24 Fritzi

24

Fritzi

I cannot spare more than a glance for Rochus and Philomena. My body springs into action before I can make rational sense of anything; I flare my hands and fling my intention into the wild magic simmering within me, around me, until one word channels into my focus: restrain .

Vines come slithering across the floorboards, punching up through the wood planks. They twine around Dieter's ankles before he lifts the stone nestled in a pouch against his chest and every speck of water within the plants sucks out, beads of moisture hovering in the air, withering the vines to dried husks.

"My turn," Dieter coos, and punches the air between us.

Alois, closest, dives at him. Cornelia cries out while scrambling for spell components in her bag. Otto draws a sword, his face pale as his boots trek through the puddles of blood.

The water Dieter ripped from my vines gathers into an orb as wide as his chest. It slams first into Alois, and he flies back, smashing into a wall of shelves. They all come down around him as he crumbles, vials and jars and plants shattering in the impact when he drops in an unconscious heap on the floor. Cornelia shouts, twisting toward him, and that beat of pause is enough for the water orb to pivot and collide with her, tossing her across the council chamber as effortlessly as if she were an empty flour sack. She spins through the air and crashes somewhere far off, hidden behind tables and furniture.

Otto remains, and I scream, voice tearing against my throat, wordless, senseless, as Dieter bends, controlling the water orb to double back. Otto slashes at it, cuts it in half, but that only serves to make it so two floating, writhing water masses descend on him, one surrounding his sword arm—and one surrounding his head.

He bucks, eyes peeling wide in instant horror within the unsteady ripples of the water orb, mouth moving in the soundless gaping of drowning. Bubbles of air break from his mouth, and the water turns his cry into a muted garble of noise.

"Stop!" I scream and lurch toward him, hands up, already calling wild magic—

Something yanks on my chest. I stumble, make it close enough to grab his arm.

Otto is drawing on my magic.

He collapses to his knees, gagging fruitlessly in the bubble of water, and when I claw at it, droplets come away only to suck right back in. I can feel all of his terror, and even more, I can feel the snap of his control break and the desperate, frenzied way he draws at my magic. I'm not sure he's doing it intentionally; this has plunged him into instinctual panic. My magic is the only thing keeping him alive, but he's draining me, and I'm frozen, letting him do it as he drowns in front of me—

Dieter steps up to us. His face is a snarl of hatred.

"I will kill him, Fritzichen. I will kill him, and you will watch. But he will drain you for me first."

No, no —

Tears sting my eyes, heat my cheeks, and I reach for more vines, plants, something to fight with; or the water, I could seize control of the water—

Dieter lifts the water stone, and Otto contorts his body and makes a garbled cry. The magic in me heaves out, and I don't even try to stop it—just let it keep him alive .

I'm running out of power. I'm running out, and Dieter has the stone, and what happens when I'm drained dry?

"Stop!" I shout at my brother. "Stop—just stop this !"

Dieter towers over me. Alois is unmoving behind me; wherever Cornelia fell, she is quiet. No one else in the Well even knows he's here, do they? How did he get in?

"No," he says. "I don't think I will. See, everything I want will be so much easier to get if I have your help, sister. And I have already tried asking nicely ."

Otto collapses to the floor, clawing helplessly at his open mouth, droplets of blood now sullying the water of the orb. His eyes roll back in his head, and I crawl toward him, but I'm fading, too, magic funneling out of me in a stream, both him pulling at it in fear and me giving it to him because I don't know what else to do.

Holda , I try, HOLDA —

"Oh no," says Dieter. Pain flares, and I rock to the side, his kick to my stomach knocking the breath from my lungs. "She can't hear you anymore, Fritzichen. Not with your magic so low. The only one who can hear you now is me ."

Otto is dying next to us. My magic strains to help him; he clumsily pulls at it.

Then it's gone.

The last dregs shudder and writhe as Otto clings to the tether, pulls for more, but I have none. None .

That emptiness expands, becomes a pit I fall into, panic and horror, no —

"Hm." Dieter nudges Otto with his boot. "I would rather kill him, you know. Meine Schwester, I'd rather he die now. But do you think our magic tether would survive that? You're bonded to him, I'm bonded to you, I'm bonded to him, around and around we go. He does make you stronger, I think, Fritzichen. As goddess touched as he is. You realize how weak that makes you? That you need him."

