by E. Latimer
They left the clearing, following the footprints.
She wanted to shout at Maddie that this was her fault, that she had made Edgar fearless, and now he was going to get himself captured. But when she glanced over, Maddie looked just as terrified as Emma was. She kept raising trembling hands to adjust the strap of Edgar’s bag as she walked. For now, Emma decided, she would let it go. She faced forward, fixing her attention on the dark pine trees around them and trying not to trip over rocks and roots.
Her stomach was churning, and she could hear her heart beating in her ears. She had to find Edgar. The idea of something happening to him, well…it didn’t bear thinking about. No more than a day ago, she’d thought she hated him. But now, after everything they’d been through together, it was different. Now, she realized, they were family. In a different way than before. In a real way.
Maddie’s brow was furrowed, and she was staring straight ahead, as if she was concentrating fiercely on something.
They walked on for several minutes. Occasionally one of them would call for him, cupping their hands around their mouth and keeping their voices low. It would be hard to hear him over the racket they were making, the crunch of leaves and sticks on the forest floor. On top of that, Emma wasn’t sure if he’d even respond. What did being completely unafraid make you do? Would he ignore them? Maybe he wasn’t afraid of losing his friends. Maybe he wasn’t afraid of being alone now. She wasn’t sure how far the lack of fear went. Would it somehow erase everything he’d cared about?
The thought made her feel a little sick, and the anger in her belly surged again. She curled her fists at her sides, forcing herself not to turn on Maddie. There was no point; Maddie knew what she’d done, how serious it was.
After another moment, Maddie spoke. “Emma, you were right. I’m really sorry.” She bit her lip, and when Emma met her eyes, her face was grave. “I shouldn’t have done that. I use it too much, you know.” She cleared her throat, eyes on the ground. “I used to do it for attention. I talk a lot, and mother was always ignoring me, so I started saying more and more outrageous things. That’s all it was at first—until it started working half the time. People actually believed me.” Maddie flushed, ducking her head. “And then, as I got used to it, I just did it whenever I wanted.”
Emma nodded. Some of her anger was trickling away. The idea of having a mother who told you to hush up all the time, or to be “seen and not heard,” was not a foreign one.
Maddie pressed on. “It got so bad that my parents started locking me in my bedroom.” She cleared her throat, and in the dappled light filtering down through the trees Emma could see her face was flushed. “I’d still trick the maids sometimes, lie that my mother had said to let me out. So they shipped me off to the nearest hotel; that way, they wouldn’t even have to be near me. The coach driver who escorted me to The Testing blocked his ears up with wax.”
“I’m so sorry,” Emma said, and discovered that she was. Maddie’s parents had wanted to be rid of her, and they’d been far more obvious about it than even Emma’s mother had been.
Maddie was still blushing brightly, and she stared at her feet as she walked. “Thanks. I-I still feel terrible about it all. I know why they locked me away—it was a horrible thing to do to family. And…that means I should have known better. I shouldn’t have done that to Edgar, even though I was scared.”
Emma cleared her throat, turning to face the forest again. “Look, we’ve all done things we wish we hadn’t. Let’s just find Edgar, alright?”
Maddie was smiling faintly, saying something back, but suddenly all Emma could hear was that faint, familiar thump-thump, thump-thump. Unmistakably human, but too slow, too steady to be Edgar’s.
She whirled on the spot, glancing wildly all around. “Mads, he’s here somewhere. The witch hunter is back.”
“Where?” Maddie was pivoting on the spot. “Where is he? Is he close?”
A beat of silence followed as Emma tried to concentrate, to hone in on the heartbeat. Once again, the forest around them was empty and still. There was no sign of Tobias McCraw.
“It’s from up ahead, I’m certain. That way.”
She pointed, and as she did, something stirred in the distant treetops, off in the direction she was indicating: a flutter of black wings across the afternoon sky.
“The ravens!”
