Witch And Wizard: Fire Part 23

Feffer barks her a.s.sent from the back, and we follow her out of the van and walk together up to the front steps. Wisty looks up at me, and I nod.

"This is as far as we go," I tell my parents, stopping on the porch.

Mom looks concerned. "You're not leaving already?"

"We have to, Mom," Wisty says, hugging her. "There are still things we have to do out there. Evil didn't die just because The One did."

Dad frowns. "Evil is going to be there anytime you look for it. The work will never be done. Maybe you should take some time to be yourselves, to just be kids for a bit." Wisty looks at me. We both hesitate, but we know what needs to be done.

"It feels like we stopped being kids a long time ago, Pops," I say gently. "You guys let us be kids for as long as you could, and we had an amazing childhood. But now we know who we are - what we are - and that we have a bigger responsibility."

Dad looks at Mom, who nods, pressing her lips together. I can see the anxiety on their faces, but they know we're making the right call, and they're proud, too. "All right, then. Come back and visit. We'll be here this time. I know you'll take care of each other and trust your instincts, and I hope you'll always follow your hearts."

He turns to me. "And, guys?" My father gives each of us a long look filled with conflict, and I stare at him questioningly. But in the end he just shakes his head decisively and shrugs. "Come here" is all he says, enveloping Wisty and me in a fierce hug. He grips the back of my neck. "Just be careful," he whispers.

"Always." I nod.

As we walk away from our parents once again, I know that there's so much more about this world to understand and learn. But this time, I'm ready.

Chapter 87.

Wisty.

WHIT AND I pull out of our driveway in our rusty old van that we recovered from the local N.O. OFFICIALS ONLY lot. We may be unsure of where we're going, but we're positive we'll find friends when we get there.

Our street buzzes with activity. There is still evidence of the ma.s.s destruction caused by The One - leveled buildings and unused watchtowers casting shadows on the rubble below - but in just a few days since the collapse of the New Order, you can already feel change afoot.

For one, there are people everywhere. Not soldiers in black boots waving automatic rifles but everyday citizens emerging from behind their blackened windows and repairing their collapsed porches. No longer looking at their neighbors from behind a veil of suspicion. Letting down their cloaks of fear inch by inch.

And as we wave good-bye to Mom and Dad, knowing they'll still be here when we get back, knowing they're not in danger, and knowing how proud they are of their two determined children who just happen to be a witch and a wizard, it feels incredible to roll down the windows, rock out hard to the music blasting on the Free Youth Radio, and breathe in the just-a-little-bit-cleaner air, saturated with a new sense of hope.

Whit turns down the radio and looks at me, all seriousness. "So what's next, Wist? The Prophecies said that we're supposed to lead a new generation, that kids will rule the world "

I nod, feeling not for the first time the crushing responsibility that has been placed on our shoulders. We dealt with The One, and now we're supposed to just lead the whole world?

Whit continues, "What do you think that means for us now? There are all these former New Order zombies walking around dazed, like they don't know what their purpose in life is without The One. If we're not careful, all these drifters are going to turn to anarchic violence."

Though the scenario is completely feasible, I'm still on an optimistic high. For once, Wisty the cynic is preaching about how great things are.

"You're looking at this all wrong, though, Whit. All these people being confused and directionless isn't a bad thing. It leaves the door wide open for the Resistance to get organized, focused, and strong."

"You mean take advantage of the situation like The One did."

I give Whit an eye roll that only a little sister can perfect.

"Except we're not The One and we don't have an evil agenda. This is a chance to step up and rehabilitate the land, and to make the people count."

Whit nods and stares out at the people on the streets coming together, working to help their neighbors. I smile at a group of children playing in an alley. No N.O. uniforms. No guns. Almost no remnants of the Blood Plague.

"Okay but, Wisty, we really do need more of a plan here if we're going to get anything done. What does 'rehabilitating the land and making the people count' mean for us today? What's the first step? How do we make this happen?"

My brother, always the practical one.

I shrug. "Maybe it's through music," I suggest, cranking the radio back up. Whit sighs as I bang my head to the beat, but he's grinning, too.

"I think Wisty makes a good point," Byron pipes up out of nowhere from the backseat. I nearly jump out of my skin, and Whit swerves the van.

"Byron! What the -?" I smack his arm, but Swain just keeps right on inserting his unsolicited opinion as if he's been part of the conversation all along.

"Historically, music has been really successful in uniting groups of people for a common cause. And remember how many kids came out in support of the Resistance at the Stockwood Music Festival? It was incredible."

