ItCP30

## Chapter 30

**Chapter 30** of **Into the Crooked Place** is in **Tavia's** point of view.

## **Full Version**

THE STORM WAS UNRELENTING.

Tavia wiped the rain from her face, clutching onto the ladder between train carriages to keep from falling overboard.

She screamed up at Saxony to veer the train left and avoid a rock formation the size of a small city that had sprouted from nowhere.

Lightning cracked the sky, rain falling like glass on Tavia’s skin. Hours passed and there was no sign of the storm letting up. The farther they traveled, the faster it chased them.

Arjun knelt on top of the train beside Saxony, one hand clasped to a small holder to steady his footing, and the other pressed up to the sky in an attempt to tame it. The wind battered his face, throwing his soaked hair every which way.

“Come on!” Tavia snarled, climbing up a few steps. “Earn your keep!”

Arjun broke his concentration to glare and the momentary loss of focus caused the train to lurch right. Waves swarmed higher, their foamed edges like teeth, hurtling down toward their makeshift army.

Tavia braced herself, but the water hit like a fist. She slipped on the ladder but managed to keep her hold as the wave collided. Her legs flung out from under her and though her grip was sound, her head cracked against the side of the train.

For a second, her vision was black.

In the moment’s darkness, she heard the screams of the crew being flung across the carriages.

Ejm Voten truly lived up to its name.

Nobody but an idiot with a death wish would cross these waters. Saxony’s map was one step away from getting them killed.

Tavia cursed and climbed down from the ladder. She ran through the carriages, pushing past buskers and Crafters, until she reached the front cab. Its large door was slid open and Wesley leaned out.

“Keep your focus!” he yelled up to Arjun.

Tavia clung to a metal loop dangling from the ceiling to keep her balance. She heard Arjun shout spells into the wind in response to Wesley, but it was little use. Every anomaly he stopped spawned another. If Arjun ceased the rain, lightning blew a hole through the train. If he dismantled a cyclone, tidal waves sprouted like weeds along the sea’s surface.

Saxony was beside him, whispering magic so fast that Tavia could barely see her lips move when she caught sight of her.

She tried to steer the train while the other Energycrafters worked to gather a force field of protection, but every time the vessel lurched from the storm, Saxony fell to the floor and her concentration broke.

Karam was by her side, always, pulling her back to standing. But even she couldn’t hold her footing long enough to keep them both steady.

“We’re going to die before we can even get to the Kingpin,” Tavia said.

She was practically screaming to be heard over the winds.

“I’m not dying in the middle of nowhere,” Wesley said. “When I go out, it’ll be in a blaze of glory, with all four of the Many Gods staring down in wonder.”

If Tavia could let go of the loop for long enough to stay upright, then she would’ve punched him.

“Be sure to tell the storm that,” she said.

Wesley clutched a good luck charm in his hand, freshly conjured.

He threw it out into the sea.

Then another.

Wesley fired them into the center of the growing maelstroms in quick succession, closing them instantly.

The train shook again and Tavia turned to Arjun. Among the chaos of Crafters trying madly to keep afloat, Arjun looked close to being swallowed by the storm he was protecting them from.

Another great wave rose, double the size of the train.

Arjun lurched forward as if to grab it, and the wave stuttered and stilled in its path.

He brought his arm down and the water lowered like an obedient servant, but when the train seesawed furiously again, Arjun grabbed at the holder to keep his footing.

And the wave exploded against the train.

Tavia heard the sounds of someone screaming as they fell into the raging waters.

Her legs buckled and Wesley’s arm shot to her waist, stopping her from tumbling along with them. She grabbed onto his shoulder for balance and he squeezed tightly, pressing her against him so close that Tavia could smell the magic on Wesley’s skin.

Her heartbeat quickened, faster than in any battle. Tavia could see the rain on his eyelashes and the way his graveyard eyes sparkled with the storm.

“Some girls are so easily swept off their feet,” Wesley said.

Well, *that* was one way to knock her back to sanity.

Tavia punched him in the arm, hard enough that Wesley’s hand shot from her waist.

“Next time, let me fall,” she said.

