Path of Night Page 5

  Eostre, the Lady of the Lake, wore a broad silver ribbon around her own eyes. But every vivid blue eye in each tall feather was trained on me.

  “Hail, Lady,” I said. “I hope you will see us and not find us wanting.”

  “The night has a thousand eyes …” murmured the Lady. “Many are mine. Though not all. You never know what watches from the dark. Do you, Sabrina Morningstar?”

  Through gritted teeth, I said: “It’s Sabrina Spellman, actually.”

  The Lady’s laugh was a ripple on the silver surface of the pool. “Does calling yourself that make you not what you are? A rose by any other name … would still be a rose. Neither you nor the roses can change your nature.”

  Roz made urgent eye contact with me. I recalled I was meant to beg the Lady for a boon, not contradict her. For Nick, I would beg.

  “Our Lady, I humbly ask your aid.”

  “Humbly.” The Lady of the Lake’s starlight-distant voice was amused. “Do you think you can open a cage of lies with a key of lies, child?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Do you want me to demand your help?”

  The hem of the Lady’s robe floated on the waters. I couldn’t tell whether her feet rested on the surface of the lake. “He for pride hath heaven lost. No doubt whose daughter you are.”

  I lost patience. “Will you not help us?”

  “I didn’t say that,” the Lady murmured, wind-soft. “I have no quarrel with the throne of chaos or its heir. I only remind you that those who soar high fall far. Are your friends ready to fall with you?”

  She turned her blindfolded gaze upon each of my friends in turn.

  “Cunning child,” she said to Roz. “You kneel before a different god.”

  Roz clutched Harvey’s arm. “I do, but—I respect you.”

  “How gratifying.” The Lady inclined her head Theo’s way. “What do you search for in the woods, child of the pastures?”

  “I wanna help my friend,” Theo said firmly.

  “Nothing more?” asked the Lady. I felt a tremor run through Theo’s fingers where they were twined with mine. “I see. What of you, angel’s gift? What would you give, to aid your … friend, the Morningstar Princess?”

  “Anything,” said Harvey.

  The Lady’s voice was arch. “Your life?”

  “No,” I snarled.

  I turned to Harvey in terror. He squeezed my hand.

  “Um—another option would be great. If you’ve got one.”

  “You’re a truth teller, aren’t you? Except to yourself.”

  When Harvey flinched, she smiled. The storm clouds above us writhed. Behind the Lady’s head I glimpsed sun and moon sharing the same dark sky.

  “So this is your fellowship, Sabrina Morningstar? On your quest to redeem your paramour from hell. The seer, the rebel, the pure knight, and the dark princess.”

  Harvey made a face. “What are you trying to say about me, exactly?”

  “You ask for my aid? You hope I will not find you wanting? Prove to me your fellowship is worthy. Who is your leader?”

  “I am!” I declared, then turned to the others in a moment of misgiving. “If that’s okay, guys.”

  My friends shared an amused glance.

  “Nah,” said Theo. “I randomly demand to be the leader. Go ahead, Sabrina.”

  The Lady asked, “Will you accept my challenge?”

  I flung my head back. “I will.”

  “My challenge, or anyone else’s,” murmured the Lady of the Lake. “You must be devoted to your paramour body and soul. But what of your companions?”

  The calm before the storm turned into silence.

  “Well, I like Nick,” Roz said awkwardly at last.

  “Seems like a cool guy,” Theo mumbled.

  Harvey coughed.

  “Truth caught in your throat?” murmured the springtime goddess.

  Harvey’s eyes narrowed. Harvey disliked anyone he thought was mean.

  “Wouldn’t describe myself as devoted body and soul,” he said curtly. “But you don’t have to like someone to think they shouldn’t actually be in hell. We want Nick back.”

  “Are you certain?” The Lady’s whisper was as insinuating as wind through thickly clustered reeds. “No second thoughts? In this chain, there can be no weak link. Each of you must consent to be tested alone. If any tries to help the other, you all fail.”

  I could’ve heard a single drop of water hitting the silver surface of the lake.

  “How do you mean, tested?” Roz asked.

  Roz and I tended to test well. We could coach Harvey and Theo through whatever Eostre had in mind.

