by Kayti McGee
The shop’s central wood stove piped cedar-scented heat into the air. I shucked off my coat, loosened my hair, and stretched languorously, which drew a look from Rose, then from Rosemary and Sage. I paused.
“Will my presence be too distracting?” I asked innocently.
“No,” the twins answered in unison.
“Yes,” Rose grumbled.
“Girl!” one of them hissed. “A little respect, please.”
Rose did not apologize. She yanked off her coat and gloves and began a valiant campaign to ignore me. Rosemary and Sage, on the other hand, monitored me constantly. It was noisome. I wanted to observe Rose without raising their suspicions.
That day, the twins’ lesson pertained to crystals, herbs, pendulums, tarot cards, candles, runes, and other basic tools used in spellwork. It was a quick and dirty survey of the fundamentals, which most witches learned by the age of ten.
Had Rose been born under another star, our roles might have been reversed; her coven might have prevailed against mine. Then she would be the sage, the scion of a great family, and I would be the child orphaned out like Moses in a basket.
I almost pitied her, and I wondered if she would spare me the way I had spared her, or if she would do her duty and crush me. Probably the latter, I thought with a smile. Rose did not strike me as a sentimentalist. At that very moment, her resolution to ignore me wavered and she gave me a sharp, murderous glance. Definitely the latter.
After an hour of discourse from the twins, Rose interrupted. She kept her voice low, as if she could stop me from hearing.
“This is all great”—she gestured to the array of artifacts on the table—“but what about the stuff we were doing yesterday? You know, real magic. Spells. That’s what I need. I need to be able to do things.”
“Child, we only rushed the protection spell because you asked. Spellwork is no place for a beginner to begin.”
“There are dangers—”
“Necessary steps—”
“Rites and rituals you really ought to know before—”
“I don’t have time,” Rose hissed.
If Rose had been my student, I could have imbued her with knowledge in order to spare her this tedious learning curve. Imbuing, unfortunately, was not within the twins’ power. Although if knowledge was imbued and not earned, would the requisite power be as easy to access? I frowned and rose from my chair.
“Rigescunt indutae,” I said. I snapped my fingers and the twins froze, both of them unblinking, staring like wax figures. Outside the shop, cars and dogs and people stopped. Conversations ceased mid-sentence. A lighter’s flame held perfectly still and a siren’s wail was swallowed by silence.
The world had paused for everyone and everything—except Rose and I. She didn’t flinch. She stared around, at the twins and out the front windows, at a spiral of incense smoke suspended in the air, and finally at me.
“Did you... is time...”
I waved away her questions. I hadn’t stopped time, not exactly. Time-bending required much more effort and sacrifice. Rather, I had isolated a moment and inhabited it temporarily. In another time, which mortals call reality, we also existed and acted, for there is a version of your soul in every instance of forever.
I narrowed my eyes as I drew closer to Rose. Oh yes, I definitely felt it: The spirit threads stretching between us, my temperament softening toward her. I could barely believe it, and yet the evidence was all around me.
“Did you bind me?” I said. Of course she had, but I needed to know her intent.
“What?” Her gaze darted around.
“A binding spell, Rose. You performed a binding spell. I can feel it.”
“No. No way. The only spell I know is—”
“Stop lying.” I laid my palms on the table and leaned toward her.
She didn’t shrink. She glared right back at me, holding my gaze for a few seconds, until something seemed to occur to her. Her brow furrowed and she almost giggled. “Well, if that was a binding spell,” she mumbled to herself, “maybe I—”
“What did you do?”
She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it and shrugged. “Why should I tell you? You aren’t going to help me. You won’t tell me anything, except that I’m in some mysterious danger you won’t explain. You want to get rid of me, but all you’re doing is trying to ruin the only hope I’ve managed to find.” She gestured around the shop. “So my choices are... what exactly? I can die fighting if I learn stuff, or just plain old die with no knowledge? It’s bullshit. You are bullshit.”
“I’m trying to protect you,” I snapped.
