Sorceress (17 page)

Verlaine couldn’t take it anymore. Surely there was some way she could help. Even if that meant just getting better footage, so people could see what was really going on here, she needed to do it.

So she hurried down the hill until her boots splashed into the water. Only ankle-deep, though—any farther in than that, and she’d be in danger, too. Her place right next to the final fire truck allowed her to hear the shouting.

“Hang on!”

“Keep moving!”

“One more!”

Every available person, except for her, was up on the trucks. Verlaine positioned herself near the end of the line, where a few huddled escapees sat on benches or leaned against the wall. The two paramedics on hand were doing all they could—but that wasn’t nearly enough. “I can help,” she said. “I could maybe put those foil blankets around people, or—or I could serve some hot soup or coffee if you have that. Just tell me what to do.”

One of the women on the bench lifted her head, staring with such venom that Verlaine took a step backward. “You
can get out of here,” the woman snarled. “Witch.”

The memory flashed in front of her again—all those shouts, all those men striking at her—but even though she shook, Verlaine stood her ground. “I’m not a witch. I want you to try to be rational, okay? If I’d cast a spell to put people in danger, would I be here trying to help save them? How does that make sense to you?”

Nobody answered her, but they didn’t look convinced, either. The weight of their stares felt leaden. Verlaine decided to just do what she could on her own. As far as she could see, the best help she could offer would be assisting people when they climbed off the final fire truck. The guy coming now was wobbly, clearly almost in shock, so she boosted herself on the back bumper and took his arm to steady him.

He let her do it, though he stared at her. The same stare met her when she got the next woman down, and the one after that. In Verlaine’s opinion, this wasn’t really appropriate behavior toward someone who was helping maybe save your life . . . but she wasn’t doing this for thanks. She was doing it because it needed to be done.

Wait
—Verlaine glanced down at her boots. Water was now lapping at the top, starting to splash inside, cold and wet.
The water’s rising faster and faster. This is getting more dangerous.

At that moment, the school bus rocked violently in the current. Everyone atop it cried out, and most of them dropped down to their knees or on their bellies, so they could hang on better. But one man toppled over and fell into the water.

He’s going to drown!
Verlaine thought—then told herself
that was stupid. The water wasn’t even three feet deep. Who could drown in water so shallow?

Then she saw him try to stand, only to be knocked down by the current. He tried again, and fell again, this time going completely under the water. Only then did Verlaine realize the current was the danger, the thing that could kill.

Helpless, she turned around, looking for someone who could go get him, but every rescuer was atop one of the vehicles. Instead she saw the fire hose.

Verlaine grabbed the nozzle and started unspooling the hose—wow, it was a lot heavier than she’d thought—until it fell in loops completely free from the truck. Then she tied the nozzle end around her waist as firmly as she could. Which was maybe not that firm, but the loose circle around her would have to do. With that she waded into the current.

She’d known the current was strong from observation alone; being in it was a whole lot scarier. The water pounded against her legs, like a hundred blows falling so close together that there was no telling them apart. Verlaine was able to stay upright—but barely. Instead of walking, she had to slide her feet forward, keeping her rain boots against the ground at every moment. Shuffling forward, she called to the struggling man, “Hang on! I’m coming!”

The wind snatched the fedora from her head, tossing it into the dark water. Despite the danger, she felt a quick pang—a beautiful fedora, destroyed—but it was only a brief flicker in her mind. Verlaine remained focused on getting to this guy if she could. Already he’d been knocked several feet away from the school bus. Would the hose be long enough to reach?

Verlaine took another few steps, and the knot at her waist tightened. The fire hose stretched taut between her and the truck, and she was still just short of the drowning man. She held her hand out to him, and he tried to grab for it, but couldn’t reach. Instead he was knocked down again, dunked beneath the water.

You can do this.
Verlaine braced herself, then untied the knot around her waist.

“Verlaine Iris Laughton! What do you think you’re doing?” Uncle Gary yelled. She didn’t dare turn around to see his face. “You put that fire hose back on this instant!”

