Chapter 53

Hayden found Lin on the beach, half buried by the rocky barrier around the port. Her body was paler than Hayden had ever seen it. In death, the steady breaking of waves finally gave her a proper bath.

There was no telling exactly what injury had caused it—dark marks around her neck, or maybe other bruises elsewhere. Maybe it was none of those, and instead the empty glass bottle vanished into the rocks beside her.

Hayden sat on her knees in the sand beside the wall, staring at the remains of her old best friend. Water broke around an invisible barrier, shifting up and down without ever splashing her borrowed jacket. The oversized military coat slipped off one shoulder, but she didn’t care. That didn’t matter, because nothing mattered.

She clutched Liz to her chest, clinging to her like a desperate lifeline. Her daemon would make this make sense—her daemon would wake her up from this nightmare, and send her back to the way things ought to be.

She’s not burned, Liz thought, occasionally slipping out of her grip to inspect the remains, then zipping back. "I don’t think this was Fae. Smells… like she was here all night."

Eleanor watched from further up. She retained her dignified shaymin form, conscious of the many eyes watching this exchange. Hayden couldn’t stay out here for much longer, or her sister would melt in front of everyone. Eleanor didn’t deserve that, not after being there for her family during that awful attack.

For once, she had no comfort to give.

The air shifted, and something cracked from beside her. Ilene appeared inside her shield, floating until she reached Hayden’s resting place. There was someone with her, a dark, struggling form she dragged through the air with little regard for their comfort. Her power suppressed their every sound, until only strained gasps remained.

"I believe you may be interested in this, lady." She gestured, and the struggling lump dropped to the ground. A man, with a rough daemon pooling around him like goo. Not a ditto though—that was muk, fouling the air with her presence.

He had the tattoos of a sailor, and the alcohol stink of someone who couldn’t hold down a post on any reputable ship.

Worse, too—something festered under his fear, raw and primal. "This man is responsible. I examined his memories to confirm it. I could replay them for you—but I believe that would not be wise."

Hayden nodded tearfully. She wiped the sand from her face, smearing it with soot. She didn’t care. "Why did you do it?" she asked, voice shaking. "Lin—never hurt anyone. She made sure everyone had enough to eat, even when the fishing was bad and the harbor froze. Made sure the little ones had a place by the fire. Why her?"

He gasped and gurgled, struggling in vain to form words.

Ilene cleared her throat, and the man stopped moving. "Simple reasons, lady. Your friend had… unusual wealth. He saw her distributing items of clothing to a group of children in a storm drain not far from here. The rest… you may infer."

Hayden clenched one hand into a fist, so hard her nails dug into her skin. "Why did you bring him?"

Ilene shrugged. "The constable gave him to me. Our evidence is accepted, the sentence pronounced. He will die, in whatever way pleases you."

Hayden gestured, commanding powers she had only feebly mastered. This time they came clearly—a crack of air, sand exploding past her in all directions. A heavy shovel appeared on the sand before her. Frost condensed on its blade, freezing solid.

"Lin deserves… a grave," she said. "I want him to dig it. Can you find me somewhere? And… a ponyta. That was… her…"

Ilene nodded obediently. "As you request. Is that all? His life is yours, the vengeance is yours. I could make recommendations."

Hayden floated around him, her tail dragging limply through the wet sand. This stink was more than alcohol and seaweed, more than poverty.

"Was Lin the only person he killed?" she asked.

The sailor started screaming, sharp enough that a muffled wheeze escaped whatever Ilene had done to silence him. He pressed both hands to his forehead, as though that could somehow stop what she was doing. His daemon frothed and bubbled in the sand, as trapped as he was.

Then it was over, and he collapsed into the sand, whimpering in pain. Blood dribbled from his ears, out his nose and mouth. Ilene was not gentle here.

"She was not," Ilene finished. "He chose his targets well. Those who wouldn’t be missed."

"My friends too. Other kids."

"Among others," Ilene agreed. "He fostered an identity as the town drunk. None believed he presented any real danger. They were wrong."

Hayden turned her back on him. "I don’t want to… be involved. Just a grave, please. And… send my sister somewhere to rest. She can’t keep this up all night."