They looked at one another, the dread on Maddie’s face echoing her own. If Edgar was up there—strange, fearless Edgar—and so was the witch hunter…
Without a word, they both pitched forward, running full tilt for the place where the birds were steadily forming a column above the trees. That had to be where Edgar was, and if the birds had begun to flock that suddenly, it must mean he was in trouble. They had to get to him—and fast.
Emma darted around trees, nearly tripping over roots and rocks. Maddie was close behind her, and Emma could hear the rhythm of her heart right after her own, beating hard in her ears. It was overwhelmingly loud, and it sent a pang of fear through her.
Not right now. Not when she was so close to finding Edgar.
She was about to attempt to cram the Noise back when a third, more frantic pulse suddenly filled her ears—a quick double beat fluttering furiously in the back of her mind. She recognized it immediately.
Edgar.
Judging by the strength of the sound, he was just up ahead somewhere. And he was very frightened.
As she listened, the volume of the heartbeat seemed to increase, growing louder and louder in her ears. It sent her own pulse racing, and she slammed the door shut on her magic a second later. It was too loud, too fast.
“How are we going to find him?” Maddie gasped the words out. “They’ve spread out.”
Emma looked up, slowing down to avoid tripping over a root in the path. Maddie was right. The ravens had arrived in such great numbers that they were no longer forming a solid line. They’d stretched across the sky, and the area of the forest they were circling was so wide that Edgar could have been anywhere.
Maddie cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled, “Edgar!”
Emma winced. She wasn’t sure if making themselves known was wise, but they both went still all the same, hoping to hear a reply. There was nothing—just the rustle of wings and the calls of ravens from above.
“Can you hear him? His heart, I mean?” Maddie was still scanning the sky, brows furrowed. “You could find him.”
Use the magic deliberately, she meant. For however long it took to find Edgar.
Emma bit the inside of her cheek. “You know what my power does, Maddie. What it could do to Edgar.”
“You won’t hurt him, Em…” Maddie paused, brows furrowed, and then her face brightened suddenly. “Remember what Eliza said about trusting your magic? I trust you, and I know Edgar does too.”
For a long moment Emma just stood there, feet rooted to the ground. Maddie trusted her. She just wasn’t sure she trusted herself. But what other choice did they have? Edgar was in trouble, lost in the forest and being stalked by the witch hunter. She had to do something.
Maddie was right. What was it that Eliza had said? Magic wasn’t good or bad. It was supposed to be useful; it was there for a reason. She could use her magic to find Edgar, to save him.
Trust your magic.
Emma shut her eyes and took a deep breath, turning her thoughts inward. Slowly, ever so slowly, she cracked open the door at the back of her mind, letting the magic out a bit at a time.
At first, she heard nothing, and so she unleashed a little more.
Still nothing.
Trust your magic.
At last, she flung the door open and felt the power rush out, moving rapidly through her, setting the tips of her fingers and toes tingling.
And there it was, the steady thump, thump, thump, followed by that unmistakable double beat.
Edgar
.
She shot forward, hearing Maddie’s yelp of surprise behind her. They ran, weaving through the trees. The sound was leading them toward the edge of the forest, she realized. She could see more tall grass through the trunks up ahead. And as the forest thinned, the sky above became visible, revealing the flocking ravens, a swirling mass darkening the sky.
They had entered a wide, grassy plain, almost clear of trees.
She ran, sprinting across the field, the sound of Edgar’s heart growing louder in her ears. Maddie followed, huffing and puffing. They rounded an outcrop of several trees, leaves sparse on their branches, and found themselves on a twisting dirt path. Up ahead, the path climbed a gentle slope to a crumbling stone bridge over a trickling creek. Beyond the bridge was a house, two stories, with a thatched roof overgrown by ivy. It had wide rectangular windows, and the wraparound porch was decorated with wildflowers that provided a welcome burst of color. The sign nailed to the overhang read The Teahouse.
The heartbeat here was impossibly loud. It thundered in her ears, and—
There.
