by Erin Bowman
Piper shuddered and turned for the stairs, descending them with painstaking care. In the kitchen she rummaged for supplies at a snail’s pace. It was growing difficult to keep her invisibility in place as she moved, harder still to extend that invisibility to the items she was picking up and stowing in her backpack.
Finally she was on the patio, the weight of her affinity multiplying. The blanket around her felt like the lead ones the dentist used during X-rays.
Gritting her teeth, Piper climbed the stag and sized up her jump. She wouldn’t be able to hold her invisibility much longer. Just thinking about it caused sweat to bead across her brow. Praying no one was peering out the estate windows, Piper jumped. She felt her affinity vanish mid-roll, but by then, the true state of the garden had swallowed her.
She swayed a moment after landing, feeling woozy. She didn’t need to reach for her affinity to know she was empty, that it would be several hours before she could even dream of summoning it again. She just hoped she’d be ready when it came time to head to Melena’s office.
“Teddy!” Piper yelled, making her way up the oak alley. “Teddy, wake up and get your butt over here with that new key.”
Morning sun filtered through the oak branches, dappling the ground with light. When Piper reached the end of the alley, the path forked, and she randomly turned left, still calling for Teddy as she went. She should really ask him where he slept at night.
The path brought her toward the western fountain of Fates. The long rectangular pool of water rippled from the fountain spray, reflecting light off the statues’ golden robes. Piper stared up at the Fate with the shears. The blades looked sharp, perfectly capable of severing a thread of life.
She could still remember the first time she’d experienced death: a coyote had gotten through a loose bit of fencing on her father’s chicken coop and enjoyed a midnight feast. Piper had been seven.
Atticus had explained that no animal lives forever—not humans or chickens—and sometimes life has unexpected plans. Death was natural, a critical part of the circle of life.
It didn’t matter how patiently he explained everything. Piper was distraught. She insisted that the chickens had escaped into the night and were living in the wild, content and liberated. (Atticus hadn’t let her see the chicken coop until after he cleaned it, so for all she knew, this could very well have been the case.) Now, of course, she could see that her father had tried to spare her some of the pain. But if death was inevitable, it meant no one could be spared it forever. That Fate could snip her shears and claim anyone.
Unless, of course, you had the elixir.
“Oh good, you brought food,” Teddy said, appearing at the edge of the fountain. “I’m starving.” He all but ripped the backpack from Piper’s shoulders and tore into a croissant.
“I’m so sorry! I got caught in lessons on Friday, and then there wasn’t a good time to get away on the weekend. I brought you a literal feast to make up for it.”
“Nothing like fresh baked goods,” Teddy said through a giant mouthful, and continued his assault on the croissant. When he’d devoured it in mere seconds, he immediately started on another, grinning up at her from beneath the brim of his Red Sox cap, his cheeks so full of pastry he looked like a chipmunk. Ugh. Sox fans were heathens.
“So, any updates on Mrs. Mallory or where she disappeared to?”
“Still working on that,” Piper said. “I might have some answers tonight.”
“I take it this means I’m still stuck in here? That you don’t want me coming out until you know where she went?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry, Teddy. I just need you to hang tight for a bit longer.”
“Can do, so long as you keep bringing me food.” He pulled a granola bar from the bag, and Piper turned her attention back to the Fates.
“Do you think my mother would kill someone to get the elixir?” she asked.
“No. Definitely not.”
“Oh, come on. She locked you in here!”
“I’m not locked in. If I was really desperate, I could time-bend back to before the garden was concealed and walk out, then time-bend back home if I needed to. But I’ve got you bringing me food now.”
Piper glanced toward Mallory Estate, derelict and crumbling beyond the borders of the garden. “Who do you think they want to save—my mom and grandma?”
“What do you mean?” Teddy asked with a frown.
“The elixir. Why do they want it so bad?”
“They want it because the High Order of Magi asked them to get it. That’s all there is to it.”
