by Teri Harman
He turned and put a hand on her cheek. She smiled tenderly. I don’t deserve you, he thought. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Of course.” She put a hand on top of his, leaning into his palm. “Don’t worry about it anymore.”
Simon pulled his lips tight, knowing he would worry about it and would also never fully forgive himself for hurting her—even if it was an accident and even if he had healed her. Willa could not—would not—be his collateral damage. There was already too much of that.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your mom sooner.” She searched his face. “Are you okay?”
Simon smiled falsely in answer, unable to give her a straight answer. He didn’t care that she hadn’t told him sooner; he understood how strange that must have been for her. But her question . . . Am I okay? He felt broken, split in two. His mind turned to his mother’s bizarre revelation and its heavy implications. He waited to be angry about what Cynthia had done, but he only felt reckless hope. This could lead to answers, to actual reasons for his powers. If finding out he was a witch had been a relief, this could be freedom. Because if he understood, he believed he could control it, reign it in, and not continually worry that something like today might happen again. It might also be possible that, if they knew how it had happened, there might be a way to fix it, to make him normal.
This was the first thing his mother had ever done to help him.
“I’m okay,” he said. “And don’t worry about the thing with my mom. I get it. It’s so weird.”
“Very weird, and now I understand a little more about why you are not close. She was . . .”
“I know.” He exhaled and shook his head. “Are you sure you want to go back to the cave?”
“Absolutely.” She pressed her lips together. “But I don’t want you to come with me.”
Simon blanched. “Why not?”
She looked down at his hands on top of hers. “Honestly . . . because I think it will be too much for you.” She looked up and hurried on to say, “Why relive it, Simon? You already do that in your dreams. It would just be torture.”
Simon opened his mouth to protest and then snapped his jaw closed. The idea of going back there terrified him, as hard as that was to admit. He nodded. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “But I hate for you to go alone.”
“I won’t. Rowan will go with me.” Willa looked to Rowan, driving the SUV. Rowan nodded into the rearview mirror.
“Okay,” Simon said, but his stomach twisted with worry. That place . . .
He looked out the window. The rain beaded and raced off the window, the storm finally reaching its full potential. He turned his thoughts to a serious question that had been nagging at him almost from the instant he saw Willa soar through the air. What do I do about my powers until we find answers? If we find them. The cliff incident—actually both cliff incidents—had changed things, changed him. It wasn’t safe—he wasn’t safe anymore. He saw only one option.
Rowan pulled the SUV into the driveway of Plate’s Place, killed the engine, and turned around. “I don’t think we need to tell everyone about what your mother said, or the plans to go to the cave.” He paused and Simon nodded.
“Thank you, Rowan. I’d rather not say anything until we know more.” Simon swallowed a knot in his throat. He knew the looks he’d get from everyone once he got inside, the same looks he’d endured after the cave and after the buried-alive test—that questioning, almost fearful look. Keeping his mo-
ther’s revelation from them would help, at least a little.
“Rowan?” Simon said when Rowan turned to get out of the car.
He turned back. “Yes?”
“I can’t keep training. I have to stop using my magic.” The words hurt like a punch to the gut.
Rowan blinked, Willa flinched. “What do you mean?” Rowan asked. “It’s very important—”
“Not as important as not hurting anyone else,” Simon said, cutting off Rowan’s attempt to reason.
“But, Simon—” Willa tried.
“No, I’m serious about this,” Simon said firmly. “We don’t know what’s going on, and it only seems to be getting worse. It’s safer for everyone.”
Rowan shook his head. “That’s not a good idea, Simon.”
He exhaled, frustration building inside him. This was the way it had to be, and he didn’t want to fight about it. “Neither is more people dying.” With that, Simon bolted from the car, leaving Willa and Rowan stunned.
Willa stared at the open car door. “He’s terrified,” she whispered.
