Page 37 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
Riordan doesn’t rise, only tilts his helmet back against the tree and sighs again. “What do you want, Witch? Come to put us under your spell?”
“You know very well that I can’t, thanks to the stars-damned Wizard. I’m here for one simple reason—I’m fucking bored.” His gaze has been fixed on Riordan, but it slants to me suddenly and my heart jumps at the dreadful intensity of those dark eyes. He smiles, his sharp eye-teeth glinting. “Kin-Slayer. I told you I’d be back for what’s mine. Come here.”
I know he can’t compel me to do anything, and yet I feel his voice, his will, tugging at my very bones. Maybe there’s an echo of his former compulsion ability still left in him. Or maybe I’m being lured by a hunger so deep I’ve scarcely dared to acknowledge it.
One step. I take one step toward him.
And then Jasper sets down Fiero and leaps up, planting his body between me and the West Witch. “Leave her alone,” he says firmly.
“How precious,” croons the Witch. “You havetwoguard dogs now. And how will you defend your lady, Scarecrow?” He moves nearer to Jasper, running his fingers over the crow tattoo on his chest. “You’re barely Fae at all. A little tracking magic, a few weak illusions—that’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? If you had intelligence to make up for the lack of strength and magic, that would be something, but there’s not much going on in your pretty blond head.” He flicks Jasper’s cheek with his sharp nails, and Jasper flinches, turning his face away from the Witch’s piercing gaze.
“What are you most afraid of, I wonder?” continues the Witch. “Oh, I’ve just had the most wonderful idea for a game. Let’s play, all of us, shall we? I’ll guess your deepest fears, and if I’m right, you’ll be plagued by those fears until you guess mine.”
“We can’t play games with you.” Riordan gets to his feet heavily, as if mustering the energy for a thread of hope is a monumental task. “We need to get Alice back.”
The Witch takes a dark glass marble from his pocket and tosses it once. “I’ll show you where she is, and then you’ll play my game.”
“No,” Riordan says.
“Are you quite sure? With this, we can see exactly what’s happening to her. Might set your heart at ease, if you’ve still got one in there.” The Witch bends, pretending to listen at Riordan’s breastplate. “Never had one myself. Hearts are such dreadful nuisances, don’t you think, Kin-Slayer? All that anxious ‘is this right’ or ‘is this wrong,’ worrying about kindness and loyalty and love—ugh.” He shudders. “A wretched business.”
Part of me understands what he’s saying. Echoes it, and affirms it. Throughout my life, fitting in, learning the moral and social rules, and pretending to function normally has been so damn exhausting. Letting it all go and not worrying about right and wrong, or the problems and pleasures of others, sounds utterly liberating.
“I am Unseelie, as you are,” says Riordan. “I am not kind. My loyalty and love belong to a rare few, and two of them are somewhere in this forest.”
“All the more reason to take a look.” The Witch spins the marble in his hand, and it grows to a ball the size of a melon, made of dark glass and swirling with formless shadows.
“That’s a scrying stone,” Riordan says.
“Indeed. A tool of witches like myself and my siblings, to help us keep an eye on our thralls. But it can be useful to spy on others as well. I can observe anyone, provided I remember their face and know their name.”
The West Witch holds the glass ball toward Riordan, grinning. The bastard has been watching us this whole time. Whenever he likes, he can spy on our group—onme.
“Don’t indulge him,” I say sharply, but Riordan is already leaning in, the eye-slits of his helmet angled toward the glossy surface. The shadows within the ball condense into a spiral, then fade, leaving behind an image of Alice and the monstrous beast who stole her away.
She’s naked, on all fours in a meadow, while the hulking monster ruts into her from behind. He’s less beastly than I expected—I can see the form of his Fae self beneath the fur, the fangs, and the panther-like aspect.
“See there, she’s perfectly fine,” says the West Witch. “Being thoroughly bred by a giant cat. Nothing to worry about.”
“Where is this?” Riordan grits out. “I have to get to them before he kills her.”
“Trying to go back on our deal? Naughty, naughty.” The Witch waggles a long green finger at Riordan. “You took a peek, and now you play the game. Though it isn’t as much fun when your worst fear is so easy to guess. Take another look.”
He lifts the glass ball closer to Riordan. The beast is still fucking Alice, but now she’s slowly coming apart, as if the seams of her flesh are ripping, revealing bloody swaths of red muscle and bulges of glistening organs. She’s screaming, too—a faint, hideous, garbled sound. And the beast is weeping as it fucks her—weeping, and crying out for help in the voice of a young male.
Riordan releases a cry of agony, transfixed to the vision.
The West Witch steps back, bringing the glass ball with him—but a translucent copy of the scene remains in midair before the motionless Riordan, as he watches it play over and over again. The air around Riordan is watery, wavy, as if we’re looking at him through the ripples on the surface of a pond.
He’s trapped within the illusion of his own worst fear, watching the torture of the two souls he loves most. I’m concerned and shocked, of course, but I’m mostly worried about myself. What will the West Witch show me?
“Stop it,” cries Jasper. “Stop tormenting him!” He turns to me, his blue eyes wet with tears. “Dorothy, do something.”
“You’re Fae. You fix it,” I say. “I’m tired of everyone relying on me for magic. Riordan should know that isn’t real—he heard the terms of the bargain. All he has to do is guess this green bastard’s real fear, and he’s free.”
“Correction—ifoneof you guesses it, you all go free,” interjects the Witch. “So very generous of me, isn’t it? Of course my motives are quite selfish—if I leave you all trapped in illusions, I’ll be bored again. So it’s in my best interest for you to find your way out—eventually.”
“You fiend.” Jasper’s fists tighten. “I won’t let you do this to the people who helped me.” And he leaps for the Witch, teeth bared.
