Path of Night

by Sarah Rees Brennan

  “Games, sure.” Nick nodded. “Like seven minutes in hell?”

  “What’s that?”

  “You fit as many people in a closet—or a crypt—as you can, and for seven minutes—”

  “Dude!” said Harvey in a panic. “Please stop talking!”

  Nick regarded Harvey with an offended air, as if it was Harvey’s fault witches were so alarming.

  “Wow,” said Harvey. “No. We play Dungeons & Dragons.”

  “You play with dragons?”

  “I don’t …”

  “You must not do that.”

  “They’re pretend dragons,” Harvey said desperately. “And there’s, like, a Dungeon Master.”

  Nick did something upsetting with his eyebrows. “Who is the Dungeon Master?”

  “Well …” said Harvey. “I am.”

  Honestly, it was tough convincing the others to play at all.

  “Oh, this is appropriate to talk about in public,” Nick muttered darkly. “Mortals make no sense.”

  Suits were uncomfortable, so was this situation, and Harvey’s tie was coming undone. Natalie hovered on the edge of his peripheral vision. Harvey glared. Nick batted at a red paper streamer as though it was a cat toy.

  “Hey, you’re not meant to touch the decorations.”

  “Oh?”

  Nick’s attitude remained nonchalant, but Harvey would’ve felt bad if he’d been somewhere unfamiliar, doing the wrong thing.

  “It’s fine,” Harvey said gently. “You didn’t know. Listen, I was thinking”—Nick arched a skeptical eyebrow, which Harvey ignored—“Roz and Sabrina are friends. ’Brina and I are friends. We don’t have much in common, but we can put up with each other, right?”

  He saw Nick’s face change. Subtly, but enough that Harvey knew Sabrina had walked in.

  He couldn’t look. He’d caught a few glimpses out of the corner of his eye. She was wearing a bright red dress—how much had Harvey been holding her back—and she and Nick both really knew how to dance. It was all unbearable.

  Harvey could look at Roz. She was always lovely, but it was different tonight, when perhaps some part of her golden loveliness was meant for him.

  Roz was already looking at him. He shot her a shy, delighted smile.

  Then he realized Nick Scratch was giving him the evil eye. The evil eye from a warlock was dreadful.

  “I don’t foresee us ever getting along, Harry,” drawled Nick.

  “That’s not my name!”

  Nick made a mock-surprised face. “Sorry, farm boy. Guess I forgot. Doubt it’ll matter. Sabrina and I are walking the Path of Night. You’ll be left far behind. See you. Or not.”

  “The path of what?”

  Nick was already arrowing toward Sabrina.

  Did witches have any non-ominous names for stuff, or was it all Path of Night, Curtains of Disquiet, Toilet Bowl of Eldritch Horror? Also, Nick Scratch was a jackass.

  He called Harvey Harry several times. Harvey was almost a hundred percent sure Nick was doing it on purpose. Nick disliked Harvey as most cool guys did, but with an additional mean edge. Because Nick Scratch was a horrible person. Harvey could hate Nick as much as he wanted.

  Then Nick Scratch turned out to be a hero.

  Harvey sighed, laying his coffee cup down on a stack of paper. Then he lifted the cup. Sabrina’s aunt Zelda read newspapers in fifteen different languages. Zelda was a scary person, but she was smart and awesome.

  It was nice in Sabrina’s house.

  If he’d left a coffee ring on one of Zelda’s newspapers, however, he was fleeing the country.

  The stack wasn’t newspapers.

  Harvey glanced at the top page.

  The buxom witch leaned into her saucy demonic lover’s embrace. “I should return to my unfeeling and ungrateful sister’s side, but I crave your touch.”

  “I must have you!” declared the passionate incubus, cleaving her luxurious curves to his body. She felt his heart—among other things—pounding. “My manly fires cannot be denied!”

  She flung back her head. He strained against his chains that they might be more fully one, united by the pure light of love and the urgent crimson cloud of lust that none, magical or infernal, can withstand …

  “Holy God,” Harvey whispered.

  “My love, the Academy students are sensitive about your language,” said Hilda Spellman from the doorway.

  “Sorry, Miz Spellman.”

  Her sky-blue eyes were fixed on the papers.

