Children of the Bloodlands

by S. M. Beiko

  Phae’s mouth twitched. “Geez, you must have it bad if you can’t say his name.”

  “Oh knock it off, will you? Eli and I don’t have . . . a thing. Anything! I don’t hear from him and I don’t want to.” Roan had told Phae about how he’d shown up at the airport. She’d thought the gesture was sweet and didn’t mind letting Roan know every chance she got.

  “Maybe if you did talk to him, at least he knows what you’re going through.” But Phae didn’t know if he’d be back anytime soon to chat. “He’s gone off to Korea, I think. To face the consequences of . . . what’s been happening with his own stone.”

  “It’s not his fault, though.” For someone she didn’t seem to care about, Roan was quick to defend Eli. Phae didn’t point it out. “The stone changes you. It’s, like, got a mind of its own. Several minds. And they’re all fighting for control. It’s like the stone knows what’s best. It has its own plan.” She looked away, biting the inside of her cheek. “Anyway. Don’t worry about me. You’ve all got your own lives to worry about. Like if you’re gonna do university or not.”

  “If only I could take Supernatural Anxiety as a major . . .” Phae muttered. “At least it would be something to get my father off my back.”

  “Hey,” Roan said, “it’s your life. Not theirs. You take as much time as you need, okay? I know you. You won’t be down and out long. Purpose is your middle name.”

  Phae stuck out her tongue. “You know it’s Lakshmi.”

  Roan’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Phae. It’s my fault. I dragged you into all this . . . stuff.”

  Stuff, like weird, didn’t exactly cover it, but Phae had just shrugged, remembering that field in the snow what seemed like years ago, when she’d made a choice to save a stranger, who had become an ally, who had become a boyfriend, and now was something she couldn’t qualify. It was the same field she sat at the edge of now, as the deer she’d been photographing scattered back into the brush with the tangle of her thoughts.

  “It was still my choice,” Phae said to no one.

  “What was?”

  Phae startled to her feet — luckily her camera strap had been around her neck, otherwise she’d have destroyed what she’d traded a whole year’s tuition for.

  “Sorry.” Barton held his hands up. “I’ll be less stealthy next time. And by stealthy I mean I’ll trip over more logs and get stuck in more bog puddles, since my actual approach only scared every deer in the forest . . . except you.” He lifted one of his running blades to show her the mud and debris he’d tracked with him.

  “You didn’t have to come all the way in here!” Phae admonished as she led them back out to the main path through drier ground. “I thought you were supposed to be taking better care of your equipment.” She took his arm, even though he hadn’t asked, and steadied him.

  “Ah well, if I’d broken anything, it’s not like I don’t have a world-class demon-slaying healer for a girlfriend.” He leaned down to kiss her, but at the last second she turned her head, and it landed perfunctorily on her jaw.

  Barton pulled away, still holding her by the arm. “You okay?” he asked. He’d been asking that a lot. Phae forced a smile up at him — she was still getting used to how tall he was, since he used his wheelchair less and less.

  “Fine. Just lost in thought again.” She took his hand when he offered it as they walked back down the path towards the forest’s entrance, but she stared at the ground. “How was the meeting?”

  It was Barton’s turn to go a bit quiet before he replied. “Complicated.”

  “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

  He seemed to be searching the sky for the words, and when he slowed his pace, Phae knew it wasn’t because of any discomfort in his legs. “Yeah. A lot of somethings.” He’d grown used to the blades already — had been running with them, barely taking them off . . . a boon of the sports scholarship he’d graduated with. No, he’d told her there was no pain in his legs now. Said they were a part of him. But there was still something she saw flicker in his eyes.

  “I’m going away for a while. I dunno how long. And . . . well, I wanted to ask if you’d come with me.”

  They’d stopped altogether, and Barton was still holding her hand. She extracted it gently. “I’ll need a bit more than that to go on, karagosh.”

