Chapter Seventeen
The alley outside the inn was narrow. The cobblestones were cracked and broken. A white cat nosing in a tipped-over trashcan hissed at me as I passed on my way to the road. A noise sounded behind me, and I glanced back. The cat was following me.
“Go home,” I told it and continued on my way.
Mantello was alive with people rushing across the streets. Carts pushed by men and women or pulled by horses and goats bumped over the uneven stones in the road. It was like walking back in time.
There were no vehicles in the Mystik world. The Wizard Council had voted to ban them. They didn’t want their air polluted by them like in the human world. But the villages were small and walking made more sense anyway.
The small Tuscany-like village was beautiful with all its different-colored stucco buildings, cobbled roads, and flowerpots stuffed with beautiful flowers. I kept my head down, the hood blocking my face, and went three blocks up, then four right, and stopped in front of the bookstore. The sign above the door read, Libreria. I’d been here before when Bastien brought Nick and me to Mantello for Toad’s trial. Acting as nonchalant as I could, I sneaked a view of the bench.
A woman dressed in black with silver streaking her black hair waved.
I glanced behind me then back at her, pointing to my chest. Me? I mouthed.
She nodded. The woman was beautiful and resembled Sophie Loren, the actor from all those old movies Nana loved to watch.
Okay. It must be her.
“Hello,” I said approaching her. “Are you Mardiana Acardi?”
“I am. Now, I’m going to point at the bakery.” She did. “Go inside. Buy yourself a pastry and coffee. Then sit on the bench beside me. And act as if you aren’t talking to me.”
“Okay.”
“And remove your hood,” she said. “You look more suspicious with it on. Only wear it if it rains.”
I slipped off my hood and headed for the bakery. The smells inside were delicious, and I wanted to buy everything behind the display case. I chose a frosted pastry and a buttered coffee at the suggestion of the woman serving me.
The sky darkened as I crossed the street and sat on the bench next to Mardiana.
“I suppose you were told that I come here every morning.”
“Yes,” I said, took a sip of the coffee, and wrinkled my nose. It wasn’t bad, but I missed the sweetness of my caramel lattes.
The white cat from the alley sat in front of Mardiana. “You’ve done great, Angel Kitty. Come rest.” She patted her lap. The cat jumped and curled up on her black skirt.
“You had her following me?” I asked.
Her warm brown eyes were fixed on the bookstore. “Naturally, she’s my familiar. My spirit friends told me you were coming.”
“You’re a witch?” I took a bite of the pastry. The sweet goodness melted on my tongue and made up for the bland coffee.
She petted Angel Kitty, which was such a silly name to give a cat. “My granddaughter named her. It made her proud to have the honor.”
“So you’re intuitive?”
A thin-lipped smile wrinkled the corners of her mouth. “Actually, I am an enchantress. We have familiars just as witches do. Athela speaks to me, as well. I’ve known for years you’d come seeking me, even before you were born. I am Gian’s cousin. The oldest living heir of the First Wizard, Galante.”
Gian’s cousin. Does she know he’s dead?
“I do know,” she said. “He gave his life for you. For what you mean to both worlds. And you wonder if he cared that you were his great-granddaughter. I can assure you he was very proud and filled with much love for you. Wizards from his generation were taught never to show their emotions. But know I tell the truth.”
The look on Gian’s face before Conemar had killed him played across my mind. His peaceful eyes stared at me as if to tell me he’d accepted his fate. He had made the ultimate sacrifice for me, for his belief in what I could do for both worlds. Mardiana saying he was proud of me filled me with resolve. I would make sure he hadn’t died for nothing. I might not win, but it wouldn’t be for giving up.
“Good girl.” Her slender, wrinkled hand covered mine resting on my lap. “Now, I believe you need something of mine. Turn your hand over.” I did as she asked and she dropped a small silver container on my palm. “What you need is inside.”
I leaned over, pretended to fix my boot, and stuffed the container next to the leather canister.
“Don’t you wonder why I sit here every day?”
“I’m guessing I should?” I straightened. “You weren’t just waiting for me all this time, right?”