"As you wish." Ilene snapped her fingers, and Eleanor vanished. "What of the body?"

Hayden lowered her best friend into the ground with the last feeble flickers of her psychic powers.

Her whole body shook as she did it, as though her abilities might fail at any moment. They didn’t. Not while she shoved in the dirt after her, or deposited the ponyta statue as its headstone.

Ilene had already carved two names there, by ancient custom. A daemon left no corpse to bury—hence the stone.

"She would be proud to have so rich a monument," Ilene said, after a long silence. "Your friend. I believe the poor prefer wooden figurines, don’t they?"

Hayden didn’t touch the flaming horse. Liz did, rubbing up against his head, cleaning the dirt away from its limbs with her tail. This was no proper graveyard, but an empty patch of hill overlooking all of Sunyshore. Hayden had eaten many picnics up here with her family, when only free recreation was open to them.

She would never do that again either, not now that her family was gone. Gone, but… safe.

"She was a year older than me. Fourteen. She deserved… more."

"Yes," Ilene agreed. The steward of Mew House had not brought back the murderer. Without needing to say a word about it, Hayden felt a simple finality from her on that score. Sunyshore was a little safer now. All it cost was one more life.

"It’s my fault. The money she had… that was me. I gave her some, so she would keep my secret about being in town. But bad people found out anyways, and she died. I just wanted my family to be safe."

Ilene did not hold her as others did. Her expression remained as flat as ever. "Every day we choose the path of our lives, mistress. You did not choose evil for Sunyshore. I do not believe you could."

She brushed away the dirt from Hayden’s face with a cloth, before tucking it away in her vest. "Was your family slain as well, child? I searched among the wreckage, but found no bodies."

"No." She sniffed, but no more tears came. Hayden had no moisture left in her body for crying. "They’re safe. Not here—far away."

"I would ask you how," she said. "But I suspect I already know. It might be for the best if you tell me nothing. For their own safety, perhaps none in Mew House should know where you’ve hidden them. A shame about the new wardrobe. You seemed so excited."

She gestured, taking both of Hayden’s hands in hers. They lifted up into the air, beside the lonely grave. "I will not make this a lesson. You’ve been through enough tonight."

"No," Hayden snapped, suddenly sharp. "Make it a lesson, please. Show me everything."

Time passed. Hayden returned to her bedroom in Mew House—now one of the only safe places left for her in the world. Her family wasn’t waiting there, and they didn’t start sending letters from their new hideout. By some definitions, they weren’t anywhere.

Hayden didn’t tell Holland right away—she still wasn’t sure how much she could tell him. He would be much safer not knowing where they had gone. But if she didn’t tell him anything, he might think they were dead completely. Her older brother deserved better than that.

Lots of people deserved better. Hayden found a woodcarver to make her a ponyta, exactly the kind that might be buried with someone who couldn’t afford a statue. She found a place for him on her desk.

Not the way I wanted to bring you with me, she thought, during her lowest moments. There was no one to talk to anymore, no one who remembered her friend. No one but Liz to care.

Without Julian to call on her, there was only one task that mattered to Hayden now: training.

Fae was so much stronger than her and Liz, so that any comparison between them was impossible. He defeated them easily the last time. If they saw each other again, it would be different. She would be ready.

Mew House had several shrines, arranged by type in a ring with Psychic in the center. She spent much of her time there—but more touring the others. If she got too comfortable learning a water-type move one day, she spent the next few with fire.

Yet two types were different, missing from the protected circle. Ghost and Dark had no teachers, or place to learn them. No one would tell Hayden why—but she didn’t press. There were plenty of other things to learn, and not enough time to possibly understand it all.

Sometimes Eleanor came with her, studying for a few hours with dedication not too different from her own. Yet the ditto couldn’t possibly stick with one form long enough to keep her company. Eventually she would leave, stumbling back to their rooms in exhaustion and leaving Hayden to her discipline.

She was too focused on her work to notice the room emptying around her. She practiced a series of harsh powerful forms with Liz, striking back and forth at each other while balanced on a narrow wooden beam above a pond.

