Witch & Wizard 04 - The Kiss

by James Patterson

  “I know he’s a wizard!” I cut in, exasperated. “He told me, because that’s the kind of relationship we have: an honest one.”

  “We have no idea who Heath could be involved with—Bloom, the Mountain King… even Pearce.”

  At the mention of The One’s creepy protégé, I totally lose it.

  “Pearce is dead!” I explode. “Just like The One Who Is The One. Can’t you just let me be happy for once? I told you—I can take care of myself!”

  Whit looks at me coolly. “So you said. Is that why you pulled that stunt in the chamber earlier, without even running it by me?”

  “Oh, like you’ve been explaining your little Mountain King paranoia to me?” I fire back. “And since when do I need your permission to use my magic?”

  “When you’re speaking to the Council on behalf of all magicians and playing stupid pranks! Do you ever think about how your short temper affects anyone else? No—you only think of you. Yeah, you really seem to be doing a great job of taking care of yourself, Wisty.”

  I blink at him, fighting back tears. That might be the meanest thing my brother has ever said to me.

  “Well, maybe if you had my back instead of shaking your head at me like Bloom and the rest of those cowards, I’d actually trust you enough to talk to you about Heath.”

  Whit gapes at me, the hurt plain on his face. The one thing we’ve always had between us was ultimate trust, but it’s not my fault he broke it.

  “You know what? I don’t care about your personal issues anyway. Date who you want. Just don’t cry to me when it blows up in your face.”

  “Fine!” I shout, throwing another pillow. “Get out of my apartment!”

  But Whit’s already slamming the door.

  Chapter 26

  Whit

  I AWOKE THIS MORNING wanting to fix things with Wisty. Apparently she didn’t feel the same way, though. By the time I spot her strolling across the square, very obviously ignoring me trying to catch up to her, I’m so angry I wish I had another door to slam in her face.

  “We’re late again,” I snap in greeting when I finally reach her side. “Thank you, as usual.”

  “It’s not my fault you’re late,” she says coldly, clicking along in her heels. Since when does my sister wear heels?

  “I waited for you for half an hour!”

  Since that first day, we’ve met with the Resistance at The Tube every morning before the Council meeting and walked over to the chamber together. This morning, Sasha and I went over updates from the City Watch, but Wisty was a no-show.

  Wisty shrugs. “I was meeting Heath for breakfast,” she says sweetly.

  She just had to throw that in my face, didn’t she? That explains the heels.

  “Do me a favor, Wist. Don’t say that name to me.”

  “Real mature, big brother.” Wisty rolls her eyes, starting up the marble steps to the chamber. “No problem. We don’t have to talk at all.”

  “And that’s mature?”

  I stop at the foot of the steps and watch my sister walk away from me—an image that’s starting to feel familiar. I can’t believe this morning I thought we could just move on. The rift between us isn’t a crack; it’s a canyon.

  But something else is going on at the Capitol.

  I was so caught up in bickering with my sister, I somehow missed the huge crowd gathered at the top, near the doorway. There are cameras and microphones set up overhead. Reporters vie for spots near the front. And in the center of all of them is Bloom, the flash of a snapshot illuminating his stern, pudgy face.

  He’s holding some kind of press conference.

  It makes sense. The water supply is dangerously low, and with no fresh rations coming from the Mountain, Sasha said the Watch is overwhelmed with crime in the streets. The Council needs to issue a statement to calm the people before panic and fear build to a fever pitch.

  I just wish Bloom wasn’t the one doing the talking.

  Chapter 27

  Whit

  I’VE LOST MY SISTER in the crowd, and I can barely see the podium, let alone claw my way up there to make a statement.

  I look for an opening in the mob of people, trying to figure out what’s being said, but Bloom’s gesturing someone else to the mic. “We will continue to field questions in one moment, but first, Dr. Wells, if you please.”

  The man looks like a worm—he’s bald, with a narrow pink face and lips that seem to blend into it. He looks nervous behind his glasses as he addresses the press.

