Page 5

The last shards of crimson, cobalt, and burnished orange saturated the clouds outside my bedroom window, and the clock on my desk read five to nine. I’d just signed off a video call with my mom and dad, checking in on how things were going back home. “All good” appeared to be the general consensus, but my parents had gotten better at hiding their work troubles from me over time, and this time, they had avoided the subject completely.

“What do you think? Did they look worried to you?” I asked the pixies, who’d made the video call… interesting, to say the least. Cynane was in the middle of creating a Picasso-esque masterpiece in my sketchbook, dragging my best lipstick—or rather, my mom’s best lipstick, which I’d rammed into a coat pocket and forgotten about—over the pages. Spartacus was slow dancing on the windowsill with my Thread Bear, and Boudicca had put on the show to end all shows, using the desk as her stage to mimic everything my parents had said in her usual brand of contemporary dance.

Boudicca shrugged and walked over to Cynane’s makeshift art studio, scooping up a handful of lipstick from the bullet and streaking it across her cheeks and body like warpaint. She whirled around, contorting her face into a terrifying mask, then began to creep up on an innocent pencil. She leapt on it, dragging her victim to the edge of the desk before dropping it off the edge.

“You think more magicals have gone missing?” I tried to interpret.

She chattered agreement. To expound on her thoughts, she stretched her lips in a manic grin and batted her long eyelashes. I understood immediately.

“They were acting overly casual, right? I thought so, too.”

Boudicca pointed to herself and puffed out her chest, then jabbed a finger at my phone and pulled a sour face, swiping her hands through the air in a big cross.

I laughed. “They’re not as good at acting as you are?”

She grinned and nodded. At this, Spartacus flew over, with Thread Bear dangling from his embrace, and started to perform a dramatic scene of loss and love. Evidently, he wanted in on the acting accolades. When he was a few seconds shy of a Hollywood kiss with my childhood teddy, I grabbed the bear and held him to my chest before he could suffer any further indignities at Spartacus’s overeager hands. Cynane, who’d paused in her drawing, cackled at Spartacus, which led to a high-pitched argument that would’ve come to blows if Boudicca hadn’t launched a teaspoon at Spartacus’s head.

Did I bite off more than I can chew? I’d taken the pixies out of the Repository before, many times, but the idea of having them in my care for an entire day suddenly felt daunting, especially since I’d decided to stop using Inwalla on them. I’d learned that the hypnotic-obedience effect only lasted until the next sunrise. After that, it had to be repeated—or else the spell broke and the pixies went back to listening as and when they wanted. Naturally, things were far easier when they were under the influence of Inwalla, but it felt wrong for me to wrangle them like that. I preferred the trust-and-friendship method to mind control. It wasn’t an exact science, but the four of us were making it work.

“I wonder if news has filtered through to my parents about Charles Burniston yet?” I sank back in my chair, speaking mainly to Boudicca and Cynane, since Spartacus was busy rubbing his skull and pouting.

Cynane snorted and shook her head, emitting a doubtful squeak.

I sighed. “You’d think that after a few global threats, everyone would’ve learned to work together by now.”

Boudicca gestured slyly at Spartacus, as if to say: “You just have to look at us to know that’s not true.”

I folded my arms across my chest and thought about Charles, the missing research scientist from the Institute who’d never returned from Fergus’s realm. If my suspicions were correct, Charles hadn’t been taken there to begin with. It had been six months. I’d thought he’d resurface mysteriously, like the US abductees had, but there’d been zilch. I’d considered asking my parents outright many times, but Victoria’s insular mindset stilled my tongue every time. The Institute had avoided an investigation after the Door fiasco, since Victoria had spread the story that it was a code red simulation to test the Institute’s emergency protocols which, by some miracle, everyone had bought. I supposed the truth was weirder than the fiction. Although, those who’d actually been captured by the Wisps had faced private meetings with Victoria, and they had come out vowing to stay silent on what had really happened, for the good of the Institute. Either way, Charles’s continued absence would definitely ring some authority alarm bells, if he stayed missing. It hadn’t yet, likely thanks to Victoria’s knack for keeping things hushed up, but it was only a matter of time.

