Celia sat in the too-small, too-dark room. The bare walls stared back at her, mocking her. She sat up straight, arms folded, gazing ahead of her. Her face was carefully blank, hiding the twists of fear circling inside.
Celia knew about the interviewing method of “Tell me or else”. With her, they hadn’t bothered with “tell me”. They’d skipped straight to “or else”. Celia knew what “or else” included. She knew what happened in this room. And she was afraid.
“Karn.”
She turned to look at the carefully emotionless face of a young man she knew well.
“Last chance to talk,” he warned her.
Celia looked at his face, reading the flash of fear, pity and regret that he let show momentarily in his eyes. Feeling guilty for making him do this, she shook her head once.
“I’m sorry, Celia,” he murmured. “I really am.”
A girl stepped through the door.
“I’m not,” she said, happily. “Hello, Celia, darling.”
“Hello, Maria,” Celia said, without enthusiasm.
Maria Crew laughed, scraping her hair back into a ponytail.
“What have you done this time, Celia? Something dramatic, I expect. It always is.”
Celia said nothing while her mind went and curled in a corner, shaking with terror.
“What do they even want you to say?” Maria asked.
“You don’t know?”
Maria shrugged. “Hey, I’m just meant to get you to say it.”
Celia sighed. “Where is the princess?” she said, in a sing-song voice. “Why are you on her side? Who is travelling with her? Where are your allies? Where are you safe houses?”
“Oh, basic stuff then,” Maria smiled. “Feel free to talk anytime, Celia, dear.”
Celia looked straight into her eyes. “You’ll pay, Maria. Every time you do this, you know you will pay. I’ll make sure of it.”
Maria laughed. “Ah, Celia, it’s amazing how naïve you are. No, you are the one who will pay.”
She lifted her hands and Celia braced herself, knowing what was coming and dreading it.
“Are you ready, sister?” Maria cried, exultantly. “Are you ready for pain?”
It came and it was like a red-hot knife driven into Celia’s skull. It was like her bones being ripped out one by one. It was like being stabbed over and over and over. It was worse than anything she could have imagined. And it was real.
Chrysanthemum was sitting in a café when Blue and Sophie walked in. Blue was still grumbling about Necromancers, but Sophie had stopped listening.
“Can’t we eat?” she had complained. “I haven’t had any food since a shortbread biscuit yesterday evening.”
Blue had confirmed that lunchtime was on the way and that a milkshake could hardly be frowned upon.
“Onwards!” he had declared, “To milkshake and beyond!”
The sight of Chrysanthemum startled them considerably and they froze, instantly assuming it was a trick.
“It’s not,” Chrysanthemum glanced at their faces. “I got out.”
Tala was beside her, nursing a wounded foot, grumbling to herself.
“What happened to you?” Sophie asked, shocked.
Tala scowled. “I’d forgotten how dead concrete is.”
Blue grinned. “Really? Tala took a tumble?”
“Shut up,” the girl snapped. “Where’ve you been, anyway?”
Blue laughed. “Touchy, touchy.”
“We’ve been in the graveyard,” Sophie interrupted.
“Yes,” Blue’s smile vanished. “Something bad has happened.”
Tala froze and Chrysanthemum’s face was momentarily still.
“Sit down, you two,” she said, eventually. “You must be starving. Then you can explain all about it.”
Celia lay in the corner, arms looped over her head, eyes raw and itchy from crying, shaking like a leaf.
“It’s not hard, Celia,” Maria stood over her, a towering giant topped with a smirk, “All you have to do is answer the questions.”
Celia didn’t trust herself to speak. Her mouth was full of blood from where she’d bit into her tongue. Her head was full of screaming.
“Come now,” Maria laughed, “I don’t want to hurt you. That would be wrong.”
“You are wrong,” Celia gasped out, fighting to keep hysteria out of her tone. “You are wrong and twisted and evil.”
“That’s not a nice thing to say to me,” Maria pouted. “You want me to tell mummy?”
Celia didn’t even think. She threw herself at Maria with fists and teeth, screaming and screaming.
Maria shrieked and thrust out her hands. Impossible pain struck Celia straight through and she fell back, crashing into the wall, collapsing in a trembling, sobbing heap.
“Don’t,” Maria hissed. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you ever think you can hurt me.”
Celia lifted her head and stared through shadowed eyes at Maria.
“Why?” she whispered. “Just…why?”
Maria laughed. “Oh, please. Why is a child’s question.”
Celia bit her lip so hard that blood ran down her chin. “Why?”
Maria sighed. “You want me to gloat? Spill out plans? Let you escape and destroy everything I’ve built for myself?”
