Lili Crow - Wayfarer

It was like one of those Unspeakable Riddles black charmers were always using to trip up heroes in feytales.

Thinking about black charmers dragged her back to thinking about Laurissa, and that wasn’t going to help her get any rest.

The final chord rattled around the rafters, and everyone waited for Mother Heloise’s placid “Be seated, children,” before dropping down on the aged, varnished wooden pews. Each girl swept her skirt under in her own way; the uniforms only made you look harder for the variances. Even in the middle of the most stultifying conformity there were tiny little individual outcroppings, crocuses sticking up their tiny green heads.

Ruby popped the wad of choco-beechgum back into her mouth and proceeded to chew furiously, her right foot tapping to her own private beat. Cami folded her hands in her lap, straight-backed, and stared wide-eyed at a point over Mother Heloise’s head. Ellie settled herself against Cami’s side and tried not to think.

It was no use. She couldn’t get away from it.

The first pair of shoes—their heels higher and arched, the copper turned to burning russet gold, their toes wickedly pointed and scrolled with a chimecharm to make the wearer’s footsteps tinkle like crystal raindrops—had sold immediately. Of course, Ellie never saw the money. But the Strep was calm for days afterward. It must have been a considerable amount, and each pair afterward—plus the backlog of commissions from the Strep’s charm not working right—had similarly been snapped up, calming Laurissa’s temper even more.

She’d stopped having Ellie go through the ledgers, too. Now the Strep did the bookkeeping, and it was a funny thing—the ledgers were locked behind a glass door in Dad’s office, where Laurissa had never ventured before. There were the familiar blue ones Ellie had been working in . . . and another set in rich red leather.

Interesting, right? Or it would have been, if she’d had time to think about it.

Rita was demoted to the pink bedroom, and Ellie’s blue nest was all her own again. The door locked, sure, but the lock was an ancient crusty thing, and the right charm could tickle it open in a heartbeat.

It wasn’t safe.

So Ellie snuck out each night and slept in her little garret. Which was great . . . except when she’d climbed down this morning, she’d heard a noise. A soft sliding step.

Rita? Probably. The girl wouldn’t even talk to her. Antonia was gone for good—the Strep had summarily fired her, claiming the vacation time had really been the cook just not showing up to work. Miz Toni disputed that, but not too loudly—she just took the pittance of severance pay and left with her ample mouth set in a thin worried line.

Because after all, if a Sigiled charmer took it into her head to blacklist a former employee, where in the city would said employee ever find a decent job again? Maybe Miz Toni just didn’t want to move to another province. Ellie couldn’t blame her.

Afterward, the Strep had smiled at Ellie, that peculiar little smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She was not a good influence, Ellen. Mustn’t get too friendly with the help, I’ve told you that before.

So it was Ellie’s fault, after all. A heavy sigh, flavored with pine-resin incense, escaped before she could stop herself, and Cami glanced over, a flash of blue eyes in the dimness.

Above, the stone was frozen into ribbed arches, carved with grapes and bull heads with wide curving horns in honor of the Sacrificed One, thorny tau crosses and the sad eyes of the Magdalen worked over and over with long tapering lashes. The Magdalen had seen a lot, that was for damn sure, and sometimes Ellie thought that maybe things would be better if the bitch had closed her eyes for once.

Like you, maybe? The Strep’s been awful nice lately, wouldn’t you say?

She told that voice to go away. She needed all the sleep she could get, and this was a golden opportunity.

She wouldn’t even think about the scrap of paper folded into her shapeless black felt hat, with Avery’s writing on it.

A phone number, and his blocky letters. Call me. Please.

Not a chance. Where would she find the time, now? Homework and charming after school, hours and hours draining away on Laurissa’s projects.

Plus, the further away Avery was from Laurissa, the better. She was bound to be wondering why the charm she’d attached to his gift didn’t bring him back to the house. How many of her other boyfriends had she snared that way? Was it any good to wonder? Avery wouldn’t have been the first one just over legal age, and he probably wouldn’t be the last one either. She went through them pretty quick, and by the end of it they were usually hollow-eyed and . . .

Nausea flooded her, and she shut the thought away. It was useless. She should just try to get some rest.

Juno’s huge Book was open on a stand like a charmer’s plinth, and Ellie had never noticed that before. Was there charming in churches? Did anyone care? Mother Heloise touched the pages reverently, intoning something about a wedding and a bridegroom, stupid virgins and smart ones.

Mithrus was looking in the wrong place if he expected to find a ton of virgins here . There was Binksy Malone in the pew right in front of her, a certified socialite slut if Ellie’d ever seen one, and right up front was the chief ghoulgirl, Manda Hogan, her dyed-black braids swallowing the glow from massed ranks of candles. She was notorious for never turning down a dare, even from the guys at Berch Prep.

And Ruby, well, Rube was Wild, in red capitals and underlined. No two ways about it.

Well, if Mom and Dad were still alive, you’d be wild too, Ell. Wouldn’t you? You can only run like that if you’re sure there’s someone who can catch you if you trip.

Maybe, maybe not, and that was a bad mental road to go down too. Because the grief was a stone in her chest, and the only time that stone rolled away was when she was charming for Laurissa.

The charms came with frightening ease, and the blank space that flowered inside her head while she was working them was frankly terrifying. Each pair of shoes—she was doing two or three a day, and they sold as quickly as she could make them, which made Laurissa happy—had odd markings, way more restrained than Laurissa’s florid curlicues.

Almost . . . well, almost as if they’d been performed by a Sigiled charmer.

Ellie’s Potential wasn’t settled yet. If it had , she’d be switched into a different Basic Charm class, and that would take her away from Rube and Cami. High Charm Calc would have started making sense in different ways, and that wasn’t happening.

It is, though. Those equations all but solve themselves. You’re cheating to get the wrong answers, for once.

She told that little thought to take a hike, too. If she got wrong answers, fine. Getting put in Advanced Charm would mean she would have to charm more to keep up with in-class labs, and the idea just filled her with unsteady dread.

“This story,” Mother Heloise half-chanted, “tells us some very important things, my children.”

Nothing that can help me, thanks. Another sigh heaved itself out of her. Soon the homily would be over, and they would all stand for the closing hymn, and then it was out the door and back into class.

She tried to let her mind drift. Cami’s stillness didn’t alter. How she could sit and pay attention through all this was just incredible. She even thought about the things Mother Heloise said, and sometimes could be persuaded to comment on them. Living with Family, maybe that sort of thing was dinner-table talk. You could probably think about a lot of religion if you lived a long time, and even the ones that didn’t transition into Unbreathing had incredible life spans. Probably fueled by the red stuff they drank. Cami called it borrowing.