  “I will set you each a task. The leader will take the last and most dangerous challenge. Demons and death will threaten, but she must not falter, and she can never look back.”

  “Agreed,” I said instantly.

  The wind rose with the Lady’s voice, lifting into the air the hair that streamed to her feet like a bridal veil. For a moment, the shadow she cast seemed white.

  “The heir to chaos knows no fear. But what of the mortals? The first mortal will have the easiest task, and it will not be easy. The second will endure a harder task. The last mortal will have the worst of all. A mortal life is brief and frail as a candle flame. Any one of them could be lost with a breath. Which mortal will you doom, Sabrina Morningstar? Perhaps the mortals should decide. Which mortal will seize the chance of safety?”

  Harvey moved forward. “I want,” he said, “the most dangerous task.”

  There was an immediate rush of protest. Harvey shook his head obstinately, untidy hair flying in the Lady’s wind.

  “If anything happened to either of you, I couldn’t live with that. I wouldn’t want to. Guys, please.”

  His voice broke on the last word. The look he gave first Roz, then Theo, was so full of terror and tenderness it struck doubt like a sword through my heart. If something happened to Harvey, or Roz, or Theo …

  Maybe I shouldn’t have involved them. Maybe I should send them home, and work out a way to do this on my own.

  “Okay.” Theo’s voice shook. “Harvey can do it. But I want the second worst.”

  “Theo!” Harvey exclaimed.

  “Hey, I’m a manly man too,” joked Theo. “No offense, Roz.”

  “I could do it,” argued Roz. “I have the cunning. Visions of the future could help me. You take the least dangerous task, Theo.”

  “I can shoot. And I play way more video games than you, so I understand higher levels, meaning higher difficulty settings,” Theo argued. “I already called this. I want to do it. Really.”

  Theo’s voice was firm now, commanding belief. Even I felt I couldn’t argue with him.

  “The choice is made,” said the Lady. “Each of you will have your night of ordeal. Each of you will find your own path alone through the woods. During each task, you will each be given one more chance to turn back and be safe. If you do not turn back then, you may be lost. First, Rosalind the seer must bring to your leader a jewel from the shadows. Second, Theo the rebel must bring to your leader a robe made of feathers. Then Harvey the pure knight must bring to your leader a sacred bough. Armed with these, your leader must find my grail. Once you lay the treasures of my heart at my feet, dark princess, I will grant you the weapon most suited to your task. Do we have a bargain?”

  I nodded. “We do.”

  The Lady smiled. “One more thing. My eyes will be on you.”

  She spread her arms wide, becoming a splendid reverse scarecrow. A hundred tiny silver birds erupted from the surrounding trees to land along the shimmering lines of her arms.

  “If you fail my test,” the Lady continued, smooth as the Milky Way, “your bodies will be consumed by my demons. Your souls will become my eyes, to watch the skies until the stars grow dim.”

  Theo put up his hand. “To clarify. Our souls will become birds?”

  The Lady’s smile was answer enough.

  She lowered her arms. The birds fluttered i
nto the air as though shaken from the branches of a silver tree. Their wings a bright blur, they flew toward us. I wanted to shield myself as though the birds were arrows, but I was holding on to Harvey’s and Theo’s hands. I wouldn’t let go.

  They didn’t let go of me, even when the birds alighted on us. One bird perched on Roz’s shoulder, a couple flew to Theo, three darted at Harvey, and four settled on my shoulders, two on each. They gleamed as if I was wearing silver epaulettes to go to war.

  “My birds will follow wherever you go. They are my eyes, my messengers, and your relentless judges. They will speak to your lonely shivering souls and learn what your souls are worth. Some still remember how it was to be human.”

  One bird turned its small quicksilver head to look at me. Its eyes were not bird’s eyes. They were clear blue, brimming with tears. They were the eyes of a scared girl.

  “Wow,” said Harvey severely. “Are all your birds made from souls? Are you aware actual birds exist?”

  The Lady stopped smiling.

  Harvey was shaking his head. “Will we even know how to fly if you turn us into birds? Or will we just roll around until we get the hang of it? What if someone steps on us?”

  Deep grooves appeared on either side of the Lady’s mouth.

