Witch & Wizard 04 - The Kiss

by James Patterson

  Janine’s crack of laughter is sharp and bright, and immediately puts me at ease.

  “Would you maybe want to get a bite with me?” I ask as we walk together off the field. “I thought we could go to that fancy new place downtown with the awesome view of the mountains.”

  “Whit Allgood, are you asking me on a date?” She arches an eyebrow.

  I grin sheepishly. As lame as it sounds, I’ve never actually asked a girl out. Celia was a cheerleader, and I was the foolball captain, so we first got together because that’s what everyone expected. With Janine, I have to work for it.

  “What if I am?”

  “Well, then I’m not sure,” she answers.

  “Since when is a ‘daughter of the Revolution’ ever not sure of anything?”

  Janine smirks. “I’m not sure I want trendy food that looks like whipped vomit and tastes like air. Let’s grab a burger instead!”

  “Deal.”

  We end up at a hole-in-the-wall grill that used to have the best burgers and wings in the City.

  “It feels exactly the same,” Janine marvels. It’s the only building left standing on the block, but inside it’s still cozy, with the same worn red furniture and loud decor on the walls.

  “Last time I was here, I didn’t know I was a wizard,” I say, remembering. “I didn’t even know the Resistance existed, and you were already running it.”

  We stuff our faces with greasy goodness, reminiscing about those early days—the jailbreaks, the protests, the so-horrible-you-just-have-to-laugh-now-because-we-made-it-out-alive mishaps—if you can call them “mishaps.”

  “I hate to say it, but this barbecue dip kind of reminds me of that time the Lost Ones basted us in roasting sauces,” Janine says.

  Yeah, that was rough—we were trapped between dimensions in the maze of Shadowland, and hunted down by tormented souls who survive on the flesh of the living. Not one of our finest moments.

  “I still don’t get why they wanted to eat you.” I pick up her hand. “Not much meat,” I joke. But feeling the warmth in her touch, I can’t help thinking about how I almost lost her then. “That was one of the worst days of my life,” I say quietly.

  Janine meets my eyes. “That was the day I knew…”

  “Knew what?” I ask, even though I remember. It was the day she told me she loved me. I couldn’t say it back, not yet.

  “I knew I never wanted to eat barbecue again,” Janine answers solemnly, and takes a huge bite of her sauce-covered burger. I crack up, but Janine shakes her head and takes my hand again.

  “What?” I ask. She glances down at our entwined fingers.

  “I never thought I’d be holding hands with the star of the foolball team, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, because back in school, girls like you wouldn’t give us jocks the time of day.”

  “Ha!” Janine cackles. “Girls like me?”

  “Creative, confident, independent, crazy smart…”

  “All true!” she says wryly. “I was smart enough to see there was more to Whit Allgood than muscles, even before you read me poetry.”

  I smile, remembering that first intense moment between us, and the awkwardness after, when Wisty told her I hadn’t even written the poem.

  Janine drops her eyes and sighs. “But you were always with Celia. It was like you didn’t even see other girls, especially me.”

  “I see you now,” I say, squeezing her hand.

  Janine looks up at me, and I’m really happy to just lose myself inside the endlessness of her wide green eyes. “I see you, too.”

  Chapter 13

  Whit

  I’M WALKING THROUGH darkness where trees are made of bone, and shadows slither under my feet. When I hear wailing in the distance, a familiar terror grips me. I start to run. But then the sky fills with light, the noises stop, and her face is all around me. Her almond eyes, sweet mouth, and rich curls—she’s all I see.

  “Celia?” I ask, blinking up at her ethereal image in wonder. After she died, even the thought of Celia brought instant tears and a sharp stab of hurt, but right now, I only feel peace.

  “It’s good to see you, Whit,” she says serenely. “How’s Janine? I can feel the two of you getting closer.”

  The accusation makes me wince. “I’m sorry, Celes,” I blurt out. “I still miss you every day. You know I wish it could’ve been different, that I could be with you forever, but…”

  “But you were meant to live,” she murmurs, and her gaze gets distant. “You’re meant to be with someone who is real and alive.”

