teenagers – three good words

Describe something you learned in high school.

We had fantastic history teachers who taught pattern recognition and insisted on historical context.

They were big on Nothing is inevitable and Look at who’s telling the story.

One history teacher especially was all about Double-check your sources because liars be lying.

They took their time to show us how oftentimes the biggest lies are the ones that make people feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Basically, if something felt like the perfect explanation with zero nuance, then someone was selling a story for some kind of profit. They set up exercises so we could find the story, identify the profit, and figure out the nuance.

Rather than tell, they showed us the complexity of human experience. And, they made us think, even when we didn’t want to. They made us sit in our discomfort. And gave us room to argue our points, especially if we argued well. That didn’t mean they agreed. They expected us to take the heat if we were already trying to prove them wrong.

Were they perfect? No. They had their foibles. But they were genuine educators who were passionate about their subject and were given the space to actually teach it. Which is how we got a capital E Education, and yes, I am grateful.

Makes The Horrors pretty horrible, though, ngl…

#timelines

England, 1465

‘Run,’ she said. ‘Run, Lucrese, run!’ And Lucrese picked up her skirts and ran, ran into the dark that rose high into the night, the forest with its welcoming trees, ran and ran and ran, hearing the screams behind her, the shadows flickering high before her, the torches so ominous with their blue flames. The Royal Line had found them, the Auditors had come. Lucrese ran behind a wide tree trunk, stopped and turned around. Yes, they had come. Their blue torches flaming high, dragging Mother, Father, William, Thea, even young Merla, dragging them to the eastern wall. She could hear the clank of chains, she could see how the hooks were lowered. One Auditor, covered entirely in black, unrolled a scroll and was reading aloud, proclaiming the treason her family had been found guilty of, ‘fraternizing with the blood enemy’, ‘engaging with Enchanters’ and ‘soliciting Sangín’. But Lucrese knew this was all lies. All Father did was invite one of the Selda to speak of what potions were possible to heal the Curse. And the Sangín, they had lived peacefully side by side for generations. Even her great-grandmother knew of no strife between them. Yet the Auditors were here, dressed in that ominous lightswallowing black, reading out the crimes Father and Mother apparently committed. Lucrese knew she should run further into the forest, hide deeper, never be seen, but she could not leave. She had to see, to know, to understand just what was being done to her family even though she knew what would happen now, she knew, she knew, she could hear Mother’s cries and Father’s furious shouting, for he knew he had done no wrong, no wrong at all.

And so Lucrese stood and watched as her mother, her father, her brother and sisters were chained to the eastern wall of their homestead, how the first Auditor declared they were to be executed in the name of the Law for high treason against their blood and kin, for Lucrese knew the Royal Line saw itself as the Lords and Kings of all Nightwalkers. And so she stood and waited in horror, tears filling her eyes, for in greatest despair even a Nightwalker could cry. And she stood and waited and watched as the sun began to rise, the shadows falling, falling, burning so slowly, such agony, wisps of smoke rising from her parent’s heads, Mother cried, Father cursed and the children stared up in horror at the encroaching sun, screaming for their dear lives. Lucrese stood and watched and saw the Auditors take out long dark oblongs that they raised high – a tug, a blinding light, and sunlight flashed hotly off the mirrors. Lucrese ducked in time. Slowly she raised herself, careful to stay in the dark, the only place where she could see beyond the shadows into the light. And there, right there, lined up against the eastern wall of their homestead, were five heaps of ashes, smoking in the sun.

* * *

Cornwall, 2010

10 days to Winter Solstice
203^rd year

Finally, some time to write and think. It’s done now, the Whelp is in the cellars, watered and fed, thought Mr Gellers down the road’s starting to give me weird looks. We might have to change our supplier.

Anyway, now, finally, I can actually sit down and just – I wish I could shout and scream and box Gav’s ears for his unbelievable stupidity. I told him it was an idiotic thing to do, but oh no, Mr Gavin C. Destrian himself had to show them the Sangín are real. I keep on telling him: the Aveugle are silly people. They only believe what they can touch and feel, what their little eyes can see. And even then they’ll start arguing. But no, Gav had to show them. He apparently was sick and tired of this talk as if our world doesn’t exist. I told him to be patient. A hundred years ago, that Potter woman would have been put behind bars for sorcery. Not to mention what would have happened during The Dark. Small steps, I said, you need to give them time. They’ll get to it, surely. Maybe in three generations to come, but it’s not like we can’t wait. Two hundred three and everyone still thinks I’m a teen. Mum’s stopped arguing, they think we’re sisters, and as for Gav. Well, I told him. I told him, don’t do it. The Sangín around here are not safe, they like to terrify people, Aveugle especially. But oh no. And now we have an Aveugle in the house, and she’s genuinely Bitten.

