Just like Lula’s apparition, my mom flickers. Unlike Lula, she
doesn’t stay. I run to her open arms but a shadow appears behind her.
I can hear her shout my name once before she vanishes. My shaking
hands close around air, and I can feel the magic pounding up from the
pit of my belly. That’s my magic .
And it wants out. I listen to the heartbeat of the ground. It
whispers a welcome. My magic builds in me like a song, and I let it
play along my skin.
Listen , the little voice tells me.
What am I listening for? There is only a meadow full of laughter
and cheer.
Look , the little voice says.
What am I looking for? There are my friends and the adas. There
was a woman there. She was wearing roses. I felt like I knew her. I
felt like…
“Encantrix.” Agosto calls for me, walking on powerful hooves. He
takes my hand and helps me stand. As the sun and moon set, the meadow
is bathed in firelight. “Are you well?”
“I’m better than well,” I say.
“I wanted to give you one last gift before you carry on with your
journey.”
He hands me a wine goblet and offers me his arm. This time the
wine isn’t bitter, and the roses coat my senses. Nothing coats the
senses quite like roses , someone said.
“Journey?” My thoughts drift away like clouds. “I wouldn’t dream
of going anywhere.”
24
The bleeding heart
cannot survive the night.
- Bleeding Heart, Herbs, and Flowers, Book of Cantos
The dark brings out its nocturnal critters-owls with glowing, red
eyes. Marsupials scratching their way up trees. Fireflies by the
hundreds. The sky is painted the deepest blue, moonless, sunless, and
covered in shooting stars.
Every time I blink, I see something new. Agosto leads me back to
the center of the meadow, where a white fire erupts. There’s a great
cheer, followed by music. A band of adas play instruments made of
hollow branches and shimmering cobwebs. Agosto spins me in place, our
fingers sparking with magic. Wine sloshes over the rim of my cup, and
I bring my hand to my lips to lick every falling drop.
This is what a party is supposed to feel like , I think.
The Meadowkin and my friends gather around. Agosto bows in front
of me and pulls me into a dance. I never dance. I never liked it
before. A hazy memory sifts through my crowded thoughts: Lula and Rose
dancing circles around me, too little and too happy to care about
looking foolish. They would love this place. They would love to see me
happy.
“There’s somewhere I have to be,” I say.
“I will get you there,” Agosto tells me. His large hands close
around my waist and lift me into the air. “But first, there is someone
who wishes to dance with you.”
Agosto bows again, winking at someone behind me. He holds his
palms out and a flute appears. It twists at the ends like vines of ivy
and has dozens of little holes. He brings it to his wine-stained lips
and blows. I can’t imagine how something so delicate can make such a
powerful sound, but it does.
“You owe me a dance,” Rishi says, tapping my shoulder.
My insides tickle, like the moment you plunge down a roller
coaster. I walk around her in a circle. She rests one of her hands on
her hip, her weight shifted to the side, all attitude. The gem of her
nose ring winks at me from every angle. My little magpie.
“Would you accept a fairy fiesta to make up for the Ghoul Ball?” I
hold out my hand. I’ve never felt this bold in my whole life. It’s
like the magic is pulling the strings and I’m just allowing it.
Rishi shrugs a shoulder playfully. Her black wing looses a handful
of feathers. Something in my mind clicks, and I reach out with my
power. Rishi gasps as the wings bind together, longer and fuller.
“Oh, Alex!” She spreads her arms wide and jumps on me.
I ignore the twinge in my spine where the recoil grips me like a
vice. The throng of dancing Meadowkin spin and glide around us. It’s a
chaotic waltz, everyone moving together but separately around the
flames.
Rishi twists her hands in the air. The long, dark waves of her
hair sway over her shoulders. Her skirt billows when she spins, and
when I look at her, I consider that magic can be a beautiful thing.
Overgrown dandelions perk up from the ground, like they wait for
the cover of darkness before showing themselves. I reach for one. Hold
it up to my lips and blow. The glowing white seeds disperse in tiny
bursts of light.
“I could stay here forever,” I say. “My power feels different
here. It feels right . I’ve never had that before.”
The music slows like a caress. Rishi takes my face in her hands.
Her long, black lashes create spidery shadows down her cheeks. Her
midnight eyes flick down to my lips, and when she sighs, I know she
was eating peaches. My heartbeat multiplies, like there’s a tiny heart
at the end of all my fingers and toes, between my clavicles, inside my
ears, and at the tip of my nose.
“Hey!” Nova’s cheery, booming voice cuts across the meadow. He
zigzags between the fairy people. He slings his arm around our necks.
Rishi’s face scrunches up, irritated.
“Ladybird, where have you been?” He grabs me around my waist and
lifts me into the air.
When he tries to go for Rishi, she spins around and says, “I’m
going to get us more wine.”
“What’s gotten into you?” I ask him.
Nova’s playful. He pinches my cheek and seems to be dancing to a
rhythm in his own head. In the firelight, his bipolar eyes look like
they’re glowing.
“Isn’t this great?” he asks. “It’s like Christmas dinner. Not at
my house, but probably at your house. My Christmas dinner is a grilled
cheese and tomato sandwich. Some years, I put bacon on it. Maybe, if I
wish it, the magic tree table will give it to me. I’ll make one for
you. It’ll change your life. We can share with Rishi, but I don’t
think she likes me very much.”
“Pardon.” An ada with a blue face and silver hair bumps into Nova.
She clutches her stomach and makes a run for the line of trees, a rank
smell trailing behind her.
Look , a little voice whispers in my ear.
I shut my eyes and try to focus. My mind feels like cotton. Cotton
candy. Pretty cotton candy, pink and fluffy and melty on my tongue.
“Earth to Alex,” Nova says, squeezing my nose.
I slap his hand away. “What?”
“Look at me,” he says. Maybe Nova was the voice I heard just now.
Maybe I’m imagining things. “Look at what the meadow is doing to me.”
Nova holds his arms out. The black burn marks I mistook for
tattoos are changing. His glossy eyes are full of hope. “They’re
getting smaller. Can you believe that? This means I might have a
chance.”
“What do you mean ‘a chance’?”
His smile falls, and he jerks back, like he can’t believe he just
said that. “I-I can’t remember.”
Look harder! the voice yells.
I whip around to search for the source when a cold splash hits my
face. Red berry wine trickles down my neck. I wipe it out of my eyes
and spit the droplets that make their way into my mouth.
The music dies, replaced by whispers. Hundreds of eyes turn to
stare at me.
“What the hell was that?” Nova turns to Rodriga. The salamander
girl throws her goblet on the ground.
I hold up my hand to Nova. This isn’t his fight. It’s mine.
“Come on, encantrix,” Rodriga says. “Let’s see that power fly.”
“What’s your problem?” A dark coil of energy wraps itself around