Lili Crow - Wayfarer

“Drive carefully,” Livvie said, giving Avery a glare. “Do you hear me, Ave?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, darling mother. I’m taking Ell for cheeseburgers.”

“Good.” Livvie kissed Ellie’s cheek, her soft perfume a cloak. “You didn’t know I was a Juno girl?”

“No ma’—I mean, no. I didn’t.” For a moment she felt cold, even in the sunshine, and heard a rustling. She restrained the urge to look over her shoulder—there would be nothing there but Juno’s empty visitor’s lot. Empty except for Avery’s primer-coated hulk and the Fletchers’ heavy SUV imported from overWaste, its windows tinted and its radio sleek and charm-buffered, its ride as smooth as a white limousine’s.

Avery was watching her, carefully. “Ell?”

“I’m all right. Just wondering about Rita. Marguerite.”

“No word yet. We’re looking. New Avalon’s making inquiries too.” Livvie tried a smile, but the worry underneath it made it crumble. “Who knows, she might be going to Juno too, if we can find her.”

Livvie’s dark eyes were troubled, and Ellie knew why. A teenage girl could go missing in New Haven and never be found.

For all sorts of reasons.

Ellie had nothing of Rita’s to practice a locator-charm on, and Livvie would probably give her a scolding if she tried. There were a few weeks left before the charmstitcher would clear Ellie for even regular classwork again.

Why on earth would she leave? Livvie had asked, and Ellie had shrugged. It was no use explaining how even help could be a trap to someone whose own mother didn’t want her. She’s not responsible for Laurissa , Livvie had said . . .

. . . but Ellie knew, deep down, that it didn’t matter. Rita would feel responsible. Just like Ellie did. Sisters in unwilling guilt, both of them, and Ellie couldn’t even begin explaining.

There weren’t words for it.

The big stone house on Perrault was being reclaimed and sold, the proceeds going into the trust for Ellie’s eighteenth. Still, it would sit on the market for a while, because nobody wanted to buy a place that had held a black charmer Twist until they were sure the echoes had died down.

Livvie grinned, and you could see the Juno girl she used to be, probably popping vanilla beechgum and full of fire, just like Ruby. “All right. Have a good time, you two, and be home before dark. Dinner is at seven.”

“Mrs. . . . I mean, Livvie?” Ellie reached out, tentatively. She touched the woman’s arm, fleetingly, just above the elbow. “Thanks. I mean . . . thank you.”

“You are very welcome, Ellie. You’re safe now.”

And the clan adoption paperwork on the kitchen counter. She could see it, black and white legalese, waiting for her signature so that the charm-clan could fold around her like a warm blanket. She’d looked at it for a long endless moment this morning, her heart in her throat.

You don’t have to sign it , Livvie had said, softly. Any clan would be glad to have you. You’ll finish school, we’ll see to it, and you can work anywhere you please. Even overWaste, if you . . .

No , Ellie had said, with more firmness than she felt. I belong here .

Such funny little words. Such a funny feeling, to belong anywhere. Was she ever going to get the hang of it again?

The SUV’s engine roused as Avery closed the passenger-side door of his own car. Ellie took a deep breath, and when he dropped down into the seat she scooted over and did the next awkward thing. Her lips met his cheek. As kisses went, it was just a shy peck, and she retreated to her side of the car with fire-hot cheeks and her heart beating thinly against her ribs.

She’d gained a little weight, but she still felt . . . well, oddly clear. As if sometimes the light would shine right through her. She couldn’t decide if it was comforting, or . . . not.

Avery sat very still for a moment, before jamming the key in the ignition. “Wow.” A goofy grin split his face, and his hair was a furnace of gold streaks. “What was that for?”

“For everything.” She settled back, and the flush died down. He wasn’t angry. It was a start.

“Any chance I can get a real kiss?” He darted her a shy glance, and Ellie ducked her head, her hair sweeping forward. It was still pale as Auntie’s had been, but the waves in it were new. It was growing out nicely, and Livvie often sighed and ruffled it, just as she easily ruffled Avery’s dark-gold head.

At least Ellie knew what to say to him . “Pushing your luck, Fletcher.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Ell?”

“Hmm?”

He twisted the key, and the Del Toro purred. The Marconi crackled into life, one of Hellward’s slower songs lifting gently from the speakers he’d installed by hand. That was why the car was a hulk, because he wanted to fix it himself. He would even teach Ellie how to do some of it—she had helped with the wiring, snatching her fingers back when suppressors sparked against her Potential.

“So, are we . . . you know, dating?”

Oh, Mithrus. How am I going to answer that? She decided to take another small risk, since it seemed to be a day for it. “Kind of.” Weighed it, found it wanting, so she added a little bit more. “I mean, if you want to.”

“Finally.” He rolled his eyes, dropped the Del Toro into reverse, and backed them carefully out of the parking space. It was agonizing to go so slowly, sometimes, and he was irritating as all hell.

But he was steady. He’d grown up.

Have I?

“I thought you’d never ask,” Avery continued, craning back over his shoulder as they reversed. He turned back to the front, and his hand not-quite-casually brushed her shoulder. “So I can call you my girl now?”

“I guess.” A warmth began inside her, the last of the cold leaching away.

“Hot damn. Well, where do you want to go?”

Ellie leaned back in the seat and shut her eyes. My baby has a witchy eye , Hellward sang, scratchy and rough, but with a lilt behind the words. She’s my baby, all right .

“Anywhere,” she said, quietly. “Anywhere, with you.”

It was a ruined little place, and she found it almost by accident, wandering aimlessly under black-barked elms. She’d had some vague idea of finding the train station again, but this town turned her around, and the terror inside her head had robbed her of much conscious thought. The sedatives they’d given her at the hospital wore off only slowly, and when she surfaced, weaving unsteadily in another girl’s old, too-small, scuffed maryjanes, silver tinkles breaking free of their straps, she found herself staring at a blasted trellis.

Behind it was a scattered path of bony chips, gleaming in the dark. She plodded up the path, her mouth working slowly, her hair hanging in her face.

There was a dilapidated brownstone shack, more like a two-story shed, queerly melted and sagging as if acid had poured over the bricks. It smelled faintly of sugar and feathers, and she gave it a wide berth. Something in her recognized the danger—some aching space where once there had been a wellspring of color and light.

The well was dry now, drained by—

— Mommy? —

The thought mercifully fled as soon as it arrived, and she found herself crouching on the back step of the shed. This door was blasted off its hinges too, and the rustling inside pulled her forward. There was something not quite . . . right, here, something she might have remembered, if she could remember anything at all with her head a mass of whirling noise and hurt.