Path of Night

by Sarah Rees Brennan

  I remembered the Lady’s words about illusions. All the demons we’d seen, taking the shapes of our fears and doubts and desires. Seeing Nick was intended to make me stay underwater and fail my quest.

  But there was reality in every illusion.

  I paused, lost in uncertainty, and my eyes found Harvey’s.

  Harvey nodded slowly. “I don’t know if he was real. But I saw him too.”

  I said, “I believe.”

  We made our way through the woods. The trees I’d seen topple were standing again. The sun lit a quiet path for us under the leaves.

  “Quick question,” said Harvey. “Why was he shirtless? Do they require you to be shirtless in hell?”

  I blinked. “I don’t know. I didn’t really notice. I’ve seen Nick shirtless a lot, what with the—”

  “Cool, we know!” exclaimed Harvey, before I could say “moon festivals and fighting giant squids.” Harvey was shaking his head. “When we go to hell,” he muttered, “I will keep my shirt on.”

  Roz slid her arm around his waist. “About hell. Maybe we won’t have to go yet. Maybe it will take a while.”

  I opened my mouth to correct her.

  Theo jumped in. “That’s true. We can chill.”

  Harvey flashed Theo a grin. “Start our band.”

  My friends were flushed with victory, in the light. But Nick was trapped in darkness. I must go to him. The sooner the better, and the Lady had promised the way to hell would open soon.

  I closed my mouth. It wouldn’t do Nick any harm to let them enjoy this moment of peace.

  Roz’s eyes were on me, searching, until Harvey said: “Rosalind?”

  She swallowed. “Harvey. I’ve been thinking, I want to see …”

  I saw Harvey tense and wasn’t sure why.

  “Can I,” Harvey said, a pleading note in his voice, “try this first?”

  Surely Roz couldn’t say no to him when he asked like that. It would be impossible.

  She waited. Harvey looked desperately around at the trees, and our expectant faces.

  “Less scary than demons covered in eyes,” he muttered. “Slightly. Rosalind, this one’s for you.”

  He swallowed, setting his shoulders, the way he had when he first walked into the mines where demons lurked with me. Being the bravest.

  Then he tipped back his head and started to sing. He kept his eyes on the sky, faltering a few times, but his song grew clearer and more confident. His voice went up through the leaves as the light filtered down, and everything in the springtime started to be gold.

  Roz was smiling, her eyes on his face. I sped up, walking ahead, but I could still hear them.

  “You’re my love song, Roz,” Harvey murmured. “I—I’m sure you are. I needed time, to learn how to sing you.”

  “I want to see you every day,” Roz burst out.

  Harvey sounded surprised by his own happiness, the way he used to on the phone with me. “Yeah? I think that can be arranged.”

  They both sounded full of joy, my dearest friends. They made each other so happy. I was glad for them.

  Theo fell into step with me, shaking his head. “Serenades. Harv is the greatest sap this world has ever known. Back to an earlier topic!”

  I blinked. “Hell?”

  “Nick Scratch shirtless,” said Theo. “Can this be described in detail? By the way, I’m into guys.”

  “Cool, I love you! But are you trying to say you think my boyfriend is hot?”

  Theo blinked. “Well …”

  I laughed. “It’s okay. My boyfriend is hot.”

  And I was getting him back. Nick and I would be walking together through these woods, soon.

  “Just wanted to let you know,” said Theo. “Looking out for a hot boyfriend. Of my own, not yours.”

  “Maybe one of the guys from Riverdale?” I asked. “Word is, Riverdale boys are babes.”

  Roz and Harvey drew level with us among the trees, Harvey’s arm still around Roz’s shoulders.

  Roz warned, “Riverdale boys are trouble. It’s well known.”

  We discussed the issue of Theo’s prospective boyfriend. Then we debated potential names for a band. Theo beat time against several tree trunks, and Harvey twirled Roz over the grass. Together we reached the curve in the road and followed the path to my house.

  As soon as we opened the door, Aunt Hilda pounced.

  “Did you fall in a river? Did a kelpie try to abduct you as his bride?”

  Theo boggled. “Does that happen?”

  The Academy students, watching from the stairs as though we were free entertainment, nodded.

  “Constantly,” Aunt Hilda said. “Oh, you’ll catch your deaths!”

