“I don’t know what slate looks like,” he said slowly. “I’m not a geologist.”
“We’ll have to find you one,” said Eli, keeping her voice even.
“I feel something!” Tav suddenly grabbed her arm. “We’re closer to the source of the magic, aren’t we?”
Eli could feel it, too. The gold light was brighter now, the thread of magic strong and clear. They were getting closer.
“I see it, too,” said Cam.
The light felt familiar to Eli. Tav was laughing, the kind of laughter that bubbles out of your body like a shaken bottle of champagne. The fear fell from their bodies as they moved toward the light, breath quickening, palms sweaty. The light became blinding, and Eli slowed her pace and shielded her eyes, squinting through the glare.
“Is it another door?” Cam asked.
The light slowly dimmed, and a strong scent washed over their bodies, filling their mouths and ears and making their eyes water and burn —
Salt.
Sea salt.
Pressed into the wall, like a fossil embedded in stone, was Kite.
Thirty
That morning, the one Eli could never forget, the easterly squalls had carried the scent of sage and mint into her room. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with oxygen and hope.
Today she would be free of her mother.
The witches.
The world.
Eli had not slept that night, twitching in her skin. She felt electric, as if all of her nerves were firing at once. She had polished her blades until they gleamed and watched the glow of the moon through her single window.
Eli didn’t leave a note for Circinae. It wasn’t unusual for her to slip out to meet Kite or frolic with the bloodthirsty children in the Labyrinth. Somehow, Circinae could always find her. The Coven could always find her. Something about her making, something about her body, about ownership and motherhood and power.
Kite had told Eli those chains could be broken. And by the time Circinae discovered their treachery, it would be too late. They would be free.
Eli slipped out the window and followed the path she knew so well, the steps and feelings and prayers that brought her to Kite. She walked away from the only home she had ever known.
She didn’t look back.
115 north, 48 northwest, counter-clockwise, a piece of hair as a sacrificial offering. The glittering icy river appeared. The trees. The island. Kite hadn’t arrived yet — Eli was early. She lay down on the rocky edge of their island and let her hand trail in the water. Closed her eyes and remembered Kite’s face when she told Eli they were leaving for good. You can be free, I know it.
Eli wondered which of the heartstrings she had to cut to be free. Which tendon or bone tethered her to Circinae. She would cut them all out of her and be reborn.
The sky turned rust red and then peeled into grey and white. Eli’s fingers pruned in the water and a chill set in. Still, she waited.
It felt like days passed, but she had no way of knowing. Before, Kite had always been waiting for her. Kite was here. Kite could find her. They found each other. A prick of worry stabbed at her fingertips and she wondered if the Witch Lord had taken her. No, surely if that were the case, Circinae would be dragging Eli home for punishment. Eli tried to force her mind to the future and the past — anything but the present.
But the thoughts lingered. The threat of the witches who ruled the world without empathy polluted the sacred space she had carved out of the land with Kite. The river was empty. All the creatures that came to die for Kite, longing to be devoured by her, were gone. The sky seemed thin and strained, like a gauze bandage over a bloody wound.
A whisper in the woods. Eli stood, hands near her blades, and turned around.
A mirage, a glimmer, almost a ghost, but it glowed blue and bubbled a little, sending wet speckles over the earth.
“What are you waiting for?” it whispered and then giggled. “I thought you were running away?”
Eli’s nails bit into her palm. “Tell me what you’ve done with Kite.” The tracker, the bone blade, could give her answers. Her fingers slipped over the handle.
The figure cocked its head curiously. “I am her. Part of her, anyway. The strange part with an affection for a wooden daughter. Did you really think the future Witch Lord could leave this world with you? That she could save you?” Another giggle, or maybe a hiccough, and then it popped.
In its place was a single shell, a great spiralled horn.
Eli walked over, heart hammering in her chest, and picked it up with both hands. She tipped it on its side, and a black substance poured out, flowing like blood. Eli tipped her head back and drank. It tasted bitter and felt thick on her tongue. It stuck to her teeth and made her smile dark and feral.
When she had finished drinking, she understood that Kite wasn’t coming. That she couldn’t come. That she couldn’t free Eli.
Kite was the Heir to the Witch Lord and could never leave this world.
Eli made a decision.
It was time to stop playing with children. It was time to stop being a child.
Eli would harden her heart. She would become the weapon she had been made to be. She would take her place between worlds.
Finally, after all these years and promises and plans, she understood.
It was time to grow up.
The body in the wall wasn’t Kite as Eli remembered her, all hair and arms and music, flowing and pulsing with life. She had been replaced by a sketch, or a mannequin, a thin outline of what Kite had once been. Distressed skirts and dirty hair. Stillness where there should have been slow, mesmerizing movement. Even her face was frozen in a blank doll-like expression.
“Kite.” Eli’s breath caught in her throat. She stepped up to her beautiful friend and, fingers trembling, reached out and brushed a strand of silverblue hair from her forehead.
Kite gasped like a drowning sailor.
“Kite!” Eli grabbed her face and pressed her forehead against hers. “Kite, wake up. You’re okay, you have to be okay!”
Cam slowly moved forward and pressed a hand against the wall. All the stones covering his body began to tremble, and the wall, too, started to shake. “Please release her,” he asked politely but firmly. Kite fell onto Eli like a dead fish, damp and limp. Eli managed to hold her head and neck as the two of them collapsed onto the ground.
Kite’s eyes fluttered open.
“Eli?”
“I’m here,” said Eli, stroking Kite’s hair. “I’m here. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
“Water,” croaked Kite. “It’s too dry.”
Tav fumbled in the bag, rummaging through their supplies.
“She doesn’t want that,” said Eli.
Carefully, Eli took out the thorn blade. She pricked her wrist until a tiny well of blood formed on the surface. The blade started to grow buds. “Shhh,” Eli told it. “Not now.”
She smeared the blood across her finger and lovingly fed it to Kite. Kite’s pink tongue lapped it up like a kitten.
“More?” asked Eli.
“No.” Kite pulled herself up until she was half sitting. Her eyes dimmed. “What are you doing here? You’re going to get yourself killed!”
“We just saved you,” said Eli.
“You might as well have killed me,” said Kite. “I was hiding here for a reason.”