Three days had passed since I’d seen another person’s face—well, aside from the guardian who brought me my food twice a day. At any given moment, I knew there were literally hundreds of people just across the short hall, packed into the Council Room, but they might as well be on Mars as far I was concerned. I had gotten my first glimpse of the enormous and elaborately decorated room when I was presented to them, not five minutes after returning home. The silence that greeted me that day was deafening. Chris’ dad, positioned at a podium near the front, was the only one to speak, and it wasn’t a glad to have you back. He announced that I was being formally charged with crimes against nature, for both being and concealing a conjurer, for concealing a vampire, conspiracy to mislead the public—he continued naming charges, but it was at that moment that I noticed the Elder Witches, my grandmother in particular, with their arms bound behind them, down in the front row. I was able to meet her worried eyes for just a second before I felt my own arms being jerked painfully behind me, my own wrists being tied together. Then all hell broke loose. People were on their feet, faces filled with anger, some screaming at the top of their lungs, both at me and at the Elder Witches down in the front row. Chris’ dad tried to calm them down, but it was a futile attempt. It wasn’t until a ball of fire exploded into existence mere inches from my face that the guardians decided it a good idea to pull me out of the room. They carried me across the hall to the bare windowless room where I had listened to Mrs. Moorer being taunted by my grandmother through some boy’s cell phone, where a recently deceased friend of mine had first contacted me with her mind.
I could still hear them across the hall sometimes, and although I was certain it was nothing I wanted to hear, I still found myself thankful for a reminder that the outside world hadn’t ceased to exist. The hours of solitude could be unbearable at times, and it was maddening to have no way of knowing whether the people I cared about were okay. Questions and worries floated around the room, taking turns with their attacks, mocking the futility of my existence. I was scared for my grandmother, seeing her bound like that had shaken me more than anything else had about this ordeal. If she wasn’t in control, then who was? What would happen to her? Or my mother—would she be guilty by association? Then I would think about Taylor, wondering how badly she’d been hurt by Aiden. Again, someone else was suffering for an attack meant for me—I should never have gone to her house in the first place. And, of course, I worried about the boys who’d fought to protect me. There hadn’t been time to hide Tristan properly, Darren and Taylor had been hurt too badly to wait, so I just moved him into a closet and hoped for the best. The guardians arrived within minutes of my phone call; though looking back, it was probably because they were already out looking to arrest me. Both Tristan and Darren had been hurt so badly, they could both be dead if I was being completely honest with myself. My mother said that I was the eternal optimist, but even I was finding it immensely difficult to stay positive now. All of the people I cared about were in some kind of trouble, and as much as I wished otherwise, it seemed impossible, even to me, that all of them could come through this unscathed.
Two were already dead.
My dreams were my only escape. I was still visited by new memories of Tristan whenever I drifted into slumber, and for a time the world would become magical again, and I’d be reminded of why it was I felt so strongly about him. I tried to resist the dreams at first—I hadn’t chosen to save Tristan, so it didn’t feel right to have him come to my rescue via a memory. But was it a choice, really? I was going to die in a matter of months, and if Tristan was still alive when I did, then he was going to end his own life. Darren still had a chance for a family, a life, a future—if that blow from Aiden hadn’t killed him already. But my willpower could only take so much, being awake was both painful and exhausting, and after the first night’s blissful reprieve, I found myself trying to sleep as much as possible. I would take naps as often as my body would allow, only being upset with myself once I awoke at how easily I abandoned everyone and everything to disappear into some fairytale fantasy land.
They came for me on the third night. There was no warning and no knock, just a dozen or so guardians storming into the room. One of them pulled me onto my feet, and with the help of another, he began to drag me forcibly out of the room. I shouted to them that they were hurting me but they didn’t seem to hear me. I was being pulled, stumbling after them, not into the Council Room, but through the house and into the ballroom where I could see torches lit up out past the gardens through the large window panels.
Hundreds had gathered outside the mansion, silent as if they were attending a funeral. They were split into two groups, with three quarters of those present belonging to the larger crowd of people. I found my family and friends standing in front of the smaller gathering. My grandmother began to weep the moment she saw me, leaning into the arms of my mother, who was ever the strong woman. My mother met my gaze with an expression familiar to me. She gave me that same look when I was much younger, when I had possessed a genuine fear of monsters being in my closet or beneath my bed. It was the look that said not to be afraid. Only, her needing to give me those comforting eyes now only succeeded in making me more afraid. Why had they brought me out here? Darren and Taylor were next to them, and for a moment, an overwhelming relief to see that both of them were okay muted the fear. Still, the pity in both their eyes, Taylor’s mixed with what looked like complete disbelief, confirmed my fears. Something terrible was about to happen.