Rowan exhaled and rested his head on the seat. “He is capable of such greatness. I don’t think there has ever been a witch as powerful as he. But this shutting down scares me. It might backfire, turn him into a ticking bomb instead of diffusing the problem.”
“I agree. I just don’t know how to change his mind.” Willa sighed in exhaustion and frustration. “I think Amelia can help, if she will talk to me, if she is still at the cave. Simon needs answers, he needs facts—actual knowledge he can work with. We need to show him that his powers are a blessing and not a curse. I just worry . . .” she trailed off, her eyes moving to the side door that Simon had recently slammed shut behind him.
“What?” Rowan asked.
Tears filled her eyes, and she looked at him through the mist. “That it really is a curse.”
As much as she wanted to go in and talk to Simon, Willa knew she must take care of something else first. Rowan gave her the keys to his SUV, and she drove to her parents’ house. Parked in the driveway, she leaned forward on the steering wheel and looked up at the small Tudor-style house, with its climbing ivy and smiling paned windows.
A new feeling bloomed inside her, the petals unfurling in an odd tingle of realization. This is not my home anymore. Of course, it would always be her childhood home and the place where her parents lived, but it was no longer the place she belonged. The realization felt both freeing and depressing, as most changes are.
After a deep breath, Willa got out of the car and bolted through the rain for the front door. Finding it unlocked, she opened it quietly. It was Sunday morning; her parents would be reading in bed. Slowly, she ascended the stairs, running her hand over the glossy wooden banister. She recalled the time she’d tied her mom’s scarves to her stuffed animals, then tied one end to the banister, and sent them all bungee jumping over the edge. She smiled at the memory and then frowned. Childhood knows nothing of what waits in adulthood.
Her parents’ door stood open; she stepped nervously into the doorway. At the sound of her footsteps, her mother looked up from her novel and gasped. “Willa, what happened to you?”
Willa sighed. “It’s a long story.”
Her mom’s blue eyes widened, and she closed her book. She opened her mouth to speak, but Ethan spoke first. “Then you better sit down and tell us.”
Willa and Sarah both looked at him in surprise. Willa said, “It involves the Covenant and magic, Dad.”
He put down his Kindle and exhaled. “I know.” He gestured to the armchair next to their bed. “Sit down. I want to hear; and, if I can, I will help.”
Willa’s chest grew tight with emotion. “Really?”
“Yes, good grief! Can we not make a big mushy deal out of it?” He smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling into thick folds.
Willa crossed to the chair cautiously, not sure what to feel. “Wait!” Her mom said and climbed off the bed. “Umm . . .” she looked at Willa’s wet, muddy clothes, “let me get a towel.”
With the chair protected from her muddy clothes, Willa sat and told her parents about Simon and the cliff, about the owl and her nightmare, about Simon again. Her dad’s face paled more than once, but he listened intently.
“So you’re going back to that cave?” Ethan asked. “Is that safe?”
“Yeah, of course. The Dark witches aren’t there anymore.”
“Poor Simon,” Sarah said. “What happens if Amelia isn’t there an
ymore?”
Willa shook her head and brushed at a patch of dried mud on her knee. “I really don’t know.”
Ethan leaned forward. “Willa, I say this not to attack or argue but as a concerned father: Is it safe for you to be with Simon?”
Her first reaction was to be defensive, to jump up, and yell that he couldn’t possibly understand, but she took a breath. “Dad, Simon didn’t mean to hurt me. It was an accident, one he’ll hate himself for. He needs my help.”
“I understand that, I do,” Ethan responded. “But it seems like maybe your relationship is a little unequal. You do a lot to help him, to keep him steady. It has always seemed things are more about him than you. Does he help you in equal measure?”
Willa narrowed her eyes, needing a moment to understand his question. “Wouldn’t you help Mom if she found out she had cancer?”
He nodded, “Of course.”
“Well, it’s no different. Simon is going through a very difficult . . . magical illness right now. I’ll help him, no matter what he gives back.” She paused. “But he makes me happy, Dad. I feel at home with him, and he’s my voice of reason. So yes, he helps me too. I know if the situation were reversed, he’d be there for me. He’ll always be there for me.”