Dieter drops the water orb.

Otto falls limp. But he's alive. I know he's alive. He's unconscious only; Dieter doesn't want him dead yet; I need him alive—

There's a ringing noise, like a bell, like—a scream. I'm screaming, and when I try to scramble over to Otto, Dieter kneels in front of me, grabs a handful of my hair and wrenches my face to look up into his.

The pendant Cornelia gave me dangles from my neck; he yanks it off, tosses it away.

"It's time, meine Schwester," he croons. " Let me in ."

No, no, no, no, NO —

He frames my face with his hands.

I reach out, trying with whatever is left in me, Holda, Holda , help me—or vines, maybe, plants, nutmeg and nettle and mistletoe and something —

Something.

Something—

I brought him something.

Dieter smiles. It unfurls across his face, and I see Mama in that smile.

Her affinity was never in plants, but she taught me their uses all the same. Nutmeg and mistletoe and nettle and more. Nutmeg and mistletoe and nettle. Nutmeg and—

What do I need them for?

I've missed him. I miss her. I miss them both, but Dieter is here and right now, I can't remember why anything else ever mattered.

He holds out a hand to me, palm flat.

I point off into the council room. Toward a body that fell.

Dieter grins. He leaves me briefly to cross the room. There's shuffling, a thump, no words spoken or cry of alarm.

There's an emotion I should be feeling. The person he's searching—I know her. I know her. He's touching her, and I should feel something—

He comes back with another stone in his hand. The air stone, and his smile is the sun. It is a cataclysm of everything I've ever wanted, Mama and my brother, happy , and I feel myself smile too.

"Three stones and one spark," he recites, turning the spell into a song. "Water, air, earth. And fire in the heart."

Dieter pulls me to my feet. There are so many bodies on the floor around us.

But my brother is happy, so I am as well.

We walk out of the council room and stand shoulder to shoulder at the balcony railing, looking over the whole of the Well.

People go about their day. Witches living their sad little lives, unaware that Dieter stands in their presence.

They'll learn soon enough.

He slips the air stone into the satchel around his neck. It clunks against the water stone, and there is another I see tucked away with them now too: the earth stone. The one Rochus and Philomena guarded.

Again, an absence of emotion that I should feel. A reaction sparks. My breath quickens, or tries to, wings beating frantically only to—

I stop.

And watch my brother.

He pulls the water stone out and holds it to his lips, rolling it back and forth across his mouth, until he's swaying with the motion of it, like wind bending branches.

"It's time," he sings into the stone, and from far below, at the base of the trees, screams erupt.

I look over the balcony edge. The bloated streams that crisscross the Well begin to burble and roil, bubbles and foam rippling across the surfaces. People nearby, far, far below us, begin to exclaim and point, shouting concern—

It is too late.

The waterways explode in showers of glittering droplets as hexenj?gers surge up the banks, the water birthing them straight into the Well.

"I hid them in the water," Dieter tells me, eyes alight in mischief, still swaying, still rolling the stone across his lips. He used to look at me this way in Birresborn, when he'd been naughty, and I would giggle over his antics. "The Well's defenses couldn't stand in water. Not against this . Let's leave them to their business, Fritzichen." Dieter turns for the stairs.

Shouts and cries clog the air now, warriors diving into battle, hexenj?gers slaughtering them, swords and arrows and cries of pain.

I don't move.

Something, again, something, I should…I should do something… about this. Or back in the council room, there's someone I need—

" Fritzichen ," Dieter snaps.

He's angry.

I jump, shame coursing through me, and when my attention meets his where he stands a few steps down the landing, his smile doesn't reach his eyes.

His teeth show, and he tucks the water stone back into his pouch.

"We're going to be late," he says to me. "And we can't be late, can we?"

I shake my head. No, and he can't be upset, he can't be. I won't let him be.

He nods. Smiles. It hits his eyes now, and I relax.

"Good." He looks down at the battle on the forest floor. "Now go get little Liesel. You can bring her to me, can't you?"

I nod again.

His head bobs as he starts to hum. "Three stones and one spark," he sings. "Water, air, earth, and fire in the heart. Go get my fire, Fritzichen."

Yes. Liesel and Dieter and me. She'll come with me. She'll understand—we have to help him. We have to help him.

I have to help him.

I have to…

I have to.

I have—