Frankie walked up and down the line behind the girls of cabin 12 as they strung their bows and nocked their arrows. No one needed help stringing their bows. Not even little Rosa. Not even timid Terra. Emilia’s breath filled her and she felt herself shift subtly, arms a little stronger, legs a little longer, hair a little lighter.
“Ready…” Frankie called.
Up and down the line, the girls drew their bows.
“Sight…”
Emilia kept her breath slow and even.
“Release.”
As one, the girls of cabin 12 released their arrows at their targets. A cacophony of thunks echoed throughout the archery range and a series of delighted cheers followed. A quick look told Emilia every one of them had hit their targets. They were getting better. It felt good.
Emilia touched the head of the spike tucked in the pocket of her shorts. She’d wrapped the tip in an old sock to keep it from putting a hole in the pocket. She wasn’t sure she believed in good luck or goblins, but the Fiends she’d faced thus far had certainly seemed like evil spirits and maybe Mrs. Wright was right, maybe keeping the spike with her was a good idea. Besides it was nice to have a physical grounding to confidence. The ironspike reminded her of Mrs. Wright as the guitar pick had reminded her of Zenith Niall.
“One more,” Frankie said.
Emilia picked up the last arrow off the counter in front of her but kept her arms and bow loose, waiting for Frankie to give the word.
The eight of them had been firing arrows since they’d finished lunch. Sweat stuck Emilia’s clothes to her skin. It was the hottest day at Camp Arrowhead so far and though the range offered some shade, Emilia was glad Frankie had insisted on sunscreen. Idly, she wondered how her body would react to a sunburn. Could she just change shape into a form that wasn’t sunburned? What about cuts? Broken bones?
Emilia was jolted from her speculation by a change in the air; it suddenly tasted of cinnamon and hot iron.
“Ready…”
Emilia drew her bow and looked down the range at her target. The foam block was riddled with arrows. She hadn’t missed once this session. She wondered if there was room enough left on the block for her next shot, but even as she did, she chose her target—the lower left of the block had plenty of space.
“Sight…”
The smell of cinnamon and iron intensified, stinging Emilia’s throat, making her eyes water. She blinked it away and took a breath, determined to focus. A wave of heat walked behind her, moving west, toward the forge and the last trial.
Emilia’s fingers slipped.
Her arrow flew.
“Release.”
Emilia turned to look behind, but instead of Keegan Brand, she found Eddie, not looking at her, walking to the winding path through the forest leading to the forge.
Another call of success rippled down the range. Emilia turned to look and found she’d just nicked the foam block, tearing a piece out, but not putting the arrow in the target. She bit her tongue on a curse.
Cinnamon stung her nose, and Emilia looked back at Eddie. He’d stopped just before the trail disappeared into the wood. He looked at her, expression miserable.
She made to follow.
“Emilia? Aren’t you going to help collect arrows?”
Emilia blinked at Frankie. “Right.”
“I’ll get hers,” Maria said.
Emilia looked at the purple-haired girl.
“You better hurry up,” Maria said.
Emilia nodded. She stripped off her forearm guard, lay it beside her bow, and hurried off down the trail after Eddie, touching her spike for good luck. The temperature grew warmer the further she went and by the smell of iron in the air she expected to see the forge lit and Mrs. Wright, hammer in hand. The clearing in which the forge stood was quiet when she arrived. Only Eddie stood there, just before the brick forge with its iron hood.
Emilia stopped a few feet away, uneasy.
“Eddie? What are you doing?”
“I’ve been coming out here a lot, since you stopped talking to me.” There was something about his voice. It was rough, like he’d been crying a lot, but not quite.
“I didn’t…”
“I like to look at where the fire was. Is that… that seems… odd.” He made a quick, motion and a match flared. It smelled of sulfur and cinnamon.
“Eddie. Do you smell that?”
He dropped the match on the bricks and it flared out. He lit another, held it for a bit, then dropped it.
Emilia approached and sidled about, trying to get a look at his eyes without drawing his attention. She kept her hands away from the ironspike snug in her pocket. She didn’t want him to think she was threatening him.
“Eddie. I’m sorry.”
He scoffed. “What for? You did the right thing.”
