Wild Magic

by Madeline Freeman

  He covers his face with his hands for a beat before seeking my eyes. “You were right. I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you before.”

  Panic flares. “About what? The circle? Fox, did they hurt Felix?”

  His mouth twitches at the sound of Felix’s name. “No. It’s not about last night. I was telling the truth—none of us are behind the fire at his house. It’s about everything—since the night we anchored to the crystal. You were right—the whole time. I just couldn’t see it. I don’t think I wanted to.” He takes in a breath. “I want to apologize.”

  My skin prickles. “For what?”

  The corners of his mouth quirk up. “Too many things. But specifically what happened the other day with Zane. He was hurting you and… I didn’t do anything to help.” He squeezes his eyes closed, the pang of guilt that courses through him spreading to me.

  I force his emotions out. I don’t want to feel what he’s feeling. I don’t want to feel sorry for him. I square my shoulders. “We handled it. I’m fine.”

  He squeezes closed his eyes. “I wanted to help you, and I need you to understand why I didn’t. It’s not because I thought Zane was right for what he was doing. I punched him in the face after school.” He smiles grimly at this. “I just couldn’t do anything to stop him. I don’t have the power to—not on my own.”

  My ears perk up. “On your own?”

  He nods. “Since we broke—” He presses his lips together in a tight line. “Since we fought—after it sank in what I said, what I did—I haven’t used the crystal to do magic. Unless it’s a spell I can do with my own abilities, I don’t do it. And it’s crazy—it’s like my head is clearer, somehow. And now when I’m listening to the circle talk, I hear what I must’ve sounded like to you that day. When I punched Zane, you know what he did? He laughed. He couldn’t understand why I was getting so worked up over you—how you weren’t even a real witch and so you weren’t worth my time.”

  Heat prickles my skin. I’m not sure how to respond to this. Is this how the whole circle is thinking? If so, maybe it’s not such a stretch to imagine them stepping up their violence—even on people from founding families.

  Fox reaches across the void separating us and takes up my hands. “I can’t tell you how much I regret how I acted the day we fought. I’ve replayed it a million times in my head, and I can’t even remember why I got so mad or why I said the things I did. All I can think is you were right and there’s something wrong with the crystal. And I can’t help that I’m anchored to it now, but I’m not using it—and it’s not using me.” He presses his lips together, squeezing my fingers. “Now, I understand if you don’t want to give me a second chance. I understand if you’ve moved on. I’ve seen you with Felix—”

  I sigh, cutting him off. “He’s my friend, Fox. I’m not… We’re not together.”

  The tension in his shoulders fades, relief spreading across his face. He scoots forward on his chair, closing the gap between us. Our knees are nearly touching. “Thank god,” he breathes. He brings my hand to his mouth, brushing his lips against my knuckles. “Are we okay?”

  He’s not asking if I’m mad at him, if we can still be friends. I don’t have to be psychic to know that. His question is deeper; he wants to know if we can go back to before—before he said those hateful things, before the crystal clouded his mind. Although he choked over the words earlier, it doesn’t make our current status any less real: We’re broken up. Two separate entities. No longer Kristyl-and-Fox, the unit we’ve been for years.

  It’s what I’ve wanted since I found myself in this reality—not to be tethered to Fox, to end things without hurting him. He says he’ll understand if I’ve moved on, and I know he’ll honor my decision if it’s the path I choose.

  I’ve given up the fantasy of being with Owen again. There’s too much history—bad history—between us to think we can ever move past it completely. There was a moment, the day Millie died, when we were on the front porch that I thought there was a possibility, but Owen pulled back. Maybe we can be friends, but we’ll never be more than that. But it’s not a fear of being alone that concerns me: It’s the fear of missing out on what I could have with Fox. Despite my best efforts, I can’t pretend I don’t have feelings for him. At first, I didn’t understand why alternate-me would be with him, but I see it now. Fox is sweet, considerate, and supportive—and he wears his feelings for me on his sleeve. He loves me. The thought sends a pang through my core, but it’s obviously the truth. He loves me enough to trust me, to give up addictive, powerful magic—enough to risk being shunned by his core group of friends for standing with me.