  I nod. Celia’s part of beyond now, a face in the sky I can’t even touch. And when I try to remember her musical laugh and sweet perfume, there’s a disturbing emptiness, a place my memories can’t reach anymore.

  “How are you, Whit?” she asks in that removed voice, her features blurring in the wind. “Tell me you’re happy. Tell me it was all worth it.”

  Was her death worth it to destroy The One?

  “I think it was worth it….” I say hesitantly. But I was never good at deceiving Celia, even when it would’ve been best for both of us.

  “What is it?” she asks, the clouds shifting as her lips purse with concern.

  “It’s just so much harder running things than I’d imagined,” I sigh. “Dealing with laws and kidnappings and the Mountain King threat. And Wisty seems to be pulling away from me and—”

  “The Mountain King?” Celia breaks in. The light filling the sky flickers like a candle.

  “From the Mountain on the western border…”

  “The Mountain King is alive?” Her detached tone is replaced with alarm.

  “The Council thinks he just wants to negotiate the old laws for water usage,” I say, trying to stay calm.

  “Listen to me, Whit.” Celia’s voice rises, and the bone trees around me sway. “There are souls here in the beyond, souls of children, who became Lost Ones because they couldn’t rest after what had happened to them at the hands of the Mountain King.”

  “I don’t understand,” I whisper, feeling a cold dread flood my chest.

  “The Mountain King killed them, Whit. He slaughtered whole cities of people!” Celia screams, her voice thundering all around me. The force of the sound knocks me to the ground.

  “What are you talking about?” I shout up at the sky, but her face is fuzzy static now.

  “Promise me you’ll stay away from the Mountain,” Celia pleads as she fades into red clouds. The shadows start to creep back in as the light dims, and I feel my panic rising. “Promise me you’ll be careful….”

  I wake up from the dream soaked in sweat, with her voice still echoing in my head. But it’s the middle of the night, and Celia is dead. I don’t know who to tell, or who to fear, or where to go. I don’t even know if it was real.

  I’m alone in darkness again.

  Chapter 14

  Whit

  “SO.” I LOOK AROUND a table at the tired faces of the Over Watch, trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice. “What’s the latest? Has anyone heard any news about the Mountain People?”

  Wisty looks at me strangely, but I continue. “Any contact near the border, or changes with the water negotiations? Anything about the King? Any news at all?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, brother,” Wisty protests. “You sound like our dear General Bloom, and we’re not at the Council meeting quite yet. Coffee first. Then business.”

  “Coffee coming right up,” Emmett offers.

  As he sets down the mugs, I raise an eyebrow at my sister. “I thought you hated coffee.”

  “I do.” Wisty drains her mug in one big gulp. “I also hate rules. And meetings. And waking up early. Ruling the City is just a barrel of fun. Hit me with another cup, Emmett,” she says, and slaps the card table.

  “Hey, easy there,” Byron groans, lifting his head off the swaying table and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

  I guess I can’t blame them. It is obscenely early—the sun hasn’t even risen—but
after that dream, I lay awake, the dread slowly turning into icy fear. By early morning, I sent out the alert to the Resistance to meet at The Tube so we could touch base before the eight o’clock Council meeting.

  I’m so on edge, even the graffiti looks malicious this morning; all I see are those painted soldiers marching on the wall. But then I catch Janine midyawn and she grins, looking adorably game for anything, as usual. For a moment, the warmth I felt with her yesterday floods my senses. Maybe the dream was just a stupid dream. Everything is going to be okay.

  “There were more kidnappings last night,” Sasha reports in his typically blunt way, instantly shattering all notions of things being okay. We all stare at him, and he shakes his head dejectedly. “We couldn’t get there in time. That’s the news.”

  “I thought we had eyes and ears all over the City,” I say, bewildered.

  Byron nods. “I used all my connections.”

  “And no one saw anything?” I ask desperately, the frustration starting to spill out of me. “We couldn’t save them?”