  I began to grin. “He’s asking legitimate questions.”

  “Harvey,” said Roz. “Can you stop pissing off the Lady of the Lake?”

  “Why is magic like this,” muttered Harvey.

  Eostre, radiant goddess of springtime and starlight, began to look testy. She said, voice cold as the dark stars live in: “This is the place where the mountain was leveled and the angel fell. No place on earth lies so close to hell as Greendale. When the dark paths come clear to you, glimpses of hell will open to your sight. You will see he who dwells in hell, and what awaits for you all. You are children who sleep sharing a pillow with devils. Every one of you is stained, and your leader is the heir of darkness. You come to me pleading for a chance in hell. Maybe you’ll get it. Maybe you’ll be sorry you did. Maybe you’ll all be dead within three days. Tomorrow, your quest begins. Whatever path you take, whatever love you betray, whatever lie you tell … be sure I see you.”

  The Lady darted forward, not the movement of a woman but an animal, head thrust out as though she might bite.

  Her silver ribbon fell from her lovely face, fluttering down to the surface of the lake. Where her eyes should be was a smooth stretch of clear skin, a terrible vacancy.

  We recoiled, and she smiled. Her gleaming form slipped down into the water.

  The lake and the clouds dwindled rapidly, as if someone had pulled the plug on magic. Only when the last drop of darkness dissolved in the sky did we relax.

  “That was gross,” Harvey said faintly.

  Theo let go of my hand and circled around to clap Harvey on the back. “Truer words were never spoken.”

  Magic did get gross. I was used to it.

  “That lady doesn’t need more birds,” Roz murmured. “She doesn’t seem like a responsible pet owner.”

  “She’s not getting more birds,” I said. “We’ve got this. Right, guys?”

  They all nodded, but then Harvey glanced at Roz and bit his lip. He let go of my hand and kept hold of hers.

  “He turned away from the truth of you,” murmured the blue-eyed bird on my shoulder. “He chose her instead. Do you ever wonder what hot looks they exchanged behind your back all these years, your boyfriend and your best friend? How much they wanted each other and secretly resented you? How much more do they resent you now, when you lead them into danger?”

  I leaped almost a foot in the air, casting a wild look around. Everybody’s eyes were fixed on their own shoulders. I didn’t dare study Harvey’s or Roz’s faces. Instead, I turned to Theo.

  “Guys!” Theo said urgently. “Do you hear your birds talking, or am I having a poorly timed break with reality?”

  His buzz cut was growing out. It seemed to bristle, as if Theo was a freaked-out cat.

  I was the expert on magic. I had to stay calm. “It must be like when my familiar talks to me,” I said, in as reassuring a tone as I could. “Other people won’t be able to hear. The Lady said the birds could speak to our souls.”

  “There’s a play about a quest and birds,” Roz said softly. “In the play, the kids search for the Bluebird of Happiness.”

  “But we get the Bluebirds of Self-Doubt?” Theo swallowed. “Sounds like our luck.”

  He seemed the most disturbed of all. I wondered what his birds had said to him.

  “Come on,” Roz said. “We should get to school.”

  “Can’t believe we have to go on death-defying quests and worry about missing first period,” Harvey muttered. “The universe should write us a note.”

  We headed toward Baxter High. Billy Marlin met us at the bottom of the school steps.

  “Hey, uh, Theo.”

  Theo cast him a harried glance. “Hey, Billy. I’m at peace with the fact you exist. That’s as good as you’re getting from me today.”

  Billy clearly didn’t see the silver birds on our shoulders, which was a huge relief. We were still the weirdos of Baxter High, but not more notably weird than any other day.

  * * *

  After school, the Fright Club walked to my house. As soon as Harvey walked through the door, the little-girl ghost materialized in front of him. Harvey almost tripped over her.

  “You can just walk through her,” I advised.

  “I can’t. It’s rude. Hey,” Harvey said softly to the ghost. “Can I try something?”

  He stooped and picked Lavinia up. Over Harvey’s shoulder, her face was small and pale as a cameo with the eyes bored out, but she was smiling.

  I wondered how it felt, taking the dead in your arms.

  Aunt Hilda beamed when she saw us. “Do you want to stay for dinner, children?”

