Steadfast(32)

Instantly she called upon a spell of repulsion. The fog dissipated in an instant, and Elizabeth gaped in shock at Nadia’s audacity. That child had thought to undo her with one of the most basic spells . . . and had she not been warned, it could even have worked. The memories Nadia had selected must have been strong; no doubt she was on a bridge or in a boat, using the fluidity of the water to strengthen her magic further. It really could have worked, which enraged Elizabeth.

And yet she was reminded: Simplicity was sometimes the best weapon.

So Elizabeth cradled her Book of Shadows in her arms as she rose to her feet again and cast another very simple spell: a spell to move water.

“Did it work?” Verlaine cried.

“I’m not sure,” Nadia said. The wind was so sharp she felt as though it were trying to carve her flesh from her bones. Yet still she didn’t budge. It seemed to her as though she ought to feel some change in this town, some sign that Elizabeth had been affected.

Then she felt the bridge rock beneath her feet. She staggered to one side and heard Verlaine cry out.

“Nadia?” Mateo called. The bridge swayed again, as though it were a horse trying to buck them off. “The waves are higher—it’s like the tide’s trying to come in all at once!”

It didn’t work, Nadia realized. Elizabeth knows. She’s doing this.

And the bridge collapsed.





11


NADIA DIDN’T SO MUCH FALL OFF THE BRIDGE AS FALL through it. Wood splintered around her, metal scraped her skin, and then ice-cold water splashed over her, surrounded her, dragged her down.

Despite her terror, Nadia stayed focused; she’d been a lifeguard once, and she was a strong enough swimmer to propel herself even through this mess. When she broke the surface, though, jagged metal stuck up in all directions, and broken boards littered the water. “Mateo!” she screamed. “Verlaine!”

Then she saw a flash of silver white—Verlaine’s wet hair, slicked down her head and back like a veil, as Verlaine pulled herself onto dry ground. The spell she’d cast had left a powerful magical resonance—that and whatever Elizabeth had cast—because for one moment, when Nadia looked at Verlaine, she saw her.

Really saw her. For one split second, Nadia looked at Verlaine without dark magic in the way and knew just how much she loved her friend, how good Verlaine had been to fight with her all this time.

“Verlaine—” she whispered, overcome by such overwhelming emotion that it outweighed everything else . . . until she heard Mateo splashing behind her.

Nadia turned back and saw him struggling in the water; it looked like his clothes were caught on something, keeping him from getting to safety. She swam to him, ignoring the boards that scraped her flesh, until they were side by side. Together they were able to tug him free and make it to shore.

All three of them ran, teeth chattering, back to Verlaine’s car. She turned on the heater, which was some help, but for a few long seconds they just sat there trying to thaw out enough to speak.

“We—we should go—to my place,” Mateo managed to say. “Dad’s working. You guys can—change into some of my sweatpants. Something like that.”

“Good thinking,” Verlaine said as she hugged herself tightly. “Uncle Dave and Uncle Gary wouldn’t know what to think if I came in like this. Nadia, I take it our plunge in the sound means the spell didn’t work?”

“She stopped me,” Nadia said, and it was so hard to admit it out loud, even when they all knew it already.

Mateo simply put his arm around her and said, “We knew it probably wouldn’t be that easy.”

Nadia just shrugged. She was still too upset to say anything else.

It wasn’t that Elizabeth had beaten her. Although Nadia had hoped to win, she had known all along that defeat was a strong possibility. What hurt worst was that Elizabeth had shut her down in seconds. The best plan Nadia had been able to come up with—for Elizabeth, it had probably been no more than an annoyance.

Lifting her face to her friends, Nadia tried to brace herself for their disappointment. But Mateo smiled at her like he knew everything in her heart and wanted to make it better for her if he could. He couldn’t, but Nadia loved that he wanted to try.

Meanwhile, Verlaine wrung water out of her long hair and sighed. “Well, this sucked.”

During his brief time in Captive’s Sound, Asa had sized up Kendall Bender as—insubstantial. Not terribly bright, not stupid, enamored of her own judgment: an entirely ordinary human being. But grief had awakened something else in her, something entirely individual.

The girl seemed to be in a daze as she wandered through the hallway, despite all the balloons and stuffed animals decorating her locker, despite all the questions about her sister. Her sandy hair wasn’t even brushed. Probably she’d come to school straight from the hospital.

Asa stood very near the now-unused chemistry lab. (The school had closed it due to potential contamination, though nobody could say what the contamination might be. Instead the class sat in study hall and watched “science documentaries,” which were mostly designed to amuse the brain-dead.) He was close enough to feel the enormous power lurking there—the wild, dark energy not far below the surface. It reminded Asa of pain. It reminded him of home.

Yet that darkness did not reach out to him, nor would it ever. The One Beneath did not speak to mere slaves.