Storm (7 page)

Chapter Twelve

Carter

I stare over all the words on the board. These don’t feel random. I reach for the bag, Vassago grabs my elbow.

“The questions that are coming, I have already answered for you.” He says. His eyes take on a light white color for a second, th
e same look they’ve had before when he was delivering a prophecy.

“I don’t have any questions,” besides what he’s talking about.

Vassago drops my arm and taps the table. “I said the ones that are coming. The ones the change will bring. She will be marked, and the time will be upon us.”

Whoa.“She? Who is she?” I look at the word MAUVE.

He doesn’t look away from me. “Remember the balloon.”

“The red balloon?” What the hell is happening right now?

He grows quiet and after some awkward silence, I look back at the board, unsure of what move to make. It’s my turn, right? I’ve lost track now.

“You need another letter,” he says calmly.

I take another from the bag and stare at everything in front of me. Letters that don’t fit on the board yet. Clues that I don’t understand. Answers to questions I haven’t asked.

“It’s unnatural for things to become what they were not intended to be,” Vassago says in the silence. I look at him again. “Other times what they are intended is not what they must become. Keep in mind the words I told you before.” He motions toward the board. “Your move still.”

What he told me. The only other time we talked was…“In the bar?” I ask. He gave us the prophecy or vision or whatever name it has.
There is one who seeks the same as you and one who hides the truth from you. Only when the two meet shall the lost be found.
I make my move because he taps the board. “I thought we dealt with that. It was about my mom, and Pen’s family secret. Is there more?”

Vassago grins. “There is always more, Mr. Prescott.”

I cross my arms as he studies the board. “You’re really unhelpful.”

A hand flutters to his heart. “I service to the lost, and you are lost, but she is more lost than you. I found you because I find the lost. This is my duty. Your duty is to protect your partner at any cost.” His eyes narrow in on me. “Especially when your partner is also the girl you love.”

I groan. “Stop talking in riddles. I don’t understand what you’re saying to me.”

Vassago doesn’t even blink. “Serve, assist, and guide. This is our purpose.” Then, in a quick movement, he points to the board. “Your turn still.”

I throw the letters I have on the board and spell DEMON. Vassago rubs his hands together. “A good chess strategy suggests that when you develop your pieces, you make moves that threaten. Moves that can come as unexpected.”

“We’re not playing chess,” I say.

“Aren’t we?” he responds.

Quickly, he places down his tiles. The word “cent” has been changed. Now it says

OBSERVANCE

I point to the Scrabble board. “What is all this, Vassago?”

“Have you noticed how Scrabble is like chess? It’s strategic, and much like life in that you must think two moves ahead of your opponent. I like a good challenge, and you do as well, or you wouldn’t be out here in the middle of the night.”

Middle of the night, right. Today has sucked. I came out to escape it all. I look at the board at all the words and then back at Vassago. “How did you have this whole set-up ready and waiting for me, Vassago?”

He sits up in the seat. “I knew you would come.”

“How?”

“The change is upon us, and it was your destiny—and mine—to be here.”

“Destiny, huh?” I look at the board and a few letters. “What if I had said I didn’t want to play?”

Vassago smiles. “You are a Prescott. You were taught never to back down from a challenge. That is part of your path. Some destinies are chosen for us. Others we choose. Others are left up to us to determine.”

I put my last tiles on the board and write PEACE. “Which one is yours?”

Vassago looks at the board, and then at me. “That’s still to be decided.”

I glance at my phone. Three a.m. “I should probably get home.”

He nods his head thoughtfully, eyes on the board. I stand up from the table, feeling more unsettled than I did before I left home. Vassago studies the board and then he smiles. He picks up a final few letters and places them down. He spells out QUEEN.

“I think I win with that,” he says.

“Thanks for playing,” I say, extending my hand.

Vassago looks at it for a moment before taking it. “A change is coming, Mr. Prescott. A storm is forming that will soon arrive. Every side will be playing soon, so prepare your moves.”

I glance back at the board. OBSERVANCE is where my eyes go first, and then across the rest of the board. This game with Vassago and the conversation with Poncho from earlier must connect. Poncho mentioned a destiny, and Vassago has, too. Maybe destiny centers around the Observance?

He drops my hand. “Be sure you don’t bring your Queen out too early. The King may be the goal, but the Queen is the most powerful.”

