A Necklace of Water

  “What plans?” I tried to say, but could barely make a sound.

  She started speaking, and I felt rooted to the spot, on my knees on the wet leaves in this cursed place. Her eyes narrowed, she lifted her wand. I had time to think, Oh God.

  “Wait!”

  The voice came from the woods. Carmela and I both turned, dumbfounded. Petra rushed forward and threw herself in front of me just as Carmela snapped her wrist down. Petra’s own wand was pointed at Carmela, and she was hissing words I didn’t recognize.

  Petra’s body jolted and Carmela snapped her wrist up, looking astonished.

  “Maman!” she said, which made no sense to me.

  “Carmela?” I said, feeling brain-fogged.

  “Carmelita,” Petra said weakly, in front of me.

  Darkness Reigns

  Melita lowered her wand, then shook her head. Her face tight with irritation, she went and knelt in front of Petra, touching her shoulder. “Maman, tu est bçte comme un chou.”

  Petra couldn’t argue with her.

  Then Melita looked over at Daedalus, who was still curled on the ground, and at Thais, who was trying to get up, her face white, eyes huge with shock.

  “Carmela is Melita?” Thais managed to say, and Petra wondered with dread how on earth Thais knew her and why by that name.

  Slowly Petra got up, and her daughter Carmelita helped her. She hugged Petra briefly, and Petra closed her eyes, feeling deeply how long it had been since their last hug and how she might not ever feel it again. Then, stepping back, Melita pulled off her turban. Long hair as black as Armand’s spilled past her shoulders.

  Again Petra looked at Thais. She was staring at Melita in shock and … what else? Shame. Oh, Thais, Petra thought. What have you done?

  “Thais—Clio,” she said. “Are you all right?”

  Clio nodded, getting up with effort.

  Thais struggled to her feet, swaying slightly, looking green.

  “Quite the pair you have here, Maman,” Melita told Petra. “They’re very smart, very talented. And, of course, very, very powerful. I felt their power all the way in Europe.”

  “Is that where you’ve been?” Petra asked.

  Melita laughed, and Petra saw Thais shudder at the sound. “I’ve been all over, Maman. Everywhere.” She looked pityingly at Daedalus, who seemed to be barely breathing, then focused on Thais. “I wish you had not been so smart, so talented, and so powerful.” She switched her gaze to Clio. “And you—you saw in a moment what the rest of them haven’t seen in two hundred and forty-two years.”

  “What?” Petra couldn’t help asking.

  “The truth,” Melita said simply. “The fact is, we’re not immortal, we Treize. Your lives have only been extended for thirteen generations. Our time is running out. It’s time to renew our contract for another thirteen generations.” She smiled again. “That’s where your twins come in, Maman.”

  “What do you mean, extended?” Petra asked. “I don’t understand.”

  “Melita killed Cerise that night,” Clio said, more solemn than Petra had ever seen her. “As part of the rite. She took the power of Cerise’s life and gave it to all of you who were there. Now it sounds like she needs to do it again.”

  Petra’s mouth dropped open, and she stared at Melita in shock. “No.”

  Melita made a regretful face. “I loved Cerise, you know I did, Maman. But I chose her carefully—shewould die, but her line wouldn’t. See? I let you have her baby, at least.”

  Petra couldn’t speak.

  “Not … immortal?” Daedalus’s voice was so faint Petra could barely hear it.

  “No,” said Melita. “Just extended, for thirteen generations.” She pointed at Thais and Clio. “They’re the thirteenth generation. I’m here to do it again, to give us another thirteen generations of life. But I need the Treize, the twins, and … the chalice of wind, the circle of ashes, and the feather of stone.”

  And the fourth thing, Petra thought with dread.

  “Unfortunately, Daedalus is of no use to me now.” Melita shook her head at Thais. “I should have been more wary about someone whose darkness rivals even mine.”

  Petra heard Thais gasp and saw Clio look at her twin in shock.

  “Don’t look so surprised, Clio,” Melita said. “I’m very proud of you too.”

  “What?” Petra said.

  Thais hung her head, and Petra was dumbfounded. This was impossible.

