Steadfast(47)

Derisive laughter stopped short as Mateo rose to his feet; the jocks got weird expressions on their faces as they ducked inside. Okay, being laughed at was a lot less horrible than being feared. Mateo winced—the courtyard was paved with gravel, which cut icily into his bare feet, and he didn’t know how to even begin dealing with this. Call Dad? He hadn’t grabbed his phone as he sleepwalked out the door. Walk home through town? The rumors would spread like wildfire—not like they wouldn’t already, because the whole basketball team was probably texting up a storm—

“Mateo?” He turned again and saw a friendly face: Ms. Walsh, the guidance counselor. Nadia seemed worried about her, but right now she was smiling and taking off her own coat as she came toward him. “Are you okay?”

“I sleepwalk,” he said. It was the truth, at least a sliver of it.

“Ugh. What a pain. I used to do that sometimes when I was younger—though it’s been a while. One time I woke up in the shower of my college dorm.” Ms. Walsh draped her blue coat over his shoulders like this situation was the most natural thing in the world. Mateo felt kind of stupid wearing a woman’s coat, but way less stupid than he had parading around campus in his underwear. She patted his shoulder. “Good thing I came in early today. Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

“Thanks.” Mateo hoped Dad would sleep a little later than usual this morning—maybe he wouldn’t even have to know about this.

Ms. Walsh’s Mini Cooper was ridiculously small, but Mateo was able to fit inside, even though it was a bit cramped. He was grateful for the lift, even more grateful that Ms. Walsh immediately put on the heater and didn’t insist on awkward conversation. His mind wandered back to the horrible vision he’d had—a possible future, he knew. But as ever, he didn’t know how much of the vision was literal truth and how much was symbolic. Once magic got involved, it was a lot harder to tell all that apart.

When they reached his house, Ms. Walsh said, “Forgive the question, but you’re still seeing Nadia Caldani, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” Echoes of yesterday’s argument tugged at Mateo, but he knew his answer was true. Right now he was unsure how she felt about him—but he knew exactly how he felt about her.

“Let her know I’d like to see her, okay?”

That was a little odd, but right now, Mateo owed Ms. Walsh one, so he wasn’t going to get into it. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem.” She smiled like a woman with a secret. “We have to stick together, people like us.”


Elizabeth lay in the swath of fabric she used as a sort of bed. It hung in one corner, not unlike a hammock. The cloth was dusty and threadbare, and spiders had woven small webs around the spikes she’d hammered into the walls so long ago. All that mattered was that when she slept, she didn’t have to touch the floor.

Floors were dangerous. The spells that could catch you from below—she didn’t intend to fall prey to any of those.

The chill of autumn had begun to deepen. Frost lined the dawn-pink windowpanes. Snows came so much later now than they once had; Elizabeth could remember when it was not unusual to face the first winter storm in early October.

This room, though—this would be forever warm.

Elizabeth smiled at her metal stove, glowing with a fire that had nothing to do with combustion, brilliant in a way no darkness could ever dim. Its heat sank into her skin, working its magic, infusing her with everything she’d ever taken, everything she deserved.

The house began to creak and groan, as it sometimes did during a heavy storm—but the day promised to be bright. As Elizabeth lifted her head, the floor itself began to shake. The broken glass scattered about her floor began to skitter along the worn floorboards, and the glow from her stove brightened—brightened again—until it was nearly blinding.

Immediately Elizabeth dropped from her bed and went to her knees. Shards of broken glass pricked her flesh, drawing blood, but she paid the pain no mind. Instead she prostrated herself, accepting the blame.

“I will not disappoint you, my liege,” she whispered. The light burned her eyes, even through her closed eyelids. “Nadia Caldani will come to me. I swear it.”

The heat only intensified. His anger was growing; His impatience, too—this close to the end of His confinement, it was no wonder.

Nadia had something to give him that no one else did. Elizabeth understood. It wasn’t that Nadia was more important, more beloved—only that she was a necessary step.

Purpose restored, Elizabeth lifted her head, allowing the light and heat to sear her. This small punishment was no more than she deserved.

“Not long now,” she said. “I swear it.”

The burning heat slowly dissipated. Elizabeth opened her eyes; everything had a sort of faded, red-gold look, as though she had stared into the sun for too long. She could see the trickles of blood around her cut knees.

As she rose to her feet, her resolve strengthened. It would have been simpler to do this more gradually—less complicated, less prey to difficulty—but the One Beneath had already waited too long to claim this world for His own. Elizabeth would not be the one to make Him wait even longer.

Then let it come all at once. Let it claim who it will. Let it begin.





16


NADIA HADN’T FELT THIS WEIRD ABOUT WALKING INTO Rodman High since her first day. Although people buzzed around her, talking and laughing, she could feel their glances glaring on her like a spotlight. Or maybe not a spotlight—one of those lamps from old movies, the ones the 1940s cops shone on suspects to make them talk.