Rain painted the smile on Wesley’s lips and Tavia took in a breath that was far too deep. In this night light, in this endless storm with magic set to save them at his fingertips, Wesley looked so wild with possibility. He looked like he could make the realms a little better instead of a lot worse.

“Sir, over there!” Falk yelled, bursting through the carriage.

Tavia and Wesley broke their gaze, following the weasel’s pointed finger. In the near distance, a waterspout fell from the clouds and twisted into the ocean. It spun madly, sucking clouds into its wake, dragging their train toward it, readying to swallow them whole.

The sea began to rumble.

And then, from the growing storm, the monsters came.

Ghostly beings drenched in moonlight slipped from the vortex of water, hands straight to their sides, lower bodies dispersing to wind. They were made from a dull blue-green light, like murky seawater, and their faces melted into skinless bodies.

They had the look of humans and the look of demons.

Rising from the sea in dozens, the creatures shuddered through the train, in and out of the carriage windows and through the walls, howling down at them. Their cries turned the air to fog.

Tavia stumbled back in sync with Wesley.

“*Djnfj*,” he swore, and then reached for the radio at the front of the train. “Calling all Crafters and killers to center supply carriage now!”

He grabbed Tavia’s hand and ran, dragging her through four carriages before they practically fell into the correct one.

Some of their army had filtered there too, with Saxony, Karam, and Arjun at the forefront, staring through the open door as the dead weaved in and out. They moved in screams.

Wesley darted for the other side of the carriage and heaved open the opposite access point.

The light spilled in.

The ghosts spilled in.

“Keep together,” he said, backing away.

Tavia followed his lead, until half of them had formed a makeshift circle, backs to each other, watching the realms lose their minds.

The train steadied, stopping moments from the waterspout, and every one of them whipped out their weapons: magic and knives and guns. They scouted their new enemies, and not a one of them dared blink.

Wesley’s hand dangled beside Tavia’s, close enough that her focus drifted.

“When the time comes,” he said, “put every last one of those stolen charms to use.”

Tavia could only nod and then watch as the dead crept aboard their train.

“Lie and tell me those aren’t ghosts,” she said.

She was shoulder to shoulder with Karam, both of them with knives at the ready. Neither of them sure what use such weapons would be.

“They’re not ghosts,” Saxony said.

The rain slowed to spittle, but the wind still howled loud enough that she had to yell.

“I’m no expert,” Wesley said, “but they sure look dead to me.”

“They’re phantoms,” Saxony corrected. “Memories of the dead conjured into form.”

Tavia winced. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Saxony shuffled, like she was steadying herself for bravery. “They’re harmless.” Though she didn’t even sound like she was convincing herself. “They’re simply controlled by the spell that cast them.”

Tavia nodded, and then—

“Wait. Like if the spell told them to kill us?”

Saxony didn’t have an answer and Tavia suddenly wished that she hadn’t asked.

“This might be a good time to use that spirit magic,” Wesley said to Arjun. “Connecting with the dead sounds like a great idea right about now.”

“That’s not what it means,” Arjun practically growled over the wind. “I can only conjure spirits into willing vessels and deliver messages to and from the other side.”

Wesley clutched his gun. “Then deliver them a message to get off my train.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Arjun said. “And they’re *not* ghosts.”

The phantoms drifted closer.

“The rest of us will be if you don’t do something,” Tavia said.

But there was nothing to be done.

Just as Arjun’s powers hadn’t been a match for the storm, there was no way they would be a match for whatever these creatures were.

The Kingpin charmed this sea and all that wreaked havoc on it. They had to go through things his way, or not at all. Tavia only hoped that the Kingpin’s way didn’t involve them dying.

One of the phantoms drifted closer, its bottomless shape oozing onto the floor. It dragged itself toward them with white eyes, and it was only when it inclined its head that Tavia knew it was looking at each of them in turn.

Its mouth stretched open. “Your worth is a trial,” it croaked. “Through regrets wicked and vile.”

Its lips didn’t move, its mouth a still picture pulled down the length of its neck, as though it were only a vessel for the words. Like a *delg* bat straight from the fire-gates.