“Correct. I haven’t been waiting for you,” she said, nudging the cat off her lap before standing.
I reached my hand down to pet the white furry creature, and she hissed at me, again. Angel? More like Devil Kitty.
“Mantello is the city of Gian’s birth,” she said. “That bookstore there holds many works by him, including one that may have great interest for you. One you should never let out of your sight.”
“I won’t.”
Mardiana stared down at me. “Do not wait for the two young men you’re traveling with to return to Mantello. You must go to Tearmann straightaway. There’s a storm heading for the haven. You won’t want to miss your opportunity to retrieve what you need there.” She bowed her head slightly. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, cousin. May Agnes guide you in your travels.”
I kept my eyes on the bookstore as Mardiana walked off, only sneaking a glance when the sound of her heels softened with distance. Angel Kitty kept close to Mardiana’s heels as she clipped down the road.
Does she mean an actual storm or metaphoric one? Whichever one she meant, I decided to go with her warning. Tearmann was an ally. I’d be safe there.
After wiping the frosting from my hands and face, I threw my trash in a fancy nearby can.
A cart, pulled by a brown horse with white hoofs, bumped over the road. I waited for it to pass before crossing over to the bookstore. Everything in the haven was quaint and old-world feeling. I tugged the door open.
“Buongiorno,” said the same scholarly looking young man with glasses and a bright smile from the last time I was there.
“Morning,” I said and leafed through a stack of magazines on a table.
“English?”
“Sì.”
He straightened his glasses. “Please to tell me if you’re in need of assistenza.”
Déjà vu. I could’ve sworn we’d had the same exact exchange when I was here before.
“Grazie,” I said.
It would be a lot easier to find Gian’s books if I asked him for their location, but I didn’t know if it would raise suspicion. And I didn’t know who in Mantello had seen my face and knew that the Wizard Council had a warrant, or whatever they called it in the Mystik world, out for me.
My finger bounced across the spines of books as I searched the shelves for Gian’s name. I finally came across them in the special studies area. There were a few I’d already read, one about Mystik creatures and another on charms and spells. I paused on one titled My Magnificent Journeys. I removed it from the shelf and flipped through the pages, leafing through the photographs until I came to it. A picture of three large mountains capped with snow.
I recalled Gian’s message. You shall find the entry into a mountainous, frozen land. The Four sleeps under the tallest peak…
I ran my fingers across the photograph, and it tugged at my fingers. I’d found it. Mardiana came here every day, sat on that bench from the time the bookstore opened until it closed. She was here to watch over the book. The entry to where the Tetrad was caged was in its pages. Until today. Her job was done. It was now my turn to protect it. I grabbed another book of Gian’s, not wanting the one containing the Tetrad’s prison to stand out, and went to the counter.
“Just the two?” the man asked in his broken English.
I handed him a gold coin. “Yes, please.”
His gaze went to the window. “Signora Acardi never leaves the bench until the sun lowers past the buildings. Strange, no?”
It didn’t seem like he was talking to me so I stayed quiet.
“Buona giornata.” He handed me a few silver coins in various sizes, his eyes still watching the window.
I hugged the books to my chest and rushed outside, worried that he’d look closer at me. My boots pounded against the cobblestones as I hurried down the road.
One you should never let out of your sight. Mardiana’s warning went off in my head. I had to keep Gian’s book with me.
Bags in the window of a store stopped me, and I went inside. With my head down, I grabbed a satchel with long straps, paid the girl operating the register, and tucked Gian’s books inside.
Mardiana had told me not to wait. But it was early. Bastien and Edgar wouldn’t be back until late that night or in the morning. I decided to listen to her and go to Tearmann. They were allies. There hadn’t been an uprising there like in Santara. Besides, I was shielded. I could sneak in and out without being noticed.
It took me nearly an hour to find the outbuilding with the tunnel leading to the Riccardiana Library in Florence, Italy. I’d been there before, but I was following Bastien and hadn’t paid attention to where we were going. I kept running into dead ends until I noticed the stucco structure just down the hill from the haven.