…

It’s nearly morning when I get home. Uncertainty has settled in my chest that I can’t ignore. I grab a piece of paper and start writing down the words on the Scrabble board, before I forget. If the conversations and the words on the Scrabble board are one piece, then I should figure what he was trying to say.

CHECK. REMAIN. DAGGER. MAUVE. OBSERVANCE. QUEEN.

I only have guesses here. ‘Queen’ could be Penelope, but why? Queen of what? Mauve is that demon. It’s conveniently around lately and I can’t ignore that. ‘Observance’ is obviously the party. ‘Dagger’—is that the black one? It could be any dagger, I guess. I don’t know what ‘remain’ is, or ‘check.’

Vassago talked about chess a lot. In chess, check is when the other player’s king is in danger. The threat must be stopped or the king needs to move. If the king can’t be moved then it’s a checkmate and that player loses. Vassago laughed when I changed check into checkmate.

If Pen’s the queen then then who’s the king? Or is Pen the king? She could be the king.

I’m too tired for this.

I leave the paper on my desk and head to bed. As soon as I’m there, the WNN dings. I have thirty-six missed notifications, all attacks on demons and Statics. But it’s a message that makes me freeze. A message from the Council to Pen and me. We have a meeting with them after Maple’s funeral.

Chapter Thirteen

Penelope

During the funeral, Ric didn’t say anything. He sat there, sandwiched among his mom, me, and Connie, staring, and when he managed to make eye contact, his eyes were empty. I could almost see the pain in them like a tangible thing.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Ric says softly, tossing his
carry-on bag toward the ground. I see the grimace at the simple motion, even if he’ll never admit it.

Mrs. Norris sees it too because her eyes widen with concern. “I’ll get our tickets,” she says, leaving Ric and me awkwardly standing out of place in our freshly-pressed funeral clothes. Maple’s only been buried for hours and Ric is already leaving. The Triad said Ric should get away, that he needs time to recover from his injuries. Which is a fancy way of saying they need time to figure out if he should get a new partner. And who.

His mom agreed, and now that his dad is back from his honeymoon, it’s a solution. One Ric is not thrilled about.

I slip my arms around Ric into a hug. He kisses my cheek, but that sad look is still in his eyes. I want to know what he’s feeling, but I also don’t. I can’t imagine it at all. “Don’t give your dad too hard of a time.”

Ric groans. “I’m more worried about the step-diva. Can I call her my stepmom if she’s only a few year older than us?”

“As long as you don’t call her ‘step-diva’ to her face I’m sure it will be fine.”

Ric looks over his shoulder toward his mom. She’s only dropping him off to his dad’s car, and then she’s on another plane to wherever she has to go next. “Mom said it was a good chance to face some demons. I told her I do that every day, and she didn’t laugh.”

“At least your dad is still alive,” I say. Ric sighs, but I don’t regret saying it. I’d say it again because I want him to remember that. We’ve both lost enough people. “You have a second chance—I’d hate to see you miss out on it.”

“I’m stuck in a house with him for the duration of this restcation. I won’t miss anything.” Ric pushes the bag up on his shoulder. “I’ll call you.”

“Boarding pass acquired. See you, Penelope,” Mrs. Norris says. Ric steals another hug and then with a final glance back, he’s gone. The high-low-high notes of the WNN chime. I expect another attack of some sort, but it’s not. It’s a reminder/repeat message about my meeting with the Triad in an hour.

Your attendance is mandatory.

I shove the phone into my pocket. It’s not like I could forget.

…

The counsel chambers are empty. Nothing except the sound of the clock fills the empty waiting room. I close my eyes and take a breath. Deep, cleansing breaths and happy thoughts run through my head, but they can’t stop this. Whatever this is. Somehow, it feels like all the things I’ve worked for are this close to being gone.

“We’re going to be fine,” Carter whispers in my ear. He squeezes my hand tightly until I look at him. He says it with so much conviction that I wish it was true.

The council summoned us two hours ago, and we’ve been sitting here. Waiting.

“They’re looking for more details about Maple and Taylor Plum. It’s nothing, Pen.”

“How can you be sure?”

Carter takes my hand. “They’re going to ask some questions. We’ll answer them, and we’ll leave. That’s it.” I start to protest but he puts a finger to my lips. “Whatever is going on, we’ll get through this.” He presses a quick kiss to my lips and I smile.

He’s right. This is nothing more than a checkup. That’s it. They said they’d be looking into the Static situation, so that has to be all this is. Some questions.