  “Magic is an unstable condition, as it manipulates our perception of reality,” Dr. Wells the Worm begins, his pink lips pressed too close to the mic. “All the magic has seeped into our world through wormholes in the universe. Some of you may remember them being referred to as portals. Whatever they may be called, they are akin to an open wound that allows damaging foreign organisms to enter the healthily functioning ecosystem of a human body, and wreak havoc upon it.”

  He pulls out a series of charts and diagrams, awkwardly holding them up and trying to explain the physics of supernatural forces to an impatient crowd. Even I can’t follow the terms he’s using, and I am a supernatural force.

  “Put simply,” he says, clearly noticing the bewildered looks on the faces of onlookers, “magic is what happens when the laws of nature in our world are disrupted by the laws of nature from another world. The two must not intermingle. Chaos results… as we have clearly seen illustrated in recent dark days.”

  Finally, when Bloom signals to wrap up, the Worm adjusts his glasses and looks nervously at the cameras with huge, watery eyes and says, “In summation, these holes that the magicians call portals must be permanently closed.”

  “What?!” I gasp. I think of all the times we needed those portals in the past: to cover ground, or escape The One’s grasp. To see Celia in Shadowland, and to get our parents safely out. They’ve been crucial to our survival.

  I try to push forward to make my voice heard, but a hundred other people are shouting questions at the podium.

  “How does this relate to the water shortage?” a reporter asks.

  “Or the missing children?” another shouts.

  Bloom is reclaiming the podium. “We all know the dangers of magic running rampant in the City,” he booms over the crowd’s roar. “Have you forgotten The One Who Is The One?”

  The mention of that name still strikes fear in the hearts of every citizen, and even the most eager journalists fall silent.

  I spot movement near the stage, though, and for once I’m grateful for my sister’s love of the spotlight as she squeezes herself under the Worm’s arm, pressing into the microphone.

  “The One also tried to close the portals!” her voice echoes.

  The Council may have turned on her, but these citizens haven’t forgotten that Wisty once saved them. All eyes and a hundred cameras look from their old hero to the man who claims to be their protector.

  “His mistake was not closing them all, according to our new discovery,” Bloom says as The Book of Truths is wheeled onto the platform. The cheap parlor trick is getting old, but the cameras love it, and everyone zooms in on The Book, now wrapped in chains and displayed behind glass.

  “Oh, come on!” I shout. “Don’t you see what he’s doing?” But my voice doesn’t carry in the open air, and Bloom clears his throat into the microphone.

  “The Book of Truths refers to the hostile Mountain King as the Wizard King,” he reveals. “He rules with black magic.”

  Like The One.

  My mouth goes dry, and the words die on my lips. I knew it, I realize. Though Celia never said it in the dream, though my vision was a jumble of images, though we couldn’t trace the kidnappings, I knew. That’s why my panic was so irrational, and why I couldn’t tell Wisty—I didn’t want to admit it to myself.

  We’re dealing with a darker power, and we don’t know anything about it.

  “Closing the portals will protect us from his magic as we prepare for the trying days
ahead,” Bloom continues, looking authoritatively into the cameras and into the fearful hearts of the people watching from home. “This Wizard King has taken our water from us, so the Council has declared war!”

  I stare up at Bloom in shock and swallow hard. It’s time to find my voice.

  Chapter 28

  Wisty

  “DOES ANYONE IN this City remember how hard we worked for peace?” my brother asks, his voice cracking with emotion. Whit hates speaking in public, much less on television, but he does have a gift for it, and right now he���s hovering above the crowd, desperate to be heard.

  “Remember how the Council members earned their spots, standing up for your rights? And making our streets safe?” Whit reaches down for my hand.

  “Together,” I shout, levitating up to join him. “With magic.” A hundred flash bulbs go off to capture us floating together. We’re just a few feet up—we don’t want to scare them—but now we’ve got their attention. And Bloom’s.