Celia didn’t answer and Maria laughed again.
“I’m not so weak anymore, Celia, darling. Not even close. I’ve grown up.”
Celia thought an answer but didn’t say it. Maria knew what she was thinking.
“You have a lot to learn,” Maria sneered, “about the world. Precious, perfect, pretty Celia with your big ideas and loud voice and arrogant little mind. You know nothing.”
Celia swallowed hard.
“I learnt the hard way, Celia. I learnt the long way, the slow way, the painful way, what this world is like. I learnt about people in a way you never did. And you will pay for the pain of those lessons.”
Celia looked up at a hate-filled face.
“No,” she croaked, through cracked lips. “No, you will pay.”
Maria raised an eyebrow. “Oh, will I? Will perfect Celia be defiant to the last? Will you stand up tall and rid the world of evil and injustice? Because you know what? You’ve failed. Injustice? My life was injustice from beginning to end. Because of you.”
“No,” Celia tried to keep her voice audible. “No, it was because of you. Because of who you were. Because of why you were.”
Maria smiled. “Dear, sweet sister….it is so lovely to see you looking helpless. Maybe I should just kill you….say you snapped under the pressure….such a weakling….”
“Another murder, Maria? Another family member dead?”
“We were never family,” Maria’s laugh was full of anger. “You and me? We were never sisters. Because you were the real child and I was just a curse.”
“That’s not my fault,” Celia whispered.
“No,” Maria agreed. “But you are your fault. And they’ve already paid.”
Celia wished she wasn’t crying. She wished there was something other than screaming in her head. She wished she was rocked by spasms, aftershocks of pain more than any should have to bear.
“You killed my parents.”
Maria nodded. “And enjoyed it thoroughly.”
“She was your mother too.”
“Yeah, right,” Maria snorted. “My mother. A weak, pale, fearful little dishrag of a woman. She didn’t care about me. She only cared about you.”
“You know that’s a lie.”
Maria bent closer, so that her face was only millimetres from Celia’s.
“Yeah,” she breathed, “I know that’s a lie. But it’s close enough.”
“Father…” Celia tried to form a coherent sentence.
Maria laughed. “Yes, your precious father. Shall I tell you all about it? Shall I tell you how he screamed and begged for mercy? Shall I tell you how that proud man sobbed and cried and begged me for death?”
“I hate you.”
It was all Celia could think of saying and Maria laughed, delightedly.
“I’m so glad. That will make this all the more satisfying.”
She raised her hands and Celia knew that the pain that was coming would outrank all expectations. It would be, against all reason, worse than anything she’d felt before. And it would kill her.
“Why?” she whispered again, wanting to hear the answer, wanting to know. “Why, Maria?”
Maria smiled. “Shall I tell you?”
“Don’t gloat,” she begged. “Just tell me.”
“Very well,” Maria smirked. “I found a family that was proud of me. A family that cared about me. I found a whole new world. I found my father, Celia. My father. I’m his daughter now.”
“No,” Celia cried. “No!”
Maria unleashed the full fury of her power and Celia’s screams twisted in her throat, tangled, stopping her breath. Maria’s laughter echoed in her ears.
“Necromancers?”
Chrysanthemum stirred her tea with dignity but her eyes were troubled.
“Yes,” Sophie apologised. “But not the evil sort.”
“You can’t know that,” Chrysanthemum sighed. “You can never know that.”
“I can,” Sophie said, firmly.
“Never mind that,” Blue interrupted. “The real problem is the prophecy. We need to know exactly what it says. We need to know the choices Sophie’s going to have to make.”
“You realise what you are suggesting?” Chrysanthemum glared at him.
Blue shrugged. “Hey, I’m Blue Last. It should be easy.”
“No,” Tala shook her head. “No, Blue, it won’t be. Because this is Necromancers. You won’t be able to just pop in and borrow a book. There will be enchantments. You will die.”
“Why would they kill me?” Blue argued. “They think death is liberation.”
“It’s religion,” Tala snapped. “Contradictions are allowed. And they will kill you and no power in the world could bring you back.”
“She’s right,” Chrysanthemum allowed. “If a Necromancer wants you dead, you’ll be dead beyond the reaches of even their own kind. You’ll be dead and taken and gone, on the farthest plains of Beyond. You will be lost forever.”
“Alright,” Blue gave in. “But the fact remains. We have to find out what that prophecy really says.”
“Hold on,” Sophie held up a hand. “So, we have to break into some kind of secret Necromancer temple, search the libraries for a secret document that might not be there, and then escape alive?”
“Yes,” the other three said, in one voice.
“That’s easy then,” Sophie drained the last of her milkshake. “I think I have a plan.”