“And during all those years of searching, they didn’t daydream about how it could be used? Plus, my mom made my grandma disappear, and I doubt she did that for no reason. Something doesn’t add up.”
Teddy looked at her seriously. “Why would anyone want a drink that makes you immortal?” It was a question, but Piper could tell from Teddy’s tone that he already knew the answer. When she didn’t supply one, he sighed. “Come on, Piper. If you could reverse engineer that drink—if you could make more—you’d be rich. That’s what the High Order always feared. It’s what Mrs. Peavey and Mrs. Mallory feared too, which is why they’re helping the HOM, but something changed. Your grandma’s motives, I think. Unless your mom was lying when she told me to hide.”
“I know that she was lying. My grandma’s a good person. My mom is not.”
“Regardless of what they’d do with the elixir, I know what you’d do. After the fear portal, it’s obvious. You’d use it to save your father.”
Piper peered at him. “And how do you feel about that?”
Teddy shrugged. “I think it’s awesome.”
“Oh. I thought you’d want to be adopted like everyone back at the house. I figured you’d fight me when I said I wanted to bring the elixir to my dad.”
“Not if the adults are all going dark side, and bringing it to them means it will be replicated and used for all the wrong reasons.”
“But what about the High Order of Magi? They’re waiting for you guys to find it.”
“Piper.” Teddy licked the last granola bar crumbs from his fingers and started to peel a banana. “The HOM could conceal it somewhere new and an artifact hunter might still track it down a few years from now. The truth is, the elixir is getting out of this garden one way or another. Your mom and grandma have been after it for years. Camilla and Kenji and Julius want to find it so they can get adopted. And I can’t lie. A permanent home is all any of us want. But you and I are here, right now, two trials away from having it in our hands. Eventually, someone is going to succeed, so I say, if the elixir is going to leave this place, better for it to be used up all in one go, saving someone’s life, than risk it being replicated and sold to the highest bidder over and over again.”
Piper looked at him. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “It would be used for something good. And then the elixir is gone, unable to be abused, just as the High Order intended. Also, I’m ready to get out of this garden, so maybe this is partially selfish. You use up the elixir, I don’t have to stay in here, hiding from Mrs. Mallory or Mrs. Peavey or whoever it is you’ve decided is the bad guy. We both win.”
“And I’ll make sure my dad sees you guys into good homes, talks to the right authorities about adoption. I promise.”
“I know. I thought that went without saying.”
Piper smiled. “Thanks, Teddy.” It was nice to have everything out in the open with at least one person, to have no secrets between them. Surprising, she thought as she eyed his Red Sox tee, but nice. “You don’t have some ulterior motive, do you?”
“No, I swear. But it is kind of shocking—us working together like this. We’re supposed to be rivals.” He smirked as his gaze drifted to her cap.
“I’m sure there are plenty of Sox and Yankees fans who team up to accomplish … things,” Piper said uncertainly.
“Like rooting against each other?”
Piper laughed. “This is going to go really well or very, very badly.”
“How about we find out?” Teddy held up the small gold key they’d obtained the other day. “We’re in the right place, after all.”
Piper looked around. “We are?”
“Yep.” Teddy pulled off his socks and sneakers and waded into the shallow pool. Piper ditched hers as well and hurried after him, being careful to avoid the worst of the spray from the spouts. Standing before the very first Fate, she could see a small keyhole in the statue’s pedestal, just above the waterline. “Here goes nothing,” Teddy said, and slid the key home.
Chapter Eighteen The Fountain of Fates
Almost immediately, the golden statue shifted, sending a flash of light over the water. Piper and Teddy threw their hands up to protect their eyes. There was a colossal crash, and they both leaped backward.
The Fate had tumbled from her pedestal and was gathering her thread from the water. “Darn threads everywhere. Blasted loom. Honestly, it’s a miracle I haven’t broken an ankle tripping, and—oh.” She noticed them and threw her shoulders back. “I suppose you want to know the riddle.”
