Witch on a Roll

by Evelyn Snow

  What I planned was risky. What else was new? I was starting to believe risk-taking was a way of life for a jinx—or maybe that was just me. I’d gotten the idea from Gunny, which figured. He’d been trying to tell me about the bridge for a long time. I hadn’t been listening.

  The magic of closing the bridge wasn’t in actually making it vanish from the world; the magic was in making everyone believe the crossing was impossible. I wasn’t entirely sure Gunny had made me a believer. When Holden and I had experimented, learning how to cross five years ago, we’d fallen into the ocean plenty of times—and that was when the bridge was “open.”

  Tonight would tell the tale.

  Holden didn’t bother pulling to the side of the road. At this hour, there was no traffic. Ahead, the peaked roof of the Crossing House gleamed under floating globes of security lights. They rotated in a slow procession, flashing golden light onto the ocean waves below.

  “This is crazy,” he said at last. “It’s not worth risking your life. Even if you’re a jinx and proved you can break security wards, that doesn’t mean you can knock a hole in reality and drive through it. No one—not even you—can cross the bridge when it’s closed.”

  “Because the Pale was created to defend against people like me?” I challenged.

  He shrugged. “That’s how the story goes. Are you willing to die to prove Cassandra and Fiona wrong?”

  “How is my idea any crazier than a shifter driving a box truck full of Greater World junk into the Nightingale Lands?”

  “Yeah … that’s something I should have told you a long time ago,” he admitted. “When did you figure it out?”

  “I think I’ve always known. It was right there in front of me. When we walked across, we had to turn sideways to reality and then make the shift to step from one universe into another. How did you do that while driving thirty-thousand pounds of steel and rubber? I didn’t want to think about it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I never asked, and I should have. Five years ago, I let you do the hard work of studying that journal and putting together a plan. I told myself it was complicated and confusing. If I tried to help, I’d screw things up because that’s what I always do. I leaned on you when I should have at least attempted to pull my weight.”

  “Evie, that’s … not quite how it went.”

  “What are you saying?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t have to study the journal. I mean, it was interesting. You know how much I love old stuff. But I already knew how to cross the bridge. So, did my dad.”

  I frowned. “Wait. Your dad knew, but he wouldn’t tell you. He said it wasn’t safe and got mad when you asked about it.”

  “He got mad all right, but it wasn’t about how to cross the bridge. Remember the small box I kept in the glove compartment?”

  “The white one?” I asked, remembering. It had been about four inches by six and made from hard plastic. The top had been decorated with a black and white pop art design of flowers and butterflies around the profile of a woman with flowing hair.

  “It belonged to my mom,” Holden said. “It was one of the first gifts my dad bought her when they were dating. She was born in Cala in southern Alatar.”

  “Where?”

  “Alatar. It’s on the other side of the Tyr Mountains. Cala is a port city. Supposed to be beautiful. I’ve never been there.”

  “Wow,” I said. “She was from the Nightingale Lands? You never told me.”

  “I didn’t know myself until five years ago.”

  “When your dad closed his business and never went across again. Did it have something to do with your mom?”

  Holden turned his head to stare out the driver’s side window. “I found out she didn’t die when I was five.”

  My stomach turned. Lies coming from loved ones felt too fresh.

  “All those years my dad said he was taking stuff across to sell, he was hunting for her.” He looked back, his dark eyes wide. “I don’t think she wanted to be found.”

  My fingers clenched around the strap of my backpack. “I’m really starting to hate lies.”

  “It wasn’t a lie so much as a way of protecting me.”

  I fixed my gaze on the bridge ahead. “Is there a difference?”

  “Love matters, and love was part it. As for the rest—I don’t know. Who am I to judge?” He sighed. “Five years ago, I didn’t tell you I’d found out my mom was alive because it didn’t seem fair. Your parents were still gone. You needed answers. So did I. Even then, I didn’t know the whole truth. I still don’t.”