  “What are you talking about?” Clio asked in a choked voice.

  “Of course, dear Cerise wasn’t,” Melita went on. “We all saw that. I’mclearly dark, but they’re not my descendents. No, they got their darkness from Cerise’s baby’s father.”

  “Richard,” said Clio. Petra had no idea how Clio knew that. Thais was surprised, though, judging by her face.

  “Not Richard,” said Melita.

  “Marcel?” Petra felt like she needed to sit down soon before she fell.

  “Not Marcel.”

  “But there were only those two,” said Petra. “I didn’t even know about Richard until recently.”

  “There was a third. Just once,” said Melita. “Our little Cerise, all fey and light, un papillon. But she got around, apparently. And no one knew. Except me.”

  Daedalus made a choking sound.

  “Yes,” said Melita, her eyes gleaming. “It was none other than our village elder. Just the one time—he lost his head, she didn’t resist, and now here we all are.”

  This didn’t make sense. Petra didn’t understand. “Daedalus was the father of Cerise’s baby?”

  “Yes,” Melita said. “And anyone looking at him can tell that he’s quite, quite dark. And his darkness has been passed down in that line, from generation to generation. Right into our twins.”

  “They’re not dark,” Petra said more strongly.

  “Of course they are, Maman,” said Melita. “Look around you. A forest full of dead birds, Daedalus stripped of his powers, your never knowing what they’re doing or who they’re with … Don’t blame yourself. It’s in their blood.”

  “They’re not dark,” Petra insisted, but she saw the look of guilt and shame on Thais’s face. How could it be possible that she had stripped Daedalus of his powers? Oh. Because she had been studying with Carmela, and Petra hadn’t known. Goddess, how she had failed.

  “Not as dark as they’re going to be,” Melita said. Fast, before Petra understood what she was doing, Melita hissed a spell and twisted her hand in the air. She seemed to grab something and hold it in her hand, and then she threw it to the ground, right in front of the charred and broken tree stump where the Source had been.

  Nothing left her hand, there was nothing to see—but the tree stump split with a huge crack! as if cleaved by a giant maul, and the ground groaned under their feet like an earthquake, almost shaking everyone off their feet. Then water erupted from the ground.

  It bubbled up through the split tree and welled over, spilling onto the leaves. The earth continued to split beneath it, an actual crack in the ground, growing bigger and bigger, and the water filled it. Within a moment, right in front of their eyes, Melita had reopened the Source.

  I felt like I’d been hit with a baseball bat, and it had permanently reduced my brain to mush. So much had just happened right in front of me, and I couldn’t understand any of it. But somehow I knew that Melita had thrown magick at the ground and made the Source appear after all this time, after all Daedalus’s effort.

  “That was Daedalus’s power,” Melita said, then turned to Thais, who looked just as pole-struck as I felt. “You never let power that big or that dark loose into the world, cher. Someone dark might find it, might use it to reopen a magickal well that would only make her stronger. Poor Daedalus. But it saved me from performing a difficult and time-consuming spell.”

  On the ground, Daedalus lay unmoving. I hoped he wasn’t dead. I couldn’t believe Thais had really done it, stripped his powers from him. She must have been planning this, th
is whole time, and she’d never told me.

  And now I had the horrible knowledge that hewas my ancestor. I hadn’t minded learning from him, but to know I was related to him, however distantly long ago, was sickening.

  Of course, if it were Daedalus who’d fathered the baby and not Richard … But no, I couldn’t even begin to think about all of that right now.

  I saw Nan start to edge her way closer to me. The earth had literally split open, and the crack was widening and filling rapidly with water. It was maybe eight feet across now, twelve feet long, and who knew how deep. Melita had rent the actual earth, and I knew that I would never see magick that big or strong or dark again.

  Melita had said that Thais and I were dark, as evil as she was. I prayed that wasn’t true. But I’d just seen my sister strip a powerful witch of his powers, practically killing him. He’d been writhing in pain, clearly tortured and anguished, and she had kept on. I don’t think I could have done it. But she was my identical twin. If she had darkness in her, maybe even more darkness than light, then so must I.