The store windows with their displays and decorations were enticing. I passed a costume shop with a long blond wig sitting on a porcelain head. The door stuck a little, and I tugged it open. A round woman dressed in a black dress and wearing a red cape took a gold coin for the wig and handed me a small silver one. She let me put it on in front of the mirror.
I didn’t look too bad as a blonde. It actually seemed like real hair—long with a little wave. Hopefully, no one would recognize me.
“Bellissimo,” the woman said.
“Grazie,” I said and exited the shop. The hill was steep, and my steps were fast on the way to the outbuilding.
I thumped down the stairs to the tunnel. It was narrow, just like most of them were, with a series of stone steps going up and down and twisting left to right. The light from my globe bounced across the rock walls. As I neared the end, there was a line of people. I held tight to the straps of the bag holding Gian’s books.
They’re inspecting people. Panic fluttered in my chest, and I clenched the cloak closed to hide my Sentinel gear underneath. I turned to go back the way I’d come, but was stopped by an older couple’s approach. They looked like parents who had just walked out of a Norman Rockwell painting, the man in his suit and the woman in a flowery dress. The man studied my face before I whirled back around.
“The libraries are crowded,” the woman said. “It seems quite unnecessary to make everyone return to the place of their births to reregister.”
With every movement of the line, my heart stopped, and I caught my breath. I should have stayed in Mantello as Bastien and Edgar told me. I was second in line, and my stomach clenched.
“Next,” said a guard with a hawkish nose and barrels for arms.
The man in front of me stepped up to the guard.
“Identification,” the guard said holding out his hand.
Identification? I didn’t have any. The panic in my chest nosedived to my gut.
The man held up a metal card. The guard studied it and then nodded the man through.
I approached the guard, playing in my head all the scenarios on how to get out of this.
“What’s in the bag?” he asked.
“Books,” I said in a soft, timid tone. He motioned for me to open the bag. I did and he searched inside.
Okay. There’re two guards. I’d have to use my globes.
“Identification,” he said.
“Just a second.” I squatted, put my bag on the floor, and pretended to search inside.
I opened my hand by my side and whispered, “Accendere la stun.” The power of the globe tugged at my palm. Leaping to my feet, I slammed the purple sphere against his shoulder. It spread across his body, encasing him in a purple glow.
A sharp intake of breath came from the woman behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder. “Make sure to call someone to remove the stun, or he’ll run out of air and die. Okay?”
His eyes wide, the older man nodded.
I darted through the entrance, creating another stun globe and hurling it at the other guard pacing the library. It smacked him the chest, and he fell to the floor like a chopped down tree.
The Riccardiana Library’s warm woodwork and gold accents flashed in my peripheral vision as I dashed for the main reading room. My boots clacking against the checkered tiles resounded against the fresco ceiling. Moonlight came in through the tall window, casting shadows over the bookcases.
I called for the gateway book and spun around listening for it. Above the fresco was a circular window, the frame resembling a lemon slice. Though it was day in the havens, it was nighttime in Florence. Tables were lined up in the center of the room, gold-painted chairs with pink cushions pushed up against them.
The book wasn’t chained to anything. It floated to me and I flipped to the photograph of the Trinity College library in Dublin.
“Aprire La Porta.” I said the charm and jumped into the book, an alarm sounding as I disappeared into the gateway.
I searched the Long Room in the Trinity library for the spiral staircase Jaran had said led to Tearmann haven. The arched ceiling soaring overhead made me feel small. I walked past the display of the Book of Kells, which was an illuminated manuscript of the Christian Gospels created around 800 AD. Jaran would be impressed that I remembered what he had told me.
Finally, I found the spiral staircase tucked away in a tiny alcove surrounded by bookcases and beside a bust of Shakespeare. I stepped onto the first stair and clutched the black rod iron banister swirling up to the top.
Admit the pure. That’s what the charm to open the doorways into the havens meant. It was spelled to let only those without evil intentions into the haven. But I wondered if it really worked, because some of the wizards on the council weren’t playing nice. Could they have altered the charm? Most likely.