  I was bundled up in Harvey’s dry jacket. Aunt Hilda stripped Harvey’s wet shirt off his body, leaving him dazed and shirtless in our hall.

  Elspeth sat down with a thump on the steps, whispering: “I want to do the will of heaven.”

  “Could I get a towel,” Harvey said in a small voice. “Melvin?”

  “I’ll kill you, Melvin.” Elspeth didn’t take her eyes off Harvey. “I’ll kill you while you sleep. I’ll kill you tonight.”

  Harvey shot Roz a frantic glance, but Roz was stifling her laughter. Theo wasn’t trying to hide his laughter at all.

  Materializing from above, a towel came fluttering down. Harvey snatched at it.

  “Thanks, ghost children,” Harvey called out. “You guys are the only ones I can rely on.”

  Quentin and Lavinia shimmered into existence only to look smug. Aunt Zelda emerged from her office to see the hall crowded with ghosts, witch students, and mortals.

  She gave a vexed sigh, then noted Harvey was wearing a towel.

  “Congratulations, Harvey,” said Aunt Zelda, while Harvey made a faint traumatized noise at the back of his throat. “Wouldn’t have thought it of you. Not a patch on Nicholas Scratch, of course. Hells below, that young man was strapping. Sorry to remind you of lost glories, Sabrina.”

  “That’s okay,” I said.

  “I’d like to go home,” Harvey murmured, clutching his towel.

  “Do so!” said Aunt Zelda. “I’m thinking of throwing every soul in this house out of doors and praying to any dark goddess who will heed that they perish in the woods. That means you too, Hilda and Sabrina!”

  Aunt Hilda blew Aunt Zelda a kiss.

  Harvey stared at the floor. “Yeah, I’m going.”

  “Aunt Zelda didn’t mean that,” I said as we trooped onto the porch away from Aunt Zelda’s wrath. “You’re always welcome.”

  “Thanks for saying so, ’Brina,” mumbled Harvey. I got the feeling he wouldn’t be dropping by my house anytime soon.

  Aunt Hilda gave Harvey back his shirt, magically dry and pressed.

  “Thanks.” Harvey gave her a shy kiss on the cheek. Aunt Hilda beamed.

  “Anytime, my love. Sorry about Zelda. We know how she is. I could write a book.”

  “Lady Blackwood’s patience is wearing thinner than a skeleton,” observed Quentin. “We ghosts have decided to return to the Academy and await the return of the living.”

  “Lady Blackwood’s going to toss us out soon,” Melvin agreed ruefully. “Hope we can get a few more dinners in.”

  The Academy students looked depressed at the idea of being without Aunt Hilda’s cooking. The ghost children seemed sad too.

  Harvey’s gaze went to Lavinia. Suspicion and doubt crossed his face. I knew he was remembering the Lady indicating she’d used the ghost to spy on him.

  I remembered the Lady saying, It never is all lies.

  Harvey crossed the porch and knelt.

  “Bye, my small sweetheart,” he murmured.

  Lavinia reached out to touch his cheek. “It was nice to be warm for a little while.”

  Even as she spoke, her hand faded and her voice became a sigh. The dead vanished away and left Harvey kneeling alone.

  “She liked the Spellman house a lot, I guess,” said Harvey wistfully. �
�I wish she could’ve stayed.”

  I moved forward, but Roz was closer. Harvey took her offered hand with gratitude. They went down my porch steps together.

  “Goodbye, beautiful mortal,” called Elspeth.

  “Super inappropriate to the end, Elspeth,” muttered Harvey. Louder, he called: “See you tomorrow, ’Brina!”

  Roz looked back and waved. Theo and I fist-bumped over completing our quest, then Theo charged down the steps after them, yelling: “No romance. This means you, Harv!”

  I stood on the porch of my witches’ house, watching my friends walk into the woods. Trailing behind them, distant and sweet, came the sound of Harvey singing a new song.

  “Coming inside, my love?” asked Aunt Hilda.

  I was exhausted and chilled, but I tried to smile for her. “Just a minute.”

  A breath of winter lingered in the wind. I shivered and watched a single fleck of silver race to me across the sky. It was the last of the Lady’s birds, the one with blue human eyes. The bird flew right into my waiting hands.

  “Consider me a gift.”