“Then teach me.” In an instant, she shifted from enraged to imploring. She moved as if to touch my hands, but she must have remembered the warding spell. She laid her fingers carefully in the spaces between mine, looked at our hands, and looked at my face. I could smell vanilla and lavender on her, and power and wonder, and I could see the glittering threads of her binding spell. “Please,” she whispered.
I tilted my head and brushed my mouth against hers. Maybe I wanted to ruin everything. The death drive has always been pronounced with me. Her ward raced between us like a thread of fire. I didn’t care. She made a small, throaty sound, her lips parted slightly, and then something went quite wrong. She lurched back and sucked in a breath. She clutched her chest, her eyes wide.
“Thorn,” she gasped.
No sooner had I processed the scene than my spell snapped. She broke my spell, which should have been impossible. I was sitting in my armchair near the woodstove. Sage and Rosemary were rattling on about The Hanged Man. Rose, shock written all over her face, stared at me and I stared at her.
“I have to go,” she stammered.
“What?” said one of the twins.
“But we aren’t finished,” said the other.
Rose grabbed her coat and bolted, her gloves forgotten on the table. I remained seated, as frozen as the world had been a few seconds ago. My lips were still stinging. I touched them, stunned, and remembered what Marion had asked me.
Was she strong? Could you tell?
I waited out the better part of the day before confronting Rose. Whatever had happened in the shop, she needed time to recover. She had run, after all, and poured herself a glass of wine as soon as she got back to Tessa’s house. I listened from across the street.
To my surprise, Rose actually began to pack—at least, it sounded like packing—opening and slamming drawers, unzipping something, and rushing around the house. After fifteen minutes of that, she plopped down and a long silence followed. Then she unpacked slowly, lit something, and ran a bath.
I exhaled, torn between relief and disappointment. I didn’t want her to leave. She needed to leave. Our association would end with her death.
Tessa arrived in the evening and the girls drank wine with dinner and continued to drink afterward. Rose claimed to have had a good day, which I knew to be a lie. I remembered her expression after our kiss: Full of fear, pain, and confusion. And yet I would have sworn she had returned that kiss, so what had gone wrong?
I turned the memory over in my mind as I crossed the street.
A basket of gourds on Tessa’s stoop heralded the season. Back in Juniper Hollow, the streets would soon be infested with pumpkins, seasonal wreaths, and faux cobwebs. The Blackmanes would burn candles to honor their ancestors and hang pentacles made of branches and autumn leaves. We would set out our onyx and obsidian and scrape mandalas in the earth around our homes.
During a lull in the girls’ conversation, I knocked on the door.
Tessa answered, a glass of wine in hand and a bubbly, startled smile on her lips.
“Oh!” she said when she saw me. “Uh, hello.”
I smiled contritely. “Sorry to bother you. Rose told me she was staying here, and she forgot these at Toil and Trouble.” I gestured with Rose’s black chenille gloves.
Tessa nodded, looking me up and down. Her smile turned slightly goofy. “I can, er... lemme j
ust get her for you.” She darted out of the room. I heard a hushed conversation from the kitchen. “Rose, what the hell? There’s a guy asking for you.”
“Huh?”
“There’s a guy... tall, gothic, hot? Has your gloves?”
“Oh my God.” Rose set down her glass. “He’s here?”
“Yeah. Should I get rid of him?”
“No! No. I’ll talk to him.”
“You sure?” Tessa’s voice grew hard. “Is he bothering you? I’ll call the—”
“Tessa, no. It’s not like that. He’s... a friend. Gimme a sec.”
Rose materialized, a lovely wine-glow on her face, her hair loose and disheveled. She had changed into lounge pants and a clingy T-shirt. She shuffled to the doorway, her eyes downcast. Incense gusted out into the colder air.
“You forgot these,” I said quietly.
“Right. Thanks.” She plucked the gloves out of my hands. The anger was gone from her demeanor, replaced by sheepishness and uncertainty. She glanced toward the kitchen. “I’d invite you in, but—”
“I understand.”