I took a deep breath and said, “Ammettere il pura.”
The rod iron shook in my grasp, the floor slid aside, and the staircase spun down. My grasp tightened. It landed with a bang, and I ended up in a rock tunnel, one that was surprisingly empty. I stepped off, and the staircase returned to the library above, the floor shutting me inside the tunnel.
“Okay, whatever happens, there better not be a flood.” I removed the itchy wig and shoved it into my bag.
Water leaked from the arched ceiling and plunked into puddles forming on the uneven stone floor. The tunnel walls were covered in beautiful graffiti art of wizards, Mystik creatures, and unusual landscapes. I stopped when I spotted one of me, a sense of pride swelling inside. Someone had actually painted me. By the details, whoever it was took a lot of time doing it. I looked fierce in my Sentinel gear with my pink battle globe, the wind blowing back my ponytail.
I bent and dipped my finger in the mud where a stone in the ground was missing. With the tip of my finger, I drew a hairline scar across my cheek. I’d earn the scar and was proud of it because it was a badge of survival. I wiped my finger on my pants and continued down the tunnel.
The passage dipped and rose until it came to a series of steps carved out of the rock, twisting down and then spiraling up. I had to duck to avoid hitting my head on the low arches, and I almost felt dizzy with all the turns. The final stairs were so long, I had to stop several times to catch my breath. The steps stopped at a heavy wooden door that I had to use all my weight to push open.
Bright light blinded me, and I squinted until my eyes got used to it. As my focus cleared, I caught glimpses of lush green grass with thousands of yellow cup-shaped flowers. A swarm of colorful humming birds rushed by me. Tall trees drooped with red and purple fruit.
“Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” I recited, and laughed. “Now all I need are ruby slippers.”
“You always be talking to yourself like that?” a grumpy sounding male voice said from somewhere nearby.
The accent and syntax reminded me of Carrig.
I whirled around. “Where are you? Better yet, who are you?”
A guy a little bit older than me, with dark red hair and bushy brows of the same color, came out from behind a tree carrying a basket full of the red and purple fruit. He dropped the basket, the fruit tumbling and disappearing into the long grass.
“Be it you?” he asked, gaping.
I raised an eyebrow. “Last I checked, it was me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Who do you think I am?” I asked.
“Gianna,” he said with uncertainty in his voice.
Do I tell him he’s right? He could turn me in.
He ran his sleeve across his forehead. “I’m not going to harm you. If you were she, we’d protect you. The council is up to no good.”
I paused and studied him, not sure if he was trustworthy. He didn’t seem dangerous, but that didn’t mean anything. Lining the basket was a copy of the Mystik Observer.
“Why do you have an Observer?” I asked.
“Because it’s the only true news out there nowadays. The others are filled with false stories the council wants us to believe.”
I decided to take my chance. If he turned on me, I’d fry his ass.
“I am her, but you can call me Gia.”
“All right, then, Gia,” he said. “Never in all me days would I have thought I’d meet the presage. You be a hero in Tearmann. One of our own, you are.”
I smiled, strangling the handle of my bag draped over my shoulder. “Do you think you could take me to your leader?”
Take me to your leader? Really? I sound like a cartoon alien or something.
“Most certainly,” he said, oblivious to the alien-like comment. “I will take you to our queen, but first I must pick these up. Me máthair won’t be able to make her pies for the bakery without them.” He sat on his heels and started picking up the fruit and placing it in the basket.
I bent down and helped him. “Why does your haven have a queen and the others have high wizards?”
“Briony be the daughter of our fallen high wizard and a princess from the Fey nation. After his death, Tearmann voted to have her rule the haven. We have a parliament of high wizards.” He piled the last purple fruit on top of the others. “They be the best of the wizards. Most pure hearted. If you be asking me, our system should be how they govern the entire Mystik world.” With that, he lifted the basket.
“You’re probably right,” I said, following him. “A responsible government or even a democracy would be ideal.”
“I don’t know what you speak of, but ours would work best.”