  But she was still my sister, and she looked as awful as I did, horrified and sick and ashamed. I went to her, putting my arm around her shoulders, just as Nan came up to us.

  “Are you both all right?” she asked again.

  I just laughed, a brittle, choking sound.

  “No, they’re not all right.” A new voice coming from the woods made us all start.

  I saw Manon, the new, older Manon walking toward us, her fists clenched, and remembered that Daedalus had asked some of the Treize to meet us here at dawn. Dawn had come and gone, and I’d barely noticed.

  “Manon—you look … different,” said Melita.

  “You don’t,” Manon said shortly. “I wish you’d never come back. The twins aren’t all right,” she repeated. “They’ll never be all right. I don’t want a full Treize, I don’t want the Source, I don’t want there to ever be another rite. I am finally something close to normal.” She gestured to herself, no longer a child, almost a woman.

  “But Daedalus—” Nan began as Manon raised her hand.

  “Manon, don’t be stu—” Melita began, but Manon cried out words that sent a chill down my spine and threw something at us. A rock? It glinted in the sun—a crystal? Melita shouted over her, but the crystal hit me and Thais where our shoulders were pressed together, and before I blinked again, I realized I was frozen, completely bound in a way I’d never been.

  My eyes slanted to Clio, and she wore the same wide-eyed look of fear I was sure was on my face. I tried to move but felt like I was encased in ice. This must be how Daedalus felt. Panicking, I realized that the Source had widened and was practically under our feet. I looked for Petra and saw that she was reaching out for us, but everything was moving in slow motion. Her mouth opened, but her words were incomprehensible. Her hands grabbed at us but never reached us.

  The ground beneath my feet gave way and I felt the rushing coldness of the Source lapping at my ankle. Then it was under our feet. I screamed, but no words came out.

  Then we were falling, stuck together, eyes wide, the earth beneath us splitting wider to take us in. The cold water was shocking, and I was stunned that we were sinking in the Source, the water sucking us under.

  This is how my darkness ends. As the water closed over our heads, an unexpected calmness came over me. It was over—it was all over. Somehow, it suddenly made sense. Starting with my dad’s death, everything in my life had been building up to this moment. Something bad had happened to me and brought my own darkness to the surface, as Melita had said. And now it was ending with my death. It seemed appropriate, after what I had done to Daedalus, after the revelation of what I might do in the future.

  These thoughts passed through my brain in an instant as I stared into my sister’s eyes. We were in the Source, and instead of giving us life, it was going to bring us death. Melita had just opened this split, but we’d already sunk out of sight of the surface into water that was becoming colder and darker with each passing second.

  We couldn’t move. Our eyes open wide, we could only stare at each other, unable to speak or struggle in any way. Manon had killed us to prevent another rite from ever taking place. With me and Clio dead, they wouldn’t have a full Treize ever again—not only would we not be there, but we’d never have children to continue Cerise’s line. And Manon would … what? Keep aging? Grow old and die?

  Clio’s hand tightened on mine—we could do that at least. I was a good swimmer. Daddy had taught me. But I was frozen like a block of ice and couldn’t kick my way to the surface. All I could do was hold my twin’s hand and watch her drown.

  How much time had passed? We were both still holding our breath.

  I was going to die today, right now.

  It was incomprehensible. I understood it but couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea.

  The water was dark but clear. I could barely make out Clio’s face. I’d gone seventeen years without knowing she existed, my other half, my identical twin. I’d known her barely more than two months, but I was about to lose her forever. And she would lose me.

  I thought about Luc, and my heart twisted. Clio was the other half of me, but Luc was the other half of my soul. I knew my death would hurt him. And it would hurt Petra too, but not nearly as much as Clio’s death would. Petra would be devastated by Clio’s death. I would miss her. But I would be seeing my dad soon. I hoped. Frowning, I wondered what the bonne magiehad to say about the afterlife. I didn’t know! There was so much I didn’t know.

  A look of pain crossed Clio’s face, and then a stream of air bubbles escaped her lips. My eyes opened wider, and I saw she looked panicked. I clutched her hand tighter, though the water was so cold my fingers were getting numb.