  It would be easier to make a clean break—then I wouldn’t have to pretend like I remember a relationship I’ve only recently been inserted into. But I’m increasingly realizing that easier doesn’t translate to better.

  Are we okay? A simple question without any simple answers.

  I tug my hand from his lips, brushing my fingertips over his jaw line. “I don’t know.”

  Fox’s face falls. It clearly isn’t the answer he was hoping for. I reach forward and slide my fingers through the hair above his ear. “I’m sorry, Fox. It’s just—”

  He shakes his head. “You don’t have to explain. I hurt you. I get that. And I’m still connected with the crystal, so it’s not like I can guarantee it won’t happen again. I’ll just have to prove it, again and again, every day until you believe it.”

  My heart lurches. Part of me is still mad about the hurtful things he said the day of the fight, still upset that he didn’t do more to stop Zane from hurting me and my friends, but a larger part is just sad that things have to be so complicated. But he’s right: So long as he’s anchored to the crystal, I can’t trust that it won’t cloud his thoughts and emotions.

  Fox stands, heading for the stairs. I follow, reaching him just before he starts down. I tug on his arm and he spins to face me. He waits for me to say something, but no words come. There’s nothing I can say right now to lessen his disappointment. I can’t tell him what he wants to hear. But I don’t want him to leave without knowing that this isn’t an easy decision for me. I wish he were psychic so I could share my swirling emotions with him, but that would make things too easy. On impulse, I push up on my tiptoes and press a quick kiss on his lips. When I sink back to my heels, his gray eyes cloud, but he isn’t angry.

  “Walk me out?”

  I nod and Fox takes my hand. I hesitate as we start down the stairs, but he didn’t misinterpret my kiss. His relief laps over me gently: He’s glad I haven’t written him off entirely, grateful for an opportunity to prove himself to me.

  We pause at the front door. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  I pull a face. “Still suspended.”

  He presses his lips into a tight line. “It’s such bullshit. Zane’s the one—”

  “I know.” I squeeze his fingers and release his hand. “I’ll see you Friday.”

  He nods, leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on my cheek.

  “Bye, Fox,” Mom calls when he opens the door. He gives a sheepish smile, waving, before ducking out into the night. Mom waits until the door closes before clearing her throat. “So, back with Fox, huh?”

  Heat rises in my cheeks. It’s not a ridiculous conclusion. “No. It’s… complicated.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Well, then. Let’s expand the no-boyfriends-in-the-bedroom rule to a no-boyfriends-or-complicated-boy-relationships-in-the-bedroom rule, okay?” She winks before heading back into the living room.

  I go back upstairs and grab the picture of Fox and me from the zoo off my dresser before lying on my bed. I trace our faces with my fingertip, trying to convince myself I made the right decision.

  I must drift off, because when pounding assails my ears, I jolt, feeling groggy. I can’t quite pry my eyes open. Where’s the noise coming from? It sounds nearby, and it’s growing nearer. Something like wood and anger. It’s familiar, but I can’t place it.

  My body
jostles and hands clamp down around my shoulders. My eyelids flutter open as fingernails dig into my flesh and shake me. “What did you do?”

  I blink against the harsh artificial light from the overhead fixture. It’s still night. It takes several moments before I focus on the face before me: Crystal Jamison’s eyes are red-rimmed, her cheeks blotchy, her hair wild. I grab her wrists, trying to pry her off me. “What’s going on?”

  “Don’t pretend like you don’t know!” She releases me, shoving me back toward my pillow. She stands and begins pacing beside my bed, pointing an accusing finger. “She’s dead, and you’re behind it—I know you are!”

  I sit up straight, all traces of grogginess gone. “Dead? Who’s dead? What are you talking—”

  “Don’t pretend like you don’t know!” Crystal screams, rounding on me, eyes wild. “This is revenge—revenge for something I didn’t even do!”

