Storm (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Penelope

On Monday, Lindley Arthur’s funeral is packed with witches, Nons, fans, and media coverage. I’d never met the woman before the hospital a few weeks ago, but her books are treasured by the world. I even read one or two of the ones about the little rabbit that wanted to be a duck. But apparently Gran knew her. So, she and Pop and I are packed in a pew along with what feels like every other witch in the tri-state area. There’s a tension in the air because the room is aware she died three days ago when some Enforcers marked her.

My tension comes completely from being here with all these witches. The void has been bending more to my des
ires, but it’s still unpredictable. If I lost control in in here…

Out of habit now I rub my fingers around my wrist. The guilt washes through me. I survived and she didn’t. More won’t. They wouldn’t even need to be marked if not for me.

“Take off that ridiculous sweater,” Gran says to me, tugging at my black cardigan.

Panic starts to bubble in my stomach, because even though the blackness is glamoured, it could disappear at any moment. I haven’t seen Lia today. With the way I’ve been using the void, the colors have spread. The possibility that someone could see if wears off is too much.
No. No strong emotions. Turn them off. Don’t feel anything.

“Gran, stop it,” I say. I try to twist in the seat to show her how impossible it would be to move my arms.

“You’ve got to be burning up.”

She’s still fiddling with my sweater. Pulling at the sleeve and the center where it buttons, trying to maneuver it off. I force down the magic or the fear or whatever it is that comes creeping up.

“Gran, let go of me.” But she doesn’t. With her pulling at my sweater, the people crowded in around me, and the anxiety and magic inside me, I’m going to lose it. “God, just stop it already.” I hiss through my teeth and jerk away from her.

Gran’s face shifts into a look of surprise, and she drops her hand from me immediately. “What’s wrong with you?”

I groan in response, pulling my finally freed sweater closer to myself and shifting away from her. My hands are in my lap, fingernails pressing into my palm against the magic building. I can’t lose control in this room. I take long breaths until the rush of my magic feels normal again.

“I don’t understand why she’s wearing that thing in August.” Gran whispers back to Pop after a beat. And by whisper I mean says it loud enough that I can hear.

“Leave her alone,” Pop says.

“I’m cold,” I say, fingers still pressed in my fist.

“She’s cold, Deb. Let her be,” Pop says in that completely pleasant yet completely forceful way. Gran crosses her arms as Pop rests a hand on her knee. He whispers in her ear and it makes her smile and pat his hand.

A feeling settles in my stomach again. Uncertainty. Doubt. Anxiety. This is the right thing to fix the mess I’ve made, but it’s going to cost me my family. Everyone I am trying to protect will turn their back on me. When all of this happens, when I become a demon, they’ll never understand it. Maybe Gran will think it’s because of the secret with Emmaline Spencer. The one Gran kept the truth about our demonic heritage. I’ve given them no clues, left them no reasons. I look sidelong at Gran. This will kill her, thinking that she failed me somehow by letting this happen. But Connie will be alive, so maybe that will be enough, and when I’m done, I’ll come back to them. Then I can explain it all and ask for their forgiveness. Maybe they’ll love me enough to give it to me.

I look up feeling someone stare at me. It’s Carter from the front of the room, next to his dad, and he smiles back in my direction. I force my best smile out, and even from across the room I can tell that he doesn’t buy it as real.

I’m also going to lose him. He’ll never understand, never forgive me. The smart thing to do is to end it now, but I can’t do that. I need him. He’s the only thing that makes me still feel like myself.

The priest stands in front of the crowd, and I watch the back of Victor’s shoulders for any extra tension. This funeral is for Lindley Arthur, a famed author, and not the funeral of a Static. Victor Prescott’s probably glad of it. This way no one can speak out against the Triad in a public way. No one would dare, not with the media. It would expose us.

“It is with a heavy heart we all gather to say good-bye to a woman who changed the face of children’s literature. But beyond that, a woman who loved fiercely and died too early.”

Because of me,
I think.

…

I see Carter again afterward in the reception hall, standing next to his father. Even though it’s a funeral, they both seem to be “on” today. Aside from the dark circles under Victor’s eyes, you wouldn’t be able to tell that anything else was happening. Carter waves at me when some bald guy walks away. I take a step toward them but when Victor sees me, he pulls Carter in the opposite direction. Oo-kay then.

