TWO DAYS LATER, ON THANKSGIVING, VERLAINE FELT halfway normal again.
Only halfway. Her heart still ached every time she thought about Asa. The more she thought about what Nadia had done, the more she believed it was both the bravest and stupidest thing she’d ever heard of. Uncle Gary was still in the hospital, just for observation, so as cute as it was to see him and Uncle Dave being sweet to each other, her house was still empty most of the time. (Well, except for Smuckers, but even the snuggliest cat in the whole world couldn’t make up for everything.)
More than that, Captive’s Sound was clearly not exactly what it had been. Although the quarantine was due to be lifted tomorrow, people were still penned in. Most Thanksgiving dinners in town this year would come out of cans: yuck. But the bigger worry was how suspicious people were. How they whispered among one another.
Everyone in town had seen just how strange things could get. How much longer could they deny the truth? How much longer would Elizabeth—and Nadia—remain hidden?
In midmorning, Verlaine put on her leopard-print coat and wrapped her white silk scarf around her head. Red lipstick, cat-eye sunglasses: perfect. She’d be overly chic for a Thanksgiving meal at the hospital cafeteria, but hey, at least that way it would feel like an occasion.
The land yacht was running on fumes, and Verlaine wasn’t due to get her gasoline ration until tomorrow, when the stupid rationing would be over anyway, but rules were rules. It was about a half-hour walk to the hospital; she could manage.
But the day was the coldest they’d had yet, the first one that really felt like winter. The low clouds overhead were ominously gray, and sure enough, just as Verlaine closed her front door, she saw a snowflake land on her sleeve, bright against the leopard print.
“Oh, sure. Send the first snow just when I have a long walk outside.” She scowled up at the sky—but really, she loved snow. The only question was whether she needed to trade in her beloved red Converse for snow boots. Not today, she figured, and she got started on her way.
As she walked along, she watched the soft fall of snow begin turning the town from its usual dingy, dilapidated state to the beautiful New England village it ought to have been. It was as though the snow erased the scars Elizabeth’s magic had left behind and made the world new.
If only it were that easy, she thought.
The flakes wheeling slowly down were big and fat, large enough that when one landed on her sunglasses, she had to stop and wipe the lenses with the end of her scarf. Verlaine glanced up as she moved to put them back on—and saw Asa standing in front of her.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. Quickly she stashed her sunglasses in her coat pocket. “You’re alive?”
“As alive as I ever was.” His cynical smile was a shadow of its former self, but she was glad to see it nonetheless. “Which is to say, not all that much. But I’m back. Will that do?”
Verlaine took a couple of steps toward him, then stopped short. “What happened to you?”
Asa shrugged. His sleek, black jacket should have been too thin for the cold, but his unearthly warmth must have protected him. The snowflakes seemed to melt as soon as they touched him. “The One Beneath doubted my loyalty. So he showed me the price of disobedience.”
She bit her lower lip. “The price?”
“Pain beyond imagining,” he said, so simply that it made her shudder. “For days on end. The agony is meant to blot out any memories of the mortal world, or any bonds we might have created there. It’s supposed to make us forget.”
“But you didn’t forget.” Verlaine stepped toward him. “You didn’t, or you wouldn’t be here now.”
Asa stepped closer to her. The snow beneath his feet melted instantly, leaving clear patches everywhere he’d stepped, and he seemed to be wreathed with wisps of fog. “No. I didn’t forget.”
Snowflakes caught on Verlaine’s eyelashes and kissed her cheeks with cold. She felt as though she could hardly breathe. “I’m sorry you had to suffer for me.”
“I’m not. Feeling all the pain was worth it, if it means I get to feel—everything else.”
Yet again she swayed toward him, but stopped herself. “Are you free? Can you ever be free?”
He shook his head. “The battle’s on now. The time draws near. As they command, I must obey. If they ask me to kill you, I’ll have to do it.” His voice choked off; it was the first moment that Verlaine realized he was as overwhelmed as she. “After that they wouldn’t have to send me to hell. Every single second would be hell to me.”
“. . . As touching as that is, in that scenario, I’m actually more worried about me.”
Asa laughed in what seemed to be genuine delight. “That’s the greatest thing about you. No matter how the world tries to beat you down, you always stay focused on what matters most.” The wind tugged at the edges of his black scarf; the way it rippled reminded her of his shadow being torn apart. “Forget me, Verlaine. It’s the only way. And if I ever have to come for you, kill me with my blessing. I can’t think of a better way to die.”
“So, that’s it.” Verlaine’s astonishment had been electrified into anger, and into something else she could hardly define, but it quickened her pulse, burned along her skin, shrank the entire world down to her and Asa in the middle of the swirling whiteness. “That’s all we get. The little time we’ve had is all we’ll ever have.”
“Afraid so.” He studied her so intently that she could no longer feel the cold. “But—if I might beg one favor—would you allow me one moment out of time?”
Verlaine took a deep breath, then nodded.
Asa clapped his hands together, and time came to a stop. Snowflakes hovered in all around them, frozen in place, making the whole world sparkle softly. He walked toward her, feet crunching on the snow now, because it couldn’t melt without time, even though she could feel the heat of him coming closer. Then Asa took her in his arms.
The kiss was her first. Her only. Verlaine hadn’t expected to react like this—going hot and cold at once, forgetting everything else, allowing every thought in her mind to slip away until she didn’t know anyone or anything besides Asa. His mouth opened against hers, and she would have cried out, except that the sound was muffled by his kiss. Her arms slid around his waist as his hands came up to cradle her face.