  “I know we desperately need water, and I know many of you are afraid,” Whit says. “But war is not the answer. War is more starvation, more innocent lives lost, and more ash-covered skies.”

  “But our streets aren’t safe, even with the Watch,” a reporter in a bright pink pantsuit protests, and others mutter in agreement. “How do you plan to protect us?” She points her microphone up at us.

  “We have to at least try to negotiate for peace, and if I have to, I’ll…” Whit swallows, looking out across the crowd. “I’ll lead a mission up the Mountain to meet with this so-called King myself.”

  Our eyes burn into Bloom now. Witch and wizard, a united front.

  Bloom clears his throat with a deafening rattle into the microphone. “Magicians will always look out for their fellow magic makers.” Bloom leans forward, and his gray toupee shifts. “Perhaps the Allgoods have formed an alliance with the Wizard King. This Council has seen them defy law and use magic with force.”

  I want to destroy him in that moment, just like I destroyed The One, but I have to remind myself that the cameras are rolling.

  Bloom is well aware. He doesn’t look at us, but right at the camera when he says gravely, “We suspect magicians may actually be responsible for kidnapping the City’s children and smuggling them up the Mountain.”

  “That’s not true!” I protest, but my voice is drowned out by the aggressive crowd. They need a cause to unite around, a common enemy to rally against.

  And this time, we’re the enemy.

  I feel arms tugging at my ankles. We should’ve gone higher, I think, but it’s too late. People are pressing in from all sides, grabbing at us, and I start to freak.

  The strong emotion makes my M go haywire, and I can’t help heating up defensively. No, I think. Not now. But the people grabbing my legs are already shrieking as their hands blister.

  I stop my magic abruptly and crash to the ground. I have to fix this, I think. I have to explain.

  But the roiling panic of the crowd has boiled over, and the conference is collapsing into a hate rally of antimagic slurs.

  “Dark demon!” a woman spits at me. “Child killer!”

  No one seems to care that this is all based on the claims of one man. They’re afraid. And fear makes people very dangerous.

  I look around for the most dangerous coward of them all, but he’s slipped out of sight.

  “General Bloom,” I yell. This isn’t over yet. “Speaker Bloom!”

  One of Bloom’s lackeys leans into the microphone. “No further questions,” he says, and all I can do is gape at the chaos Bloom left in his wake.

  He just crucified us on TV—with lies!

  Chapter 29

  Wisty

  AS WE PUSH through the sea of reporters shouting angry questions, I wish I could stay and answer them—grab each microphone and erase the poison of Bloom’s lies with truth.

  But right now, we just have to get out of here.

  In my rush to escape the frenzied crowd, I trip in my stupid heels and fly forward down the last few steps of the Capitol building, my face nearly smashing into the stones of the square.

  “I came as soon as I heard.” Heath pulls me up and hugs me against him. I bury my face in his neck, trying not to sob. I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my life. I’m thankful that Janine’s here, too. “This is madness,” she says with wide eyes as she corrals us down a side street, away from the cameras. I see other Resistance kids farther up the block—Sasha and Emmett, and…

  “Mama May?” I ask, barely recognizing the disheveled woman calling my name.

  It’s Mrs. Neederman, all right—the woman who once sheltered me and Whit when we were wanted criminals. Even in the darkest days of the New Order, her bright voice kept everyone’s spirits up. I remember her whole body shaking with laughter as she hugged me, her huge arms swallowing me up.

  Now, her face is thinner and drawn, and her eyes have given up.

  “We saw you on the news,” she tells us as we walk. “What the Speaker said, about you being involved with the kidnappers—”

  “He’s lying!” I grasp her hands desperately, needing her to believe me even if no one else does. “Everything Bloom said was a lie!”

  “We would never do something like that,” Whit reassures her.

  “I know you wouldn’t, honey,” Mama May says. She looks from me to Whit, her big chin quivering. “I know because my baby Pearl Marie is one of those kids.”

  It’s like another punch in the gut.