I should go after them to show him that I don’t go away that easy.

Three steps toward where they stand, and Pop grabs my arm. “We have to go,” he whispers.

“Already?” I ask.

His blue eyes are trimmed in red. I can’t tell if it’s from crying or from trying not to. “It’s your sister.”

That’s all I need to hear. We maneuver through the others and Gran’s already at the door waiting for us. We’re in the car about to back out when Carter appears at my window. Pop rolls it down for him, and Carter stares among the three of us.

“What’s wrong?

I stare at him, trying to speak, but I don’t have an answer yet. None of them want to come out of my mouth.

Luckily I don’t have to say anything. Pop does.

“It’s Connie. We have to go.”

I try to keep my emotions down. I can’t lose control of the magic.

“You want me to come with you?” He’s asking me this, but I can’t…
I don’t know.
And then the magic I’m forcing down mingles with my own fear about my sister. I look at Carter again, waiting for an answer, and I’m annoyed at him for delaying us. For trying to make me choose between him and her. Whether it’s the magic or really me, I feel a sudden surge of anger toward him. The magic wants me to release it, to allow it seek vengeance for whatever I’m feeling. Part of me knows all of this doesn’t make sense, but the other part, the part the magic connects with, doesn’t care one iota.

“We have to go,” I shout.

Pop must take that a sign because he backs the rest of the way out of the spot. Carter watches after us and gets his keys from his pocket, because I see him through the back window of the car. He’s going to come.

As he disappears, so does my anger. The magic lulls itself back into that place where it hides until it’s trying to destroy my life.

I really could use him with me in case she’s…
Oh God I can’t even think that. Don’t think that.

But when I glance back out, Victor is standing next to him. They look like they’re fighting, but then I’m too far gone to see anything else.

…

The doctor is waiting for us in Connie’s room when we get there. The beeping is the first thing I notice. It’s always first. If it’s beeping then she’s breathing, then her heart is working and she’s alive. I exhale a little when I hear that annoyingly beautiful sound. Then I realize that she’s really pale today and there’s a new tube running down her throat.

“What’s happening?” Pop asks.

“Mr. and Mrs. Warren, it’s good you’re here. Constance had a seizure today. We were able to stabilize her, but once we did her lung collapsed. That new tube is assisting her in breathing until we’re able to fix her lung.”

“So, fix it.”

“We can’t until we’re sure she’s able to maintain stability.”

“She was doing better,” Gran says. “You said she was doing better.”

“She had been, but now she’s rejecting the previous treatment. Honestly, if she keeps progressing at this rate there won’t be much more we can do aside from make her comfortable.”

“Make her comfortable?” Pop repeats.

“You mean give up on her,” I snap. They’re suggesting we let her go. The doctor looks away from me, and toward my grandparents.

“Based on the information Penelope gave us before, we believe demon’s magic did this. A demon’s magic, when used in this direct way, is poisonous to a witch. Pure void is too strong for our hearts. If this is what happened, then it’s a miracle she’s even survived this long. We’re really doing all we can.”

“Do more,” Gran says. “Whatever it takes. Do whatever it takes.”

“There are limits to both magic and medicine, Mrs. Warren.”

“She’s our granddaughter, so with all due respect, screw the limits. She’s sixteen years old. Figure it out,” Gran says.

The room is quiet for a good minute before the doctor excuses himself. I stare at my sister. She can’t die. I’m doing all of this for her. I’ll practice more. I’ll talk to Lia and we’ll move the timeline up. I will save her. I have to. It’s on me.

Wordlessly, I turn to leave. I’m going to find Lia and make it known that I am tired of waiting. We can do the ritual early. Surely, the extra power of the Observance isn’t so much that—

“Where are you going?” Gran asks.

I turn around at the door. “I just—I need to think.”

Gran doesn’t like that answer. She strides toward me in large steps until we’re maybe a foot apart. The magic is already on the defensive, waking up again. “Think? Your sister is dying and you need to think?”

Pop reaches out for her. “Deborah, hold it now.”

“No, you hold on. Both of you. She’s never around anymore. The least you can do is be here, right now. My family has been tormented by demons my whole life. My daughter died from a demon attack. You were nearly killed by one, and now Connie here is fighting for life. I understand more than anyone in this room, and you can’t leave right now to
think
.”

I want to touch her, but I don’t trust the void. “She’s going to be fine, Gran.”