“Anyway, it’s probably none of my business. My parents are pros—they’ll have the US stuff handled, I’m sure.” They hadn’t reached their high positions as secret agents for nothing. “And I know Victoria has people searching nonstop for any word on Charles. Maybe he’s already turned up somewhere, but all the international red tape is screwing with shared intel, or agencies in Europe haven’t located him yet. Just because he was taken from here doesn’t mean he’d be returned here, you know what I mean? They could’ve dropped him in Switzerland, for all we know.”

Cynane took the tube of lipstick and stabbed it at her heart, melodramatically collapsing to the desk with her tongue lolling out of her mouth. As the lipstick rolled away, it left a bright red smudge above her heart. I got the picture, loud and clear.

I shuddered. “Yeah, there’s always that possibility.” I looked over my semi-tidy bedroom, my eyes catching on a pair of leggings that dangled like a shed skin from the door of my rustic wardrobe. “It’s not like I could help much, anyway.”

Boudicca and Cynane nodded effusively, which I wasn’t sure whether to take as an insult, while Spartacus admired himself in the back of a teaspoon. He always paused in front of mirrors and windows to pose and preen—had I known that before I’d named him, I probably would’ve gone with Narcissus.

“But I can help myself,” I murmured, thinking out loud. My parents had already forged their legacies, but mine was still in the earliest of stages. If I wanted to make them truly proud on family weekend, then I had to start kicking things up a notch. The physical side made up half of the graduation score, so I couldn’t rely on academics alone. And I wasn’t about to waste these years only to fail at the end. I’d told Genie I would run, and I had to put my money where my mouth was.

“Maybe I’ll go for an evening—” I gulped “—run.” It wasn’t too late, the island was more or less a crime-free zone, and the dusky twilight would mask most of my awkward technique. During the week, students were expected to be in their rooms by eleven o’clock—an unwritten rule of sorts—but the same didn’t stand for weekends. The older students would probably be in the pub by now, literally drinking in some Irish hospitality, and my classmates would be in the rec room. If there was ever a time to start my cardio journey, it was now, when I could be guaranteed peace and quiet.

Cynane erupted into fits of giggles and set off across the desk in a weird, squat run that reminded me of a frantic lizard I’d seen sprinting across a pond in a nature documentary. She gasped loudly for air until she toppled over in a heap, cracking up.

I shot her a stern look. “Hilarious.”

Boudicca flew up to my face and grasped my cheeks in her tiny hands. She gave me a solemn look, clearly trying to show that she had faith in me, but the attempt was ruined by the half-smirk on her lips. I’d hoped I might get some encouragement from one of the pixies, but they all seemed to be thinking the same thing: “You? Running? HA.”

“I suggest you drop the negativity, or I’ll put on so much boppy music that your ears will bleed. I need cheering on, not a reminder of how weird my legs are.” They hated pop music with a passion, screeching every time I cycled through the latest charts and trashing my room until I made it stop. They’d even gone so far as to launch an assault on my speakers a month ago while I was in the shower. Naomi had fixed them up for me, with limited questions as to how they’d gotten so wrecked in the first place, but I’d learned a valuable lesson—pixies despised modern music, but they were suckers for a folk tune. If I needed a break while they were in my care, I put on the Internet’s finest “Celtic Folk Jams” playlist and let them go to town, jigging away to their heart’s content.

Cynane grabbed a pencil and hurled it at my chest like a spear, while Spartacus lobbed his teaspoon at me. Boudicca flicked me on the nose and chattered furiously, making violent retching noises in between bursts of rage.

“Then I don’t want to hear so much as one snort,” I warned. Fitness was the one aspect of my life that I’d never taken seriously, despite knowing its benefits. But if toughening up and finally bolstering my endurance brought me closer to flooring Marcel, then I had to start. I mean, who knew, maybe a bit of cardio would help with my Purges, too. Being in better shape might help me recover more quickly, no matter the size or power level of my creations.

