She knew, but she wanted to see. Magic was taking that away from her, the sight of all she loved.
“I’m sorry,” Harvey told her, very quietly.
“It’s not your fault.”
It was the witches’ fault, but Roz didn’t say that. Instead she ate her éclair, the smooth cream and rich chocolate slightly bitter in her mouth. Maybe the éclair was going off. The blond who ran the shop, Mrs. Ferch-Geg, made so many that the glass cabinets were crowded with pastries. She must have dozens left over and spoiling by evening.
She told Harvey about the book she was reading. He always asked.
“Not everybody knows this, but the same guy wrote Rosemary’s Baby and The Stepford Wives.”
Harvey sounded like he was frowning—not in a bad way, but in concentration. “That would be the book about having Satan’s baby and the book about robots, right?”
“Technically, yes,” said Roz. “But actually, both those books are about the patriarchy!”
“Is that right? I don’t know how having Satan’s baby is about the patriarchy.”
“I’ll prove it to you.”
“I believe you already, Roz,” said Harvey. “But tell me. I’ll try to follow.”
Roz was silent, overcome with a rush of affection. Then she felt like a traitor and said: “Sabrina!”
Harvey started. “Where?”
“Oh, no,” said Roz. “She’s not here. I think she’s at her, uh, other school. Which must be a weird place, right?”
“I bet it is a weird place,” mused Harvey. “Full of weirdos.”
Roz laughed nervously. “I met up with Sabrina yesterday. I almost got into an accident, but she saved me. With magic.”
She used the words as a shield. Sabrina might be a witch, and witches might’ve hurt Roz, but Sabrina wouldn’t hurt Roz. Sabrina was Roz’s best friend, and that meant her boyfriend—even her ex—was off-limits.
“Is she all right?” Harvey demanded. “Are you all right?”
He sounded terrified. She hated that she’d scared him, and hated magic for scaring him first.
Roz tried to be soothing. “Everybody’s fine. The biggest casualty was a bunch of broken glass. So, seven years of bad luck for us, I guess. Like we’d notice in this town.” She chewed her lip. “How are you feeling … about Sabrina?”
Harvey answered, low as if the words made his throat ache: “Pretty miserable.”
He must have seen her expression change, because he leaned forward and touched her wrist.
“Hey, Roz. It’s okay. We can’t all be as accomplished at romance as you.”
“Me?” Roz laughed. “How do you mean?”
“Yeah, you,” said Harvey, teasing. “Whenever you go off to summer camp—nerd camp or Christian camp—you always get a boyfriend. Then he writes sad postcards to you after you come back. You’re a total heartbreaker, Roz.”
“Not really,” mumbled Roz.
She’d had a few boyfriends, at a few camps. She’d slept with someone for the first time last summer, and her dad would die if he knew. But as soon as she came home, she lost interest in dating.
She didn’t want to date any boy in Greendale until she found a boy in Greendale she liked better than Harvey. And she never had.
She didn’t think about it in terms of liking Harvey that way. She didn’t let herself. He was the property of her best friend, and even if nice and good were unspecific words, Roz always tried to be a nice girl and a good friend.
They’d grown up together, the four of them, friends even when the thought of girls being with boys, or boys being with girls, was gross. Then one day, Catie Murphy asked their group who had a crush on who. Roz glanced shyly over at Harvey and found him already looking at Sabrina.
He was always looking at Sabrina. That never changed. Roz wouldn’t even want it to. That was part of why Harvey was such a great guy, his wholehearted and unwavering devotion.
But now Harvey and Sabrina were broken up, and though Harvey was clearly heartbroken about it, Roz couldn’t help having new intrusive thoughts. Like: Hey, Sabrina. What do you say, bestie, if I tell you not to worry that a magic curse is turning me blind? I promise I won’t hate magic. In exchange, can I have your man?
“Harvey,” Roz said suddenly. “I’m sorry for bringing up Sabrina. I shouldn’t have.”
“I’m sorry you were in an accident,” said Harvey. “I’m glad she was there, and you’re okay. I only want you and Sabrina and Susie to be safe.”
