by Katie Cross
A hint of a smile played around the edges of his lips. “I knew you weren’t a fan of etiquette, but taking off your shoes with the High Priestess? You’re either brave or clueless. Sometimes I tend to think the latter.”
I slugged him on the shoulder, and he ducked away, laughing. “Hey! You were spying on me. And she invited me to remove my shoes, thank you very much. We’re practically soul sisters. Thanks to her, Brecken is still alive.”
He sobered. “No, I wasn’t spying. I was protecting you, as Derek assigned me. That’s all. I don’t spy on you for enjoyment. I protected you. Understand?”
For some reason, my acknowledgment seemed important to him. “Okay. I get it.”
His shoulders relaxed.
“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” I asked. “It would be nice to know when you’re lurking around my life.”
“Your father makes sure it’s not that often anymore,” he said. “Look, the less you know, the better. How good of friends did you and Isobel become, exactly? She must think a lot of you to lend you a Volare.”
I glared at him but couldn’t stay angry at those emerald eyes for long and gave in with a resigned sigh. “We’ve written a few letters, that’s all. She reminds me of my grandmother.”
The deep furrows in his brow meant he didn’t feel as inclined to the friendship as I did.
“Just be careful, okay? She may seem nice, but she’s still a ruling member of the Eastern Network. Who knows if she’s using you for something, like information.”
I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, Merrick? Isobel? She’s so weak she can’t walk. Her husband doesn’t even want her to know there’s a war going on. She spends all day alone in her room, not even the maids can give her information. She’s dying.”
He scowled, and I found the intensity of his expression both attractive and reassuring. Whatever Merrick was to me, best friend or assigned protection or … whatever, I was just glad he was on my side.
“Exactly. Sometimes the ones we perceive as weakest are just hiding their strength. Never underestimate your opponent. You already know that rule.”
“Isobel isn’t my opponent. Angelina is.”
He didn’t disagree.
“Let’s go for a run,” I suggested, brightening. “Please? Oh, Merrick, I need to hit the trails, but Stella made me promise not to go on my own because of the West Guard hysteria. I think it’s safe because of the dragons, but whatever. Will you go with me? Please?”
He studied me, hesitating. When he turned away, the muscles in his jaw ticked.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” I asked, floundering in desperation. “Can’t you feel it? Can’t you feel my magic? It’s getting out of control again.”
“Because I made a promise to your father to keep you safe, and Letum Wood isn’t safe.”
I grabbed his arm. My skin burned where his touched mine, the sensation almost as strong as the disappointment of my crashing hopes. “It’s just a run, Merrick. Please?”
His eyes met mine. “I can’t, Bianca. I want to, believe me. I miss our runs. But I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Trust me,” he muttered, turning away. “You don’t want to know.”
The Book of Light
Ever since the Southern Network’s invasion five weeks before, I hadn’t seen Isadora once.
She spent most of her time with my father, helping coordinate attacks and responses. Her presence at his side didn’t guarantee success, but it certainly gave us an advantage that we desperately needed against the Almorran magic. So when I walked into the apartment one evening after being cooped up in Marten’s office all day to see Isadora sitting on our divan chatting with Reeves, I stopped in my tracks.
“Isadora?”
Her bent, old back curled around a cup of tea. Until that moment I had forgotten that she’d agreed to look into a way to prevent Angelina from taking over the world.
“Merry meet, Bianca,” Isadora called, as if she made social calls like this every day. “I’m glad you’ve returned. I’ll wait while you clean up.”
Reeves eyes drifted to my muddy, bare feet and the messy hem of my dress. He cleared his throat and lifted an eyebrow.
“Sorry, Reeves,” I said, grabbing a towel he kept folded near the door for just this event. He lifted his eyebrows but said nothing as I wiped down my feet and cleared the mud particles with a collection incantation. They soared to the window and flew outside when it opened. Reeves had a warm basin of water waiting in my bedroom, so I stripped off my muddy clothes and scrubbed down in a quick bath before changing into a fresh dress. Sitting by herself in front of the low fire when I returned, Isadora motioned to the chair across from her.
