Witch Hunter (29 page)

two boys walk off.

‘Thank you,’ I say again, and take another sip. I have

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to admit, it tastes good. Spicy and tangy, almost like

shandygaff, a mixture of ginger beer and lemons that Joe

sometimes serves. Caleb always joked it was the most

normal thing on the menu.

Caleb. Is that what the potion is trying to tell me? That I

want him more than anything? That may have been true

once. I don’t feel as if it’s true now. I can’t forget how he

never came back for me at Fleet, or the things he said about

me at Veda’s. I can’t forget that when I needed him the

most, he was nowhere to be found.

I dump the rest of the potion in the grass.

I settle down onto the ground to wait. I examine my

ring, holding it up to the light, the sun penetrating into the

deep blue stone. As I tip it back and forth in the light, I

notice some sort of marking on the bottom. I take it off and

turn it upside down and there, etched into the underside of

the stone, is a tiny heart. I slip the ring back onto my finger.

Too bad Fifer hadn’t known that was there. That would

have driven Chime crazy.

I’m back to pondering the allure of shandygaff when

Fifer walks over in a huff.

‘What’s wrong?’ I stand up and dust myself off.

‘He is impossible,’ she fumes. ‘Impossible! He always

says he’ll change. But he never does.’ She looks at my empty

cup. ‘What was that?’

‘Bram gave it to me. Said it was some sort of truth

potion.’

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‘Oh. What does it taste like?’

‘Lemons. And spice.’ Fifer gives me a sharp look. ‘Why?

Have you ever had it before?’

‘Yes.’ She grimaces.

‘And?’

‘And nothing. Mine only ever tastes foul.’

I raise my eyebrows. ‘Speaking of foul, where’d Schuyler

go? Isn’t he going to help us look around?’

‘Who knows?’ she says irritably. ‘As if I can ever guess

what he’ll do, or why. He told me I was being unreasonable.’

‘You? Unreasonable?’ I fight the urge to laugh. ‘I can’t

imagine.’

‘That’s what I said!’ Fifer says. ‘I told him, if you think

taking one girl to a party and going home with another is

reasonable, you’ve got another thing coming. Then he said,

why’d you go home with another boy last year? Then I said,

John is not another boy. He’s like my brother, which

Schuyler very well knows. Then he said…’

As Fifer rages on, I search the crowd for Schuyler. Most

of the boys here are dressed normally, but since he looks as

if he just came from his own funeral, he shouldn’t be hard

to spot. I do see some boys all in black standing around a

fire, but on closer inspection, they’ve all got bloodred eyes,

not revenants but definitely some sort of demon…

I’m about to give up when I spot a figure in black

trudging up the hill by the nymph-filled lake, the coattail of

his long black coat flapping in the wind.

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Schuyler.

I turn to Fifer.

‘Then I said, if you want to go home with a nymph,

don’t bother calling on me again. As if I care what they

can do underwater—’

‘Fifer.’

‘What?’

‘There he is.’ I point at the hill. We watch for a minute as

Schuyler winds his way around the water, the trees to his

left, the lake on his right.

‘Where does he think he’s going?’ Fifer murmurs.

I shrug. ‘Who knows? But we really need to start looking

around. If he’s not coming with us, that’s fine, but we’ve

only got a few hours, and this place is huge, and – what?’

Fifer is shaking her head and muttering under her

breath. Her face is like thunder.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Oh, nothing. Just thinking about Chime again.’ She rips

open the flap on her bag and starts pawing through it. ‘Do

you know what her speciality is? Love spells. Can you believe

that?’ She pulls two necklaces from her bag and snaps it

shut. ‘What a waste of magic. I’ll bet anything that letter for

John had a love spell on it. Well, I warned him not to mess

with her. Never trust a girl with three last names.’

I blink. ‘Fifer, I have no idea what you’re talking

about.’

She reaches over and drops one of the necklaces over

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my head, then puts the other one on herself. She lets out a

huff of relief.

‘Finally. Now we can talk.’

‘What do you mean? What is this?’ I hold up the

necklace. It’s long and delicate, with a series of odd-looking

charms hanging from the end.

‘Do you have any idea what it’s like being involved with

a revenant?’ Fifer demands.

‘Uh, no.’

‘They hear everything you say, know everything you

think. They know what you’re going to do before you do it.

They can even manipulate your actions. They have all the

power, and you have none. I think you’ll agree that’s not

right, yes?’

There are about a million reasons being involved with a

revenant isn’t right without adding that to the list, but I

don’t say this.

‘Right.’

‘That’s why I came up with this.’ She holds up the

necklace. ‘Brass chain. Ampoules filled with salt, quicksilver,

and ash. Alone, they’re nothing, especially to a revenant

with Schuyler’s power. But together, they act as a sort of

shield. A barrier. With this on, he can’t hear me or feel me

or penetrate my thoughts. Yours either.’

‘Okay…but why do you need this now? I mean, why not

wear it all the time?’

‘I don’t wear it all the time because I don’t want him to

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know I have it. And I’m wearing it now because I’m going

to follow him.’

‘Why?’

We watch Schuyler trudge up the hill until he disappears

into the trees.

Fifer scowls. ‘Because he’s up to something. And I want

to know what it is.’

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Fifer starts marching around the lake. I hurry after her.

‘Are you sure this is a good idea? Following him like

this?’ I stumble over a branch and nearly fall. My dress is so

tight it’s hard to keep up with her.

‘Good for us, not so for him,’ she says.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Fifer doesn’t reply.