Whispers broke out when the guardians released my arms, causing me to fall forward onto my knees. It wasn’t until I looked up again that I saw the instrument of death I recognized instantly. A stake.
Duncan was standing in front of it, his eyes as fierce as ever. Hatred radiated out of them as he commanded me to stand. Trembling, I did as he asked.
“Princess,” he started, his deep voice ringing in the night air. “You have been declared guilty, by the people gathered here today, of treason. You have consorted with vampires and a confirmed conjurer, both enemies of witch folk the world over. On top of that, you have yourself been confirmed a conjurer. Your accomplices have been rounded up, having each been declared guilty for aiding in your crimes. As tradition holds, there can only be one course of action for crimes this egregious, the most severe of our punishments. Your accomplices, in accordance with their own sentences, will be forced to watch. You, princess, have been sentenced to death by fire.”
That got a reaction. Murmurs started at first, followed by full on shouts—protests by members of the smaller crowd. My supporters. Their own accusations of treason were making several in the larger crowd visibly uneasy, and they began to talk amongst themselves.
However, who cares about how uncomfortable they were. I was the one about to die. This was it—all that I would ever do had already happened. It wasn’t the fear so much that filled my eyes with tears, but bitter disappointment. So much of my life I’d spent sheltered away from having normal experiences, an effort to protect me from the vampires that hunted me. Moreover, in this moment of weakness, I felt the old resentments toward my mother sprouting up again. Then, to be told that I only had months to live, well that seemed like a cruel joke. But there was hope even then; I could still make this life something memorable in my remaining time, something fantastic, to leave my mark on the world. What was left now?
“We shall now commence with the final arguments,” Duncan announced. He moved closer to the crowds, stopping once he was equally close to both of them.
“Fellow citizens!” he shouted. “It was never our intention to disrupt the natural order of things—these laws which have governed our kind since the beginning. But once it was discovered that those in power had chosen to deceive us about something as basic as our own security, we had to act. They told us our borders were safe, that no harm could come to us so long as we remained within the safety of our “safe” haven. All the while, we’ve been very much in danger. Our children, tucked into their beds at night have been very much in danger. Our beloved heir, whom we welcomed back with open arms, whom I escorted back here personally, has deceived us! Vampires! The very same creatures that have victimized our brothers and sisters outside the havens for hundreds of years. The creatures that have left a trail of grief and despair unequaled in the whole history of the world, walking among us freely, while those in power told us that we were paranoid to suspect anything. Our interrogation of Helena Bohnam has revealed that not only was our princess well aware of their presence here, but that she’s left with them on numerous occasions. Days after a vampire kills her mother for all natural purposes, she’s become chummy with their kind.”
“But I do not fault her entirely. Her actions, I’m sure, could not be helped. You see she is a confirmed conjurer. We’ve all heard the stories as children. We all saw how the evil twisted London McArthur’s mind. I’m sure, in fact, that it’s done irreparable damage to our heir’s as well. The vampires recognized the evil in her soul, perhaps they even bonded over that common attribute. This unnatural alliance is what led her to invite predators into our haven, to use her disgusting black magic to weaken the old magic that keeps the vampires out. But our kind have persevered this treachery. We have sniffed out this plot to bring down our haven and this traitorous girl must be punished for this most terrible of betrayals. The conjurer must die!”
The shouts that went up from the larger crowd sent chills down my spine. They were the very same people who would cheer anytime I entered a room, and now they all wanted me dead. Duncan had fed them of some kind of conspiracy theory and they had all lapped it up. Already angry and afraid, I found myself hating them for it.
Darren stepped up next and Duncan began to chuckle. “Now we get to hear from a boy who’s so wrapped up in “puppy” love he can’t see the forest through the trees.”
Snickers sounded. Darren glared at Duncan.
“If I may, I’d like to speak on Ms. Adams’ behalf.” The voice had come from the larger crowd.
There was shock on nearly everyone’s faces once they had turned to find that Mrs. Moorer was the one who had spoken. Duncan’s too. Darren looked to my mother and she nodded. My mother was the take-charge type—as a single mother on the run, she’d had to be. She was also terrific at putting a plan together, so it wasn’t any surprise when people looked to her for leadership. She could have had Mrs. Moorer planted there, just to have this effect when she spoke up for me. But even if this wasn’t planned, it was probably for the better; Duncan had certainly destroyed Darren’s credibility with the shot he’d just taken at him.
