Her Father's Bidding

It was a cool night, and Alexandra could feel a breeze blowing in from the ocean. It was less noticeable as she descended down the hill, but she was becoming chilly in her pajamas, even beneath the robe and the cloak. She felt no fear as she approached the trees, but she did slow her steps a little, wondering how she was going to track Maximilian. Her impulse to follow him had been just that – an impulse. Now that she was out of the house, down the hill, and about to enter a dark forest that she'd been told was both haunted and dangerous, she realized that she probably could have used a plan.

Hagar, she thought, was leading Maximilian to their father. She turned her head to look at her own raven, still sitting on her shoulder.

“Charlie,” she ordered. “Find Maximilian for me.”

Charlie had been remarkably cooperative thus far, being woken up and then carried along on Alexandra's sudden unplanned adventure, but the raven squawked in protest now.

“Find Max,” Alexandra repeated. “But don't let him or Hagar see you.”

Charlie was smart, and Alexandra usually felt that her familiar understood her perfectly. But she worried that she might be asking too much this time. The raven looked at her, and then took off, wings beating against the night air. Not far away, she heard an owl's call, and realized that the woods might be dangerous for Charlie, too.

That didn't stop her from proceeding forward, though.

At first, the path Maximilian had taken was clear, but soon there was only undergrowth and leaves beneath her feet, and then she was pushing her way through briars and brambles. The sound seemed loud to her, and she stopped every few yards, to listen for either noises Maximilian might be making ahead of her, or indications that she'd been heard. She heard only more forest sounds. She shivered and was grateful for the thickness of her cloak, and her boots, keeping the briars and branches from scratching at her.

Up in the trees, she saw a red light pulsate briefly and then dim, and something scampered off through the branches. She watched, and saw more red lights up in the treetops, blinking in retreat. She wished she'd taken Magical Ecology after all. She hoped whatever those things were were fleeing from her, and not from something else.

She kept her wand in her hand, ready to cast a hex at anything that came out of the shadows at her. But she tried not to let herself get too tense – she didn't want to hex Charlie.

Charlie didn't return, though, which was starting to bother her. As she proceeded deeper into the woods, and was surrounded by the sounds of things creeping, slithering, hopping, and flapping all around her, she realized she had no idea where she was going, and might, in fact, be lost.

When a ghostly figure appeared in the darkness in front of her, she was actually relieved. A ghost couldn't hurt her. It might even be helpful.

This ghost didn't look very friendly, though. He was a bearded man in a tall hat and voluminous robes, lined with ruffles and lace, and more rings than Alexandra had ever seen one person wearing before, clustered on his ghostly white fingers. She could see right through him, but it had become very dark, with the treetops hiding the sky from view, so he was a bright glow between the trees.

“Hi,” she said. “I think I might be lost.”

The ghost scowled at her.

“I don't suppose you saw another, uh, mortal, walking this way? A boy, a few years older than me?”

“You mean Maximilian,” the ghost said gravely.

“You know him?”

“Of course I know him.” The ghostly wizard's scowl deepened. “He and his father are the last of the Thorns.” He stared at her. “What are you doing in these woods, little girl? Are you a witch? These woods are too dangerous for children, even witches.”

“I am a witch.” Alexandra held up her wand. “And I'm following Maximilian. Do you know where he went?”

“Why are you following Maximilian?”

“Because I want to know where he's going.”

The ghost looked more annoyed. “Who are you, girl?” he demanded.

She drew herself up proudly, looked the ghost in the eye, and declared: “I'm Alexandra Quick,” letting her voice ring out in the forest, as if her name was one that even a ghost who'd died hundreds of years ago should know.

He raised an eyebrow at her, and shook his head. “I have never heard of the Quicks.”

“No?” she retorted. “Well, Maximilian and his father aren't the last of the Thorns, unless you don't count girls.”

“Girls do not carry the name.” The wizard regarded her for a moment. “Are you one of Abraham's daughters?”