  My mom’s head appears in the stairwell. “Hon, is everything okay?”

  Crystal’s entire body tenses, her face going red. Despite this, I nod. “It’s fine, Mom. I’ve got this. You can go back downstairs.”

  Mom’s lips press together in a tight line, but after a beat she nods, descending.

  I stand, crossing to Crystal. “Now, you wanna calm down and tell me what you’re talking about before my mom calls the cops or something?”

  She snorts. “Your mom. She’s not even supposed to be here! Your mom is supposed to be dead!”

  My chest constricts, pressing the air out. “You think I don’t know that?”

  Crystal’s gaze wavers for an instant before burning into mine once more. “There was a fire, earlier tonight. Uncle David came home and there were fire trucks and ambulances outside the house. He said they told him the fire just wouldn’t go out—no matter what they did…”

  My stomach twists. “Oh, god…”

  “Aunt Crystal—she’s… she’s…” Crystal sniffs, knees buckling. I wrap my arms around her and ease her down so she’s sitting on my bed. “It’s not supposed to be like this. I had her back and she was supposed to help me and teach me. But now she’s gone.” Two fat tears slide down her cheeks.

  A pang courses through me. “I get it. I do. When we got back and my mom was alive, it was like a gift. It is a gift. And your time with your aunt was a gift.” I rub her back, trying to comfort her. “You were able to meet her—to get to know her. I mean, that’s something, right? You were never supposed to know her.”

  “Yes, I was,” she snaps. “I made sure of it! She’s supposed to be here now. Why do you get your mom when you didn’t even want her back? You didn’t do anything to get her back. But I wanted my aunt, I saw a way, and I took it. But it’s you who has everything she wants—of course it is—”

  I stare at her, processing her words. She can’t mean what I think she does, can she? I shake my head, standing. “Crystal, you can’t mean—”

  “I saved her! I pulled her out of the fire and I saved her. And for what? Now she’s gone!”

  “You changed things? Crystal—you changed things? I thought you said it was just because we took the crystal. You never said your aunt was alive because you pulled her out of the house!”

  “Why are you so upset?” she asks, standing. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you? Your whole perfect family back together. Your mom’s still alive, you’re living here with Jodi. You have your new friends worshiping at your altar. So what, you aren’t with Owen? Don’t think I don’t know Fox is still in love with you. I gave you this life—don’t you forget it. Your mom’s the one who deserved to die, not my aunt!”

  I shake my head. “What have you done? We’re not supposed to mess with time. We went back for the crystal, that’s it. You weren’t supposed to—”

  “But I did! I saw a chance to save my aunt and I took it. Are you telling me that if you had the same opportunity, you wouldn’t have done it? If we’d gone back to the day your mom died, you wouldn’t have found a way to keep it from happening?”

  I don’t know how to respond. Would I have had the willpower to allow things to take their original course if I had the power to stop it? Part of me wants to say yes, I would have been strong enough not to interfere with the way things were supposed to happen. Then again, if that were entirely true, I wouldn’t have agreed to go back in time in the first place, to acquire a crystal that was supposed to burn up in a fire in order to save Jodi’s life.

  “We can’t change anything now,” I say quietly. “What’s done is done.”

  Crystal shakes her head. “No. I can fix it—I know I can.”

  I grab her shoulders and force her to look at me. “Some things can’t be fixed. And even if they can, they shouldn’t.” Her eyes dart downward and I position myself so I’m in her line of sight. “Do you understand me?”

  She takes in a shaky breath, nodding almost imperceptibly.

  “Good. Because there’s a bigger problem we’re facing. Dana’s dad, Millie, Felix, your aunt—do you realize what they all have in common?”

  She blinks, her expression blank.

  “They’re all descended from founding families. It can’t be a coincidence—all these things happening so close together. And if I’m right, it means neither one of us is safe. We need to find out who’s doing this.”

  She snorts. “Yesterday you were convinced the circle tried to kill Felix.”