  No, Clio, don’t give up, not yet. I tried to send her thoughts, but I couldn’t tell if she could feel them.

  She coughed soundlessly, and I dimly saw her mouth open as she inhaled water. No, Clio, stop, stop! Hold your breath! This was it. She was drowning! God, Clio, please don’t leave me! My chest felt like a mule had kicked it, and my ears were about to burst, but I hadn’t given up.

  Inches away, Clio met my eyes one last time, and she smiled slightly. I love you, her mouth formed, and no air bubbles came out. Her fingers tightened a tiny bit on mine, then her eyes, identical to mine, drifted shut. I felt her body go limp.

  I held on to her hand as hard as I could.

  My twin was dead. Now it was just me again.

  And it was my turn to die.

  Should I repent of everything? Dad and I hadn’t gone to church much—I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. Ask for forgiveness? Part of me could never be sorry for what I’d done to Daedalus.

  I’d spent my whole life obeying rules, following directions, trying to do what was right, but I didn’t know the rules about dying. I didn’t know how to do it.

  I guess I should close my eyes….

  Not Part of the Plan at All

  Petra lunged toward Manon, who was leaning over the Source, a satisfied look on her face. She pushed Manon’s shoulders as hard as she could, which in her weakened state meant that she barely budged her.

  “Stop! Stop! Are you crazy?” Petra said hoarsely. Bracing her feet on the ground, she knelt by the water, trying to grab the twins. They were out of reach already, sinking like two flawed, beautiful stones to the earth’s core. “Help me, someone!” she cried. Daedalus was useless, barely alive, but the others were supposed to be here! Daedalus had asked Ouida to come this morning with a few others, and Ouida had told Petra and the rest of the uninvited.

  Manon was snatching at Petra’s shirt, trying to pull her away from the Source. “They’re gone! I’m sorry, but they’re gone!” she cried.

  Vaguely Petra heard voices, but she was trying to hold off Manon and couldn’t look.

  “Melita! Melita, no!” Jules’s voice overlaid Melita’s, and Petra realized her daughter’s voice was shouting a death spell. Aghast, she turned in
time to see Melita fling a hand at… Manon. Manon stiffened, her head tossed back, eyes open in surprise, and then she crumpled. Petra caught her as she fell, and she was dead. Actually dead, after all this time. Days after she’d finally wanted to live. Her face was more beautiful than it had been when she’d looked like a child. Her eyes were open, the color of the sky on a clear night.

  “Manon!” Sophie shrieked, running forward.

  A death spell? Manon could die from a death spell? But others of them had tried it before—it had never worked. Nothing had worked. But now Manon was dead. Petra was beyond grief, beyond tears. Manon had killed the twins, and her own daughter had proven herself a murderer—again.

  The cloudy skies opened up then, as if to cry for her, and a chilling rain began to fall. Then Sophie was dropping onto the wet leaves next to her, and Luc was shouting something, and Ouida was crouched over Daedalus.

  “How could she die?” Sophie said wonderingly.

  “Where are the twins?” Richard said, grabbing Petra’s shoulder. “Where are they?”

  “Thais!” Luc shouted. “Thais! Where are you?” He wheeled to face Melita. “If you’ve done them harm, I swear by the goddess I will hunt you down.”

  “Luc! They’re in the Source!” Petra pointed at the deep fissure in the ground, barely registering the horror and anger on his face.

  “Sophie, Sophie—I’m sorry.” Marcel’s voice was quiet as he knelt next to where she was sobbing over Manon’s body. He put his arm around her shaking shoulders.

  “Move, move!” Melita said, pushing him out of the way. Petra watched, numb, as Melita closed her eyes and began an incantation that Petra immediately recognized as dark and ancient. The surface of the Source began to roil. Petra stared at it uncom-prehendingly as Claire and Jules came and helped her up.

  “Pauvre petite,” Jules said, looking down at Manon, but Petra was transfixed by the clear water, bubbling over the edges of the hole. She stood unsteadily, holding Claire’s hand, and felt like she was a thousand years old.