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The creatures shout and raise their fists in imagined victory.
One of the trackers sniffs the air. “Something is amiss,” he howls. “I feel the living among us!”
Snarling and shrieking, the creatures turn on each other, pointing accusing fingers. One of the beasts jumps on the back of another with shouts of “Traitor!” before sinking his teeth into the other’s neck. The trackers try to take control but it is hard for them to be heard above the din.
“Kartik,” I whisper, “we must leave.”
He still stares at his cursed brother, his eyes wet. I do not wait for his response. Quickly, I pull him away from the crowd and the terrible sight of what his brother has become. We slip carefully through the crowd, narrowly avoiding the punches thrown. As we come to the chasm through the rock, I hear Amar shouting for order amidst the chaos. The sky screams. Another soul has been sacrificed, and the creatures unite, cheering.
More skinless creatures slither from the rocks. They grab at our ankles with hands as slick and fast as fish, making me scream. It echoes for a moment, and I fear it shall be heard by the others. I kick at the thing’s hand. It slinks back into its hiding place, and I pull Kartik as quickly as I can toward the boat.
“Gorgon, we must leave with the utmost haste,” I say.
“As you wish, Most High.” She steers a course out of the Winterlands. I tell her what we have seen, though as a kindness, I do not mention Amar’s part in it. The churning sky eases into the indifferent dusk of the Borderlands, then into the bright blue near the Caves of Sighs, and into the orange sunset of the garden.
Kartik has not spoken a word the entire voyage. He has sat on deck, his knees drawn to his chest, his head buried in his hands. I do not know what to say. I would have spared him that.
“She,” I say, shaking my head. “She set the plan in motion.”
“What is it?” Gorgon asks.
An anger I’ve never known rises in me. “Circe. She made a pact with the creatures long ago, and she wanted me to think that was in the past. She’s never stopped trying to take back the power. I won’t be her pawn any longer.”
“What would you bid me do, Most High?”
“Ride to Philon and the forest folk. Tell them what has happened and that I would join hands with them tonight. I will return with my friends, and we will meet at the Temple. Offer to the Untouchables again as well. They may still be swayed.”
“As you wish.”
“Gorgon,” I call.
“Yes, Most High?”
I do not know how to ask what I want to know. “If I share the magic, if we join hands, will that end it?”
Gorgon shakes her head slowly. “I cannot say. These are strange days. Nothing is as it was before. All rules are forfeit, and no one knows what will happen.”
I lead Kartik over the path by the Borderlands and through the corridor. We step through the secret door onto the lawn of Spence. From the open windows above, I can hear applause and murmuring. Nightwing announcing Miss Cecily Temple’s recitation of “The Rose of Battle.”
Everything is familiar and yet nothing seems as it was. Kartik won’t look at me, and I wish we could go back to that moment in the Caves of Sighs when we put our hands to the stones.
“That creature feeding souls to the tree. That was my brother.”
“I’m very sorry.” I reach out my fingers but he will not be touched. “Kartik.”
“I’ve failed him. I’ve failed—”
He brushes past me and breaks into a run.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
I’M TREMBLING AS I RETURN TO THE MASKED BALL. A MAN in a Harlequin mask brushes past, startling me.
“Terribly sorry,” he says, giving me a smile that seems demonic beneath that hideous mask.
I slip back into the ballroom, where the girls perform their recital. I see Felicity sitting with Ann in her Lady Macbeth costume. “I must speak with you both at once,” I whisper, and they hurry after me to the library. Ann flips idly through a halfpenny paper: Mabel: A Girl of Newbury School. I’ve no doubt it follows the same story as all the others: A poor but decent girl is subjected to the cruel taunts of her school chums, only to be saved by a rich relative. And then all the petty schoolgirls are right sorry they’ve teased her so. But Mabel (or Annabelle or Dorothy—they are all the same) forgives them sweetly, never thinking a bad thought about anyone, and everyone has learned a valuable lesson in the end.
I should like to throw that rubbish on the fire.