The door opens and Mrs. Bentham stands in front of us, her hair pulled back in its usual up-do and her cheeks pinched. Behind her is Ellore, stunning as ever. I haven’t seen either of the councilwomen in the week since our partnering ceremony, but now neither of them are smiling.

“Miss Grey, Mr. Prescott, come with us,” Mrs. Bentham says.

That’s all. No ‘hello’ or smiles or ‘good to see you’. This is so bad.

Carter takes my hand and we follow behind Ellore and Mrs. Bentham out the door. The Nucleus House is alive with people, and maybe it’s in my head, but all of them look at us as we pass. Ellore and Mrs. Bentham lead us down a hallway back into the testing rooms for Enforcer Examinations.

“It has come to our attention that the two of you have committed an indiscretion. The council and the Triad frown upon these accusations.”

“I thought this was about the Statics?” I say.

Carter squeezes my hand tighter, but I replay the attack in my head and wonder what the accusations could be. Could they know about De’Intero? “What exactly is our indiscretion?” I ask.

Ellore and Mrs. Bentham exchange a look. A cold one. Mrs. Bentham crosses her arms. “You cheated on the Enforcer Examinations.”

They know.

How could they find out?

What else did they discover? Do they know about the Statics? That I didn’t have magic on my own when I took it? My whole family could get into trouble…

Carter squeezes my hand like an anchor. “That’s not even possible.”

Mrs. Betham still doesn’t say anything, but she looks at me, and there’s a curiosity in her eyes.

Ellore says. “We’re following procedure.”

Mrs. Bentham continues, “It has been mentioned, and now that it has we simply cannot turn a blind eye. We are giving you an opportunity.”

Carter glances at his cousin. “Ellore, is this for real?”

I can’t say anything. My mind is racing, but unable to focus on anything. All my thoughts are fleeting, swirling like smoke.

Ellore nods. “Very real.”

“We’re giving you both a chance to prove to us that this accusation is wrong,” Mrs. Bentham adds.

“It is wrong,” Carter says. But I can’t speak about it, because it’s not. We did cheat—even if I’d never thought of it that way.

“Good,” Mrs. Bentham interjects. “Then you have nothing to worry about. Mr. Prescott, with me. Miss Grey, with Ellore.”

That snaps me out of it. “What?”

“We’re going to re-test you both separately. With me.” She points to the left.

I look at Carter over my shoulder, and beneath his calm exterior, I can see in his eyes that he’s freaking out. Normally, I’d freak out, too. This is our future. But he doesn’t know what Lia told me. The void is more than me pulling from him now. It wants me. I could be powerful with it. This could be the thing that saves me.

Ellore pulls me into a familiar white room. A simulation.

“Penelope,” Ellore says, lowering her voice into a whisper. “I don’t think you did anything. This is a precaution, a piece of the investigation into Miss Lin’s death, that’s all. We had an anonymous tip and it’s our job to follow up.”

I don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. She’s right. I can do this. A week ago, I’d be screwed, but now I have an advantage.

“This will start as soon as I leave and you’ll have five minutes.”

The room flashes a warning, but I’m ready. The void is ready, a steady pulsing. In a moment the white fades away from me and I’m standing in the middle of the National Mall. They put me in the middle of the action. It’s a sunny day, tourists walking around and people playing Frisbee on the lawn. Everywhere I look there are people, which means I’m going to have to do whatever is happening without drawing unneeded attention.

And I have five minutes.

Last time I had a simulation during the Enforcer Examinations, I had to find the demon and a weapon to fight it. I bet this is similar. I’ll have to find the demon myself—it’s not going to attack me. And it’s probably in Non form—since there are so many around.

I look to my left and right. One way leads up to the Capitol building, and the other toward the Washington Monument. It could be in any one of the Smithsonian museums or monuments for miles. I bet there are even more Nons inside, so that would be nearly impossible to find in five minutes.

No, it would be outside. I feel like it’s outside.

How much time is left?

I should go and stop debating.

Eeny meeny miney mo—the Monument it is.

I pick up my pace and head toward the other side of the mall. The music from the carousel fills my ears, and I glance at it ahead. I used to like that thing. Before the demon, Azsis, killed my parents, I came here with them. Connie was a baby, but I remember my dad let me pick out my seat. I chose this white horse, but it was next to this really creepy blue and green seahorse and I cried. Dad stood in front of it the whole time and said he wouldn’t let it hurt it me.