Gran huffs, neck turning red like it does when she’s really angry. “Like you are? I’m glad you’re alive—Lord knows my heart couldn’t handle both of you still being in these beds.”

Gran reaches out for me, and I take a step back. She doesn’t pause when I do. The pain is there anyway. “You’re the only other person who was there with her. If you suspect something else that you’re not saying, if something happened, then tell us now.”

I do because I did it.
However, I can’t say that. If I tell her what’s going on, what I’m going to become, she’ll lose it. “I don’t,” I say instead and feel all my old guilt and my new lies with an insane amount of pressure on my heart.

Gran tosses her hands up. “Who are you these days? Sneaking around, out all hours of the day and night. We know you’re not an Enforcer, Penelope.”

My heart races and the magic stirs. My mind is trying to catch up. I was careful. Someone betrayed me. “What?” I shout.

“Where are you going?” Gran practically spits the words at me.

Anger fights toward the surface like an oasis in the desert. Brief, unexpected, quenching. “How do you know that?”

Gran points toward Pop. “Frank found out last week. What’s happening and why would you even try to keep this from us?

I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to strangle someone. It’s a barbell pressed down on my chest, a drumming in my head, a nagging at my fingers to let go, a crack of light in a dark room. I want to let the anger out so it can consume them. “Gran you don’t understand.”

She moves toward me again, and I step away. Feeling like I could explode. “What don’t I understand?”

I shake my head. I can’t say anything to her about this. I can’t tell her. “There’s more going on than that. Trust me.”

“That’s hard to do, considering.”

Pop moves closer to Gran, resting a hand on her shoulder. The two of them are near to me, eyes narrowed in like lasers. My sister’s machines pulse and beep around me, filling the tiny room with unnatural sounds. Everything feels constricted. I feel too big for this space and too lost in it at the same time.

“I have to go,” I say.

“Your sister needs you. She’s always been there for you when you needed her. Whatever you have going on can wait,” Pop says.

It’s the first time he’s spoken in a few minutes, and he does that thing with his voice. He knows how to get me. But when I look back at him and I see her in that bed, he’s right. Connie would do anything for me, and I’d do anything for her. And that’s why I leave.

…

I find Lia in a bar she mentioned before with some other demons. They snarl when I approach, but she holds up a hand and they back off.

“This is ballsy—especially for you.” She almost looks impressed.

Demons are staring at me, but I ignore all of them. “My sister is getting worse.”

She looks at my covered arms and pulls up my long sleeves. The blackness trails up my arm. “It’s spread.”

She can’t see beyond that, but it goes all the way to my neck and down my waist straight to my knees. “Yes, but it’s not happening fast enough. The Observance is in five days, Lia. Five days.”

Lia pauses and masks the blackness with her magic. When she opens her eyes, she says, “You better work extra hard then, Penelope. Look, I’ve told you what you have to do.”

“I can’t flip off my emotions. I’m not you,” I snap.

“Not yet,” she says. “But soon. We can’t do the ritual until the Observance anyway, so you have five days.”

Five days. That’s so not what I want to hear.

Lia puts her hand on my shoulder. “Keep working at it. Keep using the magic. I promise you’ll be able to save her.”

I turn around and leave.

I’m so sick of promises.

Chapter Thirty

Carter

I park my car outside of the address sent to my phone. I must be crazy for coming here. I don’t know who sent the message,
but with so much going on, I couldn’t overlook it. I open the door and tighten my jacket around my neck against the bitter D.C. wind.

It’s 65F outside on a Tuesday, and it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. A change has come like Vassago said it would. I doubt the weather was all that Vassago was referencing, but it could be some kind of omen. It’s never this cool in August.

Outside the abandoned building in the middle of H Street, a door’s propped open with a rock. I inch my way into the space. Light streams in through the broken windows, and a noise like the clinking of chains fills my ears. Muffled voices echo through the hallway. I grip a knife in my belt, ready for whatever could jump out at me. Demon, Static, or Non, I’m not taking any chances.

I follow the hallway around a left turn, and then a beam of bright white light fills the darkness and blinds me. I cover my eyes, and lean against the wall. The light is hot as it touches my skin, almost burning into me like the sun. I can’t place what this is, and as the spot against my coat starts to get uncomfortable, all the heat sensations disappear.

That was not normal.

