He steps forward and clumsily hoists me up, his shoulder pushing under my thigh. Once I’m seated, straddling the trunk, Leo pulls himself up in a swift, elegant lift.
“So . . .” I dig a finger into the bark. “When are you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“How you were planning to kill me.”
“What?” Leo’s startled.
I shrug. “Shouldn’t I know, if I’m hoping to defend myself? I’ll be better prepared if I know what’s coming.”
“It’s hard to say.” Leo burrows his fingernail into the tree trunk. “Each soldier has his own preferences. Some play with their prey before . . .”
“Do—did you?”
Leo shakes his head. “No. I was quick. Most soldiers are extremely strong and have the element of surprise to their advantage—since most sisters don’t know what’s coming. But—”
“Well, at least I have that in my favour.”
“More than that,” Leo says. “You’ll have the ultimate advantage tonight. Each soldier has his target. You were mine. So whichever soldier you fight, he won’t know what’s coming.”
“What?”
Leo peels off a long strip of bark. “We need a little time to prepare, but after that you should be fine. Your sisters, on the other hand, it’ll be much harder for—”
“Wait. What?” I stare at him. “You never said anything about my sisters.”
Leo frowns. “I thought you realized. I’m sorry, I didn’t . . .”
I think of Liyana. Why didn’t I take Leo seriously before, why didn’t I warn her?
Leo reaches out, takes my hand. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’s strong.”
“How do you know? You never met her.”
“She’s a Sister Grimm,” Leo says, as if this says it all.
I take a deep breath. “And what will he do to you? When he realizes what you’ve done.”
“I’m not certain.” Leo tries to smile. “I don’t think a soldier’s ever disobeyed a direct order before.”
“He’ll punish you,” I suggest, allowing myself to hope this might be the extent of it.
“Yes,” Leo concedes. “He probably will.”
“But . . . he won’t . . . ?”
“I’ll take care of myself,” he says.
“But what if . . .” I still can’t bring myself to say it.
“Well,” Leo says, attempting a smile. “Given your abilities to give life, I’m sure you could resurrect me, even if he did.”
I stare at him, horrified. “Don’t even joke about that. Don’t—”
“I’m not joking,” Leo interrupts. “I’d imagine that with the combination of your powers and the potency of Aether here, you’d be able to do anything.”
I scowl at him. I won’t ask about Aether. I don’t want to know.
Leo gives me an apologetic smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of myself,” Leo says again. “You need to prepare yourself for the kill.”
I look at Leo but, my instincts overwhelmed, I don’t know if he’s lying. Does he know what his father will do? I think of this soldier. I don’t want to fight him; I certainly don’t want to kill him. No matter what Leo claims about the necessity of it.
“If you don’t,” Leo says, reading my thoughts again, “you’ll stand no chance of survival. Your father will kill you tonight. No question.”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m sorry, but we don’t have time to discuss the merits and morals of all this.” Leo snaps a piece of bark. “This is an eternal war and you’ve been conscripted into it. Any soldier here will kill you, given half a chance. If it makes you stronger, know that it’s self-defence.”
I think of my stepfather.
“All right.” I sit up straighter. “So, what is it you think I can do?”
Bea
“Wait,” Dr. Finch calls. “You’re too fast—wait!”
But Bea doesn’t wait, she can’t, her legs have their own life and they refuse to slow. And she’s glad to leave him behind, doesn’t care she’s being rude, doesn’t care for anything other than running as fast as she possibly can.
Bea can’t remember the last time she ran like this. Occasionally she’s dashed for a train in the underground, darting between closing doors, breathless. But with wobbling body parts, cramping muscles, and aching lungs, it’s not a nice feeling. In Everwhere, it’s different. It is magnificent.
Bea runs faster than she’s ever run, hurtling through the mists, feet darting over moss and stone so swiftly they seem to never touch the ground. She’s light as a feather, a single swift arrow of muscle and breath. She is air, and the force of her body powerful as a hurricane. Bea grins into the wind, hair whipping back, heart pounding, lungs pumping. She runs on and on.
