Ember Blackburn:I don’t know, Leland. Perhaps because you need more things than me
I didn’t know why he cared. I didn’t understand why he, of all witches, had to steal me away to Everden. Why he thought seeing me through the paralysishecaused now meant he could check up on me.
Ash wasn’t given a guide when it was her turn to come here. Or if she was, she never told me. And I didn’t know enough about Everden to know if this was typical — if I was on some kind of half witch watch list — so I worked up the nerve and asked.
Ember Blackburn:Is every half witch monitored with a guide like this? If Trist is available, I would like to switch my guide to her please. She was nice. Didn’t stab me.
Leland Stray:The only half witches I know are Blackburns. So, no. Everyone is not monitored like this. Nor do I want to bedoing it. No to a new guide. You can always contact me if you need anything.
I tossed the transmitter aside then took on the task of moving several tall stacks of books from the couch. All cleared, I sat on the lopsided cushions that appeared to have once been red before dust settled in. I curled up under a crocheted blanket and itched my nose at the resulting dust cloud. The house was totally silent. I steered my thoughts to Gray, finding a happy memory and watching it like a film. Which was how I spent the rest of the day until it was dark, Leland’s flickering lanterns were my only light source, and, finally, I went to sleep.
CHAPTER
FIVE
EMBER
Study lights and shadows. Study weights and forms. Study an object so well you can feel it in your hands without holding it. That is how you become an exceptional Creator.
— Charley Starvos, Echelon to the
School of Creation Magic
Iwoke up from the part of my dream where I was tossed through the air, just in time to hear thethudwhen I hit the ground.
My eyes lifted to an unfamiliar ceiling, high and angled, and it took me a moment to adjust to the fact that I wasn’t home in my bedroom. I put a hand on my stomach and glanced around. I was on the floor, in between Helen’s couch and coffee table. Everything was as I remembered it, until my gaze trailed up from the letterbox, and I saw the open front window.
I blinked, making sure I wasn’t still half asleep, because I knew exactly what I’d done last night, and I was certain I hadn’t opened that window. My first thought, in my disoriented state, was Leland. The only thing that made sense was that he’d opened it to spy on me. I’d be mad at him for it later, but, for now, it was fine.
The cool air blowing in and brushing my skin was the only thing that felt right. Everything else — fire. As was typical of the phantom flu, the symptoms that went hand-in-hand with my recurring nightmare.
It had started after Dad’s accident, and it was always the same.IfI managed to stay asleep through the tossing-me-through-the-air part, I always ended up on the ground, stuck in a never-ending loop of fear and gripped by a strong sense that something horrible was about to happen. Then, hard, quick steps crunched toward me, and the dream ended with guilt so overwhelming I drowned in it. Just like how I felt about the night I’d fallen asleep in Gray’s bed.
The hardwood groaned as I rolled myself up to a sitting position and rubbed my tailbone.
On the coffee table, my transmitter buzzed. Fortunately, the message that flashed on the screen was short, or I would not have been able to stand looking at it.
Leland Stray:Good morning.
I shut my eyes, not ready to deal with him. My leggings were heavy with sweat, my skin hot and claustrophobic beneath them. My empty stomach churned with nausea so violent I ached, and since there was no medicine that fixed this, my only reprieves were breathing and dissociating.
I envisioned Gray’s arm hooked around my waist until the room stopped swaying.Just a dream, I told myself, slowly inhaling.A dream, I repeated, easing out an exhale and counting out the beats.
When I was well enough, I pulled myself to the couch and buried my face in a lumpy cushion, which was where I was, like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, when I felt my transmitter vibrate again. I poked at it, still not fully coordinatedbut aware enough to understand Leland was picking me up in an hour.
I didn’t want to go anywhere with him, but — Everden. I was in Everden now.
I had no money, no food, and no way home. If I ever wanted to get back to Dad, I couldn’t sit around. I had to keep going. I had to figure out who to trust in this world, and that meant I’d need to leave the house. What I really wanted was to run away, but planning my escape currently meant spending the morning with Leland, which I would not be doing in yesterday’s reeking clothes.
I went to change, gritting my teeth and hating my options as I stared down the depths of Ash’s practically empty dresser. The few clothes she’d left behind were too small, naturally, because Ash was a pastiche of Helen’s delicate features and could make literally anything she wore look elegant. Running kept me healthy, and if I was being completely honest, my shape was decent. But while Ash was small-boned and naturally looked good in everything, I’d stolen her clothes enough times in the past to know I didn’t.
I decided on a black tube top made of stretchy cotton, hoping it was dark enough to hide the fact that I had no clean bra to wear with it. Ash’s light-wash jeans only fit because I hadn’t eaten, and even then I had to hike them all the way up. I was in a full sweat by the time I managed to close the button. I sighed, and it hurt. Today would be a fun day of not breathing.
* * *
Leland arrived in a bitter mood, hardly looking at me, stressed about needing to be somewhere, and all the while refusing to let us go.
Standing on the porch, he pressed his hand to the stone around the doorway. “Get. A jacket,” he said.
