A Shadow Bright and Burning (3 page)

Lord, not this argument again. “I'll apply when I want to, but I don't want to right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I might set fire to the master's drapes,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Besides, I can't just…” I bit my tongue, but Rook caught on.

“Can't what?” His jaw was set, his eyes hard.

“Leave you,” I said, wincing as I waited for his reaction.

He stopped us in the road. “Nettie, I don't want you to ever keep yourself low because of me.”

“You're being silly,” I snapped, wrapping my shawl tight around my shoulders. “I'm going home.” With that, I turned and walked off the road at a brisk pace, tramping across the moor. I waited to hear Rook's footsteps, but he didn't follow me. I stopped, exasperated. “Are you planning to live out here?”

Rook remained on the road. He faced the traveler on horseback, who was only about a half mile away now. Something about Rook's stillness was unsettling. I hurried back to him.

“Are you all right? Do the scars still hurt?” I asked, gripping his shoulder. Instantly, he crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain. When I touched him, he shuddered. Panicking, I hooked my arm with his and tried once, twice to get him back on his feet. I pulled so hard I lost my balance and fell beside him in the dirt.

Had the paste I'd given him been bad? There was no response when I shook him.

“Rook?” I whispered. The sound of hooves brought up my head. The traveler had arrived. Relieved, I started to ask for help.

When I glimpsed what had found us, the words died in my mouth. Terror made me mute.

The traveler didn't ride a horse at all. The creature was a black stag with thick, gnarled antlers and glowing red eyes. As it snorted, sparks flew from its snout. The stag opened its mouth in a hideous cry. Its teeth were jagged, designed for tearing flesh.

The rider wore a hooded, mistlike cloak that whispered about his body. He stank of the grave. Slowly, the hood peeled away from his face. I gasped and shrank back.

A young woman, not a man. She was scarce older than I. Her once-fair hair had thinned and gone nearly white, clinging to her scalp in filthy clumps. And her eyes—dear heaven, her eyes—had been sewn shut with a crude black thread. But even without sight, she appeared to know where I was. She stopped her stag right before us. Licking her lips with a thick, wolfish tongue, she leaned down toward me.

“Death,” she croaked, scenting the wind like an animal. “Death tonight.”

The air exploded with the sound of hooves.

Three more shrieking riders on black stags plummeted from the sky, landing in a circle around us. The monsters closed in, unsheathing black daggers. Rook sat up straight, mercifully coming back to his senses. He shoved me behind him, away from the creatures.

The eyeless girl leaned toward him from her stag, yellowed teeth bared in a grimace.

“The Shadow's chosen,” she whispered to her brethren. “He is ours.”

The Shadow had to be Korozoth. These were Familiars, humans transformed into servants of the Seven Ancients.

Rook lifted his head so I could see his face. His eyes had gone pure black. When he opened his mouth to speak, all he emitted was a terrible screech. It was the sound a damned soul might make in the fires of hell. I covered my ears, shaking as I listened. When the shadowy Familiar reached to pull him onto her mount, my palms grew boiling hot.

I thrust my hands forward, and fire billowed out of me. The girl managed to pull away before I could scorch her. She growled and reached for Rook again.

“Don't touch him!” I cried. Panic set me in full, furious motion. They would
not
have us. Screaming, I thrust my hands out, blasting again and again. This time I caught one of the other riders as it tried to rise into the air. The rider and stag fell to the ground, hissing and screeching as they burned. Their screams died with them, and charred bits of the monsters floated away on the wind.

It was like opening a cage in my chest to free some wild creature. The power rushed out of me. The harder I pushed, the more it gave. I closed my eyes in one moment of pure joy.

I was so blissful that I forgot to protect my back. A Familiar gripped me by my hair. Rook grabbed my waist and tore me out of the creature's grip. I grunted in pain as Rook shielded me with his body, his arms raised to the sky. The eyeless girl hovered there like a phantom, snarling, with her long dagger poised to strike.

“We have to go.” Rook pulled me to my feet.

We ran, and the monsters gave chase. They raced through the air, cackling as they spurred on their mounts in the hunt. When I felt them get too close, I risked a glance back and launched a volley of fire behind me. The flames did not come as quickly as before; sometimes there were only sparks. I'd used too much. My breath sounded ragged, and I tripped on my skirt. All we needed was to make it to Brimthorn. The men in the stables would be enough to hold the monsters while we got the children to safety.