One more deep breath. Then she clamped her hand around the very tip of the hose and stretched her arm out again. “Come on! You can make it!”

The drowning man clutched her hand, and she had him.

With all her strength, she pulled him against the current until he was next to her, when she towed him to his feet. He leaned against her as she started following the fire hose back in. The water level lowered until finally they could both walk normally. As they staggered into the rescue area, Verlaine finally let herself smile. “Got him.”

The woman from the bench hurried to them, took the gasping, exhausted man in her arms—then spat in Verlaine’s face.

She was too shocked to react. The spit was hot against her cheek for the instant it took to be washed away by the cold rain.

“Witch,” the woman said again, before she pulled the man away.

For an instant, Verlaine thought she might cry. When a hand touched her shoulder, terror seized her. Were they going to attack her again? But when she whirled around, she saw Gage Calloway, the only one who had a smile for her.

“Don’t let ’em get to you,” he said. “You did good out there.”

Now she really was going to cry. The only words that came out of her choked throat were, “I’m not a witch.”

“I know that, all right? You’re okay.” Gage hugged her.

So few people outside her family had ever hugged her. Verlaine had held herself together despite the cruelty, but his kindness undid her completely. She leaned her head against his chest and sobbed.

“I know,” Gage repeated. “I know.”

Asa lay in his bed, the exact same place and position he’d maintained ever since he’d gotten home. He hadn’t budged since he’d been forced to betray Mateo and Nadia. His chest ached from the place Elizabeth had ripped open in his torso; while the physical wound had healed through the power of dark magic, it seemed as though he could still feel her fingers grasping and clawing inside him, slithering between his organs. But the pain wasn’t what kept him under the covers, in his sloppiest sweats, refusing to acknowledge the world outside. It was the shame.

Mateo’s eyes when he looked at Asa—the hollowed-out horror there, knowing himself damned to demonhood—Asa couldn’t stop seeing that. When he did manage to banish Mateo’s face from his memory, it was replaced with
the image of Nadia shivering in the rain, or crumpled on Elizabeth’s floor. She’d been so hopeless, so lost. So unlike the vibrant, defiant girl she’d been such a short time ago.

All thanks to you
, he told himself.

Well. Not all thanks. Elizabeth deserved her enormous share of the blame. None of this had been Asa’s idea.

But he’d had to do it anyway. That was what being a demon meant.

He scrunched further under his covers, hoping to hide from reality completely, but that was when his mother rapped on the door and walked in, without waiting for an answer. “Jeremy, darling. I brought you some of those Cool Ranch Doritos you like, and the last of the snickerdoodles. And just a little of the curry. Won’t you eat just a little?”

“I love your curry,” Asa said, which was true. Even telling a small truth like this reminded him how much of his existence was a lie. The woman beaming down at him with love was the same one who had reacted with entirely justified disgust and horror when she’d seen him for one instant as his true demonic self. She loved her son—but her son was dead and gone.

“Good. Then you eat up.” She put the heaping plate on his nightstand—three-fourths junk food, one-fourth actual nutritious meal.

He ate the curry first. The spices worked their magic, waking him up despite himself. Asa decided he could at least watch some TV. That was about as much of the real world as he could handle.

One touch of the remote, and Jeremy’s ultra-big-screen TV jolted into light. He’d last been watching Weather TV—it was hilarious when the meteorologists had to hang on to trees in strong winds. But any chance of laughter faded as he realized he was looking at Captive’s Sound, specifically the town square. Specifically, he was looking at a rescue.

And the rescuer wandering out into the waters—

It can’t be
, Asa told himself, but then the fedora blew off her head, revealing that long shock of silver hair. He sat up, then scrambled closer to the television as though it could bring him nearer Verlaine.

While she struggled in the current, his stomach clenched. Asa imagined he could feel the cold water rushing around him, battering him. When Verlaine untied the fire hose around her waist, his hand went to his mouth, and he bit down on his thumb, hard. It was the only way to keep from crying out.