  “Sweet Harvey, did you read any of that?”

  Harvey coughed so hard he felt he might be strangling. Hilda walked over and noted the page he’d read. “Not sure that’s my best work.”

  “Oh! You wrote this?”

  Hilda made a dismissive gesture that ended in hand-wringing.

  “Wow,” said Harvey. “You must be really clever. I mean—I knew that, but I’ve never met a proper author before.”

  Hilda’s hand performed a circle, then patted her hair. “Thanks, my love. With the Academy fuss, Zelda’s awful husband, and poor Nick, I wanted to write about happiness and love. This hasn’t been printed yet. Could you be a darling and keep it hush-hush? I don’t want Zelda stifling my creative expression.”

  “’Course.” Harvey grinned.

  “It’s our secret.” She held a finger to her lips. He had a secret with Sabrina’s aunt Hilda. And such a cool secret.

  Harvey risked another look at the pages. He’d gotten a shock at first—but the story was about joy and love. Hilda was the kindest, wisest woman he knew. He didn’t want to ask awful Melvin questions. Perhaps he could ask her.

  “Miz Spellman,” Harvey began. “You’ve always been so nice to me …”

  “Well, Harvey, I love you,” said Hilda. “You know that.”

  Harvey went still. “I, uh. I didn’t, I—”

  He sounded every bit the dumb kid he felt. She must mean it like saying you loved dessert. That was already so nice. She didn’t have to mean it.

  Hilda slid her arms around his neck, resting her chin on top of his head. “I love you. I never intended to. I loved Diana, you see. Sabrina’s mother was wonderful—”

  Harvey thought of Sabrina. “She must have been.”

  “When she died, I told myself … loving mortals hurts too much. Many witches do. But you followed Sabrina home, and oh, your eyes. Like a ghost child’s who died starving. Still, you poured love on her. There are people who can only give the love they get, but others invent love from first principles. No matter what cruelty they breathe in, they breathe out love. They walk in love, every day of their lives.”

  “Like you.” Harvey fought self-consciousness, desperate to get it out. “I—I love you too.”

  He felt Hilda’s smile pressed against the top of his head. The most kindhearted woman in Greendale—probably the world. And she loved him.

  “So I loved you. Now I love Dr. C. I’m not a proper kind of witch at all.”

  “You’re the best kind of witch.”

  Hilda hummed. “I wanted Sabrina to always have—what I saw when she brought you home that first day. And I didn’t trust Nick Scratch. Our Dark Lord is the Prince of Lies. Witches’ tongues wrap around deceit as easy as enchantment. I thought she’d be fooled. I was frightened for her, and I failed to see he was just a boy. He loved her the best way he knew how. I wish I’d been kinder now.”

  “Me too,” mumbled Harvey. “I never liked him. I didn’t even try.” Hilda sank into the chair beside him. Harvey reached out and squeezed her hand. He wished he could tell Hilda, We’re going to get him back.

  Hilda would be glad.

  “Do you know what the name ‘Hilda’ means?” she asked. “Battle. And do you know what the name ‘Harvey’ means?”

  Harvey shook his head.

  “Battle ready. We’re both fighters in our own way, my love. We’ll get through these dark times. Want to stay for lunch?”

  “Oh, no! But thanks.” He stood, then stooped and
gave Hilda a kiss on the cheek. Thanks for loving me.

  He walked out of the Spellman house, taking the steps two at a time.

  “She loves me,” he murmured. He slung his gun over his shoulder, lifting his face to the spring sunlight and smiling.

  He’d always loved five people: Tommy, Sabrina, Roz, Theo, and his dad. Now it was six. Maybe someday, he’d have too many people to count on both hands.

  He sang quietly, practicing for Roz. A couple demons came at him, so he shot them. The singing wavered when he imagined Roz listening.

  Billy Marlin’s truck rolled up right after he shot a demon.

  “Dude, are you shooting up the woods?”

  “No offense, Billy …” said Harvey. “I hate you. Get lost.”

  “Why are you people like this?” Billy drove off.

  Theo could do better, Harvey reflected as he entered the woods.

  Why were people such fakes? Melvin, deceiving girls. His dad and Billy, pretending to be tough. Also, Satan.

