Path of Night

by Sarah Rees Brennan

  “Pretty sure Aunt Hilda said ‘bonding,’ ” I muttered.

  Aunt Zelda waved this off with a regal air. “Either seems misguided. However, against my better judgment I came here to tell these unworthy mortals the story of the Lady of the Lake.”

  “We appreciate it, Lady Blackwood,” piped up Roz. “The Fright Club is very dedicated to our academic interest in legends that put women in the foreground.”

  Theo contributed: “Not a woman personally, but interested in women’s untold stories.”

  “Herstory as well as history,” Harvey murmured, with a covert glance Roz’s way to see if he’d gotten that right. She gave him a thumbs-up.

  Aunt Zelda moved in front of Ambrose’s British flag as though it were the backdrop to a play, and she the star of the show. She lifted her voice authoritatively. My aunt wasn’t overly fond of mortals, but she’d been mistress of the Infernal Choir at the Academy. Plus, she’d spent my whole life admonishing me and Ambrose. Lecturing was an area in which Aunt Zelda excelled.

  “I realize mortal children are ill-educated. Have you even heard of the Lady of the Lake?”

  “Arthurian legend,” said Roz.

  “Monty Python.” Harvey nodded.

  This caught Aunt Zelda’s attention. “Is Monty Python a warlock?”

  “Um,” said Harvey. “Could be.”

  “I know the Pythons,” said Aunt Zelda. “Good witch family. But I don’t think I know a Monty. How do you know him?”

  “Oh, like … around,” said Harvey.

  Theo intervened to rescue Harvey. “I don’t know anything about the Lady of the Lake!”

  Aunt Zelda went back into lecture mode. “The Lady is a minor goddess witches worshipped before they devoted themselves exclusively to the service of Satan. Our Lady was often approached by pilgrims who sought strength on a quest. The stories say the Lady’s hundred silver eyes are always watching. The Lady can see you. She will know if you are unworthy.”

  Aunt Zelda watched the effect of her creepy whisper on the mortals with satisfaction. Aunt Z enjoyed making an impression.

  I’d fought a river demon once, an incident I remembered with no fondness, but Aunt Zelda was talking about a goddess. Surely a goddess would be different. A goddess would help.

  “Any witch can summon the Lady, but every witch knows it is not safe. When the warlock Merlin summoned her, the Lady tested Merlin and his mortal companion Arthur, and did not find them wanting. She gifted Arthur with a magic sword, which Merlin and Arthur used to create a kingdom and change the world. The legend goes that any who quests for truth with a pure heart will obtain the Lady’s aid, but those whom she does not find worthy, she consumes.”

  A smile illuminated Aunt Zelda’s countenance. Theo appeared to be going cross-eyed.

  “It is almost April. We approach the celebration of your false god’s son.”

  Roz made a face of agonized protest.

  “Some witches believe this is a dangerous time for us, but I don’t think we should permit the mortals to take our feast days. The Lady is also called Eostre. Before this month was called April, it was Eostremonath, and it was dedicated to our Lady’s honor. We witches once chanted her names as we danced with bright swords and leaped toward the dawn. Eostre, Freyja, Kaguya, Austra, Lady of a Hundred Eyes, Shining Princess, Lady Star. She is the white maid of the water who cannot be fooled or denied. Carry tribute to the foot of her mountains. Her star-bright eyes will see what your soul is worth.”

  Aunt Zelda lowered her uplifted arms. The illumination in her face flickered as she recalled that she was addressing mortals she didn’t approve of.

  “Any questions?”

  I am the Dark Lord’s sword. I shuddered at the thought.

  “Does the Lady of the Lake always give you a sword?”

  “No, Sabrina. It should be perfectly clear the Lady gives supplicants what they most need to complete their quest. I understand she gifted one musician with the perfect song. She always knows what to give.”

  “She’s like a personal shopper for quests,” said Roz.

  “That’s a horrifying mortal way to sum up an ancient goddess,” said Aunt Zelda, “but … essentially, yes.”

  She gave Roz a nod of measured approval.

  “Do you feel edified, mortals?” Aunt Zelda consulted her embossed brass pocket watch. “I need time to fortify myself before I must deal with the students again. Collectively, I admire and respect all witches. Individually, I dream of strangling those noisy, shower-hogging wretches in their sleep.”

