SOFI
The stress of the past few weeks was nothing on what I felt in the aftermath of the revelations at the Council meeting. The bond that had been forged between the four of us—five if you considered Stephen as part of our ragtag group of magical misfits, which I assuredly did not—began to show the strain.
Our new understanding of what exactly had happened to those two poor Council members who had performed the spell on the ear of corn caused bile to rise in my throat every time I thought about it. The ramifications of what would happen if the entire village gathered to cast magic on the crops at Midsummer were terrifying to consider. The souls of all the Vaikesti—destroyed. My parents. My friends. My family. Inevitable death for everyone I’d ever known or cared about.
The excitement and camaraderie of working together on trying new spells and solving shared problems devolved into bickering and pointless stress-fueled squabbles. Mirtel, Darja, and I, at least, agreed that our priority had to be stopping the community-wide disaster that loomed only a few short weeks away, though figuring out how to do that was an exercise in futility.
We lost days in squabbling, nerves ratcheting higher with every moment that passed.
Mirtel was convinced our answer would be found in the spell book, and spent all her time scouring the entries for anything that might help us. She insisted we needed Stephen’s help since he was more familiar with the material than the rest of us, which Darja and I both adamantly refused.
For my part, I was convinced Jared was our best bet, and we should ask him for help in talking sense into the Town Council. If we told him everything, he’d help us, right? He’d have to. Darja and Mirtel both shot this down.
Darja was convinced I needed to talk to my father, because he had the power to put a stop to this, but I refused. I was avoiding my father at all costs—she hadn’t seen his eyes when I’d slipped up and said her name at the town meeting.
When our voices rose over each others for the thousandth time, each of us arguing the same points to the same unyielding audience, Aggie finally spoke for the first time, commenting in a toneless, offhand voice that maybe we should just let it happen, maybe the world would be better off if the Vaikesti were left to destroy themselves. I heard Mirtel’s breath hitch in the shocked silence that followed, looked up into Aggie’s cold, unfeeling face and over to Darja’s unreadable expression, and suddenly I’d had enough. I paused only long enough to grab my keys from the tiny kitchen table before storming out of the wagon.
No one followed me.
“I don’t need them.”
I growled the words, a mantra to…convince myself? Reassure myself?
Whatever. It didn’t matter. They could do whatever they wanted. Mirtel could bury herself in translated spells to her heart’s content, searching for something that didn’t exist. I wouldn’t stop her. Darja could stay with Aggie and rejoice over the deaths of everyone I knew, for all I cared. I was going to do something. I was going to figure out how to stop this.
I did the only thing I could think of, I went to see Jared. If I told him everything—everything—would he believe me? The thought of spilling all of our secrets to an outsider, even one who had grown up with the Vaikesti, made my stomach twist. We’d tried that with Stephen, and look how that had turned out. But what other options did I have? I needed help.
When I pushed through the door to the police station, Jared was at the front desk, talking with the receptionist. Both their eyes went wide when they saw me, and Jared straightened, his eyebrows climbing as he took me in.
“Sofi? Oh my God, are you all right?”
I paused for the first time to consider how I might look. I hadn’t been home since the meeting just over a week ago. I’d been camping out on the cramped sofa in Mirtel’s wagon, wearing the same clothes. I hadn’t seen a hairbrush in days. My appearance was probably pretty rough, and I didn’t want to think about how I might smell.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, not at all sure my voice matched my words. “Can we talk? In private?”
“Of course,” he said quickly, and his arm came around me, hand resting supportively at my lower back. I nearly sagged at the contact, the strength of his arm holding me up. The idea of pouring out all my troubles and letting someone else be strong for a change was so enticing.
We’d only just turned and he’d begun to usher me toward his father’s office when a voice rang out behind us, cold and filled with steel, and I froze in place.
“Sofia.”
The warmth of Jared’s hand fell away as I turned to face my father. His face was the same, familiar face I’d known my whole lifetime, dark blond hair over a wide brow. Pointed nose, smooth-shaven square jaw. But his eyes were enigmatic, his expression unreadable, and the contrast between the familiar man and the unfamiliar twist of fear I felt in his presence was unsettling.
“We haven’t seen you at home recently,” he said. “Your mother is worried. Could you come talk with me for a few minutes in my office?”
“I need to talk with Jared,” I said weakly, glancing toward my would-be savior, but whatever message I was trying to convey telepathically was lost on him.
“I’ll be here all afternoon,” Jared informed me with a smile. “Just come back when you’re done with your dad.”
Before I had a chance to protest, my father’s hand locked around my upper arm like a manacle, and he started to move away, leaving me no choice but to stumble after.
His strides were long, and I had to hurry to keep up as he marched us across the atrium and into his office, the door banging shut behind us. Despite the hour, the office was empty, and my heart sank. No patients or nurses present to provide a buffer.
Only when he had led me into his office and shut the door did he release my arm, and I sank into one of the thick leather chairs by his desk.
