Steadfast(72)

When the bell rang for third period, Nadia dashed into the hallway. Through the scanty group of students still attending full time, she caught a glimpse of a fuzzy, pink sweater over a wide, white circle skirt—pure 1950s. “Verlaine!”

Verlaine turned from her locker, at first merely blasé, but her expression shifted into concern as Nadia pushed toward her. “Oh, crap. What’s happening now?”

“I’m not sure, but we have to get to Mateo, this instant.”

“Sounds like a good excuse to skip.” Verlaine shoved her books back in her locker and slammed it shut. “To the Batmobile.”

That was when the ground began to shake.

Nadia gasped and put her arms out, the better to hang on to the wall of lockers—but they were squeaking wildly, shaking open, sending heavy textbooks and tons of crap flying. Verlaine took her hand and pulled her back toward the center of the hall.

“Earthquake!” someone yelled.

“Since when can Elizabeth make earthquakes?” Verlaine huddled on the floor next to Nadia, both of them putting their hands over their heads just like in those stupid drills.

“She can’t.” Some things were beyond even the power of witchcraft. “But the One Beneath can.”

After only a few moments, though, the tremors stopped. The school still seemed to be in one piece, though people were crying and freaking out. “Forget about skipping,” Nadia said as she and Verlaine rose slowly to their feet. Plaster dust had fogged the air. “I think school’s out.”

Verlaine coughed once. “Okay, even if you didn’t know about witchcraft? You’d have to know this whole situation is severely screwed up.”

She was right, Nadia realized. It took very little to veil the world of witchcraft from everyday people simply because they were so quick to explain away deviations from the norm. To convince themselves they hadn’t seen something that would make them question the reality they knew. But Elizabeth and the One Beneath were abandoning even that faint pretense. They meant to terrify. They meant to be known.

“Come on,” Nadia said. “Whatever’s going on, it’s happening to Mateo.”

Together they ran for the doors, but they swung open just before Nadia and Verlaine would have slammed through. Faye Walsh stood there, her once-pristine white sweater twinset now grubby with dust and debris. “Excuse us,” Verlaine said as she tried to duck past, but Ms. Walsh put out her hand, halting them in their tracks.

“We need to talk,” Ms. Walsh said. “Nadia, I’ve been trying to talk to you for a long time.”

Nadia forced herself not to scream with frustration. “Yes, ma’am, I know, and I’m sorry, but honestly—is this the time?”

“Oh, yes. It’s time.” Ms. Walsh crossed her arms. “When I see evidence of witchcraft, I want to talk to a witch.”





24


AT FIRST NADIA COULD ONLY GAPE AT MS. WALSH. WHEN she could speak, she said the only thing she could think of: “You’re not a witch.”

“No, I’m not,” Ms. Walsh said. “But my mother was, and my grandmother before her. They taught me the signs. Bound me close. Made me a Steadfast.”


“You’re a Steadfast?” Verlaine, who had been looking even more panicked than Nadia felt, brightened, but only for a moment. “Wait. If your mom and grandmother were witches, why aren’t you one?”

Ms. Walsh stiffened slightly; this was a difficult subject. “I didn’t have the gift. It happens that way sometimes.”

Verlaine nodded. “Oh, so you’re a Squib.”

“No Harry Potter stuff,” Nadia said hurriedly. “I keep telling you. Witches hate that.” Her initial shock began to shake away; now she could only think of Mateo. “My Steadfast is in trouble right now. Come with us. We’ll talk on the way.”

“She’s not your Steadfast?” Ms. Walsh said, looking at Verlaine.

“Everyone thinks that,” Verlaine said. “Understandable mistake. But wow, are you in for a surprise.” She took Ms. Walsh’s arm and began ushering them out of the school building. With the postquake chaos, nobody would notice their departure—and besides, Nadia thought, they were leaving with a faculty member.

“You know this isn’t me,” Nadia said as their steps quickened to a jog at the edge of the parking lot. “The sickness, the destruction, any of it.”

Ms. Walsh replied, “That’s Elizabeth Pike. Is she doing what I think she’s doing?”

“If you think she’s trying to turn Captive’s Sound into the gateway to hell itself?” Nadia said. “Then yes.”

It turned out Ms. Walsh could run fast enough to keep up with them at full speed, even in her high heels.

They found Mateo in the back alley behind La Catrina. He lay on the cold pavement, not unconscious but in a stupor; his cell phone had fallen from his hand. A stray cat watched from the far steps as they struggled to get him inside.

Nadia’s hands shook as she sifted through the under-the-bar first-aid kit and found a shiny, silver emergency blanket; she wrapped it around Mateo, who now lay on one of the long, leather booths. Verlaine held his head, and Ms. Walsh his feet.

“A male Steadfast,” Ms. Walsh said as she looked down at him. “Unbelievable.”