  I reached for Holden’s hand. “It’s okay. We’re good.”

  “You’re sure?” Concern laced his voice.

  “Even a few days ago, I wouldn’t have understood. Now, it makes sense. You and your dad could cross the bridge as long as something that belonged to your mom was in the truck. It was attuned to her, and she was attuned to the Nightingale Lands because she was born there.”

  “Not just that,” Holden said, “but because she’s still there. She’s still alive.”

  I squeezed his hand. “You have to find her.”

  “I know, and I will. Just not tonight.”

  “If you don’t want to go with me, I understand. Trying to cross when the bridge is closed is a crazy idea.”

  “Not just that,” he said, heat filling his gaze. “If you take a wrong turn, someone needs to be down on the beach to find you.” He lifted my hand to his lips. “I’m not going to kiss you now, because it might give you the wrong idea.”

  “What idea would that be?”

  “That I’m saying goodbye.”

  My breath caught in my throat. “I don’t know when or if I’ll be able to come back.”

  “When you do, you know where to find me.”

  Opening the car door, he climbed out, closing the door behind him while I slid behind the wheel and rolled down the window.

  He stepped back and let out a long breath. “Go prove them wrong.”

  Chapter 32

  Ninety seconds. That’s how long I was driving on the bridge before everything changed.

  It wasn’t the subtle glimmer of lights dancing against darkness I’d experienced the first time traveling across in the back of the box truck. A wall of something hard as ice, yet brittle, too, slammed against the car. A second later, I felt the scrape of it against my skin. Cold shards. Tiny needles. A million of them swirling in a gray and white cloud.

  Sixty more seconds and they formed into second wall. A line of defense keyed to the magic that flowed through my body. An image flashed across my mental screen. It showed my weak human body, impaled by a thousand knives, bleeding life and magical power into the Pale, a giant cloud forming into the shape of a bird with a wingspread that spanned a continent, and a silver beak, deadly and sharp, poised above my heart. I could not mount a defense, magical or physical, against a wall of ice knives any more than I could beat the predator ready to swallow me whole. If I had the guts to go the distance, I might last a few minutes, five at most.

  Be the jinx.

  I didn’t know what that meant. Uncle Delano had said a lot of things when he tried to tell me what it meant to be a jinx. How could I be a zag that followed a zig? Hello? Did that even make sense?

  The tires of the Ford still rumbled against actual pavement. I could hear the engine, feel the soothing vibrations through the cushioned seat. The air was still the same smoky NoCal air. It was tempting to keep going. Just drive. Reach the other side and turn around, telling myself I’d given it a shot. Tried my best and failed. Wasn’t that what my teachers wrote on my report cards in school? Evie always makes a good effort. Then they’d scrawl a big fat C.

  Screw that.

  Go prove them wrong.

  That was something I could work with. I might not have a clue how to be the incarnation of the number thirteen, but I wanted more than anything to prove Cassandra and Fiona and all the rest wrong. I wasn’t a demon. I wasn’t
a creature from the abyss between the worlds. I was Evie, a girl who wanted to become more than her past.

  Once before I had survived the Pale. I could do it again. A light, clear voice echoed in my memory:

  By daylight bright and evening gloom,

  may this child’s fate evade the tomb.

  Through storm and song, may her life prolong.

  By wand and tatter, will her peace be shattered,

  but in shadow and fade, her hopes shall be made.

  I speak no lie by earth and sky.

  I say it true, by air and fire, for I am Ivy Butterbriar.

  The fast flutter of tiny wings buzzed in my ear, reminding me I had friends in the Nightingale Lands. Someday, I would find Ivy and learn more about her gift. Someday, I’d bring Holden with me and help him find his mother. It was the realm of my birth. It was where I belonged.

  Inside, I felt a click and a slow shift as parts within me moved and aligned in a configuration that was new and familiar at the same time.

  I pressed on the accelerator and the old Ford shot forward. The aching screech of nails on glass ripped through the air. Then the clouds parted. The sky cleared to a deep, dark blue bleeding into black, and I could see a swath of stars.

