Elsa Crane's Arc

Chapter 43 of 66

Elsa woke before dawn with the shape of the week already fixed in her mind. Two tasks left. Fern still carried the creature's mark, counting down to the next moon. Bodhi had heard about the horned thing but had never watched a summoning, and a first summoning done wrong would cost him his life. She would end both problems in one descent. She sent Wren for the boy and the ledger. She sent word to the cottage for Fern. She took the sapphire-studded stake down from its hook and wrapped it in cloth. The stake had been her insurance every time she stood before the creature. Today it would be the boy's lesson in what to hold and what to show. They met at the mouth of the mystic cellar. Fern came in her strawberry dress, her crystal key on its cord, eyes tight. Bodhi came in his big parka with chalk in his fist. Wren carried the book. Elsa took a torch from the wall and led them down between the carved symbols Bodhi had been drawing since he could hold chalk. He touched the wall as he passed. He did not speak. At the chamber floor Elsa set the stake on the stone where the boy could see it. "Watch my hands," she said. "Watch my mouth. You do not summon him. You witness. Wren keeps the book open. Fern stands behind me. If I fall, none of you bargain. You climb out." She spoke the old words. The air thickened. The horned one rose out of the dark of the far wall — tall, black-haired, horns streaked red, eyes burning green above a mouth of long teeth. He looked at the boy first. He smiled. "A new face," he said. "He watches," Elsa said. "He does not speak. I am here to close accounts." She named her terms plainly. Fern's mark lifted. Bodhi's name, and every name of every guardian at his table — Wren, Dahlia, Clara, Jasper, Fern — sealed off his page forever. No collateral. No return claim. "The price," the creature said. "One life. Mine. In seven days. Delivered here, by my own foot, no one carrying me." Fern made a sound. Elsa did not turn. The creature considered her a long moment. He looked at the boy again. Then he inclined his horns. "Accepted. Seven days." Wren opened the ledger. Elsa took the pen from her small hand and wrote her own name, and drew the cross herself, and dated it. She gave the pen back. The creature sank into the wall. On the stairs Fern was crying without sound. Bodhi walked beside Elsa with the stake in his arms. "Seven days," he said. "Enough time," Elsa said, "to hand you the village clean." He nodded once. He did not let go of the stake.