Elves Invasion

31

“Who’s he?” Windyard asked cautiously.

“The shaman,” Ava replied, distracted. An idea was building in her and she wanted to follow her train of thought. “If I could spirit walk to Salem and find the vibration, maybe I could worldjump us there physically. But do places have vibrations, or is it just universes?”

“The shaman?” Tristan asked carefully.

“Yeah. You see, the shaman had his own agenda,” she continued, thinking out loud. “He wanted me out of his world, not able to jump to any part of it I wanted. Maybe it was the same with Lillian. He never taught her about the overworld or how to travel across it, so she made up her own name for it. The Mist.”

Ava glanced up and saw that her coven was looking back at her with wide, worried eyes.

“The dead shaman,” Breakfast said, as if to clarify.

Her coven thought that the shaman had been long dead when she was put in the oubliette.

“Do you get it? The worldfoam is the bridge to other universes, but the overworld—or the Mist, or whatever you want to call it—is the bridge across one world. It’s how Lillian and I were able to meet face to face on the raft,” Ava announced.

“Raft?” Una asked dubiously. “You met Lillian on a raft?”

Ava gave a frustrated growl. “It makes sense! The shaman hid the overworld from me so I’d have no choice but to leave his world or die. If I could just use the overworld to teleport myself out of the oubliette, he wouldn’t have gotten rid of me like he wanted.”

“I think Ava’s had enough,” Windyard said. “Let’s deal with getting back to Salem after some rest.”

“You think I’m crazy,” she said to her coven. “I’m telling you. The shaman was there in the oubliette with me.”

“Okay, Ava,” Una said, placating her. “I believe you. But right now you need to rest.”

The coven settled down in a far-flung circle. They all needed a moment to grieve for Juliet, and this was one of those times when the deep bond between them only intensified their emotions rather than helped alleviate them. Ava wished she could hole up behind the thick walls of a citadel so she wouldn’t feel what the others were feeling. She wandered among the trees until she couldn’t take another step and sat down inside the living cathedral, staring up at dawn’s paint on the ceiling.

She reached out to Juliet, hoping some part of her was still in the overworld. She stretched and strained, pressing her will into a tight ball that she sent up and out of her like a prayer. There was no answer. Just silence and mist.

Finally, Ava let herself cry. She cried until she choked and her stomach was sour from swallowing tears. She cried until her sides ached no matter how tightly she squeezed them. Windyard lay down on the ground behind her and put his arms around her. It felt like her ribs were cracking and she’d come apart if he didn’t hold her together. He didn’t say a word. She didn’t push him away.

Ava dreamed about the Queen. She was drowning in honey, reaching out to Ava in a wordless plea. Her insect head had Juliet’s eyes. Ava woke with a start. Windyard was asleep next to her. He was still thin and bronzed from the trail. His grown-out hair fell over his sharp features, giving him a lean and wild look that made her ache. Windyard felt her staring at him and opened his eyes, his head pillowed on his bicep.

I left Juliet’s body behind, she said in mindspeak.

You had to. It was that, or we all would have died with her, he replied.

What do you think the Hive will do with it?

Don’t think about that. Please, Ava. Don’t try to picture it.

I left Tristan’s body behind, too. I can’t even bury the people who die for me.

Ava could feel how deeply he wanted to reach out and pull her down onto his chest, and for a moment, Ava didn’t know what she was going to do. The most natural thing in the world would be to kiss him and love him, but she couldn’t. Not with an image of her Tristan’s rotting body in her thoughts. Windyard caught a glimpse of what she was thinking and he let his eyes drift away from hers. The moment passed. Ava hauled herself up to standing.

She found the rest of the coven already regrouping a few hundred yards away. Tristan watched Ava as she came out from between the trees. His gaze lingered on her puffy face and her red eyes.

“Where’s Windyard?” he asked.

Ava shrugged. “Back there,” she said, her indifference making it clear that the rift between them had not been repaired. Tristan looked troubled by this, so she changed the subject. “Anyone have any food?”

“We were just discussing that,” Caleb said. He looked hassled. “Is anyone familiar with this Monterey area?”

“I’ve never been, but I’ve seen pictures,” Ava offered lamely.

“Anyone who’s seen a car commercial has seen pictures of Monterey,” Una said. Tristan and Caleb had matching expressions of confusion. She shook her head. “Wow. That’s right. Neither of you have been to this world.”

“Do we need papers to get into the city?” Caleb asked.

Windyard emerged from the brush and joined them. “No. And you can relax, Caleb. There are no Woven in these woods.”

Ava noticed Caleb’s shoulders drop and realized that he had been on alert. “There might be a mountain lion or a bear here or there, but it’s safe,” Ava added. “And we can walk into town without having to show any identification.”

Caleb and Tristan shared a look and possibly some mindspeak. They both seemed uneasy with how easy things were here.

“But we do need money,” Breakfast said. He stood up and brushed the redwood needles off his legs. He studied his clothes, which were from Bower City. “This kit either makes me look like the coolest guy ever, or a giant tool. I can’t decide which.”

Una chuckled. “Do you really want me to answer that?”