Home > The Girl of Hawthorn and Glass(8)

The Girl of Hawthorn and Glass(8)
Author: Adan Jerreat-Poole

“This way.” Tav’s hand grabbed hers. Eli was grateful for the leather gloves that kept their skin from touching. She wanted to feel Tav’s skin against hers. She knew these thoughts were dangerous.

They led Eli over the jumbled rocks until they arrived at a large slab of granite. Eli felt a sense of camaraderie with the rock. When her feet scraped the stone, it rang out with a tone that resonated deep in her bones. Granite.

Tav sat down, cross-legged, and pulled their gloves off, stretching their fingers. Eli followed more cautiously, slowly lowering herself onto the surface.

All of Eli’s blades began vibrating, sending tremors of energy down both of her femurs. Eli wondered what they wanted. To cut.

“This is the most magical view in the city.” Tav’s breath tickled Eli’s ear. Eli closed her eyes and felt warmth radiating off the human body beside her. Breathed in the scent of leather and oil. Shivered.

“Eli. Open your eyes.”

Eli did. She looked out over the simple human world. A thin grey stripe of river twisted below their feet. Iron-black trees, bark peeling off like old skin, stabbed angrily at the horizon. And behind the veil of day, the moon was coming home. It glowed, ghostly and fantastical, a giant white orb that seemed to take up most of the sky.

It was breathtaking.

“How did you find this place?” Eli asked. Even after all her years coming to the City of Ghosts, there were many places she had never seen.

Tav chewed their lip for a second before answering. “I was looking for someone. Something, maybe.” They glanced furtively at Eli, who kept her face impassive. “I stole my mom’s bike and took it for a joyride. After that, she told me to get my damn licence.” Tav laughed. Fondness had spilled into their tone like nutmeg.

“Where is she now?” asked Eli.

“Home.” Their voice slammed shut like a window. “I moved out.”

The granite block caught the light and reflected it back to the sky. Eli looked into Tav’s eyes and saw her own reflection in them. Heavy bangs, dirty glasses —

“They’re not contacts, are they?”

“What?” Eli drew back. Her glamour was still in place. Tav should not be able to see her true form. Narrow reptilian eyes that never blinked bore into Tav, daring them to run.

What would she do if they ran? Could she let them live?

“Your eyes.” Tav’s voice was low. It hummed through Eli’s body and she knew in that moment she could not kill them, not now, not here. She couldn’t leave Tav an orange smear on this rock.

“It’s okay. I’m not scared.” Tav leaned closer. Eli felt her heart racing at their proximity. She could see the gold flecks in their dark eyes and the brown roots of their hair.

Her blades hungered for death.

“No!” In a flash, Eli pushed Tav away from her. Snatching the keys from Tav’s pocket, Eli jumped up and ran. Heart pounding, adrenalin pumping, thinking, What did I do? What just happened?

“Eli! Wait! Where are you going?! Eli!”

Tav’s shouts chased Eli over the rocky plateau. She was going to be unmade. She had let herself be discovered by a human. If Circinae found out —

She wouldn’t find out. Eli would do as she was told. Stop asking questions. Stop getting into trouble. You are a weapon, she thought. You have value. Glory. Honour.

Eli threw herself clumsily onto the bike. Shaking hands jammed the keys into place. She had to get out of here. She had a job to do. Thinking she could be free of magic by taking a joyride? Pretending she could throw off her origins and play human forever? She was still a foolish child who believed in happy endings. There was no way to avoid her fate.

But she still had human weakness in her, and so she looked back. Just once. She could see the silhouette of a person holding a motorcycle helmet in one hand. They were facing her. Not running, not shouting. Just standing, staring straight at her. And the last thing she saw before she gunned the engine was the look of hurt and accusation in Tav’s eyes as they met Eli’s.

They’ll get over it, thought Eli.

She almost believed it.

Then she was gone, driving recklessly into the night, trying to find her way back to something that made sense. Something familiar. Something that would remind her who she was.

She had to kill someone.

 

 

Eight


The first time Eli killed a ghost, she had been welcomed back into the Children’s Lair with dollar-store balloons and wildfire and the insistent claws of other children.

They were proud of her.

Like human children in the City of Ghosts, witch children in the City of Eyes were not innocent creatures to be kept pure and unstained like a silk pillowcase. They were grubby, dirty, bloodthirsty animals, vicious and feral. From the bullies on the playground that drew blood with their words to the magic girls who vivisected animals and stole power from the dead — they really weren’t all that different.

You didn’t earn adulthood by killing. You earned your place in the world as an assassin. You had value.

“Eli!”

“Eli’s back!”

“The Stick Girl returns!”

Eli played in the mud with the other children, her hair coated with pungent wet earth.

“Ghost slayer!”

“Sister hero!”

Hands captured her wrists and spun her around. Other hands shoved berries into her face. Happily, she’d opened her mouth and swallowed. The juice was sticky and sour and made all the colours around her brighten, as if the lights had been turned up. The children had worn bright reds and blues and violets, and Christmas lights had been strung across the stone sanctuary.

Eli found herself flung outside the circle of fiercely dancing bodies. She was caught by damp arms and heard a familiar voice in her ear.

“You have returned to us, little sister,” the purr echoed in Eli’s head. She turned, still encircled by Kite’s arms. Daringly, she pressed her forehead against Kite’s. Surprisingly, the witch child’s skin was warm. “The Warlord must have been watching over you.”

The Warlord: a myth, a legend, a god. An invisible friend to keep you company when you were lonely, a guardian angel to watch over you, a monster under the bed.

“Of course I came back. You need me.”

Kite laughed. “To keep me out of trouble?”

“To help you get into it.” Her yellow eyes glittered dangerously.

“You are our champion now, ghost killer, toy assassin. The children were afraid you would die in the human world.”

“Sticks can’t die,” Eli retorted.

“But they can break.” Kite’s hair floated around her head as if she was submerged in water. Strands brushed against Eli’s face. She closed her eyes and let them pet her gently, insistently.

“You are stained with death now. You are one of us.”

The pure joy Eli felt at that pronouncement was unimaginable, dissolving on her tongue like sugar. Sweet and potent. One of us.

She opened her eyes. Kite’s pupil-less gaze stared back. Kite smiled widely and leaned closer. Eli’s breath caught. She found herself staring at Kite’s lips, blue like frostbitten leaves.

Kite’s tongue darted out and licked the corner of Eli’s mouth.

Eli gasped at the sensation. She closed her eyes and leaned in further, her mouth opening.

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