“Eat while I explain what I’ve seen.”
“I’d forgotten that you were going to look into something to combat the Book of Spells,” I said when I sat down. “What did you find?”
Reeves had set out a few slices of bread and a crock of butter for my dinner. Tough find these days, when most butter was sent to the Guardians or kept for the sick. Of course, anything would have tasted better than an empty stomach.
“Most witches know about the Almorran Book of Spells because it’s the reason we fear so much from history,” Isadora began. “Despite Esmelda’s many attempts to find and destroy the book after the settling of the Networks, it was lost. Most believe it was destroyed in the final battle that brought down the Almorran race, but there’s no historical confirmation of that.”
“The Book of Spells obviously wasn’t destroyed,” I said with confidence. “How else would Miss Mabel have called Clavas last summer? Or do the lesser scrolls really exist the way Miss Mabel said?”
“There are rumors a few scrolls survived with some spells on them, yes. But whether or not the scrolls exist doesn’t really matter anymore. I realized when we were last speaking that I’ve overlooked a very important detail: Every black magic has a counter.”
The slice of bread halted halfway to my mouth. “A counter?”
“Every black magic has a counter,” she repeated. “It’s the nature of magic, of life. It’s the law of opposition. You cannot form a truly great, powerful magic without some way of controlling it, and the Almorrans were no exception, no matter how hard they tried. Opposition lies in all things, Bianca, even magic.”
“So what’s the counter?”
“In Almorran circles, it was referred to as the Book of Secrets because they didn’t want anyone to know the spells inside,” she said with greater enthusiasm. “The rest of the world knew it as the Book of Light because it fights off the Almorran darkness. It isn’t well known, and is less believed in than the Book of Spells, but I believe that it may have also survived. We must hope it did. For if it didn’t, Antebellum cannot fight back against Angelina and Mabel. But if it can be found, we have the smallest glimmer of hope.”
My mind flew back to my conversation with Miss Mabel. Hadn’t she said they weren’t looking for the Book of Spells all along? And I vaguely remembered her once saying the words Book of Secrets. Perhaps Angelina had tasked Miss Mabel with finding the Book of Light to prevent any other witch from stopping their ascent to power.
“Where is it?” I asked, my heart fluttering. “The Book of Light, I mean.”
Isadora swallowed hard. “I don’t know. I’ve been studying and searching, but I can’t see very much. I’m worried that something big needs to happen for the future possibilities to shift enough for me to see a path that ends with us finding the Book of Light. As it stands, none of our paths show anything very encouraging.”
I couldn’t fathom the power and concentration it must take for Isadora to predict future possibilities for an entire Network. Leda managed it for one or two witches at a time and occasionally for a group, but that gave her a headache that took total silence and a potion to recover from.
“So my suspicion is true,” I concluded. “Marten and I have been looking for the wrong book all this time.”
/> “I don’t think you’d find either of them in a library,” Isadora replied with a smile. “If the Book of Light does exist still, which is unlikely, it must be very well hidden, I would imagine.”
“The Book of Spells was found in a farmhouse.”
“If the story is true, yes. I suppose either of them could be anywhere.”
“Do you know the last person to have it?”
Isadora shook her head. “No. There’s even less information on the Book of Light than on the Book of Spells.”
“What if we do find it? What then? Are we able to just defeat Angelina?”
“I’m sure it will take a very powerful witch to wield the magic appropriately. Even good magic can be used for foul purposes.”
“Did Mildred know about the Book of Light?”
“I doubt it. If Marten hasn’t said anything, I don’t know that she knew either.”
I felt weak. “Do you think Angelina or Miss Mabel have the Book of Light already? If they have both books, we have no chance. Perhaps that’s why Angelina is stirring up the Factios and the other Networks.”
