Emille

Chapter 10

Peter missed the gloom of winter. Spring was too bright, summer too hot. But winter? Winter was perfect. It evoked a sweet melancholy specific to barren branches and fallen leaves. Perfect for brooding. Which was what Peter did best.

"Good evening, P."

Peter glanced up at his constant source of annoyance: Natalia. She was bending in an uncoordinated mock bow, eyebrows waggling. He sighed, and beckoned for her to sit next to him on the bench.

"Could you tell your rat to move?" Natalia said, frowning in annoyance at the black cat currently sitting regally next to Peter. Victor looked up at her with disdain, sniffing in annoyance at the disrespect. He stretched languidly, maintaining eye contact with Natalia the entire time. Peter rolled his eyes. These two would never simply get along.

The insipid girl should learn some manners. The thought floated up to Peter, the voice deep and grave. This was how Victor chose to communicate: mind to mind. Peter stifled a sigh, and addressed his partner out loud. He, after all, didn't possess Victor's communication skills.

"Would you mind making room for Natalia?"

Natalia grunted in outrage. She scooped up Victor, plopping him on the grass.

Unhand me! This won't be forgotten, girl.

Peter decided not to comment on their squabble. It was better to not get involved.

"This had better be good," Natalia said, sitting next to Victor and folding in her knees. "My date was going very well." She sent a devious wink Peter's way, which he pointedly ignored.

"Victor had a very important update on the newest practitioners."

Natalia's full attention was on him now. She popped her chin on her knee and stared at him intently through dark eyes. Peter could appreciate this about Natalia: despite all of her sarcasm and flirtations, she understood the gravity of their secrets.

"He saw them in the clearing, performing one of The Willow's rituals. Isabella seems to possess the same abilities as The Willow."

Natalia's eyes widened in alarm. "What about Emille?"

Peter glanced at Victor, who was standing at his feet attentively.

She does not possess the powers of The Willow. She is like you.

"She's just a practitioner," Peter translated.

"Which is nothing to cough at," Natalia said, miffed at Peter's dismissal of their roles. Peter lamented his choice of words. He'd been chosen and had failed before the journal had moved on to Natalia. He'd had more time to stew over his failings. She still held out hope that the apprentices would become important, that she and Peter were important.

She has communed with the journal.

Peter nodded. It was only a matter of time before the wretched thing began spouting prophecies at Emille. He remembered the utter shock, the fright that accompanied the whispers of the journal. He didn't miss it. At least, that's what he would say if Natalia ever asked.

"The journal's been speaking with Emille," he said. Natalia smiled knowingly.

"Poor girl. That stupid journal is so melodramatic." She spoke the words fondly. "So what's our move?"

Peter considered her question. He'd found Natalia at a much later stage of the practitioner's mission, and they'd failed spectacularly. Perhaps earlier intervention was the key.

"I think it's time to introduce ourselves."

Natalia grinned wickedly. "I would love to meet Isa."