Torn. Part 16

"Luc kept talking about a prophecy. He said Verity was supposed to save the world."

"She was."

"From what?"

We stopped along the Riverwalk. Somewhere nearby, Colin was watching over me like a cranky guardian angel, but I didn't have to look. The breeze tugged wisps of hair from my ponytail, the curving gla.s.s of the offices on Wacker Drive reflected the sky, and the water taxis and tour boats cruised past us on the river below. It was all so normal, a sight Verity and I had witnessed a thousand times. It didn't seem possible the rest of the world didn't notice she was gone. They continued about their routine as if nothing had happened. At least the Arcs recognized the sheer wrongness of her death.

"I'm happy to answer your questions, Mo, but I'd prefer we establish the cloaking spell first."

"Will it hurt?"

"A bit, to set it. After that, you won't notice it's there." She took my hand in hers and, with a quick slash of one perfectly French-manicured nail, nicked the pale inner skin of my wrist.

"Ow!" I said, trying to jerk away. The strength of her grip was surprising.

"You would find a Darkling much more painful." She stretched her free hand out over the railing, palm down. Waving her fingers in a graceful summoning motion, she took a deep breath, about to speak.

The gesture reminded me of something. "It was you. At the cemetery."

Her hand stopped and she raised an eyebrow, her expression glacial.

"You had on a blue robe."

"That was a ceremony for our kind. You should not have witnessed it." Despite the even, measured tone of her words, a dark, fast current of anger ran underneath them.

"Luc made you all vanish. He did something to me."

"Not to you. He concealed the ritual, like drawing a curtain shut at the theatre. You cost him the chance to partic.i.p.ate," she added. "By rights, he should have led us. May we continue?"

I didn't answer, stunned by her words. No wonder he thought I was always interfering-ruining Verity's funeral, taking her ring-surviving when she hadn't. Now I'd demanded a partnership. He was either incredibly forgiving or incredibly desperate. I had a sinking feeling I knew which.

Evangeline began speaking in the strange, fluid language I'd heard both Verity and Luc use. I stood mesmerized by the sound. It was a startling contrast to the harsh noises of the city-the cabs and buses jockeying for position, the street musician across the bridge, the commuters and tourists rushing past us-and even though Evangeline spoke softly, it filled my head and blotted everything else out.

Still murmuring, she curled her fingers along the cut she'd made. I winced at the pain but stayed silent. Her fingertips beat a strange tattoo against my pulse. Suddenly the air felt twice as heavy on my skin, and I staggered under the uncomfortable pressure. The sensation vanished, and Evangeline was quiet again. She let go of my hand.

"That should suffice," she said. "It will break if you wear the ring, but for everyday concealment, you should be protected."

"You're sure?" The more magic I witnessed, the more dangerous it seemed. For once, it would be nice to have it on my side.

She looked offended. "Of course. Now, let's continue on before your protector decides I'm not to be trusted."

We made our way over to the Mart, crossing under the "L" tracks and weaving past tourists wielding cameras like weapons. The last time I'd been here, Verity and I had gone to an art show. I'd found a necklace I liked-gla.s.s beads and hammered metal spheres strung on superfine wires-but after one look at the price tag, I'd kept my hands in my pockets and trailed after Vee, who charmed the sellers and negotiated prices that were almost, but not quite, affordable. Now I followed Evangeline across the tiled lobby to the long bank of elevators, trying to distract myself.

"Luc said every Arc uses one element. Is yours water?" I asked as the elevator doors closed.

"Yes. Chicago is a good city for me, as is New Orleans, but even in the desert, there are lines of every element. The amount of power varies-not all conduits are equally strong-but a trained pract.i.tioner can accomplish much with even a thready line."

"What was Verity's talent?"

"Ah, Verity. She was so special," Evangeline said, her voice catching, taking on that dreary, dusty tone adults always used when they were being nostalgic. She paused, adjusting the lapel of her jacket, and continued. "I didn't realize it at first-I'd a.s.sumed she had a talent for water, as I did. It was the first kind we'd tried, and she took to it so naturally. It's quite common for such things to run in families, you know."

"Sure." Genetics I could understand. Verity's family pa.s.sed along magical abilities, mine carried the chromosome for crime and deception.

"I asked Verity to complete a transformation-to change the contents of a bowl from apples to pears. It's a simple-enough task-we can neither create matter nor destroy it, but we can transform it quite easily. Child's play, really, but she'd only been using magic consciously for a few weeks. I wanted to see how much energy she could draw from the closest ley line. The closest water line," she emphasized. "Instead, she tapped into a nearby earth line. I'd never paid it much attention before then. It served no purpose for me."