She nodded, biting back another argumentative comment.

“Then you are my great-great-great-great granddaughter,” he sighed. “I am Absalom Thorn.”

“Oh.” She looked at her four-times great grandfather, wondering how many other ancestors might be haunting these woods. “Pleased to meet you. Do you know where my brother is?”

“Meeting his father at the family crypt,” Absalom Thorn replied, in a disapproving tone. “Abraham meets his son there, in the dead of night, disturbing the peace of his ancestors. He banishes us from the crypt, fearful that one of us might be interrogated by the Inquisitors.”

Alexandra shook her head, amazed that the Office of Special Inquisitions would even interrogate ghosts, but Thorn seemed to interpret this as a gesture of sympathy, because his expression softened, even as he continued to lecture her. “You shouldn't be following your brother into these woods, girl. We ghosts are no threat to you – not even the red savages – but there are living things here that are. Not to mention pits, quicksand, ravines...”

“Will you show me the way to the family crypt? I didn't even know I had ancestors here.”

The wizard opened his mouth again, then sighed. “I suspect your father will not be pleased.”

Too bad, she thought, but she suspected her great-great-great-great grandfather would not be impressed by her lack of filial respect. As she followed Absalom Thorn through the trees, something flapped by her ear, startling her, and she almost stabbed Charlie with her wand.

“Charlie!” she gasped, as her familiar landed on her shoulder.

“Alexandra,” said the raven.

“Shh. We have to be quiet,” she whispered, as she tried to follow the ghost without tripping over branches or crashing loudly through bushes. “Did you lead him to me?”

Charlie didn't answer, and neither did Absalom Thorn, who was on the verge of drifting out of sight, unimpeded by the forest's undergrowth, and apparently not inclined to slow down for his corporeal descendant. Alexandra moved as quietly as she could, but she was forced to sacrifice stealth for speed.

She saw more ghosts milling about ahead. They all parted for Alexandra and her great-great-great-great grandfather. Most of them looked like the elder Thorn, dressed in archaic wizard clothing, though one man was wearing a uniform and carrying a sword.

“Are Abraham and Maximilian still in the crypt?” Absalom Thorn asked.

“Yes, sir,” replied the man in uniform. He was dark-haired (as dark as a ghost's hair could look, anyway), and rather handsome. He looked curiously at Alexandra and her raven.

“This is another of Abraham's children,” Thorn told them.

“What are you doing here?” asked a woman with voluminous robes billowing around her, and an equally voluminous bonnet surrounding her head like a great ghostly mushroom. Her tone was disapproving, but Alexandra was not paying attention to the ghosts. She was looking at a large, stone building, covered in moss and ivy, sitting amidst the trees, with no path leading to or from it. It looked completely out of place, as if the forest had simply grown around it. With the only illumination being the few stars whose light penetrated through the foliage above, and the glow of the ghosts, it was a looming, spooky presence. But Alexandra felt excitement, not fear, and any nervousness was due to uncertainty: how could she sneak close enough to find out what her father and Maximilian were talking about, without getting caught?

She began to move forward, picking her feet up carefully as they tangled in vines, trying not to step on branches or old leaves.

“What are you doing?” demanded Absalom Thorn, while the woman who had addressed her earlier began muttering about “disagreeable modern witches, raised ill and without manners!”

“I'm going to join my father and my brother,” she whispered. “I'll tell them you're mad at being kicked out of your crypt.”

“They know this already,” grumbled Thorn, but he didn't call after her, and none of the ghosts followed her.

She had to go halfway around the large shadowy structure, until she found what looked like an entrance, and saw light coming from inside. Charlie stirred restlessly on her shoulder, and she put a finger over her lips. “Shh, Charlie,” she pleaded, in a tiny, almost breathless voice. The raven sat still, but she could feel the bird's talons digging into her shoulder. She winced slightly, but didn't push Charlie away. Instead, she crept closer, until she set foot on a cold marble step, and then she turned sideways, tiptoeing up to the entrance of the crypt, afraid some of the light spilling from within would touch her.