  Aunt Zelda never even wanted me to have my friends over. Having our entire surviving coven stay at our place was wearing on her nerves. Plus, there was the responsibility of being the coven’s new leader.

  Leadership was complicated. I remembered Lilith, the new Queen of Hell, with her crown of gold and bones shining against her dark hair. The red curve of her smile as she bore Nick alive into hell was a stain on the darkness behind my eyelids each night. I wondered if Lilith found ruling everything she desired.

  I didn’t trust Lilith, even if she had helped us against Lucifer, but I trusted Aunt Zelda. Besides, Aunt Zelda couldn’t be a worse leader than Father Blackwood.

  “Thanks, Aunt Z. We feel enlightened. Endarkened.”

  Aunt Zelda’s eyes searched my face. I knew the real reason she’d given this lecture. She worried for me too.

  “It was a great deal of trouble … but I don’t mind.” She gave my mortals a nod, then departed Ambrose’s attic with a click of heels shaped like silver serpents.

  I waited until the door closed. “Doesn’t that sound perfect? We summon the Lady, and she gives us what we need to rescue Nick! Think about Orpheus playing a song and being allowed into the underworld. He was given permission to take Eurydice, and if he hadn’t looked back, he would’ve rescued her. We could learn that song. Or we can storm the gates of hell with a magic sword. Whatever we need, the Lady will give us.”

  I gazed around, searching for excitement to answer my own, and was disappointed.

  “Wait, so Orpheus didn’t get Eurydice out?” Harvey asked.

  “Well … no.”

  Maybe Operation Eurydice wasn’t such a great name. I slumped onto the pile of cushions where my friends sat.

  “Okay,” said Harvey. “Good to know.”

  Roz blinked. “Ah, how is it good?”

  “Orpheus was alone,” said Harvey. “We’re with Sabrina. We’ll get it done together.”

  The four of us drew in close for a group hug. I hid my face in Harvey’s shoulder, as I did when I most needed strength. Then I straightened my spine and looked around.

  “So we’re agreed? I’ll find the summoning spell for the Lady of the Lake. Let’s set off on our quest tomorrow.”

  “Let’s do it,” said Harvey.

  Theo drew in a deep breath. “Better than mugging angels.”

  Roz was silent.

  I tried to be reassuring. “I can summon her, Roz. I can do it.”

  Roz gave me another sideways hug. “I believe in you. I was just wondering, not to be a killjoy, but … once we get Nick back from hell, what do we do about him being—er, possessed by Satan?”

  “We’ve discussed this, Roz,” said Theo. “We’re taking it one impossible problem at a time.”

  “I will find somebody else to pop Satan into, when the time comes!” I announced. “It will be fine.”

  Roz seemed unconvinced.

  “Maybe a politician?” Harvey suggested. “A bad one?”

  “Oh, good idea,” I said, impressed.

  “Harvey?” said Roz. “I think ‘kidnapping evil politicians’ should go on the list with ‘mugging angels.’ ”

  Theo laughed. Harvey and I exchanged rueful grins. I scrambled to my feet to pull down the whiteboard again and dole out library books I’d stolen from the Academy. By the time we discovered the chant to summon the Lady, the hour was growing late.

  Roz and Theo hurried home for dinner, but Harv
ey said his dad was working a shift in the mines. He bid Roz goodbye with a kiss, then returned to sit by me on the attic stairs. I memorized the spell for the Lady of the Lake. Harvey got out his sketchbook and drew a woman in white.

  I was absorbed until I felt tension creeping through Harvey’s frame. My head jerked up, and I scanned the passage, searching for the threat.

  The ghost children were a pallid cluster, with Quentin, the ghost boy I knew best, at their head. Harvey was staring at the dead children with wide, scared eyes.

  They were such a frequent presence at the Academy, I’d become used to them.

  “Hello, miss. Hello, sir.” Quentin was a formal child.

  I smiled. “Hello.”

  “Um,” said Harvey. “Hi.”

  The throng of ghosts drifted closer. A chill surrounded them, like winter fog.

  “Can we see your drawing?” whispered a girl with weeds in her hair.

  “Oh,” said Harvey hesitantly. “Sure.”

  He held up the sketchbook. The ghost children murmured admiringly. Harvey, brightening, showed them several more pictures. One was of me.

