Witch And Wizard: Fire Part 9

"That was Dad's favorite song," he says, breathless.

"Yeah." I sigh, eyeing one of Mrs. H.'s guitars longingly. "I really wish that he'd lived to see me rock the socks off the New Order."

"Had lived?" Mrs. Highsmith raises an eyebrow. "Oh, children, you didn't really believe they were dead, did you?"

Tears well in my eyes instantaneously. The hoods. The crowd. The smoke.

The awful smoke.

"What do you mean?" I demand. "Are you claiming they're alive?"

"Well, they're alive for now," the old witch says. "Barely alive. Alive, as in struggling to breathe air in and out. As yet unextinguished, if you will."

"Wisty, don't believe her," Whit says, jaw set. "I saw it with my own eyes. I watched them get executed."

Mrs. Highsmith laughs her musical laugh, and it looks like Whit might actually strangle her.

"But, darlings," she says lightly, gesturing toward the shiny surface of the cooking pot, "see for yourselves."

My brother hangs back, unbelieving, but I'm unable to stop myself from bolting forward. At first I can't see through the salty tears, but I rub at my eyes, and there, on the lid, are two bent figures with sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, standing near water.

Mom and Dad.

Alive!

Chapter 33.

Whit A LITTLE CRY escapes Wisty's mouth, and I rush forward to join my sister.

My parents seem to be standing near a river, waiting with a lot of other people. They are emaciated and as pale as paper.

"Mom!" I shout. "Dad!" Their faces waver like an image caught in steam.

Wisty looks at me, her eyes pleading. "What are they doing there? Those don't look like New Order soldiers -"

"Dad, where's the river? Tell us where you are!" He doesn't answer, so I turn to Mrs. H. "Is it in the capital? Do you know how to get there?"

"How do we find you?" Wisty asks, her hands gripping the sides of the lid.

Mrs. Highsmith's kind eyes look at Wisty, then at me. "The river is in the Shadowland, of course," she says gently. "Where else would it be, lambs? That's where the river has always been, where people cross over to the other side."

I grab Wisty's arm, ignoring Mrs. H.'s ethereal BS for the moment. "We can get there. We just have to find a portal to the Shadowland, and we can bring them back. I don't care about the risks, I don't even Wist?" She isn't listening to me, and I follow her eyes back to the image of our parents and see why.

Mom's eyes are looking right into hers, and she's shaking her head in terror. "Stay away!" her lips mouth at us in her gaunt face. "Promise not to come here!" she wails. "You. Must. Not. Come."

Dad steps behind her and puts one hand in the air like a stop sign. He looks about a hundred years old, and the gesture seems to zap the last of his energy, but his eyes are fierce as they lock with mine. "I forbid it," he says, and suddenly I feel tiny, like I'm four years old again and asking to ride our neighbor's bike. Dad's eyes blaze inside his gray face, and just when I'm about to cry out to him, my parents disappear.

"No!" I shout. "Wait!" But the image has vanished completely, and the lid reflects my own horrified face in its place .

Wisty's voice comes out in a whisper. "They're alive. And they want us to just do nothing?" I can see she's close to losing it.

"Mrs. Highsmith" - I turn to the old witch, suddenly angry at her for not giving us the guidance she'd promised -"you think I care what they said about staying away? We're obviously going there. Will you help us find the portal, or are we on our own?"

Mrs. H. looks like she's got a million other secrets she'll never reveal. "There will come a time in your lives, Whitford and Wisteria, when you have to make your own decisions, when you have to go your own way, when you have to disobey the injunctions of your parents." She peers into our faces, eyes bright.

"I'm thrilled you understand that that time is now."

Chapter 34.

Wisty "NOW EAT UP, children, I've a plan."

Mrs. H. puts two steaming bowls of the gruel in front of us. It looks and smells like cat food, but whatever. Whit eats a spoonful and then pushes the rest of the bowl away while trying not to make a puke face. I think I'll pa.s.s on mine. We're not here for the food anyway.

"Listen very closely, dears. If not followed explicitly, this plan could easily result in your deaths."

Well. At least she's being straight with us.

"Whitford, I understand that you have experience in the depths of the Shadowland." Whit nods, and Mrs. H.'s eyes bore into him.

"Look ahead. Your vision will serve you well, young man, as you journey to this foul place of writhing, hungry spirits. The labyrinth will deceive you, but you must navigate the depths of the soul to find your parents. Follow the animals to the river, and love will meet you there."