“... two more months, Maximilian! Only two more months before you leave Charmbridge! You've been there for the better part of a year, and you are no closer than when you first joined the Mors Mortis Society.”

Alexandra recognized her father's voice. He sounded irate and disappointed.

“I'm doing the best I can,” Maximilian replied. His tone was sullen.

“Are you truly? From what you've told me, the Dearborn girl seems to be closer to Mr. Manuelito than you are.”

“Do you want me to try getting 'close' to him like that? I don't think that's the way he bends, but –”

“DO NOT BE SMART WITH ME!” Abraham Thorn's voice rose to a roar, echoing out of the crypt and causing more night birds to flutter out of the trees around it, chirping and croaking in alarm.

This was followed by a long period of silence. Alexandra's heart was hammering in her chest. She wanted very badly to lean forward, just a little, to see her father and brother inside, but she remembered how she'd been caught when she was eavesdropping on Darla and John.

When her father spoke again, he sounded perfectly calm, as if he hadn't just erupted in anger.

“Your name and your talents should have been enough. Have you been holding back, Maximilian? Have you balked at doing everything you can to convince him of your commitment to the Dark Arts?”

Maximilian was silent.

“You do understand how important this is?” Abraham Thorn asked gently.

“I do. Of course I do. I wish you'd stop questioning my commitment.” Maximilian sounded sullen again.

There was a pause, then their father said, “You should let Alexandra –”

“No.”

Alexandra was impressed – and proud – that Maximilian still had the nerve to defy their father like that. But it sounded as if this was a recurring disagreement, and she held her breath, trying to hear what followed.

“She's clever and resourceful. She would have been enormously helpful if she'd stayed in the Society with you, but even without being a member, she could perhaps influence her friend...”

“I don't think they're friends, anymore. And Alexandra isn't interested in any of this. She's just a silly girl, Father. She does things on impulse that seem exciting or rebellious, because she has a contrary nature, but she's like Julia, she doesn't actually take anything seriously. And I don't want her involved.”

“I don't think your assessment of Alexandra is correct, Maximilian. She isn't like my other daughters. And this is too important–”

“Alexandra!”

Alexandra jumped. The voice came from overhead, and when she looked up, she saw a large, winged shape sitting atop a marble column, looking down at her.

“Alexandra!” the voice squawked again, and Alexandra raised a finger to her lips and hissed, “Ssh!” knowing it was already too late. Hagar loudly called out, “Alexandra!” a third time, and then Charlie launched off her shoulder, flapping and squawking, but Hagar spread her wings, cawed once, and with a snap of her beak, sent Charlie diving frantically away.

Then someone grabbed her by the back of her cloak, and lifted her off the ground.

“Leggo!” she shouted, trying to whip her wand around to hex whoever it was, but a strong hand closed around her wrist, and then she was spun about, and she found herself staring up at the long-haired blond man she had danced with at the Cotillion – or rather, the man whose appearance her father had borrowed.

Her father and brother had both rushed to the entrance of the crypt, and were now holding up their lit wands and staring at Alexandra and the man who had seized her.

“Alexandra.” Her father did not sound quite as surprised as he should have, nor as angry as she expected. “Were you spying on us?”

“No, I just like hanging around crypts,” she snapped, glaring at the blond man. She saw no point in lying, but it was difficult to look at her father.

The blond man smirked, and she didn't see her father's reaction, but his voice, when he spoke again, sounded almost amused. “Let her go, Zachary.”

Zachary released her. She thought of hexing him, for a moment, but quickly decided against it, and shoved her wand back into a pocket in her cloak. She gave him one more glare, then reluctantly turned to face her father, rubbing her wrist.

He was standing in the entrance to the crypt with his arms folded across his chest, while Maximilian, behind him, looked murderous – and pale.

“How much did you overhear?” her father asked quietly.