  He grinned at her pet name, but the smile faded quickly. “It’s the Rabbit Paramount. It’s what Arnas came over to talk to me about. My parents already knew something was going on with the higher-ups, now that they’re more involved with the Family again, but official word has just come down. He’s . . . well . . . they don’t know where the current Rabbit Paramount is. But they do know that his stone is missing. The Serenity Emerald.”

  Phae’s chest tightened. The first person she thought of was Roan. “What does that mean, it’s missing? Did someone take it? And how could they — I thought the stonebearer and their Calamity stone couldn’t be separated?” What Phae didn’t know about this bizarre world of Ancient could fill a library.

  “No one knows much. Or else, no one’s saying much.” Barton shrugged, then staggered as a fresh blast of wind nearly knocked them off the path. “You spoke to Roan recently, though, didn’t you?”

  Phae nodded. “Just a couple days ago. She seemed . . . she was alive.” Phae had told Barton about the explosion. He’d already said, after it happened, that the Fox Family would probably be looking into it, according to Arnas — but since the Families didn’t seem to cross lines to speak, it was tough to know what they would do about it.

  “Par for the course.” Barton zipped up his track jacket against the cooling evening air. “And has she heard from Eli?”

  “Why?” Phae knew where this was going, though she’d just asked Roan the same question on their call. “I don’t think so. He was going to Korea, I thought?”

  “He was.” A dark look passed over his face. “But he’s missing now, too.”

  So. It was as she feared. “Someone’s targeting the Paramounts. And the stones.” They walked for a bit in silence until they reached the parking lot and Phae’s car. The two got into her sedan, buckled up, and headed towards Wolesley.

  “Do they have any idea who it is? Or what? Or why?”

  “No,” Barton said. “This is all happening too fast. Everyone’s already saying that the Cinder Plague might be something darkling-derived, since it popped up so quickly after we got rid of Zabor . . .” He smirked. “Things were simpler, back then.”

  “Right.” Phae didn’t say what she really thought about times past she’d never get back. “So what does this have to do with us going away together?”

  “Well . . .” Barton was playing with the door lock, so Phae figured it was something she would already have a hard time going along with. “A gathering’s been called. There hasn’t been one in a long time, apparently. It’s a meeting of the Rabbit, Owl, and Fox Families. The Seal Family hasn’t mentioned if it’ll come. And there are no human representatives of the Deer Family, really. Can’t exactly trap a bunch and not expect a democratic stampede.” She caught him looking at her meaningfully from the corner of her eye, but she pretended to be focused on the road.

  “And where is this meeting? When?” Phae knew there had to be a catch, that he was trying to get her to go back out into the Denizen world since she was so useless in this one. She felt like she’d always be straddling a line between them.

  “A place called Magadan. In Russia. In a few days.” Barton said it all quickly, like it’d make it seem less than seven thousand miles away. “It’s around the place Eli’s plane disappeared. It’s not just a meeting to talk. They want to form a coalition. To fight.”

  This time, Phae did look at him. “To fight? Fight what?” She felt the panic rising, remembering their last battlefield and what had been lost there. “Do they think this is something to do with Zabor?”

  “
Like I said, no one knows. But they want to be ready. If something is out hunting the Calamity Stones, it can’t be good.” His mouth quirked. “I’d be less concerned if they were called the Fuzzy Bunny Stones, but apparently they’re dangerous if in the wrong hands.”

  “Anything is. Even a fuzzy bunny.” They were on Academy already, making good time towards the Maryland Bridge. Maybe too good.

  “Hey, you know it’s only fifty here, right?”

  Phae checked her speedometer and took her foot off the gas. Even her subconscious wanted this conversation to be over.

  “You want to go halfway across the world to join up with the magical army corps to fight an enemy you can’t name?” Phae didn’t mean for it to come out bitter and sharp, but she didn’t retract. “And you think I’d want to come with you? To do what, exactly?”

  “Phae . . .” Barton said gently. “I know things have been tough lately. And that your parents haven’t exactly made it any easier.” His hand tentatively moved to her knee. “You could use a break. To go away. And I thought, maybe, this might show you that you do have purpose. Even if you seem to think you don’t.”

