Wings of Ebony Page 2

  “Wake up, Tash. Come on, wake up.”

  She bats her eyes. Sounds of crumpling fiberglass crack through the air. My spell is buckling. My hand trembles, the heat from my wrists simmers.

  “I-I can’t hold it.” Oof. A jolt of pain radiates through me and chaos erupts in blurred motion. The car she was just in skids across the intersection and plants into a pole.

  But the driver… the driver just inside is gone.

  Wait… what… but how?

  The driver of the white car hangs out the window, neck crooked backward and streaked with blood. I turn my face away. Tasha pulls herself up on shaky elbows, blinking in my direction.

  “R-Rue?” She looks at me and I cover the warm stones in my wrists.

  “Rue!” Her voice cracks and nothing matters anymore.

  I pull her in to me. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

  Cars swerve to a stop, narrowly missing the pile of crushed metal. A man in a navy windbreaker emerges with a phone to his ear.

  “Help will be here soon,” I say. She weeps against my chest, a gash on her forehead crying tears of blood. I hold her tight—tight like Moms would do.

  “It’s over,” I whisper, refusing tears trying to break free. “You’re okay. I’m here. Everything’s okay.”

  The crowd nearby clamors over one another for a look at the wreck, when a sweet chemical scent wafts past. Gasoline.

  No. Shit. No!

  “W-we have to move.” Even on the sidewalk we’re too close. I fumble for her arm, pulling it over my shoulder. She’s heavy. So much heavier than I remember. “We have to get up.” The gasoline smell stings my nostrils and words stick to the roof of my mouth.

  “Tash, we have to get farther away!” Her head bobs like she’s woozy, her forehead wound gushing faster.

  Magic. Move her with magic.

  A cluster of eyes cling to us; everybody’s watching, recording. I-I can’t. The time spell wore off. People are watching! I can’t use magic with them all looking. I—

  The chemical smell grows stronger and a flicker of fire dents my periphery.

  Do something!

  B-but people are around…

  I-I… I have to. I can’t lose her.

  The words are fuzzy in my head, and the black stones fused to my wrists swirl with warmth, but nothing sputters from my hand. Focus. What are the words? I can’t think. I pull hard from my center and my wrists glow hot as the black balls fused to my skin heat like a skillet. My words are muddled, but I feel it. I feel my magic. Energy rushes through me, ripping from my palms, a light sprouting like rays of sun.

  “Shee’ye ya fuste.” The light shifts into a wall transparent as glass between us and the crash, rippling like droplets of water. The ground shudders and clouds of orange blaze explode, slamming against the invisible barrier. Jolts of pain pinch my spine, but I keep my hands still. If I let go, the flames will swallow us. She moans.

  “Tash? Stay with me. I’m here. It’s going to be okay.”

  She hugs me, nestling her fingers against my skin. I close my eyes and focus on the rhythm of her heartbeat pressed to my chest. Moms used to rock me back and forth and hum when I was little and scared. So I rock.

  Holding her stirs a heat inside of me, brighter and fiercer than the sizzling flames popping just a ways away. Sirens moan in the backdrop and orange light colors my eyelids. I don’t want to open them. Not yet. My wrists chill as the fire and magic around us fizzles out and a gust of smoke assaults my head.

  She’s okay. We’re okay.

  My wristwatch buzzes. It’s Bri.

  Bri: What did you do?! Patrol is coming. Run!

  CHAPTER 2

  WHEN I WAS LITTLE, I got caught stuffing some cookie bars in my pocket at the corner store. A man with an overgrown beard posted up outside the store had asked me if I had any change so he could get something to eat. I didn’t. And he looked hungry, real real hungry. So I slipped inside LuLu’s, giving my usual wave. Lu didn’t even look up from his paper as I stuffed some Fig Newtons, the little snack-size ones, in my pocket. Seconds from the door, Lu’s voice stopped me dead in my tracks. “I’m calling the cops if you don’t put that back.”

  I cried, begging him not to say nothing. I put it back, but he called Moms anyway. She whooped my ass into next week.

  I kept thinking, I was trying to help.

  But it didn’t matter. The law is the law.

