Lili Crow - Wayfarer

No wonder Mother Hel hadn’t been afraid of the Strep.

“The clan will pay for her schooling,” Livvie Fletcher repeated, quietly. “She’s missed a great deal, but is willing to attend make-up classes.”

Ellie sank down further in the chair, her hands laced over her midriff. It felt weird to be sitting in here without a Juno blazer on, but the leather seat was reassuringly sticky against the backs of her knees. At least she had a skirt, Livvie had seen to that. Wearing a pair of jeans to St. Juno’s was just not done.

“Her stepmother . . .” Mother Heloise’s gaze bored into Ellie’s.

“Is responsible for that absence. She was forcing Ellen to charm and selling the resulting—”

“Yes, yes. Hm. Well. This is a very irregular situation.” Mother Heloise folded her hands under where her breasts should be, and the light overhead in its cage of suppressive charms ticked slightly as its heat expanded.

Idly, Ellie wondered if she should shatter the light bulb. It wouldn’t be any great trick. It might even add something to the festivities. Just a little pressure here, a little pressure there, slipping through the suppressors, and pow. Big fun.

Livvie continued, doggedly. “We’re willing to—”

“Little Ellen.” Mother Heloise still stared at her, as if she could see Mithrus Himself printed on Ellie’s face.

Maybe she could just see guilt. Plenty of that to rumble around inside Ellie Sinder, that was for sure.

“I’m sorry.” How many times had Ellie said that lately? If she was going to be a charity case, well, that was just the way things were. It will get better , Livvie told her, over and over. I promise it will get better.

Well, maybe Avery’s mom could be trusted. Avery himself had been raked up one side and down the other for driving Ellie out to Perrault Street, but he’d taken it all with a rueful grin, and they hadn’t hit him, either with charm or with fist. Mr. Fletcher had sounded like her own father, stern but fair, and Livvie, well, she was Livvie.

Right now she leaned forward a little, pale but composed, almost vibrating with tension in the chair where Laurissa had once sat. Ellie had that morning tentatively broached the idea of working to pay for her room and board, since the trust was tied up until she was eighteen. There was enough of it left to get her through college, though the Strep had burned a lot on poppy and God only knew what else.

Avery’s mother had looked horrified, and now here they were, sitting in Mother Hel’s office while Juno drowsed under a late-summer sky, its halls empty except for the sisters going about whatever they did when the girls had mid-July through mid-September off. It was too late in the day for even the summer school classes to be in session.

“Hmmm.” Mother Heloise nodded, her chin dipping. “Ruby de Varre and Camille Vultusino. Your friends.”

It was ridiculous, that she should feel caught out. Why would Mother Heloise know about that? “Yes ma’am. They’re my friends.”

Not an angry word from either of them. Cami simply hugged her and teared up a little, then brought out presents. Little things like hair ribbons—the thin headbands were out and ribbons were in now—and fresh luckcharm dangles, these ones not silvery as last year’s had been but bugle-shaped, like bells or beads, and their tinkling had made a cold finger trace down Ellie’s spine. Ruby brought a fresh paperback copy of Sigmundson’s Charms to replace Ellie’s lost one, and a couple gossip magazines, their covers garish-colored.

One of them had a grainy painting of a half-minotaur Twist criminal caged behind true-iron in an inquest dock, a swollen misshapen thing sentenced to a kolkhoz for the rest of its life. Laurissa’s pregnancy hadn’t been real, just the first symptom of a black charmer’s Twisting.

Now when Ellie heard a train coming in from the Waste she would think of the Strep, bone-shrouded head too heavy for her neck because the minotaur process had been halted midway by charmer cops throwing draincharms. She would think of the thing’s bleak furious gaze scraping the sides of a dark, sealed car, speeding through the poison-black forest. Maybe she’d Twist back fully into a minotaur out there and run through the sinkstone and wire out into the Waste, where she could savage and howl all she wanted.

Yes, Ellie would think about it. And each time, she would feel scalding, shameful relief.

I didn’t kill her . Instead, she had saved Rita. Who had disappeared from the hospital. Just like a cloud vanishing.

The police weren’t happy about that, but there was enough evidence to take the Strep away—as if more evidence than her Twisting half-minotaur was needed. Poppy, black charming—Ellie’s halting answers to their questions were accepted without question, even though she’d been terrified the Strep would appear at any moment and accuse her of lying.

Maybe she could have stopped all this earlier if she hadn’t been so afraid?

The Mithrus Mother Superior made a small hmmm noise. “Miss Vultusino missed school during the winter and is attending classes through summer holiday. So is Miss de Varre, who I gather was not skipping to go shopping, as is her wont, but to search for her missing friend.” Mother Heloise nodded. “Very irregular situation, indeed.”

“I’m sor—” Ellie began again.

“Miss Sinder, this unfortunate series of incidents is not your fault. Mithrus, in His wisdom, knows that. I, though my wisdom is much less, do as well. And . . . Fletcher? Mrs. Fletcher, is it?”

“Yes ma’am.” Livvie looked almost as uncomfortable as Ellie felt.

“Olivia. Née Starling, I seem to recall.” Mother Hel’s gaze grew a little sharper. “Top of your class, indeed. A mischievous little thing. Used to quite torment Sister All-Abiding Mercy.”

“I grew up, ma’am.” Slight hint of asperity, but Livvie’s cheeks were pink.

A bright, watchful spark had kindled in Mother Heloise’s tiny eyes. “You agree that little Ellen bears no fault for this . . . situation, do you not?”

“Completely, Mother Heloise.” And Livvie Fletcher did a strange thing.

She reached over and took Ellie’s hand, scooping it up from Ellie’s plaid-clad lap. She even squeezed, very gently, while staring Mother Heloise down.

Ellie’s jaw threatened to drop.

“Very well. Sister Amalia will give you her schedule, she starts classes on Wednesday. I believe Miss de Varre is her transport on file; otherwise, you will make arrangements?”

“Certainly. She needs a new—”

“Uniform, yes, Sister Amalia has a package for her.”

“I’ll pay for—” Ellie began, because the trust had provisions for her schooling, and she’d offered to pay the Fletchers even though they wouldn’t hear any of it. Was it just more charity?

Somehow, she didn’t mind so much. Not at the moment.

“You will not ,” Livvie interrupted, firmly.

Mother Heloise went on, smooth as a ship sailing into harbor. “Miss Vultusino, I believe, signed the receipt. I am sure a thank-you note is in order. Manners are just one of the things a Juno girl must acquire.”

Cami. Thinking ahead. And Mother Hel knew I’d be back. The weight in Ellie’s chest lifted, and Livvie squeezed her hand again, gently, comfortingly.

“Your grades, Miss Sinder. Keep them up. Be a credit to us.” Mother Heloise nodded. “Yes, indeed. Mithrus bless and keep us all, in this world of struggle and striving.”

“Amen,” Livvie murmured, and Ellie too. The ritual response was comforting, as if they were sitting together in Morning Chapel, bored and warm and finally, blessedly . . . safe.