  It was a good thing they were both belted in when Phae slammed on the brakes at the Wolesley intersection — the light had suddenly turned red and brought with it a wave of pedestrians who were nearly bludgeoned by the hood of her car.

  “It’s okay,” Barton was saying, trying to bring her back down. “Phae?”

  But Phae’s hands gripped the steering wheel, lighting up with flickers of blue and white. Her hair had crackled instantly into a crown of antlers too big for the driver’s side to accommodate. When the pedestrians had continued on unharmed, she knew they’d all been too preoccupied to notice they’d been saved by the shield she’d automatically generated.

  “No,” she said, taking the left sharply and heading mercifully closer to Barton’s house. “No, it’s not okay. I can’t just . . . I can’t go with you. It’s not my place. I need more information first. And there are things here I need . . . to do.”

  “Like what?” Barton seemed to feed off her agitation. “You picked up this photography thing on a whim — and the Phae I know barely knows the meaning of the word impulsive. I get that this whole thing reads like some great power great responsibility thing, and you’re trying to find your place in it all. But we’re both in the same boat here. I wasn’t raised in the thick of this stuff like other Denizens and neither were you.”

  He still hadn’t broken through by the time they’d parked in front of his house, and when his voice softened, Phae knew it was his last attempt. “We were both given gifts, Phae. Gifts that other people would kill for. And if we can help, especially after what happened here, with Zabor, why don’t you want to try? You wouldn’t have to be alone. I wouldn’t let you —”

  “But I do want to be alone!” Phae’s voice, more a high shriek, pinged in their ears in the silence that followed. She didn’t know who was more surprised — Barton or herself.

  “I see,” he replied flatly. “Well. I’m sorry I interrupted you, I guess.”

  She didn’t even turn her head when he got out. But she rolled down the window after he tapped a knuckle on the glass, and she met his gaze, her own misery reflected behind his glasses.

  “Just think about it, okay?” he said, trying to smile. Forcing it, like she had. “Even if you don’t come . . . I don’t want to leave like this.”

  Phae exhaled, the numbness passing. “Neither do I.”

  Barton’s mouth stiffened into a line as he patted the car door, turned, and went into his house.

  Phae wanted to get far away from here, and as quickly as possible. Russia suddenly felt like a solid destination to do just that, but only if Barton wouldn’t be there. Or the black hole promise of more monsters and bad guys to go up against — a fight that Phae didn’t have in her to join. Not now, anyway.

  She drove off. Had she always felt this anxious, deep down? Had she been burying it under a manufactured calm, protected by her scholastic achievements and the career path she’d chosen before she’d left kindergarten? You’d think the blinding heroics of last spring would have given her the same confidence boost it had to Barton, but to him this was all a comic book dream come true. Now Phae was the one who couldn’t move forward, let alone change. Power hadn’t made her feel stronger; instead it had done the exact opposite by exposing her weakness.

  Just think about it. What was there to think about? Even if she was armed with all the information, which either wasn’t forthcoming or didn’t exist yet, given that Denizens on the elder level were scrambling — what would be the tipping point for her to jump into any kind of fray?

  Roan had asked Phae to come to Edinburgh, even if the invitation was half-hearted. Phae knew Roan wanted to keep everyone away, just in case. But even with that request she’d felt more of a pull than she had from Barton just now.

  Phae’s phone went off in the cup holder, and she pulled over immediately after glancing down, seeing who it was.

  “Oh good, you picked up for once. Hope it isn’t a bad time?”

  Phae closed her eyes, summoning hard-won patience. “Best not get into it.”

  “Right, I won’t. You know I don’t like sharing.” She was thankful for Natti — always down to brass tacks. “If you’re not wallowing as usual, can you come to my place? Like —” There was a grunt as Natti seemed to drop the phone, then pick it up again. “Sorry. Yeah. Right now.”

  “Is it Aunty? Is she okay?” She’d been hearing from Natti with more frequency these days because of Aunty’s condition, which Phae couldn’t do much about — and even the gruff Natti, who had trouble asking for help at the best of times, was grateful.