Though he seemed to be taking this with good grace – and he had been, as he kept telling her, remarkably patient – there was something about his tone that made Alexandra think that lying or smarting off right now would be unwise. So she replied, in a voice even more sullen than Maximilian's, “You knew all along that Max was in the Mors Mortis Society. You approved! He's been on a mission for you, not for the Wizard Justice Department.” She turned her gaze on her brother, who was glaring at her, but his gaze wavered when she glared back at him. “You've been lying to me all along. You've both been lying to me!”

“Maximilian has been trying to protect you.”

“I don't want protection!” she yelled. “I want the truth!”

“Stop shouting,” her father commanded. He spoke calmly – perfectly calmly – yet any impulse Alexandra had to yell again died instantly. She forced herself to look at him again, glowering in silence.

Maximilian spoke: “I will not involve her.” He couldn't meet his father's eyes, when Abraham Thorn turned his head, but he managed to keep his voice steady. “I'll do what you ask, Father. I will not fail. But without her.” He gestured at Alexandra. “I meant what I said before.”

Alexandra was burning with curiosity – and anger – but held her tongue. The older wizard looked at his son for a long time, then turned to look at his daughter.

“As you wish,” he said at last. “Take your sister back to the house, then.”

Maximilian nodded, and stepped around his father, to stand next to Alexandra.

“That's it?” Alexandra demanded. “No explanation? Aren't you even going to speak to Julia? Or does she not deserve any attention either, since she's just another one of your daughters?”

Maximilian muttered something – maybe a warning – and she heard the other wizard, 'Zachary,' let out a startled breath.

Her father's eyes flashed. “Alexandra, I'm making many allowances for you, but if you are intent on finding out just where the limit of my patience lies, it is close, and I assure you, you do not want to arrive there.” But almost as soon as he said that, his face softened, and he reached a hand out and put it on her cheek.

“I will speak to Julia, though not tonight,” he said quietly. “I love all my daughters. Never doubt that, my dear child.”

She stared back at him, wanting to say a great many things. What she said at last was, “I met our great-great-etcetera grandfather, Absalom Thorn. Did you really kick our ancestors out of their crypt?”

He blinked, then smiled ruefully. “Only for an hour. And Absalom Thorn likes to complain. Do you really think ghosts spend all their time congregating in a crypt? I've done them no harm, Alexandra.”

He leaned forward, and kissed her cheek, before she could pull away. She wasn't sure whether she would have, if he'd given her an opportunity to do so, but she held still, thinking about everything she'd heard and what her father and her brother had told her, and what they hadn't. “Next time, we will talk in less dreary surroundings, and in more pleasant circumstances.”

“Another promise,” she replied, in a flat tone.

Abraham Thorn sighed, then looked at Maximilian. “Take care of your sisters, Maximilian.”

He nodded. “I will.”

Hagar descended onto Thorn's shoulder, as if responding to a wordless summons, and he nodded to the other man. Then, with a sudden puff of air, the two wizards were gone.

“Come on, Alex.” Maximilian put a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off and began stomping back in the direction she'd come.

Charlie returned to her shoulder, with a quiet squawk. She reached a hand up and stroked the bird's head.

“You're angry at me,” Maximilian muttered, as he followed after her.

“You think?” She realized she didn't really know the way back, but she assumed Maximilian would say something if they were going the wrong way. She certainly wasn't going to ask. They passed through the gathering of ghosts again.

“Your sister lacks courtesy, much as your father does, Maximilian,” complained Absalom Thorn, as Alexandra walked past him without a word or a glance in his direction.

“I'm sorry, sir,” Maximilian replied. “I can't do much about my father. I'll speak to my sister.”

“Don't apologize for me!” she snapped over her shoulder.

They continued walking through the woods. Maximilian was silent, but eventually they reached a clearing, and then Alexandra could see Croatoa before them, sitting at the top of the hill. She continued walking up the path to the house.

When they were almost to the door, Maximilian put a hand on her shoulder again, stopping her.

