I jump up to my feet. I need to run to her. I need her to forgive me. Need her to tell me I’m going the right way. I need my mom.
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.