The Thief

nothing and no one.” He sighed. “And I trained him to be that way.”

Camille stared at him. “Why would you do that?”

“I’m selfish and petty,” he said simply. “I wanted to punish his parents. And when I found out they’d given birth to the Wolf, I knew how to do it. I molded him into the worst monster of them all, and his mother was forced to kill him.” He looked at Camille, his dark eyes impassive. “She ran him through with the Tailor’s Sword. It was the only time I’ve seen it used.”

She held up her left arm, displaying the iron surrounding it.

He sighed. “Yes.”

“You said you didn’t steal it.”

“I lied,” he said easily. “I took it from the Tailors sixteen years ago. And then, when I realized what you were, I had it reforged into the bracer. It seeks to eradicate magic - it always has, like any Null. A change in shape won’t alter its purpose. But this way - it would only limit you, not destroy you. As a feral, you can’t perform magic, but you’re still made of it; it flows through your veins. The bracer siphons it off when you’re in danger of losing yourself.”

“Siphons what off?”

He wasn’t quite looking at her anymore, his gaze on her left arm and the iron circling it.

“My blood?” she realized suddenly. “It drinks my blood?”

He said nothing.

“What is wrong with you?” Camille exclaimed, pushing from the doorframe and backing away. “That is sick! How could you do this to me?”

“To keep you alive,” he said. “To keep you from hurting other people. To save you the guilt.”

“You think I would hurt people?” Camille snapped. “You think so little of me, that I would, what, get mad and just kill people for no reason?”

“I know the Wolf,” Gabriel said. “I’ve seen centuries of it. A new one every fifteen or twenty years - every one different, but somehow still the same. They never last long once they reach the age, they’re just too obvious. Too openly violent. And now that the Ender has started hunting it...well.” He shook his head. “Let’s just say that the last one making it to twenty was a miracle I’ll never understand.”

The thing on her arm seemed horrifying now, like an alien parasite.

“Camille, please,” he begged, “please listen to me. Don’t ever take it off. Not ever. I won’t be around forever - ”

“You’re immortal,” she retorted.

“I won’t be around forever,” he stated again, firmly. “And there’s no guarantee a Null will be able to keep you in check when you turn sixteen, and the worst of it comes crashing down on you. You need this bracer to keep you sane. As long as you can keep your wits, you can beat it.”

Camille looked up at him, wanting to believe him. “You sure about that?” After all the lies he’d told, she just couldn’t fully believe him anymore.

“What did you think all the training was for?” He ruffled her hair fondly, but his smile was weak around the edges. “If you quit fighting, I’ll force feed you milk tea and chocolate croissants until you get so fat you have to be rolled around like a giant golden beach ball.”

Camille pulled a face. “Ugh! Milk tea?”

Gabriel shrugged, and turned back to stirring the bowl. “Your choice. Now go put some more glitter on that posterboard of yours, that godforsaken festival is tomorrow and I want the sight of it to sicken Rin.”

Camille smiled, though her heart wasn’t in it. “That, I can definitely do.”

It was normal banter, but she felt as if, somehow, something had ended forever.

The school the next day was a riot of color, with streamers and balloons strung from every corner. Delicate paper snowflakes hung from the ceiling. Jul reached up a long, thin arm and twirled one on its string. “I think that’s the closest we’ll see to snow this year,” she said.

Camille chuckled, carrying a box containing their display materials. Jul had the posterboard folded and tucked under her arm, trying not to hit anyone with it as they wove through the crowd in the hall. Even though the festival hadn’t technically started yet, most of the students were there setting up, and some of the families and visitors had already found their way in. Camille was wearing her kendo uniform since she was expected to participate in some exhibition matches later. Truthfully, she was grateful to have the excuse not to dress up, like most everyone else was. Jul was wearing some sort of dark violet sheathe dress that looked like silk with a layer of lace over it, that managed to make her look even taller and thinner than usual. Or maybe it was the heels.

They followed the flow into the gymnasium, weaving among the tables of half-assembled science projects.

“Where’s Gabriel? Didn’t he come in with you?” Jul asked, and Camille nodded her chin towards him talking with Ms. Miller off by a table of punch and cookies. He was back to his usual self, if more sharply dressed than usual - none of the temper he’d shown last night was present.

“Your grandmother?” Camille asked.

“She dropped me off,” Jul said, finding their table among the lineup and removing the sheet of paper printed with Graham, Ryan, Sakamoto, Teague. “Said she’d come by later, once the festival actually got going. I got the impression this isn’t really her sort of thing.” A half smile quirked her face as she unfolded the cardboard.

So Bea was at home. And Gabriel was distracted. Her own absence would likely go unnoticed for half an hour or more.

Handing Jul the box, she said, “I’ll be right back, ok?” Glancing over at Gabriel laughing at something Charlotte had said, she told Jul, “If Gabriel asks, say I forgot something at the cafe.”

“Okay,” Jul said. She looked confused, but accepted the supplies. “Just don’t make me do this thing alone, alright?”

Camille smiled. “I won’t.” Her friend’s stage fright was nothing if not predictable. Pulling on her favorite hoodie over her gi, she hurried out to the parking lot and took off at a jog. At this pace, she reached the Graham house in a mere five minutes.

Camille knocked on the peeling wood door, peering back at the decrepit Cadillac in Bea’s driveway. She knew that Jul was waiting for her, but she didn’t know when she’d get this chance again.

Bea opened the door, surprise clear on her face. “Camille?”

“Tell me,” she said, “about Gabriel.”

Mac

“Destin can drive us, Mom! It’s right around the corner, you don’t have to go!” I call out, standing in front of the refrigerator. I’m starving, but all I see is condiments and leftover tuna casserole. If she’d let us go to the festival on our own, we could swing through a drive thru...my stomach rumbles at the prospect.

“How many times do I have to remind you that you’re not riding with anyone who doesn’t have their license?” she calls back, two rooms away. “And it’s not right around the corner, but I don’t care how close it is. No license, no ride.”

I’m already uncomfortable, dressed in the sort of clothes that are usually reserved for church. Hayley, because she’s on some decorating committee, had needed to be at the school earlier, so she’d been dropped off by Dad hours ago on his way to the airport for a business trip. That still leaves me and Destin needing a ride to the high school for the main festivities, but I still don’t see why Mom has to be so strict about who does the driving.

There’s a loud knock on the front door.

My mom calls from the living room, “If that’s another tracter, quote them something nice and long from the Old Testament about judgment and hellfire, and then ever-so-politely tell them we attend church twice a week and shut the door. Why anyone would go door-to-door in the Bible Belt...I swear...it’s like trying to sell candles to a candlemaker.”

I smile, reaching for the handle, because it would be great if I could remember a huge judgment-y passage from the Bible just to see the look on their face.