Far away, a whisper on distant winds, she hears him still calling.
Bea picks up such speed that she’s no longer taking great steps over the stones, she’s sailing over fallen tree trunks, legs stretched out in a perfect balletic leap. With another, Bea lifts into the air. She rises higher, higher still, above rivers and rocks, through falling leaves, beyond the thinnest branches of the tallest trees, soaring up into the moonlight.
Now that she’s flying she remembers it all.
Scarlet
“If all that is true,” Scarlet says, “then I don’t see what I’m supposed to be able to do in self-defence. I might as well surrender right now.” And, in the wake of losing her grandma, Scarlet doesn’t particularly care for life much right now. She sits with her resurrected mother in a glade, a circle of stones pressed into the mossy ground. Scarlet sits on one side of the circle, Ruby on the other.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ruby snaps. “You’ll do nothing of the sort. You’re far stronger than you think, and you’ve not even tested yourself yet, so how would you know? I always told you never to give up, not ever—”
“I’m sorry.” Scarlet tears a vine of ivy from a nearby branch. “Forgive me if I can’t recall your pearls of mothering wisdom.”
Ruby ignores the barb. “You have fire at your fingertips, yes? On Earth, you can’t make much more than sparks. But here you can set light to fields, you can burn through entire forests, you can—”
Scarlet frowns. “How do you know that?”
Ruby shrugs. “What do you think I’ve been doing for the past ten years?”
“Oh, I don’t know, joining circuses, robbing banks—whatever you fancied, I imagine, being finally unencumbered by a daughter you never wanted.”
Ruby is silent. When she speaks her voice is a whisper. “I did. I wanted you more than anything else in the world.”
“You had a fucking funny way of showing it.”
“I sold my soul to get you. The consequences were more than I expected.”
Scarlet frowns but says nothing.
“For the last ten years, I’ve been hiding from your father and doing my research.”
“I don’t—”
“For goodness’ sake.” Ruby meets her daughter’s gaze and holds it. “There is a soldier stalking you here, right now. If he finds you, he will kill you. So, please, will you just give it a try?”
Scarlet is about to protest again but, at the furious determination on her mother’s face, closes her mouth and clenches her teeth. She doesn’t know how to ignite the fire at her fingertips, how to summon it on a whim. But she’s aware that it always sparks when her emotions are heightened. Scarlet looks at Ruby, focuses on channelling all her feelings of hatred and anger into the palms of her hands.
At first, Scarlet feels nothing.
Then her hands start to heat as if she were holding two burning-hot coals. As she stares down, a sudden flare of electricity arcs from the centre of each palm, cutting through the fog, the two uniting into a single bolt. For several moments, as Scarlet stares open-mouthed, it curls and sparks like an electric eel. Then, all at once, it dives, piercing the trunk of an ancient oak, splitting it down the middle. The almighty crash of the sliced t
ree as it falls sends shockwaves that tremor through the ground at their feet.
For a second the falling leaves are suspended, immobile, in the air. Scarlet stares at her mother, who stares at Scarlet, speechless.
The soldier watching from behind a willow tree takes a step back.
Liyana
“I know how much you love water,” Mazmo says, coming to a sudden stop.
Liyana stumbles, stubbing her toe on a stone. “I don’t remember telling you that,” she says, reaching down to rub her toe.
“The first time we met, at the swimming pool. Remember? Anyway, I’ve brought you to this place because it has the most beautiful lakes I’ve ever seen.” He smiles—Liyana can’t see this through the thick fog but hears it leak into his voice. “The most beautiful lake I’ve ever seen for the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. That’s fitting, isn’t it?”
Liyana says nothing.
“Don’t be like that.” He squeezes her hand. “It’s no fun if you sulk.”
“I—I’m only thinking that it’s, um, a shame I won’t be able to see it in this fog,” Liyana says. “Maybe we should come back another night?”
