Storm (17 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

Penelope

I can’t feel my toes anymore in my running shoes.

The temperature dropped overnight, and it hasn’t gone up. I should stop running, but if I stop then I realize that I have three days. It doesn’t feel like enough time to finish conne
cting to the void, or fix any of the mess I’ve made. It’s all I’ve been doing since Maple died, trying to clean up messes, but I’m only making them worse. So, running it is.

I spent the entire day yesterday, until Carter interrupted, with Lia. And when he took me home, I went back out with her. Only my face and feet remain unchanged by the void. The glamour I make for the blackness isn’t as strong as Lia’s yet, so I still need her to do it.

I feel lonely. Everyone is preoccupied with the Observance. I’m not home when Pop and Gran are there, and since Gran and I aren’t really speaking now it’s probably for the best. They’re always with Connie. I want to go see her, to be with her, but if I’m with her then I’m not practicing, and I’m emotional, which won’t save her. I haven’t talked to Carter since he dropped me off yesterday, not even a text.

On instinct or auto-pilot, I end up at the Nucleus House. I can’t see anything beyond what the Nons see, the Capital of the United States. A white building with gold top. There’s no alternate entrance, no magic hiding beneath the surface. At least not for me. Even the Static door, which is usually ten spaces to the left of the main entrance, is a wall. Being marked sucks.

Lia appears beside me. “I hate being this close to so many witches.”

She can see them and I can’t. I wonder what they’re doing. Knowing Mrs. Bentham, I’m sure the whole party will be extraordinary. Even if it’s inappropriate to celebrate when so many people are dying.

“Then leave.” I’m not really in the mood.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” she says back.

I roll my eyes. “Why are you here right now?”

“There’s a snag in our procedure,” she says. “I can’t get one of the herbs—the Dragooni. Apparently, it’s out of stock.”

“Did you go to Target? They have everything.”

I’m still not looking her. My eyes are out there, where I know the witches are. “You need to get us some for the Restitution.”

I look toward Lia. Of course she does. I do everything. “Where do I get it? You’re the demon.”

A smile creeps up on Lia’s face, and I was not trying to be amusing. The fact that she thinks I am annoys me even more. I turn away from her, but she walks alongside me.

“I can’t ‘get it’ like buying a dress, and you can’t, either—but you know someone who knows someone who can.”

“Who?”

…

I release the button on the relay and balance my footing. The lights are off in the library, which is creepy and weird, since the lights have never been off while I’m here. I press my hand against the wall and use it as a guide to Poncho’s office. The door is closed, but light shines through the crack of it. He’s in there. I knock three times before the door opens.

“Miss Grey, back again,” he says, barely looking up from his desk.

“I missed your charm,” I say, moving into his office.

“I’m certain.”

I stop a few feet from his desk, petting the cats’ heads. I shouldn’t be surprised that Lia sent me to Poncho.

“You seem to be in thought.”

“Yeah, it’s been a weird couple of days.” To say the least. When I look up, Poncho is watching me, eyebrows taut with concern. I think that’s what it is, anyway. It’s not entirely easy to tell what someone is thinking by their eyebrows. “What?”

“You are stressed.”

“A little busy,” I say.

“Secrets have a way of eating at us,” he says. Poncho’s eyes grow wide, examine me, and then soften. “Why are you here today?”

“I have a question.” He waves me on to ask, his attention fully focused on me, and I sit in a large chair. “I’m looking for an herb called Dragooni. Do you know where I can find that?”

He
hmms
and rubs his hands. “Dragooni is forbidden in the witch community. A rare herb with tremendous use, it’s only found in the distant mountains of the Himalayans, and can only be plucked from its home by the power of one who serves selflessly.”

Perfect. Let me go find a good fairy with selfless morals. “So, that’s a no?”

“It is not a no.”

I smile. “So, it’s a yes?”

“You asked where you could find it. I’ve answered that,” Poncho says, looking back at his desk.

Right. “Can you get some for me?”

Poncho raises his eyebrow. “What is your use for Dragooni?”

