Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
J oss read Stuart Forth’s words over again, resolution firming in his gut.
Joss,
Your letter has shocked me to the core. Is it true? Could it be? Baby Clio survived? All of us—all the friends of her parents, Finn and Celyn—we all believed that the babe perished with them. All this time, we thought that the magic at the core of Finn’s baubles was all that was left of them in this world.
Joss. I offer my apologies. I should have told you the truth when you came to me before, looking for answers. But seeing one of the baubles again, after so long—it was a shock. And I could not know if you were acting on your family’s behalf. But had I known Clio was still alive, I would have turned over every rock in England to find her. That poor girl. Such magic she possessed! It became apparent when she was still such a wee babe. It was difficult for everyone. Finn came up with the idea to create the baubles. I helped him research the idea and helped in the painstaking process. Oh, the massive amounts of magic it took! Celyn, magical prodigy that she was, supplied most of it, but we even had some from baby Clio. I cannot describe the relief we all felt when they worked.
Whatever you do, if you’ve truly found the girl, I urge you to keep her from your family. They were cruel to Celyn after she married Finn. We only got to know them because they ran away from the misery they were making of her life. They manipulated and used her very ill. The pair of them managed to stay hidden for several years before Finn’s brother Gunther found them. It was he who killed them, that much we know. We don’t know if it was by design or by accident. I always thought it was likely an argument gone awry. No one knows the truth, save for Gunther, I suppose, but still, I fear for Clio if she falls in their hands.
Please, tell the girl she has a friend in me, for her own sake, and for the sake of her parents.
Joss looked up from the parchment as Clio stalked into her tent, her eyes wild.
“Tell me about the spider,” she demanded.
“What?” That was not what he had been expecting.
“Tell me!”
He searched her face and saw urgency—and anger.
“I need to know,” she insisted.
Sighing, he gestured for her to sit. “Are you going to tell me why you need to know?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps after you tell me.”
He took a moment before he began, bracing himself. “It started with the draugar,” he said quietly. “I had sneaked out of our home that night. There was a vixen with a litter of kits in the woods, not far from our home. I crept out to watch them playing outside the den while their mother was out hunting. I had visions of taming one, keeping it for a pet. The moon was but a sliver in the sky, but I crept close enough to see them. I watched them for a while, but I fell asleep there and only woke up to return home in the darkest part of the night.”
He swallowed. “Creeping home, I heard something strange. Cracking noises and a strange, gargled chittering. I paused, but could only see a lumpy shape in the shadows before our home. When I started to move again, I tripped, landing on something.” He took a moment to gather himself. “It was my older sister. She was dead. Mangled. Parts of her were . . . ripped out.”
Clio made a sound of protest, but he continued.
“I scrambled back, a scream building in my throat, but the shadowy lump shifted. A head lifted. Large eyes glittered at me from the dark. I swallowed the scream and backed away. It started for me—and I turned and ran, back toward the forest. It followed, growing closer. Those eyes, they were nearly upon me when I reached the horse chestnut tree we all got our best conkers from. I jumped up and shimmied up to the top faster than I ever had. Sobbing, I squished down into a crook between trunk and branch. It was so dark, all I could see was the glittering pair of eyes circling the tree, but I could hear that strange clacking and the scrabbling as it tried to come up after me.”
“It couldn’t climb?”
“Apparently not. I couldn’t see the creature. All I had to build on was the eyes and the sounds. For some reason, I was sure that it was a giant spider that had attacked my family and chased me. That is what I imagined while I sat up there for hours, clutching the tree with my eyes closed, waiting to be dragged down, knocked out, and eaten. But when dawn finally penetrated the deep forest, it was gone.” He sighed. “I know now that it didn’t make sense. A spider could have climbed after me. They caught the creature down the coast the next day and I heard the description of it. A human corpse with blue-black skin covered in runes and reeking of decay. I heard it. I believed it. But still, those haunting, imagined horrors stayed with me. Ever after, the sight of a spider struck me with a jolt of unreasonable, overwhelming fear.” He sat silent a moment. “It was a weakness my cousins loved to exploit.”
“Tell me what happened with your cousins.”
Joss made a face. “It was just small incidents at first. Scary tales, crudely crafted facsimiles hanging from sticks, masks that they wore when they jumped out at me from the dark. But then one of them learned an enlargement spell. They hunted up a jumping spider and tossed it into my room, then grew it to the size of a pony. It was waiting for me when I went to bed.”
He shuddered. “I suppose I must have looked like a juicy bug to a spider of that size. At first, I froze with fear, unable to even move. I could scarcely breathe. But I did rouse myself enough to fight back. Not that I stood much of a chance. It had me trussed up in silk in a matter of minutes. It was the exact nightmare I’d had every night since my family died. Lying helpless while a monster prepared to devour me. Fortunately, my aunt finally came to investigate the screaming. She shrunk it back to size and cut me free.”
“Just a prank,” Clio murmured. “You nearly died and they call it just a prank.”
Joss stopped. “They did. They still do. But how do you know that?” Sudden panic seized him. “What’s happened?”
He moved toward her, but her expression hardened. “Did you know?” she demanded.
