The Demon's Covenant (40 page)

Mae had only been thinking that Nick would never forgive him. That he might kill Alan had not occurred to her, but Sin's flat certainty made her go cold.

“We can't let that happen.”

Sin hesitated. “What's your plan?”

“Are there people in the Market who would follow you without stopping to consult with Merris?”

Sin looked as if not consulting Merris was a foreign concept to her.

“You could start with Matthias the piper,” Mae suggested, and Sin looked suddenly thoughtful. “I'll warn Nick. Then, instead of being trapped, he'll work with the Market people. We can all deal with the magicians together.”

“Kill them, you mean.”

Mae took a deep breath and thought of the magician she'd killed for Jamie, thought of the bloody knife she'd washed and kept in a drawer she never opened. Then she thought of why she'd done it, and whether the nightmares were worth it.

“Yes,” she said steadily. “That's what I mean.”

Nick and Jamie would both be safe, and Alan and Merris would not be able to make choices that would ruin them.

Sin gave a tiny nod. “I just wanted to be sure you knew that.”

She tapped her fingers against the top of the kitchen counter, and then fished her phone out of her jeans pocket and tossed it at Mae. Mae caught it neatly.

“Put your number in it,” Sin said. “I'll ask some people. And I'll let you know if we have a plan.”

Mae remembered Jessica the messenger, and that she had known how Mae danced at the Goblin Market. A tourist could have talked. Or there might be a spy at the Market. “Be careful who you talk to.” Sin nodded as if that went without saying.

Sin's phone was plain and cheap. Mae thought of her own phone, which slid open and was tiny, shiny, and covered in stickers with slogans and castles and cupcakes on them. Sin loved Merris. She had no mother.

She was risking so much more than Mae was.

“Thank you,” Mae said.

She keyed in her number and then threw the phone back to Sin, who caught it and smiled, one of those beautiful showpiece smiles, as if she was throwing Mae a red flower.

“Don't thank me,” she said. “Just keep your part of the bargain.”

When Mae went back into the garden, she found Jamie curled up like a cat in the grass.

“I think I would like to go to sleep,” he said.

“Come on,” Seb said, sliding his sketchbook into his pocket and offering Jamie a hand up. “I'll take you home.”

They drove home in companionable silence, the engine humming and the sun shining through the windows. The air had turned amber and slow as honey, and Seb was humming as he drove. Jamie was lying down in the backseat, his breath slow and regular, and Mae half shut her eyes against the sunlight, her lashes cutting up the world into shadows and gold.

Seb pulled up outside their house, wheels crunching on the gravel, and he reached out and touched her hand.

“Mae,” he said, and she looked down at his tanned arms with the shirtsleeves rolled up and went still. “I wish every day could be like today.”

“Hold off on the making out until I'm out of the car,” Jamie said hastily, diving for the car door.

They did not kiss. Mae sat staring at him.

Word on the street is that Gerald's invented a whole different kind of mark
, Jessica the messenger had said.
Thorned snakes, eating their own tails.

You'll find the answer on the body of a boy you know quite well
, Liannan had said, and laughed.

Now she knew why Seb always wore long sleeves.

The mark that meant the wearer was a magician, and one of Gerald's, was burnt black against the pale flesh inside Seb's elbow.

18
The Girl's Guide to Battle

Seb gave her one horrified look and then shoved her out of the car. Mae rolled into her driveway and sprang to her feet too late to catch Seb. All she got was a spray of gravel in the face.

She turned and ran into the house, up the stairs, and into the music room.

“Jamie!” she said, and he winced and looked up from the sofa with guilty eyes. “Did you know Seb was a magician?”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn't tell me. Why?”

Mae could hear how hard her voice sounded, how unforgiving, and she could see how distressed Jamie looked, but she was so sick of being stupid, and he'd as good as lied to her.

Again.

“Same reason I didn't tell you about me.”

“Well, I don't understand that, either!” Mae said hotly. “You told me right away when you figured out you were gay. I thought we told each other everything.”

