“There’s a bridge at the top of the staircase. Then through the cemetery and the sorcières will be on the other side.”
The Medusa Steps were not nearly as wide as the steps behind the mirror in the opera house, which I had recently found out were called the Steps of Eternity. If my hips had been any wider, I would not have fit. There were no lights here, and we had to rely on Elena’s conjured little fireflies to guide us. Some places were so narrow we had to turn sideways to squeeze through. Each stair riser was about one and a half times the height of a usual step, and my calves burned as we ascended, up and up and up.
Finally, we came to the top, where an inconspicuous wrought-iron gate led into a quiet courtyard. We exited as quietly as we could; I inhaled deeply, my first breath of outside air in weeks. I gulped it down greedily and looked up. I hadn’t seen the sky in so many weeks either. Stars glittered overhead, illuminating that ancient canopy. I could make out Sirius flickering brightly. My father had taught me all about the stars and constellations, and I smiled softly, spying Orion just off the side of Sirius. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed those familiar lights.
“Follow me.” Elena made sure the coast was clear and we slinked away from the door.
A narrow pedestrian bridge spanned the glittering Sequana. It was quiet at this time of night, this part of town far enough away from the hustle and bustle of the entertainment district. What were my friends up to? Were they out dancing the nightaway at a club? Were they pounding cocktails at a speakeasy? Or just enjoying a quiet night in reading, without a care in the world? I gritted my teeth, squared my shoulders and resolved to find the answers I needed. If I could clear my name, could I come back up here, among the stars and the breeze, and the sweet night air blowing over the river? The trees had started to bud in the weeks that I’d spent Beneath. I missed it all. I missed my life.
We came to the cemetery soon enough, and I had to check to make sure the walls around my heart were completely intact. The mausoleums gaped at us as we hurried through. And on the far side, I saw them. Tents, twenty or so, rose up in the distance. Firelight flickered in the centre of them, and I could make out the sounds of a decent-sized group of people. Elena knew exactly where to go.
The tents were set up as a kind of travelling circus. There were several caravans and signs pointing to exhibits and oddities; eerie music was playing somewhere in the distance. Everything was centred on a circular performance area in the middle, and a handful of people watched the freak show.
There was a contortionist: a petite woman who was currently bent in half with her legs folded over her back, resting on the ground beside her shoulders. The effect was made all the more creepy as she wore a deer mask, with bifurcated antlers pointing toward the sky. Her legs walked all the way around her head, as that eerie, blank masked face stared straight ahead. Beside her, an enormous man put on a fire-eating show. His bare skin gleamed in the firelight; he wore nothing but a small pair of tight shorts, exposing every inch of flesh. He was stocky and broad; muscled, but not toned. He made a dramatic show of lighting the torch, bringing it up above his head and lowering it into his gaping mouth.
“Come on.” Elena grabbed my arm and steered me away from the odd performance. The shadows of the contortionistand the fire-eater danced on the walls of the tents around them, and that off-kilter music played on. I snapped out of my daze, following Elena.
The tent we were trying to find belonged to a woman called Strega Maria. Her tent was the farthest one, nestled right at the edge of the forest that stretched out behind the field on which the tents sat. The simple round canvas tent was small, advertised as a fortune teller with a rough sign. Only three or four people would fit in at a time, and it was pitch-black inside. A plume of smoke drifted up from a hole in the roof, which told us the occupant was in fact within. Elena approached the flap at the front with caution and motioned for me to come inside.
“Strega?” Elena spoke softly as we entered. The tent was stiflingly hot and smelled of burning herbs—something pungent and earthy. Feathers ruffled beside the door. An ancient looking crow sat atop a perch beside us. “Strega? My friend and I are here to see you. We have need of your assistance.”
“Elena?” A voice hissed from the darkness in the corner of the tent. A single floating orb of light illuminated the occupant.
She was horrible. A hunched, withered old crone, with thinning white hair and leathery skin. Her milky white eyes stared unblinkingly, crusted over at the edges. “Come closer, Elena, it has been so long…” I could make out the rotted teeth in her mouth, brown and jagged. She was dressed in a raggedy, tattered robe, with a beaded shawl across her bony shoulders. In the centre of the tent, there was a small fire with a large pot simmering away, releasing that pungent herbal scent.
“Strega, my friend has some questions that she needs answered. The answers are not possible to attain through… conventional methods.” Elena stepped closer to Strega Maria. I followed, her shadow for the evening. The stench coming off Strega Maria was awful—like she was rotting from the inside. I stifled my gag and tried to fix my face.
“Please.” The single word was all I could muster. I felt uneasy—for the first time since I had fled through the mirror, I felt like I was in danger.
Strega Maria breathed in deeply. “You reek of magic. Powerful magic.” She was… sniffing me. And I had no idea what she could have been smelling; I still couldn’t conjure anything more than a weak light. “I can help you, my dear, but it will cost you.” Her voice was unnerving, and a shiver crawled up my spine as she kept her attention on me.
“What is your price?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. Strega Maria stepped closer. It was everything I could do not to step back, not to turn around and run, but I stood my ground.
“What is your question?” Strega Maria rasped.
“Who was responsible for the chandelier disaster at the opera house?” The question slipped out of me before I could second guess myself.
“My magic can see and sense many things.” Strega Maria held out two twisted and withered hands, palms facing inward. Between them, onyx shadows twined and swirled. They looked different from the ones that sometimes surrounded Ciaran. “Dark spirits speak to me. They whisper all kinds of things that people don’t want known. Things that you couldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams.”
“Do they know who was responsible?” My breath hitched; my heart pounded in my ears. The answers felt close.
“They have ways of finding out. As I said. There is a cost.” Strega Maria had a wicked smile, showing off every single one of those jagged, rotten teeth.
“What is your price?” I repeated to her, voice less steady than before as those shadows continued to twist in her hands; they seemed to gather all around her.
“My price is simple. I shall trade the information you want for your name.” Strega Maria’s grin never faltered, her raspy voice filling the tent.
“My name?” I stuttered.
“Yes. Just your name. So simple. Your name in exchange for the answer you desire. It’s a steal, really.” The crone’s smile twisted into something evil.
“No. She won’t do it,” Elena hissed, interjecting on my behalf, “it’s not worth it. Don’t do it.” She sounded genuinely afraid.
But I needed to know. And what could she do with my name anyway? We had come all this way, and I wasn’t going back empty-handed. “Done.” I spoke before I could change my mind.
“Then it is a deal.” Strega Maria reached out her twisted hand, wreathed in shadows, and grasped mine. I felt a jolt go through me as she sealed the deal with her magic. Elena groaned. Several of the shadowy spirits swirled around me. My chest clenched.
“Seraphina Dallier.” Strega Maria chuckled as she took her hand back. I hadn’t even said anything, her unholy magic had learned my name on its own. Or perhaps those shadows had whispered it to her. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s you who requires answers about that night. My spirits shall find the truth.” She brought her hands to her thin lips and blew. The shadow spirits scattered into the darkness, and I felt them whoosh by us, borne on her foul breath. Elena shuddered.