Roz’s grandma had died on the night the ghosts descended on their town. She’d told Harvey he didn’t have to come to the funeral, not so soon after Tommy. But of course Harvey came, wearing the same suit he’d buried his brother in twice, and stood loyally by her side. Susie and Sabrina and Harvey took turns holding Roz’s hand.
Roz cried over her grandma until her eyes ached, but it wasn’t the same as losing someone young, losing your brother.
She opened her mouth to reassure him, when Harvey said: “I know why you brought up Sabrina. It’s because this feels wrong, right? Being here with me.”
Roz’s teaspoon fell out of her nerveless fingers. She didn’t see where it went, and she didn’t care.
Harvey retrieved her spoon. Her dimmed vision caught the glint of silver as he laid it carefully by her saucer. Then he reached for her.
She thought of another specific way to describe him: gentleman. Harvey was one, in the best sense of the word. She’d never seen him even touch someone roughly. Her grandma said once that it was dangerous, in this cruel world, to be gentle.
He touched her gently now, his fingers curling around her hand.
“You’re all stiff. You’ve barely looked at me this whole time. I can tell what’s going on. It’s too awkward, now that Sabrina and I have split. One person usually gets the friends in the breakup, right? You’re Sabrina’s best friend, and—you guys feel like you can’t be friends with both of us.”
“No, Harvey!” Roz exclaimed. “That’s not it.”
“Then what is it, Roz?” Harvey asked. “Don’t say it’s nothing. I know you better than that.”
She wished she could reach out and trace the lines of his face where they blurred in her vision, so she knew he looked exactly the way she remembered. She told herself the sudden intensity of this crush was because she was scared of magic, of the curse stealing her vision. It wasn’t a real crush. She was clinging to someone she knew was safe.
She said nothing.
Harvey’s voice stayed quiet and tender. “That’s what I thought. I—I get it. I won’t bother you anymore. And I don’t blame you. Take care of yourself, Roz. Please.”
Harvey stood, leaned down, and gently kissed her cheek. Roz was struck mute.
By the time she could speak he’d left the tea shop, the little bell jangling softly in his wake. She couldn’t see much, but she saw him brace his shoulders against the cold.
Roz got up, but it was socially irresponsible to leave without paying. She ran over to Mrs. Ferch-Geg and tried to shove money at her, but the woman wouldn’t take it.
“Your boyfriend paid while you were in the bathroom,” she said cheerfully. “Isn’t he a sweetie!”
“He’s not her boyfriend,” said a sneering voice. “Doesn’t he go with that Spellman girl?”
Roz turned to see who’d spoken, but her eyes betrayed her, as they did so often these days. She saw only the shadow of Mrs. Ferch-Geg’s piled-up hair, turned long and almost sinister as it stretched across the teacups and pastries.
There was dark muttering all around Roz. She stumbled out of the tea shop, into the cold clear air, but she could still hear the last murmur ringing in her ears.
Someone said: “I heard a whisper the Spellmans are witches.”
Harvey hadn’t driven the truck much since the day the mine caved in. Tommy had saved to buy the red pickup when he was in high school. Harvey’d thought getting rides from his older brother was the coolest thing ever, back then. Tommy had taught Harv
ey to drive in this truck, playing country music loud and laughing at him from the passenger seat. On the night after the mine shaft collapsed, Sabrina had slept next to Harvey in the bed of the truck, cuddled up with him under his jacket.
He didn’t know why Sabrina hadn’t understood that was what he needed. Not necromancy, not magic that was supposed to make everything better but instead made it worse. Only for her to stay with him, so they could hold on to each other.
He’d been looking forward to seeing Roz. Susie wasn’t answering his texts or calls, and he missed them both. Roz was so warm and sure of herself, she usually made him feel better about everything, but not today.
Roz always threw a big party on New Year’s Eve. All the church kids would come. Last year Harvey had kissed Sabrina on the stroke of midnight in the light of fireworks over the mountains. Then he and Susie high-fived.
He’d gone over to Susie’s house yesterday with snacks, but her dad said she wasn’t seeing anybody. Harvey guessed he wasn’t invited to the New Year’s party this year.
