I angled straight down and dropped through the broken greenhouse roof, intending the broom to level off at the base of the huge Strangler Fig tree. We landed.
Goliath smoothed his suit as he stood. The fairy shot, which resembled a barbed toothpick, was still stuck in his cheek. He jerked it loose, swore, and announced, “We can’t stay here.”
“Duh.” I could hear the alarm buzzing in the hallways beyond the area.
“Incoming!”
As we scurried under the tree, I realized the steel structure and the iron mesh in the glass panes would keep the fairies out, but standing under the hole open to the sky made us easily accessible targets.
The fireball hit the edge of the gaping hole in the structure above us. Some sparks showered down, but mostly it stuck there and burned.
Strategically, I wasn’t sure why we were here. The fey could have flown and followed us in our retreat, so sheltering here had the merit of stopping pursuit. But now all they had to do was wait until the alarm brought human authorities who would escort us out—probably in handcuffs.
Was their plan to get the police to arrest us for breaking and entering? The discredit might amount to something, but how would that help them?
Into the darkness of the Costa Rican exhibit, Goliath called, “Master?” loud enough to be heard over the din of the alarm and the waterfall.
“Here.”
They were waiting on the other side of the waterfall. Goliath and I sprinted across the little wooden bridge. Well, Goliath sprinted. Sprinting in these boots was ridiculous and impossible. I walked quickly.
Menessos was huddling over Xerxadrea, and when I saw that her broom lay in two pieces beside them, my heart seemed to stop.
Her robes smoked like the mist that sometimes surrounded her when she had to climb stairs. But it lacked the guided quality it usually had.
I rushed to her side. When I saw how ashen her skin had become, my steps faltered.
“Perseph . . .” she said. The din of the waterfall right behind me made it hard to hear. So did a second set of alarms going off.
“I’m here, Eldrenne.” I crouched at her side. “Tell me, what can I do?”
“Seal the gateway. Seal the fey out of this world. The fire fairy . . . she’s gone mad.”
“What can I do to help you right now?”
“Nothing.”
“Eldrenne—”
“Fairy fire,” Xerxadrea said. She gestured at her robes. “Is not like regular fire.”
The fireball was meant for me. The charm had diverted it and it had hit her.
It was not mist floating around her; her robes were smoldering. The new alarms were smoke detectors. “Xerxadrea!” No! “I’m so sorry. The charm, it—”
“The fire fairy doesn’t miss. She knew what you had and adjusted her spell.”
“But—”
“I have foreseen this, child.”
“What? You knew?” She dived in. She took it knowingly? “Then why did you come?”
Her lips were blue, but twisted into a wry smile. “Better me than you.”
My throat tightened with a lump so big I could hardly breathe. I remembered her—in my cellar—saying the reverse about me being the Lustrata: “Better you than me.”
“Problem is,” she went on, “WEC’s going to blame you.” Her eyelids fluttered shut and for a second I feared the worst, but she opened them again. “Vilna most of all. But there’s a silver lining . . .”
“Eldrenne.” I could hear sirens. Police and fire would be here soon.
“I’d have reinstated you into my lucusi.”
“I know.” It hurt to say anything, my throat was constricted by that lump.
“I’d have kept you from being Bindspoken.”
My eyes stung, but those desperate tears didn’t fall. A cold, cold breath filled my lungs and seemed to ease the lump a bit. “I’ll stay ahead of them.” I squeezed her hand reassuringly. “We’re working on that already.”
“They can’t catch you. You’re too crafty.” She smiled, weakly. “Even now, I see your mantle . . . glowing soft around you like a nimbus. Don’t forget the silver lining.” She took a deep breath; her last. “Was my honor to know you both.”
“Oh, Xerx,” Menessos whispered.
“I’m crossing that bridge, Persephone. Hold my hand while this world fades.”
I am holding her hand. Can’t she feel it?
“Go, Xerxadrea,” Menessos whispered. “Linger here no more. Summerland’s gates are just across that bridge.” He sounded strong, not sad.
I took strength from his words, too. The lump in my throat faded and I found my voice. “The Lord and Lady are waiting, Xerxadrea. Into those bountiful arms, with you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Xerxadrea was gone.
She sacrificed herself for me.
I hadn’t known her for long, and though I genuinely liked her, we hadn’t grown very close. Yet all I knew was grief, the tightness in my chest and the profuse flooding of tears. I could think no thoughts. It hurt but letting the emotion out felt right, the release of it felt good. Then came the heat of Menessos’s touch on my arm.
“Come.” He pulled me to my feet. “We must go.”
“Can’t leave her.” She died to save me.
“We cannot take her, either. She will be identified and given to her own.”
I shook my head. “No.” It was cruel to leave her—
“Will the broom allow me to ride it, Persephone?” Goliath asked.
His tone and direct calling of my name snapped me back into myself, and into the realization that we weren’t out of danger yet. What remained of my grief was displaced. “I don’t know,” I said, wiping my face. “What are you thinking?”
“If it will hold me, I can wear the Eldrenne’s cape and fly out, diverting the fairies from you two making a real escape.” He held out his hand for my broom.
I gave it to him. He positioned it, then gingerly lowered his weight onto it. It did not rise, and wouldn’t hold him. He held it out to return it to me. “What do you want me to do, Master?”
“Wait,” I said.
I put my hand beside Goliath’s as he held the broom. “Awaken ye to life, and fly Goliath as he bids this night.” The broom tingled in my grip and the bristle end skittered toward his feet. “Take my cape,” I added, removing it from my shoulders, tugging it free from the velvet sling bag Xerxadrea had given me. “They’ll know they hit her, and the red one may mean more.”
I put it on him, hood up, and spied the opening above. I had an idea. “If I give you the Eldrenne’s robe, do you think you can cover that hole with it?” I pointed at the roofline.
“Why?”
“So the butterflies and birds don’t escape.”
“A waste of time,” he declared.
Menessos added, “This garden can import more birds and butterflies. I cannot as easily replace Goliath.”
“You’re right.” It was true; I conceded.
“Goliath, go up to the second level, stay hidden, and leave only once the police arrive, but before they see you. This will give us time to get into position. Hopefully, you’ll draw most of the fairies away, but I doubt all of them will follow.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Goliath,” I added, “that thing flies on intentions, so intend to go fast.”
He actually grinned and showed fang. “Good to know.”
Menessos and I left the rain forest section of the gardens, passing through the mirrored exit where people made sure no butterflies had landed on them and were in danger of riding out. We did not stop to check.
“What’s your plan?” I insisted.
“We have to get back downtown, where there are no trees to shelter the fairies from the effects of their allergies.”
If the blisters on Aquula had been any indication, their allergies to asphalt were immediately intense. They must have come straight down from the sky into the gardens and the abundance of vegetation there shielded them. Bad thing was, there were trees all over this area. “On foot?”