We were almost there. One last hill and we'd be within sight of the school, but the riders were at our heels. As we neared the top, Rook lost his footing and slammed down, taking me with him. I howled as my shoulder caught the ground and pain knifed through me. When I rolled onto my back and summoned the fire, there was nothing.

I tried once, twice, but my hands were numb. I couldn't even draw breath for a scream as the Familiars leaped out of the sky, daggers prepared for a killing blow.

A cold wind blasted out of the west, scattering the riders. Master Agrippa stood at the crest of the hill, cape billowing in the breeze, his sorcerer's stave held out before him. He jerked his head, ordering us to move.

“You came back! How did you know?” I gasped as we staggered up the hill. I wanted to fall at his feet in relief.

Agrippa nodded toward the horizon. The dark clouds boiled in the air. “This is no ordinary storm. Get to the school. Now.”

The riders regrouped and shot toward us, forcing Agrippa to attack. The sorcerer moved more quickly than I'd have thought possible for a man his age. He slashed toward the monsters, using his stave like a sword. Wind battered the creatures until he'd forced them down the hill. Agrippa made a fast, whipping motion and slammed his stave to the ground. The earth itself rose up, formed a wall several feet high, and sped toward the Familiars. They fell beneath the muddy onslaught and rolled to the bottom, lying so still that I prayed they'd died.

I watched, transfixed, as Agrippa advanced slowly. I'd always wanted to see a sorcerer fight. I looked over at Rook, who had his hands pressed tight to the sides of his head. His eyes remained a terrifying black. My stomach tightened, and I put my arm around him.

“We should get to shelter,” I whispered.

Agrippa's yell made me look down the hill. He lay on his back, arm shielding his face. He'd dropped his stave, and one of the Familiars had kicked it out of his reach. The eyeless girl stood over him, cocking her head at different angles. Agrippa seemed frozen. He wasn't fighting. With a grunt, the Familiar lifted her dagger into the air while her two companions held back and bobbed around her. They were letting her have this kill.

I dug my hands into the earth. I could distract the Familiars with my ability, but if I did…if Agrippa survived and knew what I was…

Rook got to his feet and picked up a rock. Running down the hill, he threw it and struck the eyeless rider on the side of her head, knocking her down. Her monstrous friends rushed to tend to her. This gave Agrippa enough time to roll over and grab his stave. Rook shuddered and collapsed.

The eyeless rider leaped back to her feet, dagger still in hand. Agrippa wasn't her focus any longer. She turned toward Rook, now lying helpless. With a sneer, she sprang and caught him by the back of his shirt. He fought her, but his movements were slow. The blackness was overtaking him. Agrippa tried to get to them but was caught fighting off the other two monsters. The eyeless Familiar whistled for her stag.

She was going to take Rook away.

“No,” I whispered, getting to my feet. Gritting my teeth, I ran forward, my skin hotter than ever before. Fury stoked something deep inside. Power flooded me.

“Miss Howel, wait!” Agrippa cried.

“No!” I screamed. My whole body ignited.

The fire engulfed me, rippling over my clothes, my face, shooting out from my hands. Every inch of my skin tingled, and the blood in my veins seemed to hum. The world fell away around me, until all I could see or feel was fire. The column of blue flame swirled above me while the Familiars wailed. Grass sizzled as I advanced on the eyeless girl, still struggling to pull Rook onto her stag. She bared her teeth and groaned low in her throat. If I touched her now, I somehow knew I'd kill Rook as well. But I'd sooner see him dead than let her take him to God knows where. He would do the same for me.

“Let him go,” I said, “or I will kill you.”

She ran a tongue over her cracked lips, deciding. Then, slowly, she released Rook. He dropped to the ground and lay there. The girl turned for one last look at Agrippa, then spurred her stag and took off into the sky. The others joined her. They galloped away, spitting and crying into the storm. When they'd vanished, I felt my whole body relax. The fire died at once. Dark spots danced before my vision. My hands felt numb. But I'd done it.

My joy was short-lived as Agrippa pointed at me.

“You,” he said. “It's you.” He didn't sound friendly.

I turned to run. But the moment I stepped forward, the last energy fled my body. I collapsed into the mud, where darkness took me.

