I walk past some tourists pointing at the Washington Monument. I can’t find Pen. She’d never be here, but she’s not anywhere else, either. Not at St. Elmo’s. Or home. Her car isn’t parked at any of the trails, so she’s not on a run. She’s not at the mall. She’s not getting ice cream or pizza, and she’s not on the hill. She wouldn’t be here, either, but demons are sometimes. If she’s not answering any of my calls then my only hope is to find the mauve demon.
The light on my demon tracker blinks a steady blue pulse. Vassago is nearby. He’s not the one I thought I’d find, but maybe that’s better.
There are people everywhere. Tourists and locals who came to spend the summer in the city. A mist of rain starts to fall, but no one seems deterred by it. The weather has been unpredictable all month. I weave through the crowds at the Washington Monument toward the Smithsonian, but the blinking stops. Wrong way.
I follow the tracker in the other direction, past the monuments, until I’m standing near a perfect rectangle of water. The Reflecting Pool. At one end is the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial is at the other end. I stuff the tracker in my pocket and walk toward the steps of the Memorial.
Why is Vassago hanging out here?
The steps of the Memorial are full of people taking pictures. It’s always busy over here, everyone wanting to see this place. I came here a lot as a kid with my dad. It was before I knew I was supposed to hate him, before he took me sailing when I was ten and told me I was a halfling, and that it was a secret I had to protect for always.
I push past the people and in toward the statue of Lincoln. The room is always quieter than I imagine it will be, everyone taking in what this spot represents. I glance around them all and seek out Vassago. I don’t see him, so like everyone else, I read the words carved into the wall of the Gettysburg Address.
There’s a shuffle behind me and I look over my shoulder. I recognize his long, dirty beard first, and then he nods toward the exit. I follow him out and around the side of the Memorial to see a large plaid blanket and a Scrabble.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter. I’m sick of this. For weeks it feels like everything in my life is a puzzle.
Vassago points to the blanket and then sits down on one side. “I thought it would keep us warmer,” he says, patting the blanket.
“You said a storm was coming,” I say. “What’s going on?”
He looks pointedly at me. “Sit.”
I’m obviously not getting answers any other way, so I take a seat on the blanket. Vassago starts unpacking the board and grabs the little bag of letters.
“You knew Penelope would be involved in whatever is happening, didn’t you?”
He shakes his head. “I did.”
I blink. He really answered my question. “You answered. You never do that directly.”
“You never ask questions I can answer properly.”
“I ask you questions all the time.”
Vassago smirks. “I am only to give guidance when the proper questions are asked. To get the answer, you must ask the right questions.”
“Why? What makes that the rule?”
“It is what I am. A servant of all, an unbiased party who knows what others do not until they seek the answer.”
“You’re a sage.”
Sages were popular centuries ago. Witches often sought them out to find direction for the future or get information. Even in history, they could only answer directly if the right question was asked. They aren’t allowed to freely share knowledge. The sphinx was their creation, the riddler of Greek mythology. Now it all makes sense. I clear my throat. “The mauve demon is involved with her,” I frown, poking at the memory. “She’s changing. Angrier, distrusting, desperate, and it’s not because she was marked, but because of the void.”
Vassago simply looks at me. “You go first,” he says, passing the bag of letters.
I shake my head. “You this time.”
With a nod, Vassago draws some of the letters. He stares at the board for a moment and then places the words down. INDEED.
I stare at the word. That was convenient.
“One hundred and four points,” Vassago says.
The void is changing Penelope. The magic is making her someone so unlike herself. Why? And even more importantly, how do I stop it? I look at my letters and play VOID off his D. “How do I stop this?”
Vassago pulls some new letters out of the bag. I don’t take my eyes off him. “I’ve always enjoyed the Observance. It’s an important time for witches and demons and Nons.”
UNABLE, he plays off the E in his first word.
“I can’t stop it,” I say. I thought I’d at least get a clue about how to prevent all of this. “The demons want Pen to destroy witches. And I could somehow convince her to destroy the void, then demons die, but witches can’t exist without demons. Magic is a balance. What do I do?”
“The answer is already one you have been given.”
I close my eyes and exhale. I can’t do this. I can’t sit here and try to figure out his answers to riddles to solve a puzzle. I thought I liked puzzles, but I don’t.
“Your turn, Mr. Prescott.” I open my eyes and stare at him. That voice was Poncho’s, not Vassago’s. I shake my head. There’s no way that’s possible. My mind is playing tricks on me.
“Poncho?” I whisper, even though this is crazy.
“Vassago at the moment,” he says.
What the hell? “You’re both people?” Whoever-this-is gives me a quick nod. I tighten one of my hands into a fist. “How?”
“Your turn.”
“You have to tell me something.”
But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t blink. I’m supposed to accept that Poncho and Vassago are the same person?
“There is not an explanation for every mystery in the universe. Sometimes there is, but having it will prevent you from believing on your own.”
“That’s all you’re going to say?” Again, nothing. It’s like staring at a wall. This is frustrating. I throw the word DEMON on the board off the N.