Mrs. Moorer took the spot directly beside Duncan and began to speak. “Let me begin by saying that regardless of what I’ve alleged in the past, there is only proof of one vampire having ever been within our haven’s borders—London’s vampire, the very same vampire later found dead, killed by the very girl you hold accountable for his being here. Why, if there were some great collusion between Ms. Adams and the vampire, would her friends have been injured in what was so obviously a fight? However, even if that logic wasn’t so terribly insulting, there is the fact every schoolmate—every single one—swears that London and Anastasia hated one another. The guardians outside the house said the two were arguing after the “infamous” community service trip. Does trying to revive a dead schoolmate make you an accomplice in their concealing a vampire? Locking Helena Bohnam in a cellar for two days as you badger her into saying something you can use—is that evidence? None of these charges would stand up in a traditional trial. Open your eyes people! There is only one reason that we are here tonight, and that’s because Ms. Adams has been confirmed a conjurer. Duncan, like so many before him, has used one fact and a cloud of “maybes” to play upon the fears of the many. It seems no one has mentioned that a haven sans an heir and Chief Advisor falls to the Chief Guardian to inherit. So please, let us address these fears.”
“I, like many here, was taught to fear and loathe conjurers, and my deceased grandparents are among the most loving people I’ve known. “Conjurers are evil,” they told me, “worse than any three vampires.” Strong opinions, given the fact that neither of them had ever come across a conjurer in their lifetimes. I suspect that this history is very similar to that of most of the people gathered here tonight. Yet, something happened to me the night London McArthur died. I watched a conjurer with everything to lose, risk it all to save another. I sat there, watching her try repeatedly and I found myself thinking, how can something evil perform an act so selfless? So I tried to compare what I was seeing with what else I knew about conjurers, discovering that when I really thought about it, there was nothing to compare it with—nothing I knew for certain—the sum of my knowledge being what I’d heard from others. I teach both math and history at Heathwood, and I’m always pointing out to my students that throughout man’s history, the simple act of prejudice has led to terrible injustices and unspeakable atrocities—never realizing until that night that I had fallen into the very same trap. Ms. Adams’ being here is not a curse, but rather a gift, a chance to put to rest all of the myths that surrounded our conceptions of what conjurers actually are. What we do here will affect what our children do in the future. And haven’t we already seen what can become of a child that is taught to hate blindly? Isn’t one senseless death too many?”
I’d like to say that the skill with which Mrs. Moorer had penetrated Duncan’s wildly bogus accusations (London’s idea to play enemies, though equally dishonest, had helped) or that the passion with which she spoke about giving me a real chance had really made a difference. That people had really considered her words and thought them over carefully. But they didn’t. Not one person changed sides. Not one. This was real life, I reminded myself, and as close as my life had come to resemble a fairytale in the past, it most assuredly wasn’t.
“The people have spoken,” Duncan announced triumphantly. “Tie her to the post.”
Then, several members of the smaller crowd surged forward, but the fifty or so guardians present headed them off. I saw three of them take Darren down forcibly and I called out to him to stop resisting so the men would stop hitting him. However, he wouldn’t stop, none of them did, and the guardians met their unyielding spirit with brutal force, despite Duncan’s calls to use caution.
I closed my eyes to shut it all out, to block out the thoughts of being literally set on fire, but when I felt two sets of hands lift me up, I reacted. I fought against them, maniacally, twisting and kicking my feet as much as I could. If those few supporters could fight for me, then I could at least fight for my own life. Even if it was a losing battle.
I felt the stiff wood slam into my back, and the pain ended my personal revolt. Ropes wrapped around me and I saw Duncan taking the torch from Chris’ dad a few feet away. I was shaking, even through the ropes, and the sounds of people’s voices filled my head. I was hearing their thoughts but it was all muddled together and sounded like static. This couldn’t be the end…it just couldn’t. Not like this.
Duncan thrust the flaming torch into the air and all efforts to resist slowly came to a stop. This was it. They’d failed. I was about to die. I watched him toss the torch into the air and followed it with my eyes until it hit the stacks of wood beneath my feet. The fire shot up in front of me and I shut my eyes.
Only, the pain never came. I opened my eyelids to find Tristan’s depthless green eyes staring back at me, and for a moment I thought I might be dead already, that Tristan had never made it out of that closet, and impossibly, he was waiting for me… in heaven—until I heard the pain in his voice.
“I’m going… to get you free,” he whispered into my face. That snapped me back into reality.
Tristan’s arms were wrapped tightly around me, his body the only thing keeping the fire from reaching mine. The flames hadn’t spread beyond the area being shielded off by Tristan and I could feel his hands working at the ropes behind me. Every second that passed, the flames lashed away at his back. I begged him to hurry, before we both met our ends on this stake.
Finally, I felt the ropes around me begin to give way, and I wiggled myself free enough to help him. Once the ropes fell away, he grabbed hold of me and leapt backwards, away from the fire that suddenly swallowed up the stake.
Tristan was too injured to land cleanly. We ended up sprawled out on the grass. He’d landed on his stomach and I crawled over to him. His back and legs were black and raw and smoke lifted off him.