I
STOOD BEFORE A FIREPLACE, TRYING
to warm my hands. It didn't work. With a sigh, I studied the pictures on the mantel. Small, exquisitely detailed portraits of a man and a woman. The man had hair and skin as dark as my own, so dark some would mistake him for a gypsy. The woman was soft and fair as a rose petal.

My father and mother. I never knew them. Father drowned in a boating accident before I was born. Mother perished in childbirth. My aunt Agnes took me into her home, this home. These were the pictures she wouldn't allow me to take to Brimthorn. Why couldn't I have them? They were
my
parents, after all.

My thin, hollow-eyed aunt appeared beside me. She looked the same now as she had eleven years before, when she'd first brought me to school. The last time I'd seen her.

“Henrietta, you overspent yourself. Your powers must be governed. Do you understand me?” Odd. She spoke with Master Agrippa's voice.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Horrid child,” she snapped. Now she sounded much more like my aunt. She leaned in. “You are a horrid child.”

“No.” I tried to leave. She grabbed me, pulled me close to her as I struggled. She opened her mouth wide, wider, then wider still. I screamed as I disappeared into the void of her mouth, and Agrippa's voice came out of the blackness to whisper:

“I've waited for you.”

I
WOKE IN A SMALL, DARK
room. A candle burned on the table beside me. Head spinning, I found my feet and staggered to the door. Locked. There was a barred window at my eye level. Peering out, I glimpsed a dim stone corridor.

This was a prison cell, probably where condemned witches were housed before being taken out to be executed. Agrippa had seen my fire.

I was going to die. At that moment, with my wretched head throbbing, I took that thought as a comfort. I returned to the bed and closed my eyes.

Someone cleared his throat, and I bolted upright. Looking about in a panic, I glimpsed two pointed ear tips sticking slightly over the edge of the bed. With a wheezing sound, a tiny creature climbed up the mattress and stood beside me.

Perhaps I'd already died and been damned to hell; the demon before me was ugly as sin. Its long, twitching ears were rabbit-like, but the rest of the beast resembled a bat more than anything. It scratched its ears with two hands and then
brought two more hands out from behind its back
to rummage in its coat pockets.

Yes, the demon wore a coat, a purple coat with a blue silk cravat. It retrieved a glass vial filled with shining liquid from its pocket and tossed it to me. In my hands, it was no larger than a thimble.

“Now,” it said in a high-pitched voice, “drink that.”

“Have I died?” I closed a shaking hand around the vial.

The thing snorted. “Yes, of course. You died, and I'm giving you medicine to keep you dead.” It folded its ears together and down its back in annoyance. “What does Cornelius think you can do for us?”

“Who is Cornelius?”

“Cornelius Agrippa. Who are you?”

“Henrietta Howel.
What
exactly are you?” Lord, if only my head weren't pounding.

“I'm a hobgoblin, cherub. My name is Fenswick.” He bowed, his four arms outstretched in a showy display. “Her Majesty lent me to aid the Order in this war.”

“Queen Victoria owns hobgoblins?”

“No one owns me, and certainly not any Victoria. I serve Queen Mab of the dark Faerie court, but doubtless you've never met her. Now, drink your potion.”

Faerie queens. Hobgoblins. I'd gone absolutely mad.

“Where's Master Agrippa?” I rubbed my forehead and gasped. “Where's Rook?”

“See here,” Fenswick snapped as I tossed the blankets onto his head. I threw the silver vial to smash on the floor, the world spinning before me. Falling to one knee, I caught myself, then stood and ran to bang on the door. My legs buckled.

“Rook! Help me! Rook!” I cried. Footsteps sounded in the corridor, and someone unlocked the door. I stepped back as Agrippa entered the room, one hand raised as if to calm me.

“All is well, Miss Howel. Please sit,” he said.

“Where am I? What've you done with him?” I took a faulty step backward and collapsed. The bundle that was Fenswick slid off the bed with a grunt. Agrippa took a chair. The door closed again, and I heard the lock turn. “It's not my fault.” I was nearly in hysterics. “I didn't choose to be this way.”

“Enough now.” He sounded gentle, understanding. I didn't trust it.

“I'm no follower of Mary Willoughby!” I said. My head threatened to split in two. “I didn't choose to be a witch. I don't want to die!”

“I'm not going to kill you,” he said, his tone soothing. I wouldn't believe him. I couldn't.