Boudicca clamped her lips shut and drew her fingertips across like a zipper. Glancing back at Cynane and Spartacus, she reopened the zipper before hitting them with a tirade of shrieks and barks, which I guessed meant she was relaying the instruction. I had to laugh—my life had certainly been more colorful since these little beasties had come along.

Exhaling deeply, I took my sneakers and exercise gear into the bathroom to change. I’d learned another valuable lesson early on, which was that it was never a good idea to change in front of the pixies. On one occasion, Cynane had done a mime piece involving two satsuma mandarins that would be forever seared into my brain.

Heading back out, I pulled up the hood of my sweater, already trying to think up an excuse to avoid the evening jog. No… no excuses. I have to do this. If Genie’s running tales were to be believed, it would be life-altering.

“I won’t be gone long, so don’t wreck anything,” I said to the pixies, resigned. “I’d take you with me, but you’ll be safer here.” They still wore their yellow tagging rings and, while I’d become an expert at removing them for previous excursions, it didn’t seem like a smart idea to take the pixies out in the dark. They glowed, for one thing, which might draw unwanted attention.

Before I even reached the door, the pixies had rocketed through the air and divebombed me, forcing me to duck and cover my head with my arms. Clearly, they didn’t approve of the idea of being left in my stuffy room while I enjoyed the fresh air. Cynane had wrapped herself around the door handle, gnashing her sharp teeth, so I knew I’d get a nasty bite if I even tried to grab it; Boudicca pressed herself flat to the jamb and puffed up her lungs, letting me know she was ready to scream the place down if I resisted; Spartacus hovered in front of my face with a paintbrush poised at my forehead, bright green paint dripping down to the hardwood floor.

“It’s not personal!” I protested. “If I take you guys out there, it’ll be like carrying three rainbow lanterns. And you’ve got those rings on, which I’ll have to take off first. I’m trying to keep us all low profile.”

Spartacus brought the paintbrush closer, and Boudicca looked as if she was about to burst from inhaling so much. Reluctantly, she released her breath and fluttered down to my head, bending over so I had to look at her upside down. She gave me a sharp rap on the noggin with her clenched fist before unleashing a twittering torrent of pixie-speak that definitely wasn’t polite. I’d developed an ear for their language in the last six months, and they were major fans of the expletive.

Boudicca dropped down to hover in front of my face and pointed to her cuttlefish spots, which were an irritated shade of vermilion.

“I understand what you’re saying, but those lights come on as soon as the sun goes down. You won’t be able to not glow,” I argued. If anyone saw us, I imagined their first instinct would be to worry that the Wisps had somehow returned. We’d be swarmed by hunters before I’d even warmed up. And then Victoria would know we’d broken the rules, and I’d never be able to take the pixies out again.

Boudicca rolled her eyes and dove, without permission, into the neckline of my sweater and began to rummage around, in what I assumed to be an attempt to harass me into concession. I yelped and patted wildly at the fabric. But she was faster, dodging my strikes. Thoroughly tickled, I grabbed the hem and tried unsuccessfully to shake her out.

“Come out of there, or none of us are getting out of here this evening,” I commanded. Inwalla teetered on the tip of my tongue; I didn’t want to use it, but I didn’t want a pixie hiding out in my clothing, either.

She scrambled down my sleeve, making me wriggle. I hated being tickled almost as much as I hated running. A moment later, her head poked out of the cuff, wearing a mischievous grin. She chirped, as if to say: “Does this mean we’re allowed to go with you?”

I shook her out of my sleeve wordlessly, prompting her to fly straight back up and poise for another dive. I raised my hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, you can come!” Boudicca backed off, smug as anything. “But, like I said, I’ll have to take the rings off first, and you have to swear that you’ll keep your lights as dim as possible and keep close to me. If you get me into even the tiniest smidgen of trouble, we’re all screwed.”