“Is that what happens next—a riddle?” Piper asked.
“I’m talking to you, so yes. Unless you’d rather not hear it.”
“No, no. We’d very much like to hear it,” Teddy insisted.
“Colossal bother, all this thread,” the Fate muttered, climbing back onto her pedestal. She wrung out her golden skirt and tied back her waist-length hair. “Now, how did it go again … ? ‘Never more … Always some …’ No, no, that’s not it. Something about—ah! I’ve got it. Ready?” With a dramatic sweep of her arm, she recited:
“There is always more, but not for some,
Yet still I will pass steadily on.
A curse only for those who have
A limitless quantity in their grasp.”
“Well?” The Fate stared down at them.
“Can we have a minute to think it over?” Piper asked.
“I suppose,” she said. “This is literally my only purpose. It’s not like I have anywhere to be.” She plopped down on the pedestal and began to work at her loom.
“It’s money,” Teddy whispered. “Mrs. Mallory was always muttering about how her wealth was a curse. How she had all the money in the world and she still couldn’t get into the garden.”
“Maybe,” Piper said. “But there’s not always more money. There are depressions and stock market crashes, and come on—I’m sure being rich isn’t a curse for every wealthy person.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Teddy glanced up at the Fate. “How many guesses do we get?”
“One, naturally,” she said, picking at a length of thread.
“What happens if we guess wrong?” Piper asked.
“Then you’ve lost your chance. I will return to my solid form and won’t repeat the riddle until a new elixir seeker turns the key.”
Teddy gulped.
“Okay, what else could it be?” Piper said, tugging him nearer. “Maybe it’s something more abstract, like … fame. You always read about famous actors and musicians being miserable despite their success. And there’s always more room for new talent, but not everyone will get a big break.”
“But can fame truly be limitless?” Teddy pointed out. “No one stays at the top forever. I mean, look at the Yankees.”
“Just because we haven’t won a World Series in a while doesn’t mean …” She caught sight of the face Teddy was giving her and sighed. “Fine, whatever. I see your point.” She leaned against the pedestal, deep in thought.
“Excuse me. Young girl? You’re pinching my thread!” The Fate tugged at her line, and Piper felt the thread against her back.
“Sorry,” she said, stepping away. Then to Teddy: “I can’t think with her hovering over us like this. Let’s walk.”
“Will you stay here?” Teddy asked the Fate.
“Do I look like I’m capable of going someplace?” She held up her hands, once again tangled in her lines.
“We won’t be long,” Teddy said. “Just need a little time to think. Wait! That’s it.” He pulled his pocket watch out and showed Piper the face. “Time. There’s always more time; it keeps ticking, passing ‘steadily on.’ But everyone’s time is up eventually. And endless time—living forever—would be a curse.”
“Would it, though?” Piper asked.
“Think of all those stories that argue against eternal life. Did you ever read Tuck Everlasting?”
Piper had. It was her father’s favorite book, but she’d never understood why. Winnie Foster could have spent an eternity with a sweet boy who adored her, but instead of drinking from a spring that granted immortality, she gave her drink to a toad.
“Never mind,” Teddy said, slipping the pocket watch back into his shorts. “It doesn’t matter. The answer is still time.”
“Positive?” the Fate asked.
Teddy looked to Piper for confirmation. It did make sense, even if she didn’t agree that immortality would be a curse. She nodded.
“Yes,” Teddy announced. “The answer is time.”
The Fate let out an exaggerated sigh. For a split second, Piper feared they’d answered incorrectly. Then the woman said wistfully, “I was hoping you’d deliberate for hours so I could feel the sun awhile longer. Oh well.” She stood and resumed her pose atop the pedestal. The wind shifted and she was solid again, golden finish glinting. Except for her threads, which were now silver.