“Okay, same thing probably.” I wasn’t sure, but so far, Tearmann haven wasn’t after my head. That had to be a good thing. “So, what’s your name?”
“Buach,” he said, taking a dirt path that weaved around what looked like a large Hobbit village. The houses had colorful doors and stained-glass windows, and some were even dug into the many hills.
“How do you say your name, again?” I asked.
“Boo-ock,” he empathized for me.
“That’s a strong”—odd—“name.”
He stopped at one of the homes with a yellow door. “Can you open it for me?”
I grabbed the big brass knob and tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t move.
He snickered. “They don’t have doors where you come from? You push.”
“Oh.” I shoved open the door and stepped aside to let him pass. “We do have doors, but our knobs actually do something.”
“Too bad my ma isn’t home,” he said over his shoulder. “She would be beside herself for a month after meeting you.”
This was all taking too long. “I really have to be going. I’m running out of time.” I shrugged a shoulder. “You know, the whole I have to save both worlds thing.”
His eyes widened. “For the love of taffy flowers. I be as dense as a wicket. We go straightaway.” The basket thumped against the counter as he dropped it and rushed outside with me. “You’ll cause a ruckus if anybody recognizes you.”
Pretty much, I had to hide from everyone—bad and good. I drew the hood of my cloak over my head.
All the roads in that haven were twisty and turny. We’d walked nearly five miles when we approached a massive gate made of thick silver twisted to look like flowers, trees, and birds. Several guards flanked each side, and more kept watch from balconies carved into the rock above the gate.
“Lower your hood,” Buach said.
I pushed it off my head and suddenly felt vulnerable.
“Who do you have here, Buach?” said one of the guards with big biceps, wearing a helmet with flaps covering his cheeks and a bar hanging down that pressed against his nose.
Buach narrowed his eyes at him. “Blimey, Galach, don’t you recognize her?”
“What did I tell you?” Galach could narrow his eyes in a way more menacing manner than Buach. It made me take a step back. “Outside of home, you are to address me formally.”
“Just let us through, already,” Buach said. “Do you want to be known as the bumble head who didn’t recognize her?”
Galach studied me harder. His eyes widened. “The presage.”
“I’m here to see your queen,” I said. He was just staring at me, not saying a word. “Please?”
He shook out of his stupor, motioned for the other guards to open the gates, and escorted us inside.
“Contact the queen,” Galach ordered a smaller guard with red hair sticking out from his helmet. “Inform her she has a guest.”
We were led to an elevator that resembled the outside gate—silver rods bent and turned to look like flowers and birds.
The elevator took a while to reach the bottom. It bounced and my breath hitched. When the door slid open, I hurried out, only to discover it was freezing. The cold settled into my bones, and I shivered. We were inside a gigantic cavern. I wrapped my cape tighter around me.
“Is this real?” I asked, trying to take in all the tiny details, like the carvings of people and faeries and landscapes on the walls.
The hum of the electric lanterns—hanging on wires strung from elaborate spears sticking out of the rock on either side of the walkway—mixed with the plopping of a thousand drips of water. Surrounded by crystal stalactites and stalagmites was a castle that had been carved into the side of the cavern.
At the end of the walkway, we crossed a drawbridge and entered the castle. If the outside was cold, the interior was warm and decorated in brown and burnt orange furnishings with sculptures of strange looking animals lining the main corridor. We ended up in a room where a wiry woman, maybe in her early twenties, with hair almost the color of paper and even paler skin, stood up from her seat at a long table. She wore a cream jumpsuit made of some sort of chiffon material, a thick leather belt cinching her tiny waist.
She glided over to us. As she neared, her amber eyes held me. With her hair pulled half up in intricate braids, her pointy ears stood out.
“Gianna, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Her voice was as sweet as honey. “I’m Briony. Come sit down. You must be hungry. Our meal will be delivered soon.”
“I am,” I said.
A man in a stiff suit pulled out a chair for me. It was beside the head of the table where Briony sat.
Briony’s eyes inspected Buach. “And you are?”
“He be me brother, Buach, Your Highness,” Galach said. “He works in our family’s bakery.”