"And that was a big deal?"

"Most Arcs can use only one element. A rare few can use two, and it's considered a mark of great power. Three is unheard of, except in the prophecy." She sounded simultaneously awed and envious.

"And Verity had three." Somehow, this was not a surprise to me. Of course Verity had more powers than the other Arcs. She had more talent than the rest of the senior cla.s.s combined. Why should magic be any different?

"Yes. I tested her thoroughly, to be certain. With virtually no practice, no training, she could use lines of water, earth, and air masterfully. I consulted with elders, with historians and archivists, with the heads of the other Houses. Verity demonstrated her abilities for them, and all were in agreement. She was the prophesied one. She was the Vessel."

CHAPTER 15.

"The Vessel." My voice echoed in the marble-tiled elevator. Even with everything I'd heard and seen, this seemed like a stretch.

"It's an antiquated term," Evangeline agreed. "But this prophecy-the Torrent Prophecy, as it's known, is an ancient doc.u.ment, one of the earliest in our recorded history."

"And it says Verity is a vessel?"

"Not *a vessel.' The Vessel."

"Well, that clears it all up. What is this prophecy, exactly?"

"Lucien didn't tell you? He indicated you had formed a partnership. I a.s.sumed he had already explained. . . ." She trailed off delicately, as if she didn't want to get him in trouble.

"He was a little fuzzy on the details."

"Yes, he does play his cards rather close to the chest, doesn't he?" She gave me a faintly sympathetic look, then drew a breath and began to speak in the same ponderous voice people used when reciting Psalms. " *The Vessel for Three Talents must be bound to the last of the Fire-Marked House. So joined, she shall forge the lines anew at the hour the Torrent comes, else it shall sweep through the worlds and make as dust all who are unprepared.' "

I was still gaping, trying to make sense of it, when the elevator doors opened and she ushered me through the hall to a lushly carpeted showroom. "Quite dire, you see. Without the Vessel, there is no hope of stopping it," she said as the man inside hurried to greet her.

They chattered in French for a few minutes, and she turned to me. "I need to examine a few pieces, but it won't take long. Why don't you look around for a bit? It never hurts to develop an eye for quality."

Everything in the store looked old, and expensive. After one careful stroll around the room, I decided it would be better to sit quietly in the corner until Evangeline was done. I chose a chair that looked like it wouldn't splinter into toothpicks, and settled in.

Evangeline circled the room, so intent I decided she'd forgotten me. The salesman, Fabian, trailed behind her, anxiously offering up nuggets of information. Evangeline would nod, never sparing him a glance. Finally they stopped. Fabian burst into rapid-fire French, clasping his hands and practically bouncing on his toes. Evangeline turned toward me.

"What do you think?" she asked, gesturing to a tall cabinet with elaborate carvings and faded flowers painted all over it.

"It's fine, I guess." It was rude, but musty old furniture wouldn't help me find Verity's killers. Still, years of training kicked in. "The flowers are pretty," I said dutifully.

Fabian made a tastefully disapproving sound and slanted Evangeline a dubious look. He was slight and oily, with a sharp little rodent face and a greedy light in his shrewd eyes. "This is an eighteenth-century Parisian bibliotheque desk. Its provenance is exquisite."

"Better still," Evangeline said, "this piece hides its greatest charms." She gently pressed one of the gilt-covered flowers along the back. With a faint click, the panels on either side of the rosette slid away, revealing two compartments, both filled with ribbon-wrapped stacks of yellowing paper.

"The letters," Fabian put in, "are the correspondence between the wife of a French officer and her lover, an English spy. The liaison provided England with valuable intelligence that turned the tide of the Napoleonic Wars."

"You see," Evangeline said, her ice blue eyes on mine, "even something that appears superfluous at first glance can reveal hidden depths. Treasure, if you will. I always find such things fascinating." She turned away again. "Ship it to the store, Fabian, along with the Limoges and the damasks."

Fabian nodded enthusiastically, and scurried to the back, quivering with glee.

"So, Verity's ring is like the desk? It has hidden powers?"

"I was referring to you."

"Me?" I placed a hand on the shiny black tabletop next to me. "I don't have powers. Any powers. At all."

"And yet, you can wear the ring, which suggests that there is . . . something . . . unique about you." She paused as Fabian returned with a sheaf of papers. Withdrawing a heavy, gold-tipped pen from her purse, she signed each of them without a glance.