I debate lying to him, but then I realize that he’s staring at the blackness on my hands—or where it is under the glamour—so he probably already has that answer, too. “I’m getting my magic back.”

“That is used in the Restitution,” he says.

“That’s the last piece I need so I can do it.”

He stares at my hand. There’s nothing. “This is the path you choose?”

I shuffle my feet and lean against the desk. “Yes,” I say.

Poncho seems like he wants to object, but he doesn’t. “I can assist you. It will take a couple of days.”

“Thank you, Poncho.” A couple of days. That will be right in time for the Observance.

“May I give you some advice?”

“You will anyway,” I say.

“Only if you want it.”

“Sure, then. What’s your advice?”

“You alone can undo what has been caused,” he says.

I stare at him. “What does that mean?”

“You sought an answer, and you have found it. It is not in hiding. You alone can undo what is.”

“I hate your riddles.”

He shrugs. “This is not a riddle.”

It is, but okay.

I turn to leave, but pause. “Can you answer one more thing?”

Poncho lowers a pen and nods in my direction. One of the cats rubs up next to his hand and he pets it. “If it is possible.”

“You said guiding me was your destiny. Why?”

Seak the cat jumps off the desk toward me, but then stalks off into the stacks. Poncho moves away from the reference desk and sits in a chair closer to where I’m standing. “Our paths intersected long ago, before I knew your parents.”

My parents. I push down the pain that bubbles up. What would they think of me now? Not that they could change any of this or make it better. The void is already part of me. I’m part of the void. More demon than witch. I have been for years, and maybe I would’ve been even without Azsis taking my essence.

I sit next to Poncho. “You’ve never told me what they were to you.”

Poncho rests his hands on the top of the table. “I go back a long time with your family. I have existed for centuries alongside them, back to Beatrice and Clara.” Emmaline Spencer’s daughters. My great-great-great-great-great-grandma. That’s a long time of being alive, of existing.

“Are you a vampire?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Those are fictional,” he says. I start to say I’m joking, but he keeps talking. “Demons do not always age the same as humans.”

Demon
. He’s never admitted that out loud to me.

“What are days for us could be years for you. I was not, back then, connected to this witch world. I was but a boy when they were living, and barely a man when your grandmother was a child.”

He knew child-Gran? What was that like? I bet she was pretty terrifying even then.

“For centuries I served all as a sage—I was sought after by demon and witch and human alike. Sages were highly respected then, honored even, and sages served all, not one. Later, I had to become two in order to serve both sides.”

“That’s why you became Vassago. Do you have a split personality like some Jekyll and Hyde freakozoid?” He shoots me dagger eyes, and I put up a hand in defense. “What happened that made you become two people?”

Poncho’s eyes get that far-off look in them. Not like a prophecy, but like a memory. “I am not two, I am one. I am myself, the one before you, but times changed. The belief in the power of a sage for Nons decreased, witches avoided all things demonic, and only with the demons I found a welcoming home,” he says. “Then, sixty years ago I saw a vision. Witches killing other witches and turning demonic. In my vision, it was chaos, and I, being a servant of all, knew I should come forward—but if I spoke up, then I risked my life. So, I said nothing, did nothing. Until it happened.”

He means when the family name went bad because of Emmaline Spencer’s choices. Gran was a child when it all started. A bunch of witches woke up and claimed they were demonic. They killed other witches, and the Enforcers went on a hunt for halflings. The Triad wiped it out of history as much as they could, like they still wipe out halflings when they find them.

Poncho knew that was going to happen.

“I came to the Triad and offered my assistance. We prevented deaths, and I traded them for a favor to be paid later, and went home.” He pauses and moves from the table. I watch as he walks around the room, seemingly nervous. “But home was not the same. I was no longer welcome there. One demon in particular, with a fascination for souvenirs from his victims, wished for my exile. He saw me as a betrayer, and refused to let me into the inner circles of our life. We battled, as demons do, and he won. He was much stronger than me, for I was not a fighter but a guide. I was banished and then given refuge here, in exchange for what I’d done.”

He gestures around the library, arms out, when he finishes.

