by E. Latimer
Emma had never thought about that part. In fact, she’d never questioned any of it, but the more she thought about it now the less sense it all made. Perhaps nobody questioned it because nobody truly wanted to know the answers.
A week ago she would have brushed this all off, but something was different now. She kept remembering Lenore’s face on the poster. She kept seeing the edges of the cut-out pages in the spines of the history books.
She’d been lied to. Maybe they all had.
“They keep it quiet, that’s all,” Edgar protested. “Would you want to admit you were stuffed full of witches if you were Scotland?”
Eliza scowled. “You need to wake up and realize everything she tells you is a lie. We need to get off this train now. Or we’ll end up hanging.”
“She wouldn’t do that.” Edgar was nearly shouting now, fists clenched at his sides, his face red. “She wouldn’t do that to us…t-to me. She couldn’t. She’s my mother.”
There was a beat of silence and, to Emma’s surprise, Eliza’s expression softened. She looked like she was about to say something when she was interrupted by a very loud, ear-piercing whistle from somewhere overhead. All four of them jumped, and Emma felt the carriage lurch. She grabbed at the seat nearest to her.
She glanced up, startled, as a soft glow came from overhead. There were iron lanterns along the roof, and they flared to life as the train began to glide forward. Emma turned back to the window, and her stomach plummeted as the scenery was abruptly cut off, plunging the cabin into a dimness punctuated only by the flickering orange light from overhead.
“We’re in the tunnel!” Edgar shouted over the noise. Emma thought that was rather obvious, but before she could say as much, a metallic clunk sounded overhead.
She looked up just in time to see the compartments over the baggage racks spring open, their hatches dropping down. There was a cacophony of hissing from overhead, and a fine powder of green dust began to rain down on them.
Eliza gave a shout of dismay and brought the tattered sleeve of her dress up to her mouth, her voice muffled as she shouted, “It’s thistle. Whatever you do, don’t breathe it in!”
It was too late. In her shock, Emma had already taken a deep breath, and now she felt something acidic sticking to the back of her throat. She gagged and coughed, eyes watering.
Instantly, the dim insides of the carriage seemed to blur, and she felt dizzy and sick. Beside her, Maddie let out a string of muffled curses, pulling the collar of her dress up over her mouth and nose.
The powdered thistle continued to shower down, and Emma felt a jolt of horror as she realized it was coating her skin and hair. If it drained her just by being around the palace, what would it do inside her lungs?
Eliza and Maddie were both sheltering their faces with sleeves and collars, and Edgar had retreated hastily between two benches, pulling his jacket up over his face.
At last the hissing cut off, and the compartments overhead snapped closed with a self-satisfied thwap.
There was only the rumble and chug of the train now, and Emma stumbled forward, muscles feeling strangely heavy, and leaned against the nearest bench.
The carriage seemed to be wavering around her, dissolving into blurred lines and then reforming. This was far worse than usual.
She gasped and coughed again, pressing her sleeve more firmly over her face. “What do we do?”
Eliza was already moving, staggering toward the window with her face pressed into the crook of her elbow. She reached her other hand through the bars and placed it on the glass, expression tight with concentration.
It looked for a moment as if Eliza’s fingertips glowed orange in the darkness, though Emma couldn’t be sure with the way her vision was blurring.
There was a sharp crack as the glass shattered, shards bursting outward.
Cold air rushed in through the window.
Emma’s eyes were still watering, but the sensation of choking seemed to ease, and she was able to stand up straight, as if heavy weights had been stripped from her arms and legs. It felt like walking into the East Wing, times one hundred.
“That was meant to knock us out, so we can’t fight when they lead us to the gallows.”
Eliza whirled around and ripped the letter off the wall. She held it up, gripping it so tightly that it crumpled around the edges. She looked at Emma over the top of her sleeve, eyes glittering. “We need to get off this train and get to Witch City.”
Maddie scoffed, though the noise was muffled by the collar of her dress. “Witch City is hidden. No one knows where it is.”
“My coven is headed there. If we can get away, we can find it,” Eliza said.
Emma nodded slowly.
Eliza was right. Whatever else they did, they needed to get off this train immediately. If the lies about Lenore hadn’t convinced her, the thistle dust had.
Wherever they were going, it wasn’t Scotland.
She tried to imagine the rumors of their escape circulating through the palace. Three royal witches and a coven member breaking out of the Witch Express. The scandal would be endless, which meant her mother would be utterly furious.
If Emma had lived by any kind of code in all her thirteen years of life, it was that if something made her mother furious, it was probably the best route.
“Let’s do it.” Her voice felt faint and weak, but she tried to put as much enthusiasm into it as she could muster.
She glanced over at Edgar, half expecting him to protest, but he was quiet, his shirt sleeve still pressed over his mouth.
It was Maddie who spoke next. “Well, hold on. Even if we tried to escape, the door is bolted.” She waved toward the end of the carriage. “Besides, there’s a conductor. Don’t you think he’d notice us trying to jump off?”
“I can try to burn through the lock. Melt it off,” Eliza offered.
Emma blinked at her, remembering the way she’d broken the window. She’d seen Eliza’s hands grow hot enough to shatter glass. “Can you just…turn it on and off like that?”