Roz and Sabrina were best friends. Of course Roz would take Sabrina’s side. Harvey had to stop being such a wimp. He drove home. If he played country music loud and didn’t glance over at the passenger seat, it was almost like Tommy was there.
He was singing quietly along to lyrics describing someone as “small-town kind of pretty” when a tire blew out and he almost went off the road. Only wrenching the wheel around desperately saved the truck from plowing right into a tree.
Harvey wasn’t far from home and didn’t want to block the narrow, icy road, so he decided to drive on carefully and patch up the tire in the garage. Dad always told Harvey and Tommy they should repair a blown-out tire rather than waste his money on a new one. He was still shaken as he drove the rest of the way home and parked. So he was incredibly startled by the loud rap on the roof of his truck.
“She’s cheer captain, and I’m … constantly harassed by minions of Satan,” Harvey finished, under his breath.
He hastily switched off the country music as Nick Scratch’s jackass face appeared at his side window.
“This is how you get around?” Nick asked. “How odd. It looks lopsided.”
“Yeah, a tire blew out,” said Harvey. “The tires are new too. Bad luck on winter roads, I guess.”
Nick seemed uncomprehending. “I mostly fly.”
Harvey blinked. “You have—a private jet?”
“No,” said Nick, clearly entertained by the notion.
Harvey recalled: witches. “Oh, right.”
“Wicked practitioner of the dark arts, remember?”
Harvey climbed out of the pickup, stuffing his keys into his down jacket. The snow crunched under his boots. Fresh snow had fallen in the night, so when the darkness ebbed away, it left the whole world white. Nick was dressed inappropriately for winter, holding a bundle that looked like sticks wrapped up in a rag. It was probably intended for a scary spell, and he was a jerk who seemed constantly amused at Harvey’s expense. He was also the only person in the world seeking Harvey’s company.
Harvey smiled at him. “I do. Hey, Nick.”
Nick appeared vaguely surprised, but after a moment he smiled back.
“Hi, mortal.”
“What’s up? Do you—want to hang out?” Harvey asked. “And what have you got there?”
“It’s a baby,” Nick answered, and shoved the baby unceremoniously into Harvey’s arms. “Hold, please.”
It really was a baby. Harvey stared in terror at the little scrunched-up face. The baby blinked open round dark eyes and gazed up at Harvey. The baby looked as stunned as Harvey felt.
“Oh, Nick,” said Harvey tragically. “Oh, no.”
He blamed himself for being even a tiny bit pleased to see Nick. No, he didn’t. He blamed Nick for everything.
“I can’t hang out right now,” said Nick. “I think Sabrina’s in trouble with a bad-luck spirit, and I should help her, so will you watch this baby for us?”
A chill went through Harvey that had nothing to do with the winds of winter. “Why do you think Sabrina’s in trouble?”
“Little signs,” said Nick. “Subtle hints. A wall fell on her.”
“A wall fell on her!” Harvey shouted.
“At the Academy,” elaborated Nick, as if Harvey was concerned about the specific wall location.
“Is she all right?”
“Of course. I made sure to shield her.”
“From the wall?” said Harvey, appalled. “Are you all right?”
There was another moment where Nick appeared oddly taken aback, and then he smirked. “Witches aren’t fragile like mortals, Harry.”
Harvey didn’t know why he’d bothered to ask. He sighed and gave the baby a look to indicate “Can you believe this guy?” The baby seemed dubious about Nick as well.
“What’s going on with Sabrina?”
“I’ll find out,” said Nick.
“Do walls fall on people a lot at Invisible Academy?”
“The Academy of Unseen Arts,” Nick corrected.
“All I know is, it’s not Boundaries Academy,” said Harvey. “Because nobody ever taught you any! I have an important question, and it is—”
“Harvey Kinkle, is that a baby?”
Their neighbor Mrs. Link often cut through their property, her bright red rubber boots moving in a blur across the mud as she went on her merry way elsewhere. Now she’d stopped dead, arrested by the sight before her.
“Oh God,” Harvey whispered.
“Don’t say that in front of the baby,” Nick hissed.
“Shut up,” said Harvey. “I hate you. Uh, hi, Miz Link? Hi.”