“Don't speak of this to Julia,” he warned. It sounded like half request, half command. She turned to face him.

“Of course not,” she replied. “Julia's just a silly girl, like me. We're only interested in silly things.”

“Alex –”

She didn't let him finish. She opened the front doors, and walked inside, and then stopped as she was immediately confronted by Deezie and Rolly. She'd forgotten about the house-elves.

“What is Miss doing out so late?” exclaimed Deezie, looking horrified, with her hands over her mouth.

“Why didn't Master tell us he was taking his sister with him?” Rolly moaned, as Maximilian entered.

“Deezie will fix Miss a bath,” Deezie offered, “snap-snap-snap!”

“No!” Alexandra whispered, and then Maximilian ordered: “Deezie, Rolly, return to your rooms. Don't speak of this to anyone. Especially not Mother. Understand?”

The elves paused, looked at him unhappily, and then nodded.

“Go.” Maximilian's voice was cold and commanding, sounding much like his father for a moment. The two elves disappeared with a crack.

“Why would they obey you over your mother?” Alexandra asked.

“Deezie and Rolly stay here and obey Mother because Father told them to,” he replied quietly. “But they're still his elves.”

She turned and looked at him silently for a moment. She could only see half his face; the house was lit by a few candles, but it was mostly dark. Then she walked upstairs, with her brother following, but they didn't say anything more to each other as they returned to their rooms.

“I'm going to miss you, Alexandra,” Julia sighed. She wrapped her arms around her sister, squeezing her tightly, and Alexandra returned the hug easily, though without squeezing so hard. “I'm so glad to have another sister! I hope you enjoyed yourself, even if the Cotillion didn't... didn't turn out exactly the way we hoped.”

“I enjoyed everything. I'm really glad I came,” Alexandra replied truthfully. She smiled at the older girl. “I'm glad to have a sister, too.”

They were back at the Blacksburg Wizardrail station, and the two of them were alone, for a moment, except for Charlie, sitting in a cage at Alexandra's feet. Maximilian was tipping a porter-elf and giving him directions as to the disposition of their luggage, and Ms. King was standing by the carriage.

Julia's eyes glistened, as if she might be about to cry, but she kissed Alexandra on the cheek. “I hope you're glad to have a brother, too. I know you and Max quarreled again; I can tell by the way you're being so short with each other. But it will be a long ride back to Chicago if you don't make up.”

Alexandra nodded. “It'll be all right,” she assured Julia, though in truth, she had no idea what she was going to say to Maximilian on the long trip back. She was still blisteringly angry at him, though she'd mostly managed not to show it to Julia and Ms. King.

“Please write,” her sister urged, as Maximilian headed their way. “And come visit again, maybe in the summer?”

“I'd like that.” Alexandra nodded. “And I will write.”

“You're always welcome here, Alexandra.” Ms. King had joined Maximilian at their side. She held out her arms, and took Alexandra into another smothering embrace. “I mean that.”

“Thank you,” Alexandra replied, in a muffled voice, until Ms. King released her. “I really enjoyed myself.”

“And you didn't even see half of the island, let alone the rest of New Roanoke!” Julia exclaimed.

“Next time,” Maximilian promised. Alexandra looked away from him, and Julia sighed.

Maximilian and Julia embraced, and Julia kissed her brother on both cheeks. “Behave yourself, and be nice, you great awful snarly. I hope Charmbridge has taught you some manners by the time we return home for the summer.”

“If I haven't learned any yet, what will another two months do?” he replied dryly. He kissed Julia back. “Study hard, and if you're ever having problems – if you start hearing bad things at Salem, now that –”

“I'll be fine, Max. Your sisters are actually not frail, helpless creatures who will be done in by gossip and nasty rumors.” Julia smiled at him, and Alexandra snickered.

Only as Maximilian and Alexandra began ascending the steps did it occur to Alexandra to ask, “Isn't Julia taking a train to Salem? Does hers leave later?”

