Give the Dark My Love

by Beth Revis

  “She’s really nice,” I said. “She came to the hospital to visit the sick.”

  “She’s not bothered coming north,” Papa muttered.

  In the flurry of catching up and eating breakfast, we’d not noticed how little Papa had spoken.

  “Papa?” Ernesta asked.

  He held his head up with one hand, and he tilted his face toward her without really looking up. “Sorry, little flower,” he said. “I’m just tired. Long day on the road to get here by morning.” He leaned back in his chair. “And it was worth it for the surprise when I got home,” he said, beaming at me.

  I grinned at Papa. His eyes were red-rimmed, and the alchemist in me started analyzing him. Sallow skin, hunched shoulders, slightly glazed eyes.

  “Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

  “I pushed Jojo too hard,” Papa said. “Two more villages were closed,” he added, looking up at Mama.

  Ernesta and I exchanged a worried look.

  Papa pushed his chair from the table. “Sorry, loves,” he said. “I think I need to take a nap.”

  He leaned down to hug me in my chair, but all I could think about was how hot his skin was against mine.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Nedra

  “You’re being paranoid,” Ernesta said as we walked into town together.

  “He took a nap,” I pointed out. “Papa never naps.”

  Ernesta paused to peer into the window of the general store. “He was tired. He’d just come back from a long trip.” She turned to me. “He’s doing that more. Going farther and farther out to sell books. Past Hart, even.”

  “It’s not just books, is it?” I asked.

  Nessie shook her head. “Potions, too. Messages between healers. He helps keep a ledger, recording who lived and what treatments were given to them.” She caught my look and added, “Nothing seems to work.”

  “That just worries me more,” I said. “So many villages are closed because of the plague, and Papa is exposing himself with these travels.”

  Ernesta held the door open for me. “Who’s going to stop him? You?”

  I sighed as I followed her into the butcher’s shop. Papa was stubborn.

  “Ah!” Lorrina, the butcher, said, grinning at us. “My two favorite girls. Nedra’s back again! For good?” Her eyes darted from my sister to me and back again; she wasn’t sure which of us was which.

  “For a bit,” I said.

  Lorrina harrumphed, and I ducked my head down, pretending to look at a beef brisket as Ernesta ordered lamb for Mama’s stew. My parents and sister were proud of me for finally getting into Yūgen, but many in the village weren’t as happy. Lorrina was on the Elder council; I knew there was gossip that I would leave and never come back home, ignoring the people I’d vowed to help with alchemy.

  Lorrina slapped the wrapped lamb on her counter, but before Ernesta could pay, I slipped a silver coin from my purse.

  “Ned!” Ernesta said, but both Lorrina and I ignored her.

  “We’ve been praying,” Lorrina said in her deep voice, “everyone on the council. I don’t care if the cure for the plague comes from the city or from the healers here; I just want a cure.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  “We’re proud of you, Nedra,” Lorrina said. “We all are.”

  Ernesta and I left the shop, the little bell clanking against the door as we stepped out onto the sidewalk. “Look at you,” Ernesta said, bumping into my shoulder and grinning at me with pride.

  My cheeks warmed, and I looked away.

  Ernesta stopped to stare at the big cake on display in the baker’s window, then turned to me with excited eyes. “So, tell me more about this boy,” she said. “The fancy one.”

  “Grey’s nice.”

  “‘Nice,’” Ernesta mocked me. “Handsome?”

  I shrugged dismissively. “I don’t want to stab my eyes out when I look at him.”

  “Oh, be still my heart!” Ernesta shoved against my shoulder. “So you really like him?”

  I smiled. “I really do.”

  But my sister caught the hesitation in my voice. “You really like him, but . . . ?”

  “But I should be working on a cure for the plague. He’s a distraction.”

  Ernesta stopped in her tracks and turned around to face me. “Nedra Brysstain, I know you. And you always default to guilt. This plague does not rest on your shoulders alone. Your life is for living.”