“And waste that walk? No, the weather’s always changing here. We’ll wait. It won’t be long.”
“All right,” Liyana says, since it’s clear from Mazmo’s tone that she doesn’t have much choice in the matter. She only hopes it won’t be long. She wants to go home. She wants to be back in bed. She wishes she’d never left. What had she been thinking, following a virtual stranger to somewhere unknown?
Then, sure enough, the fog begins to lift.
“See, I told you so,” Mazmo says. And now she can see his smile.
They are standing on the bank of a lake. The water is still as glass, the moon casting a slice of silver across it like the seam of a dress. Willow trees line the banks, their long leafy branches swaying in the breeze. The white leaves are still falling, though none fall on the lake—the water remains untouched, unrippled, unbroken.
Liyana exhales. “My God, it’s so—”
“See?” Mazmo grins, excited as a schoolboy. “Didn’t I tell you it would be worth the wait?”
Liyana nods, unable to shape the messy enormity of her feelings into comprehensive words. “It’s so, so, so . . .”
And suddenly, she remembers. She has been here before, when she was a child. It’s real, special, secret. Only certain people are able to . . .
“It’s Everwhere.”
Still grinning, Mazmo nudges her. “That’s right. You got it.”
“Thank you.” Liyana kisses his cheek, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude. “I’m sorry I didn’t—thank you.” Images flicker at the edges of memory, but she’s looking at them deep underwater, shifting and blurred. Voices call to her, but they’re too muffled for Liyana to make out the words.
“You know,” Mazmo whispers, “there’s no one about. We could go swimming.”
“But I don’t have my—oh.” Liyana nudges him back. “You cheeky bugger.”
Yet, as unwise as it might be to disrobe in present circumstances, she wants to. She wants to feel the cool water on her bare skin, wants to submerge herself, wants to hear nothing but the thrum of the lake, its heartbeat in her ears. She wants to see nothing but water all around, from the end of her nose to the edge of the earth.
“Well . . .” Liyana hesitates. “I don’t—”
She never says the next word, for, in the next moment, she’s falling. She’s slipped on the wet riverbank and is falling into the water. Her chest hits the water first, the impact a sharp slap to her ribs, then she’s under, holding her breath, opening her eyes, thrusting back and forth, back and forth, pushing against the sucking force of the water, as if her arms were bird’s wings in flight. She must have sunk deeper than she thought, since air and breath aren’t coming yet. But it’s okay, it won’t be a moment, the lake wasn’t so deep. Liyana’s lungs begin to sting, sore with the wait for air. She needs to open her mouth, needs air to rush in right now. It’s then Liyana realizes she hasn’t fallen into the water. She’s being pushed under.
Goldie
I’m not doing this, I think, even as I am. I can’t, it’s impossible.
I’m still sitting astride the fallen trunk, facing Leo, who’s coaxing me on as a long tendril of ivy uncurls from the branch of a nearby tree and stretches into the air. I flick my index finger, and the ivy begins to sway back and forth like an enchanted snake.
Leo applauds. “See? I told you it’d be easy here, didn’t I?”
I shrug, though admittedly I’m relieved. “But I still don’t see how this—it’s a nice parlour trick. But how will it stop a soldier from killing me?”
“That’s just intention,” Leo says, as if that is the simplest thing in the world. “Once you know you can do it, then it’s only a matter of directing it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you can make the ivy dance,” Leo says, a flicker of light returning to his green eyes. “Or you can wrap it around my neck and choke the life out of me.”
“Oh.”
“You see?”
I nod. I wish we weren’t here. I wish we were still in the hotel, days ago. Before I knew anything, when I could still stroke the soft skin of his scars and wonder.
“So, do you want to try it?” Leo says, as if suggesting I string a daisy chain.
My fingers go limp. “You want me to try and choke you?” The enchanted ivy falls to the ground.