I had just reached him when the first streaks of fire lit up the field. Even now, they tried to kill us and something in me snapped. I’d had enough. I jumped to my feet and with a wave of my hand, the streaks vanished in midflight. I wasn’t sure how I knew that I could make them go away, but I did. I also realized that I had been the one to keep the fire from lighting the stake up completely.
One or two of the guardians prepared for another volley when a woman’s voice rang out across the field. “Enough.”
A hooded figure had appeared in front of me, addressing the wall of guardians and scattered witch folk beyond them. “It has come to Daemon’s attention that the witches in this haven have decided to revolt. I am here to advise you to do otherwise. If by chance you do not heed this warning, this haven will be destroyed, as the treaty entitles us to do.”
Duncan stepped forward. “Who do you think you are?”
“I am Surya, the seventh, acting commander of the second army.”
“Army?” Duncan scoffed. “What army?”
The cloaked figure put up her hand, holding something to the moonlight that shimmered. In groups of ten and twenty, they began to appear beyond the scattered witch folk, and they kept coming until the entire field was blanketed by cloaked figures. There had to be a thousand of them.
With the cloaked woman’s help, Tristan struggled up to his feet and the cloaked figures all dropped to their knees. “It’s time you all knew the truth,” he announced. “The witches lost the war. I am the one who keeps the vampires out of Brighton, not some silly spell. Your leaders have only done as the leaders before them agreed to do when the treaty that ended the war was written. So go home to your children. You have my personal assurance that you will not be harmed. But here this, never attempt to hurt this girl again or I swear there will be hell to pay.”
Stunned, the crowd began to disperse, many casting nervous glances at the sea of vampires behind them. Some came over to me instead, the majority being the supporters whose loyalty towards me had never wavered. Others offered their apologies, insisting they had been pressured into siding with Duncan.
Tristan kept them all at an arm’s distance before finally giving up. He swept me up into his arms and leapt to my balcony. Again, the landing was anything but smooth; he was still hurt, and winced noticeably. He took me into my room, and let me down onto my own feet. I stared into those green eyes and knew everything he wanted to say, I could feel the words. Written into the relief in his eyes and the parting of lips was a reminder, telling me once again that I was the most precious thing in his world. But I wasn’t sure if he knew…
“Tristan…I killed him.”
“I know, Ana.” He was working hard to keep the sorrow from his face now, but his eyes weren’t capable of lying. Not to me.
“I’m sorry, so sorry—“
“I know you, Ana. You don’t have to explain anything—you did what you had to. What matters is that you’re alright. As long as you’re safe, then I have a reason to go on.”
We had a connection, him and me, and even if my part in it wasn’t truly my own, we were both hurting inside, and being together helped immensely. It was as though our souls could actually reach out and heal the souls of others. I put my arms around him and we shared a private moment of quiet, safety, and more than anything, relief. If he truly wished me dead then I would be. But being that I wasn’t, I couldn’t help but feel like I should have known that already.
It wasn’t until I’d released him that I noticed the cloaked figure on my balcony. Tristan’s face saddened once he’d turned to see what had drawn my attention.
“I have to go now, but I’ll be back soon.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
He started towards the door but stopped short of it, a faint smile on his face now. “Maybe the next time you discover that you can control fire, you can keep me from getting burned, too.”
My emotions were swirling around inside me. Just because Tristan wasn’t angry with me didn’t mean I wasn’t angry with myself. “Thank you,” I said. It felt like so little given the fact that he had just risked his life to save me. Me, the girl he loved more than anything, even after I had killed his oldest friend in the world.
He nodded and then stepped out onto the balcony, where he exchanged a few words with the cloaked figure. In the next instant, both had vanished.
Adrenaline still coursed through my arteries and I didn’t know what to do with myself now that I was alone. After pacing around my room for a few minutes, I gave up on calming down and decided to search out my family and friends.
My mother met me just inside my door. I was swallowed up into another hug, and felt others latch on: my grandmother, poor Helena (who I could never blame for her admissions), and Taylor (who, I reminded myself, I needed to have a long talk with). Someone tripped, and with each of us so tangled up, everyone but my grandmother ended up on the floor, laughing. My grandmother found it particularly funny, as she was the only one to manage staying upright. I felt myself finally begin to relax with the people I cared about so near and safe. Somehow, everyone had made it through this second nightmare. But where was Darren?
Right on cue, he stepped into room my next. There were bruises along the sides of his face and neck, and his shirt was ripped. When I met his eyes, everything slowed down. There was only he and I in that fraction of a second, and he stepped into the room and threw his arms around me. I wasn’t sure who had been the one to suggest giving us some privacy but I was grateful. He began to kiss me the way that I’d only seen in movies—that kiss you give to that special someone after beating impossible odds. Only, once our lips finally parted, I discovered that we weren’t entirely alone. Darren's body tensed, and i knew even before i turned my head who i'd find there.
Tristan.