  “Pearl?” My brother gapes, anguish written all over his face. “We didn’t even know she was missing….”

  “The Watch investigated every kid,” Sasha says, distraught. He pulls a notebook from his pocket and starts thumbing through it. “I swear, she wasn’t on the list!”

  Mama May worries her apron in her hands, looking ashamed. “We were afraid to report her. The One used lists….” She shrugs helplessly. “And Pearl was so smart. She knew the streets so well. We thought she would come back, but she…”

  Her eyes overflow with tears, and this time I’m the one comforting Mama May, cradling her against me like a child.

  I can picture Pearl’s small, pointed features and her honest, gray eyes, holding everyone accountable. She acted so jaded, waving her pocketknife, but she smiled at the Holiday lights like any other seven-year-old would.

  For all the terrible things that have happened today, this feels worst of all.

  “I’m going to find Pearl,” Whit promises. He puts a hand on Mama May’s shoulder and squeezes it. “I’m going up the Mountain.”

  My heart stops. What did he just say?

  Chapter 30

  Wisty

  “HOW COULD YOU promise her something like that?” I demand, my voice scaring up a flock of pigeons from the street.

  Whit says I’m impulsive, but I at least had the sense to wait until Mama May left before I confronted him.

  “How do you know the Mountain King is even the kidnapper? You’re going to trust Bloom?”

  “No,” Whit says tightly. “I’m going to trust my instincts.” Then he looks at me, his face softening, and for a second our old closeness returns. “Remember that night with the visions, Wist?”

  I remember the horrible images, and the way he winced in pain. He was acting so weird afterward, too, so not like my brother—so agitated and scared.

  “I was feeling what Pearl was feeling, even if I didn’t understand it then.”

  I nod. I know Whit and Pearl had a special connection, and I don’t blame him for wanting to risk everything to go after her. I should go, too. I should trust him, but…

  “You can’t leave the City now!” Heath says, seemingly reading my thoughts. Whit wheels around and shoves him against the stone wall.

  “Does it interfere with your plans?” Whit asks, his glare full of daggers.

  “I just didn’t think you’d enjoy seeing your parents behind bars again,” Heath answers icily, and straightens the collar of
his leather jacket.

  “Stop it!” I look from Heath to Whit angrily, but I know Heath is right. That press conference was a horror show. If we leave, every citizen who watched the news will believe Bloom’s claim that magicians are working with the Mountain King. Who will stand up for our rights? Even if we make peace with the Mountain King, we’ll return to another prison state.

  “What about what Mom and Dad said, about winning back the people?” I remind my brother, trying another angle. I know that as strong-willed as he is, he trusts our parents. “If we can just deal with Bloom first…”

  Whit’s jaw tightens. For one long moment, I think he’s swayed, but then he shakes his head, and I know there’s no changing his mind.

  “Bloom’s not the biggest threat. Celia said the Mountain King is a psychopath. And if he has Pearl…”

  Celia? Where does Celia fit in here? She’s dead! Gone!

  “What are you talking about? When were you going to tell me this?”

  “I don’t know—when you were babbling about your date? When you were throwing me out of your apartment?” Whit sighs heavily and rubs his forehead in frustration. “I’m telling you now. Someone has to try to negotiate with the Mountain King, no matter what the Council says. I’m going.”

  “I’m going with you, then,” Janine says, standing next to my brother.

  “I’m going, too,” Sasha says. He looks at me apologetically. “We haven’t caught any of the kidnappers. It’s time to go to the source.”

  Emmett puts up his hands, unwilling to choose, but Whit isn’t looking at him anyway.

  “Wisty?” His eyes are pleading.

  “I…” There’s a knot in my chest, and my eyes flit between Whit and Heath. Do I really have to choose? “I…” But I can’t get the words out—my throat is so dry.

  Heath slides a hand around my waist. I’m not sure if it’s because we merged our magic, but I can almost feel the power in it, the support. You’re needed here, that touch seems to remind me. Stay. Stay.