  “You didn’t see it,” I said. “The pain, the suffering—the families torn apart. It’s awful, Nessie, and no one is paying attention. The poor are just . . . forgotten. The wealthy don’t care.”

  “They can stay locked up in their houses until the threat is gone, just like that useless Emperor.” Ernesta rolled her eyes. “But you’re just one person. It’s not your job to save everyone. Besides, didn’t you say that the governor was helping out? And that there were others from Yūgen working at the hospitals?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “So take a break. Just for a little while, give yourself some time to breathe. And if you’re not going to tell me more about Grey, then I’m going to tell you about Kyln.” Ernesta strode down the street, not looking back to see if I was following.

  “Kyln?” I asked. “The fisherman’s boy?”

  A group of children raced past us, shouting to each other.

  “The fisherman’s man,” Ernesta said. “Pulling up nets all day does wonderful things to biceps.”

  I laughed at her enthusiasm. Kyln was only the flavor of the month; Ernesta was as easily distracted by beautiful men and women alike. But I was glad to see she was over Kava, the shoemaker’s apprentice who’d died of the plague soon after I left for Yūgen.

  I wondered what Nessie would do if she ever met Grey, with his narrow chin and broad chest and that perfect spot on his shoulder that seemed as if it were made for me to place my head. And his eyes, brown with gold flecks. Whenever he looked at me, it felt as if I were the center of the universe.

  I didn’t notice that Ernesta had stopped until I almost bumped into her. Her eyes were wide, staring at the heavy black curtains being strung up over the windows of the house four doors away from our own.

  “The Longshires,” I said, thinking of the family who lived inside. When I left for Yūgen, Sarai Longshire was pregnant with her first child, and Benn Longshire was ecstatically telling everyone he knew.

  The group of children who’d rushed past us threw rocks at the little house.

  “Have some respect!” Ernesta said, rushing forward and snatching a stone from the closest boy’s hand.

  “Elder Gryff said we could,” the boy said in a snotty voice.

  “You’re Levin, aren’t you?” I asked.

  He glared up at me. “You’re the girl who went to live down south.” He picked up another stone and threw it at the window. It plinked on the glass.

  “Let them throw rocks,” I told Ernesta as I pretended to walk away. “When they break a window, they’ll be the first to be infected by the plague.”

  I smiled as a half dozen stones clattered to the ground. “Really?” Levin asked.

  “What’s the point of sealing someone who’s sick in their house if you break a window and let the sickness escape?” I said.

  Levin considered me for a moment, then turned to the other children. “Come on,” he said, and they ran off.

  Ernesta bowed her head and turned toward home. I grabbed her arm, stopping her. “Is a healer coming?” I asked. “For the Longshires?”

  “I don’t know,” Ernesta said. “None came last time.”

  My stomach twisted. “Last time?” I gasped.

  “Mama didn’t want me to tell you,” she said, looking away. “But there’ve been two other families infected this month. The Xandies and the Redavs.”

  “The
Redavs?”

  “They all . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. There were seventeen members of the Redav family, all living in the big farmhouse half a mile outside of the main village. All of them . . . gone.

  “I didn’t know,” I said. “There’s no black bunting on our gates.”

  Ernesta laughed, but the sound wasn’t joyous. “They don’t do that when there are only a few cases,” she said. “Kava was one of the first.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly.

  “But she lived farther out. Not really in town, you know.” Ernesta kept talking as if I’d not spoken. “And just two—three families in town. It’s not so bad.” She saw my face. “It’s not,” she insisted.

  She started back toward the road home, but I didn’t. I stared at the Longshires’ door for several more moments, and then I turned on my heel, racing down the hill toward my house, rushing past Ernesta, still carrying the meat for dinner. I burst through the front door, bounded down the hall to the room I shared with my twin, and rooted around in my bag until I had my golden crucible in my hand. Then I dashed back out the house and toward the Longshires’. Ernesta called something to me as I raced past her, but I didn’t catch it.

