by Luna Pierce
I scan the few books on top that Abigail had brought me, pulling them onto my lap and examining their covers. I peek at the rest of the books and am disappointed to not see the one she had recited the passage from that created all this chaos in my mind. It must be one of the texts that had to stay behind in the shadow realm.
I’ll have to make sure I spend my extra time there studying the contents to see if I can figure out another way to break the curse. A way other than killing someone I love.
A migraine creeps its way in like it’s my body’s way of reminding me of the caffeine I’ve forgotten today. Risking being seen on a coffee crusade is not in the picture, though.
But with Abigail’s spelled pen, I don’t have to risk someone potentially spotting me.
I press the button, per instructions, and my entire body goes invisible. It’s fucking spooky but so damn cool. I push it again, and my body comes back into vision.
I throw on an oversized gray sweater and pair of slippers, clicking one more time to cloak myself, and slowly open my dorm room door. I peer outside to make sure the coast is clear, quietly shutting the door behind me and make my way down the hall. Up ahead, a few students are hanging around the lounge area in the center of the building. I hold my breath in anticipation, but when I walk in their line of sight, not a single one of them glances in my direction.
Thank you, Abigail.
I shuffle my way down the stairs, sure to not make any noise in the process.
I’m about to make my trek through the foyer but stop dead in my tracks, eyes locking on to Silas, sitting firmly in place in one of the leather lounge seats. His head rises, and I’m almost certain he’s spotted me, but he never quite latches on to my gaze.
I stand, not daring to move, watching for his reaction.
A few moments pass, and his shoulders lower, and he resolves back into his seat. He appears like he’s waiting for something, like he might be waiting for me. My heart breaks, but I know this is what I have to do, at least until I find a better solution. I won’t let anyone get hurt on my watch. If I could take all of the pain for myself, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
My head throbs, reminding me of my mission. I close the space to the north wing, peeking through the teacher’s lounge door to confirm it’s empty, and then step inside. With my coffee shop part-time experience and Sydney’s help the last few weeks, I’ve mastered this machine. A few pushes later, I have my delicious cup of coffee, the sweet and roasted scents careening over me.
Mug in hand, I make my way toward the door, only to be startled by oncoming traffic. Shit. I didn’t expect my cup to be visible, but because I cloaked myself prior to making it, it’s not hidden with me. Hastily, I set it on a nearby table and freeze, the door to the room opening.
Slowly, I step backward, matching the strides of the newest members, Abigail and Headmaster Walker. Right when I’m about to alert them of my presence, they start speaking, so I hesitate.
“I can’t quite make sense of it,” he says.
“And you’re sure the hole keeps reopening?” Concern lines Abigail’s face.
“It’s like it’s being fueled somehow. Some unknown source is giving it power, enough to keep breaking open. No matter how many times I seal it off, it happens again.” Walker looks tired and desperately stressed, the wrinkles more prominent on his brow, dark rings around his eyes like he hasn’t been sleeping well.
Abigail grabs two cups and brews their coffees. Simple, black coffee—Walker’s with an extra shot of espresso and two heaps of sugar.
“I keep repairing it, every time making sure it’s rock-solid, only to find it broken back open. Luckily, it hasn’t been large or long enough for anything to come through.”
Did he just say, something to come through?
She shakes her head. “I’ll continue with my research for something more concrete to keep it closed. I’ll pull my resources.”
He takes the coffee she holds out to him, and they exit the room, leaving me with my thoughts and my own drink.
What keeps opening? Clearly, they’re referring to something supernatural. Are they talking about the shadow realm? Cracks in the seams? The same seams I check every single time I enter out of the fear instilled by Abigail about the demon realm? I could offer my help, but how would I do that without letting them know I eavesdropped on their conversation? I’d have to wait until one of them said something and speak up then. In the meantime, I’ll stay focused on my own problems.
I grab my drink, uncloaking and recloaking myself swiftly to include the cup, and head out of the room. Stealth game strong. Upon exiting the hallway, I spot Silas again. This time he’s joined by Sydney.
“You’re telling me you haven’t seen her?” Sydney urges.
Silas shakes his head. “No. Abigail said she needed some space. Have you talked to Deghan?”
“Deghan hasn’t heard from her either. And he asked Cameron, but he hasn’t either.”
Sydney lowers his shoulders. “I’m worried about her.”
“Did you ask the girls?” Silas questions.
“They act like they have no idea what I’m talking about. Remi’s exact words were: Why would we know where Willow is? It’s like she’s done a memory spell on them to forget her. I just don’t understand why. Why would she leave us all like this?” Sydney’s hair is disheveled, a frantic look across his face.
I reach my free hand toward them, desperately wanting to click the pen, showing myself to them to ease their pain, but knowing damn well that the main thing I’d be doing is prolonging the inevitable.
It’s better this way, I remind myself. It has to be.
“It’s beyond me, but I’m sure she had her reasons,” Silas finally admits.
Not being able to take the sorrow flowing through the space, I turn, walking straight past the garden and up the stairs, leaving no trace of myself behind.