  “Hey, we’re doing everything we can, pulling crazy hours,” Sasha says defensively. “I was up all night patrolling.”

  “We just need more people, Whit,” Janine says. “It’s hard to get new recruits because the kids who survived the New Order are still afraid. Don’t forget, it wasn’t that long ago that we lost most of the Resistance to the regime.”

  Celia’s voice intrudes on my thoughts. Souls of children, she said. The Mountain King killed them.

  “And you’re sure none of your street ears have heard anything about the Mountain King?” I repeat, fixing Byron with a hard stare until he squirms.

  “Whit, stop it!” Wisty snaps her fingers in front of my face. “This is bad enough without you acting like a total jerk. What’s up with this stuff about the Mountain King? Did you have another one of those visions?”

  Janine raises her eyebrows, and I hesitate. Just my dead girlfriend shrieking at me to be careful.

  I sigh, feeling like an idiot as I see the wounded looks around the table. “I’m sorry, guys. I know you’re all doing the best you can. Just ignore me.”

  “Always do,” Wisty grumbles.

  “No visions. Just some bad dreams.”

  Chapter 15

  Wisty

  “I’M SO RELIEVED you brought up the issue of security, Mr. Allgood,” Matthias Bloom thunders into the microphone as Whit retakes his seat in the Council. My brother just presented his concerns about the threat of the Mountain King, but I’m not sure I completely understand his recent obsession with the guy.

  “What’s the deal?” I whisper to Whit, but he shakes his head maddeningly and hushes me as Bloom continues.

  “Protecting our citizenry is our highest priority, as you’ll see from our first agenda item today,” Bloom says, and nods to a jowly man in the corner.

  The man reads from the agenda: “ ‘Sanctions for magic makers.’ ”

  Whit jerks his head back toward Bloom. “What?”

  Before I know what I’m doing, I’m on my feet. “What kind of sanctions? The City is free!”

  “Exactly.” Bloom stares down from the new raised platform he’s had installed in the chamber. The Seat of the Speaker, he’s calling it. “And by requiring magic makers to register their powers with the Council, we ensure it will remain free and safe for all.”

  “So… it’s just a registry?” Whit asks guardedly. I gape at him like he’s crazy. Just a registry? This is the first sign of a police state if I ever saw one.

  Bloom shifts in his high seat. “Yes. And in addition, as a courtesy, we will also ask that no acts of magic be performed at this time, at least until our City becomes better able to defend itself. Magical behavior is just too unpredictable. Too dangerous.”

  I clench my jaw. Behavior? It sounded like he was talking about a bunch of un-potty-trained toddlers. No one messes with my M. “And if we refuse?”

  “Why would any magic makers refuse to comply with such a code, unless they planned to do harm? Steps would need to be taken to control the situation.”

  “Control?” I feel a scowl searing my face, and I don’t even have to look at Whit to know that he’s got on that face that’s pleading with me not to do something rash.

  “How’s this for control?” My anger is tingling through my body, and as I work my M up into a spell, I see a uniform look of shock rippling across the room on the Council members’ faces.

  Here’s what they saw: my mouth, and then the rest of me, dissolving into thin air as I disappeared from my seat. It feels kind of like needle pricks all over me.

  “How exactly are you going to control us?” My voice echoes around the room. “Forcibly? Like The One did?”

  I make myself reappear in the rafters for a brief instant, but by the time Bloom’s eyes flit upward, I’m dissipating again. It’s a lot of work—but absolutely worth every uncomfortable look shared among the Council.

  Unfortunately Bloom’s wit is sharp. “The One was truly evil,” Bloom agrees. “Naturally, we recognize that not all magicians pose a threat to society, but without regulating such power, how do we know we won’t end up with another person exerting their unique powers over society like The One did?” A tense hum of whispers builds.

  But I’m about to make Bloom’s golden words disappear, too.

  In an instant Bloom’s toupee soars off his head onto the floor, hit by my invisible hand, and the room erupts in snickers.

  That was priceless. I can’t believe I didn’t think of doing it sooner.

