Cogling

by Jordan Elizabeth

  Rachel folded her arms, her brow furrowed. “You’re the ones with the chance to be something you want. I was trapped in that house.”

  “Cease.” Hilda glided between them. “We are doomed to be born where we are, but we choose where to die. I could have been one of those hags who enslave children. I could have been a famous godmother like Mother Sambucus. The Saints know I have the knowledge. Instead I chose to help the poor.”

  Ike snorted. “And remain anonymous.”

  Hilda straightened her shoulders. “I attended one of the kingdom’s best boarding schools. I could have done many things.”

  “So could I,” Ike said. “Instead I’m here helping others.” He glanced at Edna. “Be anything you want. You saved your brother. Always remember that.”

  Her heart leapt. “I did the impossible and rescued my human brother from the hags. Ike, you’re right. I can do anything.”

  She really wanted to kiss him again. Even if he was half-hag and lived on the streets, she didn’t care; after they finished with the King, she didn’t want to split ways.

  The train’s steam whistle blew twice. They stood still and silent until the train chugged forward, taking them from home again, away from prison, toward a place where they might be killed. Edna squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart ached as it raced.

  “I’m going to lie down.” Rachel headed to the bunks. “Wake me when we get there.”

  “It’ll be sometime tomorrow night,” Ike said.

  “We’re safe in here.” Hilda retrieved one of her satchels and sat at a desk built into the wall, where she removed a leather-bound book, quill pen, and glass vial of ink. As she began to write, Edna glanced at Ike.

  “She keeps journals,” he said. “All hags do.”

  “Do you?” Harrison asked.

  Ike sat beside the boy on the sofa. “Not anymore, but I used to. When my mother died, I burned all of them. I didn’t want to remember anything about that life.” Although his face remained impassive, his voice hitched. Edna’s heart ached for him.

  “Harrison?” Hilda called. “Do you know how to write?”

  “O’ course I do.” He puffed his chest. “Mum taught Eddie and me when we was kids.”

  Hilda opened the top drawer in the desk to pull out sheets of blank stationary and a lead pencil. “Come keep a diary then.”

  “Why is all this in there?” He took the supplies, staring at them with widened eyes.

  “We’re rich, remember?” She winked. “These sorts of things always come with wealthy accommodations.”

  Ike rested his hand on Edna’s elbow to guide her toward the bunks. “I want to talk to you somewhere private.”

  “We never got blank paper at home,” Edna said as she sat beside Ike on the lower bunk. “We had to use slates or the wrappings from meat.” When he glanced at her, she added, “The clean sides.”

  “Did Mother Sambucus give you that?” He grabbed her hand.

  “What?” She blinked.

  “The cameo. She gave it to you, didn’t she?” He scowled. “She knew I’d see it on you.”

  “She didn’t give it to me.” Edna pulled her hand free.

  His forehead creased. “Where did you get it?”

  “A hag gave it me, but it wasn’t Mother Sambucus. This hag helped Rachel and I escape.”

  “So she’s a friend.” He shut his eyes. “That would explain why she kept it.”

  “Sometimes when I’m in trouble, I can rub it, and… things happen.” She wracked her brain for a better way to word the magic.

  “Powerful hags sometimes make cameos into talismans. They put a little magic in them to use in case something happens, such as if they are too weak to call on their own powers,” Ike explained. “Anyone else who touches the talisman can also use the magic.”

  “Always cameos?” Edna unpinned the brooch to study it. “Hag magic at my fingertips.”

  “Yes, shaped in the hag’s silhouette.” Ike sighed. “That one was my mother’s.”

  “What?” Edna dropped the cameo into her lap. “But your mother is….” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word.

  “Gone.” He dug his heel against the floor. “The hag who helped you must have been one of my mother’s friends. She probably guarded the cameo for her.”

  “Didn’t your mother have it on when she…?”

  “I don’t remember. No, she couldn’t have. I buried her body.”

  Edna squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. No one should have to do that.”

  “It happens.” He brushed her off. She wanted to hug him, but didn’t want him to pull away again.