Inside my room, I breathe a little sigh of relief, watching my body take shape into the world again with a simple snap. I resolve into my lone window seat, coffee in hand, observing the sun go down on the horizon. My gaze flickers to something lower, on the ground.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he solemnly studies the same burning sky.
Deghan. He never misses a sunset.
If I can’t be near him, at least I can enjoy the view with him, even if he has no idea. I close my eyes, thinking deeply of him, willing him to know he’s not alone, that I’m right here, I still care. I care so goddamn much.
I open them back up and a faint, radiating pinkish orb flows from my chest, through the glass, gliding its way directly to him. It perches on him and soaks into his body. Somehow, the tension in his shoulders relax a bit, and he rubs his arms, glancing left then right, then, surprisingly behind him, and up toward my window. His gaze scans the building, and without letting it happen, I cloak myself from sight. His striking deep-golden eyes pierce through my window. Deghan runs a hand through his hair, sighing and turning back toward the sky.
Maybe I’ll tell them one day the sacrifice I made for them, but not now, not while it’s all so fresh and raw. I’ll sink into the shadows and do my best to disappear from their lives. It’s a pain so dull and sharp and wide and haunting, to be so close to having so much, only to be left with nothing at all. To taste such bittersweet happiness and lose it in the blink of an eye.
No longer able to sit back and do nothing, I grab the books from the bag and arrange them on my bed, desperate to come up with something, anything. The texts are old, covered in layers of dust and decay, and a great deal of them are illegible, some foreign languages I can’t seem to translate. I stay up most of the night scouring them, and at some point, the bright sky and howling in the distance reminds me that it’s the full moon, and the woods are a dangerous place for anyone who’s not a lycanthrope.
My heart aches again at the thought of Deghan, watching the sunset alone, not a clue as to why I left without a trace. To Sydney resorting to talking to one of his least
favorite people in an attempt to find me, desperation caked across his face the instance he nearly begged for any type of answer. To Silas, hopelessly waiting in the most central of locations in the school for a whiff of my existence, and even when he found it, I was too much of a coward to let him confirm his suspicions. And to Cameron, who has the least answers of all. At least Silas, Deghan, and Sydney can assume it’s something supernaturally related. Cameron probably thinks I’ve up and vanished for no reason, and no one can offer him any explanations, including the girls.
I wouldn’t know what to say if I tried.
Ugh, hey, guys, I sort of have feelings for all of you, and I’m cursed to kill someone I love to break the curse, so I have to say goodbye, so I don’t have to murder any of you. Sorry, it was fun while it lasted. Oh, and according to what I recently discovered, you’ll all be driven madly away from me at some point, so if we continued on the path we were on, we would have had that to look forward to. At least like this, we can just use our imaginations with what we thought our futures together might have been like.
And maybe eventually, this won’t hurt so bad. Maybe we’ll be able to pass each other in the hall with a kind smile of what could have been, them never really knowing why it couldn’t have worked, but tenderly happy we got the time together that we did.
If anything, I’ll be forever grateful for the moments I shared with each of them, and now, I’ll continue to care for them from a distance, while I watch them slowly forget about me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Time passes—first the long, agonizing minutes, the empty hours, lonely days, depressing weeks. It blurs together, fades into nothing, just like I do.
I cloak myself every chance I get, and Abigail has started to warn that if I don’t talk to the guys soon, she’s going to take my pen away. I avoid them like the plague. The plague that consumes my soul and leaves me a blubbering mess most nights.
It’s pathetic, really. The way this entire situation has taken hold and made me so fucking miserable. I’ve become obsessed. A feign on figuring this out, that I’ve started going to the shadow realm to study by myself, and when school isn’t in session. It’s the easiest way to sneak around and have the time alone to think and process the texts.
Abigail has been kind and given me extra time during our sessions, but it’s never enough, and the daunting seconds that pass are a reminder that I need more—more knowledge, more time, more answers.
So that’s what I’ve found. The time part.
I thought that by now the guys would have made an effort to move on, but each time I silently pass them in the hall, their desperate energy clings on to me and threatens to shatter me into a million pieces. It only fuels me more to figure this out, but each time I try, I come up empty-handed.
I can’t figure out who cursed the Oliver family, it’s been written out of the history books. I can’t figure out why, other than we were too powerful. Someone was jealous of the sheer mass of our magic and found a way to steal it, to harness it for themselves. They’ve been exploiting the Oliver witch energy sources for far too long, and now, it seems nearly impossible to break the curse. It’s a short matter of time before they locate my magic and come for me, too.
“I’m telling you,” Abigail insists, her friendly demeanor dissipating. “Either give it here or go talk to them. They’re literally driving me insane. Every single time I walk through a hallway in this building, one of them stops to see if there are any updates. You’re like a missing freaking person to them. They need answers, and it’s not my place to tell them.”
She’s become my closest friend these past few weeks, and the only person I’ve really talked to. I show up for my normal classes but stay as hidden and out of sight as possible, getting my work done, turning in my assignments on time, and cloaking myself to and from class. It’s not always easy, but I manage.
I’m not sure if it’s my inhibitions lacking, or the need to soothe their pain, but I say, “Okay.”
