Steadfast(70)

As he locked the door, though, he realized that he’d miss his shifts at La Catrina. Was it possible he actually liked it?

You’re just turning into mush today, Mateo told himself. He remembered last night, holding Nadia in front of the fire. Just the memory of the way she’d felt against him made his gut tighten, his heart turn over—

The light blazed around him, through him, making him stagger backward against his bike. All around Mateo, the world seemed to bend and break.

What the hell? He fumbled for his phone, thinking he had to call Nadia and tell her something serious had gone wrong. But then images took shape in the light, images that moved and spoke, and he realized that they weren’t the work of his Steadfast power. They were dreams.

His curse had broken free from sleep, and had sent the visions to torment him even now.

Nadia by the waves, wind whipping at her hair, screaming, “You don’t own me! You’ll never own me!”

Verlaine surrounded by the fires of hell itself.

Elizabeth with her arms outstretched, a smile on her face, triumphant.

Mateo tried to tell himself that none of it was real. He understood that the visions were only images of what could be—and yet he couldn’t make out the shapes of the buildings and cars around him, couldn’t even be sure that was really the ground beneath his feet. He slumped down until he fell, or seemed to fall; he couldn’t be sure.

The crow continued circling. Elizabeth held up her hand, sending her power into it, and thought, The little children.

Once again, it fluttered in the sky, uncertain. It was like shooting a bow and arrow, Elizabeth thought, and the crow was the bowstring being plucked. Its feeble life directed her weapon and gave it speed as it flew toward its target.

But she didn’t need the bird to lead her to the place she’d strike next. She was already there.

Elizabeth stood in front of Nadia Caldani’s house and smiled.

“Okay, where’s our pecan pie?” The substitute teacher, who was really nice but really old, kept looking through all the kids. Who was pecan pie again? Cole couldn’t remember. All he knew was that his costume was the very best one.

“Mine’s stupid,” Levi said. His mom had just put him in a brown sweater and pants and hung a sign around his neck that said GRAVY.

It was definitely stupid, but Cole knew better than to say so. He tried to sound cheerful as he said, “It’s okay.” Also, he couldn’t help thinking that at least Levi could go to the bathroom without having to ask someone to help him get out of his costume. Cole was starting to think he’d have to ask really soon, but he was embarrassed, and the teacher seemed like she was too busy.

Well, Dad would get here in a few minutes. All the parents would come to the pageant, and he could just go to the bathroom then, when Dad would take him.

He shifted from leg to leg and hoped Dad would get there before the pageant started.

The girl at the window—Abigail, in her cranberry-sauce outfit—started shrieking. Cole turned and saw all the birds. There were hundreds of them, hundreds and thousands, and at the sound of Abigail’s screams they began hurling themselves against the window.

Cole screamed, too. So did most of the kids. But he could still hear beaks and feet scrabbling against the glass, see their wings beating so hard, like they could save themselves. It was like they were flying into the window, but Cole somehow knew they were being thrown. That they were in pain, dying, afraid, but they couldn’t stop.

They couldn’t stop until they got through.

One pane of glass cracked, and it sounded like lightning.

Elizabeth raised her hand to knock, but she didn’t even get the chance. Mr. Caldani opened the door. He was nicely dressed, and in his hand he held one of those “cameras” people now had, which captured the illusion of an event for viewing later. Perhaps he was going to see his small son.

Or he’d been planning to anyway. His afternoon was going to go quite differently. This afternoon would make him her possession, and give Elizabeth her best, sharpest weapon against Nadia’s heart.

She managed not to laugh.

“Hi,” she murmured. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Oh. I—no. Of course not. No.”


“Can I come in?” Elizabeth stepped over the threshold without waiting for an answer. Mr. Caldani looked as if he wanted to object, but her enchantments kept him silent and struggling.

She was close enough now for him to smell her skin. Elizabeth willed him to feel the warmth of her—to believe she was the only warmth in this entire cold, useless world—to think he’d been alone forever and that he couldn’t bear it one moment more.

Elizabeth smiled up at him, almost conspiratorial. “Shouldn’t you shut the door?”

He had to know that was an invitation. He had to know precisely what she was inviting him to do.

Still Mr. Caldani backed away. Still he fought to hold on to his decency—it was almost sweet. “Nadia’s not here.” He had begun to sound desperate. “You can probably find her at school.”

“I’m not here for Nadia.” With that she raised her hand, two fingers touching his shoulder, and she unleashed a spell of desire no man could resist. . . .

Violet light flashed. Mr. Caldani blinked, straightened up, and was affected by her no longer. If he even remembered wanting her, there was no sign. “Elizabeth, I’m afraid I have to go. My son’s in a school play. And besides, I think you should only come by when Nadia’s invited you. Don’t you agree?”