  “I should like to draw a portrait of Miss Sabrina,” said Quentin.

  Harvey dug a packet of fancy art crayons out of his pocket and offered them to Quentin. The ghost’s icy white hands passed through the crayons. Quentin seemed sorrowfully resigned.

  A line appeared between Harvey’s brows. “Wait.” He crushed a green crayon in his hand, then held out the smeared mess. “Try it now.”

  From Harvey’s hand, Quentin was able to pluck the ghost of a crayon. Quentin’s face suffused with faintly sparkling joy. Harvey began to methodically crush more crayons and pass them out to the ghosts.

  There was a shimmer at the back of the crowd. A final girl appeared.

  She was the ghost of a little girl no more than six. Black ringlets cascaded around her starving-thin, skull-white face. Her sunken eyes were pools of darkness, jet black from edge to edge. As she shuffled forward, I saw gray slime at the edge of her gown. She looked like a cross between the girl from the well in The Ring and a possessed porcelain doll.

  “Lavinia doesn’t talk much,” said Quentin.

  “Maybe she’s just shy.” Harvey held the last crushed crayon out to her. Lavinia crept toward the bright color and his kind smile. When she leaned against his knee, Harvey curved a hand over her curly hair. “Me too, sweetheart,” he murmured.

  Quentin coughed. “Miss?”

  I sidled over to him. Not much worried about a ghost—the worst had definitely already happened—but Quentin appeared concerned.

  “Lavinia does talk sometimes. When we try to rest in our graves, our peace is disturbed by her muttering ‘Kill, kill, kill.’ ”

  I turned back to Harvey in alarm. Lavinia the nightmare child was sketching—on the wall—a decapitated body floating in a red lake.

  “Sometimes drawing things helps get them out of your head, huh,” said Harvey sympathetically. “I draw demons sometimes. Wanna see me draw a demon?”

  Her ringlets moved in a tiny nod. It appeared Lavinia would.

  “Harvey, could I have a word?”

  “’Course, ’Brina.”

  He stood, and then glanced down in surprise. The ghost girl reached out a ghastly white hand, no bigger than a doll’s, and caught at his jeans.

  “Obey me, mortal.” Her voice rasped like a dry road and rattled like old bones. Her face rippled as though her skin was liquid, revealing long teeth.

  Harvey jerked back, then scrambled to keep from falling down the stairs. I called magic into the hollow of my palm.

  Harvey’s head turned. “’Brina, no!”

  I chose to hear ’Brina, maybe. I lowered my hand but kept my magic ready.

  Through her distorted maw came a little-girl whisper. “I scared you.”

  “You surprised me,” Harvey corrected her. “I’m—I’m not a coward. Did you not mean to be scary? Like Marrow. She’s a superhero. Marrow’s startling-looking, but she’s cool. It’s not cool to grab people, though.”

  The terrifying mask crumpled. “I want you to stay,” Lavinia the ghost whispered, plaintive.

  Harvey knelt. “Hey, I’ll be right back. Be a good girl. Wait for me.”

  He went to me, leaving her staring after him. It was difficult to tell with those chasm-black eyes, but I thought her gaze was wistful.

  I drew Harvey down our double staircase. “That Obey me, mortal thing was unsettling!”

  He shrugged. “Kids say weird stuff. My neighbor told me so.”

  Given half a chance, Harvey would always choose to care for people, to help and protect them. Harvey worried he was a coward, but I knew he was brave.

  If he’d found a way not to fear the ghosts, I was glad.

  “What did you want to talk about, ’Brina?”

  Another topic occurred to me. “This morning at breakfast, when we were talking about Nick …”

  Harvey went pale. “I don’t really wanna talk about it!”

  “You said he hates you. Harvey, why would you think that?”

  Harvey shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m not crazy about him either.”

  I stared in astonishment. “You don’t like Nick? I can’t imagine anyone not liking Nick! He’s amazing.”

  Harvey’s face worked through a series of twitches I couldn’t interpret.

  “Right,” he said eventually. “Well, he’s your boyfriend. Obviously, you like him.”

  “Everybody likes him! You like Nick, don’t you?”

  My gaze went to Agatha, trying to reach the kitchen door without us noticing. Her plan foiled, she glared at me. Agatha never made eye contact with Harvey. “A lot more than I like you, Sabrina.”