Eliza looked startled. “Well, yes. Most witches can.”
Now Edgar sat up straight, lowering his sleeve, an expression of horror on his face. “You can’t just use it whenever you want. It’s magic.”
“Of course it’s magic! My coven is teaching me how to use it.” Eliza’s face went dark. “Or they were.”
Emma glanced over her shoulder at the shattered window. It was still only darkness outside.
“We’re in a tunnel. If we jumped out, we’d be killed.”
“Exactly what they’re counting on, I’m sure,” Eliza said. “What is it you do?”
When Emma only stared at her, she snorted. “You know, what landed you here? What does your power do?”
“Uh, nothing helpful.” Emma felt her cheeks grow hot as Eliza stared at her. “I…hear people. Their heartbeats.” It was the first time she’d ever said it out loud, and it sent a pang of nausea through her.
Eliza huffed and turned back to the door. “Bloody fantastic.”
“It isn’t as if I picked it out. I’d get rid of it if I could.” When she glanced at Edgar, he was staring at her over the top of his collar, eyes narrow, and she turned away quickly.
Obviously, he knew her power was more than just hearing heartbeats. She braced herself, waiting for him to accuse her, but to her surprise he said nothing. He just stared silently out the window.
Eliza turned to face Edgar. “What about you, Your Highness? Do you do anything helpful?”
Edgar muttered something at the windowpane. Emma couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like “not a witch.”
Eliza laughed bitterly. “You’re a bad liar, Your Highness.” She threw up her hands and turned back to the others. “None of this is any good.”
The steady chug of the train fell into the silence between them, and
Eliza paced to the other end of the carriage, pausing in front of the door and frowning at it as if she could knock it down with the force of her scowl. Maddie followed, and Emma trailed behind her.
“We could blow it up,” Maddie offered. “You know, set the boiler on fire or something.”
Edgar looked dismayed, but before he could protest, Eliza said, “That won’t work. My gran said it’s fire-less. Specially to transport explosive goods. Like chemicals.”
“Or witches,” Emma said sourly.
“Alright,” Maddie said slowly. “What if we stop the train?” Maddie’s voice was hushed, and she darted a look at the door.
“How would we stop the train?” Eliza kept her voice low. “Explain.”
Maddie hesitated. “Maybe you can…I dunno, mess up the engine somehow. Make it quit so we just coast to a stop. Then you can burn the door and we’ll get out.”
“That’s…actually a good idea.” Eliza sounded so surprised that Emma thought she would have been rather insulted, but Maddie just grinned.
Eliza turned to the door, pressing a hand to the knob, her face grim.
“This could take a while, and you may want to stand back.”
“Wait, hold on.” Maddie ducked down, fishing around in her boot. “I know I’ve got one somewhere. Here.” She straightened up, triumphant, a thin silver wire in her hand.
“You keep lock-picking things in your stockings?” Emma raised a brow at her, and Maddie smiled.
“It’s a hatpin. I filed it down a bit so it wouldn’t skewer me in the foot, but I always keep one on hand.” She faltered a little at this, her smile fading. “Uh, anyway, let me see the lock.”
Emma watched as Maddie crouched by the door and slid the thin silver pin into the lock. She wiggled it back and forth for a long minute, tongue poking out between her teeth.
Emma kept an eye on the crack in the door, heart beating hard in her throat, half expecting the conductor to hear them and come bursting through. But there was nothing; probably the train was too noisy for him to hear anything.
At last, something must have clicked, because Maddie straightened up, beaming at them. “Got it.”
Emma grinned. Funny how the train was packed with thistle in case they tried to use their powers, but apparently not one of the adults had considered what a single hatpin could do…
Now that the door was unlocked, Edgar rose from his seat, alarmed. “What on earth are you doing? Shut that immediately—”
“Here, let me go in first.” Eliza crept forward, pushing the door open an inch at a time.
In the faint orange light from the lanterns, Emma caught a glimpse of the compartment beyond. There was a wall of machinery at the front, brass tubes and pulleys and pipes emitting strange clanking sounds. Perched on a wooden chair overseeing it all was the conductor, his hat pulled low over his eyes.
Thankfully, the engine was so noisy that they didn’t have to worry about him hearing them.
Eliza leaned back to whisper in Emma’s ear. “If I can burn some pieces of the engine it might stop working, but he’s going to know what’s going on pretty quickly.”
Emma nodded, taking a deep breath. “Do it.”
Maddie and Eliza exchanged a look, and Maddie’s eyes were round in her pale face. Emma was fairly sure she was thinking about the first time they’d seen Eliza, flames flickering up her arms. Behind her, Edgar kept moving, shifting from foot to foot and wringing his hands, whispering anxiously that this was a terrible idea, and that his mother was going to be furious.
He didn’t cease this until Emma turned and hissed at him to shut up.
It took an agonizingly long time. They watched Eliza focus on the palm of one hand, eyes narrowed in concentration. Finally, something began to happen: a spark at first, and then a flicker of flame at the tips of her fingers. Eliza grinned.
