She ducked into the bathroom and reminded herself to breathe.
We believe you have a human mother whose DNA was used in your making. If you help us, we may be able to find her. The Hedge-Witch’s words came back to her. Eli was drowning in half promises and threats and the electric shiver that sparked through her body when confronted by Tav’s challenging gaze. She had gone with Cam looking for answers, but last night had only raised more questions.
The memory of the ghost brought a bitter taste to her mouth, and Eli leaned over the sink and spat it out. Black bile sizzled in the bowl. Eli turned the tap on.
In one night, the Hedge-Witch had managed to ensnare Eli in a dozen different nets: the promise of belonging, the hint of knowledge, a passage between worlds tied to the vulnerable bodies of two humans. It had been a trap, and there was only one way out now: the mission. A chance to lose herself in movement and magic and death. She breathed easy for a moment. The question of her making and parentage would come later — if there was a later. If she proved herself to the rebels, if she earned a place here … but she let the thought dissolve into mist and shadow. Everything hinged on that if.
She checked the mirror and walls for cameras or witch-bugs, angry at herself for being so careless the night before. It seemed clean. Made sense: no witch, even an outcast, would trust dangerous magic to a human. Eli had no doubt in her mind that the Hedge-Witch’s alliance with the humans was only temporary.
Eli could hear Cam moving around the apartment. He crashed into something and cursed. She guessed he was hungover. She stepped into the steaming shower, and the hot water made her skin turn red. Last night she had been quick and anxious, rinsing off the caked blood and dirt; now, she took her time. She scrubbed at her body ferociously, wincing when she touched the purple and green bruises on her legs — souvenirs from falling out of the sky. She scrubbed until her skin was raw, trying to erase the memory of human blood on her face. Eli breathed in the chemical scent of chlorine, burning out the lingering scent of death. Then she tipped her head back, closed her eyes, and let the water trickle over her forehead and mouth. Her mind conjured up an image of Kite, her long hair flowing across Eli’s face like water, silky and damp. Kite had to be alive. She just had to be.
When her body was sore and the steam was starting to make her head spin, Eli stepped out of the shower. She dressed and replaced her pendant. It lay pressed against her sternum, safely hidden under her shirt. A headache blossomed at the base of her skull and she wondered if she had drunk too much last night, too.
Eli pushed open the door and took the few steps between the bathroom and the main area Cam used as a living room and kitchen. “What were you saying about coffee?”
“Christ, yes.” He ran his fingers through his hair, somehow managing to make it even messier.
“Great look on you,” she said.
“You don’t look so hot yourself,” he said, nodding to yesterday’s outfit, which she had slept in and was now splotched with water. “I see you’re sticking with the whole ‘fell out of the sky all bloody and dirty’ look.”
“I could still impale you with your umbrella.” Eli couldn’t muster the energy to make the threat sound plausible.
“Then who would make you coffee?”
“I’d wait until after.”
“Smart move.”
Eli found herself exploring the details of Cam’s apartment as if planning a heist — flicking through books, feeling for the absence of dust on surfaces, testing the windows for thickness and durability. This familiar routine helped to clear her head, to calm her agitated body. But it was a small space, and the water still hadn’t boiled when she was finished, so she shoved the sofa bed back into couch shape and collapsed in the middle. The smell of freshly ground beans filled her mind with promises. One of Eli’s human concessions — Circinae frequently despaired of the little addiction. Eli claimed it made her fit in better, but maybe she was more human than she realized. Guilty pleasures.
Her thoughts wandered as she waited, always coming back to the questions she wanted to ask and didn’t know how to broach. She waited until he brought over a cup of strong, bitter coffee to finally break the comfortable silence.
“How did you meet Tav?” she asked, surprising them both.
Cam settled down on the sofa beside her. “Oh, the same way everyone meets Tav. At a queer roller derby amateurs’ night. Did you know their hair glows under black light?”
Eli took a second to digest this information. “Tav roller skates?”
“Oh god, no, they were terrible. They skated right into me and spilled their drink all over my new shirt. I threw my drink at them, and we decided to be friends.”
“Cute.”
“We are. We’re different in a lot of ways, but hey, queers of colour have to stick together, you know?” He glanced over at Eli. “Maybe you don’t know. Anyway, a week later, we were playing Super Mario Kart on this couch, and they turned to me and asked if I believed in ghosts. I was going to make fun of them for being superstitious, you know, buying into that occult shit, but when I saw their expression, I knew. I knew they had seen one. I knew they were like me — they’d been touched by magic.”
“Humans can’t see ghosts.”
Cam shrugged. “Tav can. That’s why they’re the Hedge-Witch’s favourite.” His tone held no spark of resentment and more than a candlewick of pride. He turned to Eli with a gleam in his eye. “Why so curious about Tav? You didn’t say anything to them last night.”
“We didn’t leave on the best of terms.”
“I have a feeling that’s you with most people.” Cam took a sip and then sighed. “Hello, caffeine. I missed you.”
Eli sipped her coffee and thought about a boi on a bike and a girl who smelled like the sea.
“My turn,” said Cam, setting the mug down on the coffee table. “Why did you say yes?”
“I have to get back to the City of Eyes.” The answer came automatically.
“How do we know you won’t leave us the second we cross?”
“That’s your problem, not mine. I didn’t tell you to trust me.”
Cam watched her for a minute. “I don’t think you’ll leave us,” he said quietly.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Dread pooled in her belly again, a shadow gnawing at her flesh. How was she going to get them into the Coven without being discovered? She played with the handle of the mug. “Look, Cam, what we’re about to do — it’s dangerous. Really dangerous. I swore an oath, so I’ll take you, but I think it’s a mistake.”
“Won’t be the worst one I’ve made.” He fluffed his hair, but under his carefree demeanor was a current of darkness.
“Yes, it will be.”
Cam shook his head, a gleam of sadness in his eyes, but said nothing. Eli replayed his questions in her head. Why had she said yes? Because she had no other option. Because she wanted to. Because she didn’t know what she wanted.
Childhood fantasies of running away with Kite flooded her body with nostalgia and loss. They had discussed it many times, making elaborate plans, drawing maps, imagining new worlds. Sometimes they decided to flee to the human world. Sometimes they went back to the Labyrinth. Sometimes they trekked into the unknown, fleeing the City of Eyes for distant galaxies. Anywhere, as long as they could be together.