Who knows what trouble he’s causing in the spirit world?
“Remember, stay close,” I whisper to Karston for at least the tenth time since we jumped through the gate. It’s a testament to our newly flourishing friendship that he hasn’t started rolling his eyes at me yet. “Don’t touch anything. For that matter, don’t even look at any one thing for too long. Don’t try to talk to the spirits, either.”
Instead of frowning, Karston nods like he’s committing my words to memory.
My shoulders relax a little as the tunnel slopes downward and the twilit glow at the end grows brighter. We’re nearly there. The tunnel’s dirt floor gives way to springy grass underfoot, and above, a rich lavender sky flecked with stars. Straight ahead, I spot a familiar garden, where elderflower wine pours from a grand marble fountain and huge flowers bloom, though they give off none of the sweet fragrance one would expect.
“How does it feel, losing half your senses?” I joke, keeping my voice pitched low. It’s impossible to know who might be listening down here, though I don’t see any spirits flitting between the maze of hedgerows as I scan them for signs of Jax.
“Cold,” Karston says, giving me a hesitant smile and rubbing his bare arms. His deerskin vest was fine for practice, as was the old, thin shirt I borrowed from Simeon, but we’d be much more comfortable here if we had cloaks. “And everything looks so... pale. Washed out,” he whispers. “I miss home already.”
By the keen way he keeps turning his head to study everythingfrom the distant mountains to the silver-white trees lining the path as we approach the garden, he’s not really serious about that last part.
Still, it makes me wonder. “Where was home for you? Before the school, of course.”
“My parents’ dairy farm in Ethria Province.” So that’s where his slight accent comes from. Not wanting to pry, I lapse into silence as we walk, until he breaks it by adding, “I mostly miss the cows. And my mom’s apricot-and-ginger custard. And our cat—she used to terrorize the barn. And this cute guy who helped with the milking sometimes. And all the cute girls who showed up when we hosted cheese tastings...”
“Sounds like a life a lot of people would kill for,” I murmur, sneaking a glance at him as a muscle in his jaw tightens. “Myself included. Why leave it behind?”
He pauses on the path, turning to me. “Because my parents made being different a terrible thing. Because losing one family was worth the chance to gain a new one where I actually belong.” Softer, he says, “I guess I’m still different—everyone at the school is. But we celebrate that, instead of trying to hide it.”
I nod, satisfied with his answer, and we resume our hasty walk.
“What was it like for you, growing up?” he asks me a short while later, sounding slightly out of breath. I guess it’s a fair question, seeing as I pried into his life. “You started your necromancer’s training when you were really young, right?”
“Right. On my tenth birthday, to be exact. I’ll never forget the daymymentor, Master Cymbre, showed up at the convent with this scrawny boy in tow. He needed a haircut so badly, I couldn’t see his eyes, and he liked lizards, so I called him Evander Salamander for a whole year until he found a live one and put it on my head...”
As we make haste toward the garden, I find myself telling Karston things I don’t often share, because I’m not often asked about them. It’s nice, talking to someone who seems genuinely interested in hearing it all, who can offer an outsider’s perspective.
At last, we reach the garden’s edge, where I call softly, “Jax?” But my mind is elsewhere, turning over things I haven’t thought about in years, like whether my parents were forced to give me up or couldn’t wait to hand me off to the nuns at Death’s convent. Still, whatever their reason, I don’t think I much care. I’m happy with the family I was given: Master Cymbre, Evander, Simeon, and Jax.
Nipper suddenly makes a sound not unlike Lysander’s battle roar—a deep, booming noise straight from her chest that rattles on its way up her throat. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her make a noise other than playful little growls and yips.
She lunges forward, tugging the lead so hard it feels like she’s going to rip my shoulder out of its socket.
I grab the lead with both hands, wrapping the leather cord around my forearms and digging my heels into the ground. “What’s gotten into you?” I gasp as she pulls me forward, off my feet and toward the garden’s central courtyard.
She drags me over a bridge, past shiny fruit trees bearing apples and plums all year round, past a pale statue I’ve never seen before. The knees of my trousers are ripped, the skin undoubtedly scraped given how badly it’s stinging, and my elbows aren’t faring any better.
At least I haven’t seen any sign of Hadrien yet.
“Karston!” I hiss, not wanting to yell and potentially attract any Shades in the area. “Are you still with me?”
Twisting as much as I can while being thrown around like a sack of flour, I search for Karston, hoping to find him running in our wake.
I don’t see him anywhere. Shit.
“Bad dragon!” I splutter as Nipper finally stops dragging me. “Very bad! I thought we were friends, Nip.”
Apparently she’s reached the destination she was seeking with so much urgency: the big fountain. She slithers up the steep marble side and flicks her forked tongue into the bubbling stream of dark wine.
If she were human, tasting anything down here would trap her in this world forever. But as she keeps lapping, seemingly unchanged, I suppose our rules don’t apply to her.
“You’re the worst, you know that?” I groan as I push myself to my feet, wiping the biggest chunks of dirt and grass from my cuts. My heart thuds against my ribs with the speed of a jackrabbit as I call again, “Karston? Jax?” and get no answer.
What if Karston is lost? Surely he already knows that the Deadlands are constantly shifting, moving mountains from here to there in the span of a heartbeat. I’ll just have to trust that he knows his best chances of being rescued are to stay put until I can find him—unless, of course, he spots a gate and rescues himself.
Hoping Nipper isn’t about to go anywhere now that she has what she wants, I untangle her lead from my hands and take a few steps away from the fountain, peering through gaps in the trees and flowering bushes that surround this small courtyard area.