At the start, there were several uncertain moments when the flame looked like it was going to flicker out, and Eliza glared down at it, mumbling angrily under her breath, brows knit together. Then, without warning, the fire flared. Eliza yelped and pulled back, bumping into Emma’s left shoulder. The train lurched just then, and Emma gasped as her boots slid on the floorboards and she pitched over sideways, her shoulder crashing into the chair across the aisle. Eliza gave a shout, which was followed by a shriek from Maddie. Emma scrambled up in time to see a huge orange fireball burst through the compartment, bathing the cabin in stark, blazing light and enveloping the startled conductor.
A great deal of noise and chaos followed.
The conductor gave a series of high, panicked screeches as he stumbled forward, beating at his coveralls. This was punctuated by Edgar wailing at Eliza, “He’s on fire!”
Emma was forced to jump back as the conductor charged toward them, crashing into Eliza, who fell over onto Maddie and Edgar. The conductor plowed past into the adjoining carriage, howling and beating at his jacket, before running straight into the door at the other end with a resounding thud.
Emma watched in shock as he fell, landing flat on his back in the middle of the aisle with all the grace of a felled tree. The flames on his coveralls were extinguished as soon as he hit the ground, eyes rolling into the back of his head.
There was a stretch of heavy silence, during which Eliza let out a shaky breath and said, “I think he’s knocked himself out,” and Emma, staring at the unconscious form of the conductor, realized that although the driver was no longer with them, the train was still moving.
They were all in a great deal of trouble.
Edgar seemed to be thinking the same thing, because his face drained of color. “Don’t…don’t we need him?”
“Where’s the brake on this thing?” Eliza leapt forward, casting a frantic look over the machinery, and Maddie and Emma joined her, spreading out to look around the cabin. There was the conductor’s chair in front of the valves and gears, and the front of the train seemed to be completely covered in metal tubes.
A pang of fear went through her. It was no good; she couldn’t tell what any of it did. How were they supposed to pull the brakes if they couldn’t find them?
“I can’t tell what’s what.” Eliza’s hands were in her hair, her eyes wild. Emma herself could feel sweat collecting under the collar of her lacy dress.
“It’s got to be somewhere near his chair, doesn’t it?” She kept looking. There were a number of knobs with red tops, and a large gauge with a ticking needle in the center, and metal tubing that snaked up the side of the cabin. None of it looked like a brake.
There had to be some kind of pulley or lever, a long metal stick jutting from the floor. Something you could yank on.
There was nothing.
“This was a terrible plan.” Edgar was yelling over the sound of the engine, his face furious. “You’ve completely botched this up, I can’t believe—”
“You shut up,” Eliza snapped back at him. “If your horrible mother hadn’t—”
“Hush, both of you!” Emma yelled over them. “Keep looking for the brake.”
“I have no idea what it looks like.” Eliza’s voice was strained as she leaned over the chair, searching all around it. “This is bad!”
“I think it just got worse.”
They turned to look at Maddie, who was peering out the window. “Look.”
Outside the window the quality of darkness had changed. The tunnel seemed wider now, and streetlamps went by rapidly, sending patterns of light and darkness flashing through the train.
The thing Maddie was referring to was clearly visible through the front window, where, just ahead, the track curled up and up and then ended in a solid brick wall with a large black-and-white sign lit up in the darkness.
END OF TRACK.
There was little time to brace themselves.
Emma yanked Eliza back and out of the engine carriage, screaming at h
er to run, and they bolted down the aisle and over the prone form of the conductor.
Edgar was attempting to wedge himself under one of the benches, and Emma followed suit, grabbing Maddie and Eliza and pulling them under the nearest bench. She wrapped her arm tightly around the iron leg closest to her.
“Hang on!”
It started with an earth-shattering impact, a crash that reverberated and multiplied, repeating until it reminded Emma of a chaotic heartbeat. The floor beneath her shook so hard she felt her bones might rattle out of her skin, and she bit her tongue hard. She clung to Eliza and Maddie as the world crumpled and twisted, the sound of shrieking, grating iron all around them.
Something slammed into her left shoulder and hip. The pain was sudden and shocking, but she was too intent on holding tightly to Maddie and Eliza to really notice. Somehow, they had to stay together.
Another impact followed, lurching them forward and then back again, slamming her shoulder and sending a second shockwave of pain through her body. She screamed, and the floor trembled beneath her.
And then…there was silence, and stillness, and only the quiet, troubling sound of something hissing off to their right.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
At first, she thought it was strangely dim. In her confusion she wondered if the sun had set. And then her eyes adjusted, and she realized that the reason it was dark was because the lanterns had gone out and the light filtering in from the window above was thick with the remaining thistle dust.
Feeling sick, she threw her arm over her mouth and nose and then frowned, blinking upward.
Wait, the window above? She looked blearily at the ceiling, and then realized with a stab of alarm that they appeared to have flipped over. The windows were above her, sending a stream of faint yellow light into the carriage, shadowed by the iron bars.
She felt someone shift beside her then, and realized something was gripping her arm very tightly.
“Emma? Are you okay?” a voice said. Emma blinked hard in the dim light, barely able to make out Eliza’s face.