“Oh yes. Well, thank you for bringing our guest to me.” She gave him a warm smile. “You may go.”
Buach bowed, and before he turned to leave, he said, “When there be peace, Gia, might you come and have a slice of pie? Our bakery be the best in all the havens.”
“Definitely,” I said. “I look forward to it. Thank you for everything, Buach.”
“I should be the one to thank you.” His smile was sad, or maybe it was pity for me, the sacrificial lamb on her way to slaughter. “All right, then. Goodbye.”
It was as if he didn’t want to leave me there, so I gave him a reassuring smile. “Goodbye.”
After Buach and Galach exited the room, several men and women came in carrying trays. There were meats, cheeses, steamed vegetables, fruits, and baked goods. A man placed a white plate with etched flowers in front of me and served a helping from each tray onto it.
“This is a lot of food,” I said. “Is anyone else joining us?”
“No, it’s just us.” A woman showed her a bottle of wine, Briony nodded, and the woman poured it into her glass. The liquid was bright purple like the fruit that was in Buach’s basket. “When we are finished, they will sit and eat what is left over.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Now, leave us,” Briony said in a commanding tone. The room emptied, and she adjusted in her seat to look at me. “So, what brings you to Tearmann? I assure you we are allies. This is your father’s home. Carrig is one of our greatest Sentinels. Your father must be proud of you.”
Tears stung my eyes at the thought of him. I wished he were in Tearmann with me. He could show me his home, the people he knew. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if he never woke up.
Briony covered my hand resting on the table with hers. “What is it, dear one?”
“He’s in a coma.”
Her face was questioning. “A what?”
“It’s like an endless sleep.” I picked up the napkin on the table and dabbed the wetness from my eyes. “The thing is, his wife, Sinead, is also in a sleep. They’re tied to each other or something.”
“So she’s Fey.” She frowned, removing her hand from mine. “The same thing happened to my mother. When the Fey marry outside of our species, their lives are forever tied to their beloved’s.”
I placed the napkin back down. “Did your mother die with your father?”
She took a sip of the purple drink and nodded. “It was devastating. But enough about things we can’t change. You need something here in Tearmann. What is it?”
Well, she gets straight to the point.
“I need blood from the oldest living heir of the Third Wizard.” I pulled out the list Rada gave me. “A Cashel Deasmhumhain?” I totally butchered that last name.
“That is all?” She tilted her head back and laughed.
“Why is that funny?”
Recovered, she picked up her glass again. “I thought you were going to ask for an army.”
“Why? Would you give me an army?”
“Of course. We’re on the same side.” She glanced over her glass at me, took a sip, then placed it back on the table. “Here in Tearmann, we follow the rules of the Fey. We believe all living creatures should be cared for, and no one life is more important than another. When you need us, we will be there for you.”
“It’s how I feel, too.”
“I know you do,” she said. “I felt your empathy when you entered the castle. And, about the reason you are here, I am the heir. Cashel was my grandfather. He passed last autumn. I’m the only one left in the Third Wizard’s family. How shall we draw my blood?”
“Just a few drops are needed. You only have to prick your finger.” I bent over, retrieved the leather canister from my boot, and removed the vial containing the other heir’s blood.
“I’m curious to know why you need this, but it’s best you don’t say. Keep your secrets close, Gianna; not everyone is trustworthy.” She snatched up a knife and poked her finger with the tip. I held out the vial, and she squeezed her finger, letting a few drops fall into it.
Tell me about it. I wish I still had my truth globe.
As I turned my foot slightly, I could feel the small silver container Mardiana had given me. I took it out and added her blood to the vial.
“Who does that belong to?” she asked, her brow slightly up as she watched me.
“The Mantello heir.”
“I see. My curiosity has risen again.”
I ignored her. As she said, I should tell no one what I was doing. I secured the top of the vial, eased it into the canister, and returned it to the inside of my boot.
A siren went off somewhere in the castle, and Briony shot to her feet. “Oh dear. That’s not good at all. We’re being attacked.”
I stood, not knowing what to do.
They found me.