Her eyes widen. “Okay like you’ll talk to them or okay like you’re giving the pen back?”
“I’ll talk to them.” I swallow and comprehend, deep down, it’s the right thing to do, it always has been. I was wrong for leaving them behind like this, but at the time, I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought it would make it easier on all of us, but watching the time go by and not seeing any of us getting any better, I realize it was a mistake, at least in the way I did it.
“Damn, that’s great.” She pauses. “You mean soon, though, right?”
“Where’s Sydney?”
She closes her eyes, breathing in deeply, concentrating fiercely. “His dorm.”
Her magic gives her the ability to do a mental locator spell. It’s absolutely mind-blowing. Most witches have to have a personal item or some DNA to do a locator spell, but Abigail can simply focus on them intently and find where they are.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I say, shoving my notebooks into my bag and swinging it over my shoulder. “Wish me luck.”
She smiles kindly. “You’ve got this.”
I head back into the school’s realm, cloaking myself so rapidly you’d never have noticed my presence. I round the corner and enter the north dorm’s hallway, immediately feeling both Sydney’s and Deghan’s energies.
Not giving myself the chance to change my mind, I gently knock on Sydney’s door. My heart seems to beat out of my chest, and I fight back the urge to cry, something I’ve been so damn afraid of if I encountered any of them.
The door swings open, a look of hopefulness fleetingly lost when he finds the hallway empty. He steps into the space, and I sidestep around him, not to bump into him. Being this close to him sends shivers down my spine.
He frowns, slowly retreating and shutting the door behind him. I watch him meander back to his bed, sitting and throwing himself onto his back with a sigh.
I clear my throat, making my company known, and then uncloak myself.
He’s on his feet so fast, a blur of Sydney rushing toward me, only to stop inches from my face, taking me in and scanning me for any harm.
“Hey,” I say, not able to meet his eyes.
He grabs his chest. “Willow,” he breaths. “Are you… are you okay?”
I nod. “I’m okay.”
Extending his hand, he hesitates.
I die for him to complete his task, to pull me in, but I don’t dare deserve the physical comfort. I don’t deserve the sheer concern spilling out of him in heaps.
“Where have you been, sweet girl?” His hand brushes my face.
I close my eyes in response, a single tear tumbling down my cheek. At this, he gives in, tugging me into him, and I die a million deaths in his embrace.
“I’m sorry, Syd… I’m so sorry.”
“No, no, no. Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He presses closer, holding me tight and patting my hair. “Here,” he says, leading me a few steps away from where I appeared, motioning for me to sit.
I sigh. “Listen, I can’t stay. I just wanted to tell you it’s okay to stop looking for me. I’m sorry I left the way I did, but it’s for the best. There are things out of my control, out of all of our control, and it has to be this way.”
“What do you mean, you can’t be serious?”
“I need some more time…”
His expression changes. “Is this about the curse? We can figure this out, Willow. You don’t have to do this on your own.”
“I do, though, to an extent. I can’t risk you getting hurt, any of you. I’d never be able to live with myself if I knew I harmed you and could have done something to prevent it. I’m sorry this has been hard on you, but you need to know, it’s okay to move on, to stop looking. Please, do it for me.” The words come out along with more tears. I hate myself for breaking down but know there’s no other way.
I stand, taking Sydney’s face into my hands and place a soft kiss onto his forehead, and back away, going invisible with a click.
; He shakes his head. “You don’t have to do this, Willow. Let me help you, please, I’m begging you.”
I open his door, and he rushes forward, but anticipating him following me, I spell his door temporarily shut, leaving myself enough time to take a couple of steps down the hall, wipe my eyes, and knock on another door.
It’s like a bandage, ripping it all in one swift motion, the pain immediate and intense, but soon enough it will ease, right?
A beautiful face greets me, and I uncloak myself, watching his eyes brighten and saddening all at once. He reels me in without another thought, and I’m wrapped in his musky, earth scent, and I’m reminded all over again of our times together. I missed him so much, just as much as I missed Sydney, too. It’s another painful gaping wound I’ve tried so desperately to mend, with no success.
“Willow, god, Willow, where have—I don’t care anymore, you’re here, you’re here now. Christ, I was so worried.” He pushes back, scanning me over like he did that day in the foyer, following the night in the woods the time his friend nearly killed me.
I don’t protest his hold, even though when he squeezes me back in, he’s partially cutting off my oxygen supply. I smile into him, closing my eyes at the same time more tears make their way down.
It’s like the more I told myself to stop caring for them, the more innate that feeling became, like it weaved its way into every fiber of my being. Caring for them is a part of who I am now, and there’s nothing I can do about it to shut it off.
“I came to tell you I’m okay, and you can stop contacting Abigail and Walker about information.” The words come out harsher than I anticipated.
He frowns. “You’re leaving me again?”
His words break me.
“I have to,” I whisper.
Deghan shakes his head. “No, Willow, you don’t. What’s wrong? Tell me so I can help you fix it.”
“You don’t understand, you can’t. It’s not something you can fix… I don’t know if it’s something I can fix. But to keep you safe, it has to be this way.”