“She's going by Portkey,” Maximilian replied. “The Portkeys here are down the road, not at the Wizardrail station like in Chicago.”

Alexandra remembered now the booths she'd seen at the Chicago Wizardrail station. She immediately wanted to know more, and she could see that Maximilian knew it, so she bit her tongue, while curiosity warred with her desire to stay angry at him.

She didn't have to make a decision immediately, as inside the station, they found long lines, quite unlike the sparse crowd that had greeted them on arrival. A sign flashing overhead said: “The Roanoke Wizardrail Auror Authority Has Imposed Travel Restrictions On All Wizardrail and Portkey Transportation. Please Be Patient.”

“Travel restrictions?” Alexandra muttered, as she saw the witches and wizards waiting to board the trains pass between two cloaked, red-vested Aurors, who were holding out their wands, conducting some sort of inspection on each passenger.

“They always do something like this, after an incident, to show they're still in control,” Maximilian muttered back.

“Incident?” Alexandra's curiosity was too great now to pretend she wasn't speaking to him.

“Don't you ever actually listen to the Wizard Wireless? Official story is, the Governor of Roanoke and half his staff, and most of the Aurors who were watching the Cotillion, are suffering from ghost sickness, unleashed on them by renegade spirits.”

“Ghosts can do that?” Alexandra wondered if maybe she should have been more respectful to her great-great-great-great grandfather, but Maximilian shook his head.

“Not unless there's Dark magic involved. Ghost sickness is an old witches' tale. They blame things on ghosts when they don't want to admit that someone used a curse that none of the Governor's security detail could stop.”

Alexandra thought about that, as they inched forward in line. An old witch in traditional black robes and a pointed witch's hat squawked indignantly as the Aurors pulled her out of line, holding up a snake that she was insisting was her familiar. They threatened to snap her wand if she kept fussing. She was taken away, into one of the station's back rooms. Another wizard was taken out of line, for interrogation concerning something he had in his pocket.

“Anything they can use as an excuse to accuse someone of Dark affiliations,” Maximilian muttered.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Alexandra announced suddenly.

“What?” he demanded, giving her a funny look, but she turned and hurriedly walked to the station's restroom, which had a sign saying 'Witches' and a stick figure with a triangular skirt and hat. She carried Charlie with her, and a couple of older witches gave her odd looks as she brought the caged raven into the restroom. She looked around, and was relieved to see an open window, high on the far wall. She went into the stall closest to that wall.

She unlatched Charlie's cage, and took her locket from around her neck.

“Charlie,” she whispered, listening for other witches entering nearby stalls. “I need you to fly away. Find me later. Can you do that?”

Charlie clucked. Alexandra hoped that indicated agreement. She wrapped the chain around one leg, and the raven's talons closed on the gold locket.

“Bring this back to me, Charlie,” she whispered, and leaned forward to kiss the raven on the top of its head. Charlie made a soft warbling noise, and then Alexandra lifted her arm, tossing the bird into the air, and Charlie took off, rising to the window and flapping off into the sky.

Maximilian was waiting for her when she emerged from the restroom. She had left the cage in a waste basket behind her, after using her wand to crumple it into a tangled ball of crushed wire. His eyes fell on her empty hands, and noting the absence of Charlie, he nodded. “I didn't think of that,” he mumbled.

“I figured,” she muttered back.

They got back into line, and inched their way forward again. When they reached the Aurors, the two wizards waved their wands at them, and demanded to know their names.

“Maximilian King,” said Maximilian.

“Alexandra Quick,” said Alexandra.

The Aurors looked at them, and studied a scroll one was holding. Alexandra could see an image shifting and flowing on the parchment, as if faces were forming there to match the names, but then the Auror lifted it so that she could no longer see over the edge. They both scrutinized the two teenagers again, and Alexandra was sure she and her brother were going to be pulled from the line. She knew the Confederation Wizard Census recorded their real names.