  The Academy students went by in a procession. Elspeth gave Harvey a little wave.

  “I like Nick,” she contributed. “Very sexy guy.”

  “An inspiration to us all,” Melvin agreed.

  “Fantastic,” said Harvey. “He’s witch prom king.”

  I studied Harvey with growing distress. I’d never considered this before, but Nick being so incredible might be intimidating.

  “Is this about him forgetting your name that time? I’m sorry, Harvey, but we had a lot on our minds. Nick knows a ton of people, he’s universally popular—”

  “Congratulations to Nick,” Harvey broke in. “For the record, it wasn’t just one time. He gets my name wrong on purpose, because he’s a jackass.”

  “Nick would never! He’s always nice.” I paused. “Well, he’s always nice to me.”

  “Is he?” Harvey’s voice was unusually sharp. “Is he that guy who’s only nice to the girl he’s into? Gotta love that guy.”

  It had never occurred to me that anyone as close to me as Harvey could see Nick so differently. If Harvey actually disliked Nick, did he want Nick back at all?

  I sat down hard on the bottom step of the stairs. My aunts were preoccupied. Ambrose was abroad. Nick was in hell. My mortal friends were the only support I had left.

  “Oh God.” Harvey knelt, taking my hands in his. “I’m sorry, ’Brina. I saw what Nick did. I know he’s a good guy.”

  “He’s the best,” I whispered.

  “It’s just … he talks to me as if I’m stupid.”

  “He doesn’t think you’re stupid,” I assured Harvey. “Once we get Nick back, you guys will be friends.”

  Harvey’s mouth twisted. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not my favorite person in the world, Sabrina, but I understand he’s yours.” Harvey gave our joined hands an encouraging shake, adding conspiratorially: “And we will get him back.”

  Now that I could be steady on my feet, I let Harvey pull me up. We walked into the kitchen to find Aunt Hilda spinning dramatically around.

  She said in a voice of thunder: “Someone’s been telling lies!”

  Harvey and I froze.

  Aunt Hilda’s face broke into a sunny smile. “It’s me! I said I was making shepherd’s pie, but I’ve ac
tually prepared something much more special. May I present … snakegazey pie!”

  Aunt Hilda laid down the delicacy on the table with an air of pride. The short crust was a rich golden brown, with twists forming a little pastry pentagram. At every point of the pentagram, there was an eruption. Snake heads poked out from their lake of golden pastry, beadlike eyes staring, forked tongues tasting the air. The Academy students oohed and aahed.

  “Might throw up,” Harvey murmured. “Gonna go talk to the kid.”

  To please Aunt Hilda, I accepted a portion of snakegazey pie and took the empty seat beside Agatha. There was often a vacant place beside Agatha or Dorcas, as if they were saving it for Prudence.

  Agatha’s voice was perfect for girlish whispers. “Why were you talking about Nick?”

  The Weird Sisters had liked Nick. They’d dated Nick. All three of them, at the same time.

  “Just saying how great Nick was.”

  I realized I’d talked about him in the past tense. As if Nick was dead.

  “He was better than great,” said Agatha. I started to smile. “Nick was the pride of the Academy. He would’ve been Top Boy, the leader of our whole school, if you hadn’t fouled that up. Then you got him expelled. For the grand finale, you did worse than kill him. Nick had a future bright as a morning star. Before you ruined his life.”

  I pushed my bowl of snakegazey pie away and stumbled upstairs toward the sound of Harvey’s voice. He was on the attic steps with the ghost child. I leaned against the wall and watched them.

  “Do you want to hear a story about a brave lady knight and a girl with dragons, sweetheart?”

  Lavinia said in a sepulchral whisper, “I would like a dragon.”

  “Who wouldn’t like to have a dragon!” said Harvey.

  Lavinia edged closer. “A dragon made of darkness!”

  Harvey mouthed, Kids. Weird stuff, over the ghost’s head at me.

  I smiled, because he was so cute. Then I straightened up.

  Harvey was objectively cute in the way penguins are cute. Not in any way that was specifically appealing to me. Only Nick was specifically appealing to me.

  I ran past Harvey and Lavinia to the attic, where I pulled the drawing of Nick off the whiteboard. I wanted him with me, any way he could be. Witches didn’t really take couple selfies. I didn’t have any pictures of him, except for this.