Steadfast

When she turned the corner toward her locker—and, not far away, Mateo’s—Nadia immediately saw a familiar face, if not the one she’d been waiting for. “Verlaine! What are you doing here?”

Verlaine shrugged. “All I can do at the hospital is wait. All I can do at home is cry. So somehow Rodman is the least horrible place for me to be. That’s new.”

Nadia put her arms around Verlaine, reminding herself, She needs this. She needs her friends. Be one. As always, when she overcame whatever dark magic shadowed Verlaine, the impulse surprised her—and apparently Verlaine, too, because it took her a moment to hug back. But when she did, her grip was fierce.

“Nothing’s changed?” Nadia asked.

“Nothing. Uncle Gary’s still asleep. They put him in the same room as Mrs. Purdhy and Riley Bender; supposedly they’re studying them all together. Really I think the doctors don’t know what to do with any of them, and lining up the hospital beds makes them feel like they did something productive.”

“It might be useful,” Nadia said. “If you can get me in there, maybe I can try to figure out a little more about the magic at work.”

“Oh, hey, yeah!” Verlaine actually smiled a little. “I didn’t even think of that.”

Maybe Nadia could help; maybe she couldn’t. But she’d managed to cheer Verlaine up, at least momentarily. Gently she teased, “I can tell you’re worn out. You didn’t even wear one of your vintage outfits today.”

“Excuse me?” Verlaine gestured at the bedraggled stuff she wore. “Torn jeans? Flannel shirt? Nineties grunge all the way.”

“I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy to stop you.” Nadia went ahead and stowed her stuff in her locker. As soon as she shut the door and turned her head, she saw Mateo.

She loved him so much that it was less like she saw him and more like he happened to her—every line of his face new, as if it were that first moment they’d met. Mateo’s dark eyes met hers, and she opened her arms as she went to him.

They embraced fiercely, and he buried his face in the curve of her neck. Everyone in the hallway was staring at them, both at Mateo and the girl who wasn’t afraid of him. Was Mateo the only one in the world who didn’t know how much she loved him, that she would never give up on him no matter what?

But Mateo kissed her quickly then looked into her eyes, and she thought maybe he knew, too.

It was Verlaine he spoke to first, and Nadia couldn’t blame him for pulling away and offering Verlaine a hug as well. “Hey, you’re here. Are you all right?”

Verlaine hugged him back. “If by ‘all right’ you mean I can now go at least fifteen minutes without crying—maybe? We’ll see. How are you? I heard you had another nocturnal adventure. Oh, wait. That kinda sounded dirty.”

Mateo actually laughed. “Unfortunately, no. Unless you mean my feet. They were gross. I don’t even want to know what I walked through.”

He was joking about it. Nadia’s heart swelled with pride at his courage, facing down both the curse and the sneers of those around them. She took his hand, and for a moment as he smiled at her, she thought everything was well between them again, the way it should always have been—but then Mateo’s face fell.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw Elizabeth.

Her first thought was that Elizabeth looked terrible, which wasn’t a thought she’d ever had about Elizabeth before. Evil as she was, a sort of warm glow seemed to follow her everywhere, enhancing a beauty that was all the more striking for being so low-key and natural. Even now she was beautiful.

But instead of the gossamer white she usually favored, Elizabeth wore a dress that—well, it had once been white, but now it was dingy, even stained. Her curls had lost some of their bounce. Band-Aids over her knees only slightly disguised a number of cuts. If it had been anyone else, Nadia would have asked whether she was okay.

It’s like she’s forgotten how to take care of a mortal body, Nadia thought. She’s tearing it up as she goes.

Mateo suddenly straightened. His eyes took on the distant look that Nadia had learned to recognize as a sign that he was seeing something through his Steadfast powers—some working of magic that even a witch couldn’t witness for herself. “Oh, my God,” he said.

“What?” Nadia grabbed his arm then, not that he seemed to notice. “What is it?”

One guy in the hallway fell to the floor. Then a girl right next to them did the same. A teacher who came through the door slumped against one wall, coughed up the black slime, and slid down into unconsciousness.

People began screaming, freaking out, running in all directions. Gage immediately grabbed his phone to call 9-1-1; a few others stooped to check on those who had collapsed.

Elizabeth kept walking. As she went past one of the fallen, she would stoop just long enough to dip her fingers in the gunk; her skin smoking from the burn, she would then reach up to her shoulder. By now the scars on her flesh were ragged and horrible, but Nadia could recognize the symbol. It was complete; Elizabeth was just burning the marks deeper and deeper.

She didn’t even pause as she walked past Nadia and Mateo.

And there was nothing—nothing—Nadia could do to stop her.

“What’s going on?” Mateo said.

“Elizabeth’s speeding up. Going faster. The bridge she’s trying to build for the One Beneath—she wants it here sooner. Wants Him here sooner.” That much was clear.