“Go on,” said the Auror not holding the scroll, waving his wand. Both their eyes stayed on Alexandra and Maximilian as they continued past the checkpoint, and boarded the Roanoke Underhill to Chicago.

Alexandra sat in their first-class compartment, arms folded across her chest, with the window open, waiting for Charlie. Maximilian quietly took off his cloak and uniform jacket, folding them neatly before he sat down opposite her, and studied her.

“That was good thinking,” he said at last.

She didn't answer.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment again?” he asked.

She looked out the window, and Maximilian shook his head and leaned back in his seat, and didn't say anything else for a while.

Alexandra was starting to worry, as the train blew its horn and began to vibrate with movement, and then Charlie came flapping through the window to land on the table between her and Maximilian.

She kissed her fingers and laid them on the bird's beak, then carefully unwound the locket from around the raven's leg, and let her familiar have it to play with. This mollified Charlie a bit, as did being free to flap about the compartment uncaged, though Maximilian didn't look thrilled by this.

As the train began moving, Alexandra took out her book, The Lands Below, and Other Native Muggle Tales. Maximilian let her read until they had passed Dominion Station and gone underground, and then he asked, “How long are you planning to keep this up?”

“Keep what up?” Alexandra asked, turning a page without looking at him.

“Giving me the silent treatment. Acting like a brat.”

“Oh, until I have something important to tell you, like whether I've found a nice pureblood boy to marry, or when you have something important to tell me, like whether you think my hair would look better in curls, or if I should wear a lavender robe or a blue and silver one... you know, important things that girls care about.”

“You're being foolish!” he snapped.

“Well, of course I am! I'm just a silly girl who doesn't take anything seriously. Just like Julia, who you obviously think is an empty-headed, spoiled little booger...”

“Julia is probably smarter than I am. When she's not giggling over boys or agonizing over what to wear, she has a sharp mind, and she doesn't miss much. And you take far too many things seriously, more than is good for you. You're clever too, wicked clever.”

Alexandra looked up at him slowly. Maximilian was regarding her with a perfectly serious expression.

“Then why did you say what you said to our father?”

“He'll use you, Alexandra,” he said wearily.

“Like he's using you?”

Maximilian nodded.

“So you have been lying to me all along.” Her eyes smoldered. “You know how much I hate being lied to! You know how much I hate it when people hide the truth from me! I believed you! I trusted you! And you're nothing but a big fat liar!”

Maximilian winced. “I wanted to protect you...”

“STOP PROTECTING ME!” she shouted, so loudly they might have heard her in the next compartment. Charlie squawked in alarm, almost dropping the locket. Maximilian winced again, but glared at her.

“Lying to me isn't protecting me. My mother, my father, Ms. Grimm, everyone's been lying to me,” Alexandra said, in a quieter voice. “I wanted you to be different.”

Maximilian looked away.

“Why do you do what he says, if you don't think it's right?” she demanded.

“I didn't say I don't think it's right,” he muttered.

“It's just too dangerous for me to be involved? But you'll let him make you do Dark Arts stuff you don't want to do? And watch while Darla does things she shouldn't be doing? And all for what? So he can keep giving us all a bad reputation? How is it going to make our lives better if he goes and curses the Governor of Roanoke? Like that's not going to make people fear him even more? And you play mysterious secret agent games to help him, and then lie to your sisters, and your mother. Your friends, too, I'll bet.”

“Stop it,” he grated through his teeth, and she did stop, because she could see how her words stung him. His face was drawn up, angry and unhappy, and his entire body was tense as he sat across from her.

“I don't agree with everything Father does,” he said at last. “But I believe in his cause. I agreed to help him, on the condition that he leave Julia out of it. It's not like he's just randomly cursing politicians, Alexandra. He mixes up with some really Dark sorcerers, he uses magic no one should use, and he believes the ends justify the means. I don't know if they do. But this isn't a game.”