“When she does the Restitution, what will happen to her?”
Vassago puts the word BALANCE on the board. “A balance of magic. Magic is a scale. If she is going to harness the void, then she must give up good. To give is to take, and to take is to give. A life for a life, or a magic for a magic.”
“The mauve demon is involved,” I say. I put DEAL on the board. Poncho nods. Penelope made a deal. She made a deal with a demon. “If I can’t stop it, then how do I save Penelope?”
Vassago considers this for a moment. “I told you that answer last time.”
Balloon
The story from my childhood. Red balloon, blue balloon. I changed the color, but he said I couldn’t change this, couldn’t stop it. That doesn’t make sense. I put FATE on the board.
“Why is this happening to Penelope? Of all the halflings in the world, why her?”
Mark
“Because she’s marked?”
“There is more than one way to have a mark. Some are literal, some visual, while others exist internally. Others are fated.”
I play YAMS because I have nothing else. Only his words matter anyway.
“What marked her? What made them want her?”
Vassago cracks his neck. “There are forces at play that are larger than you and Miss Grey. It all goes back to the beginning, to Taliel and Lucifer’s desire to have more.”
Prophecy
I play TURN. But I let his words sink in. The desire for more. The gift and the sole witch. “She’s only doing to this for her sister and the Statics. Is there another way to save them?”
RESET
I can reset it. “What do I need to do it?”
“Only two more days until the Observance. What is your favorite part? I enjoy the feast and the festival of lights.”
I play THREE.
“What do I need to reset everything?”
“It’s a m
omentous day for witches and demons.”
He plays DAGGER. Again. His words matter, and this one has been used in both of our games. The dagger is the ultimate weapon against both sides. I need to get it.
“Where is Penelope right now?” I ask.
Vassago is staring again, unable or unwilling to answer. “For the win,” he says.
I draw out the remaining letters and lay out THANKS on the board, then stand to leave as Vassago gives me a nod. I have to find Pen and get the dagger if I have any chance of saving her from all of this.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Penelope
It’s right after sunrise when the relay disk buzzes again. My heart leaps because this means that Poncho got the herb, in time, too, since the Observance is tomorrow. I push the button and land on solid ground in the library, Poncho is only a few feet away from me, but it feels less like home than it used to.
“Miss Grey, you made it,” he says.
I nod. I don’t have time or energy for pleasantries. “Did you get the Dragooni?”
Poncho bows his head and holds out the plant to me. It’s long and flowing, like a willow branch, but covered in bright tangerine flowers. As I take it from his hand, he pauses. “Are you certain this is your path?”
“My sister is dying. Statics are dying.”
“Answer one thing, Miss Grey. Is this really for them, or is it for yourself? The void is not your magic. It is not what you have been told. Once you do this, there is no going back.”
Part of me thinks he’s right. The other part, the part with a sister on the line and the void magic that’s already flowing through me, that part hates him. “There’s already no going back.”
He shakes his head. “It is only too late to turn around if you are lost.”
“I’m sure,” I say. Sage or not, that doesn’t mean anything to me. Seak, the cat who never liked me, rubs against my leg. Finally, some attention.
“I see,” he says, staring at the cat. Then Poncho turns around and leaves me.
…
When I connect with the void this time, it feels like my skin, bones, and muscle all separate from one another. It’s becoming so easy to let go, to not feel anything except the magic. There’s nothing to tie me together or hold me down and I’m weightless. But I’m whole. Like that part of me that I’ve been missing has finally appeared and woven the pieces of myself. I’m empty and I’m completely full.
“Great job, Penelope,” Lia says as the void fades away from me, leaving me feeling normal again. She moves toward me across the open space of the woods, her eyes wide.
Letting go of the void is a painful withdrawal. Or what withdrawal seems like it could be. My skin crawls, burns and longs for more of it. There’s this loss that’s immediate when I’m done using it, and the more I’m able to connect with it the more intense it gets. My whole body burns with the power, especially along my veins where the blackness flows. It’s nearly spread to all of me now—almost there.
A source with this much power will definitely save my sister. This is right, even though others will think it’s wrong.
“When I first heard the rumors about you being able to directly access the source, I didn’t think it was true. No demon has been able to do that,” Lia says. Her eyes pierce into mine for a moment.
“So you’ve said before,” I say.
“You really are remarkable.”
“I hear that a lot,” I say. She shakes her head, but she had to have thought it was a little funny. Carter would’ve thought it was funny.
“If only you could block out everything else, you’d be unstoppable.”
I don’t remark on that because my thoughts haven’t changed. One more day. One more.
“That’s enough Dragooni, right?” I ask, pointing to the little stack of yellow flowers.
She nods. “It’s perfect. I knew you could do it.”
“Glad I didn’t disappoint,” I say, chugging some water. The void may be amazing, but it’s also exhausting. “I’ll work some more tonight. I’ll be ready by tomorrow,” I say. Only my face is unmarked, but as soon as I master the void it will all clear up. When that happens, I’ll be ready, and it has to happen tomorrow.