Edgar sat on the ground at the base of the bridge, knees pulled up to his chest. His hair, as always, was ruffled and standing on end, but his nails—usually so carefully kept—were bitten down and bloody. He must have heard their approach, because he slowly lifted his head and fixed huge, scared eyes on both of them.
“What just happened?”
It was Maddie who moved first, dashing up the path and flinging herself onto him, pulling him into a crushing hug. Edgar jumped, but Maddie hardly seemed to notice his surprise. “I’m so sorry, Edgar. It was a really dreadful thing to do, and it’s all my fault. Can you ever forgive me?”
When Maddie finally released him, Edgar’s face was bright red. “Er, I’m just glad you’re here. Honestly, I felt like I’d woken up from some horrible dream, and you were both gone, and I was somewhere completely different, and”—he gestured limply at the air above him—“they all showed up a moment later.”
Emma, who’d been scanning the surroundings frantically for the witch hunter, glanced up. The flock of ravens had only grown thicker, and they’d begun to form a kind of swirling cyclone in the sky.
“Where is he, Edgar? The witch hunter?” Emma darted another look around the clearing, ready to tell the others to run at any moment. The faint heartbeat had faded now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t lurking somewhere nearby.
“What?” Edgar was chewing his thumbnail again, head tilted back to the sky, clearly distracted.
“The witch hunter. I heard his heartbeat. He was here.”
“Come on, let’s take cover just for a bit. Maybe the birds will go away,” Maddie said carefully, and she shot Emma a look.
Clearly, Maddie was nervous about getting Edgar worked up again.
“Maybe.”
No one spoke as they moved up the garden path and mounted the rickety steps to the teahouse. Emma trailed behind the others, taking one last, suspicious look around the clearing. It was still empty.
But she’d heard him; she knew she had. Which meant he was still on their trail.
Edgar was the first to reach the teahouse door. He jiggled the handle, and the door swung open with a rusty shriek of hinges.
The room beyond was open and airy, its windows hung with heavy red curtains. A number of circular tables were set up throughout, with faded, cream-colored tablecloths and high-backed cushioned chairs draped with cobwebs. There was a thick layer of dust on the carpeted floor and the tops of the tables. They ventured farther in, their footsteps echoing in the silence.
Each table was laid with fine china—a teacup and saucer at each place with a teapot in the middle—along with a silver tiered tray. The latter was filled with lumps of shriveled, moldy cakes and finger sandwiches. Emma wrinkled her nose at the sight.
There was also swampy-looking liquid in some of the cups. She was struck by the idea that the patrons had been sitting down to take their tea and had vanished halfway through. The entire city was like this; it was as if everyone had simply dropped what they were doing and left.
Or disappeared.
The thought made her stomach plunge, and she clamped her lips together tightly. There was no sense in saying something like that out loud, in scaring the others.
“Do you think there’s food in here somewhere? Edible food, I mean?” Edgar’s face was eager as he glanced at her. “My stomach’s eating itself.”
Emma knew what he meant. Her stomach’s gurgling protest had only increased in the last hour. It had to be nearly evening by now. “I doubt there’s anything, but we should check the kitchen.”
“It’s like I said before.” Maddie spoke from behind her. “There won’t be any tea left, or at least no hot water to boil it with. Which is a shame, because I do enjoy a good cup of tea. My mother used to get this really lovely black tea, but I think strawberry has got to be my favorite. Or, no…peppermint.”
“I can picture myself drinking tea and writing my poetry here.” Edgar’s voice was wistful. “Just there, by the window.”
They wove their way through the tables, heading for an arched doorway in the back of the room, which Emma thought might lead to a kitchen. Maddie continued her narration, this time discussing the best types of biscuits to go with tea. Emma paused to peer through a window as they walked by, her gaze scanning the edge of the forest for movement or shadow.
Edgar also stopped to look outside, and Emma noticed him flinch when he saw that the sky was still full of ravens. It was no good. The ravens knew he was in here. And they didn’t seem to be losing interest.