  “Do you want the cameo?” She set it on his leg. “I’m sure the hag wanted me to get it to you.”

  “Keep it. You need the magic for now.” He fastened it to her high collar. When his fingers brushed her chin, her heart skipped a beat.

  “Later, it’s yours,” she pressed.

  Ike kissed her forehead. “Thank you. For now, go sleep. Even a talisman can’t save you from death.”

  Edna stiffened.

  “I’ll protect you.” He nudged her toward the bunks. “Sometimes good intentions are enough.”

  “I have to tell you something.” She held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut.

  “What is it?” He cupped her cheek.

  Edna released her breath in a hiss. “I can trust you, right?” She peered into his dark eyes. “I never told anyone this. It hurts me, having the secret. Hurts me real bad.”

  He rested his forehead against hers. “You can trust me, Edna.”

  She pressed her face into his shoulder so he wouldn’t have to look at her. “Sometimes I feel this thing inside of me. Its like an energy, a power. It comes when I’m angry, or scared, or sometimes it just comes, and if I let it go, it can be destructive. It’s evil.” Tears burned her eyes and she pressed against him harder. “It won’t go away, and I can only push it back. I have tricks to keep it there, in my heart. When I’m near Harrison, or when I’m reading, or when I’m near you—”

  He stroked the back of her head. “Edna, does it crawl across you? Does it creep out and cover your whole body?”

  She leaned back to peer up at his face, frowning. “You’ve heard of it before? Do you think Hilda can heal me? I’ve never told anyone, not even the priests. I was afraid they would… shun me.” Kill me. A shudder coursed through her, but the evil stayed back.

  “It’s magic.”

  “What?” She wrinkled her nose. “This is something different.”

  “That’s what magic feels like. We have innate magic in our hearts. It’s natural energy and it responds to our emotions. It will creep out over your body until you have a grip on it. I don’t even feel mine now. It’s always there.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s evil.”

  “That’s because you don’t understand it.”

  She swayed, and he held her around the waist tighter. After a lifetime of fear, could it be as simple as magic? Could magic be good? “I can’t have magic. I’m human.”

  “That must be why the cameo reacts to you so well. We’ll figure it out together. After all this is over, I’ll practice with you. You’ll master it so you won’t have to be afraid.”

  “Ike…” She choked on a sob. “Don’t tell anyone yet, please, not until we know for sure.”

  The evil didn’t creep out from her heart so, for once, she didn’t have to push it back.

  Why should I believe you now?

  dna kept Harrison’s hand tight in hers as they dashed from the train. Her veins thudded in her ears, muting the chaos surrounding them: people screamed, luggage smashed, and the whistle blew. They’d finally reached the King, yet only the Saints knew how he’d receive them. She could almost feel the hot breath of the police scalding the back of her neck. However, the evil—or magic, if Ike was correct—stayed in her heart as if finally at peace.

  Over the heads of the bustling crowd, a towering carousel rose up from the platform. Ribbons c
onnected the spire to a wrought-iron fence and steam pumped out of pipes around the glass-domed roof, with violin music playing from a steam-powered phonograph player. Children in bright clothes rode the carved animals while parents and nannies watched from behind the fence.

  “What’s that?” Harrison tugged her toward the carousel.

  If only she could allow him to play on it and pretend they were mere visitors.

  Ike grabbed his other hand. “That’s one of the grandest attractions in Flynt City. Nobles and business folk come from all over the kingdom for an audience with the King, and most bring their families.”

  “I never got to come,” Rachel muttered.

  “Do many people live here?” Edna pointed at the gilded sign over the train station, which read: Flynt. “I always pictured the city where the King lived as housing his court and that was all.”

  “Most of the city consists of the castle,” Ike explained. “The buildings are hotels.”

  “For the King’s advisors to stay in?” Harrison asked.

  Ike laughed. “Those folks go to resorts on the beaches and in the mountains. The hotels are for the visitors. This way. We’ll hire a steam cab.”