“Where’s the key?” Piper asked. “We’re supposed to get a new key.”
“Not yet.” Teddy pulled the small gold key from the base of the first statue and moved on to the middle one. “Three statues. How much you wanna bet we have to solve three riddles?” He turned the key, bringing the second statue to life.
“Let me guess, my sister didn’t stump you,” the Fate drawled. “Typical.” Thread was pooled at her feet, and she worked diligently, wrapping it all into a ball.
“Don’t you have a riddle for us too?” Teddy asked.
“So demanding. But yes, fine, fine, here it is.” The Fate paused her work and recited:
“I can be short or long, full or empty,
But no matter the start, I am always ending.”
“That’s it?” Piper asked.
“Look, I didn’t make the riddles, I just recite them. If you have a problem, you have to take it up with the original High Order of Magi, and they’re currently all dead. I think. My other sister would know.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, toward the Fate with the shears.
“It’s not an issue,” Teddy assured her. “We can figure it out.” Then to Piper he said, “What has varying lengths but always ends? A movie, a race, hair?”
“Those things can’t be full, though, can they?”
“A race could—full of runners.”
“But if it was empty, there wouldn’t be a race.”
“Good point. Maybe it’s”—he touched his pocket watch again—“an hourglass. They come in different sizes. They can be full or empty, and regardless, they’re always working their way toward an end.”
Piper frowned. “We already had a riddle about time, and I don’t think they’d do it again. Not with something as powerful as the elixir at stake, something that could make someone live for—” Piper clapped a hand over her mouth. That was it. She’d just solved it. “Teddy, all these riddles … all the solutions? They’re themed around the prize. Every answer somehow relates back to the elixir.”
“So the answer is … ?” Teddy’s face contorted with such confusion that the Fate cracked a smile.
“Life,” Piper said to the statue. “A life can be short or long, full or empty, and it is always in the process of ending.”
The Fate winked and returned to her original pose, glistening as she became solid. Like with the first statue, the Fate’s thread was now silver.
Piper and Teddy hurried on to the third statue and turned the key.
Unli
ke with her sisters, there was a calmness about the final Fate as she came to life. She regarded each ball of thread she pulled from her pocket with care, stretching a long section of string before she raised her shears. When she snipped the line, she flinched, as though the cut was a thing she could feel. She noticed Piper and Teddy watching, but did not greet them or ask about her sisters. She simply drew a new ball of thread and recited her riddle slowly, eyes never leaving her task.
“A burden, a shackle, a chain, a weight—
You’ll cross my path before too late.
And though you may be tempted by vengeance,
I will only be banished through pure acceptance.”
“Death?” Piper said to Teddy.
“That can’t be banished,” he pointed out. “Postponed, maybe, with medicine or operations, but not banished. Unless you have the elixir … But the riddle is phrased in a way that makes it sound like the answer would be true for any person.”
“In an everyday situation,” Piper agreed. “That’s how all the riddles have been.”
Together, they ran through everything that fit the theme of life and death and immortality.
Finally Teddy said, “Maybe you’re wrong about the theme, Piper. Maybe we should just try to approach it like any old riddle.”
She nodded, stumped. They sat at the edge of the pool, toes in the water, ruminating as the Fate’s shears snipped and cut.
“Guilt!” Teddy said suddenly. “Everyone feels guilty at one time or another, and it is totally a burden.”
“You don’t banish guilt, though; you have to make amends with what’s causing it. At least that’s what my aunt Eva would say.”
For a woman who ran ad campaigns, her aunt could have had a career as a therapist, Piper thought. She was practically freelancing as one already, always insisting that Piper move past her denial and anger if she ever wanted to make peace with Atticus’s diagnosis.
“Grief ends only with acceptance,” she was always telling Piper. “And even then it doesn’t truly end; you just make peace with what happened, even if it’s not fair. It might still hurt, but the grief will no longer be so heavy, so all-encompassing.”