  Harvey understood why Sabrina had put on a masquerade to trap Lucifer. The guy shone the way Sabrina did, but there was nothing behind it. Whatever fires had burned in him, they were ashes now. Satan was ultimate evil and all, but he was so fake.

  Nick Scratch had struck Harvey as fake too, but he’d gotten Nick wrong. Nick had been real when he said, I love you, Spellman. You taught me how to love, and sacrificed himself.

  That was super romantic. Harvey wasn’t sure why Nick called Sabrina by her surname, but he assumed for cool witch reasons. Nick and Sabrina were a cool witch couple who did cool witch things and had an epic love. Probably Nick didn’t mind not hearing I love you back. He must’ve heard it frequently.

  The first time Harvey could remember saying I love you to anyone was Sabrina, right before Halloween. He’d practiced before, but like singing, on your own didn’t count. He didn’t know what he would have done if she hadn’t said it back.

  When Tommy died, Harvey couldn’t remember if he’d ever said he loved him. They’d said fake guy stuff instead of important things. Harvey wished he could tell Roz, Sabrina, and Theo every day.

  He couldn’t tell Sabrina, because he used to mean it one way and had to mean it another way now. Sabrina’d never really loved Harvey. He’d been training wheels.

  Harvey worried, while distracted by demons, that Roz might find an awful boyfriend too.

  Then he recalled he was Roz’s boyfriend, and smiled.

  Unless Roz dumped him. She kept saying, I want to see …

  What else could she mean? I want to see other people. I was confused like Sabrina.

  She’d asked him to sing to her. He should be able to. No wonder Roz wanted to break up.

  Maybe Roz had only liked him when she was sick, and Sabrina was at witch school. Harvey’d been lonely then too.

  He’d understood Sabrina not wanting him now that she had someone better, but he couldn’t understand her abandoning Roz and Theo. They were irreplaceable. He got mad every time he thought about it. When Sabrina returned, he got mad at her.

  Then Sabrina helped Roz when Harvey couldn’t. They were the Fright Club now and could help people as a team. If Harvey didn’t mess up.

  When the demons landed on the road, it sounded like a thousand falling grapes. The jelly-like substance of their eyes wobbled. When they landed on him, he felt the gelatinous coating as their many eyeballs slid against his skin. That was worse than teeth. He rolled into the undergrowth, hurling a demon into a tree.

  Harvey shot his rifle and plunged through the woods with the viscous shreds of demons squishing beneath his boots. He wished Roz wanted him to kill demons for her. It seemed easier than performing in public.

  The Lady of the Lake called him a knight. He was coming around to the idea. Knights bravely fought evil. Being a knight would make sense of the desperate urge in his chest to help Sabrina. She’d be his queen, Roz his lady love, Theo his comrade in arms, and he’d be loyal to them all.

  What would Nick Scratch be, once they got him back? Harvey made a face. Not a king.

  “Hello, beautiful mortal.” Elspeth appeared from behind a tree.

  “Please don’t jump out at me, okay? I have … worryingly good reflexes.”

  Harvey put a protective arm around Elspeth’s shoulders.

  “I had a dream about you last night. We were dancing. You’ll never guess where your hands were.” Elspeth paused. “On my waist. Because you respected me!”

  “That’s where they would be,” Harvey said absently.

  Elspeth sighed. “Sometimes I worry I’m a dreadful deviant.”

  Harvey wasn’t really listening. “There’s a word for being with a queen, but not a king, right? Prince con … something.”

  “Prince concubine?”

  “Not that.” Harvey researched on his phone. “Prince consort!”

  He also looked up Lancelot, who was supposed to be a good knight. When he read the things Lancelot got up to with his queen, Harvey put his phone away.

  Forget being knights. They could be a superhero team.

  “Hey, I don’t think Melvin respects you.”

  “I don’t respect him either,” Elspeth said brightly. “Ungracious Satan, I don’t care. Witches don’t care about much. That’s the witch way.”

  It wasn’t Sabrina’s way. Sabrina helped people.

  When witch-hunters came for the witches, Sabrina went to rescue the others alone and got hurt. Harvey helped untie the witches and carried Sabrina out, but he couldn’t do much.

  Sabrina was the hero who saved everybody.