They were halfway across the room when Maddie abruptly went silent.
Emma turned. “What, have you run out of flavors to talk—”
She was speaking to empty space. There was no one behind her, only another table full of dusty teacups. “Maddie?”
This couldn’t be happening. She had to be here somewhere. She’d just run outside for some reason, or she was playing a cruel trick by hiding under one of the tablecloths. Even as Emma thought this, though, she knew none of it was true. She would have heard something, but there’d been nothing. Maddie had been talking one minute, and had been cut off abruptly the next.
Edgar stared at the place Maddie had been, and then over at Emma, eyes wide. “She’s gone too, hasn’t she?”
Five minutes later, Emma and Edgar sat at one of the dusty tables, both of them pale and deathly silent. Neither had bothered to call for Maddie the way they had for Eliza. They both knew she hadn’t left the teahouse, nor was she playing a trick on them.
No, Maddie had just…vanished. Exactly the same way Eliza had. There one second and gone the next.
Edgar groaned and dropped his head into his hands, and Emma glanced out the window at the birds circling the rooftop. There were so many now that they had begun to block out the already muted light of the evening sun. She didn’t tell Edgar to get himself together though, or to make the ravens stop. She knew how it felt when your power seemed to be completely out of your control. She was just beginning to get a tentative grasp on her own.
Emma glanced over at him. “Maybe…maybe this is what the ambassador was talking about.”
Edgar lifted his head to stare at her, so she pressed on. “I mean, maybe they’ve made it to the other side, and that’s why they’re gone. This place is magic, right? Maybe it lets you through one at a time or something.”
“You think so?”
It was a wild guess, but Edgar looked so hopeful that she merely nodded.
“It would make sense, right? We were separated when we arrived here, so why wouldn’t leaving work the same way?”
Slowly he nodded, straightening up. He seemed utterly relieved, and Emma felt a little guilty, but at least he wasn’t slumped over in defeat anymore. “Yes, that must be it,” he said. “They’re probably waiting for u
s.”
“Well then, let’s keep moving.” It seemed to be the only thing to do. Stay on the move, vanish back into the forest, and lose the witch hunter who was following them.
They left the teahouse behind, traveling around it and through the overgrown backyard, climbing over the ramshackle remains of a picket fence. Beyond that, there was more forest, though it was thinner here, the tree branches sparser and empty of their leaves.
They walked for several minutes, and although they moved very fast, and Emma insisted on weaving in and out of the trees in what she hoped was an evasive maneuver, she couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of being followed. Of being watched. The hairs on her arms prickled, and she kept a careful eye on the shadowy spaces between the trees. She grew even jumpier when the sun began to sink below the horizon, and the shadows steadily deepened.
Slowly, the forest floor gave way to a wide dirt track. For riding, Emma guessed. As they came around an outcrop, Emma staggered to a halt. Behind her, Edgar almost ran into her back.
There was a tall, black-clad person up ahead through the trees, and Emma jumped back, fists raised, heart racing.
McCraw.
Edgar moved to stand beside her and clutched her arm very hard, letting out a shuddering breath.
Seconds passed. Emma and Edgar stayed very still. Through the trees, the figure didn’t move. Emma frowned, creeping a few steps closer to get a better look. On closer inspection, it didn’t look like a person at all. It was…gray. She released a long breath, feeling foolish.
Another statue.
Exactly how many times was she going to be scared to death by statues in this wretched place?
As she drew closer, she could see that this one portrayed a woman sitting on a throne, skirts billowing out around her. Emma had seen a similar statue of the queen near Hyde Park, in the real London. But this woman’s crown was different—more delicate, with pointed, leaf-shaped sections that rose up at the front. Instead of the Thistle Queen’s scepter, this woman held a long staff in one hand, topped with a white stone, and at her feet was a cauldron, unbroken and standing upright on stubby legs.