  Ike carried one satchel while Edna lugged the other, keeping Harrison between them. Hilda and Rachel brought up the rear, Rachel twirling a lace parasol. Edna thanked the Saints for the crowd, affording them cover to hide within, to disappear into the masses. “Remember, look like average tourists.” The air hung still and hot until they reached the street, where a sharp wind whipped between the towering buildings. The brick structures reminded Edna of Moser City, with gargoyles adorning the corners and cherubs engraved on the doors. She bit her lower lip. Home lay across the country. Even if she went back, nothing would be the same. Harrison had lost his innocence, and they were both jobless. Other than speaking with the King and reuniting with their parents, she couldn’t picture the future.

  When they reached the street, Ike released Harrison and raised two fingers. “Cabbie!” A steam cab rumbled by, but another screeched to a halt beside them. Edna’s nerves tingled. She’d gotten to ride in a locomobile and now she would get into a cab. With her fancy clothes, she could pass as a real young woman of worth.

  The driver tipped his hat. “Where to, m’dears?”

  “Langston Palace,” Ike opened the door to help the girls inside, and Harrison followed. Edna wished they were back on the street as soon as Ike sealed them inside. Stuffiness closed around her head to make her ears ring. The scent of spices tickled her nose, and she sneezed.

  “Bless you.” Hilda handed her a lace handkerchief.

  “Thank you.” Edna blew her nose and tucked the linen scrap into her sash. “I can’t believe I forgot mine. Sorry for dirtying yours.” Harrison pressed his face against the glass window in the door. “Look at the people. They all look nice.”

  Edna glimpsed a man in a suit selling apples from a canopied cart and her mouth salivated for the juicy fruit. The shining red skin didn’t have the dullness engineered fruit possessed. “That fruit must be real.”

  “Is this the nice section?” Harrison asked. “I don’t see any beggars.”

  Ike leaned back on his bench, crossing his legs. “The police drive them out. Flynt is a city just for those who can afford it.”

  “Then the beggars come to Moser.” Rachel shook her head. “Our city of poorhouses and factories.”

  Ike scowled. “Why should the King see how his people suffer?”

  Edna glowered at his sarcasm.

  “That’s what advisors are for,” Rachel said.

  Edna frowned, biting her fingernail. “You have to experience things to really understand them.”

  Rachel shrugged. “He’s the King. He can’t be everywhere and do everything.”

  “But the poor need him,” Edna said. “Think of the babes left abandoned on doorsteps awaiting someone to take them in, to drop them off at an orphanage, or to freeze at night. They can’t make enough on their own.”

  “There is only so much wealth in the kingdom,” Rachel said.

  “Once, my mother had laryngitis and couldn’t sing for a week, so the Music Hall didn’t want her.” The memory sent a shiver along Edna’s spine. “She couldn’t work, so she didn’t get paid. Harrison was too young to work then, and my father was still away. All we had that week were my coins. There wasn’t enough money for heat. We barely got by on a loaf of bread and a bit of cheese.”

  “A hag could’ve cured that,” Rachel said.

  “With an enchanted scarf made by children?” Harrison snorted.

  Edna squeezed his hand. “How could we afford a hag’s healing?”

  “Then what would you have the King do?” Rachel glared out the window. “He can’t give out free money.”

  “He could open more shelters. The only orphanages are owned by private folk who want the child labor.”

  “He could open public schools,” Ike mused. “Education wouldn’t depend on families and tutors.”

  The steam cab turned a corner and Harrison whistled. “Is that Langston Palace?”

  “Sure is.” Ike frowned at the ceiling. Edna glanced up, but didn’t see anything worthy of attention. Why did he go out of his way to avoid looking out the window?

  The steam cab halted and the passengers disembarked. Ike paid the driver while Edna and Harrison gaped at the massive fence of brick and metal. Beyond it, past a manicured lawn, sat a six-story building with domed towers and balconies. The palace stretched long enough to occupy three city blocks. The beige stones of the outside were draped with flowering vines and hanging crimson flags.

  Edna whistled. “Odds bobs, this place is unbelievable. Rachel, I thought your father’s mansion was exotic, but this sprawling palace is breathtaking.”