Leo looks at me, as if I’ve not quite understood the purpose of this place. “Goldie.” His voice drops. “You do realize that Everwhere is teeming with soldiers tonight. It’s not only for you and your sisters that they’ve come—every month on the first-quarter moon . . .”
I glance at his hands resting on the trunk. I want to reach out, to ask Leo to hold me.
“Think of Teddy,” he says. “If you don’t do this, you won’t stand a chance against your father.”
I have no choice, I realize. This is my fate. I cannot escape it. So I nod and, with great effort, draw myself up.
“All right then,” I say lightly, as if I too am only talking about making a daisy chain. “Let’s give it a shot.”
Bea
Bea is the wind through the trees, she’s the light of the moon, the breath of the birds. She imagines her sisters walking on the rocks and moss far below. Up in the heavens the white leaves don’t fall, which leads her to wonder exactly where they come from.
Is Dr. Finch still calling her name? Well, he can wait. She might return. She might not. For now, Bea is lighter than air, swifter than moonlight, stronger than any superhero. She thinks again of the blackbird illustration that could have been drawn for her. It strikes Bea how ordinary flying feels. How natural, how normal. When was the last time she felt this way? When was the last time she flew?
I was going to fly away, Bea thinks, as she soars over the highest tips of the tallest trees. I was going to fly to Everwhere and never return to Earth. The thought slows her down so she’s gliding, drifting on warm currents of air. Bea thinks of Vali, of what she took from him, of how he’ll never experience this. Sorrow and guilt flush her lungs with her next breath and sit heavy in her chest.
Slowly, Bea sinks from the heavens to float below the tops of the trees. Soon she’s so close to the ground that her feet graze the bleached stones. She tries to shake the thoughts from her head, to dislodge the feelings from her heart. She points her nose to the moon, kicks her legs as if trying to restart a playground swing, urging herself up.
Fingers wrap around her booted ankle. Bea glances down to see Dr. Finch below reaching up, pulling her down.
“Let go!” She kicks him off. She wants to be airborne again, untethered, unshackled, unbound. She wants to be flying; she wants to be free. Dr. Finch catches hold of her ankle again. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I want to show you something.” His grip tightens. “You can mess about later.”
I
’m not messing about, Bea thinks. The rest of my life, that was messing about. This is the only thing I want to be real, the only thing I want to be true.
“Let go! Let me go!”
He tugs her down. “Come on.”
“Piss off!” She thinks again of Vali, of how she must be careful, must control herself lest she hurt someone else. “Okay, okay.”
Bea alights onto the mossy ground.
Dr. Finch takes her hand. “Let me show you something beautiful.”
But what could be more beautiful than flying?
“All right then.” Bea tells herself to be kinder, more grateful, more gracious. “But let’s be quick.”
And they begin to walk side by side along the path again.
Liyana
So this is how I’m going to die: at the hands of Mazmo Muzenda-Kasteni. Everything returns in the flood of water into her lungs—her sisters, the soldiers, the eternal fight. She remembers it all. But too late.
Death is a shocking thought, a sobering thought. It isn’t how Liyana imagined she’d die, and she certainly didn’t think it would be so soon. As Liyana thrashes in the water, she thinks of Aunt Nya, of Kumiko, of her sisters. Arms flailing, eyes stinging, lungs exploding, she thinks her goodbyes.
A memory snaps into focus.
Liyana stands on a riverbank watching the water. She casts a shifting silver shadow, broken only by the current, by the falling leaves. She watches the brook’s eddies and swirls, as if it were being stirred by a water god’s hand. Another leaf falls. Now she knows what she can do with water. She can sway and shape it. Like a water god, she can command it. This is what she can do.
Suddenly, Liyana stops flailing. She is perfectly still. She closes her eyes. She opens her mouth, drinking in fresh water as if she’s parched, as if she has not drunk a drop for days. When she exhales, releasing fat bubbles that rise and pop to the surface, Liyana opens her eyes.
At her fingertips, the water begins to churn.
Bea
The Sisters Grimm Page 38