"Aren't you going to read them?"

"Oh, Fabian knows better than to take advantage of me."

He drew himself up to his full five foot four. "We pride ourselves on our honesty."

"Just so," said Evangeline. She issued a few more directions in French, allowed Fabian to kiss her on both cheeks, and swept outside, with me trailing after.

"I told Luc before-I don't have any magic."

"Which was obvious when I invoked the concealment spell. Had you any power, it would have repelled or augmented my efforts. Nevertheless, the ring responds to you. As it did my niece. The implications are significant."

"Yeah. Darklings try to kill me every time I put it on."

She ignored me. "What's perplexing is why it responds. No magic, no talents, nothing extraordinary about you. You have no bloodlines to speak of. You're nothing like Verity."

The words stung, more than I'd expected. I'd long ago accepted Verity was the star. I had willingly, eagerly been the one on the sidelines. But I wasn't worthless. "I never said I was," I shot back.

Evangeline eyed me, frowning, and it was clear I didn't pa.s.s inspection. "Bloodlines," she murmured. "Let me see your hand."

I held it out wordlessly. The gash Luc had healed was a livid purple scar-a little less ugly every day, but it still pulled when I wiggled my fingers.

"You touched her with this hand?"

"I tried to stop the bleeding."

"Blood binds magic as few other things can, and a sacrifice carries great power. It would have been a simple matter for Verity to go Between when the Darklings attacked, but she chose to stay and protect you."

I swallowed, hard, as she continued. "It's possible, I suppose, that once Verity's blood mingled with yours, some small part of her essence could have transferred to you-enough to compel the ring to accept you in her stead."

"Except I don't have her magic." Wishing I had magic wasn't going to make it happen. Wishing never made anything happen.

"That is troublesome. However, since the ring recognizes you, there may still be hope." She didn't sound all that hopeful, though.

"Hope for what, exactly? You guys keep saying Verity was going to save the world, but how?"

"All magic flows through the ley lines," Evangeline said. "But they're fraying, more rapidly every day. We had hoped Verity could repair them and prevent the Torrent from coming to pa.s.s."

"Why are the lines failing?"

"Entropy is not exclusive to this world, I'm afraid. Magic, like anything else, can devolve into chaos unless it's properly tended."

"Verity was going to repair the lines?"

"More than repair. According to the prophecy, when the Torrent finally occurred and the raw magic was loosed, the Vessel would re-form the lines completely. It would be a staggering display of power. She would literally change the world."

"But Verity can't fulfill the prophecy. What happens to the magic?"

"It continues to destabilize. Soon it will begin to rupture at the weakest points. There are things skilled mages can do to delay the ruptures, but they are temporary fixes. Once the raw magic breaks through, it will kill Arcs with weak or unrevealed talents. Constance, for example, has not yet reached the age for her abilities to surface, should she possess them. When the Torrent comes, she will likely not survive. Naturally, any Flats in contact with a line at that time will be killed as well."

She said it dispa.s.sionately, but I felt sucker punched.

"How many?" I asked.

"Pardon me?"

"How many Flats in danger?"

"I hadn't really considered the issue. Perhaps . . . one percent of the population? Population centers tend to spring up near the most powerful lines, so the casualty rates would be higher here, lower in rural areas."

One percent. Even at St. Brigid's, that was fourteen girls. Girls I'd known for years. And Con, too? Hadn't Verity's family suffered enough? Surely the magic wouldn't be so cruel-not that it had shown any signs of mercy so far. "Why would someone want that?"

"Pardon me?"

"Why would someone want all that raw magic flying around if it's so dangerous?"

Evangeline pursed her lips. "There are a variety of reasons, most of them political. There are groups-alliances, if you will-that regulate different aspects of our society. One of them may feel that in the aftermath of the Torrent, they would emerge stronger than other alliances."

"And they'd let innocent people die?"

"Power is a seductive thing. It's the rare individual who doesn't yearn for more than their allotment."

"Yeah, but most people wouldn't destroy an entire society so they could be king of the mountain." Then again, maybe it depended on the size of the mountain.

"Most people wouldn't risk interfering with a prophecy of this magnitude, either. Fate is not something one should treat lightly. The fabric of the universe will almost always buckle in order to maintain the pattern, and the repercussions are unpredictable. Which may again explain why Verity's ring responds to you."

"I don't believe in fate."

"No? What about G.o.d's will?"