  “Actually, she’s fine. But she’s not happy. And neither are the, uh, guests we’ve got.” The sound of something ripping, loud, near her ear and — what was that? A roar?

  “Do you have the nature channel on?” Phae frowned.

  “Something like that,” Natti clattered. “Look, it’s kind of an emergency. I know you don’t have anything else better to do. I’ll owe you. Well. I’ll owe you more.”

  Phae was already shifting back into drive. “On my way.”

  Wolesley, and all of Barton’s unanswered questions, faded in the rear-view as she headed north towards Portage, Roan’s words from their last conversation playing over the anxieties she pushed to the back of her mind: Purpose is your middle name.

  The Stonebearer’s Burden

  I was so engrossed in saying goodbye to Phae that I didn’t notice the woman come in and head straight for me. She grabbed me before I could pull away.

  “I know it’s you!” she spat in my face. Her breath was bitter and I recoiled when I got a clear look at her face, which was a knot of scars and burns, the eyes milky white, yet her teeth were in remarkable shape. “I could hear you, even out in the street, the noise . . . You thought you could come back without trying to find me? After everything? You thought —”

  I ripped my arm away and the woman staggered, shielding herself. I hadn’t noticed the arc of flame I’d generated until I saw it flash in those dead eyes. She was rail-thin, bent, wearing clothes that looked like they’d seen the battered side of a donation bin in the rain.

  I straightened my hoodie; after just talking about the Cinder Plague, I felt a sudden need for a scalding shower. “I . . . I think you’re confused.” I had to relax, push down the panic. Not everyone was out to get me — but after Table Five, I wasn’t taking chances. Even on a homeless derelict.

  I stepped around her and met all the eyes turned on us in the café. I thrust my hand into my pocket and pulled out a five-pound note to save face. “Here, maybe get yourself something hot to eat?”

  But she didn’t take the bill — just stared past me. Through me. Like she’d just been shaken out of sleepwalking. I knew she must be blind. I shoved the money into he
r hand and she recoiled again. The initial fury she’d met me with was now dull confusion.

  I turned to go, nearly made it to the door, before she said, “Cecelia? It is you, isn’t it? I heard —”

  By the time I’d turned, the café manager had come around the counter and between us. “You can’t be in here —” But the rest had been drowned out by the woman’s incoherent shrieks as she backed into the corner booth I’d just vacated, someone at a nearby table snickering and pointing their phone at her.

  I was out on the sidewalk and booking it back to my flat before I could watch the outcome. It was too much. Before I returned to the flat, I bought some blackout curtains. Might as well go full hermit.

  Why did I think going back out had been a good idea? It seemed like everyone, everywhere, was having a bad time of it. Cinder Plague, terrorist attacks, children disappearing, the environment tanking . . . Maybe not leaving the flat for a while would give me the illusion of safety — just like Phae’s reassurances. But right now, nowhere was really safe, was it?

  It was a couple days after the woman in the café. I got out of the bed and moved to the edge of the dark curtains, peering outside. My window looked out onto Lauriston Place, which connected, eventually, to the Meadows down the Middle Walk, near the Old Medical School. The sidewalks and roads were always a bustle of activity, but now it seemed like the shadows were deeper, even in the daylight. Were strangers looking up at my building, watching me watch them? I felt like a kid staring into a dark closet, the clothes on their hangers growing more monstrous with each passing breath.

  I closed the curtains and turned back to the room, pacing and chewing my nails down. The children are coming for you. I’d replayed it in my mind so many times, like a broken goddamn record, that it sounded like a hopscotch chant. A hostile playground charm. I hadn’t seen too many kids around since the explosion, though I’d kept my spirit eye out. The only young people dogging me were Ben and Athika, leaving well-meaning messages that brought me back, again and again, to the black marks I’d seen on them, marks so much like the ones on Table Five. Marks reminiscent of the hideous pile of ash they all should have been. I was relieved no one had been hurt, but . . . they should’ve been. And that made me all the warier.