The Writer - Chapter 3

The Reader

Titus promised that he would attempt to keep the adults and other rebels at bay while Emmeline and her friends snuck out, but he couldn’t keep them in the dark forever. 

“I’ll wait until two days after you leave,” Titus decided. “Sending someone after you will be risky by then. The worst they’ll do is reprimand me, maybe lock me away for a day or make me do chores.” 

“And you’re willing to clean for us?” Newt said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. 

“Don’t push it,” Titus mumbled back. “I, uh, do kind of want something in return.” He met Emmeline’s eyes. She averted her gaze. 

“I already Read you,” Emmeline reminded him. “And Readings don’t change - or at least they haven’t in the past.” She wasn’t quite sure, especially with everything that was happening. Her Readings hadn’t shown Baelle before and now everyone she Read had war in their future. 

But she decided not to mention that.  Titus’s Reading had been … interesting. 

Titus kept staring and Emmeline found that he wasn’t going to let up. Stupid, stubborn boys. 

“I don’t want Read,” Titus grunted. “It’s…” his voice trailed off as he glanced at all of Emmeline’s friends. Beckett was leaning forward as if anticipating a fight or drama of any kind. “I, uh…” 

“Want to talk to me in private,” Emmeline finished, blushing. Newt scowled and Emmeline elbowed him in the stomach. “Sure.” 

Titus nodded gratefully. “Why don’t the rest of you start packing?” 

“We will,” Coral promised. “Clara can help me pick out my wardrobe and Beckett can gather the weapons and…” 

Emmeline admired the older girl’s ability to gather her friends and herd them away. Beckett exclaimed something about “pointy” and Emmeline began to regret letting him hold any weapons ever. 

Titus waited until they filtered out of the room - all except for Newt who hung back for a moment. “Relax, man, I’m not stealing your girl. I’d prefer to keep my head attached to my body,” Titus sighed, rolling his eyes. Newt smirked and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

The long table didn’t seem nearly long enough to keep the distance between them. The torches cast flickering shadows over the wall and the darkness closed in around Emmeline. 

“I want you to Write me,” Titus announced. 

Emmeline’s eyes widened. Titus wanted her to Write him? “Wha-What? Why?” She hadn’t told him about his death, Emmeline hadn’t thought it fair to worry him. 

Titus’s eyes were piercing in the dim light. “It’s not my death,” Titus mumbled, eliminating some of Emmeline’s panic. She let herself breathe a sigh of relief, though she was still a bit worried. “You know the whole Marlene predicament really set me off.” 

Guilt pooled in the bottom of Emmeline’s stomach but she pushed the feeling aside. “I remember,” she managed to whisper. 

“And I’ve had trouble sleeping at night because I can hear her screams. Every time I close my eyes, I see her face. Every time I kill one of the soldiers, I see her crumpled body. It’s not fair,” Titus murmured, trancelike. Emmeline was uncomfortable but she didn’t let it show. His voice broke as he continued talking. “She was my everything and-” 

He paused like he was just remembering Emmeline was there. Titus cleared his throat. “Sorry, green eyes, forgot who I was for a moment.” 

Green eyes? He had never called her that before. Emmeline didn’t dwell on it. 

“So, um, about the Writing - what exactly do you want?” Emmeline asked. Please not let it be Marlene coming back to life, she pleaded. Anything but that. Newt was the one who had a way with the dead. 

Titus grabbed her hands and held them tightly, but there was no spark between them. It was simply a sorry boy and a girl used to listening. 

“Write Marlene out of me,” he begged. “I can’t live with her memory haunting me. Or Write me to die right after the war.” His voice was so heavy, so full of emotion that Emmeline felt sadness bubbling in her throat, threatening to spill over into a sob. 

“I can’t do that,” Emmeline lied. She wasn’t sure if she could but she couldn’t let Titus just … die. 