  I’d reached the Nightingale Lands.

  Ahead loomed the Crossing House. Every window was dark except one on the third floor. I pulled to a stop and shut off the engine.

  The scent of honeysuckle filled the car. I wasn’t alone. A young woman sat in the passenger seat. She had a white towel wrapped around her head and she wore a pink bathrobe.

  “Rebecca?”

  “I haven’t been called that in a long time.” She smiled. “Thank you for bringing me home.”

  “I didn’t know if it would work. I’m glad it did.” I leaned forward, craning my neck to see through the windshield. “Your brother’s upstairs. He’s been waiting for you.”

  She gasped, looking down, and tugged at the belt of the bathrobe. “I don’t want him to see me like this. My hair’s still wet.”

  “Can’t you change?” I had no idea what she was capable of—this witch who had become more than a witch only to sacrifice a chance at life to stop a monster. If she could do that, I figured conjuring a fresh outfit and hairstyle would be a breeze.

  Her eyes brightened. “Oh, yes, you’re right.” With that, she popped out of view.

  She really was very pretty and much younger than Ballard. It was hard to find a resemblance between the siblings. If I hadn’t remembered her name from when Fiona forced me to read the list of victims alleged to have died in the bridge collapse, I wouldn’t have made the connection between Duncan’s “Becca” and Rebecca Kepler.

  Why else would a true believer like Ballard have set aside his rigid procedures and worked with Artemis Ashmore unless it was to save his sister?

  Duncan had failed to take her home. I’d managed the last leg of the journey. The only reason she could manifest here on the bridge, I suspected, was because of the spells associated with the Pale. She would be trapped here.

  “Not trapped,” Rebecca said as she slowly materialized again in the passenger seat. She’d changed into a yellow sun dress with skinny straps and a full skirt. Her dark hair fell in shiny waves to her shoulders. “Home.”

  Did she mean the Nightingale Lands?

  As soon as the thought formed in my mind, she said, “No. The Pale is my home. I’m made of magic now, not flesh and bones. The Pale is the greatest spell ever cast. It’s a world of magic unto itself, and it’s where I can live.”

  “You didn’t die in the bridge collapse, did you?”

  “My parents had taken me across a few days before to see specialists in the Greater World.”

  “So, you were sick?”

  “I had spectral disorder then. My parents left me at the clinic. They were on their way back home when the bridge collapsed.” She smoothed the folds of her skirt. “In a way, the professor cured me, although it wasn’t what he intended.”

  “I’m not going to let him hurt anyone else.”

  “That may turn out to be more difficult than you think.” Her dark brows pushed together. “He will never cross the Pale again. He will never enter this realm—not as long as I’m alive.” She smiled grimly. “If he tries, I’ll be waiting for him.”

  The door to the Crossing House banged open. Ballard rushed through, holding his wand before him like a weapon. He must have seen Rebecca sitting in the car because he stumbled and dropped his wand, a hand going to his mouth.

  Rebecca frowned. “He looks terrible—older than Father. What happened?”

  “You’ve been gone a long time. But think of this way, you’ll have plenty of time to catch up.”

  She opened the car door. Before getting out, she turned back and said, “Promise you’ll come visit.”

  And then she ran to her brother.

  * * *

  Cassandra waited for me at the foot of the bridge. Behind her, Serenity Point was dark and shuttered. Dots of red light glowed on the spire atop city hall and high above the tower of Battenborne Castle. When I pulled the car to a stop and got out, the slow dimming of the headlights cast us in darkness. We were alone. The only sound came from the lapping of the river against the barges supporting the bridge.

  She opened her hand, holding her palm flat. A ball of fire appeared. I thought about ducking, which seemed like the prudent thing to do. Then I remembered what I’d faced on the bridge and thought, bring it, witch. Only she tossed the ball of fire into the air where it hovered, lighting the space around us.