I pull the knife into my hand, and turn the corner. There’s another clinking, louder this time, and a voice yells, “You can do better.” And then I creep into the room. I see blond hair across the room next to pink skin. I’ve got to be imagining this.

“Penelope?” My mind is racing, because standing there next to a chain fence is my girlfriend. My eyes dart around the room and settle on the mauve demon.
Mauve
. Vassago’s been warning me about her since day one. “What are you doing here?”

The mauve demon looks from me to Pen, and speaks under its breath what sounds like “awkward.” Yeah. Why is Pen here with that demon? What are they doing? What was that light? I start to slide the knife back into my belt, but change my mind. I may need it. I step toward the demon, knife ready. Considering everything, seeing Penelope here is not what I need right now. I told her not to make deals.

“Someone better tell me what’s happening right now.”

No one speaks at first, and then I move toward it. I have no problem ending this creature here and now. Even if it’s supposedly on our side. The demon puts its hands up. “Geesh. You are impatient. Point that knife somewhere else.”

I lower the knife half an inch to show I’m amiable. Really I could slide this in the demon’s throat and feel no remorse at all.

“I asked her to come,” Pen says. I look over the demon’s shoulder at her.

I glance at Pen and try to read her face. She seems nervous. I swear if she went behind my back on that deal…

“You asked her to come? And do what?”

Each second she doesn’t answer is a blunt punch to the gut. There’s more going on here. I can feel it.

Pen moves toward me. “We were talking, that’s all. I wanted to see if she had an update about the Statics that were dying, and if it relates to my sister.”

I slide the knife back into my belt. Not because I trust the demon, but because Pen’s near me. And I feel irrational. Like I could smash in its smug face. “You think it’s connected?”

Pen shrugs. “I think it’s worth looking into.”

I look toward the demon, who nods. “So, is it related?”

The mauve demon answers. “Unclear, which is what I told her. I’m going to look into it.”

“So, basically you’re no help at all,” I snap.

The mauve demon crosses its arms. “You’re spunky. I see why you like him. You can both annoy the world together.”

I smirk. “That’s a compliment.”

“Don’t fight with her,” Pen says. Her voice is nearly pleading. Since when does she care if I fight with a demon? It’s what I do with demons. I pull my gaze toward Pen, and I can’t quite pinpoint what’s off. Ever since she was marked she’s been changing. Becoming more like a stranger. “Why are you calling her here? She’s already proven that she doesn’t know as much as she thinks.”

The mauve demon growls. “That’s harsh. I’ve given you more information than your Triad has.”

I ignore the comment and don’t look away from Pen. “What was that light?”

“What light?”

Pen’s face is blank when she says that, but there’s no way she didn’t see it. I look from her to the demon again. “That bright light. What was it?”

The demon smiles. “That was the void.”

“The void?” I glance at Penelope. If she showed this demon that she can access the void, then we’re in more trouble than secret meetings. She can’t give a demon that information. I lower my voice. “Did you…?”

Pen shakes her head and I exhale. At least that’s one thing I can cross off the list. “She was showing off with her magic. That’s all. She’s leaving now.” Pen glares at the demon.

With a nod, Mauve says, “Until next time, lovebirds,” and then she flickers out.

She’s barely gone when I say, “I don’t like that demon.”

I look at Pen, and she takes my hand in hers and pulls me toward the door. “Have you eaten? I could eat.”

I stop walking. She’s deflecting. I’m a Prescott and we do that better than anyone. “Don’t,” I say. “What are you doing right now? Here? With that?”

“I told you. I had questions and she’s good at getting the answers. How did you even get here?”

I shake my head. “Someone texted me an address.”

“Weird,” is all she says.

She doesn’t make eye contact with me for three seconds. She’s hiding a secret, a big one, but what is it? I want her to tell me so I can be here for her. Whatever it is. I’ll understand. “Demons don’t have the answers to this, Pen.”

“Or maybe they do and they aren’t sharing,” she says.

I shake my head. I can’t stand this. She opens her mouth to speak, and then closes it. I stare at Pen, hoping, praying that whatever she’s dealing with she’ll tell me.

“I’m glad you showed up, though. I missed you. I haven’t had time with you since before Lindley’s funeral.”

So much for that. She’s changing the subject on purpose. “It’s been crazy with the Observance in five days, and Dad has kept me busy,” I say.

