Page 118 of Crown of Tides and Fury

Had this been his real goal, all along? To collect all those powers so he could become a god?

I glanced behind me, to where Persi watched, confused. She looked prepared to kick off her shoes and get the hell out of there. But Kitch stood beside her, still holding her hand, whispering in her ear, fearless as ever.

Rinky was turned sideways in her chair with her arms hugging her pink-covered knees. If she’d been hesitant before, now she was terrified. Alwyn kept an arm around her shoulders. He shot a look at me as if to ask, one mortal to another, if this was normal. I shook my head.

The laughter stopped. Wickham's eyes closed again, the grin gone. His lips moved only slightly, and suddenly the same red mist burst out of his chest and rushed in a blur, toward Lorraine and the table. It dove into the opening of the tallest bottle like a dutiful genie. I expected the thing to wobble and fall with the force of all that mist pouring into it, but it held still, as if the red stuff were nothing more weighty than light.

The tail of the red cloud exited Wickham, but a white mist followed it, wouldn't let go, tried to pull it back inside his chest. He noticed, muttered something aloud, and the tail came free. The pale entity retreated whence it came.

When the last of the red slipped through the tiny opening, Wickham was there. I thought I saw a flash of green light slip inside just before he closed the lid and hermetically sealed it, but it might have been my imagination, or a reflection of our protective dome.

In either case, Wickham was Wickham again. I would never be able to look at him the same, though, wondering what went on inside that chest. That white mist was real and it was drawn to me. And that pull I felt when I got too close--that I was so used to feeling that I’d nearly forgotten about it--wasn’t Wickham at all.

It didn’t like letting go. Just like it didn't like giving up Felicity's power...

I was spent, emotionally. I could only imagine how Rinky felt, not knowing Wickham well, unsure if he were god or devil, and if she dared trust him with her power.

If I were her…

45

The Music Of Spent Beauty

Felicity sat in a puddle on the ground. If it hadn’t been for the shine of her dress reflecting the fire, she would have blended with the shadows.

I kicked off my heels and hurried to her. Others were just catching on too, and the awe of the moment was replaced with concern.

I crouched in front of her. “Felicity! Are you all right?”

Quiet sobs wracked her body. I found her hands and lifted them, to get her to look up. Black circled her eyes and streaked her cheeks, but it was only mascara. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s get you to a chair.”

“I’m all right,” she said, then laughed. “I’m fine, really. I’m…free!” She pulled herself off the ground and clutched my arm while I helped her to the front row. Instead of sitting, she stepped to the side, looking for Rinky, then repeated. “I’m free, Rinky. I’m free!”

There was a blur of pink as her friend hurried to her, and the two hugged for a long time, laughing and crying both.

Wickham remained by the table, watching, waiting. If he walked away, the moment might be lost, and Rinky might chicken out. But who could blame her?

The two women finally released each other, and Rinky returned to Alwyn’s side. He laid his hand against her face, kissed her cheek, then whispered in her ear. She nodded, reluctantly, then allowed him to escort her to the fire.

Brave, loyal, and true, Alwyn was saving the day.

* * *

Wickham liftedhis staff but before he could pound it on the ground, Felicity shouted, “Wait! Let her show off first!”

Rinky’s face pinkened to a darker shade of her dress. She bit her lip for a second or two, then grinned. Wickham gave her a nod and rejoined Ivy on the front row. The sisters did the same. Alwyn gave her plenty of space, but stayed close.

I couldn’t imagine what she was thinking as she stared out at the yard, the center of which was full. Beyond the new bridge and waterworks, the orchard branches hung heavy with ripe apples and bobbed with fairy lights on every limb. There were already flower beds and lush green grass. What could a sprinkling of Fertility do?

The woman removed her shoes, glanced at Alwyn, then strode past the fire. About ten feet beyond it, she stopped and started wiggling her butt.

We laughed because she knew we were watching, but then she lifted her hem to her knees and showed us the movement was necessary to shimmy her feet into the ground. The earth under our own feet rumbled low, like an old man chuckling into his coffee. The sound died when the grass reached halfway up her calves.

She crouched close to the ground, like an animal, and punched her fingers through the grass into the soil beneath. Then she laughed.

All around the pond, the earth rolled and shook off the grass, leaving a solid ring of soil a few feet wide. Out of the soil, plants and flowers sprouted, expanded, bloomed. A hundred varieties. Different heights and textures. In the dim light, the colors were dark and rich, like jewels.

In the distance, apples began thumping on the orchard floor.

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