He met her eyes once again, this time they were steely and cold. “I’m not asking, Echo. I’m telling you that I have no purpose. You have your little entourage. The rebels have each other. The other circus members are a team. I have no one.” 

“You can make friends…” 

“No one can replace her,” Titus shouted before looking down, ashamed. Emmeline felt a tiny tear dribble down her cheek. When she looked at Titus again, she didn’t see a hot-head. She saw a broken boy. “The last time I tried to make a friend was at the circus. You and Newt didn’t want me - you had each other. Marlene was the first one to reach out to me and see me for who I was. The only one.” 

Something cracked inside of Emmeline. She felt terrible - horrible - for being such a jerk as a kid. Newt had always been protecting her from the others, he claimed they were jealous. And some of them were - Emmeline did get all of the attention. But then there were people like Titus… 

“I’m so sorry,” Emmeline whispered, the words feeling empty. “Maybe Newt could bring back her ghost or something-” 

“No,” Titus argued firmly, pulling himself together. “If she wanted to see me, she would’ve tried to find me by now.” 

“So no carriages,” Emmeline clarified unhappily. 

“If we took carriages, the generals would definitely notice,” Coral reasoned. “The horses are already a risk.” 

Emmeline knew that the older girl was right, but she still didn’t appreciate the extra time it would take. Nelith wasn’t close - it was on the very corner of their world. Horses would hasten the journey but a carriage would provide more cover and supplies. 

“Are we all packed then?” Emmeline asked, glancing at her friends’ packs that seemed almost empty. 

“We plan on making stops at some of the villages along the way,” Newt explained. “Forrest also already loaded the horses with the brunt of the weight.” Forrest nodded once, also patting his belt where two swords hung limply. 

“I can get weapons on the road,” Emmeline stated, though the others already knew. Previously, Emmeline had discovered her unique ability as a Reader somehow also helped her create weapons from nowhere. Normally, she conjured a pure black sword and sometimes daggers or a bow and arrow. 

“Same here,” Beckett added, tracing the tendrils that looped down his arms. 

“So we’re ready,” Clara said. “Does anyone have the map or is it already packed?” Forrest nodded again in response and grabbed his bag, rummaging through it for a moment before revealing a leather bound book. 

The map inside was a gift from Ibenily herself, it showed their location on the map to help them travel accurately. 

Emmeline checked to make sure everything else was secure as well. She was wearing trousers and a shirt that covered her bare arms. A few spare sets of clothing were tucked away in the horse’s saddlebags. It was hard to focus with the stench of the stables, but talking in the mansion was risky with the generals milling about. 

“Which horses are we taking?” Clara asked, stroking the nose of a white stallion. 

“The ones no one will miss,” Newt decided. He gazed around for a moment before picking a gray, a black, and a mottled brown. 

Coral and Forrest claimed the gray one while Beckett and Clara took the brown one. That left Emmeline and Newt to ride the black horse. It reminded Emmeline of her past horse, Void. Too bad Void was long gone, disappeared when Baelle had captured Emmeline. 

Memories pushed to the surface but Emmeline forced them back as she climbed into the saddle. 

“We should head out now,” Newt said, his warmth comforting to Emmeline. 

“Agreed,” Emmeline voiced. “The sooner we get to Nelith the better.” And the sooner I can defeat Baelle, she added silently. 

“Well, let’s go home,” Coral mumbled. And with that, they set off into the distance. 

By nightfall, the group was about a quarter of the way through Quigon. The stars twinkled like pinpricks of light in the sky. The horses trotted along in the silence. 

Emmeline was just about to suggest they stop to rest when she spotted the light of a lantern ahead. At first she thought it was a soldier encampment but the further they travelled the more lights she saw. 

“Someone check the map,” Emmeline said, her voice soft in case these mysterious light-bearing people were hostile. “Is there a village around here?” 

“Yup,” Coral answered. “Just ahead. Should we stop and rest?” 