  “Where the King has everything he could ever desire,” Rachel whispered.

  “We have to see the guardsmen first,” Ike said. “They will take us to the king.”

  Edna plucked at her gloves. “We will see His Majesty, or we’ll be turned away to face whatever plan comes next.”

  “Why should they admit us?” Rachel asked as they followed Ike along the cobblestone path that wound around the fence.

  “Just because we know information about how evil the hags are doesn’t mean we’re considered trustworthy,” Edna said, “and Rachel’s the only one of us with a title and she’s only eighteen.” They passed groups of people ogling the palace from the sidewalk.

  A man in a top hat told a little boy, “The King has the entire top floor all to himself.”

  “How does the King have so much space just for himself?”

  Two guards in velvet livery stood at the locked entrance.

  “Why are there only two men? Couldn’t someone assassinate the King?” Edna wondered aloud, and winced, realizing her question could be viewed as treason.

  “The King has a head security hag,” Ike whispered. “Unless invited inside, no one can pass the invisible magical barrier.”

  Neither of the guards looked at the group until Ike coughed.

  “We’re here to see King Elias,” Ike announced. “We have important business.”

  The taller of the guardsmen laughed so hard his black mustache twitched. “Move along, lad.”

  “I’m serious.” Ike stared the guard in the eye. They were of the same height, although the man was thicker in build.

  His mirth faded. “Only those with appointments see the King.”

  “Appointments and prestige,” the other guard sneered.

  Edna squeezed Harrison’s hand. They had to make the King listen to their plight. The hags couldn’t continue making coglings.

  “He’ll want to see me if you tell him who I am,” Ike said.

  The second guard snorted. “And who are you, lad? The King’s been busy these past few days and not seeing anyone. Not likely he’ll make an exception for you.”

  “I’m sure he will.” Ike narrowed his eyes. “Tell him his son is here to visit.�
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  I never have before.

  ke was the King’s son. He’d kept that from her, never trusting her with such a powerful truth.

  “Feigning a relationship to the King is treachery,” Rachel hissed. “We’ll be thrown in the dungeon.”

  Edna glanced at the others; Harrison kicked at the ground and Rachel’s left eye twitched. Rachel thought Ike was joshing? He might have been a honed liar, but his demeanor belied the words.

  The tall guardsmen laughed, but Ike didn’t shrink away. Rachel groaned.

  “Ask one of your superiors.” Ike’s voice adopted a stiff, formal air. “They will confirm my claim.”

  The first guardsman kept laughing, but the other headed to the gatehouse, snickering. Over his shoulder, he called, “‘Tis treason to make a claim like that.”

  Edna hugged herself, shivering as her skin crawled. The country didn’t boast of Ike—he had to be a secret son.

  The second guard returned with an older man, wearing the same uniform. When they reached them, the older man bowed to Ike. “Isaac Eliasson,” he said, “I welcome you home. I will escort you to your father.”

  The first guard squawked, “He was telling the truth?”

  “What?” Rachel exclaimed.

  Ike pressed his lips into a thin white line, his gaze cold.

  The elder glared at the guard. “Open the gates for Isaac Eliasson.”

  Edna clutched her prayer beads.

  “Did you spell him?” Rachel hissed in Ike’s ear. “That would be worse than pretending to be the King’s son.”

  “My companions as well,” Ike said without looking at her or Edna.

  “Of course.” The elderly guard bowed once more and flipped a lever on the fence. The gates swung open. People huddled in the street to watch, whispering and pointing, their voices a low murmur.

  The elderly guard led them down a wide road of cobblestones lined with potted plants. Behind them the gate shut with a clunk. Ice crept over Edna’s body as fate sealed them inside.

  She wondered if Harrison would say anything, but he kept quiet, walking at her side, his wide eyes scanning the lawns. Robotic gardeners trimmed flowering bushes around a cherub fountain. Chickadees sang from magnolia trees. The peacefulness weighed against her heart like lead. Despite the beauty, she and her companions stepped into a prison, following Ike to a chopping block.