around her.

  But blood pouring out meant she was still alive, didn’t it?

  I put my fingers to her throat to check for a pulse and couldn’t find one. Was I just too nervous?

  “Branna? Branna, talk to me.”

  Her mouth twitched.

  She wasn’t dead, then. But she would be soon unless I could figure out how to get her to Mom. I couldn’t move her, because the wood was stuck in her, and I couldn’t get the wood out, because that would just make her bleed faster.

  “Mark!” I said. “Talk to Branna. She’s alive. See if you can get her to respond to you.” If she was fighting, that was half the battle. Mom had told me lots of stories of people who had come out of things that no one expected them to, mostly because they had people talking to them, reminding them of what they had to fight for, why they should live even if it hurt.

  “We never had a chance,” said Mark. “I had just found her, and now she’s—”

  “Quit it,” I said sharply. “You’re going to have all the time you need with her. Tell her all the things you’re going to do when she’s well again. Dances you’re going to take her to. Cool places you’ll go. Movies you’ll see together.” All the things I used to do with Mark. But I wasn’t jealous at all. I had Tristan, and I really wanted Branna to be happy. And alive.

  Minus the piece of wood in her chest.

  Tristan sat down next to me. “What can I do?” he asked. “I have my sword, but it seems of little use now.”

  “Do you have any healing magic?” I asked. “Maybe a potion or something?”

  Tristan shook his head. “My magic is of metals. That is why I have always used it through the sword.”

  “Metals.” I’d never heard Mom talk about that.

  Tristan shook his head. “It is called alchemy in some parts of the world.”

  He was an alchemist, my mother was a witch, and I was a sorceress. This was all too confusing. “Give me some space to think. I need to gather myself and my magic.”

  My power to cauterize had worked on the cuts on Branna’s head. I couldn’t do it before I took the piece of wood out of her, though. I had to take out the wood and then cauterize her wound immediately, to make sure she didn’t bleed to death. I couldn’t do that alone.

  And it wouldn’t fix everything. Some internal organs probably had been injured. I didn’t dare to try to use my power on them. I wished I had already taken human anatomy, like Mom had told me I should, my sophomore year.

  “Mark, do you have your cell phone?”

  He looked up at me, startled. “What?”

  “Your cell phone. Get it out. Call my mom. She’ll tell me what to do.” Maybe she was already here at the school with her ambulance.

  Mark’s fingers were shaking. He dialed wrong twice.

  “Give it to Tristan,” I said.

  So Tristan took the phone, and he pressed each number deliberately, to make sure it went through. Then he handed the phone to me.

  “Izzie? Is that you? Thank goodness!” said Mom.

  I was so relieved to hear her I could feel tears pricking at my eyelids. “Where are you, Mom?” I asked her.

  “I’m a block away from the school, in an ambulance. Where are you? You weren’t with any of the kids who escaped the earthquake.”

  “Mom, it wasn’t an earthquake,” I said.

  There was a pause. Mom said quietly, “I know that, Izzie.”

  “It was a giant.”

  “I know,” she said again.

  “It’s dead now, but Branna is badly hurt. She’s barely alive.”

  “Okay, listen, Izzie. Is there anything the police will see if they come in now?” she asked.

  I glanced around, realizing what she meant. “The giant’s body,” I said.

  “Is there any way to prevent that?”

  From the way she was talking, I could tell that she was with someone else. She hadn’t said a word about magic.

  “I could burn it,” I said. “With fireballs.”

  “You need to do that,” said Mom.

  “But Branna—” I argued.

  “Do it,” said Mom. “Now.”

  She had told me before how important it was that I didn’t tell people about magic. She’d described the havoc it would cause if people everywhere started to search for it and use it without understanding. Or if they tried to call magical creatures, like this giant, thinking they could control them.

  I had to trust my mom.

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” I said. I started a fireball in my hand.

  Mark’s eyes went big, but he didn’t say a word.

  I threw fireballs at the giant’s body again and again, until it was a smoldering mess that could have been an
ything.

  “Done?” asked Mom. I had forgotten she was still on the line.

  I was breathing heavily.

  “Done,” I said.

  “Okay, now I can come in and help you. All right?”

  “Please,” I said, and as soon as I said the word, there was a rush of movement toward the school. I saw police with guns raised, though the giant was no threat now. Behind them were the rescue workers, and with them, Mom.

  Chapter 22

  Mom ran toward me, her emergency kit bouncing on her hip.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. She pointed to my shoulder and arm. Looking down, I remembered I had cut myself on the broken window. I hadn’t noticed any pain until now, but my wounds suddenly started to throb. Branna was the one who needed emergency help, though. I could wait.

  “Branna!” I said urgently, and pulled Mom toward my best friend.

  Mom knelt down by her still form. She lifted her head and felt for a pulse, then sighed.

  “Do you have a potion for her?” I asked.

  “A potion will have to come later,” said Mom.

  “She’s going to wake up, right?” said Mark.

  Mom didn’t say anything about Mark’s rather obvious change of allegiance. “I’ll do everything I can, but I need your help.” The other rescue workers were spreading out, checking through rubble and entering the school building. I didn’t know how many people—if any—were left inside. I hoped that no one was seriously hurt—and that nobody had seen the giant close enough to realize it had to be magical.

  “I need you to lift her up,” Mom said to Mark. “Then you, Tristan, pull out the wood.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Mark. His lips were cracked and bleeding, and his whole face was pale. I wondered what kind of internal injuries he had from the fireball and everything else. But he was still standing and Branna wasn’t, so it was Branna we focused on.

  “Izzie, you need to use your magic to seal her organs. Once the wood is out, I will guide you through them one by one.”

  I took a deep breath. “Okay,” I said, glad she was here to help.

  “Ready?” asked Mom.