“Send two of us ahead,” Newt suggested. “Then we can see if these people are with Baelle or if they’re with the rebels. Or neither.” 

“Forrest and I will go,” Coral offered. 

“Forrest doesn’t do well with people,” Newt argued. “Emmeline and I will go instead.” 

“What about Beckett and I?” Clara asked. 

“No!” The answer was unanimous. Beckett pretended to pout but a small smile was splayed on his lips. 

Emmeline didn’t like villages anymore. Her whole life had been travelling between them and in the past months they had only brought bad experiences for her. But could tell by Forrest’s body language that he hated it more than she did. His shoulders were tense, his eyes constantly alert. 

“Newt and I will go,” Emmeline announced. She figured that because the others viewed her as a leader, they would respect her opinion. 

“Fine,” Coral said curtly. 

Newt and Emmeline slipped off their horse and Emmeline handed her bag to Coral. Then the pair of them began to walk towards the village. 

Emmeline could feel her heart racing in her chest. Memories tried to surface again. She saw her arrow hitting the poor farm boy in the throat. She saw Newt’s face as he was possessed by Baelle and tried to kill her. And then their moment in the forest when they had… 

Newt’s hand found hers and he squeezed tightly. Emmeline felt heat rising to her cheeks. 

“Are you okay?” Newt asked, his tone hushed. 

“It’s nothing,” Emmeline replied, avoiding the question. “Just stuff from the castle.” She felt embarrassed to admit it. Newt had been tortured and he wasn’t plagued by flashbacks. Emmeline had never really talked about how the memories kept coming back, she didn’t want to seem broken or fractured or plagued by the past. 

Newt didn’t say anything but his presence was enough. 

Emmeline tried to imagine that they were together, having an experience much better than scouting out an unknown village. She imagined that they were having a heartfelt picnic. It didn’t work. 

“Who goes there?” someone called out, interrupting their moment. 

Newt and Emmeline shared a look. Emmeline couldn’t make out the boy’s expression, but she knew he was probably smirking. 

“Hello?” Newt called out. 

“I said, who goes there,” the voice responded bitterly. It was decidedly masculine. “Have you come to join the celebration?” 

Newt’s bravo faded in the midst of confusion. “Celebration?” 

Torchlight blinded Emmeline momentarily. A man stepped out of the shadows, a grin plastered on his face and a lantern in his hand. He looked friendly enough, but Emmeline had learned not to judge based on appearances. 

“Yeah, we’re having a celebration,” the man exclaimed eagerly. “Travellers are welcome.” 

Newt turned towards Emmeline, obviously a bit confused and overwhelmed by the stranger who was oddly welcoming. Thoughts raced through Emmeline’s head. Should they trust the man? Attack him? Or avoid the village all together? 

“We, um, left something behind,” Newt managed to stutter. He grabbed Emmeline’s shoulders and steered her away before the man could protest home. 

The pair hurried back to their friends. 

“Back so soon?” Beckett asked, leaning against his horse casually like he was trying to be cool. 

“They’re partying,” Newt explained breathlessly. “I don’t know why, but they seem friendly. It’s up to you guys if you want to pass through or if you want to go around. It’s just really weird.” 

“Is it an end of the world party or something?” Clara asked. 

“Who knows,” Emmeline sighed. “I saw lots of lights but we didn’t see how crowded the party was.” 

Forrest waved his arms frantically and Coral translated. “Forrest says that if they’re friendly now we should risk heading through the village. We can fight if we need to, and I agree with him.” 

“Of course you do,” Beckett grumbled. “But I’m all in. The last party we went to was only mildly interesting.” 

“And Emmeline almost died,” Newt reminded them, sending a sympathetic look her way. “Will you be okay to pass through, Em?” 

Emmeline nodded, not trusting her voice. 

