“Eureka!” the middle gossipwitch shouted from above. “It’s time to make a choice. Close your eyes and say goodbye to someone. Do not burden our beast of burden with the burden of your beastly heart.”
Eureka met Esme’s eyes and nodded. “Let’s go.”
A million pairs of wings beat in unison. Peggy climbed in the sky.
“Ander!” she shouted.
He stared up at her, hope in his eyes.
“Take care of the twins,” she said. “And Cat. Tell them … tell them all I love them.”
He shook his head. “Don’t do this.”
I love you, too. She couldn’t bring herself to say it. Instead, she would take it with her, packed inside her heart. She would take all of them with her in her heart. She didn’t deserve them, but she would take them. Cat’s life-affirming humor. Claire’s strength. William’s tenderness. Dad’s devotion. Rhoda’s stubbornness. Madame Blavatsky’s intuition. Diana’s passion. Ander’s love. They had given Eureka their gifts and she would take them with her wherever she went.
“Goodbye,” she called through the rain as she flew away.
25
THE MARAIS
Eureka watched the world shrink beneath her. Peggy climbed a thousand feet and leveled off below wispy dregs of clouds. Eureka and Brooks rode her bareback, gripping her glossy silver mane. Two dozen gossipwitches rode atop the horse’s wings. They held the beating fabric like children on a sled.
Below, rivers burst from their banks. Red mud spurted across the land like blood from a wound. Where towns had stood a week ago, buildings sagged and highways buckled, sideswiped by water. Flash lakes drowned former valleys. Forests rotted black. As they flew south, great white waves tumbled into altered shoreline, leaving miles of mud in wakes that once were neighborhoods. Houses floated down streets, searching for their owners.
Eureka vomited over the side of the horse and watched it arc toward the ravaged earth. There had been nothing in her stomach but acid. Now there was even less.
“Are you okay?” Brooks asked. Atlas asked.
She rested her cheek on Peggy’s velvety neck. She stared ahead until her eyes found the horizon. She imagined every devastated thing below sliding over that horizon like a waterfall. She imagined the entire broken world flowing into fire at the end of everything.
Brooks leaned in to her good ear. “Say something.”
“I didn’t think it could be worse than my imagination.”
“You’ll fix it.”
“The world is dead. I killed it.”
“Bring it back.” He sounded like the old Brooks, like someone who believed Eureka could do anything, especially the impossible. She was angry with herself for letting down her guard. She wouldn’t do it again. She had to be careful, confiding in the enemy.
“How did you find them?” Eureka nodded in the witches’ direction.
“I didn’t,” Brooks said. “They found me. When I freed myself, it was like I was waking from a coma. She”—he nodded at Esme, who lay like a sunbather on Peggy’s wings—“was standing over me when I opened my eyes. She offered me a ride. I said I had to find you first. She laughed and said, ‘Mount the mare, stud.’ Then they brought me to you.” He looked around. “I never thought we’d top the time we hitched to Bonnaroo in that convertible van. But we’ve topped it.”
That trip was one of Eureka’s fondest memories. The driver had started in L.A., in one of those homes-of-the-stars tour buses. There were brochures in the seat pockets with maps of the Hollywood Hills. He picked up hitchers across the country, until all the seats were filled. They spent the trip squinting into the rolling hills of Tennessee, pretending to see movie stars hiding behind poplar trees. It was another thing Atlas couldn’t have known without Brooks.
Esme flicked an amethyst whip against Peggy’s wing. The beast banked west. They were flying over water now. All land had disappeared.
“You don’t want to hear this,” Brooks said, “but I learned things from Atlas.”