“Before you go to the Observance, come find me. I have a present for you.”
“I love presents. What is it?”
“A surprise.”
I frown. “Surprises aren’t so much my thing.”
“This one will be worth it,” Lia says. “See you tomorrow.”
…
My nerves are shot already. I was so excited earlier. This is what I’ve been waiting for. This is what I’ve known was the best way to accomplish it. Maybe it was seeing Poncho, or my fight with Ric. I can’t pinpoint it, but now I feel sick. Not magic sick. Like I’m making a bad decision sick. I’m voluntarily becoming a demon, and no sane person would do that. What am I thinking? What Poncho said about turning around, I can still stop this.
But if I stop this then my sister dies.
That’s not an option.
I order a double scoop of coconut chocolate chip and scan the small ice cream parlor while I wait to pay. I freeze when I see some other Enforcers from my testing period in the far corner. I recognize James McEllory immediately with his bright red hair, and his partner, Jenna Lakes. Annah Jelowski whispers to the table, and then Jordan Stark waves at me, and points to an empty chair near them. I can’t sit there. I have to get out of here.
Annah rushes over to me as I pay. “Penelope. Long time no see. How’s your sister?”
I gulp back my fear. No emotions. “She’s hanging in there.”
She touches my arm softly, and then leads me toward her table. So much for not coming over. “We miss you and Carter at meetings. When the council told us what happened, we were all pretty shocked. It was nice of them to let you take some time off. After everything,” Anna says. Nice, sure. That’s how they’re spinning it.
“Very nice,” I spit. I hope they feel the venom of it.
“Ready for the Observance tomorrow?” Jordan asks.
“I have the best dress,” Jenna adds.
I judge her with my eyes. I hope she feels the judgment. A dress is the one thing that doesn’t matter right now. “Oh yeah. I enjoy celebrating while everyone around me dies.”
They all look at me like I’m insane for saying the unspeakable—that people are dying. It’s not like it’s a lie. Then all of their phones go off. They all look at once so I know it’s the WNN. I debate pulling out my phone and playing along, but there’s no point. They know I’m away, so maybe that’s a good enough reason not to look.
But then Jenna’s face goes white, and James looks up at me in his usual accusatory way. Anna whispers, “no way” under her breath—but not well if I can hear her. It’s Jordan Stark’s expression that gets me, though. The complete and utter disgust. I’ve seen that look before.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I ignore it, even though there’s a chill through my body that they know. They know. Then Jenna asks, “Is this true?”
“What is it?” I ask. My heart is racing, but I try to push down the anxiety. I can’t feel it. I don’t want to feel it. My phone vibrates again so I pull it out of my pocket, all of their eyes on me. I can’t see the WNN, obviously, but I have a text from Pop and from Ric saying the same thing. But it’s the third one, the one that comes in from Carter while I’m holding my phone that resonates the most.
Someone told the WNN you’re a halfling.
I look up from my phone toward the four people sitting across from me. Jordan’s face is mimicked on everyone’s. The revulsion.
“I have to go,” I say.
I drop my ice cream on the table before I run, and I don’t look back.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Carter
Pen texts me back a few minutes later, asking me to meet her in our spot. I leave the library without even saying good-bye to Poncho. He’ll understand. The elevator takes forever, so I
push the button again and again to make sure it’s on the way.
How did this happen?
That update is burnt into my eyes.
Penelope Grey Is A Halfling.
Who would tell the WNN? And why?
This stupid elevator is taking forever.
She can’t handle this right now. Whatever’s going on with her, this is going to make it worse.
I stare at the numbers. Three more floors. It jerks to a stop, and starts going back up. Wait, what? I push the buttons, but they don’t change. I need to get out of here.
The doors ding open and my father is standing on the other side. Shit.
“My office. Now.”
His lips are in a tight line, and his shoulders back. He means business right now, and I’m positive it has to do with Penelope.
Dad slams the office door behind him, and before I even sit down he’s already talking. “Who submitted that information to the WNN?”
I cross my arms. “You?”
My dad shakes his head. “I wouldn’t do that.”
I scoff. “I didn’t do it.”
“And Miss Grey?”
Is he really asking me this? “Did she out herself? No. She’s not stupid, Dad.” Why am I even still here? I need to go to her, so I move toward the door.
“Someone sent that. A day before the Observance and now this mess to clean up.”
I turn around to him. He always makes it about him. “Undo the rumor. Send out a retraction to fix this.” He has the power, so he might as well use it for good.
Dad’s eyes narrow in on me. “You aren’t to see her anymore.”
“What? No way.”
Dad shakes his head, stepping toward me in the small space of his office. “You have to end it with that girl. It’s the only way to keep your secret.”
“No,” I say. Not even an option.
“You are my priority.”
That’s always his excuse. This isn’t about him or me. Penelope needs me. Now more than ever. I’m the only one who knows what’s really going on with the demons. He can’t keep her from me when I can help her out of this mess.
Storm: a Salt novel (Entangled Teen) Page 20