  All that mattered is I bucked up against the rules. And for that, I had hell to pay.

  Déjà vu.

  My head swims. Everything’s hazed and cloudy. The eyes—so many eyes. They’re all staring from the sidewalk. Everyone’s whispering to each other, their phones out, mouths open.

  What have I done?

  They saw me. Shit. I gotta get the hell out of here.

  Tasha’s leaning in to me and I hold on tighter. Someone pulls my arm and I jerk away. No one’s taking her from me. Not now that she knows I’m here, alive and okay. Not today. They pull harder and wailing sirens scratch my ears.

  She lets go first, carried off by someone in a uniform.

  “No,” I say, reaching. “Tash, come back.” The words are heavy on my tongue and jumbled in my head. “I can take you home. I gotta tak—” I stagger to my feet, an earthquake rattling inside my skull.

  What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I so woozy? “T-Tash—”

  “Ma’am?” A firm hand grabs my arm and I pull away. Hard.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “I’m here to help, ma’am.” His pale cheeks crack a smile, spreading his oversize mustache. “Listen, ma’am. Could you step over here and tell us what you saw?”

  Cops. My neck stiffens. He pulls harder and I come, staggering.

  “Have you been drinking, miss?” he asks.

  “No!” Flames erupt from my fingertips. I shove them in my pocket. My wrists flash, from searing hot to ice cold a second later and back again. What’s wrong with me? My magic is out of control!

  “Miss. Cooperate.” The cop shakes my arm, harder this time. I try to pull away, to say something, but I can’t think. I can hardly speak. Tasha. Where’s Tasha? And the guy in the car? I glance at the wreck and the driver’s side of the car Tasha was just in is smashed to pieces—the driver, nowhere to be found. I grip the officer’s arms, more to hold myself up than anything else. I have to make him understand.

  “There was a guy.” The words are like chalk on my tongue. “Faded jeans. Tucked white button-up. H-he… knew somehow. Like he was trying to get her—” Sounds fade into a loud buzzing and everything’s black. My heaving breaths resound like a gong in my head.

  Gong.

  Gong.

  Then a flood of color rushes at me as the world blinks back into focus. Something is wrong. I’ve done magic a hundred times since living in Ghizon. The only difference today was… I gape at my hands. Touching her did this? What else could explain it?

  “You were saying?” The cop widens his stance, folding his arms.

  “I—” Gong. Gong.

  My knees wobble, but I lock them in place as a stranger’s raspy voice rings in my ear. “Lot of funny stories from the witnesses. Stuff you wouldn’t believe.” She points at me. “What’s the story with this one?”

  Voices. Gong. Gong. So many voices.

  I rake my fingers through my scalp. It stings like fire. “Listen to me!” I pull the officer’s sleeves to mine and his back straightens. Careful Don’t piss him off.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and I can see the man from the car in my mind’s eye. His pale skin and crisp ironed shirt. He wore faded black jeans and hair pulled back in a ponytail. His eyes were light-colored and tats peeked from the collar of his shirt. And his car. The way he angled it in the intersection and stopped, a surly grin on his face when he looked my way.

  “There was a man. A-a man in a car.” I point. “O-over there. He was right there! He lured my sister to his car and h-he knew somehow that something bad was going to happen. H-he�
��”

  The cop turns to Miss Raspy Voice. “I don’t know. Around these parts, no telling what she’s on.” He turns to me. “There’s no man in the car over there, ma’am.”

  He’s not listening. Why am I even trying?

  “He was just there, I swear.” Water. I need water.

  “Get her seen over there.” He points toward an ambulance. “Run her prints, too.” He lets me go and I stumble. I need to get out of here. Tasha’s perched on the edge of the ambulance talking to a blond paramedic with a clipboard. I will myself over, one foot in front of the other. The gash on her head isn’t gushing anymore. She’s sitting up, eyes open, talking, a cup in her hands. She spots me and her eyes say more than any words could.

  She knows. Memory transference.

  She knows everything.

  I plow into her legs more roughly than I intend to and Blondie gives me a look.

  “Sorry,” I manage. “I—this is my sister.”