“Good,” Ethan said with a small smile. He looked over at his wife and then back to Willa. “I’ve always been a little skeptical of your relationship—it happened so fast—but I . . .” he exhaled, “may have judged him a little harshly. I’m sorry for that.”
With a smile, Willa said, “Thanks, Dad.” Why the sudden change in heart? she wondered. “I know this hasn’t been easy for you and Mom, but thanks for trying to understand.”
“I think I understand too well, and that is my problem,” Ethan said, looking down at his Kindle.
“What do you mean, Dad?” Willa sat forward.
“Well, I don’t understand the whole magic thing—that will always confuse me—but there was a thing with your Uncle Rod. You wouldn’t know it now, but at your age he got mixed up with this bizarre group of people. They claimed to be a church, but really it was a cult. And it messed him up big time.” He paused to take a long breath. “If he hadn’t met Karen and she hadn’t pulled him back, I don’t know what would have happened.” He lifted his eyes. “I know that you aren’t doing what Rod did, but it felt too much like it. It scared me, and I’m sorry it took me so long to see passed that.”
Willa could only nod, amazement and emotion locking down her voice. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t know.”
“I know. I should have told you sooner.”
Sarah hadn’t said much during the discussion, but now she spoke up. “Are you really happy, Willa? Can you be happy in all that chaos?”
Willa looked over at the rain-spotted window. The storm had slowed, a few rays of sunlight breaking through the grayness. Am I? Can I? She tried to picture what her life would be like right now if she’d never met Wynter, never joined the Covenant. There would be college, a job, her parents. What would it be like if she’d never met Simon? A cold trickle moved down her neck. She turned back, the thoughts shifting in her mind like the storm clouds outside. “I am more me in this life. That’s happy, isn’t it?”
Sarah’s eyes grew wet, and she nodded. “I think so.”
Willa exhaled. “Why the sudden change?” she asked, looking to her dad.
He shifted uncomfortably. “I woke up in the middle of the night and went into your room to check on you—an old habit from when you were young. When you weren’t there, I panicked. I had the phone in my hand to call the police when your mom woke up and explained.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why, but not seeing you there in your bed—something clicked in my head. You’re not little anymore. I can’t check on you in your sleep and keep you hidden away from the world, real or magical.” Looking down, he exhaled and then said. “I still hate it. I hate this dangerous life you have, but it’s not my place to stand in the way—no more than if you’d joined the military or something like that.”
Willa blinked and sucked in a breath. She’d been comforted until that last part, but she was grateful for the honesty. She nodded; unsure of a response, and so she said, shifting forward in the chair, “I have to get back now. And . . .” she swallowed and clasped her hands together, “I’m not coming back. I’m going to pack a bag and stay at Plate’s Place. I need to be there.”
“Are you sure?” her mom said, eyebrows pulled together.
“I’m sorry, but, yes. It’s time.”
“It’s time,” her dad said with a look of resigned understanding.
She nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”
Ethan and Sarah exchanged a look. Willa wasn’t sure what to expect, imagining how hard it would be to let your only daughter leave home, especially with her life a dangerous, chaotic mess.
Abruptly, Sarah turned back, “There’s something I want to give you, Willa.” She slipped out of the bed and went into the closet. She came back with a small box. Gripping the sides, she looked down at Willa. “I should have given these to you sooner. But maybe there is something in them that will help you, or Simon, or just be interesting for you.” She held out the box.
Willa stood to accept it. Inside were several books of different colors, sizes and materials. “What are these?” she said, a strange glimmer of emotion in her heart.
“My mother’s and grandmother’s grimoires.” Sarah smiled. “I nearly threw them out so many times over the years, but could never bring myself to do it. I’m glad I didn’t.”