His voice takes on a dreamy tone, and I know he's thinking about the electric moment when my power flowed through him and we rocked a stadium packed full of screaming fans. Best night of my life. I'm getting chills thinking of it, too.

But as usual my annoyance with Byron Swain seems to override any other feeling. If he's in the van now, it means he was in here before with Mom and Dad, too.

"You were here the whole time?" I demand. "You spied on our family's most intimate moment?"

Byron nods, and without even hesitating, I zap him right back into weasel form.

"Aw, come on, Wist," the critter squeaks at me, perched on the back of my seat. "You know I only did it because I wanted to get closer to you, learn more about your crazy witchy ways."

"Yeah, keep talking, Byron. Hope you're looking forward to a diet of birds' eggs and mice, because you're going to be a weasel for a very long time."

The weasel makes some pathetic squeaking noises, and I start to feel bad for him. His little twitching nose tugs at my heartstrings. I change him back on a whim.

"Thanks," he whispers in my ear, "but I was serious about just wanting to get close to you, Wisty."

Then, before I know what's happening, awkward, annoying, insufferable Byron Weasel Swain leans in for the most tender, electric kiss I could never have even imagined - especially coming from him.

Whit gives a low whistle.

My head spins, my stomach flips, and my heart surges. This can't be good.

"Now, that," I say, dazed, when he finally pulls back, "does not bode well for your future."

Chapter 88.

Whit.

THE ONE MAY be gone and the New Order may be mostly wiped out, but there is still so much to do.

I turn off the ignition, and Wisty, Byron, Emmet, and Sasha leap out of the van, stretching their legs.

Byron's got his arm around Wisty's waist, and Sasha's giving them both a hard time about it. Wisty's blushing a deep crimson, but I notice she doesn't shrug away from Byron's touch. She looks like she's having fun. She looks happier than I've seen her since the New Order came and turned everything upside down.

Janine turns to me from the front pa.s.senger seat. "By the way, I don't think I've even had a chance to say thank you, for saving my life and healing me back in the Shadowland."

I grin. "We were just going to ditch you back by the river, but I guess I just kinda like having you around."

She laughs, then looks out the window at the scene awaiting us. "You ready?" she asks, squeezing my hand. I take a deep breath and squeeze back.

"More ready than I've ever been," I say, and we follow the others outside.

The building is not as I remember it. The front door has been replaced, the holes have been patched up, and people are high on ladders, working to rebuild the blown-out upper floors.

Holiday lights sparkle across the balcony, and shiny ornaments wink from windows. The snow globe sits in a place of honor on the porch.

The Needermans peer out from their doorway. Not one looks to the sky for bombs. Their clothes aren't new, but they're newer. Their hope isn't totally restored, but it's being patched up. And they'll do fine. They'll persevere, and thrive. Because that is what survivors do every day of their lives.

Pearl Marie wriggles out from behind Mama May and runs over to us, a goofy smile on her face. She leaps into my arms and throws her hands around my neck.

"You did what you said you would," she marvels. "You actually got us free, just like you promised. That's unbelievable."

"You expected any less, kid? I'm a scary witch," says Wisty, wiggling her fingers. She playfully jabs me in the ribs. "And Whit is a wise old wizard."

I can't help grinning at my kid sister. "See, Pearl Marie? Didn't we tell you we'd come back? Didn't I promise?"

Pearl nods and fixes me with her wide gray eyes, the eyes of a seven-year-old far too jaded for her years but moving tentatively toward trust in the good of the world.

I've never been more relieved to be able to keep a promise.

As we walk through the streets, busy with new life, I get it now. There are no endings, and there are no fairy tales. But the pages keep being written. Time soldiers on.

Who knows if our darkest days are behind us? Or if The One will be the only person to bring them? All I know is, it was all real, every moment.

I can close the book on this part of our history. I can start a new chapter, but it doesn't matter.

Because now, the magic is everywhere.

TRADITIONS AND THE FIGUREHEADS THEREOF WHO PLACE A DEITY ABOVE THE ONE WHO IS THE ONE.

as Outlawed by The One Who Manages Traditions, Customs, Rituals, Practices, And Beliefs.

Accem (noun, proper):.

Millions of people in a pious group made a point to visit this ancient city at least once in their lifetime and to pray, neck-to-floor, five times daily toward its geographic location. The New Order has subsequently banned all compa.s.ses so that the position of the previously holy city cannot be traced.

free will (noun):.

A delusional idea that humans are in control of their own destiny and not subject to the benevolent rule of The One Who Is The One. Because of the popularity of this disgraceful way of thinking among unenlightened previous generations, citizens today need constant reminders that submission to the New Order is the One true way.

miracles (noun):.

