The Line

TWENTY-SIX

Light returned to me in painful bursts. I was still propped up against the wall like a doll, exactly where I’d fallen. I was unable to move, but I knew it wasn’t due to magic. The snap I’d heard upon hitting the wall had been one of my vertebrae.

Connor sensed that I’d returned to consciousness. “I really am your father,” he said, never taking his eyes off the book, copying it as quickly as his hand could move in a shorthand that no human eye would ever unravel. “But truth is, you have been a terrible, terrible disappointment. The thought that Emily gave her precious life in exchange for yours is one of the greatest tragedies this world has ever witnessed. Oh, and I am including all of the wars, pestilence, and famine in history. At least those served the purpose of thinning out the herd. Rest assured, if I had been at the house the day you pulled your worthless self into this world, your mother would still be alive, and you’d have long since rotted to nothingness in a shoebox in Bonaventure.”

“You were the one who killed Ginny.” I managed to gasp out the words.

“No, my dear. I most emphatically did not. I am merely profiting from the actions of another. Isn’t that right, Wren?”

After everything that had happened that day, I should have lost the capacity to be surprised, but I was still shocked when Connor said Wren’s name and the boy materialized directly in front of me. He had evidently been standing there all along.

“She was going to kill me,” Wren calmly explained. “I couldn’t let her hurt me.”

“But we’ve got a deal now, haven’t we, Wren?” Connor asked cheerfully as he carried on with his note taking.

“I’m sorry, Mercy, but Connor has promised me not to tell anyone about Ginny if I help him.”

“Help him do what?” I tried moving again, but couldn’t even squirm.

Connor looked up from his work and smiled at me. “In one hour, I am going to be having drinks with the crème de la crème of Savannah at a charity auction. I will be photographed repeatedly with my beautiful wife Iris on my arm. In one hour and fifteen minutes, Wren will crack your skull in, just like he did Ginny’s. I’ll find your body here in a few days, after it’s much too late for Iris to pull any impressions from the scene.”

He turned back to the journal and continued copying. “I took photos of all of this with my cell phone’s camera,” he said. “But you know how magic can interfere with technology. Just a few more pages, and I’ll leave you two to the rest of your evening.”

I couldn’t find the wind or the will to say another word. Connor carried on, occasionally repeating a phrase to himself or double checking the accuracy of one of the traces he’d made. His satisfaction seemed to increase with every conquered line until he turned to the last page, and shut the book with a satisfied sigh.

Suddenly the journal burst into hot and sticky flames. Cries began tearing from Connor that spoke of something deeper than terror and more pointed than pain. The flames clung to his fingers even after he had cast the journal aside. It must have been booby-trapped to prevent its secrets from ever leaving this house.

After a moment, Connor fell to the floor wailing. Between screams, he ordered the flames to stop, but they continued to pour from the open journal and rush across the floor to engulf him. He managed to climb onto his knees, and he turned to face me, his hands extended as if I were capable of helping him. What remained of his face was contorted with fear and pain, his eyes reflecting the knowledge that the fire would not abate, that it would consume him. Still unable to move, I could only watch as his hair smoldered and caught fire and his skin blackened. He rose and tried to take a step toward me, a living candle, but then fell back to the floor. As his body jerked up and down, the flames began to spread, and what was left of Connor became the epicenter of a fire that was expanding in every direction. I could feel the heat of the conflagration on my face but was helpless to escape it.

Desperately hoping that I might still be able to access some of Oliver’s power, I tried to will the burning to stop, but it continued on unabated, racing faster and faster to the furniture and up the bookcase, melting the books’ bindings before the books themselves burst into flame. The room was thick with smoke, and the only reason I could see was going on around me was because my head was so close to the floor.

“I’m sorry, Mercy,” I heard Wren’s voice call out to me as the door to the room slammed shut. The fire licked at it almost instantly, defying me to try to touch the now glowing knob. I could hear sirens in the distance, but I knew they would never arrive in time. The flames enveloped the wood of the door then seemed to collect and regroup themselves. Suddenly the fire began advancing on me with full force.

It stopped abruptly, close enough to redden my skin with its heat and choke my lungs with its residue, but not to do any real damage. The flames were like none I’d ever seen. Even without a witch’s vision, I could see their true form. Hundreds of small, salamander-like creatures. Suddenly I realized that they weren’t from an actual fire at all—they were fire elementals. A chorus of razor-sharp voices exploded around me, angry and confused, and then there was a single unified gasp. The creatures circled me, each shooting out a tongue to lick at my foot. To my surprise, the contact left me cool and unharmed. A wave of murmurs poured out from each of creatures in a language that had long since faded from this world.

The flames joined together and covered me. I was certain that my life was over, but instead of burning me, they enveloped me and lifted me gently to my feet. I felt sensation return to my body in a rush, and my limbs finally started obeying my commands again. The united flames floated me upward and out a window that had shattered upon my approach. Below, I could see the fire trucks, their hoses aimed not at the fire itself but at the other houses surrounding the charred and twisting remains of Ginny’s house. I was carried unseen above it all, then the flames released me a street or two over, beyond the smell of smoke and the red and white lights of the emergency vehicles. I landed on my feet as surely as a cat, and the fire elementals burrowed themselves deep into the earth, leaving behind no trace of their existence.