I didn’t see why they had to wear the nasty things.Nathan had tested how they actually kept tabs on the pixies by running a tracking hex check on them, which had come back clean of any actual tracking technology. Delving deeper into how they were meant to work, he’d clamped one to his pinkie finger and run diagnostics with a device he’d “borrowed” from Naomi. According to him, it hadn’t seemed to do anything at all before he breached the perimeters of the interdimensional bubble. That was when the beacon had started to go off, though he’d only triggered it for a split second. So, unless I wanted to do circuits in the orchard, those rings would need to come off.

The three pixies banded together and linked arms in the air. Their cuttlefish spots shifted to a warm shade of pink, showing their approval and their promise to behave.

“Then sit on the desk, so I can get rid of the rings.”

They perched on the edge of the desk like a novelty ornament, their legs dangling. I took a seat and pulled open the top drawer of the desk, removing a small tin box. To the unsuspecting eye, it looked like it might contain art supplies or sewing needles, but it really contained my lockpicking kit—one of my uncle’s, actually, and it had proven to be the perfect tool for unlocking the ring mechanisms.

“Sit still!” I whispered, as Spartacus swung his legs to and fro like a little kid. He made a rude “ooh” sound, but still did as I’d asked. Taking out a razor-thin file and a pair of tweezers, I jammed the former into the hinge of the ring and pushed up until the minuscule pin in the center of the ring’s lock loosened. Grabbing the top with the tweezers, I lifted it cleanly out and dropped it in the box. The metallic clink made me smile. Yes, this was definitely against the rules, but it felt right to free them from their manacles, if only temporarily. In fact, I wished it could’ve been permanent, but Victoria would definitely notice that. After doing the same for Boudicca and Cynane, I stowed the rings away in the box with the tools and put them back in the drawer.

“Hide in here until we’re outside,” I instructed, stretching out the pouch of my hoodie. The pixies saluted, chattering excitedly to one another, and slipped inside. “And no noise until it’s safe!”

Boudicca chirruped in reply. I knew her tone, subtly different from Cynane’s or Spartacus’s. The trio fell silent, curled up in my hoodie pouch like the world’s peskiest joeys. I checked the clock to find that twenty minutes had gone by, and I made a silent promise to stay out for at least an hour. Even if I only managed to jog for half of that time.

With that, I headed out. The Institute hallways lay eerily empty, peppered with the slightest hint of bass from somewhere else in the residential annex. I heard girlish laughter erupt behind one door as I passed and thought of Genie. We hadn’t exactly come up with a plan to get her alone with Nathan, but an opportunity had presented itself, and I was freaking glad that Genie hadn’t chickened out at the last moment and hurried after me. She was the most fearless person I knew, but when it came to Nathan… Well, I guessed that took a different kind of courage.I’d hear all about it later, no doubt.

Pressing on through the Institute, I let myself out into the gardens and kept walking up the central path to the far gate. Overhead, the vibrant sunset leaked into the inky blue-black of night, soon to be swallowed up entirely. On my left, a chilly wind rustled the leaves of the pear trees, and I heard the hushed whispers of people hiding behind the sandstone sanctuary of the walled gardens. Friday night was date night for everyone but me, it seemed.

Sliding back the bolt on the gate, I paused for a few seconds, filled with the same bizarre guilt that I felt when I left a store and knew I hadn’t stolen anything, but still wondered if a whole rack of clothes had somehow jumped into my bag. Except in this case, I actually did have contraband on me.

Satisfied that no hunters were going to come and lock me up, I left the Institute’s perimeter and broke into an ungainly jog across the open fields. My knees jarred and my feet couldn’t find a rhythm, but I pushed on, putting more distance between myself and the Institute. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to move faster, knowing I probably looked like the bottom-ranking horse in a serious case of dressage gone wrong. After a hundred yards or so, I tapped on my hoodie pouch.

“You can come out now, but remember—dim those lights and stick to me like glue. If you sense anyone, then puff out of sight.”