  “People have to help one another. Or nobody gets saved. Could I get some magic help?”

  The many-eyed demons were creeping close. They seemed to be in a forest of eyes.

  Elspeth surveyed the demons. “Sorry, no.” She teleported away.

  Elspeth wasn’t going to be his friend, then. Harvey sighed. He’d got things wrong again.

  Harvey was alone in the woods, and scared. Roz and Theo had been alone too. Thank God they were out of danger. Thank God it was him.

  Nick was alone in hell. Sabrina was a savior, and she was in love with Nick. She wanted to save him more than anything.

  Harvey sometimes thought about asking Sabrina, so she’d tell him she loved Nick. That would—feel like the end, of everything that was already over.

  There were more eyes in the dark than stars. Harvey had to reload, and he knew it would take too long.

  A demon knocked him down. Claws raked his face, blood in his eyes.

  “Venturis ventis!” shouted a girl.

  Harvey’s hair was blasted back by wind that sent the demons scattering. He turned in amazement to see Agatha, black hair streaming like a mourning flag. A demon launched itself at Agatha, so Harvey spun her out of danger.

  He set Agatha down, reloaded, and fired. Together, they beat the demons back.

  Harvey wiped his forehead with his sleeve and panted, “Why’d you do that?”

  Agatha fixed him with a cold stare. “Why did you run to save us from witch-hunters?”

  “I … couldn’t do anything else.”

  “I was sure you were a threat,” she murmured. “You and your family. It doesn’t matter. You don’t matter. But I was so sure.”

  “We’re even now.”

  A smile touched Agatha’s mouth. “I don’t think so.”

  That was fair. She’d helped him more than he’d helped her. But maybe they could keep helping each other.

  “I’d kill anyone who hurt my sisters,” Agatha added.

  Another witch who cared about people. Harvey smiled back, with sudden hope.

  “Don’t even look at me,” sneered Agatha. “Are you close to home?”

  Not a friend, then.

  “Yeah. You can go.”

  She vanished in a sigh of wind. The claw marks on Harvey’s face ached. Blood and the wind made his eyes sting. He went home to get more ammo.

  His dad came in as Harvey was washin
g his face. Harvey started, hitting his head on the tap.

  He didn’t think his dad would hit him again, but once you got hurt enough, it was hard to remember feeling safe.

  Sometimes Harvey imagined feeling safer at home than anywhere else. One day, someone might welcome Harvey home. Sabrina, he used to dream, but now he focused his mind on Roz’s face.

  “This is all you get, forever,” whispered the bird.

  Theo had said the birds helped him. Theo was brave enough to make a friend of the truth, but not Harvey. The truth had hurt Harvey too much. The only thing worse were lies.

  “How was work, Dad?”

  “Fine. Wanna take on another shift?” His dad cleared his throat. “No pressure.”

  His dad remembered to say that, now that they got along better. Enjoy sports. Work in the mines that terrify you. Be someone different. No pressure. Harvey could feel the pressure crushing him, but his dad meant well.

  “Sure. Gotta go.”

  “You’re spending a lotta time away from home. You could … bring Roz here.”

  Harvey’d never been able to have his friends over, because Dad might be drunk. But his dad didn’t get drunk anymore. Last night, Harvey’d had a look around the garage.

  “Could I have my friends over for practice? We were thinking of starting a band.”

  His dad shrugged. Harvey was allowed to clean up the garage, then, for the band. He beamed.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Dad grunted. Dad got embarrassed whenever Harvey showed he was happy. “You’ll be … home more, then?”

  Harvey asked, shocked: “Do you want me to be?”

  “Kid, I don’t care.”

  Maybe Dad did, Harvey thought as he ran down the porch steps.

  It was okay Dad didn’t like Harvey. Ambrose didn’t like Harvey either, but Ambrose was never mean. His dad was letting him have the band.

  “It’s not you he wants,” the bird whispered.

  Harvey said: “I know.”

  Harvey understood his dad wished Harvey had died instead of Tommy. Harvey wished that too.

  He’d come home more, if Dad was lonely.

  He put on headphones as he plunged into the woods. Headphones were useful. He could tell when there was an actual threat, and if people at school were mean, he’d rather not hear.