“Oh great,” Tavia said with a shiver. “It *rhymes*. That’s not creepy at all.”

Wesley turned to Saxony. “Are these the trials Eirini was talking about?”

“She never mentioned ghosts.”

“I thought they were *phantoms*,” Tavia said.

Saxony shot her a look.

Tavia racked her mind trying to think which part of her past she regretted most. There were too many things to count. When she was younger, the buskers had sung about the dangers of living in the past and how deadly it could be—they had a song for just about everything, especially remembering—but Tavia couldn’t recall a word of it now.

“The leaders among you must relieve your pasts, looking to where you rest your hearts.” The phantom cracked its head to face Wesley. “But though regrets are prone to repeat, if you wish, then the world shifts under your feet.”

“We can change the past?” Wesley asked.

“*No.*” Arjun turned to him. “You cannot alter your lives like that. Time windows are dark magic that prey on desire for change, but it is all an illusion. If you try, it will leave you in an endless loop. An alternate life you would never realize is a dream. It is why the magic is forbidden.”

“He’s right,” Saxony said. “Changing the past is impossible. I’ve told you how dangerous magic is when it invades people’s minds. It’s a one-way trip to insanity.”

“Right,” Tavia said. “No changing the past. Check. How do we pick our leaders?”

The moment she said it, five phantoms shot their arms out, fingers pointed straight at them.

Tavia. Wesley. Saxony. Karam. Arjun.

“You are the leaders,” they said in unison. And then, again, “You are the leaders.”

“Okay,” Tavia said. “It’s getting creepier.”

And suddenly she remembered the busker’s song.

*In the face of regret, get down on your knees;*

*death may be swayed by your final pleas.*

Just thinking about it made her skin itch.

“Any idea on what your regret is?” Saxony asked her.

“Being perpetually annoying,” Karam replied in Tavia’s place.

Tavia felt inclined to poke out her tongue, but she was too busy fearing for her life. She was also not happy about the prospect of dying while being judged by the Kingpin.

“Are you ready to face what must be faced, your every regret and wicked disgrace?” the phantom asked.

Wesley folded his collar and gave a curt nod.

The phantom raised a fragmented hand in the air and Tavia’s breath fogged. A beam of light pulled itself from its fingers, stretching and shaping into a doorway.

It turned black as soon as it took form, veins rippling down and spreading until it became an endless vortex of darkness.

“Whatever you see in there, don’t let it get the better of you,” Wesley said. “Don’t try to change a thing.”

He turned to Tavia and she held a hand up to stop him.

“I don’t need a lecture,” she said, but his gaze held such fierceness that she suddenly felt at a loss for words.

Her stupid heart banged madly in her chest.

“What happens if we fail?” she asked.

Karam sheathed her knife. “We die, probably.”

Tavia took that in with a nod. “Good to know.”

The doorway was like a slit in the fabric of the realms. Tavia turned her focus to Wesley, needing to see the look of fearlessness on his face before she could school one onto her own. But Wesley didn’t look fearless. He looked like he was about to throw up.

“What’s with your face?” Tavia asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “This is how my face looks. I’ve never had any complaints before.”

But the easy smirk on his lips did nothing to fool her. Tavia could see the uncertainty. She knew his many faces well enough to tell them apart.

“What is it?” she asked.

She didn’t think he would answer: Wesley never liked answering questions if he didn’t have a knife to his throat, or an agenda up his sleeve.

“I know what my regret will be,” he said.

Tavia opened her mouth to ask what it was, but Wesley was already stepping into the darkness. Tavia reached out a hand for him, but he was gone in a blink and all she could do was watch.

Karam, Saxony, and Arjun stood close enough that their shoulders brushed. Warriors prepared to take on whatever the Kingpin threw at them, in order to avenge their people.

Tavia didn’t know what regret Wesley thought he was going to come across and she certainly didn’t know what her own would be, but she decided that it didn’t matter. Whatever was waiting on the other side wasn’t important, because Wesley would be waiting too.

They would face it together, all of them, enemies and allies.

And they would make damn sure to win.