Mrs. Link clearly had no time for mundane greetings. “Whose is that baby?” Her red kerchief went askew on her white hair as she darted a look at Nick. “Young man, is this your baby?”
“Yeah, Nick, is this your baby?” Harvey demanded.
Nick shook his head with what seemed to be unfeigned dismay. Harvey was relieved they weren’t coping with a teen dad situation.
“No. No, no, no. It’s not my baby,” said Nick. “It’s Father Blackwood’s baby.”
Strangely, that appeared to be the exact right thing to say. Mrs. Link relaxed considerably.
“Oh, your minister’s baby? Where’s his mama?”
“She’s dead,” said Nick.
“And there’s a community effort to care for the poor orphaned child,” cooed Mrs. Link. “I understand everything now. I haven’t heard of the church before. It must be small. Are you very involved?”
“Well,” said Nick, “I’m a choirboy.”
Mrs. Link pressed a hand against her breast. “Lovely. Harvey, introduce me to your sweet friend.”
Harvey swallowed his outrage at this turn of events.
“This is Nick.”
“Evangeline Link,” said Mrs. Link. “Delighted.”
She extended her hand. Nick kissed it. Mrs. Link giggled. Harvey thought he understood how the olden-day witch-hunters must have felt.
“Well, I have to get going,” Nick announced.
“You can’t go! I don’t know what to do with a baby!”
“Well, heavens, Harvey,” said Mrs. Link, and Harvey watched Nick control a flinch. “You only have to ask me for advice. I did raise seven.”
“A wise woman, I perceive,” said Nick, and winked at Mrs. Link.
She hit Nick on the arm. “Oh, you! Get along, you two.”
Nick walked backward, giving Mrs. Link a wave. Harvey interrupted their horrifying lovefest by darting in between them and grasping Nick’s sleeve. The baby, jolted by the sudden movement, began to scream.
Nick regarded the baby with distaste. “He does that all the time. Best of luck, mortal!”
Harvey whispered, though considering the volume of the baby’s screeching, he would’ve had to shout for Mrs. Link to hear them. “They say witches are evil and it’s true. You cannot be doing this to me. I don’t even know the baby’s name!�
��
Nick whispered back: “His name’s Judas.”
This information was too much.
Harvey closed his eyes. “Oh Jesus.”
“Not in front of the baby!” Nick reminded him in reproachful tones. He hesitated. “What did you say was bad luck?”
“The tire blowing out?” Harvey asked. “It’s no big deal—”
Nick gave the pickup truck a suspicious look. “Stay out of that thing. I’ll be in touch. Please watch your filthy mouth around the baby, farm boy.”
With a swirl of his impractical black coat, he departed into the snowy trees.
“Your nice friend is right,” said Mrs. Link. “You shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain in front of the baby. Or in front of your friend, if it comes to that! He’s obviously very religious.”
“You have no idea,” said Harvey.
Mrs. Link patted her hair, so the kerchief went back into place over the rigid perm. “He certainly has a way about him, doesn’t he! I like to see a young man with good manners and that glint in his eye. What a charmer.”
“You have no idea,” Harvey repeated.
He didn’t think Nick had had time to enchant Mrs. Link. Usually he believed Mrs. Link was a good judge of character. A few days ago he’d been helping her hang up her laundry, and Ambrose Spellman ran past whooping at the sky for some reason. They’d both watched as Ambrose raced for the horizon and out of sight, arms stretched wide, as if possessed by the sheer joy of being alive and free.
Mrs. Link had clicked her tongue against her teeth. “There goes a wild bird.”
Harvey had only nodded, and bit his lip, and thought of Sabrina. Perhaps witches were all wild birds, their homes the wide, strange sky. Perhaps a witch would always be impossible to keep.
Mrs. Link whisked Harvey over to her house, where she talked about Nick’s sensitive soul—which was truly horrible—and gave Harvey some baby formula she kept for her youngest grandchild—which was truly helpful.
“You can pack the tins of formula and bring them with you,” she added.
Harvey gazed at her beseechingly. “Can’t the baby and I stay with you?”
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