Witch and Wizard_ The Fire - James Patterson [7]
“We’re almost all that’s left,” Pearl says gravely. I look at her, not understanding, and she gestures impatiently around the room at the candles, the figures, the signs of their devout religion. “The only ones who still believe in the Holiday and everything it stands for, who still keep the faith,” she says. “And his spies are everywhere.”
“But there must be other people who still … practice,” I press, thinking of the illegal Holiday decorations present in the square, the obvious signs that there are other religious families still holding on.
She shakes her head. “Everyone just believes in him now. In the beginning, we gathered in one of the halls. We thought we’d be safe there, that they’d respect the holiness of the place. Instead it just made us a giant target. He sent his henchman to do his dirty work.”
Pearl looks mesmerized, as if she’s watching the events unfold in a movie. “One of them had learned some of his evil magic. He wanted to put his hands on our heads. Some of the kids went right up to him, because it was like being blessed, like we were used to at the hall. I stayed behind, but not my brother, not Zig. Ziggy was smart, but he had more faith than any of us.” Pearl smiles faintly, remembering, but then her expression darkens.
“And the evil man — he wouldn’t stop smiling — put his hand on Ziggy’s forehead. Ziggy was smiling, too. And … and then Ziggy’s face … it started …” She swallows, her eyes unfocused. “Melting … just melting off.” She takes a breath. “I kept screaming for Ziggy, but … then someone grabbed me. And then we were running. That’s all I remember.”
I’m almost too horrified to speak. Pearl is staring straight ahead, her mouth a thin line.
“But you’re here now,” I say. “You’re safe.”
She laughs, and it’s cold, harsh. “Yeah. Safe …”
I look around at the frightened faces, the spooked eyes, and I finally get it. I’m one of the dark ones, with this terrific power I possess. My magic makes me like him, regardless of how I use it.
Hewitt approaches us and looks at Pearl’s angry little face. He raises an eyebrow at me but lets it go. “Here.” He hands me a sorry-looking candle made of some kind of fat. “We light these every night. For the dead. We’re about to begin.”
I want to ask Pearl more questions — about Ziggy, and above all about the horrifying smiling man who melts children’s faces. But she’s already standing up to join her family in a big circle. And it’s clear from that determined expression setting her lips in a tight little knot that that’s the last she’s ever going to say about poor Ziggy Neederman.
Chapter 6
Wisty
IT’S LIKE I’M swimming, my long red hair swirling around me. I’m swimming, only my goggles are foggy and my air tank has just run out of oxygen. My lungs are burning so much I think for a second that I might be flaming out and can actually feel it for the first time. The girl who can set herself on fire. Some Gift.
There seems to be a ton of people surrounding me, and none of them looks like my brother. Where is Whit? I vaguely remember him carrying me, but what’s happened since then? Is he sick? Is he being tortured somewhere by my skeletal captors?
Two kids stand over me, prodding my arm with a stick. The bigger one, a freckle-faced show-off with a chipped tooth, is answering a question the other has asked.
“She’s the red-haired witch, dummy. Not very good at it, is she?”
I focus through the pain and summon all my energy to fix the little braggart with a long, withering look. To my utter satisfaction, the kids scamper away in horror. “She’ll change us into rodents!” Freckles yells. Ah, my reputation has preceded me. Somehow, it feels like an overwhelming relief that I can still strike fear into the hearts of children.
Exhausted, I collapse back into the cushion of sleep.
The next time I open my eyes, it’s dark, and there are candles everywhere. Everyone in the room looks shell-shocked, like they’ve just received the worst news. My heart starts to race until I see my brother. He’s