“You’re not telling us something.”
“Yes.” Eli smiled again. A piece of china was stuck between her teeth.
Tav exhaled loudly. “If you could complete your mission, would you?”
“Yes,” Eli answered immediately. That’s what she was built for, and the only thing she was good at. She was a hunter, and she needed prey.
“Then I guess we’re lucky you failed.” Tav stood and pulled on their leather gloves. “And let’s hope you don’t find your mark before we complete our mission.”
While the magic threads that connected the world had always been tightest at the points of power — the Coven and its mirror, City Hall — those threads had begun to unravel. Tav explained this to Eli and Cam as they drove to the designated cut site in a “borrowed” pink jeep.
“The main stitch is being watched too closely. And we already know it rejected you,” they were saying. Eli winced at the word rejected but said nothing. “But there are other stitches, just as there are other pathways, other streams of magic, other lines of connection between the worlds.”
“I think that’s part of the coming-of-age ceremony,” said Eli, suddenly remembering the images Kite had sent into her mind after returning (speaking of the ceremony was, of course, forbidden). “A witch has to sew a new seam, pulling the worlds tighter together, and to do that they have to come to the human world and steal —” She shut up, suddenly embarrassed, feeling she had said too much.
If for generations the witches had been keeping the worlds tied together, why were they now threatening to pull it apart? What had changed? Her mind raced with possibilities.
“I thought witches couldn’t speak of it in your world,” said Cam. “The Hedge-Witch said the ceremony was a secret.”
“There are ways around it,” Eli said.
She remembered that day. She had been waiting on their island, lips turning blue from the cold. Lonely and scared. Worried that Kite couldn’t come back to her. When Kite had finally emerged, dripping-wet hair littered with cigarette butts and candy wrappers, Eli remembered thinking that she had never looked so beautiful. Kite had wrapped her arms around Eli and shared those raw thought-feelings across their minds. Eli saw dark, then felt a piercing, a change in the atmosphere, and then there was light, blurs of faces and buildings, a doorway in the sky, like the Vortex but different — it smelled different. It smelled like Kite. Like crustaceans and saltwater and pearls.
“Anyway,” said Tav, “we’re going to reopen one of the smaller seams. The Hedge-Witch’s. The one she used to get here.”
Eli nodded. It made sense. The only risk was that the Coven was monitoring it, but it seemed unlikely — there were too many of these stitches between worlds for the Coven to watch them all. Maybe they would be lucky.
The stitch turned out to be in an innocuous side street overrun by weeds and wildflowers and broken bottles. “When I open it, hold on to me,” directed Tav. “I don’t want one of us left behind.”
“The Vortex doesn’t take humans,” said Eli. “I don’t see how this is going to work.”
“How do you know?” asked Cam. “Have you tried bringing humans across before?”
That shut her up. Because Circinae told me and I never questioned her. She shook her head. “It’s still a risk,” Eli muttered.
“We know,” said Cam quietly. He hadn’t said very much during the drive. Maybe the reality of what they were about to do was hitting him. Eli glanced at her companions and cringed at how woefully unprepared they looked — a boy with a backpack, Tav forcing a cocky pose like a performer on a stage. Had they ever killed anyone? The Hedge-Witch’s magic tricks were nothing compared to the full power of the Coven.
And the Coven was nothing compared to the wild magic of the world itself.
“It’s less likely to reject us if I’m there,” said Eli, softening her harsh words. “Let’s all hold on to each other.”
Tav sighed. “Here goes nothing.” They held out one of the aloe plants the Hedge-Witch cultivated in her café.
For a moment, nothing happened.
“It’s supposed to recognize the signature of her essence and reopen,” said Tav nervously. “She was sure this would work.”
Three bodies shivered under an overcast sky.
Then the plant started growing, sending great tendrils of greenblack racing into the clouds. Tav dropped the pot and it shattered into jagged pieces of clay at their feet. And still the plant kept growing. It grew glittering spines and deadly thorns and delicate shimmering petals. Where it breached the sky, the clouds swirled around it, turning to steel and iron, stone and fire. The air suddenly became very cold. Eli could see her breath hanging in the air.
The dark clouds hardened and froze above them. A tiny crack appeared, like an earthquake was tremoring across worlds. Beside her, Tav and Cam stared in awe at the rip in the sky, at the monstrous plant they had unleashed on the universe.
“Hold on!” Eli grabbed their arms roughly and dragged them into the shadow of the chasm.
Black.
Cold.
Emptiness.
Her hands were empty.
She couldn’t see anything.
One slow, painful breath.
A burning in her lungs.
Then hands again, sweaty skin pressed against hers. And light, a blinding grey — but her made-eyes adjusted far faster than human ones. Eli blinked.
The City of Eyes.
But as she looked around, she realized she had no idea where they were.
Eighteen
Eli felt it in her bones. She was home. The cells of her body sang to the music of the magic that pulsed from the core of the world. It felt right. Joy mingled with relief at having made her way back.
She looked around. A bronze desert stretched endlessly in all directions. Spiky plants burst from the soil at odd intervals in acidic greens and poisonous purples. The land smelled of decay and loneliness. The air tasted stale, like an attic that had been lost to time. She glanced down and saw what looked like a pink plastic Barbie heel next to her foot. A few paces away lay a tattered mink coat. It was as if someone had upended a trunk of broken things onto the sand and left them half-buried. It was strange, even for the City of Eyes.
She’d never been here before.
Her human companions were regaining their liveliness. “I think I’m gonna puke,” gasped Cam. He dropped his bag onto the sand beside him. “Let’s not do that again.”
“I still have goosebumps.” Tav’s voice sounded hollow. “It was like being nowhere and everywhere at once.”
Eli grabbed their wrist and squeezed. “We’re here. We survived. That’s something.”
“Are you trying to hold my hand?” Tav asked. “Maybe you should come closer and warm me up.”
Eli pulled her hand away and flushed. Still, it was good that Tav seemed to be recovering. Eli’s fingertips were smoking where they had grazed Tav’s skin.
Cam had his hands on his knees and was breathing heavily. He swallowed once. “We made it? We crossed?”
“We crossed,” said Eli.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“Why is the magic so … sad?” asked Tav, frowning. They were right — the quiet pulsing magic in the air was dejected and frail.