“I have you now,” she steps toward me. Pen wraps her hands around my neck, fingers trailing at the ends of my hair. I start to ask her what else is happening, but then she presses her lips against mine, and my brain is all Penelope. Her skin under my fingers, her lips pressed against mine. Even with everything else going on, Pen is right here. Still solid. She’s what I’m fighting for.

…

An hour later, we’re sitting at Guapo’s. Pen stares at me across the table, looking bored and angry at the same time. “They’re still insistent on the marking? It’s obviously causing more harm.”

“Unless we figure out another alternative.” The thought of it makes me sick. The Statics didn’t ask for this magic, they didn’t seek it out, and yet they’re dying because of it. Because of me and Pen.

Pen taps her finger on the table. There’s a small mark I notice, a black one, and I reach out for her hand. She moves it quickly under the table. What was that?

“We can do the Restitution.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Lia says I can do it. She thinks that because of my status I can access the void.”

“Lia?”

Her eyes focus on mine, sharp and all business. “The mauve demon.”

I scoff. “You’re on a first name basis with it?”

“Her,” Pen says sharply. “And yes. I couldn’t keep calling her ‘demon.’ It’s insulting.”

I shake my head, still stuck on the fact that Pen calls the demon by its name. “That’s what it is: a demon. We don’t owe it anything.”

She scoffs at me. “She’s proven herself truthful over and over again.” Her voice is almost sarcastic.

I lean in toward Pen. “That’s what makes me nervous.”

“I trust her, Carter.”

What is Penelope even looking for? None of this makes sense. “That’s great, but your trust in her doesn’t give me any ideas how to save the Statics.”

She crosses her arms. “I’ve given you an idea, but you don’t want to hear it.”

“You’re right;. I don’t.” I don’t even want to have this conversation. All of this is ludicrous and she would see that if she was thinking straight.

Penelope leans in. “Your dad would be for it. This could solve his problems, even if it cost me.”

“I’m not my dad,” I snap, and I hate the comparison. Anything he would do, would think is a good idea, isn’t something I want to support. Especially at the cost of her. She knows that.

The food comes and she picks up her fork. I see her fingers again, and realize she didn’t answer my question. This time, though, there’s nothing really to see. It’s only her hand. No blackness.

…

“I’m sorry we fought,” Pen says outside her house. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Me, either,” I say. I should kiss her. I want to kiss her. I always want to kiss. Hell, even mad I want to take her and kiss her until I forget, but it feels off. I’m not forgetting any of this. I’m going to file it away and figure it out.

Instead I kiss the side of her mouth, where her smile forms. “Together,” I say.

She smiles back and wraps her arm around my neck. “You and me.”

We do kiss, but it’s a slow kiss. A familiar one to remind each other that we’re still here. It’s a good kiss, don’t get me wrong, it’s always good. This one though, this one feels fractured. Like we’re both doing it because we feel like we need to.

“Tomorrow?” she asks.

I nod as she goes inside. Before the door closes, I realize that I never want to kiss Penelope like that again. Like it’s something I need to do as solidarity. I want to kiss her because I can’t
not
kiss her.

…

After I take Penelope home, I go to see Poncho at the library and tell him all the things I’ve seen. The way Penelope was hanging out with a demon, the light of the void, the blackness that wasn’t really there. He shrugs, not able to offer any assistance. I pull out the list of words from Vassago.

CHECK. REMAIN. DAGGER. MAUVE. OBSERVANCE. QUEEN.

“These are a warning. I got it the night before Penelope was marked. That mauve demon has been around ever since then. It can’t be a coincidence.”

Poncho’s eyes narrowed in on the page. “You’ve searched for their connections?”

I nod. “I found an article about a gift, Taliel, and Lucifer, but I think it was one of those mythological beliefs, a story, not real.”

“Aren’t all things in mythology based on reality?”

“So, it’s real? This gift?” Seak jumps on the desk and knocks over some pencils. Poncho bends down to pick them up, muttering at the cat. I wait, impatience building until he’s done and standing back up. “Poncho, is it real?”

“Some have faith in it, but it has not come yet.”

I take a breath. “Can you show me everything you have in the library on it?”

Poncho’s eyes light up and he nods. “You can’t possibly read it all in one night.”

“Good thing I still have a few days before the Observance” I say.

“Indeed,” he says with approval.