Whatever that means.

Whit looks like he doesn't totally speak Mrs. H.'s language of soul riddles, but he nods solemnly anyway.

I, on the other hand, am already getting annoyed. Our parents are out there in some Shadowland abyss, and I'm sorry, but I don't have time to learn about the meaning of life before we find them.

Still, when Mrs. H. turns to me, I find I'm holding my breath. "And you, Wisteria, have the greatest task of all. I'm afraid your trip will be arduous, your task mammoth, and the odds overwhelmingly stacked against you."

She pauses meaningfully, and I lean forward. "Anything," I say. "I'll do it." Now that I know they're alive, every fiber of my being aches to see Mom and Dad.

Mrs. H. beams at me. "It is you, and you alone, who must deal with The One Who Is The One. Now."

Wait, what? My spoon clatters to the floor. The One, as in the all-powerful One who's been trying to track us down and skewer us for months?

"You're not serious." I stare at her in horror, my jaw hanging open like a guppy's.

Mrs. H. nods expectantly.

"Our parents are on the verge of death, here," I protest, incredulous. "And while Whit gets to go traipsing after them in the Shadowland - which I have experience in, too, by the way - I'm supposed to just what? Knock on the door of the most powerful being in the Overworld and then 'deal with' him?" I'm shouting now.

Mrs. Highsmith looks me over with quiet disapproval, and then she says something totally whackjob: "Tell me, Wisteria, do you remember anything, anything at all, from your Biology 101 cla.s.s? How about physics? Chemistry? No? I should have expected as much from a truant."

I shudder involuntarily at the familiar words. It's practically the exact same thing The One said to me back at his pad, forever-and-a-day ago, when I was supposed to be proving myself as a witch. Mrs. Highsmith c.o.c.ks an eyebrow, and I'm speechless.

Just what exactly is going on here?

I glare at her. "Look, if you want to focus on the past, fine. In the past, we've seen The One control water and air and the earth. We've watched him empty oceans, whip up tornadoes, and split open the ground with a flick of his pinky finger. How is anyone supposed to fight that?"

Mrs. H. nods and holds my face in her hands, and I feel like I'm about five years old. "But what he doesn't have is your fire, Wisty, your energy, your electricity. He may control the earth, but he doesn't control the people on it. At least not in their thoughts. Not yet. But if what The One believes is true, if your powers extend to the electrical impulses of the brain, he'll use you to control not only the government of the Overworld but the actual minds of all humanity, in every dimension."

I frown, uncertain what to make of this. Whit's kneading his knuckles into his forehead, deep in thought.

"Don't you understand the implications of your power, darling? If The One Who Is The One succeeds, it will be the end of the last shred of free will any of us has left. It will be the end of resistance, of creativity, even hope. It will be the end of everything."

"Okay." I sigh, feeling like a very heavy chain has just been placed around my neck. "But what am I actually supposed to do to beat The One? My so-called Gift feels like this thing that's so much bigger than me, something I can't even totally control, and I'm not even sure what it's for."

Mrs. H. considers her answer. "The Gift is certainly not to be used to be G.o.d. Only to prevent others from trying to be G.o.d." I nod, waiting for a directive, but Mrs. H. shakes her head. "I can't tell you exactly how to use these tremendous Gifts you've been given," she says gravely. "To grow and to understand the Prophecy, you must learn to master them on your own."

I sigh, the gravity of this situation settling in my gut.

I'm supposed to infiltrate a heavily guarded compound and pick a fight with the most powerful being the world has ever seen, and Whit is supposed to go stumbling through the Shadowland, where people either are eaten by the voracious Lost Ones or get so lost in the haze that their minds turn to gruel. All because of a Prophecy someone saw written on a wall. Because, for some reason, they all believe in us, a truant and a foolball star.

I look at Whit, the one person I can always count on, who has been with me through every terrible loss, every struggle, every victory. Are we really going to do this?

Whit nods, his eyes bright with hope, and I squeeze his hand, suppressing a feeling of panic. Of course we are.

Besides our lives, what else have we got to lose?

Chapter 35.

Whit THE SHADOWLAND IS a labyrinth of despair.

It's a knot of wrong turns, a blanket of fog weakening your resolve, a stench of lost souls who'll do anything to claw their way out of this purgatory. The Shadowland is the taste of fear in your mouth urging you forward, deeper into the maze, farther from any connection to time, sanity, or the living.