So warm, she thought in a daze. Like we’re in the heart of a fire.
Even though she knew this could never be, she couldn’t be sad. Couldn’t be angry. Verlaine’s entire heart sang with happiness, and that happiness felt like the only thing that had ever been true.
They broke apart. She gasped for breath. Asa looked nearly as shaken as she felt. For a long moment neither of them could speak. Then he pulled back his hands and brought them together; time began again, and the snow resumed its gentle, swirling descent.
Asa’s thumb brushed against her cheek, drawing a soft arc of heat. He whispered, “Kill me if you can.”
And then he was gone—almost faster than the eye could see.
Once again she stood alone, the hospital still several minutes’ walk away. She stared down at the bare places where he’d melted the snow, but the fresh flakes were already erasing those traces as though they’d never been.
Mateo’s dad was still too nervous about the “seizure” to let Mateo mop the floors; that was pretty much it for a silver lining. But he still had to help out as La Catrina prepared to reopen. Today he was more or less alone in front, replacing the fall menu inserts with the ones for winter.
As he sat in one of the booths, patiently getting through the tedious job, he heard the front-door bells jingle. “Sorry, still closed,” he called out—then saw that it was Faye Walsh standing at the door.
“Bad time?” she said.
“Uh, no.” Though he was caught off-guard, Mateo decided to seize the moment. “Listen, you know Nadia only turned to Elizabeth because she had to.”
“Yes.” Faye walked closer. “But I also know she turned to Elizabeth, and that’s not a path you turn back from.”
“Don’t doubt her. Nadia’s stronger than you realize.”
“Evil is stronger than you realize. But we’re lucky, Mateo. There’s more to being a Steadfast than seeing magic, or helping our witches. More to it than even most witches know.”
Hope sprang up inside him. “Do we have magic of our own?” That would explain what had happened with Gage, surely.
But Faye shook her head. “That’s not how it works. We have one power more valuable than any other, Mateo. We can make our witches stronger. But we also can be the only check on a witch’s power. A witch’s Steadfast can be the only thing between her and ultimate darkness.”
He remembered the powerful spells in her mother’s Book of Shadows. “Is that what you had to do?”
Faye didn’t answer. “If I teach you the way to weaken Nadia’s powers—to destroy them—will you do it?”
A Steadfast could do that? Mateo had never dreamed that could even be possible. To destroy Nadia’s power . . .
“No,” he said. “I won’t.”
Faye smiled then, and somehow the expression was kind. “There might come a point when she’d wish you had.”
“I trust Nadia. I believe in her.”
“I know you do.” She patted his shoulder before heading back to the door. “But if you change your mind—”
The bells jingled, and she was gone. Mateo sat there for a long moment. He knew he would never turn on Nadia, no matter what.
But if he had to kill Elizabeth to save Nadia—if he had to become a murderer, risk his own soul the way Nadia was risking hers—he could do it.
Across town, a few hours later, Nadia made her own journey on foot.
Her family had done their Thanksgiving meal at lunchtime. Since the elementary-school pageant had never occurred due to bird interference, Cole had given his mashed-potato speech to her and Dad; they’d applauded while he took his bows. Since the quarantine hadn’t lifted in time to get makings for the traditional turkey and stuffing, they’d improvised based on what she’d been able to find in the back corners of the pantry. If pad thai wasn’t a proper Thanksgiving meal, well, it ought to be.
In every way, her day had seemed totally normal. Everyone was in a better mood now that the sick had gotten well, and now that people could go in and out of town freely. Cole would have nightmares about birds for a long time to come, but he was doing okay, she thought, and Dad was in better spirits than he’d been all month. Nadia had smiled and pretended to celebrate along with them, but inside her heart was dying.
Every moment, she longed for Mateo. Every hour, she wanted to be with him. They still texted each other and spoke on the phone—that much was okay—but Nadia knew she had to stay away as much as possible. Just a few days in, and already that burden seemed unbearable.
But she would bear it. The only alternative was to give up any hope of seeing Mateo again, and that was something she’d never do.
Even worse was the knowledge of what waited for her now. Yet Nadia walked on, trudging through the deepening snow, until she reached Elizabeth’s house.
While so many of the other windows of homes in town glowed almost golden, hinting at the family celebrations going on inside, Elizabeth’s house remained gray and cold. Nadia walked up the steps, feeling vaguely sick, and forced herself to knock on the door.
It swung open of its own accord. Nadia stepped inside cautiously, remembering the last time she’d been in this house—when Elizabeth’s Book of Shadows had tried to kill her. But nothing attacked this time. Even the spiders seemed to have skittered off. The house remained utterly derelict inside, though some of the broken glass had been kicked aside.
Elizabeth sat in the middle of the floor, her Book of Shadows open in front of her. She didn’t look up. “I had expected you before.”
“You didn’t say when to come.”
“The One Beneath needs us,” Elizabeth said. She glanced up, only her eyes moving. “You will learn to divine His purpose. You’ll learn a great deal these next few weeks.”
Nadia hesitated. “Why do you say ‘these next few weeks’?”
“That’s all the time this world has left. What comes after, during His glorious reign—we’ll discover that together, you and I.”
Despair clawed at Nadia’s heart, but she refused to give way to it. Everything she learned now could turn into something she might use against Elizabeth later. Until the bitter end, there could always, always be hope.
Yes, she’d given up so much to be here—but her mother’s words echoed in her mind, giving her comfort: Sacrifices have their own power.
She could only hope her sacrifices would be enough.
Nadia sat beside Elizabeth, who smiled in satisfaction and said, “Let us begin.”