“I swear it.”
Kite smiled gaily and clapped her hands together. It sounded like a dying fish flopping uselessly on land. “Oh good. Now — let’s play.”
There was no day or night in the City of Eyes, just the pulsing dark of a sky that wavered between blackpurple and greygreen, the fierce glow of the city like a sun, and the twinkling lights of the human world somewhere overhead. Now the sky was acid green and black, sickly and spectacular. It felt like a portent, but Eli had never learned how to read signs.
Eli took the secret path to the island in the river. From there, she counted her steps — 115 north, 48 northwest — then spun around in a circle counter-clockwise four times. She plucked a hair from her head and offered it to the wind, who snatched it up immediately and devoured the dark strand. Finally, she closed her eyes and visualized Kite’s stormy eyes and bird’s nest hair. When she opened them again, Kite crouched before her, playing with a crustacean in a tide pool.
“What took you so long?” she asked. “I’ve been waiting months.”
Eli didn’t correct her.
“Got held up. Work, you know.” She slid her hands into her pockets and leaned against a tree trunk, feeling, for the first time all day, calm. Kite had that effect on everyone.
(The calm that Kite carried with her was dangerous.)
“Here, I made you a snack.” Kite blinked long feathery lashes that were like an insect’s antennae and reached out, her palms flat and facing the sky. The crustacean was petrified, an icy bit of meat that Kite had coaxed up from under the riverbed.
“You know I’m always hungry after a mission.” Eli grabbed the thing and threw it into her mouth, crunching a couple of times before she swallowed its sweet body. “Delicious.”
Kite bowed her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. “Good hunting?”
“No.” Eli sighed and picked at a stray thread on her jeans.
“The ghost escaped?” Kite’s voice was like a lullaby, and suddenly all Eli wanted to do was lie down and sleep for years.
When Eli didn’t respond, Kite moved forward, soundless, and placed a gentle hand on Eli’s arm. Her skin was smooth and damp, like some kind of sea mammal.
“Eli?”
The touch and the voice made Eli’s heart slow, her breathing steady, even as she fought the urge to pull Kite into her arms and burst into tears. But no — that would be the human thing to do.
“I don’t know what went wrong,” Eli whispered. “I’m worried I’m going to get unmade.” Saying it out loud made it more real — and brought back the iron smell of human blood.
Kite’s grip tightened, and a bolt of blue lightning sparked through her eyes. “I won’t let that happen.”
Two pairs of eyes: one animal, one storm-touched. Eli pressed her forehead against Kite’s. “Circinae will kill me.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” said Kite. “But we can stop her.”
“What?” Eli pulled back.
Kite tried to look apologetic. Witches were notorious for not experiencing regret. “It was just something I came across in the Coven library. In the archives.”
“Tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Kite drifted away from Eli and back to the tide pool. She began crooning softly, luring other creatures up from the depths.
“Come, let’s have a feast.”
Angrily, Eli walked over and stomped on the pool, sending critters scattering.
Kite sighed. “You have a human temper, Eli.”
“And you sound more like Circinae every day.”
Kite hugged herself and turned a hurt expression to Eli. “Take that back.”
“Then tell me what you found.”
“You know I can’t. That information is only for witches.”
“And I’m just a witch’s pet. Is that what you’re after, Kite? Trying to steal me from Circinae so you won’t have to build your own?”
The thought had been creeping into her mind ever since that day, almost six months ago by human time, when Kite had left her on the island. That memory poisoned their time together now, and made Eli doubt every word Kite said.
“Maybe I’m just a toy to you, now that you’re a full witch.”
“That’s not fair, Eli.”
“And you’re a shitty friend, Kite.”
“I’m doing the best I can.” Her voice sounded lost now, as if the sound waves were moving through water. That was how Eli knew Kite was truly hurt, and in her fury, she took pleasure in Kite’s pain.
“Well, I have more important things to do than feast and frolic today, Witch Lord,” said Eli coolly. “So if that’s all you can offer me, I’m leaving.” She turned on her heel to walk away.
“I’m not the Witch Lord yet, Eli.”
Eli paused and said quietly, “And when you are, I will lose you entirely.”
Eli hadn’t gotten farther than a dozen or so paces when Kite called her back, an inflection of fear in her voice. “Eli! Stop!”
Eli spun around, her hand already gripping her bone dagger. “What’s wrong?”
Suddenly, Kite’s magical body materialized in front of her, like mist come to life. She could move through the world like a fish cutting through the ocean. “A message. One of the animals brought it from under the riverbed.” She extended an arm, her hand clutching a thick piece of bark.
“A summons from the Coven.” Eli pushed her glasses up her nose and sighed. “They have the best timing.”
“Be careful, Eli, the Coven —”
“Thank you for the summons, messenger,” Eli said bitterly. “Now go back to your people and leave me alone.”
This time, Eli didn’t look back.
Five
Circinae was waiting, dressed in a long cloak of sewn-together leaves that were mottled brown and grey. “Why are you here? You should have gone straight to the Coven,” she told Eli angrily. “They don’t like to be kept waiting.”
Last time Eli had gone straight to the Coven, and Circinae had been furious. Then she had punished Eli by refusing to show her the secret entrance to the Coven for several hours (only a witch could come and go as they pleased).
“My apologies, Mother.” Eli took a calming breath and tried to push out the hurt and anger she felt after her reunion with Kite.
A thimbleful of guilt, acidic as bile, crept into her mouth. She spat it out. The glob of spit turned green and black, bubbled, and then was absorbed into the floor. The house thrived on powerful emotions.
“Let’s go already.” Circinae spat on Eli, her own saliva red as blood. It spattered across Eli’s face and stung, but she had learned as a child not to flinch. Magic always hurt, in one way or another. A witch’s skill was making the hurt someone else’s, but even they had limits.
A moment later, they were in front of the Coven’s main building, the white so blinding that Eli winced and squinted, wishing she hadn’t broken her sunglasses on a previous assassination — or at least had the forethought to replace them.
“Clean your face, you look disgusting.”