“Is he gone now, this demon? Is that why you can go outside?”

Poncho’s eyes focus on mine. “He’s not gone. Not yet. Poncho Alistair is only safe here.”

“So, Vassago is how you go outside. And all those files in the computer about Vassago?”

Poncho disappears into the stacks for a moment and returns with Hyde. He walks back toward the table, but doesn’t sit. “They were intentionally placed there once I was sent here. Sages have a purpose, and even though I am locked away here, I must serve. Vassago is how I fulfill that role, a service to all. I knew a time was coming when I would be needed again. I developed a new image so I could fill the role needed for any who sought guidance.”

“So, which one is the real you—Vassago or Poncho?”

“Both are me. I am both. We can be each other, yet neither.”

I roll my eyes. “That makes no sense.”

“Not all things make sense in this world,” he says.

I tap my fingers along the tabletop. He didn’t tell me anything about my parents, but him being a sage makes everything clearer. It’s the reason he talks in riddles—the reason he can only answer certain questions. Sages have a purpose.

“I first met your parents when they were in training, and there was special quality about them both,” he says. My ears seem to perk up and I sit up straighter in the chair. I can almost see them in here, how they looked back then, talking with Poncho like I am now. “It was only a short period after they were Paired before they got married. We didn’t really speak much until around that time. They would come in to research cases, and I provided them with sources, as I do with everyone who seeks my help. Your parents came to me once they discovered they were pregnant with you.”

“With me?”

He nods. “I remember the day. They came in looking for information. Genevieve was highly distraught, Owen demanding. He was usually the quiet one. We worked on that one until after you were born. I held you once.”

“Sweet,” I say with a smile.

“You spit up on me.”

Or not. Should I apologize for that or would it be weird?

“Why were they upset?” About me, is what I leave out. I don’t know anything about that. Did they want me? Were the ready? Was I a burden more than a joy? My parents were amazing, so the thought of that makes me a little sick.

“I can’t remember.” Wait…that’s not cool. “I should get that,” he says.

“Get what—” And then the phone rings. Sneaky.

Emmaline Spencer had a secret. Her daughters had secrets. Gran had a secret. My parents had a secret. I have secrets. Maybe all the Warren women are woven and bonded with secrets.

When he hangs up I whisper, “Was it the demon bloodline thing?” He blinks. “The reason my parents were upset. Because I already know about that so…”

He considers this for a moment and then says, “I’m certain it must have been. I will inform you when the Dragooni arrives.”

And that is when I know it wasn’t.

Back outside, I call Ric. I haven’t talked to him for a week now since he’s been in Texas with the injury, and with this new information about my parents I need him to reassure me. He answers on the third ring.

“I miss you,” I say.

“Come visit,” he says. “I’m finally up and moving. We can have a dance party.”

That sounds remarkable. “I can’t leave right now. It’s not a good time.”

“I wish I could be there with you right now.” I wish that too, but I don’t say it. I don’t say anything, for a long second, because my mind is racing. If he was here or I was there, maybe none of this would be happening. “Connie’s going to pull through this, Penelope.”

Connie. I wasn’t even thinking about her for once and now I am. The way she used to follow us around when we were kids, and Ric was my only other friend so I’d get mad at her for wanting to be around him. Really, she wanted to be around me. “You can’t be certain of that.”

“You’re right, I can’t.”

Silence fills the line. That’s not what I want him to say. I want him to say she’s going to be perfect. That all of this will be over soon or I’ll wake up to find it’s all been some horrible nightmare. A fake one instead of a real one.

“Ric, I think I did something stupid.”

He’s quiet and for a second I wonder if he heard me. My heart is racing with the possibility of him knowing, of telling someone. “What? I’m the king of stupid.”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Okay…”

“I mean, I can’t. But I want to.”

“What is it?”

Silence again. He’s waiting on the line and I’m not even sure what I’m going to say or where to start. The beginning, I guess.

“There’s this demon.” And as soon as I say it I regret it. I can’t see his face, but I can imagine it. Twisted and hard. Just like Carter’s. Like mine used to be.