The pixies shot out of my hoodie, nudging and smacking each other. It had been a bumpy ride, made worse by their cramped conditions. But they soon got over it, relishing the freedom of flying in the open air. They turned loop-the-loops like fairy dancers, plummeting to the ground before pulling up at the last second and spiraling high in a mesmerizing twist of wings and light. They had an elegance that my running skills desperately lacked, though I hoped I got points for trying.

Engaging my inner crab, I stumbled along the uneven ground, using the moon as my spotlight to avoid rabbit holes and stones. With no pre-planned route, I decided to head for the small church where I’d dug up Fergus’s bones. After all, this was essentially a replay of the night I’d realized I had zero stamina whatsoever. Once I reached the church, I knew I’d find a flat path to follow.

“This … really… freaking… sucks!” I gasped five minutes later, my lungs on fire.

Boudicca fluttered alongside me, pumping her arms and cycling her legs like she was running in mid-air. She flashed me a cheeky grin and gave a whoop of encouragement. The difference was, she didn’t have to wade through lumpy grass and every other potential pitfall cloaked in the semi-darkness. Still, I appreciated the sentiment. Cynane and Spartacus joined Boudicca in pretending to run, and I found myself feeling even more determined to push on. All I needed was the Chariots of Fire theme song, the one my uncle used to play through a loudspeaker whenever the SDC had a sporting event.

Eventually, I hit a shaky sort of momentum. I nearly rolled my ankle on a rock and the ricochets from every footfall splintered up my shins, but every time I slowed down, I got a whack on the back of the head from Boudicca, a jab in the ribs from Cynane, or a tiny slap in the face from Spartacus. They turned out to be far more effective than any trainer, mostly because they had absolutely no compunction about using violence to get results. They kept me moving until I couldn’t even see the Institute anymore.

I’d taken a different path than the one I’d taken on gravedigging night, venturing toward the cliff trail instead of heading inland. Below me, the waves crashed against the rocks and I heard seagulls calling in the moonlit sky. I made sure to stay far enough away from the edge to avoid tumbling to my death if I tripped on my own clown feet. The lactic acid building in me felt like fire ants crawling through my muscles, but my mind felt clearer than it had in a long while. I didn’t have to think about anything other than the thud thud thud of my sneakers on the dirt path. And for a while there, I was at risk of thinking Genie had a point about the perks of running.

I ran a little further to a lookout spot, which featured a solitary bench dedicated to an “Irene Cadman,” and stopped for a breather. I braced for the expected onslaught from my tiny trainers, but it didn’t come. I was about to turn to figure out what was keeping them when I heard a low, menacing growl drift from a thicket of gorse bushes that bordered the lookout spot.

Has someone lost their dog?I thought, trying to stave off the encroaching nerves. Rabid dogs weren’t really a thing on this rustic Galway island, and I doubted wolves had paddled their way across from the mainland, but there were probably one or two lovable strays roaming around. If only that growl had sounded more canine-like, I might’ve been able to convince myself I had nothing to worry about. But it was deeper, gruffer, and a little more… monster-like than that.

The pixies swept forward, linking arms in front of me. Boudicca glanced back, screeching at the top of her lungs, her eyes wide and terrified. I didn’t need to understand the language; all I had to do was look at the vivid crimson spots that pulsed across her body. She wanted me to run. Far away, and now.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” I urged.

She opened her mouth to answer. Instead of pixie words, a strained gargle bubbled out, as though someone held her throat in a vise. Without warning, her eyes rolled back, and her glowing lights dimmed to a barely discernible throb. She fell from the air, Cynane and Spartacus following suit. I lurched forward to catch them before they hit the ground. Against the pale shade of my hands, it looked as though all of the color—and life—had drained out of them.

I jostled them gently, praying they would wake. “What did you see? What made that noise?”

Setting the limp pixies on the bench, I took a breath and stepped toward the shadows of the gorse bushes. “Hello? Is someone there?” A few steps shy, I staggered back in horror as two red, flaming eyes ignited in the darkness. Growing larger by the second. Coming right for me. I was aware of a sudden heat rushing over my skin, like a desert wind. But I didn’t even have time to scream before all the lights went out.