  Tasha nods and Blondie gestures for me to go ahead.

  “T, are you okay?”

  She nods. “All this time I thought you were dead. Gone. I don’t know.” Her finger traces the rim of her water cup. “I… you…”

  I reach for her cup and she lets me take it. The water is cool going down my throat. I blink; her face is clearer, in focus. Not one hundred percent, but better.

  She whispers. “The place you live… it’s—”

  “I’m sorry to break this up,” Blondie says. “We need to get her back to be seen. She looks alright but we’ll want to run some tests. Are you able to ride with?”

  “I-I can’t ride.” I tug at my sleeves, suddenly hyper aware of my secret. “I—I gotta go.”

  Each word curves my sister’s lips farther downward.

  I hug her, squeezing harder than life itself. “I’ll be back to check on you.”

  “When?” Tears dangle on her lashes.

  The hole in my chest shudders with pain. “Soon.” I don’t know if it’s true. I want it to be. I’ll do my damndest to make sure it is. “I—please, please just lay low.” I hold her face in my hands. “No strangers. Fam only.”

  She nods and flicks away a tear.

  “Moms raised a diamond.” I lace my fingers between hers.

  She squeezes. “And diamonds don’t crack.”

  The paramedic pulls her backward, breaking our grasp. Leaving her here like this isn’t how I imagined today going. As the doors close, she opens her palm and the heart pendant shines. She smirks, holding it to her heart as the doors click shut. A tinge of warmth fills the hole inside my heart. I knew she’d love it.

  Around us, flocks of police officers flit back and forth around the crumpled metal car, checking on bystanders, jotting down notes, talking into their walkie-talkies. They saw me… what I did to save Tasha. Men, women, kids are staring from every corner of the block, pointing, talking, as the City Laws take notes.

  “Miss, I’m going to need you to come with me to answer some questions.” The fingers cupped around my shoulder are firm. Almost painful. The warmth I just felt dissolves at the familiar sight. I’m face to face with the man’s telltale grayish pale skin; he almost looks like some white dude in need of a tan. But I know that complexion.

  Patrol—from Ghizon.

  Here.

  In my world.

  On my block.

  “You’ll need to come with me. Now.” It’s not a request. My fingers twitch for my watch. Maybe I can flick it on fast enough to zap back “home.” Veins pulse at the corners of his eyes. I don’t know his face, but he’s Ghizoni. They’re all the same, with their pallid skin. I can’t see it, but he has a secret fused to his wrists—circles of onyx embedded in his flesh.

  “I…”

  “Sir, do you have clearance to be here?” The city cop pops a notebook closed.

  A plastic smile splits the Ghizoni’s face as he greets the cop. “No problem, officer. Special unit investigating what happened here. Just a few questions for the young lady.”

  “You got a badge?”

  “Of course.” He turns toward me like he’s reaching into his back pocket. If looks could kill, start typing my eulogy now. “Shut up,” he mouths, waving one hand in front of the other. There, in the palm of his hand, where there was just air, a black leather rectangle adorned with a gold crest glints in the sun. I bite my tongue to keep from gasping.

  The cop nods. “Very good. We’ll need a few words with her when you’re done.” He ventures off, and I don’t know if I feel relieved or more panicked.

  Patrol turns to me. “Where were we?”

  Definitely more panicked.

  “You’re in violation of using magic outside Ghizoni borders.” He slips a silver restraint from his pocket and leans in for a whisper. “Not to mention illegal use of a transport spell to the human world in the first place.”

  I hide my wristwatch arm behind me. Bri won’t take the fall for this too.

  “Come along without making a scene or this will get far worse. For you. For everyone.”

  There’s no way out of this. No way good.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.” Darkness creeps at the edges of my vision and I sway. But blinking quickly seems to help. I think. I hope.

  Patrolman tilts his head. He noticed.

  He pulls down his shades. “Who did you touch?” He spits words like they’re laced with poison.

  “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about. I ain’t do nothing.” Do I have rights in Ghizon like here? Not that that shit matters half the time.

  He glances both ways. “I said—”

  If Patrol in Ghizon are anything like the Laws here, talking won’t do shit.