“It's not the same!” Jamie almost shouted. “Being gay doesn't hurt anybody. This does!” He took a deep breath as she stared at him, then swallowed and went on shakily, “I remember how scared I was you'd find out about me. I'd do something and I'd just freeze. I was so terrified. I thought there was nobody but me in all the world who could do magic, and I knew it could hurt someone if I wanted it to. I never, never wanted to hurt anyone. Then when I was fourteen Seb came to our school, and I knew. We can sense magic off each other, because magic to us is like air, it's like meeting someone who breathes air when everyone else around you breathes water. I was so
happy
. And he was just awful to me, from day one. I hated him. He was such a jerk. Then there were all these other magicians, and it seemed like they all wanted to kill me, so that was actually a step down from Seb. After that there was Gerald, and he showed me that I could do amazing things. He said that I was really good and it's the only thing I've ever been good at, and even Seb joined them and started hassling me about—about doing magic, being a magician, dropping the helpless act. Gerald said that if normal people found out, they'd hate us.”

“I don't hate you,” Mae said. “I love you.”

“I know you do,” Jamie told her, eyes pleading. “But you didn't love Seb. And I remembered how scared I used to be that you'd find out. I couldn't tell you. I had no right.”

Mae let out a short, sharp breath and went to the sofa where Jamie sat. She'd thought she was being so clever, watching Seb in case he suspected something. He'd known everything from the start.

So much for having a normal boyfriend.

“Did you know Seb was a magician?” Mae asked Nick Monday at lunchtime.

Nick looked up. “No,” he said in a level voice. “And he can't be much good, or I would have.”

“He's not,” Jamie muttered. “I'm a lot better.”

He didn't sound proud. He sounded as if it worried him.

Seb wasn't at school. It was kind of worrying Mae.

He'd lied to her and maybe even laughed at her behind her back, but she'd heard him on the phone with his “foster parents,” obviously the Obsidian Circle, begging not to be sent away. She kept remembering Jamie's pinched white face, talking about being a magician.

Jamie had her. Seb didn't have anybody.

The way he'd sounded on the phone, maybe he felt like he had no other choice. Except that was stupid. There was always another choice.

If he'd told the Obsidian Circle that he had let slip what he was, he could be in trouble.

Seb wasn't in school the next day, either.

She'd noticed him hiding his arms weeks ago. He'd been part of the Obsidian Circle for weeks and come to school every day. Mae was pretty sure he wanted to keep looking normal, to hang out with his friends.

He'd stayed with her out by the bike sheds.

Nick would probably be quite pleased if something terrible was happening to Seb. Jamie hated him. There was nobody who knew what was happening to Seb, and who might possibly care, but her.

Seb had mentioned his new foster family lived on Lennox Street. Mae could just pass by the house.

The magicians had been living only a few streets away from her and Jamie all this time.

Mae found Seb's car parked in the driveway of a house next to a nursing home; the lawn looked smooth as icing, red tulips waving their heavy, waxy heads from a bright, trim bed. The house was white, three stories with an oriel window on the top floor at the center, flowers in the window, like a set piece in marzipan. A toy house, built to look cheerful and perfect, an idea of home dreamed up by someone who'd never had a home.

There was no sign of movement in any of the windows.

So that was that, Mae told herself. She'd come by. She couldn't see Seb. She wasn't going to risk investigating any farther.

That was when a black limousine sailed down the road, and Mae ducked behind the hedge just in time to see it stop in front of the house. Two women emerged from it.

Jessica the messenger, knives swinging in her ears. And Celeste Drake.

They disappeared inside the front door, and Mae headed for the garden gate. There was a rose trellis that scratched her as she went in, a white petal falling onto her shoulder. She brushed it off and was grateful there seemed to be no spells impeding her way; no guard dogs or, since these were magicians, guard zombies.

The back door was actually open, as if to let warm summer air filter into the kitchen, which had wooden countertops and a rosy red-tiled floor. Mae entered it cautiously, ready to bolt at any moment.