I push away the memory because this is so not the time for emotional instability. I doubt the Council or the Triad would allow that to be a reason for failure. What would happen to me if I fail? I don’t even want to think about that.

As I get in front of the carousel, I smell sulfur. A crowd is gathered around the ride, kids waiting in line and old people watching. Crap. One of them is definitely a demon. I walk through them trying to figure out which. No weird eyes. No black sulfur dust in the ears. The demon can’t be on the carousel because I’m sure that thing has iron on it. Maybe it’s not even anywhere near me yet.

I take a few steps closer to the carousel and the scent gets stronger. There’s a tug on my shirt and I jump. It’s a kid, a girl with black curls.

“Do you have a quarter? I don’t have enough money.”

I reach in my pocket and pass it over. As soon our hands touch I look at the little girl, and she smiles. “Thank you,” she says. But it’s not right. Her eyes are bright green, tinged in red, and her smile isn’t innocent. It’s evil. Oh, boloney…

The little girl gets in line the carousel.

She can’t get on it, right? It’s iron. Demons don’t do iron. But then she does. Crap. This is a test. A big test. She’s not a real demon—she’s a simulation. Maybe simulated demons can handle iron horses, or maybe this is a special case. But those eyes are unmistakably demon.

I jump on the carousel before it takes off and follow the little girl around to the seat of her choice. Once she’s sitting, I sit near the assumed demon girl. The music starts and the whole foundation moves around and up and down. It makes me a little sick. What am I going to do?

I can’t use magic against the demon with people watching, and there’s no way I’d get the cloaking spell up in time to do both. Or be inconspicuous about it.

Think, Penelope, think.

I push the demon girl off the carousel once we’re on the opposite side of the crowd. I wait for some angry mother to attack me, but nothing. The girl hisses at me, and in seconds the demon sheds the girl’s skin. Now I’m face to face with a real-live pearl-colored demon.

It lunges at me and I move out of the way. Another lunge, another move. There’s a light post behind me, so I stand closer to it. When the demon attacks again, I move quickly enough that I think it’s caught. But it’s not. These simulations are smarter than real demons. Or the whole iron thing doesn’t work here, which, considering the carousel, makes sense.

I focus on the void. I try to see everything in my head—my magic bursting and filling me up. Killing this demon, guts all over the place. It’s hard to access, like there’s a wall between it and me. If I can’t do this then we’ll be separated, I’ll be stripped of my badge, and my family. If they find out I can’t do magic, then he’s lost to me forever. My family is lost forever. I’m nothing.

I hate that. And I hate the demons for putting me here. And I hate that I can’t change any of this.

Suddenly, the magic burns at my stomach. The sensation means the void is ready.

But I have to make this look convincing. I rip the salt-filled charm off my neck and toss the salt on the demon. It cries out in pain. A bell dings somewhere in the distance—a one-minute warning. It’s now or never.

The magic is so strong that I feel like my skin is melting, exploding, and I have to get it out. I focus on the demon and yell the incantation for good measure.

“
Vitute angeli ad infernum unde venistis!”
The words are barely out when the magic comes pouring out of me. It feels endless and strong, and I see it coming from my fingertips, and it’s so bright I have to squint.

The demon explodes in an instant. Translucent guts all over the place. It takes me a second to regain control of the magic, because it doesn’t want to stop. Like it’s stronger than me. I have to close my eyes and pull it back in. It makes my head pound, and I cry out in pain, falling to my knees.

Then I’m back in the white room.

Everything falls back into place within me, except my spinning head.

The door clicks open. Ellore is standing before me again, her eyes wide. “We don’t…I’ve never…”

I look toward her, and her face is pale. She’s never seen it before—the magic be literally shooting through my pores. Because it’s not Essence. It’s not normal. What happened?

Ellore pushes a finger to her ear, someone is talking to her through that thing. What are they saying? Her eyes get wide again when she looks at me. “Come with me,” she says. Her voice shakes. I messed up. I totally messed up.

But how? It’s never done that before.

I push away from the wall and look down at my shaky hands. And that’s when I see it. On my left hand pinky finger, there’s a small black dot, purplish.

I scrub at it, but the spot doesn’t come off. It’s not a spot on my fingernail, but under it. I’m pretty sure that only happens when you hurt yourself. Like the time I slammed my finger into a car door.

I’m positive that wasn’t there before.