  “And I’m willing to admit I was wrong. I think all these attacks are connected, and there’s no way you or Lexie would hurt your aunt.” I take in a breath. “Is there some kind of spell you can do to figure out if there’s anyone in town practicing magic?”

  She squints. “Not sure. Maybe.”

  “Will you look into it?”

  After a beat, she nods.

  I perch on the bed beside her. “We’re on the same side now. We have to figure out who’s doing this and stop them.” Crystal’s lower lip trembles and I slide my arm around her shoulders. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I should… I should get home. My mom…” She squeezes her eyes closed.

  “I understand. Look—call if you need anything. I know that we’re not exactly… But I know what you’re going through. So, if you need me, I’m here.”

  Crystal nods once before standing and heading for the stairs. She doesn’t look back.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Despite the fact I thought Crystal and I were on the same page about things when she left my house Wednesday night, she ignores me completely when I return to school on Friday. Surprisingly, I’m fine with this. Although I know in my head the best way to find whoever’s behind the attacks is to work with the circle, my heart can’t help feeling betrayed by her lie. All this time, I’ve been operating under the assumption that the change in our reality couldn’t have been helped, it was simply the price to pay in order to bring the crystal back, to save Jodi’s life. But things are different now that I know Crystal actively influenced the change. She pretended to be surprised when she told me her aunt was alive, but she wasn’t. She knew Crystal Taylor didn’t die in that fire and she lied to me. She might still be mad at me for something I had no hand in, but I’m equally as mad at her for something she did have a hand in.

  Or at least, sometimes I am. But, as indignant and holier-than-thou I feel about her disregarding our promise not to affect anything while in the past, I can’t pretend I haven’t benefited from her choice. For some reason, the act of saving her aunt from that fire rippled out and saved my mother. And, if I’m being entirely honest, it saved me, too. In my reality, I spent four years in a hell of my own making, my abilities causing problems and making the people in my life avoid me—or worse, torment me. But alternate-me never went through that. Instead, having spent the last four years here in Clearwater, she was accepted and popular. I was accepted and popular. So, as mad as I’d like to be, I’m conflicted.

  Also avoiding me at school is Owen. I’d write it off as being due to Fox hanging a
round, but he’s late to school Friday, arriving about ten minutes into our shared second period class. I smile and wave as he moves up the aisle to his seat, but he averts his eyes immediately. I try not to be too disappointed, even though I was really hoping the two of us could be friends.

  Crystal Taylor’s funeral is Saturday. As I expected, the parking lot is nearly packed when we arrive. Most of the community seems to have turned up for the funeral. Mom and Jodi gravitate toward Shelly Tanner and Lexie’s mom as soon as we walk in the building. I see Lexie almost immediately and my breath catches: She’s wearing the exact outfit she wore to our principal’s funeral in my other reality—a simple black dress with a chunky turquoise necklace. I almost go to her to hug her and offer words of comfort, but I stop short. She’s not the same Lexie here. She dabs her eyes with a tissue and Bridget rests a hand on her shoulder. Crystal Jamison is nearby, standing between Griffin and Fox. Her eyes narrow when they land on me and I press my lips together, unsure how to read her.

  Fingers graze my elbow and I jump, clutching my chest. I turn and Seth offers an apologetic smile.

  “I said your name a couple times,” he says quietly, nodding down the hall toward a less populated area.

  “Sorry,” I murmur, following. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

  He shrugs. “I met with your principal a few times—discussing volunteering at the school. She was kind to me, and I wanted to show my respect.”

  We stop beside a half-empty coat rack toward the far end of the hall. “Have you found something?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing concrete.”

  “Do you have a lead, at least?”

  Seth shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Maybe. But I need to get a better sense of exactly what kind of energy is in the stone.”

  I nod. “No problem. If you want, I could probably get Fox to come over and—”

  “Actually, I was hoping to talk with Crystal. From what you’ve told me, she seems to be the most emotionally connected to it, and I believe that will help.”