“But I…”
“I didn’t want you to say anything because I was afraid of looking weak in front of my cousin. I got mad because you did the brave thing and I did the cowardly thing. I got mad because you’re the hero and I’m nothing.” His voice got rougher as he spoke, like the crackling of fire. The smell of sulfur, cinnamon, and hot iron intensified.
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“Eddie!”
The boy turned, his eyes glowing hot, angry red. He lit a match and sparks flew from his eyes. His skin was red, like a sunburn. He cocked his head like a curious puppy and grinned.
“Are you going to fight me, hero?” He took a step toward her and Emilia backed up. “Will you repel me with a guitar solo? Skewer me with an antler? Throw me down a muddy hole?”
He advanced again.
Emilia put a hand to her ironspike. It was too big to stick in the pocket of her shorts, the rounded head sticking out by a few inches. The metal was smooth and cool against her hands.
“Is that it then? You’ll pummel me with a bit of metal?” His voice grew, flickering and crackly like a campfire about to jump its bounds. Heat pulsed from him, stinging Emilia’s skin. He laughed and spread his arms, smoke trailing from his fingers.
“No.” Emilia spread her hands. “You’re not a coward, Eddie. And I’m not apologizing because I think it was wrong to go to Mrs. Fir. I’m apologizing because I should have at least tried to talk to you about it first.”
Eddie stopped and blinked. “But you did. I refused to listen.”
“Then I should have tried harder.”
Eddie shook his head and the smoke dissipated. The red light of his eyes flickered.
“I’m not going to fight you, Eddie. Even if you are the Fiend of Fire.”
Eddie blinked rapidly and tears slid down his cheeks. The heat dimmed and the scents mellowed. The match in his hand burned out.
He reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew a matchbook, glowing red. He held it in front of him, staring at it blankly. His eyes flickered red. Emilia held a hand out to him. She was close enough she might have plucked it from his fingers, but that felt wrong.
“I’ll take that.” The new voice was hot and sharp and sent them both to staggering. Neither of them had seen Keegan approach, but he snatched their attention just as he snatched the glowing matchbook out of Eddie’s hand. “Playing with matches, Teddybear? Naughty, naughty. What if you set the forest on fire?”
Emilia turned to face the taller boy. He grinned like a devil, eyes taking on a manic red glow, fire licking from his lips. Eddie stumbled and dropped to one knee, breathing hard. Emilia made sure she was between the boys.
The Fiend of Fire laughed like flames on dead wood. “Do you truly enjoy protecting the weak?”
“He’s not weak. He rejected the Fiend of Fire. Unlike you, Keegan Brand.”
The fiend reached his right hand out to Emilia. Upon his palm sat the matchbook, pulsing with red light in increasing rhythm. Fire motes winked about his fingers, along his skin.
“To reject this power is weakness.”
Emilia tried to keep calm, to think of the mental trading cards. Surely there was a skill or a shape that could help. But the manic, fiery grin of the boy before her had frozen her mind.
“Go on, little hero. Take it.” The Fiend of Fire gestured with his open palm, and Emilia watched as the matchbook shifted and changed until it was a bright golden key, sleek and sharp, long as her palm. He laughed like a bonfire and the palm holding the key burst into flame.
Emilia tried to act, to confront the Fiend of Fire, to behave as a hero ought, but heat pulsed from him, stinging her eyes, her nose, her skin, threatening to do worse, and fear froze her to the spot.
Then Eddie was there.
The smaller boy snatched the key from the Fined of Fire’s hand. A burst of radiant heat, smelling of cinnamon, emanated from the fiend and they all staggered. Emilia blinked hard, trying to clear her vision of tears, to keep her feet, to catch a deep, full breath. Eddie staggered backward. The fire had gone from Keegan’s skin, his expression furious. Keegan rounded on his cousin.
“Give it back.” Though the fire had left his voice, he still sounded dangerous.
“Eddie, run.” Without the Fiend of Fire’s eyes upon her, Emilia’s mind sprang to. She pictured the Athlete, took a breath, and felt herself change. Eddie turned and sprinted for the forest. Keegan leapt after him. Emilia surged for the boy who had been the Fiend of Fire, striking him with a thickly muscled shoulder. They fell in a heap and Keegan just managed to snag Eddie’s ankle. The smaller boy went sprawling and the golden key tumbled across the hard-packed earth around the forge.