At last, she looked up at me. The low light from the kitchen caught the curve of her cheek like the last blaze before an eclipse. I could have skimmed that beam off her skin and spun it into anything she wanted. I pushed my hands into my coat pockets.
“How did you know I was here?” She stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind her, maybe to prevent Tessa’s heat from escaping, maybe to prevent Tessa from eavesdropping.
“I told you; you’re in danger. You’re too close to Juniper Hollow.”
She took a deep breath and sighed it out, as if making peace with my opacity.
“So you’re keeping an eye on me,” she said.
I nodded. We stood almost toe-to-toe and my boots looked rather serious juxtaposed with her stocking feet. A violent shiver went through her—the possessive kind that can’t be repressed. I shrugged off my coat and draped it around her. She huddled into it, clinging to the lapels, and continued staring at our feet.
“Now you’re in a T-shirt,” she mumbled.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Aren’t you cold?” She peeked at me.
“Doesn’t matter,” I repeated gently. “Why did you run away?”
“I... I felt...”
“I overstepped.”
“No.” She shook her head rapidly.
“Then what?”
Her eyes traveled up my jeans, along my torso to my face, only to flash away. “Is there some reason it’s hard to look at you?”
I laughed. “None that I can think of, though I’ve heard I have a suffocating effect on the atmosphere.”
Rose didn’t laugh.
“Maybe you should be more careful with your binding spells,” I added.
“I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“All the more reason to be careful. You should get back inside.”
“I didn’t run away,” she said. “I mean, I did, but. I’ve just been through a lot. I got overwhelmed.” She was lying to me and doing a bad job of it. I didn’t want to argue with her tonight, though.
“Fair enough, Rose. Will you meet me tomorrow?”
She blinked owlishly at me in the dark. “Meet?”
“For coffee. There’s a place across from the twins’ shop. Forget those two. I’ll answer any questions you have.”
“You’ll help me?”
I weighed my next words carefully, because I still knew that getting Rose to leave Colorado was my best shot at keeping her alive.
“I’ll answer your questions,” I iterated. “Can you be there at one?”
“Sure. Yeah. I’ll be there.”
I smiled tightly. She was too innocent and too optimistic. For all she knew, I was laying an elaborate trap, but she either didn’t care or didn’t consider it. Realizing that, I became more resolute; I needed to convince her to leave. In Juniper Hollow, she would truly be an orphan among wolves.
The porch light flickered on and a curtain shifted.
I walked away before Rose realized that my thousand-dollar coat was still hanging from her shoulders.
Because Rose had kept my coat, which, like most of my belongings, was threaded with magic and bound to me, I felt safe leaving her for the night. I would know if any harm came to her. In a way, the coat would tell me.
I checked into a nearby hotel, showered, and changed. Still, I didn’t sleep. I wasn’t tired and I wouldn’t risk rest if she might need me.
And what if she did? I pondered that question for hours, playing out scenarios in which Marion located Rose and I was forced to choose between a stranger and my family. I thought I knew what choice I would make. It didn’t surprise me. It felt inevitable, like the bands of fate.
As the sun rose, I was researching Kansas City on my phone and sending off emails and texts. I sorely missed my coat when I checked out and headed into the cold, but with a few words and a moment’s focus I brought warmth to my skin. Too many witches despised that kind of “trivial” magic. They fancied themselves purists and reveled in the base mortal experience: Hunger, aging, illness. I couldn’t see the sense in that, since, as it had always seemed to me, we had no higher calling.
My cell rang while I was walking. I stopped and collected myself quickly, and I banished all unease from my thoughts. Even if the Maven knew where I was, even if she had been scrying for me, she had no reason to suspect Rose was here.
“Marion,” I answered.
“Where are you? You’re out of reach.”
Marion usually brought me around with a summoning spell, which is akin to a telekinetic call. For our purposes, limiting digital records was safest.
“In Boulder. I took your advice about travel, but I didn’t get very far.”
Marion must have been distracted; my vague answer didn’t strike her as strange.
