Steadfast(78)

But they were close on her now—shouts and footsteps an ever-increasing roar behind her—and Verlaine nearly gave way to panic.

She flung open the door that would lead her toward the elevator and dashed through, then skidded to a stop.

Asa stood there. Verlaine didn’t even have to wonder why he’d come; Elizabeth had sensed some small part of their plan and sent her demon henchman to keep it from unfolding. And now Asa could trap her, right where the mob could tear her apart.

As the winds on the sound picked up, so did the waves. Nadia clung to the weather-beaten white stucco of the lighthouse as water crashed right at her feet. Sea spray soaked her clothes, heightened the chill.

Now or never, Nadia decided.

Hand on the garnet on her bracelet, she summoned the ingredients for the spell:

Soothing the nightmare of a child.

Healing a wound that struck deep.

Forgiving what could not be forgiven.



Once again the ground rumbled. Nadia glanced toward the dark, choppy ocean; even she could see hints of the bridge now. The One Beneath was so very close.

Holding Cole in her arms, rocking him back and forth, whispering that there were no monsters outside, no monsters at all, not while his big sister was here to protect him.

A morning about three weeks after Mom had left, when they were all eating cereal in the kitchen without saying a word, and then a stupid old disco song from when Dad was little came on the radio, and he started singing and Cole started laughing and before Nadia knew it, she and her dad were doing the stupidest dance they could think of, just because it felt so good to have fun again.

Crying quietly on the bus in Chicago, telling herself over and over again that Mom had done what she’d done for love, and feeling a terrible weight finally lift from her after far too long.

The power of it rippled through Nadia, shaking her even more savagely than the quakes had. And yet it didn’t scare her; it didn’t hurt. This was white magic—stronger and more transformative than she’d ever worked before. It felt like celebration, like sunlight. It felt sweeter than anything she’d ever known except love.

Nadia opened her eyes. Had it worked?

Before she could even cast one of the spells that would allow her to learn the truth, her phone chimed with a text. With cold, numb hands, she fished her phone from her pocket, hoping for a message from Verlaine that everyone at the hospital had already begun to heal.

Instead the text was from Faye. Gage is in Elizabeth’s thrall. He’s dangerous & can’t help it. He could be coming after any of us. I’m going to warn Mateo.

Elizabeth had created a thrall? She’d done that to Gage? Nadia was torn between horror for Gage’s plight and an even greater fear for Mateo’s safety. And Verlaine—Gage might go after her, too. She had to get to them as fast as possible.

Was it safe to take the rowboat back to shore? The storm hadn’t let up, but it might not right away. Yet the waters seemed to churn even stronger—the foam splashing up toward her feet—

—no, not splashing, crawling—

She cried out as the water swirled up into a column so dark it glinted like obsidian, until it splash-shattered into a human form. Elizabeth stood in front of her, chin high, expression mocking.

Before it had seemed as though Elizabeth was getting more bedraggled and weak by the day. Now she was glorious. Light almost seemed to shine from her skin, and the scars and dirt of the world couldn’t even touch her.

“Your interference is no longer amusing,” Elizabeth said.

Nadia could hardly speak or think. “How did you do that?” Surely Elizabeth hadn’t always possessed that kind of power, the ability to move herself in supernatural ways. How had she broken the bonds of physical reality?

“I grow stronger as my love comes closer. When He arrives, I will share in His power. And He is very close to arriving, try though you will to stop Him.” The wind caught Elizabeth’s curls, twisting them behind her like snakes. “Let us reckon, you and I.”





26


MATEO LAY IN HIS BED, TWISTING AND TURNING, HANDS clenched into fists hard enough to hurt. That helped keep him focused, but not enough.

He pushed himself off the mattress—or was that a boat? A boat carrying him and Nadia, bobbing treacherously on the waves growing higher by the moment—and fell in a crouch on the floor. Breathing hard, he tried not to look at the visions in front of him. (Nadia by the lighthouse, falling to her knees in front of the triumphant Elizabeth.) Instead he tried to concentrate only on the feel of the floor beneath his hands and knees as he crawled toward the place where he knew his dresser must be.

With one sweaty hand, he reached out and found the sharp corner of the wood. Mateo drew his arm back, then swung it as hard as he could.

Crack! He sucked in a sharp breath, but with pain came clarity. By smashing his forearm against the dresser, he’d earned himself a throbbing, red mark that would soon be an ugly bruise, but that didn’t matter. The only important thing was making sense of the visions he was seeing, so that he could help protect Nadia.

Panting, Mateo leaned back against the wall. Another dream surrounded him already, but the combination of Nadia’s spell and the ache from his arm allowed him to watch it as if from the outside—like he was watching a movie.

Elizabeth lifted her hands high, and it was as though the enormous waves behind her rippled and crashed at her command. Yet he could sense the energy emanating from her, feel it curling and growing like the tendrils of vines, until they snaked around the throats of every sick person, stealing breath and life—