“If so, I doubt they’ve had it for long, or I think they would have acted before now. I believe now more than ever that my earlier suspicions were correct: Mabel—and Angelina, for that matter—didn’t act sooner because of Mildred.”
“What are we going to do, Isadora?”
She blinked several times, eventually pulling herself from what must have been a tangled web of thought.
“I’m going to tell your father and Marten,” she said, stacking her hands on top of each other on her lap. “And then I’ll continue searching the future.”
“I suppose there’s nothing more we can do?” I asked with a glimmer of hope. “What if I started searching libraries? Or the ancient scrolls in the Chatham Castle library? Maybe there’s something about the Book of Light.”
“In all your research on the Book of Spells, have you ever seen the Book of Light mentioned?”
“No,” I whispered, dismayed. “I suppose not.”
“You could try, but I’m afraid it would lead to dead ends. I feel the best course is to wait. Let me continue searching. Sometimes we need to let fate decide her own course. It’s amazing what possibilities can open in just a few minutes. For now, we must press forward and see what the future brings.”
“Do we have that luxury?” I asked. “Witches are dying.”
“We don’t have a choice.”
Whatever It Takes
Later that week I fell into an uneasy sleep on the divan while waiting for Papa to come home from a visit to the Borderlands. I hadn’t seen him in over a week, and the only letters he managed to send were updates that went right to Stella.
Another nightmare held me back, bands of darkness tightening around me. I resisted at first, but remembering that I’d be able to face Angelina again, finally gave in. Once I stopped fighting it, I found myself standing in Letum Wood on a foggy spring day, surrounded by wispy clouds. The flash of a pair of familiar, different-colored eyes startled me in the swirling darkness.
Leda.
I reached out, but she disappeared in a flash of white, then blue, and white again. Someone screamed. An unexpected blaze of blue light nearly blinded me. I whirled away from it, and when I looked up again, Leda stood only a few paces away, her face twisted in horror.
Let my daughter go.
No. I watched Leda fade from my sight. We’ll never release Miss Mabel.
Shadows danced in the distance, moving in the vague form of a womanly figure walking toward me. My heart sped up, but I felt no fear, only anger.
Aren’t you afraid of me, Bianca?
No.
You should be. I’ll destroy you.
Fine. You can try. My father will break you first.
Angelina laughed, but it wasn’t like Miss Mabel’s sultry, low tones. It sounded hard and unamused.
I hold your Network in my hands. Not even war scares you?
No.
Leda appeared again, reaching out to me, fear etched in her expression.
Then I shall have to hit closer to home until you give me what I want. I’ll do whatever it takes to get my daughter back.
Leda flickered before my eyes again, then disappeared. I realized that the fog wasn’t fog; it was smoke. An acrid, bitter smell burned my nostrils. The ground beneath my feet billowed in clouds of the noxious smoke, wrapping around my ankles and reaching up my legs in long tongues of gray.
I jerked awake with a strangled scream.
My neck ached from the cricked position I lay in, so I rolled onto the floor with a groan. A low fire crackled in the hearth, casting a little warmth on the open space of our apartment. Outside, a brand new sun brightened the sky. I must have slept in.
Angelina’s voice whispered through my mind, distant, fading as the last clutches of sleep left me.
Whatever it takes.
I shoved thick locks of my dark hair from my face. They clung to my damp skin like seaweed. The touch of my cool palm on my cheek brought me back closer to reality.
“How’s the view down there?” a deep voice asked. I shot off the floor, grabbed Viveet from her place at my side, and whirled around to find Papa sitting in the chair across from me.
“Papa!” I cried, straightening. “Please help me! I have to go find Leda right now.”
He stood, alerted by the fear in my voice. “What?”
“I had a dream,” I said, stumbling over the words while I sheathed Viveet again. “We have to go find her!”
“She’ll be with Jansson, right?” he asked, moving toward me without hesitation.
“I-I think. I don’t know!”