“Tell me, Max,” she pleaded. “Tell me what's going on. I've kept all your secrets, even when I shouldn't have. Don't tell me I'm just a girl, or I'm only thirteen. I'm clever enough to figure out for myself whether I want to let our father use me.” She studied him, as he hunched his shoulders and looked more miserable and uncertain, and she spoke more softly. “Wouldn't you rather be able to talk about it? I know you can't tell Julia. She's stronger than you think she is, but I think she's already made her mind up about our father. You can't say anything to your mother, she'd go nuts. And your friends wouldn't understand, would they? My friends still don't really understand, even after they found out you're my brother.”

He looked up at her, and they stared at one another for several long minutes. The train rattled and rumbled, in the darkness, but that was the only sound. Even Charlie was quiet and still.

“You have a dark side to you,” he murmured. “Like him.”

“So do you,” she replied quietly. “Don't pretend you don't. That's what makes us different from Julia, isn't it? She might be as strong as us and as smart as us, but she could never go there.”

“I don't want you to go there.”

“That's not your choice to make.” She glanced at Charlie, who seemed to be studying both of them as intently as they were studying each other. She reached out a hand, and stroked the bird's glossy black feathers. Charlie clucked soothingly. “I quit the Mors Mortis Society because I couldn't stand what they were doing. That was my choice. But you stayed. So who should be worrying about who?”

Maximilian smiled wanly. “You can be pretty convincing, when you're not throwing a tantrum.”

She gave him a sour smile in return. “I can be wicked clever, too. And resourceful. I might even be helpful.”

He let out a long breath, staring out the window, though there was nothing but darkness there.

“There are ways to make you give up secrets,” he said. “Methods the WJD can use, if they suspect you're lying to them.”

“You mean like the Cruciatus Curse?” Her eyes were fixed on Charlie, as she continued stroking the bird's feathers, and her voice was barely audible.

He jerked his head around to stare at her, then shook his head. “Less crude than that. The Cruciatus Curse is supposed to be illegal, no matter what – though Father says the Confederation does use it, in secret, when they can get away with it. But there are things like Legilimency and Veritaserum. Father has trained me a little in Occlumency – that's shielding your thoughts against Legilimency – but I'd never be able to withstand a real interrogation. I have a potion I can take if I think I'm going to be dosed with Veritaserum. It... reacts badly in combination with Veritaserum, and makes it look like a Veritaserum overdose.”

Alexandra blinked, as horrified as she was fascinated. Maximilian really was playing secret agent games. She felt a flash of anger at her father. Who was he to be making his sixteen-year-old son do such things? But then she remembered telling Maximilian, not two minutes ago, that what she did wasn't his choice to make. She could hardly pass judgment on his choices.

“So you're saying you can't tell me because Diana Grimm or someone else from the WJD might use Legilimency or Veritaserum on me?”

“If they thought you know more than you're telling them.” He nodded.

“But I already know you're a double-agent working for our father,” she pointed out. “So if they get that out of me, you're screwed anyway.”

He frowned. “I don't like the words you use.”

She rolled her eyes. “The point is, I know enough now that if I can't convince Ms. Grimm that I'm still just an angry teenage girl, and all Dad has ever said to me is that he loves me and wishes we could spend more time together –” Her tone was mocking; “– then you're in trouble. So you might as well trust me the rest of the way.”

Now Maximilian blinked. He seemed to be trying to find a hole in her logic.

“Either trust me, or just Obliviate me,” she said bitterly.

He started. “How did you know I've learned Obliviation?”

“I didn't,” she admitted, surprised. “He really has taught you things, hasn't he?”

He frowned, then nodded slowly. “All right.”

She raised an eyebrow. “All right?”

“I'll tell you. I'll tell you what I'm doing. But on one condition: leave the 'secret agent games' to me. You can moan all you like, but you're not ready to join the Thorn Circle or do Father's bidding. Promise you won't.”

She thought a moment, then nodded. “All right. I promise.”

It was an easy promise to make. She wouldn't do her father's bidding. Whatever she did, she told herself, she was going to do because she wanted to.