  “For my cousin.” I kissed the tiny bright bird, opened the cage of my fingers, and let the winged thing go free into the bright new sky.

  Just in case. I wanted to make sure everybody I loved was safe. If Nick was the man I believed he was, he would understand.

  I only hoped I hadn’t ruined anything by turning back to look at Nick.

  Some might face their imminent death in a spirit of solemn reflection. Prudence and Ambrose were making fun of everyone they knew.

  Prudence leaned across the shadows and broken bones of the pit toward Ambrose, murmuring in a high voice: “ ‘Precious flower, I would reduce Greendale to rubble to make you smile.’ ”

  “ ‘Don’t do that, Sabrina, it would be … wrong,’ ” mumbled Ambrose. “ ‘Let’s keep everything low-key and mind-numbing, right up until I snap and start shooting family members.’ ”

  “ ‘Oh, Harvey,’ ” sighed Prudence. “ ‘I adore your witch-hunter ways. Ruin and devastation are among my top ten turn-ons!’ ”

  “You must remember.” Ambrose broke character. “I love Sabrina, so I don’t want to be too mean about her. Everyone else is fair game. Maybe I should be Sabrina from now on.”

  “Fine. I won’t be that mortal, though. I’ll be Nick. ‘Hey, girl, I’m some sugar from your daddy.’ ”

  Ambrose threw back his head and laughed. “ ‘Hello, Nicholas Scratch, you seem trustworthy. Would you be interested in giving up carnal joys with a variety of hot magical entities in exchange for milkshakes and hand-holding?’ ”

  “ ‘Definitely,’ ” said Prudence, pitching her voice deep and low. “ ‘Reading has turned my brain to treacle.’ ”

  “ ‘Fascinating, tell me about books but keep your shirt on, because why double our fun when we should always single our fun!’ ” said Ambrose. “ ‘Would you like to hear me speak about my favorite topic? His name is Harvey.’ ”

  “ ‘I don’t know who that is, but I would die for him!’ ” declared Prudence. “ ‘Because you asked me to, and I have a crush for the first time and it turned me feral.’ ”

  Prudence cackled. Ambrose wondered if she was bravely hiding pain at the thought of Nick preferring another woman.

  “Let’s do my aunties,” he suggested. “You be the bad one; I’ll be the good one.”

  Prudence considered. “I’m not sure I can do Hilda.”

  “You think Auntie Hilda is the bad one?”

  “The infidel who conspired to get a helpless baby baptized?” said Prudence. “Obviously!”

  There was a pause.

  “We have a fundamental disagreement on this topic.”

  Prudence shrugged. “Very well. You be Harvey; I’ll be Nick.”

  “Yes, comedy gold!” Ambrose bit his lip. “Wait. Does it help you? To talk about Nick? Considering your feelings for him.”

  “My feelings for Nick? Oh, yes.”

  “You must think about him a lot.”

  “I think he was better than average in bed,” conceded Prudence.

  “That’s—touching?” said Ambrose.

  “I don’t really think about people,” Prudence told him.

  Ambrose hesitated. “Did you ever think about me?”

  He heard the bed of bones crack beneath Prudence as she shifted.

  “Why would I?”

  “I’m sure you didn’t, much,” said Ambrose. “But when Father Blackwood had me in the dungeon, you told me … that I lived with honor.”

  “I also said that you would die with it. Which you soon will. In a pit full of ancient French skeletons.”

  “Prudence, you are hilarious and brilliant and beautiful, but you always focus on the negative.” Ambrose shook his head. “I hadn’t known that you thought about how I lived. Or what honor meant to you.”

  “Honor’s something you have,” Prudence snapped. “And I don’t.”

  That took a moment to sink in. Ambrose tried to make out her expression in the gray dimness of the pit.

  “We both made mistakes when we let Father Blackwood lead us down his vision of the ideal Path of Night.”

  “Ambrose, you attended a couple of noxious meetings and spoke sharply to Sabrina. I helped torture you at my father’s bidding.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I told my father to execute you,” burst out Prudence. “I said that was the way to control Sabrina. Because Sabrina loved you, and would fight for you. I used the love between you for my father’s evil ends.”

  The sound of her breathing was erratic, the only disturbance in the dusty air.

  Ambrose said: “I thought something like that must have happened. Father Blackwood doesn’t understand enough about love to know it would work. But you do.”