  Bloom finally loses his cool, and his chins quiver with his booming voice. “Ms. Allgood! This is an official Council meeting in the sacred Hall of your City! Will you kindly return to your seat?”

  I can’t resist one last retort. Instead of taking my seat, I materialize right next to him, smirking. This time, he flinches.

  With the last of the magic energy I can muster right now, I return to my brother’s side. I can tell Whit isn’t all that amused by my performance—but he’s still fighting the good fight.

  “These are our rights, and you don’t have the right to change them, Mr. Bloom,” he says. “You don’t speak for all the people.”

  “I am the Speaker. I absolutely speak for our citizens,” Bloom says irritably as he smoothes the few remaining wispy hairs across his head. “Each of us is an elected Council member, and each of us has an equal voice.” He looks like a fat cat about to pounce. “So, let us take a vote, then, shall we? All who oppose that magic makers should disclose their potential to do harm to the general public?”

  From the way Bloom worded it, I see uncertainty written on every face in the room. Still, the hands start to rise, one by one. Most of them are kids who were elected to be on the Council because of their extreme bravery, but they still look terrified.

  “Come on,” Whit says under his breath. “Come on, come on.”

  The revolutionary from the Gutter raises his hand, and the journalist from the suburbs casts her vote. I hold my breath as I wait for more, hoping, hoping…

  But as I look around, the rest of the hands are folded. The voting is done, and it’s not enough. Eight out of thirty-four.

  “All in favor of the proposed sanctions, to secure the safety of the citizenry of the City?” Bloom asks cheerfully.

  The speed at which the rest of the hands shoot up takes my breath away. I clutch Whit’s arm as I gaze around the circle of the room, and I feel dizzy and nauseated.

  We’re surrounded by a wall of hands, every one of them ready to grab for our throats.

  Chapter 16

  Whit

  “WHAT DOES The Book of Truths say?” I shout, my voice carrying through the chamber. “I believe The Book wouldn’t allow for such sanctions.”

  Bloom looks up from his agenda, surprised. “And what makes you believe such a thing, Mr. Allgood?”

  I step into the center of the chamber, my shoes echoing on the marble floor. I look around, trying to catch the
Council’s eyes, spark their trust, remind them why they are here. To serve the good of the community. To fight for free will.

  “As free citizens, we all have the right to see what Council member Bloom sees in The Book of Truths. I move that we reprint the book and distribute it to all citizens immediately.”

  There are collective gasps and excited whisperings around the chamber at the suggestion. Bloom’s eyes appear stone cold from his high chamber seat. “And I move to table this issue for further review. Next agenda item?”

  I hear Wisty’s sharp intake of breath. The Book was supposed to be the property of the whole Council. “What is there to review?” she shouts, starting to reach her breaking point.

  Bloom flicks his wrist absently, as if the answer is obvious. “It would be irresponsible to rush into reprinting. In such perilous times, The Book of Truths could be dangerous in the wrong hands.”

  Exactly. Wisty and I share a look. Bloom’s hands are starting to seem a lot less clean.

  “If we’re facing possible war, the community needs that information now more than ever,” I point out.

  “I agree,” Bloom allows. “The community needs to be protected, and they need someone to interpret the insight that The Book of Truths offers.”

  We parry words back and forth like swordsmen matching blow for blow. The other thirty-one Council members look on, their heads swiveling between us as we each try to gain ground.

  But my head starts to throb from the effort, and I know Bloom can out-talk and out-twist and out-sell Wisty and me any day. Everything’s riding on this debate, and it’s only a matter of time before we fail to block.

  There’s only one final weapon to pull from our arsenal. Wisty sighs and finally says what everyone has been thinking.

  “Look. I killed The One Who Is The One myself. My brother and I saved this City when no one else could, and we deserve a little respect. We demand to see The Book of Truths, which foretold of our power!”

  She’s played our ace.

  The faces around the room are nodding in agreement. But they’re still looking at Bloom the Speaker, Bloom the interpreter, Bloom the Keeper of The Book of Truths, to see what he’ll say.