It wasn’t entirely her fault she didn’t see—even a slight gap in her focus, and the daemon would spring, soaking her through in a second. Besides, sensing Aura was an entirely new ability, one that took a lifetime of practice to master. She couldn’t use it to read thoughts as effortlessly as her own powers.

"How long are you gonna keep doing this stuff?" someone asked. Hayden froze, gripping the beam with both bare feet to keep from falling. Liz stopped too, long enough to look at the speaker.

Julian floated beside the pond, with Aerie bobbing up and down behind him. Even he was not immune from the requirement to wear a ceremonial robe while inside this sacred place.

Every other fighting-type was gone. Only one person was in the dome with them now—Ilene, blocking the doorway.

"Long enough to get strong," she answered. She jumped, securing herself atop the beam. Liz hopped far higher, approaching Aerie. At her far greater size, the other daemon kept some distance, just out of Liz’s reach. Not that there was any reason to restrict contact between the two—no taboo prevented it, only their shared apprehension.

"Ilene told me you were… attacked. Out there." He gestured vaguely at the dome overhead, eyes unfocused. "Far from Mew lands. So far we couldn’t protect you."

Hayden crossed the beam carefully. Not that she cared about getting a little wet—but Julian might. The young heir had very specific ideas about how things should be.

"She’s right." Liz caught her hand, helping her up onto the shore. Then she shifted—not shrinking exactly, that wasn’t it. Her lucario wasn’t older, just tighter, her body almost as much hard muscle as a boy.

As a mew again, her skin went soft, her features delicate. Her feet slipped up off the ground an inch or so, where she felt most comfortable.

Julian’s daemon nudged his shoulder, urging him closer. He stumbled, but caught himself before he went into the pond. He had that much strength, at least. "We wanted… wanted to say sorry."

"You did?" Hayden stopped her retreat, mouth falling open. "For what? You didn’t attack me."

"We made you think you had to leave," Aerie declared. "We never should’ve been so… dramatic."

Liz met her in the air, touching the cat’s forehead with her own. She brushed past her, mixing their scents together. "You think that was you?"

"Why else would it be?" Julian continued. "We fought, then—we should’ve realized. You grew up with commoners. You wouldn’t see things the same way we do."

Hayden floated up to a stone wall overlooking the water, one with a soft platform of grass just above. She’d seen real lucario and their humans jump that distance, ascending the room in strides far larger than any human could manage.

Hayden perched on the wall, her legs dangling over the side. She gestured down for Julian to join her. "Up here?"

He grunted, and made like he might start climbing the wall. But then Aerie reached him, and floated the two of them to the upper floor. She set him down gently, then continued past Hayden, careful never to get close enough to touch her by accident.

"I… appreciate your apology," she said, taking one of his hands in hers. "But it isn’t your fault. I can’t stay in your house all the time, not until we’re married. Before that, I just visit."

"But you were supposed to visit until spring! My father told me—until we went to the big dance together. You would be with me when we met all the other families. They’d get to see how pretty you are, and how grown up I am. It’s not spring yet!"

Despite everything, a word like “pretty” could still make her blush. Maybe it was the straightforward way he said it, as though he were commenting on some plainly obvious truth.

"I missed spending time together," she said, after a long silence. "We both did."

He looked down at her hand, without letting go. The gesture seemed to confuse him more than anything, certainly more than any other emotion coming from him. "Us too. It’s boring up in the other palace. Mom says I can go other places if you’re with me. Like here, or… the reserve? Mom says we can go."

She released his hand, grinning weakly. "You mean like—camping? It’s not as comfortable as your palace."

"Does that mean no?" He shoved his hand into a pocket. At the same time, Aerie floated away from Liz, circling around to rest on his further shoulder. "You’re still mad, aren’t you?"

"No!" she snapped, more insistent. "I’m not mad. I’ll go anytime you want." She reached over, scooping a pebble off the ground beside her, then heaved it down to the pool beneath them.

"Right now?" He leapt to his feet, posing near the edge. "Apparently there’s a… place up there, for when we want to visit."

"I guess so." She stood up beside him, stretching. "If Ilene says it’s okay."