We’ve reached the other side of the water now. It’s eerily

quiet here: the noise from the crowd has fallen away,

muffled by the thickening trees. It’s growing darker, too,

the halo of sunlight above our heads fading the further we

move into the forest.

‘You said you think he’s up to something,’ I continue.

‘What is it?’

It could be anything. Revenants aren’t exactly known for

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having wholesome pastimes. Before he started recruiting

and training witch hunters, Blackwell used revenants to

find witches for him. It was a disaster. Unreliable at best,

terribly violent at worst, they’d kill them and dismember

them and bring back body parts as trophies. Blackwell said

they were like cats dumping their kill on his doorstep for

approval.

Finally, she speaks. ‘Stealing.’

‘Oh,’ I say, somewhat relieved.

‘He promised me he’d stop. And he did for a while. But

then I didn’t hear from him for months, and I found out

he’d been arrested. They put him in Fleet.’ She looks at me,

her eyes wide. ‘I thought I’d never see him again. I prepared

for the worst…but then he was let go. Well, he said he

escaped, but I don’t know if I believe that.’

I don’t know if I believe that, either. No one escapes

Fleet. No one except me, and I had a lot of help. And

Blackwell would never let a revenant go. Unless . . .

‘You think he was let go so he could steal something?’

She nods.

I think a moment. ‘You think Blackwell wants him to

steal something?’

She nods again.

‘Like what?’

‘Who knows? With Schuyler it could be anything. He’s

stolen money; he’s stolen horses; he even stole a crate of

chickens once—’

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‘Except Blackwell wouldn’t have him steal chickens.’

‘No,’ she replies. ‘And that’s what I’m afraid of.’ She

glances in Schuyler’s direction. Only his bright hair is visible

now; the rest of him fades into the darkness of the trees

around him.

Fifer turns back to me. ‘I didn’t just bring Schuyler here

to protect me against you. There’s another reason, too.’

She takes a deep breath. ‘The prophecy. Remember the

line that says, trust the one who sees as much as he hears?

Well, I think that’s about Schuyler. And I think that

whatever Blackwell wants him to steal is the same thing

we’re here to find.’

Her words come fast now, as though she’s afraid I’m

going to cut her off, to tell her she’s wrong, to say I don’t

believe her, the way John did.

I don’t.

‘I wasn’t sure, at first. But then when I saw him talking to

those nymphs—’ Fifer breaks off. ‘They know things, too,

you know. They’re connected to the earth the way revenants

are. If there’s anything hidden around here, anything out of

the ordinary, they’ll know it.’

‘Is that why you brought two necklaces?’ I say. ‘Because

you knew we’d have to follow him and you didn’t want

him to know?’

Fifer shrugs. ‘I always carry two necklaces. If I need to

talk to someone else he’s touched, doesn’t do me much

good to only have one, does it? Schuyler’s smart enough to

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figure what I’m saying even from half a conversation.’

I smile a little at the lengths she goes to, to hide things

from him.

‘Anyway, even if I’m wrong about Schuyler being part of

the prophecy – which I’m not – whatever Blackwell’s got

him doing, whatever he wants Schuyler to steal, it can’t be

good, can it?’ Fifer goes silent. And when she speaks again,

her voice is very quiet. ‘I always think of Schuyler as

invincible. But I think he’s got in over his head this time.’

Immediately, I wonder if Schuyler knows about

Blackwell. Then I dismiss it. Revenants need touch to gain

access to people’s thoughts: the more contact they have

with a person, the deeper they can read into them. I doubt

Blackwell would have allowed even a handshake.

I consider telling her then that Blackwell is a wizard. But

Nicholas said not to, that the truth will come out in time.

And if Fifer is right about Schuyler, that time will come

soon enough.

‘I think you’re right,’ I say.

If Fifer is surprised by my agreement, she doesn’t show

it. We keep walking up the hill, pushing our way through

the thickening trees until the path gradually narrows, then

disappears. We’ve lost sight of Schuyler, and there’s nothing

around us but trees now, no way to know which direction

he may have gone.

‘What do you think?’ Fifer asks.

I look around. While I’m used to hunting at night, I

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almost always had some sort of light. If not from the

moon, then a torch. The moon is just a tiny sliver, too dim

and too low in the sky to be of use. I keep walking anyway.

Fifer trails behind me, silent. But I don’t see anything. Just a

typical forest floor, spongy with moss, brown with wet

leaves and fallen branches. Unremarkable.

I start to wonder if Fifer’s necklace doesn’t work. That

Schuyler heard us and outsmarted us and purposely led us

astray, then my toe hits a rock and sends it clattering into a

nearby tree. I reach down and pick it up. It’s mossy, too, but

green. Bright green. It looks out of place.

It is out of place.

Soon I see another green rock, then another. They’re

getting bigger, piling up along the ground until the forest

floor disappears beneath them. We pick our way over them

until they end at the entrance to a small tunnel, neatly hewn

into the side of the hill.

Fifer shoots me a look. There’s a challenge behind it.

I shrug, but I feel my heart pick up speed. I hate small,

dark spaces but I’m not about to back out now. I take a

breath and step inside, Fifer behind me. There’s a faint light

at the end, glowing soft and green. It has a strange,

shimmery quality to it, almost like water.

We follow the tunnel to the end, where it veers sharply

to the right, and peer carefully around the corner. About

ten feet in front of us is an enormous stone slab, propped

open like a door. I hear noises from inside. A grinding

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noise, like stone on stone. A shuffling, like footsteps.