He wanted to jump up, run out of his house, and dash straight to the square. The floodwater wouldn’t stop him. He’d wade into it, daring the current to take him down, and make sure Verlaine was safe—or no, he’d stop time, stop the water exactly where it was and lift her out. He would take Verlaine from the cold water, save that person she seemed so worried about, get her to safety and wrap her in his embrace, where his heat would comfort her. In that moment it seemed worth it, to be a demon, if only he could keep Verlaine warm.

Even as he raised his hands, Verlaine grabbed the man in the water and started back.

Asa breathed out, slumping back onto the bed. A smile spread across his face.
You underestimate her. As much as you worship her, you still don’t understand exactly how much she’s worth.

The Weather TV anchors chattered happily about the “death-defying rescue” as Asa watched Verlaine make her way out of the water. Her silver hair was soaked now, sleek against the curves of her head and shoulders, as someone took the weakened man from her—and spat in her face.

First he felt the shock—cold and hot and cold again, as though it had happened to him instead of her. Then came the rage.
How dare they? How DARE they? Do you want to know what a demon can do? You don’t. Trust me, you don’t. But you’re going to find out—

Then Asa stopped himself.

He could not help Verlaine, precisely because he was a demon. Even if he went to her now, even if he avenged this outrageous insult, Verlaine would remain isolated, despised and alone. Even if somehow Elizabeth’s plan failed—and by now Asa saw no way for that to happen—Verlaine’s situation wouldn’t change.

Unless . . .

Asa had always known how he could save her. How he could change everything for her. But to do this would mean instant damnation, to be sent to the hell within hell, a place of infinite torment and torture. There he would remain forever. He’d gone to this place once for helping her, but only for a few days. Even that brief time had felt like centuries of anguish. To know that he would be there
forever without any hope of escape, ever . . .

He looked again at the television screen. The announcers didn’t seem to have noticed what had happened to Verlaine. Gage Calloway hurried to her side and folded her in an embrace; the sight of another guy’s arms around her shoulders awakened the demonic side of his nature, the desire to slash and hurt. Yet Gage was helping Verlaine more than Asa himself ever could.

Unless.

Asa got up, put on some decent clothes, and headed downstairs. His mother brightened to see him. “You’re up! I was starting to worry.”

His father sat on the sofa, too; he’d thrown out his back sandbagging, which was the only reason he hadn’t been at that town hall meeting tonight. “Can you believe this?” he said, pointing at the screen.

“Nope. It’s unbelievable,” Asa agreed. He looked at his parents—Jeremy’s parents—as though seeing them for the first time. They’d spoiled their son, spoiled him truly rotten, but they’d done it because they loved him so much. It was humbling to be loved like that. Shameful to steal that love.

His mother noticed the coat he wore. “Are you going out in this? And it’s awfully late.”

“My friend Mateo called.” Lies came readily to him. “They’re patching their roof. It’s a mess—this isn’t exactly when you want a leak, right? I thought I’d help out. Stay over there for a couple of days and work on the repairs with
them. Don’t worry. His house isn’t in one of the flood areas.”

They beamed. “You’re a good friend,” Mr. Prasad said.

“Don’t forget—you know, cell phone service is getting weird. Because of the storms. I might not be in touch for a while.” Asa wanted them not to worry. He couldn’t protect them from the pain they would soon feel, but he could give them a couple more days of ignorant bliss.

“But be careful out there.”

“I will.” The lie was even easier this time.

He drove to Elizabeth’s house, knowing she was out. Lately she hardly did more than slither in the muck like a serpent, glorying in the disintegration of the earth around them. Only her Book of Shadows stood watch, and it would not recognize a demon as an enemy until too late.

Asa walked across the broken glass, feeling slivers of it slice into his rain boots, even into his feet. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but that stove glowing in the corner, the one that radiated such unearthly light and heat. The fuel inside looked like coals flickering with fire, lit up orange and blue within the ash. They would be hotter than coal could ever be.

Inside its light was everything Elizabeth had ever stolen—all the love she had taken from others in her unnatural lifetime.

He dropped to his knees and opened the stove. Its iron door burned his hand. Skin still red and smoking, he reached inside.