Eddie scrambled for the key, but just as his hand closed around it, Keegan got to him, grabbing him by his shoulder and digging his thumb into the socket. Eddie cried out and tossed the key to Emilia who snagged it from the air with an easy confidence.
Keegan turned to face her and though the fire no longer danced along his skin, his eyes flicked with red light, the power of the fiend somewhere within. He moved faster than should have been possible, a fist lashing out, catching her upon her nose. Emilia staggered, spitting blood, forcing her eyes to stay open so when the next blow came, she’d be ready for it.
Eddie backed rapidly, headed for the wood. For a single, uncharitable moment, Emilia thought he was running away. Then he raised his hands to signal he was open for a pass. Emilia waited, letting Keegan close, fists raised and when he lunged for her, she tossed the key so it spun end over end in an arc that would end at the edge of the wood. Eddie sprinted for where the key would land and Keegan turned to follow. With his back to her, Emilia took the cheapshot. It didn’t feel fair, or honorable, or heroic, but as her large fist impacted his lower back, it did get the job done.
Keegan gasped and staggered.
She had expected Keegan to turn and face her. To fight her like a man, for lack of a better phrase. Instead, he ran after Eddie, faster than she’d expected, and Emilia hurried after.
Eddie wasn’t terribly fast. He was short, unathletic, and even from here Emilia could hear his labored, wheezing breathing. Keegan and Emilia quickly gained ground upon the smaller boy, but Eddie was clever and made good use of trees, dodging between and around so Keegan didn’t have a straight sprint to catch him.
Eddie dodged around the bole of a large pine, causing Keegan to stop abruptly, change his course. Emilia caught up to him and gave him a shove that bounced him off the tree. Keegan recovered quickly and swung a fist at her. Emilia threw up her arms and told herself that, should she make it through this, she’d take up boxing. Keegan’s fists fell about her arms and shoulders, glancing off her left cheek once.
She winced and staggered.
Keegan lit out after Eddie.
In a moment that stretched, Emilia burst from the wood to the boys’ side of Camp Arrowhead, their cabins arranged in a semicircle, their fire pit cold with the ashes of last night’s blaze. Dotted here and there were the images of the kids at Camp Aspen, like reflections by candlelight, moving with dream-like slowness.
She recognized a small group of them. The four fiends with Eddie between them, ushering the smaller boy toward the wood, Vernon with books and binder under one arm.
The not distant past.
A few days ago.
The Summer Solstice.
She spared those ghostly reflections a thought, wincing at what she knew was to come for Eddie, but focusing on what might yet be.
Eddie ran pel-mel for the path around the Gymnasium to the courtyard. Keegan, legs longer and with no trees in his way, gained ground. Emilia pulled hard at the image of the Athlete in her mind and felt herself change. Fatigue fled her muscles, breathing came easily and she caught up to Keegan, shoving him with a shoulder. He staggered, but responded with a lashing fist, connecting low on her ribs. It hurt, but not as bad as she’d expected. She swung back, wild and unpracticed. She didn’t need to defeat him, just delay him, giving Eddie time to reach the goal.
Around the side of the Gymnasium, they made their way, trading blows, until they were in the courtyard.
Eddie got to the stone box, key in hand. He paused and looked at Emilia, hesitating, questioning.
“Do it!” she shouted.
Eddie inserted the key.
A burst of light and warmth, like a shaft of sun through a soft summer rainfall, lit the courtyard, illuminating the stone box. The sixteen-pointed star, four fours, glowed into existence upon the lid, shifting from yellow to blue to green to red. All four keyholes and the groove flared, incandescent. With a crack of stone and creak of age, the lid popped and lifted. It scraped as it shifted and slid and eventually fell with a thump on the far side of the box.
Eddie backed well clear as Emilia approached.
A pair of greenish-blue hands grasped the edge of the box and strained, pulling, until a figure in the shape of a human pulled itself up and over on the near side of the box.
It looked up at her.
It was short, no taller than Eddie, even as it straightened to its full height. It had overly long arms, thick legs, and a curved back. Its face was squashed, eyes bulbous, and ears long. It licked its lips with a fat, grey tongue, cocked its neck, and stretched its fingers.