  Roz and Theo murmured unconvincing excuses.

  “Happy April Fools’ Day, anyway,” said Aunt Hilda. “You know, for witches the first of April means the beginning of an uncertain time. Any witch who makes a big decision on April Fools’ Day is a great fool who has made a great mistake.”

  My friends stared at one another.

  “Sometimes I think you and Aunt Zelda could’ve told me more about witchcraft, growing up!” I said in a strangled voice.

  Aunt Hilda shrugged airily. “We didn’t want you to disturb the mortals.”

  “Yeah,” said Harvey. “Be a shame if we were disturbed.”

  Roz seemed worried, but she still kissed Harvey goodbye when she went home for dinner.

  “I wish you didn’t have to go first,” he murmured to her.

  “I’ll be all right,” Roz promised, but Harvey stood at the door watching her and Theo walk away into the woods, his face creased with concern.

  Tomorrow, the quest would begin, and it was Roz’s turn first. Roz was safe for tonight. Tomorrow was another story.

  “Who’s that girl?” Lavinia’s voice was grating stones. “Do you like her specially?”

  “That’s Rosalind,” Harvey told the ghost proudly. “I love her.”

  Sometimes I did wonder whether Harvey ever liked Roz when we were together.

  What did it matter? Roz was his favorite person in the world now. She’d never rained horrors down upon him. She healed him after I hurt him. She was honest. Harvey probably wondered what he’d ever seen in me.

  Oh, Nick, I thought with despair. If I could see Nick, I’d feel better. He’d made me feel better when the pain of breaking up with Harvey was brand-new. Even saying Nick’s name used to make me smile.

  The memory of Nick couldn’t console me now. Whenever I thought of him, I was miserable imagining what he might be suffering.

  “Because of you,” murmured the birds on my shoulders, a silver Greek chorus.

  I found my mind turning in desperation to my oldest and sweetest comfort, the brightest memories that meant home.

  Running past the yel
low sign and down the curving path to my house and my cousin. Ambrose would smile his wide, wild smile at the sight of me. I recalled a time I’d fallen and gotten hurt in the playground. Aunt Hilda healed me on the way home, but I was shaken. I’d tumbled through the front door and launched myself at my cousin, arms wrapping tight around his waist.

  That was the day Ambrose taught me to dance properly, humming a waltz and beaming down into my face. I laughed with him, felt graceful and grown-up, and forgot pain.

  Now I ignored the cold voices in my ear, the weight on my shoulders, and remembered dancing with my cousin.

  Wherever you are in the world, Ambrose, I thought, I hope you’re getting up to wonderful mischief.

  Ambrose Spellman was sitting across from Prudence Blackwood at a dainty wrought-iron table in an Italian courtyard, feeling well satisfied with life. Day was sinking deliciously down into night in Florence, the shadow of the Duomo cast across the cobblestones. Above him, Ambrose saw the marble panels of the basilica, inlaid green and the delicate blush pink of the inside of a seashell. The building was beautiful, Gothic peaks and swoops made pretty as confectionery and immortalized in stone. As if a small girl had built a castle of seashells on the shore, only to have her wish granted and her wild dream of a seashell palace come true.

  When he looked at Prudence, that was even better. Her bleached hair was a white glimmer in the great dome’s shadow, capturing the eye. Once captured, you couldn’t help but appreciate the flawless lines of her face and the wicked delight of her eyes. Like seeing a pretty girl, then noticing her draw a sacrificial dagger from a thigh sheath. Great at first sight, but marvelous on the second.

  Ambrose asked Prudence, his voice caressing: “What are you thinking about?”

  “Bloody vengeance,” Prudence answered.

  Ambrose hid a smile against the gilt rim of his coupe glass. “Sure.”

  He took a sip of champagne, the taste fresh and delicate as spring flowers, filling his mouth with a promise of unfurling blossoms.

  In the darkened courtyard there was a sudden rain of small spheres, all the colors of a rainbow, onto the cobblestones. Turquoise and crimson, gold and silver, the bubbles gleamed and couldn’t be burst. The mortals thought they were only plastic, a shower of radiance meant to entertain tourists. Ambrose and Prudence knew better. They were magical messages.