He grabbed my arm above the elbow and before I knew what had happened, both of us were transporting. I found myself standing next to him in Jansson’s empty office.
“Not here,” I whispered. Papa transported us to Stella’s office.
“Stella, have you seen Jansson anywhere?” he asked the moment we arrived. “We’re looking for him and Leda.”
Stella glanced up from where she sat behind the massive High Priestess’s desk, looking swamped by its enormous size. Mildred had never seemed small behind it, even though she had been short and compact. Stella’s more fragile look made her seem petite.
“I think he’s in Chatham City for meetings with Clive and a few High Witches,” she said. “Why?”
“Papa,” I whispered, a dark feeling growing in my chest. “I—”
“Check the Witchery. I’ll go to Clive’s office.”
“Derek, what’s—”
The door to Stella’s office slammed open. A witch that looked a little like Merrick—it must be Merrick under a transformation spell, I realized a moment later—
burst into Stella’s office carrying a large bundle draped in a cloak. A patch of white hair rested on his shoulder.
“Stella! We need help.”
Tobias strode in behind him, Jansson slung over his shoulder. A rivulet of blood ran down Jansson’s face and over his mouth. His nose looked badly broken. One eyebrow bled, and his arm bent at an unnatural, grotesque angle. An odious smell trailed in with them, so faint I barely recognized it as the scent from my dream.
“What happened?” Papa demanded, carefully pulling Jansson from Tobias’s shoulder. They guided him into a chair, where he groaned.
“Another Factios attack in Chatham City. We levitated them with a spell and ran back as fast as we could,” Merrick panted. “Chatham City is in chaos again. I didn’t want to try going to an apothecary there.”
“Get my healing herbs and oils,” Stella said to Dyana, her Assistant, as she calmly rose to her feet. Dyana transported away while I rushed to Merrick.
“Leda! Put her here on the couch.”
Merrick—with red hair and a long nose—carried Leda to the divan and set her down. A rush of darkness overwhelmed my mind.
Whatever it takes.
“What happened?” I asked, banishing A
ngelina’s voice. Leda’s eyes fluttered open, her mouth tugging down in a grimace.
“Oh, just a friendly little attack,” she muttered, pressing a hand to her head. “That’s all.”
“Are you all right? You’re alive?”
“I’m fine,” she said, frantically pushing herself up to seek out Jansson. “Is Council Member Jansson all right? Will he make it?”
“He’ll make it,” Merrick said, turning to Papa. The reddish strands of his hair started to deepen back into his normal sandy blonde. “The Factios attacked Council Member Jansson when he walked into Clive’s office for a meeting.”
“You were there?” I asked. Merrick nodded once. The chocolate color of his eyes faded, giving way to emerald green.
Stella pressed a cool cloth to the side of Jansson’s face. “Hush,” she crooned. “Don’t try to speak, Jansson. Just relax for a minute.”
“They used a series of explosions,” Tobias said to Papa, stepping out of Stella’s way. Blood stained the white sleeves of his shirt. “I’ve never seen it before, brother. It was just like the Southern Covens, only in the streets of the Chatham City, and far worse.”
“Burning ash?” Papa asked.
Tobias shook his head. “No. The smoke it gave off choked any witch that breathed it in. Once they took a deep breath of it, they didn’t breathe again. We removed every witch we could, but …”
“Were the explosions white and blue?” I asked, whirling around. Tobias peered at me with a queer expression.
“Yes.”
“Get back to Chatham City,” Papa ordered Tobias and Merrick. “Get it under control. Take a contingent of Guardians from the castle if you have to.”
“Be careful,” I whispered to Merrick.
“No worries, little troublemaker,” he murmured under his breath, and the sudden warmth in his voice sent a rush of heat through my skin.
“There are already a few Guardians there,” Tobias said, but Merrick had already left. “At least ten bystanders are dead already I would guess, twenty more injured. Jansson would have died if it wasn’t for that pale little girl.”