  He reaches for me.

  And I run.

  My feet fly across the pavement, my block a blur of color. I dart across the street, hiking over a garbage can, knocking it down behind me. My heart pounds faster than my feet. Footsteps echo at my back.

  An alleyway between the laundromat and Klassy Kuts barber shop opens up ahead and I pound the ground harder. I saved my sister’s life and somehow that’s a crime. My lungs burn and my thighs cry in pain as I run. Because that’s just what you do when Laws are after you. Guilty or not, you just run.

  My wrist vibrates and I can’t manage a look. Maybe I can lose them, get back to Ghizon, act like I’ve been there the whole time. They don’t have shit on me. They can’t prove anything. Would they even have to?

  The sound of my heaving breaths echo off the towering apartments around me. I chance a glance over my shoulder and all is clear. So I stop to catch my breath and check my watch.

  Bri: Dorms are closed. Meet at my house?

  I try to shoot off a reply when a hand as cold as death clamps around my wrist.

  “I said come with me.” His silver restraints coil around my wrists like a braided rope, then harden into shiny metal. “The Chancellor intends to see you. Now.” Patrolman lifts his sleeves, and the orb in his wrist glows. With a winding swish of his hand, the cuffs on my wrists cinch tight. I hold my chin up. He won’t see me struggle.

  “Fine, take me to see him. I did the right thing. I saved someone’s life.”

  “A human life.” He chortles. “And you think that matters?”

  CHAPTER 3

  IT’S CALLED A CHASER. What you’re feeling.” Patrolman leads me, cuffs first, down the alley, deeper into the shadows. “The lightheadedness, dry mouth. Happens because you’re Bound. The first time you touch a human.” He loops his arm into mine and presses his hands together and I stare confused.

  “Don’t you read? Go to class?”

  Yeah, asshat, I do. “Uh, a year of magic school doesn’t make me an expert on the topic.” Excuse me for missing out on the last century of how shit works.

  He ignores the snide remark. His fingers tremble as a ball of light sparks between them, unsettling the dust in the alleyway around us. “When one of the Sacred Statutes is broken the first time,” he says, raising his voice
over the rumbling vortex in his hands, “touching humans being the most serious of them… the perp’s magic backfires, almost like a poison emitted into your bloodstream.”

  A perp? Is that what I am now?

  “Unless you get an antidote.” Something he does with the corners of his mouth makes me doubt an antidote is in my future. They would let me die for touching someone? My own sister?

  “It’s supposed to slow the perp down until we find them.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then”—the alley glows blinding white, his magic dissolving the faded brick walls around us—“you reap what you sow.”

  I part my lips to speak, but he mutters the transport spell. The air swallows us, and in a blip, we’re gone.

  * * *

  Over the Ethiopian highlands, south of the Serengeti, thousands of nautical miles off the coast of Madagascar, where the Atlantic and Indian Oceans meet is a hidden land I ain’t never seen on a map or in some history book. But I’ve slipped beyond that invisible curtain of open ocean before, to a hidden place nestled at the base of Yiyo Peak, a mountain so tall it kisses the afternoon sun. It is Ghizon, home to a clan of magic-wielders. Self-proclaimed gods. Their magic gives them that stink of uppity.

  For several moments I feel squished all over, like I’ve forced my entire body into skinny jeans several sizes too small. Waves of memories of being whisked away to Ghizon the first time, when Moms’s blood was barely cold, threaten to drown me. The pops of gunshots, her open-eyed stare… it all comes rushing back. I don’t want to relive it.

  As my feet set on the ground in Ghizon, the past calls to me.

  And I give in.

  CHAPTER 4

  Eleven Months Ago

  THE SUN SHOULDN’T BE allowed to shine every day. Some days it needs to sit its ass down somewhere and let it be gray.

  In my pocket, I roll the worn edge of a photograph of Moms—one of the few things I had time to grab—back and forth between my fingers. I tug my jacket tighter over me and take an incremental step forward. The line for Sorting and Binding—finding out which caste I’m assigned to and having magic fused to my skin—isn’t super long, but waiting isn’t my idea of fun. Not ever, but especially not now.