But the Shadowland is also Celia, the girl I loved and lost, a beautiful soul known in this purgatory as a Half-light, whose life was taken too early, whom I'd do anything to get back. And now it's my parents, waiting for me by a river in the depths of its secrets.

So, with a c.o.c.ktail of emotions coursing through me, I'm finally on my way there.

But first I have to get to the portal - the only one Mrs. H. is sure is still in operation. It's deep in an area of the capital I've never been through before. I walk briskly, and soon the elegant white stone buildings give way to a concrete no-man's-land full of heavily guarded factories belching thick, white steam into the still air.

I turn down a narrow alleyway, and shadows shift as men bundled in rags move away from me in the dark. I stand straighter, trying to make the most of my big frame.

I walk beside the concrete wall, barbed wire snarling along the top, twelve feet up. A red sign tacked to it reads TESTING FACILITY - KEEP OUT. Two exhausted-looking soldiers are keeping watch, but one appears more concerned with rolling a cigarette. The security measures almost seem ridiculous anyway; the rumors of what goes on in The One's experimental labs are more than enough to keep out the curious.

Except vengeful wizards, I guess.

Though these guys seem like slackers, I see the bra.s.s N.O.P.E. pin of honor on the soldiers' uniforms, meaning that they're actually commandos in the New Order Portal Elite squad (the existence of which the N.O. vehemently denies, of course). They're Curves, drafted to enter the Underworld and report back, since The One is officially a Straight and Narrow who can't travel between the worlds himself.

Trained wolves snarl at the N.O.P.E. soldiers' feet, teeth bared and ready to snap.

I picture my parents' wan faces, Dad's forbidding hand, and the fear in Mom's eyes. Something was going on there at the river, something they didn't want me to see. But nothing - not Dad, not The One, not even a pack of wolves - is going to keep me from the Shadowland.

It's the last place in the universe any sane person would want to be, but that terrifying land of stolen memory and shortened lives holds Celia, my parents, and everything I've lost.

For better or worse, the Shadowland holds my destiny.

Chapter 36.

Whit WHEN YOU'RE BACKED into a corner, sometimes the only thing to do is the stupidest thing you can think of.

To that effect, without so much as a disguise to help me out, I march up to the New Order thugs slouching against the dirty concrete. "Confidence is key," Dad always used to say. "You can do almost anything if you believe you can."

And, actually, it kind of works for a second. I don't betray any motive, and it's as if the guards have forgotten that they're supposed to be guarding the place. They just look at me with bored expressions. For a minute I think I'm actually going to get away with strolling right past them, but unfortunately the wolves are a bit more on the ball.

The death dogs snarl and start to tug at their chains, mouths foaming at me in hunger and hatred. This perks the soldiers right up, and they scramble to get their weapons pointed at me.

The youngest one tries to be authoritative. "No one goes in or out, bub," he says, his gun leveled between my eyes. "Entry is strictly forbidden."

"I've been sent by The One Who Is The One," I hear my voice telling them calmly before I know what I'm saying. The older, bald one looks at me uncertainly and mutters something to his comrade, and I try not to let my hands shake in front of the h.e.l.l beasts, who probably have built-in lie detectors or something. "I have an official letter," I continue boldly.

One of the guards nods and holds out a hand expectantly. Great. I do not, in fact, have an official letter. All I have is a crumpled-up slip of paper with Mrs. Highsmith's directions to the portal on it, but I pull the pathetic thing out of my pocket anyway and thrust it at him.

The older one takes the proffered letter and unfolds it, then barks, "What's this? It's just a piece of paper with street names. Arrest -"

Before the guy can get the rest of the words out, I'm off. This is what I've trained for. This is what I was made for - saving my parents. My feet fly beneath me, faster than I've ever run before, carrying me straight at that heavy wooden door guarding the portal.

And as I hear the wolves snapping at my heels, as I sense the guards taking aim with their fingers quivering on the triggers, I hope, I pray, that I'm still a Curve, that my body will bend into the other dimension, that I'll melt through this solid door into the Shadowland and into the arms of Celia, and my parents, and everyone who is counting on me to be a hero this last time. I'm praying that I don't just smash into that oak and get arrested.

Because after all I've been through, after all Mom and Dad have been through, that would seriously suck.

I'm flying, leaping, flailing forward with one final heave, holding my breath, and the last thing I feel is a tremendous crack as if my head's exploding.