The last party she had attended had been back in the tower ruins of Layene. She had been poisoned by Willow, who had blamed it on Marlene. The whole ordeal brought nausea to Emmeline’s stomach and she forced the memories away. 

“Great, then it’s decided,” Newt announced. His voice practically commanded the attention of the others. “Gather the supplies and let’s go.” 

The man was waiting in the same place when Emmeline and Newt returned, their friends in tow. His smile was plastered on his face. Something about his face unnerved Emmeline, it felt familiar to her. 

“I feel like I’ve seen him before,” Beckett whispered to her. Emmeline shushed him. If Beckett was noticing the same thing, it couldn’t be a good sign. 

“Welcome back,” the man said, his smile never wavering. “I see you brought your friends. Have you come to join our party? It’s quite the celebration, let me tell you. Everyone is here.” 

He continued chattering away for a little while until Coral cleared her throat politely. “That’s all and well, sir, but we need a place to stay. Could you direct us to the nearest inn?” 

The man’s smile dipped a bit, but within a moment it was back full force. “Inn? You don’t need an inn. You can stay with me. My house is quite big, I’ll show you it right now, if you’d like.” 

“That’d be great,” Beckett answered. Emmeline elbowed him but he began to whisper again. “He’ll probably walk us through the party and we can see who all is here.” 

It was a good point, but Emmeline was growing anxious. The prospect of a large crowd frightened her more than she cared to admit. The man began to lead the way around the small shed that the group had gathered behind. 

The party was empty. 

Cups were strewn across the ground, puddles spilling from their sides. A punch bowl was lying upside-down. Tables were overturned and the whole brick yard was empty. A threatening house loomed ahead, not quite a mansion but not a cottage either. 

The man didn’t seem to notice the emptiness. “My name is Luca,” the man said as they walked. “As you can see, my little yard is quite the party place. Good evening, Darla. Hello, Frederick.” He continued to introduce himself to multiple people that Emmeline couldn’t see. She wondered if he was talking to ghosts, but Newt didn’t seem to notice anything either. 

“Um, sir,” Beckett began, but Coral pressed a finger to her lips and Beckett shut up. 

“Yes?” Luca turned around. He sounded so polite and yet he was so broken. “Oh, are you hungry, my dears? I have more food in the house.” 

No one responded. Luca shrugged, and turned to comment on Prescilla’s dress. 

“Is it just me or is he a little…” Newt whispered to her, making an odd face. “I don’t know, crazy?” 

“Just go with it,” Emmeline hissed. “He’s being nice.” 

“Unless he’s trying to kill us,” Newt argued. “You never know with the nice people.” At that exact moment, Luca stumbled over a rock and reached out his hands as if lunging for one of the ghosts. 

“Oh, sorry, Melinda, didn’t see you there,” Luca apologized to the rock. 

Emmeline sent Newt a look. “He’s in no condition to attack us.” 

“Sure,” Newt responded with an exasperated sigh. They followed Luca towards the house, the man greeting the people that didn’t exist. 

The long hallways of the house screamed loneliness and the result of a broken mind. Luca seemed oblivious to the torn carpet, the moldy walls, and the various paints that had been spilt on the ground long ago. The whole place gave Emmeline the creeps. 

Finally, Luca opened a pair of wooden doors. “You guys can rest in here while I make some tea.” 

The group shuffled nervously inside as Luca ran off to prepare some tea. The room appeared to be a living room. Emmeline was slightly disgusted by the stench that smelled like rotting food, but she didn’t mention it. A brick fireplace was at the back of the room, velvet couches lined the walls. 

“Emmeline, look,” Beckett suddenly whispered. 

Emmeline looked towards the boy, who was pointing above the fireplace to where a large painting was hung. Emmeline sucked in a breath. 

She now knew why Luca looked so familiar. His facial features, his expressions - she had seen them before. The woman he shared them with might have been able to shape shift, but her eyes were still the same shape. Her lips the same color and form.

Luca was Baelle’s father.