“Know what?”
Her eyes narrowed, and his widened. “About your father? That he was the one who created the baubles—and he was also Finn Hagan, my uncle?”
“Yes! Did you know? Did you keep it from me, all this time?”
“No! I mean, I wondered, at first, if you were related to my mission. You knew the bauble! But I didn’t really suspect who you were to them, who you are, until you touched it and remembered. I feared it then. But I didn’t know for sure. Not until I got this.”
Pulling out the letter, he handed it to her. He watched her read it, and he grieved as her face crumbled. “I’m so sorry.”
When she reached the end, she covered her face. “They really are horrid, aren’t they?”
His heart broke for her. “I know you wanted a loving family,” he began.
But she broke in. “Wilmot Hagan is here,” she said.
The shock of it hit him hard. Fear and fury tightened in his chest as she spoke about her encounter. He hung his head a moment. “I considered saying nothing to you. I tried to convince myself that you might have a different experience with them.” Shaking his head, he took back the letter. “But now I know better.” His mind was racing. “Clio, you should go.”
“Go?”
“Yes, go. Run. Hide. Hide again. Hide away and be safe. You’ve been to so many places. Surely you know of one where you can be well hidden and stay that way.”
She looked stricken. “I can’t, Joss.”
“You must. You are not safe, Clio, not now that he knows where you are, who you are.” His heart twisted in his chest. “I cannot stand the thought of them hurting you.”
Her gaze fell away. “You don’t understand. I can’t.”
He stared at her, searching frantically for a way to convince her.
When she spoke, it was almost in a whisper. “When you asked me about my tendency to stay within the Night Market borders, I didn’t tell you the whole truth. There is more to it, more to the connection between the Night Market and me.”
He listened, shock growing as she explained. “The Market is a siphon,” he said, feeling a little numb.
“I know it’s something many people would have difficulty with, but I swear to you, it is a partnership. It works for both of us and benefits so many. It is not vile or?—”
Joss lifted a hand. “I know. I understand. I don’t have a prejudice against siphoning magic, just against the Hagans. But your connection won’t matter to them. They will never allow you to stay with the Market. They will want your power for their own.”
She shook her head. “They will not be able to force me to leave.”
“They will find a way,” he said bleakly. “Even now, you don’t understand the worst of them. They have no scruples, especially when it comes to getting what they want. They will threaten or even take Maret or Jarby or someone you care about to force you to obey.
“Is that what they did to you?”
He snorted. “I had no one left to use against me. But they have so many ways to make you miserable or unsure of yourself.” He closed his eyes. “I can tell you with utter certainty how it will go. They will see your power and welcome you with open arms. They will do everything they can to separate you from the Night Market and your relationships here. They will tell you it’s only temporary. It’s for your own good. But it won’t be.”
He sighed. “And then it will begin. Just small things at first. They will begin to minimize and denigrate your power and accomplishments, even as they make use of them. If you begin to object, they will all agree that you are overreacting, that you are too sensitive in general.”
“Then will come a tiny lie that someone will refuse to admit to, even when evidence to the contrary is plain. Someone will insist that your memory was incorrect, and the others will back it up.”
Her eyes had grown wide.
“Next, something will happen. Some incident or mistake. Blame will be shifted to you. Everyone in the household will agree you should take responsibility, even if you have nothing to do with it. You will be chastised, frowned upon or shunned until you agree.”
He looked at her face and saw the disbelief and rebellion there. “I know you think you will stand against them, and you might, but it will be difficult. They won’t back down. They will start a campaign of whispers. Among the servants, outside the household. They will discourage you from going out so you don’t inflame the gossip. They will do all they can to keep you isolated and at their mercy.” He took her hand. “I do not wish for you to go through that sort of misery.”
He turned away, thinking, pacing, after a moment, it came to him. Going back, he knelt before her. “Listen. I know how you can do it! Take the bauble. Take it and hide yourself away. It can work for you again and help you contain your magic, just as it did when you were a child. Take it and go.”
Her face softened. “Joss,” she whispered. “I cannot do that to you. To either of you. I’ve seen your bond.”
He touched her hand. “Listen to me. I have bonded with the bauble. I’ve always been fascinated with the warmth, the golden glow of kindness and humor and curiosity and generosity at its core. But Clio, all of that comes from you. It’s you at the center of it. It’s you who have sustained me through my journeys, who helped me escape the Hagans. You filled it with your light and love when it came into being. It is its own entity now, but it all started with you.”
She reached for him and he held her tight, breathed her in.
“I don’t want to hide, Joss.” She breathed the words into his hair. “I want to stand up to him. Fight, if I need to. I can do it. I know I can, if you will stay beside me.”
He pulled back. “Always,” he said fiercely. “As long as you’ll have me.” Shards, but it would be risky. He hauled her back into his arms and used the touch of her body, the softness of her, to hold off the thought of the splintering he would suffer if anything happened to her.
Her hand caressed his hair and she started to speak, but suddenly, a reverberating roar echoed through the Market.
Pushing him back, Clio leapt to her feet, her face draining of color. “Maret,” she gasped. “No!”