Willa’s heart swelled, a few tears slipped down her face. All the grimoires she’d read over the last months, all those witches she didn’t know, and now these. How wonderful would it be to read the words of her own family, to feel their magical echoes on the pages, and find a connection to the women she’d never known. Something about these grimoires gave her a grounded sense of identity. She was part of a legacy, not just a lonely anomaly. Her tears grew, and she found herself on the verge of sobbing.
“Thank you, Mom.”
Sarah smiled, her own eyes wet. “Come on. I’ll help you pack.”
Simon hadn’t moved from the bed since he stormed into the house after bailing from the car. Coward! he thought for the fiftieth time—not only for running away from Willa and Rowan’s shocked faces but also for choosing not to use his magic. It may be a logical course of action, but it felt wrong. It felt like running away. And, as he’d already decided today, running away never worked.
He exhaled forcibly as he rolled to his side. The storm final broke. Sunlight reflected through the raindrops on the window casting tiny rainbow prisms across the dark wood floor. Dazed from over-thinking, Simon watched the colors play against each other, a small headache pulsing in the back of his head.
The door creaked open, and he jerked toward the sound. Willa! She stepped in quietly, a loaded duffle bag on her shoulder and box in her hands. He’d never been so happy to see a duffle bag in all his life. He leaped off the bed and pulled her into his arms.
“Welcome home,” he whispered. She laughed and then pulled back. A cocktail of emotions stirred in her eyes. “How did they take it?”
“Really well,” she said quietly. “I guess.” A frown pulled at her lips. “Simon, you can’t give up your magic. I think that’s more dangerous than using it.”
Simon shook his head. “But what if—”
“Listen,” she said sternly, and he pressed his lips together. “I know you’re scared of hurting someone, but I had a thought. The cave, the clock, and today—they all involved your Mind gift, right?”
He nodded, “Yeah, I guess.”
“Then you just have to stay away from anything that could aggravate that part of your magic. You can still use regular magic, train and do the Elemental Challenge. Right?” She dropped her bag, and it hit the floor with a loud thud. “That’s the easy stuff. You can do that in your sleep.”
Simon nodded, slowly, considering. Can it work? “It’s still a
risk . . .”
“Maybe, but probably less of a risk than suppressing everything.” She grabbed his upper arms. “Do you really want to give up on the challenge? Give up the title of True Witch?” She gave him a small smile.
“I guess not,” he pretended to debate. He’d been waiting months to see how well he could do in the Elemental Challenge.
Willa scoffed. “Just admit that I’m right.”
He smiled. “Fine. We’ll give it a try, but . . .” All joking and smiles drained from him. “But if anyone else gets hurt, even if it’s just a scrape, I’m done, Willa.”
Her face grew as solemn as his. “I know,” she said quietly. “I know this is all kinds of messed up right now, and I’m sorry.”
He hugged her. “For now, I’m trying to have faith that Amelia will save me once again.”
“Me, too.”
Simon thought of Willa going back to the cave, his trepidation increasing. A sudden thought formed in his mind, an urge he never expected to feel. The idea had been vague, awakened by something Willa said at the cliff, but now it expanded into an insatiable desire. “Marry me?” he blurted out.
Willa jerked back and blinked up at him. “What?”
He swallowed; the words shocked him more than her. All his life he’d expected to be alone, never daring to dream of such normal things as love and marriage. But suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to be tied to Willa in every way possible, legally as well as magically. He took her face in his hands. Of course, he knew he didn’t deserve her after all he’d put her through the last months. He still hadn’t fully opened up about the cave, but if he couldn’t do that, he could do this. “I want to marry you. No one has ever loved me like you do, and I want to love you as completely as I can in return.”
Willa stared for a moment, her face awash in shock. “Simon, I don’t want you to feel obligated . . .” she exhaled slowly, “I know I brought it up on the cliff, but . . .”
“No, no, that’s not it.” He took her hands. “I want to. What did your grandma say? ‘A perfect magical circle?’” He squeezed her hands.