  “Nice trick.” Cassandra gestured at the car. The red paint glowed like rubies under the fire ball. “Is it loaded with what I think it is?”

  I watched her closely, not sure what to make of anything. She didn’t appear to want my head on a platter. If she did, she’d already passed up a few opportunities.

  “Depends.”

  “According to Morrigan Shade,” she said, “the vehicle is full of magic that belongs to Professor Ashmore and the Whitfield Clinic. I’ve been ordered to apprehend you on sight and confiscate the contents of the vehicle.”

  “Yeah, I can’t let you do that.”

  She smiled. “Good. I didn’t really want to—too much paperwork—and Morrigan Shade doesn’t give orders to the MBI. She appears to have forgotten that no one owns magic. My mother wants to have a chat with her.”

  Something like relief flooded through me along with a healthy dose of confusion. “Where do we go from here?”

  “The car and everything in it should be turned over to the Wheel, but that’s why you brought it across, right?”

  I nodded.

  She walked over to the car, running her hands over the curve of the hood. “I’ve never ridden in one of these before. Will you give me a ride?”

  “Sure.” A laugh escaped me that was equal parts relief and surprise. “I’m told internal combustion engines don’t always work well in Serenity Point, so I don’t know how far we’ll be able to go.”

  She frowned. “Will it explode?”

  “No.” I was pretty sure that was true. Holden said his dad had left his truck in Serenity Point and loaded his cargo into wagons any time he went beyond the city limits.

  “All right, then.” She opened the passenger door. “Let’s go.”

  “Where to?”

  “How about we take it to your old house? Then my mom can send someone from the Wheel to pick it up in the morning. Do you mind dropping me off at my house? My mom wanted me to make sure you made it across safely.”

  “Your mom,” I said dully. “The stormbringer.”

  “None other.”

  When I was sitting behind the wheel and Cassandra was in the passenger’s seat, I asked, “Are you feeling all right?”

  “I’m fine. Why?”

  “You’re being… nice. It’s strange. No offense.”

  “None taken. I was really hard on you, harder than you deserved. I’m sorry. Devi was right an
d my mom was wrong. I know that now. You’re not a demon or anything else people whispered about. The evidence was on the Seezall. It showed very clearly what you are. You’re a jinx, Evie, just like Devi said. A jinx without a twin is rare, but not unheard of.” She smiled and reached to give me a hug. “My mother wants to claim you for Rhiannon’s Wheel. I told her she can’t have you. You’re an MBI agent.”

  I hugged her back. The feeling was surreal.

  Looking outside at the deserted streets, I said, “Where is everyone?”

  “Did Morrigan say anything about the breakout?” she asked.

  “She said there a situation over here and it was serious. That’s about it. She wouldn’t say anything more.”

  Cassandra narrowed her eyes. “It’s more than a situation, but she’s right that it’s serious. After the bridge was closed for the eclipse, there was a breakout from the dungeons. All of them. Hundreds of prisoners escaped.”

  “Hundreds?”

  “We don’t have an accurate number. My job has been to go from castle to castle and talk to the owners. Many of the dungeons hadn’t been opened in centuries. Some castle keepers had never taken inventory and didn’t know what was down there.”

  “What are we talking about?”

  “Demons, dragons, undead sorcerers, monsters of all kinds. Devi and Sullivan and almost every other MBI agent are hunting them.”

  “Before he left, the professor had been visiting Callum Shade.”

  She nodded. “He’s one of the worst offenders. Devi believes Shade planned the breakout with the help of Professor Ashmore. You wouldn’t know what happened to him, would you?”

  “With any luck, an ODiN agent has him in custody by now.”

  “The Greater World won’t be able to hold on to a wizard that powerful,” Cassandra said. “The realm doesn’t understand magic or what he can do.”

  I couldn’t disagree. “He won’t be able to come back here. Ever.”

  While I drove, I told her what had happened over the last few days and about Rebecca Kepler.