plan?”
“The plan is that I use my charm and charisma to persuade you to calm down and come back to camp. Then when Celia is sure that you aren’t going to kill Annalise with a bolt of lightning or whatever . . . then we go to Camp One, where you give evidence in the trial of the century. Annalise’s, I mean. You’re not going on trial, at least not yet. Celia says best case it’ll never come to that. Course that means that worst case it will. But if Annalise is found guilty you won’t have a case to answer. Celia says she’ll make it clear to everyone that you have come voluntarily to give evidence. She says I have to emphasize that you haven’t been arrested and that so far there are no charges against you.”
“She better not try to arrest me. I’m not going on trial. Not ever. Not for anything and definitely not for killing my father. I don’t have to explain myself to them. And I’m never going back in a cage, never going in a cell, never going behind a locked door.”
“OK. Well, that’s pretty clear.” After a minute Nesbitt adds, “To be honest, mate, I think they’d struggle to arrest you, and even if they managed to get you in a cell I think you’ve got enough Gifts now to get out pretty easy, so I wouldn’t worry about it.” And he nudges me with his elbow. “Mind you, if you were struggling, I could bake a cake and do the old trick of smuggling a file in to you. Or Gab could disguise himself as the big fat sweaty jailer and steal the keys and—”
“Nesbitt, shut up.”
“I was just saying—”
“When I was fourteen they put a collar on me. If I went too far from the cage, the collar would open and let out acid. They’d do that again.”
Nesbitt is quiet for a moment, then says, “No wonder you’re so messed up.”
“Thanks.”
“Anyway, I don’t think even that’s really going to be a problem for you. You managed to walk away from a load of seriously Gifted witches. I mean, Celia was doing her noise thing and you vanished. Greatorex and the trainees—”
“Nesbitt, can you shut up? Just for a minute?”
He manages to stay quiet for almost a minute before saying, “You got any food? I haven’t eaten a thing since that disgusting porridge.”
I don’t have any food but we light a fire and sit looking at it and poking it and Nesbitt chats on into the night. When he falls asleep, I go over it all again. I can’t let Annalise get away with it. Because of her, Marcus is dead. I said I’d kill her and maybe that’s what I have to do. But I’d like to see her on trial. I’d like to see her questioned. I’d like to see her in a cage, wondering if she’ll ever get out. So I will go and give evidence. Let’s see if the Alliance can make a fair trial work. If not, well, I can decide what to do later.
I take out the packets of potion that Van gave me. Perhaps she knew I’d need them when I heard about Annalise. Probably. I’m not tempted to take all three. I want to see Annalise. I want her to see me too. I want to spit in her face. And then I think of Gabriel again. How could I have done that to him?
I open one of the packets and inside lies a smudge of fine yellow powder. I lick a few grains from the tip of my finger but only taste a faint suggestion of mint, so I pour the contents to the back of my throat and the mint flavor fills my mouth and then changes to become a dry bitterness and I wish I’d got some water, but then I realize I don’t need to bother and my body feels like it’s floating away into the darkness.
The blackness is empty and silent. It is perfect. It is complete.
Calm
“Are you calm now?” Celia asks.
“No thanks to you.”
But I say this quietly and slowly. I do feel calm, clear. I’m not sure what was in that powder that Van gave me—more than just sleeping potion, I think. I’m feeling remarkably level-headed and in control. Even so, I’ve stayed away from camp for most of the day, only returning in the evening. Nesbitt walked back with me, and for once he kept relatively