Page 84 of Mortal Things

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A long time ago, before everything came between us, Laine and I would have been able to fill the silence of a long car ride with an endless train of conversation. How do you really feel about that boy, and do you think he likes you, too, and are you still going to the study session after school, and I can’t believe you haven’t watched that new episode, and I can’t believe you haven’t read that book yet, and are you free this Saturday, let’s hang out. We would have laughed until we cried, would have belted out our favorite songs at the top of our lungs, would have blinked in bewilderment when we seemed to arrive at our destination in no time.

But here, we sit in silence, each staring out our respective windows as we head out to the wintry fringes of London. Only Charlotte talks in a steady stream, twisting around to look at us from the driver’s seat with her seatbelt pulled so far out as to be useless.

“Please keep looking at the road,” I say hoarsely to her as she veers out of our lane again.

She jerks us back into the center. “I said, I didn’t think you were still going to be in there, at Raven’s estate. When the rest of us heard the news, I thought you were dead.”

“Dead?” I ask.

Charlotte’s voice darkens. “No one knew what had happened when Raven named you as his Regent. We just felt it in our gut. I did, at least. As if something had just hollowed out the earth. I thought the inside of my body was curling up, layer by layer.” She nods at the rolling countryside. “Then I looked outside.”

For a while, we all look at the deepening night sky, cut through with hundreds of crimson threads. Lives being taken.

A wave of nausea hits me, and I lean over, closing my eyes in an attempt to stay calm. Laine turns her body slightly in my direction. Call it a testament to how well I know her, but even now, I don’t have to look at her to know that she’s opened her mouth in an attempt to say something. I keep my eyes down and wait for her words, but they never come.

After a moment, I glance over at her to see her eyes on the scenery again, following the red lines.

Miraculously, we survive the drive and pull up before a row of nondescript houses, in an unremarkable outer circle of the city. A faint drizzle has picked up, sprinkling dampness against our skin as we hurry out of the car and into one of the terraced homes.

Outside, the trees look skeletal and forlorn, deep into their winter hibernation. But every last bit of the interior of the home is blanketed with green plants. A wall of ivy, draping down from the top of the stairs along the side to the bottom, dips into a trickling rectangular pond. When I look up, the stairs ascend into a clear sky, as if there is no roof here at all.

Charlotte leads us deeper into the house, until we reach a backyard garden where Willow is waiting for us. Seated in a round circle behind her is Scarlet, who watches us with a level look, as well as a few of their Harbingers.

One of them is Katie, who rushes over to hug Charlotte before greeting us. I close my eyes and hug her too, and in this moment, my body relaxes, savoring the moment of safety.

Laine pauses in her steps, hoisting her crossbow as if she has any power against the goddess of Earth, but Willow ignores her, her gaze focused instead on me as she cups my face in her warm hands.

“Child,” she scolds softly, “you haven’t eaten in a day. Mortals need to keep up their strength. Come with me.”

How she knows this, I have no idea—I hadn’t even thought about food until she mentioned it. As if in response, my stomach lets out a loud growl, and Charlotte smiles in spite of herself.

“Come on,” she says, tugging me forward to join the others, where a spread of fruits, cheeses, and bread is laid out.

It’s strange, staring at an abundance of food when the mortal and immortal worlds seem on the brink of collapse. But Laine and I find ourselves heading toward it anyway, where we stiffly take a seat in the circle. I meet Katie’s gaze quietly, then bow my head to Scarlet, who nods her acknowledgment. But none of us utters a word.

Despite the fact that I should be famished, I find myself picking at the fruit, nibbling on a corner of cheese, forcing myself to take a bite of bread. Nausea churns in my gut.

“Where’s Raven?” I ask the group.

“He is gathering allies among the gods,” Willow says. “The divide between us all is growing, along with those who would rather fall in line with him than vouch for their autonomy.”

“Has he come for you yet?” Laine asks, looking between Willow and Scarlet.

“He will,” Scarlet replies. “It’s only a matter of time.” The glimmer of fear in her lovely eyes sends a shiver down my spine. Strange, to see such an emotion on the face of an immortal.

I put down my food and shake my head. A sense of panic is rising within me, a helplessness, and the tide of it threatens to overtake me. I am his Regent now, and my power is his to use. “The feeling that I had when I put my hand on Thorn’s arm—the feeling of unwinding that immortal thread—” I pause, unable to describe it further, unwilling to relive the moment. “He can make me do that to any of you.”

If the realization of my power frightens the goddesses, they do not acknowledge it. Willow raises her chin imperiously. “The only way he can do that,” she says, “is if he forces you to comply. You are not powerless, young Regent.”

Laine tightens her lips. “But what happens when he returns here?” she asks, her eyes skipping to me. “Does he want Rose dead? Will that give him the power of her soul?”

“Raven will never claim her soul,” Scarlet says.

“Why not?” I ask.

Charlotte shoots me an alarmed look, but somehow, the thought of facing my own death before Raven doesn’t bring me fear.