Lili Crow - Wayfarer

Exactly. Ellie ran her fingers back through her hair, the slippery blonde strands clinging. The scab at the back of her scalp twinged a little—she was careful not to break its crust. Hitting the door that hard had been a bad piece of luck, and the Strep had kicked her in the stomach as well. “Yeah.” Trust Cami to put her finger on exactly what Ellie was most worried about.

Camille doesn’t talk much, Ruby said every once in a while, but when she does, even Gran listens.

Ruby’s strong white teeth flashed. It wasn’t quite a smile, just a silent-roar of a grimace. “I could sic the bridge club on that psycho bitch. Gran already doesn’t like her.”

Cami sighed softly. Her knees, bare and smooth now without the scars she used to have, glowed pearly pale; she shifted slightly and tucked her skirt in more securely. “There’s plenty of room at our house,” she said, quietly. “Nico will help.”

The kind of help I’d get from Nico Vultusino is not the kind of help I need . But if anyone could get him to take an interest in Ellie’s problems, it was Cami. And if there was one thing even a Sigiled charmer like the Strep might fear, it was the Family.

Cami just didn’t understand that Ellie had her sights set on permanent escape, not a temporary fix. A permanent fix would mean that she wasn’t anyone’s charity case anymore. Not to mention meaning she could sleep without nightmares and have whole days without bruises and the perpetual feeling of the world slipping away under her feet.

“It’s my dad’s house.” Ellie swung her bag, the knotted strap slippery in her sweating palm. “I should just leave her there? And if I don’t live there, will the trust pay for school?”

“The Family—” Cami began, and the open earnestness on her face was almost enough to make Ellie forget what a bunch of cold ruthless bastards said Family was. There would be help there, sure—but every bit of help you got from Nico Vultusino was likely to be accounted for, with high interest, sooner or later. Cami wasn’t like that, but then, she’d been adopted in.

Ruby had heard enough. “Just let me at her,” she fumed. “Two minutes in a locked room, Ell. Two minutes . You can give me an alibi.”

“Yeah. Right.” You’re tough, Rube. But she’s something else. The thought of her friend facing down the Strep was enough to send a chill down Ellie’s spine, even if Ruby had been the terror of Havenvale Middle School when Ellie had arrived. Anyone who messed with Cami got the short end of Ruby’s considerable temper—and Cami had from the start somehow made that protection extend to Ellie as well. “The court case would be sensational. Woodsdowne Girl Eats Charmer, Gets Bellyache, Film at Eleven .”

Cami’s winged eyebrows had drawn together. “Tuition isn’t a p-problem,” she said, softly. “We can p-protect you, Ellie. You kn-know that.”

You can’t protect me from her. Nothing can. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life owing favors to Family, either. Ellie shrugged. “It’s not that bad.” Her stomach cramped slightly, and she knew she was lying. “It’s just a few years until I’m of age, maybe I’ll even Sigil or apprentice with someone before then.” Then I’ll be hell and gone. Maybe I could even do an exchange—getting out of the city would get me away from Laurissa. That would be nice.

Even charity cases had dreams.

“Years with the Strep?” Ruby’s snort could have won a sarcasm prize. “You should collect hazard pay.”

“She knows how to play the legal game.” Ellie didn’t have to work to sound bitter. “She could sue the Family, even. Make things difficult for them. Even your Gran, Rube. She does all her double-dealing with syrup on top, and stupid grown-ups are fooled. There’s nothing I can do.” Except put the Plan into action. Which I could.

“Good luck suing the Vultusinos.” Ruby snorted again. “And seriously, Gran would eat her for lunch .”

“And get ptomaine poisoning. We’d better get going.” Ellie glanced over her shoulder. “It’s clearing up. If I’m late . . .” She didn’t have to finish.

Cami still looked troubled, but she said nothing as she slid off the Semprena’s hood. She just looked at Ellie, that line still between her eyebrows, and it wasn’t fair. She was beautiful, and so was Ruby.

Ellie was just . . . a mouse. A creeping little mouse. She hitched her bag onto her shoulder and twisted the silver-and-sapphire ring—the only thing left from Mom, the Strep had seen to that—around her finger. The charming in the stone sparked a little, and its voice was a seashell murmur at the very bottom of her consciousness.

Be brave. Be strong.

The problem wasn’t being brave, Ellie thought as Ruby kept muttering just two minutes, alone in a locked room . Cami folded herself up in what passed for the Semprena’s backseat, Ellie took her place in the passenger seat just like always, and when Rube twisted the key and the engine roused with a purr, deep hollow rock blared from the speakers, shaking anything anyone else had wanted to say into jelly. It was the South Bay Sigils singing about somebody’s baby getting a Twist, and Ellie shuddered.

No, brave was easy. You just put your head down and did it.

The problem, she realized as she slammed the door and grabbed for the seat belt—Ruby had already dropped the car into gear, and it was time to brace for the ride home—was surviving.

That’s what’s going to be hard.

THE DINING ROOM WAS DARKER NOW, BECAUSE THE Strep didn’t like the tinkling crystals of the chandeliers here or in the foyer. They gave her a headache, she said, and complained that the high-ceilinged rooms were drafty and dreary. Still, she always wanted to eat in here when the skeleton staff of household help had the evening off, and it was Ellie’s job to serve.

That particular chore had been instituted after Dad’s death, just like a whole raft of other things. It was like the changes in government during the Reeve and through the Deprescence, when the world struggled to deal with the eruption of Potential and the creatures that had lived only in stories suddenly showed up real and whole. The Age of Iron, when mere-humans thought they were the masters of the planet, had ended while everyone was busy with the Great War.

Usually Ell found a little solace in thinking about history as a pattern, playing itself out in the tiny wheels of human lives echoing with the bigger wheels of cities, countries, eras, centuries. It was a way to tell yourself that sooner or later even the worst things would end.

Then there were days like today. The quiet snick of the servants’ backdoor closing behind Antonia the cook’s slow, majestic bulk was a prison cell locking. Ellie braced herself, slipped through the short hall, stepped softly through the arch into the dining room. The gloss of the long table could have been a mirror, and the Strep’s reflection was distorted as the charmpolish reacted to a sudden drift of Potential. It always moved oddly around Laurissa; maybe it was her Sigil that did it.

Ellie set the plate down carefully, remembering to turn it so the fan of asparagus spears was pointed away from the Strep. That had been worth a stinging slap once, though Laurissa was usually pretty careful not to hit the face hard enough to bruise.

Don’t think about that . “Here, ma’am.” Soft and respectful.

“Oh, don’t cringe.” Laurissa was in one of her irritable moods, but she hadn’t exploded when Ellie came home. Her dark eyes weren’t hot with anger. If anything, she looked distracted, her blood-lacquered nails tapping the glossy tabletop. “ Despite what your precious headmistress thinks, I’m not a monster.”