  I couldn’t cure them. I knew that. But I could help ease their pain. I had to do something.

  I pushed open the Longshires’ yard gate and marched toward the front door.

  “Nedra Brysstain!” a voice bellowed so loudly that I jumped in surprise.

  Elder Gryff strode toward me, his old face turned down in a deep frown. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

  “I’m going to help,” I said. “I’ve been working at the hospital in Northface Harbor; I’ve treated dozens—hundreds of plague patients. I can help.”

  “There is no cure.”

  “No,” I confessed, “but I could alleviate their pain until a surgeon arrives.” I turned back to the door, but Elder Gryff grabbed my wrist and dragged me forcefully back through the yard gate and onto the street.

  “Let me go!” I shouted, trying to pull away.

  “I’ve heard what you do in the hospitals, Nedra,” Elder Gryff said, and there was some emotion in his voice . . . was it sympathy? “But we cannot allow that here. When someone falls sick, their home is closed. That’s the way.”

  If this was a normal illness, quarantine would be effective. But it hadn’t helped anyone at the hospital.

  “I can help,” I said again, brandishing the golden crucible in front of him.

  “No,” he said, pushing me toward my own home. “No, you can’t. Go home. We know how to deal with this.”

  * * *

  • • •

  I tried twice more to go to the Longshires’ house, but Elder Gryff had set a watch. Friends, neighbors—they patrolled the house, ensuring that no one went in and no one left. I could see the fear on their faces, the most powerful motivator to drive them into action.

  That night, I snuck out. The guard was sleeping; it was easy to slip by him and creep to the front door, my golden crucible in hand.

  But when I knocked, no one answered. And I knew.

  I was already too late.

  FORTY

  Nedra

  When i awoke the next morning, Ernesta’s eyes were already open and staring at me. She knew I’d snuck out last night.

  “I had to try,” I said.

  “You always do.”

  It was strange, how easily I fell back into the old familiar habits of home. I’d been away for months, becoming someone new. A girl who defied traditions and attended a school that didn’t want her. A girl who worked tirelessly to make a difference in a world wracked with plague.

  A girl who knew what to do with love.

  But now, being home, lying in bed across from my twin, it felt like the mask I wore at Yūgen had cracked away.

  “I’ve missed you,” I told Ernesta.

  She grinned. If we were solemn, we were identical, but it was our smiles that always gave us away. Mine was never quite as bright as hers.

  “You have Grey now,” she said, rolling onto her back and saying his name in a singsong voice.

  I threw my pillow at her, then snatched it back so I could rest my head on it.

  “Things have to change, though, don’t they?” Ernesta said, her tone more serious as she continued to stare at the ceiling. “We have to figure out what we want to do with ourselves. We can’t stay here forever.”

  “Growing up is overrated,” I said, waiting for her to turn to me so we could share a smile. “Let’s just stay here forever.”

  “Says the girl who’s leaving as soon as that school opens again.”

  “If it opens again.”

  Nessie groaned. “Quit being so pessimistic. There will be a cure. The plague will pass. And you’ll be gone again.”

  “But not forever.”

  “You know,” Ernesta said, “if we stay here forever, we won’t get any bacon.”

  Once she said it, I smelled the bacon Mama was frying in the kitchen. Before Nessie could protest, I threw my quilt on her and dashed out of our room. She shouted in frustration as she got tangled up in the heavy cloth but soon chased after me.

  “Shh,” Mama said as we sat down at the table. “Your father’s still sleeping.”

  Ernesta and I exchanged a dark look. Papa had gone to bed early last night after barely eating any of Mama’s stew. He must have slept ten hours, and he still wasn’t up?

  “I’m going to check on him,” I said, pushing back my chair.

  “Eat breakfast first,” Mama said. “Let him sleep.”

  I shook my head, already heading back down the hall. Dread rose in my throat.