  She lifted her eyes to the circle of paler darkness high above. “I’m a terrible person.”

  “Yes, probably,” admitted Ambrose. “Me too. We worship Satan and ruin lives. What’s the big deal?”

  “You wouldn’t have done what I did.”

  “I tried to blow up the Vatican to make my father proud,” said Ambrose. “Long after he was dead. Your father’s still alive, but you already broke away from him and made a path for yourself. You’re doing great.”

  “Does it hurt less,” Prudence asked in a distant voice, “once your father is dead?”

  Ambrose didn’t want to mislead Prudence. “It hurts differently, but you’re free. Even if that takes a while to realize.”

  She was silent. Usually when Prudence disagreed with him, she let him know. Ambrose felt encouraged.

  “We’re all villains, my magnificently wicked witch. But we’re not under orders anymore. We’re not bearing the weight of our fathers’ expectations. We’re free to see what else we can be.”

  Just then, there was light.

  Soft as dawn and strange as love, at the mouth of the pit, in flew a bird. The winged thing shone as though it was plated with silver. Prudence shied back, and Ambrose stood with his hands open in welcome.

  The strange silver creature settled in the hollow of his palm. With the bird’s light in his hand, Ambrose was able to see an arrow marking carved on a skull.

  “From my cousin,” said Ambrose, and kissed the bird.

  “What’s Sabrina been up to,” Prudence mused.

  Ambrose beamed proudly. “Something terrible, no doubt.”

  “Here we are in a pit, and light comes to you.” Prudence rolled her eyes. “That’s you.”

  Light dawned on Ambrose, somewhat late, but beautiful. He remembered Prudence talking to the seller of dreams.

  Someone on the Path of Night, walking in so much light.

  “Oh, it’s not Nick Scratch, is it?”

  “Yes, it is!” Prudence snapped. “I—uh—love him!”

  “It’s me,” Ambrose said, softly. “I had no idea.”

  By the silvery light Ambrose could see Prudence’s horror, even as she snarled: “It d
oesn’t matter.”

  “What if it did?”

  “I am on a mission of vengeance. Cease harassing me about absurd emotions.”

  Prudence punched the skull with the arrow marking. The skull exploded into dust beneath the force of her blow. With a groan of bone on stone, a narrow passageway opened.

  Ambrose believed it would’ve sufficed if Prudence had gently pushed the skull, but Prudence seemed in no mood for quibbling.

  Ambrose almost reeled in the fresh air as they emerged from the empire of the dead. They were free once more, under the purple evening sky of Paris.

  “What about Nick?” he asked, as they traveled down the Champs-Élysées.

  Prudence made an irritated sound. “Why must you harp on Nick? Are you in love with him?”

  “Pass,” said Ambrose. “But you talked about someone who nobly sacrificed himself.”

  “Look.” Prudence sounded exasperated. “Nicky was bright, aside from ditching me and my sisters. He was a solid eight out of ten in bed, and seven out of ten for looks—”

  “I would’ve said eight for looks,” objected Ambrose.

  “His hair went wrong sometimes,” Prudence explained. “He was the only man at the Academy I would partner in fencing class. I’m … not glad he is in hell.”

  Ambrose understood. “He was your friend.”

  Prudence made an embarrassed face. “But he didn’t sacrifice himself for the world. He did it to atone for deceiving the girl he wanted. My tolerance for men who betray women is limited. Nick can’t be compared with you. Father Blackwood can’t be compared with you. Luke Chalmers can’t be compared with you.”

  “Luke Chalfant,” Ambrose murmured.

  Prudence waved a hand irritably. “Whatever his name was. Nicholas Scratch can’t be compared with you. No other warlock compares. We tortured you at the Academy. You escaped, then saw the witch-hunters coming. You had nothing to gain, and everything to lose. You warned us anyway.”

  “I had to,” Ambrose murmured.

  He couldn’t let witches die like his father and Luke had.

  Prudence’s lips curved. After a day in the catacombs, her lipstick wasn’t perfect, but her mouth was.

  “I’d never met an honorable man before. The novelty attracted my attention. So I let you accompany me on my mission, I let you distract me with your antics, and I let myself believe foolish things. None of it matters. What matters is my sister and brother, and my revenge.”