The world slowed to a crawl as the strands of time forced their way back into Sabrina’s mind. She saw her uncle’s death a thousand times. “Stop it,” she cried. “What can I do about it?”
And then the webs were gone and she was seeing her uncle once more. Just before Nottingham could release his deadly missile, the ground beneath him and Heart crumbled and the duo cried out in fear as they fell off the edge of the cliff.
Uncle Jake rushed to the edge. Below him, Nottingham and Heart clung to roots in order to keep from plummeting one hundred feet to the rocky and jagged beach below.
“Killing us won’t bring her back, Jacob!”
“No, it won’t,” Uncle Jake said as he knelt on one knee. Sabrina hoped he was about to hoist them onto safe ground, but instead he reached into the pocket of his shirt and removed the white rose he had taken from Briar’s grave. Despite many days in his pocket, it looked as fresh and alive as if it had just bloomed. With his fingers he dug a tiny hole in the soil and set the severed stem inside. Then he gingerly packed it with more earth.
“What are you doing, you fool?” Nottingham shouted. “This is no time for gardening. We’re going to fall. Help us!”
Uncle Jake gazed upon the rose lovingly. As before, the flower quickly sprouted a twin. It pushed its way toward the sunlight and bloomed like a tiny exploding firework. Then came another rose and another and another until the entire cliff side was churning like a sea with new blooms. The roses sprouted around Jake’s feet and down the cliff and through the desperate fingers of Nottingham and Heart. The blooms wove through their arms and torsos, ran down their legs and around their feet. Soon, there were hundreds of flowers, then thousands—and each flower blossom moved a tiny portion of earth. Combined, the tiny portion became a ripple, then a wave, then a churning, bubbling sea of soil, making it impossible for the villains to hold on any longer.
Nottingham and Heart fell with little white petals fluttering alongside them. The rocky beach where they landed rapidly transformed into a garden of flowers that reached right to the shore. Soon their bodies were swallowed up, as if the earth demanded that something ugly be replaced with beauty.
Uncle Jake looked out over the edge for a long time, saying nothing, and then he leaned down and took a single rose from the abundant garden at his feet. He gingerly placed it into his pocket for safekeeping.
And then a fever swept over Sabrina that felt as if her very blood was on fire. The last thing she saw before she collapsed was the worried look on her father’s face.
abrina Grimm was no stranger to nightmares. Long before she came to Ferryport Landing, she had spent many nights tossing and turning as her imagination fought off Ms. Smirt and her endless supply of crazy foster families. When she found herself surrounded by real monsters, they invaded her dreams as well. But her mind had never concocted a terror quite as horrible as Baba Yaga. What was worse, the old crone wasn’t a dream. She was real, and now she was peering into Sabrina’s mouth and tugging on her tongue.
“The child is infected,” Baba Yaga said to her family and friends.
“With what?” her father said. He looked panicked.
“Magic, of course,” the old crone said dismissively. “Did you think I was giving her a checkup for chicken pox? This thing you love so dearly has the sickness.”
“You mean there is magic inside her?” Daphne asked. She placed her hand on her sister’s and nodded. “Yes, I can feel it.”
Sabrina shook her head, which made her dizzy. “When the mirrors exploded, a piece cut me. I guess some of it got under my skin. I haven’t felt like myself ever since, but I’m OK. No one needs to worry.”
“This is not good, Henry,” Mr. Canis said. “Your daughter is magic intolerant.”
“Yeah, I sort of get power hungry around it, but I’m fine, really,” Sabrina said as she tried to stand unsuccessfully. They were still at Atticus’s hideout. They needed to get to Mirror and were wasting time. “I have that under control. I just feel like I’ve got the flu or something.”
“You should lie down, honey,” her mother said.
“Let her stand,” Baba Yaga said. “She’ll be dead soon.”
“She could die?” Veronica said.
“Didn’t say could,” the old crone croaked. “Said will.”
“Then we have to get it out of her,” Puck demanded.
“Leave her be, I said. It’s inside her—in the tissue. It isn’t coming out.”
“Then what?” Bunny said. “We just let her die slowly? That’s our only choice?”
“It’s no choice at all, poison maker,” Baba Yaga said. “Best thing to do is put her to work. She’s got the stuff mirrors are made of floating around inside her. Can’t you feel the power coming off of her? It rivals that of your monster, the First. If you’re wise, you’ll send her out to kill it. We have nothing that can stop that thing, and she might be our only chance.”