The Line
“Please,” I said. He turned the car in the opposite direction of the Mansion and zigzagged around so that he could circle the six closest squares.
As we neared Pulaski Square, he looked at me in the mirror again. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, handing me a small but beautifully wrapped package over the seat. “Your sister asked me to give this to you.”
“Thank you,” I said and took it from him. The box was covered in velvety midnight blue paper and tied with a single silver bow. I undid the bow and tugged open the box. On top was a note from Maisie. I unfolded it and read. “Even if you can’t be here with me, I’ll be able to feel your presence if you wear this.”
“Everything all right back there?” the driver asked.
“Yes. Everything is perfect,” I smiled up at him then took the necklace out from the box, kissing the beautiful stone that I recognized as azurite. Rounded and polished, it looked like a small globe of the world. As I slipped the chain around my neck, I closed my eyes and held the stone tightly in my hand, thinking of Maisie and sending her all my love.
When I opened my eyes, the driver was still looking at me in the rearview mirror, but his brown eyes had changed to a sapphire blue. The face beneath the driver’s cap had morphed into a completely different one. I’d know those eyes anywhere. That face. “Jackson?” I said, gasping.
“I don’t understand,” I said. He turned the car onto Barnard and sped across Liberty Street with the gas pressed to the floor. I screamed as he pulled into oncoming traffic.
He laughed as the vehicles passed right through our car—and us—without so much as a tickle. “Well, I’ll be glad to explain a few things to you. Starting with how we’re just a little out of sync with the world you’re used to right now. Those charms your buddy the golem set up for you ain’t gonna work here. And you can try and run away from me if you’d like, but you’ll never get home without me. See, I kind of like it here. We can see and hear what’s going on in the other world, but nothing and no one there can touch us. Unless that someone happens to be wearing the mate of that necklace you just put around your pretty little neck. Care to guess who that might be?”
“Maisie,” I said, once again astounded by my own stupidity, my willingness to be deceived.
“That’s right, my girl,” he said, continuing to drive. The familiar landmarks we were passing surprised me—we were heading back in the direction we’d come from. “Your sister set you up.”
“But why?” I asked.
“That’s a bit of a long story, but I guess we got the time for it. Unless you’d rather I smear blood on your head and toss you to the shadows like you and Jilo did to me?” He looked back over his shoulder at me again.
“All I ever did was love you, Jackson. That’s what we did to Wren, not you…we had to stop him, ” I said.
“You just don’t get it, do you, girl?” he asked. “I am Wren.”
“You’re Wren?” I asked, completely thrown.
“That’s right,” he chirped in Wren’s falsetto, before his voice broke back into Jackson’s range. “And thanks to your sister, I was finally able to break out of that way too small shell. Maisie helped me grow.” He winked at me. “Of course that’s what any good woman should help her man do, but in this case, I mean it literally.”
As I sat back in wonder, we pulled up in front of my house. It looked fairly quiet from the front, but I knew a world of activity was going on inside. He stopped the car and got out. “Shall we go back in and say hello to the family?” he asked. Flinging my door open, he yanked me out roughly, doing his best to hurt me. I didn’t resist; I let myself coast on his energy, going with the flow instead of fighting.
We walked straight through the door without stopping to open it. I found myself wishing that I’d never told my family that Jilo had linked her realm to the linen closet. If the portal had still existed, I might have been able to use it to escape. The thought of escaping to Jilo’s realm instead of from it struck me as funny, and in spite of my fear, or maybe because of it, I began to laugh.
My laughter dried up under his hateful gaze. Iris and Oliver passed in front of us, so close that I could have reached out and touched them. I started to call out to them, but the strength of Jackson’s grip made me think twice. It was his turn to laugh. “Go ahead,” he said, shoving me aside. “Scream! Nobody’s going to hear you.”
He jumped right in front of Oliver’s face. “Hey, faggot! Can your niece get a little help here?” Oliver passed directly through him, and Jackson doubled over with laughter. “I guess we’ll have to take that as a no.” He pushed me into the library through the foyer wall, and I landed at the foot of the love seat. “Interesting, isn’t it? You can walk right through walls, but the floor is still holding you up. That, Mercy, is because you are working magic. You’re so sure that the floor is going to support you that it does. Your magic is what’s holding you up.” He reached down and tugged me up. “Have a seat if you want. I’m sure your magic will let you, and you’ll look a little less ridiculous than you do right now.”
I bent my knees until I could feel the material of the love seat underneath me. It felt tangible and real, and it held my weight. “You’re wrong,” I said, despite all evidence to the contrary. “I have no power. I can’t do magic.”
“Oh, spare me the sad tale,” he bellowed. “And let me tell you a little story of my own.” He dragged a chair in front me and straddled it, putting us nearly nose to nose. The eyes looking out of his face weren’t human, the blue in them cold flames.
“Once upon a time,” he began, “there was a very wicked witch named Ginny and a whore named Emily. Now the whore slept with a whole bunch of men. But only one of them was special to her. Problem was, this man already belonged to her sister. Now I know this might sound familiar to you, but you just hang in there with me.” He winked at me. “The whore knew that her sister’s husband wanted children, and for some reason her sister had only managed to give him one. Of course you and I both know that the wicked witch had put an end to the babies, because she was afraid that the children born from of the combination of these particular bloodlines could overpower her, reuniting the thirteen families and turning her back into the nothing she knew herself to be. When the wicked witch learned that the whore had gotten herself knocked up, she bided her time. She pretended to believe that the father of the bastard children was the husband of the whore’s other sister, but she knew the truth all along.
“She knew that the boy born from the legitimate union was powerful but that he posed no real threat. The one who’d been foreseen was a girl. All sugar and spice and sweet and pink as you please. Well, when the witch realized that the whore was going to give birth to two girls, she started to pay a lot of attention. She sensed that the first one wasn’t going to be much of a problem. She had power, all right, but not nearly enough to rock the boat. The second one, though, well, she was something special, even for a Taylor witch. Ginny knew that this was the one whose coming had been foretold, and she was not about to let her live to see the light of day.