Rather than round the desk, he took the matching leather chair beside me, then turned to face me and leaned in close. I tried not to shrink back. He was my father, I reminded myself.
He wasted no time.
“Is she here right now?”
I did lean back then, pushing my spine into the cool leather of the chair.
“Who?” My voice came out in an unconvincing whisper.
When he slammed his fist down on the desk it took me completely by surprise, and I flinched, my throat tightening with shock.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Sofi, this is too important.” He leaned forward even more, and his eyes burned into mine. His next words came out a little breathless. “It worked, didn’t it? The bond? How did you make it work? Why didn’t you tell us?”
At that, my tongue finally loosened. “Tell you?” The words came out in a bit more of a shriek than I’d intended. “Tell you what? That your inhumane murder ritual worked? That you’ve ruined my life?”
“Ruined your life,” my father scoffed, sitting back in his seat. “Sofi, you’re so young, and I know it’s hard for you to see this, but it really isn’t about you. This is for the greater good of our entire community. If you had told us earlier, we could have—”
“Could have what?” I demanded. “Made it worse? You already have no idea what you’re doing with the spells in that book. This isn’t for the greater good. I’m the one who’s trying to stop you from destroying the community.”
“Ah yes, the book.” He turned his bright eyes on me again. “That was you, too, wasn’t it? Wherever did you find it? Really, Sofi, we should be thanking you. You have no idea the service you’ve done in having it translated.”
“No, you don’t understand.” I blew out a breath.
Darja had been the one insisting I should talk to my father. Well, here he was. She wouldn’t be able to say I hadn’t tried.
“Listen to me,” I said, scooting forward in my chair. “We saw the spell from the town meeting. Darja was there too. We both saw it.”
His eyes widened and he drew in a breath, as if he’d known it was true, but hadn’t been quite able to believe it without my confirmation.
“The magic doesn’t work the way you think,” I continued on in a rush, stumbling over myself in an effort to get the words out. “The spells have to be read by bonded pairs. The magic draws through the dead half of the pair, from the earth, from, from—” Dammit, how could I explain something I barely understood? I pushed on regardless. “When you have two living people recite a spell, there’s no link for the magic to come through. It comes from the person’s soul. It kills them!”
“Both Henri and Marleen are fine. It didn’t kill anyone,” my father said, raising an eyebrow.
“Not yet, but it will,” I insisted. “And their souls—”
“Sofi,” he broke in, his voice suddenly gentle, “I know you don’t want to share this magic. I understand that. It’s hard to be the youngest child, isn’t it? Never anything new of your own, always in your sibling’s shadows.”
“What? No—”
“And then something amazing happens, just to you. I know you want to hold on to that. Keep it for yourself. But this is bigger than you. It’s bigger than me. You saw what it did for that single stalk of corn. Imagine what it could do for a field. For the whole community.”
I spluttered, barely able to form words.
“You aren’t doing this for the community,” I spat. “If you cared about them at all, you’d listen to me. This is purely selfish.” My voice dropped low as anger seethed through me. “We know, by the way. What you did. To Darja’s mother.”
He froze.
“I know who you are,” I snarled, unable to stop myself. “Does Mom know?”
I’d crossed a line, I knew it, but it was too late to take back the words. His eyes went black and his expression shuttered like a wall falling into place.
“That’s enough.”
He rose, and I shrank back into my chair for a brief second as he loomed over me, my heart pounding as if I’d just run a marathon. He stalked around to the inside of the desk and yanked open one of the drawers, then bent over it as he reached deep inside.
“You don’t even know the gift you’ve been given,” he said in an icy voice. “And one way or another, you will use it to help us.”
He straightened, and the brown eyes that bored into mine were cold and unfamiliar. Onto the top of the desk he laid a tray, neatly arranged with a pair of gloves, alcohol swabs, and a series of small vials. Next to them gleamed a syringe.
All the air left my lungs in a rush, and I scrambled to my feet, but he was faster. He was around the desk and between me and the door in a flash.
I opened my mouth to yell, not that there was anyone to hear me. A heartbeat later, Darja flickered into existence.
“Sofi, you need to come quick. Mirtel’s found something, a spell, and—what the hell is going on here?” Her transparent eyes took in the tray on the desk, the wild eyes and posture of my dad blocking the doorway, and whatever was on my own face.
“Darja,” I squeaked, and my father’s eyes swung to my face, then followed my gaze, triumph passing over his features.
“She’s here,” he breathed.
With his attention momentarily diverted, I grabbed the tray from the desk and swung it at my father. It hit him square across the face, supplies scattering, and a dull clang echoed from the metal.
“Go,” Darja gasped, and I did, shoving past my father and wrenching open the door even as his hand came up to grasp at my arm.
The fabric of my shirt slipped through his fingers as I scrambled out into the hallway, Darja on my heels.
Choking on the panic that coursed through my bloodstream, I ran.