The Witch with No Name

“Oh.” That was different, and the fire seemed to wash out of me. He’d come here to save me, save me again. “The same thing you do, I guess. A little peace to find out who I am.”

Slumped, Al looked out over the broken clearing. “There’s no peace but for the dead, and even that we’ve found a way to corrupt.”

It was starting to sound like a pity party, and I stood. “I don’t have to listen to you anymore, remember? I have to go. I’ve got to make a scrying mirror before midnight.” Damn it, I was going to have to do this without their help. If I couldn’t convince even Al, then the rest were useless. I strode back to the path, arms swinging.

“Rachel?”

His call was so soft, yet it pulled me to a halt. I didn’t turn, standing there with my back to him, but he knew I was listening.

“You don’t need the mirror anymore to connect to the collective,” he said, voice holding a sliver of pain. “Why do you think I’m here?”

Mystics, I thought, shaking as I turned around to see him still on the bench.

“You haven’t for a long time,” he said, hands clasped between his knees, making him look worried and scared. “We, ah, hate to admit it, but demons are still tied to elven magic.”

My feet scuffed a few steps back. “Maybe it’s not elven. Maybe it just . . . is.”

Al rubbed his forehead. “I don’t remember.”

My hope flooded back, and I came to him, sitting so our knees almost touched, begging him to listen. “Al, I know we can do this. You may be only four hundred, but you have the gargoyles as anchors now. There’s support among the elves, hidden in the dewar. Vivian is trying to sway the witches’ coven. Professor Anders . . .” I hesitated. “Ah, she’s okay, right?”

Al waved a hand and sighed, his regret that she was indeed okay obvious.

“Well, she’s rallying the scientific community,” I continued. “You aren’t alone this time. Four hundred and thirteen survivors, but you are the ones who made it this far. Can’t you convince the rest we have a real chance?”

“It was beautiful here once,” Al said distantly, eyes on nothing.

“Al!” I shouted, then frowned as Jenks’s wings clattered. “I can’t walk away from this!”

“Right here, this spot,” the demon said, his hands beginning to glow. “The fountain was the perfect blending of sound and motion.” I started, eyes wide as a haze shimmered over the broken statuary and realities seemed to shift, focusing in and out until a mossy fountain of fish and antelope took form.

“The moonlight made the water into pearls, and the smell of the night vines was intoxicating,” Al whispered, and I could hear the water, see it. “There were pixies then. That bastard killed them all when she died. It wasn’t their fault.”

He was fingering the pocket where the chrysalis lay, and I couldn’t speak as I looked over a memory pulled from the recesses of time. The patio was new and clean, looking like midnight in the late noon sun. I knew without asking that he was talking about Trent’s mother and dad. “You were here?” I asked. “You knew them?”

“I knew her.”

I leaned forward as the magic faded and reality imposed itself anew and the shattered ruin of the fountain smothered the spell. I could see a fin in the wreckage, and the curve of a graceful leg. All gone. All spoiled.

“Not everything changes, Rachel,” Al said as he stood up. “Some things just are.”

“So you won’t help,” I said.

His hand trembled as he set the chrysalis down on the broken statues. “No.”

“Then you’d better leave because I’m busy,” I said, eyes rising to a faint glimmer of pixy dust coming through the greenery.

Al said nothing, and I started when I turned to find him gone. Grimacing, I stood. Okay, some things changed, and it was up to those who cared to fight for the change they wanted.

“I’m sorry, Rache,” Jenks said as he hummed into the clearing.

“Me too.” Frustrated, I turned and went back to the spelling hut, hurt and sick at heart.

I left the chrysalis behind.

Chapter 25

The black van was borrowed from one of Ivy’s friends, and therefore untraceable past a fictional Hollows address. It smelled like Special K and blood lust under the acidic bite of disinfectant. Between that and the pheromones Ivy and Nina were dumping into the air, my vampire scars were tingling.

Looking across the front seat at Ivy, I muttered, “You need to relax,” all the while wishing the side windows would open a little more.

Ivy took a slow breath, stilling her painted nails as they drummed a frustrated staccato on the steering wheel. We’d been here for about ten minutes, and she hadn’t let go of it yet.

“This is relaxed,” Nina said, but she’d gotten up from her rear seat, moving forward with a pained slowness to avoid touching anyone. Kneeling beside Ivy, she put an arm around her back. Head tilting to rest almost on Ivy’s shoulder, she whispered something. Ivy sighed and the tension visibly flowed from her, her head thumping down to land upon Nina’s.

Happy, I turned back to retying my boots. I was glad that Ivy had someone and that it was Nina.