  You’re being paranoid, I told myself. You’ve been around the plague too much, and now you’re seeing it everywhere.

  “Papa?” I said softly, pushing open the door to my parents’ bedroom.

  He didn’t stir. He lay flat on his back, his eyes shut, and for one horrible, horrible moment, I thought it was already too late.

  I rushed to his bed, picking up his left hand and feeling for a pulse. There. Relief flooded through me as I felt his heartbeat thudding through his veins.

  “Papa?” I asked gently. Behind us, Ernesta and Mama crowded into the doorway, blocking some of the light.

  “Nedra.” Papa’s voice was weak, dry.

  “I’ll get him some water,” Mama said, darting back down the hall.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Where does it hurt?”

  Ernesta moved forward, reaching for Papa’s other hand. And in the light from the hallway, I saw the thing I dreaded most in the world.

  The tips of Papa’s fingers were black.

  Cold terror washed through my blood.

  “What do we do?” Ernesta asked in a whisper.

  Mama came back with a glass of water. She saw the way I held Papa’s hand, the light illuminating the blackness in his fingers. The cup slipped from her grasp, crashing to the floor. The glass shattered, and water spilled everywhere.

  I stood up.

  “Clean that,” I said, pointing to Mama. “Get my bag, the new one I brought from school,” I told Ernesta.

  My words spurred a flurry of motion as Ernesta leapt over the mess, and Mama went to fetch a towel. I ripped Papa’s blankets away, pulling up the legs of his trousers. There was blackness on both of his feet, creeping up from beneath his toenails, over the tops of his feet, swirling into his calves.

  I covered him with the blanket again.

  Mama didn’t look at Papa as she knelt in the doorway, clearing away the glass and water. Ernesta called my name and handed me my bag, leaning over Mama.

  “We need rats. Or some other small animal that will fit in here,” I said, lifting out my golden crucible.

  My mother gasped. S
he had never seen that much gold before.

  “We don’t have any traps,” Ernesta said. “The Sens had a litter of kittens, and they’ve been in our stable . . .”

  “A kitten then,” I said, not thinking about how horrible it would be. “Go. Now.”

  Ernesta turned on her heel and ran outside.

  “What can I do?” Mama asked, her voice empty, small, tired. Weak. She stood up, the broken glass wrapped in the wet dish towel.

  I crossed the room and wrapped her in a hug.

  “It’s too late, isn’t it?” she whispered into my hair.

  I held her tighter.

  * * *

  • • •

  Ernesta was gone for so long that I had time to set up the crucible, mix a tonic, and feed it to Papa before she returned. I could hear her and Mama whispering outside Papa’s room, but I couldn’t make out their words.

  “Finally,” I said.

  “I couldn’t find any.”

  I looked up at my sister. “I even went into town. No rats. No kittens. I couldn’t find anything.”

  I growled in frustration. Papa hadn’t slipped into the coma-like sleep of a late-stage victim. He didn’t moan, but I could tell he was in pain.

  “Fine,” I said, nodding my head, my decision made. I held Papa’s hand in one of mine and gripped the edge of the empty crucible. I muttered the runes, and they glowed dimly in the dark room.

  Ernesta watched in silence. She didn’t know how alchemy worked; she was never interested in the old textbooks I’d get from Papa’s stacks of books. She didn’t know what I was about to do.

  Pain flowed from my father’s body, through me, and swirled into the base of the crucible. I frowned, concentrating. With no vessel to take the pain, there was only one other place for it to go.

  Into me.

  I gritted my teeth, tugging at the pain. Its presence in the crucible felt like rain falling gently, but when I directed it back into myself, it burned like acid, white-hot heat spreading through my veins, seeping into my bones. Agony soaked into me, lingering on my skin, tearing through my joints.

  I gagged, choking for air, and Ernesta made a move toward me, but I shook my head. I couldn’t let her touch me; I couldn’t risk breaking contact. I had to take all the pain, and I had to do it now before I lost my nerve.