“Good,” she said. “I need you here. We can use Rune to bring back the girl.”
I understand exactly what she meant. In spite of my warming spell, a chill rippled through me. Marion wasn’t going to let Rose go. Not without a fight.
“Perfect. I’ll be back this evening. I’m supposed to meet with Rosemary and Sage.” The local uncovened were familiar to her in the same way any other wild animals were.
“Good.” She ended the call and cold dread swamped me. I was expected to terrorize Rune tonight. Then Rune would call Rose, pleading with her to return, and she would fly back to Juniper Hollow and into Marion’s waiting teeth. The true animals weren’t in the wild at all.
I got to the café early and scouted a private table for Rose and I. It was a typical hipster establishment, heavy on the plants, string lights, and distressed, mismatched furniture. Wispy folk music piped through the rooms. The building must have been a former residence; it contained multiple adjoining rooms, variously painted and wallpapered, rather than one large seating area. That worked out well for me. I found a small room with just one table and two armchairs. I ordered a coffee and gave the barista a twenty to cover Rose’s drink when she arrived.
Then I waited.
She appeared a few minutes late, carrying my coat and her order, which smelled like vanilla chai. Her hair was piled neatly on her head, a braid running through it and a few strands framing her face. She wore a fitted sweater dress and some light eye makeup, all of which explained her tardiness.
I frowned and looked out the window.
“There you are,” she said cheerfully. She slid her mug onto the table and offered my coat. “You shouldn’t leave your Burberry lying around.”
Wordlessly, I accepted the coat and folded it over the arm of my chair.
“Thanks for this.” She drummed her nails on the mug. “What are you having?”
“Coffee.”
“Oh.” She snickered. “Okay. I would have guessed some obscure herbal thing.”
I gave her a dry look. She flushed and sat back in her chair, sizing up my mood.
Before she c
ould start asking questions, I pushed a piece of hotel stationery toward her. On it I had written the name of an occult supply shop in Kansas City. Rose read the information, her nose crinkled at the bridge. Her mannerisms were infuriatingly adorable. I glared out the window.
“The owner of that shop knows my family,” I explained. “She’s eager to help you on the path. It won’t cost you anything. We exchanged a few emails this morning and I trust her instincts immeasurably more than the twins’.”
Rose stayed quiet for a while. She folded the paper and pocketed it. Hurt flickered across her face, then embarrassment, then anger.
“I see. So, you aren’t going to help me.”
My silence was tacit affirmation. I continued gazing out the window.
“And you aren’t going to answer all my questions,” she continued. “You’re still trying to get rid of me.”
I smirked. Ah, Rose... if I wanted to get rid of you, I would put your shoes by the door, sprinkle them with graveyard dirt, and have you on your way before you knew what hit you. But she would come back, I felt sure of it, unless she left of her own volition.
I stared at her boots and imagined myself on my knees, undoing the laces slowly.
“Well.” Her face had turned quite red. “I’m leaving, then. Nice try.” She began gathering her things clumsily.
“Please don’t,” I said.
“No. You’re an asshole.”
“Please.” If I was seeing her for the last time, I didn’t want it to be like this. Besides, I doubted she was marching off to Kansas City just yet. She would go back to Rosemary and Sage, to Juniper Hollow, if only to spite me. “Can we do this over? I want to answer your questions. I don’t want you to go.”
She hesitated, then sat woodenly and struggled out of her coat.
I cleared my throat and smiled. Once, Imogen had told me that I looked very unpleasant when I forced a smile, “like a grinning hyena.” I dropped the smile.
Rose glowered at a plant and I studied the table. Ah, we were off to a fine start. I knew exactly the spirit in which she had walked to the café—buoyant with expectation, a little giddy with infatuation—and I had ruined it. But Rose didn’t know about Marion’s plan. Rose didn’t feel the noose tightening around our necks. Even as I sat across from her, I couldn’t begin to guess how I would handle Rune, if I would hurt him or save him, and how I would explain my choice to Rose or Marion.