She’s very shocked. Spent the first week crying – when she wasn’t trying to rip our throats out . That Containing Spell Gran found in Romania back in 17-whatever really works. Probably even a full grown Sangín couldn’t break it, not that I’d ever try it out, unless I absolutely had to. I do feel sorry for her though, young Mel. Annabelle Lowry, but everyone call’s her Mel. And she didn’t even want to go, Gavin coaxed her to – probably why he feels like a stinking heap of dragon dung right now. I told him. The Sangín here are Not. Safe. But oh no. He knew better. They had to know. And now young Mel’s in our cellar so that she won’t rip out our throats by the merest irritation.

I think that’s the hardest part, acquiring unbreakable self control in so short a time. Never getting provoked. Holding yourself together to the very end. Until even the very last chain burst and suddenly you have a full grown werewolf on your hands. I told him. I really told him. Gav’s an Apprentice, he could never have kept the Containing Spell up so long. I told him. Even Mum told him, and Mum usually lets him get away with everything. Mum’s been awfully quiet actually. She hardly speaks to him, she just brews the potion and cuts the meat so that the poor thing won’t choke. She says nothing. A lot of nothing. A whole bookshelf and library full of nothing. I think it’s driving Gav mad. If Mum’d at least shout and scream, even curse him, I think he’d be relieved, but Mum doesn’t say anything.

It’s very hard for her though, young Mel. I can only imagine how it’s like, understanding that from now on, she’s one of the Sangín. It’s why I’ve been so busy. Mum’s been making me write letters to the Elders, and when I’m not writing, I’m making introductions all round. I’ve been up and down the Five Clans just to make sure nobody starts a war over this. Mum insisted I take Gav with me, I didn’t think it was wise, you never know how Nightwalkers might react to this, but they’ve been very civil, considering. Granted, Gav doesn’t say a word. He just stands there and lets them shout at him. At least they understand it’s done now, and the Elders are going to contact the Aveugle. Young Mel’s parents have already contacted their police. Gav and all his Aveugle friends lied very well, saying Mel got lost while they ran to the jeep. They’ve sent search parties into the woods, naturally they found nothing, Mum already went back and cleaned up the blood, you can’t have the parents terrified. Sensitive as Mel is now, she’ll feel her family’s fear and she’s already nervous enough. Nerves of steel is what a Sangín needs, at least that’s what Arrag says. He still comes to see me, brings me the paste once a week. The scars will remain, but they’ve healed. At least my clothes cover the most of it, though I can’t do low necklines any more. A pity, but I guess that is a small price for being alive at all.

7 Days to Winter Solstice
203^rd year

Gran’s in France again, someone’s broken into another vault. Tynne Edvan came to ask her to join the Déblay. Why do they always do this? How can anyone be so insane? The Royal Line has died out, they cannot be resurrected, and thank all the Stars, Gods and Spirits for that. Who would want them back? They’d never tolerate the Balance and then it would be like the Old Days and Arrag could never come and give me the paste. Tuilen and Janic would not be allowed to live together, in fact, they’d probably execute Tuilen for blood treason. Not to mention everyone else. Lucius. Meredith. Gwendolynn. Cedric and the John brothers. Leonid and Katelyn. They’d basically have to go into hiding. A Sangín and an Enchanter, united? The Royals would burn their house down with all of them inside by the mere mention. Every Sangín would get the silver cup, every Nightwalker in the Five Clans would be sunlit, and we Enchanters would be on the run again, forever escaping the Auditors who saw nothing in us than slaves. I don’t know why anyone would want the Royal Line back, no one would ever be able to live in peace again. Who are these madmen?

Anyway, young Mel is doing a little better now. Arrag already came to call, he was with Braig this time so we could not talk. Mum did the formalities, and she went down with Braig to see young Mel. It was awkward, standing in the parlour alone with Arrag. It’s been twenty years now. He still will not look me in the eye. If I touch him, he flinches. He barely accepted the drink I offered. I don’t know how many times I’ve told him that I know he was provoked. I know it. Everyone knows it. And back then I would have said the vows but he would not. He does not trust himself anymore. Even if I knew to brew the potion, maybe one night he might forget to drink it, and then what? Until that night he was convinced it would work, but after… may the Gods curse me, but if ever I see Alda and Ivan again, I will load my soulmaker with all the silver bullets I can get and send them back to the dark pits they belong to. Arrag was the best of them all and they just – broke him. Just like that. The Royal Line would have been so proud of them.

Anyway. Mum said Braig was satisfied. He will send Leonid to come after Winter Solstice to help. The Lupena have already been contacted, they will take Mel into the Fold once she is used to the bloodlust and knows how to control it. None of us want another Gerem – Gods, what a disaster. Ten Aveugle dead, and the 11^th so mauled they had to be merciful and let him pass as well. At least the Elders could convince the Aveugle officials that he was killed in self defence. The first time in decades that all Sangín-Clans joined together and went on a Hunt. They must have known the fault was entirely theirs. To let a Bitten Aveugle join the Fold without any safety valves… madness.

It’ll be another full moon tomorrow by the way, Gav’s already nervous. Last time young Mel mauled two cats and a dog. Had to bury them quick and explain the neighbours there’s been a very careless car-driver about. Gav is not happy. He said, ‘She was the nice one.’ Well, all I can say is that we Enchanters can’t have enough nice Sangín around.