Coincidental events that promote excitement and/or belief in false powers or deities higher than The One Who Is The One. All such unexplained events must be deleted from memory straightaway.

Mopus Day (noun, proper):.

An ancient tradition that called for the most strict and sterile lifestyle, down to its followers' modest garments and rigid schedule. The New Order found its obstinate worship of a deity other than The One Who Is The One objectionable, and the movement was disbanded, but many of its ascetic traditions have been implemented into everyday life at the Brave New World Center.

pray (verb):.

The curious act of acknowledging - and attempting to talk to - a being reported to rank higher than The One Who Is The One. Anyone caught with hands folded together or bowed at the waist on the floor, without reference to The One, will be subject to the most gruesome punishment possible.

Prophecies (noun):.

Chantable verses that claim to tell the future, often in unlistenable and unlawful poetry form. Prophecies are fabricated nonsense created by rebellious teenagers looking to cause mayhem. It is against the law for such utterances to be pa.s.sed on in any form, regardless of how ominous they may sound or how clever their rhyme scheme.

The Reformed Nation (noun, proper):.

When known Resistance sympathizer Barton Ruthmer posted an excessive list of complaints against the regime on the front door to the New Order palace compound, he was promptly executed. His remaining followers, should there be any left, will be, too.

(MORE) ESPECIALLY OFFENSIVE BOOKS THAT HAVE BEEN BANNED.

as Dictated by The One Who Bans Books.

THE ADVENTURES OF YINGYING: A silly, young self-employed detective with absurd hair travels the world with his small dog and forces his way into situations where his presence is unwanted. This book's accounts of a common citizen's brazen attempts to take the law into his own hands were loathsome, and the series frequently disregarded the infallible scrutiny involved in pa.s.sing pa.s.sport checkpoints. It has been banned from bookshelves to avoid any more fantastical errors.

BACKWARD STORIES FROM RESISTANCE SCHOOL: Twenty chapters profile twenty outlandish cla.s.smates in a traitorous school that lectures students about fighting the New Order regime, and recounts the bloopers of failed missions along the way. Using this treacherous book as evidence, N.O. soldiers located the school and destroyed it.

THE MYSTERIOUS DERELICT CIVILIZATION: A group of four children run about the ruins of an ancient office building once belonging to a corporation called Apfel, searching for clues about the rise and fall of its domineering yet completely shrouded empire. After the book's publication, the author was gently reminded that there are perfectly good reasons why history has been erased, and such curiosity should be nipped in the bud.

STEVE PLYMOUTH: An adventure about an overly emotional, ineffectual young New Order recruit who must kill the ex-boyfriends of the young New Orderling of his dreams before they can be together. Although a solid take on the need for toughening up young recruits, the plot relied too much on romance and popular culture; the book is therefore banned.

THE SHADOWICK CHRONICLES: Twin boys move into their great-aunt's Victorian home in what the previously uninformed author claims to be the Shadowland (a mythical location that the New Order has gone to great lengths to prove does not exist). NOTE: The author of The Shado-wick Chronicles has since been convincingly reinformed of the imaginary nature of "the Shadowland."

A CRINKLE IN THE MIND: Three siblings develop so-called magical powers that allow them to bend time. They use this power to escape the current government and explore new and far inferior worlds. If these children were not fictional, they would already be on their way to one of the New Order's many reformatories for confused and dangerous citizens.

THE SUSIE DARKSHACK SERIES: A woman in her twenties lives in a small town where her peers are humans and demons (made-up beings very likely created by would-be witches and wizards to terrify the respectable citizens of the New Order). She struggles to find a balance between which "demons" she should leave alive and well for her social life, and which she should kill off to maintain her safety. The obvious answer is that all manifestations of fictional beings should be destroyed without delay.

PROHIBITED WEBSITES MEANT FOR SUBTERFUGE.

as Proclaimed by The One Who Surfs The Cybers.p.a.ce.

Critter: A virtually incomprehensible online system of short, cryptic messages that helped Resistance fighters exchange hazardous information with one another. New Order efforts to eliminate this exceedingly criminal means of communication were swift and absolute.

Juggle: This search engine was invented by a young rebel who narcissistically believed she could create a record of every piece of illegal, duplicitous, and highly dangerous information on the Internet. WARNING: This young woman is still at large and attempting to supply the good citizens of the New Order with so-called free-speech doc.u.ments that contain false propaganda against The One and your ill.u.s.trious government. A reward is offered for her capture.