At this, we all fall silent. As much as I want to believe that the circle hasn’t escalated its violence to the level of murder, I don’t like the idea that there’s an unknown entity out there.
That night, I barely sleep, and when I do, my dreams fill with flames. If it’s not the circle doing it, then who? And why? Is Bria right—is the connection that the victims all have been from founding families? If so, does that make me a target? Or my mom or Jodi?
At five in the morning, I send a text to Seth asking about his progress finding a spell to disconnect the circle from the crystal. Even if they’re not behind what’s been happening, I still don’t like the idea of them being anchored to the stone any longer than necessary. Whether or not they’re behind the magic that’s killing founding family members, there’s still darkness in their spells, and I don’t want to give it the chance to escalate any further.
I doze after that, slipping into a dreamless sleep. When I open my eyes, my room is filled with sunlight and I blink a few times before I can focus on the time on my phone. Eight seventeen. Panic flares—I’m late for school—before I remember I’m suspended.
The house is quiet—Mom and Jodi are already at work. Mom left a note on the refrigerator informing me about our meeting with Crystal Taylor after school.
Seth texts back around nine. I’ve had no luck yet, but I may be on to something. Believe me, if this crystal is what you say it is, I want nothing more than to find this spell.
No sooner do I read this text than another arrives: When the time comes, I hope you’re ready.
His words resound in my brain. Am I ready? Whatever this spell is, it’ll probably be complex and difficult. Will I be able to do it? I can do simple spells now without much effort, but since I’ve been spending time with the psychics, I’ve been mostly neglecting developing my magic. Last night’s fireball was the biggest thing I’ve ever done, and I’m not sure I could repeat it on demand.
With nothing else on my agenda today, I spend the time practicing. Simple glamors come as easily as breathing now, but I haven’t been able to repeat a complete makeover that sticks since the day I used the crystal. I’m still in my pajamas and use magic to change the look of my clothes. It sticks until I try conjuring a palm-sized fireball, so I try again.
When I run out of ideas to try, I scour the internet for suggestions, laughing at some of the more fanciful—turning into a crow—and trying others. I spend some time in the greenhouse, managing to make a basil plant double in size. I find some palm-sized quartz crystals in a box in the corner and practice charging a chunk of rose quartz with energy. Since Seth’s ability to use magic is limited, maybe I can give him a stone to help focus his power.
I sit on the couch, reading different articles about storing energy in crystals and practicing charging the rose quartz with magic before discharging it again. By the time I hear a car door slam in the driveway, I feel accomplished, like I’ve learned more today than I have all year at school.
Mom pushes open the front door and a gust of cold air follows her in. My stomach clenches. By the time I got back from the hospital, she was in bed, but Jodi said she told her everything. I pressed her for Mom’s reaction to learning her daughter’s a psychic witch, but Jodi claimed she couldn’t get a read. Now I watch Mom’s face for a hint about what she’s thinking. I could try to pick up on her emotions, but I’m afraid of what I might sense.
Mom uses a hand to straighten her ruffled hair, pausing to smile when she catches my eye. I relax, smiling back, until her expression flickers, her eyebrows pulling together. “Where’d you get that outfit?”
“Oh.” After practicing, holding onto a glamor without thinking about it became easier. Right now, I’m in a pair of high-waisted, wide-leg cream pants and a green blouse with puffy sleeves—something I saw in one of Jodi’s magazines on the coffee table. I exhale and the glamor falls, leaving me in a plain tee-shirt and jeans.
Mom gasps, her hand flying to her mouth and my muscles tense, my mind spinning. Why did I do that? Am I trying to freak her out? I open my mouth, ready to apologize, but mom lets out a short laugh. “Wow. That was pretty much the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I smile, too, but the expression slips almost instantly and I’m crying, my knees buckling. Before I fall, Mom is beside me, her arms around me, holding me up. She ushers me toward the couch and we both sink down onto it. She holds me close, rubbing my back with one hand and patting my hair with the other.
When my tears subside, she asks, “What’s wrong, honey?”
I wipe my eyes. “I was afraid you’d think I’m a freak.”
She puts her hands on my shoulders, holding me out so she can look at my face. “Oh, hon. Let’s be honest. I always knew you were a freak.” After a beat, she grins and I swat at her.
“Not cool, Mom.” My eyes prickle again, but it’s a laugh, not a sob, that rises in my throat.
She strokes my cheek, her face serious. “You’re my daughter. There’s nothing you could do or be that would make me love you any less.” Her mouth twitches, like she’s holding something back.
I scan her thoughts without making a conscious effort to do so, pulling back only when I brush against the thing that’s keeping her silent. “What about Dad?”
Her eyes widen with surprise before she sighs, shaking her head. “Before he left, he told me you were different. Special. He didn’t explain what that meant, but he told me to move you here, that Jodi would be a good influence.”
My mind struggles to file this information. Did Dad tell her this in the other reality, too? I can’t imagine he did—otherwise, why did we stay in Fraser? But what’s different here that would’ve made him tell us to move? Does my father know what Jodi is—what I am? If so, how is that different from before? Except that now, Jodi still practices magic; in the other timeline, she didn’t.
“That being said,” Mom continues, “I think we need to lay some ground rules about you mind-reading me or whatever it is you do.”
I bite my lower lip. “Yeah, sorry about that. Sometimes it just happens. I’ll try not to.”
She sighs. “Some moms worry about their kids doing drugs. I worry about mine scanning my thoughts.”
We laugh and she pulls me into a hug. I lean into her, breathing in the scent of her shampoo—vanilla. I close my eyes, slipping my arms around her back and pulling her close. I love her so much. No matter what complications there are now from bringing the crystal back, they’re all worth it just for this. I have my mom, a fact I’ll never take for granted again. I’ve regretted going to the past for the crystal so many times since we did the spell, but this one moment eclipses all those others.
The front door opens and Mom and I separate. “I’m here!” Jodi calls. “Let’s go or we’ll be late.”
On the way to the school, Jodi insists she should be the one to talk to Crystal Taylor. “I’ve known her the longest. I might be able to reason with her.”
The parking lot is less than half-full when we arrive. Most students have already cleared out for the day, leaving teachers and students sticking around for tutoring or clubs. Jodi parks in one of the spots up front reserved for guests and we head for the main office.
Crystal Taylor is waiting for us. Her eyes narrow momentarily when she sees Jodi, but the expression passes quickly and she offers a warm smile, shaking hands with Mom and Jodi in turn. I only know Jodi’s history with Crystal Taylor up until the night of the fire—the night Crystal Jamison and I went back in time. They were part of the same circle, but Jodi was against her friend’s quest for more magic and refused to take part in the spell that ultimately caused the fire. A pang shoots through me as I sit down, realizing my relationship with my circle, with Crystal Jamison, is an echo of that past.
Crystal Taylor settles in her chair, her eyes on my mom. “I understand you have some questions about Kristyl’s suspension.”
“Yeah,” Jodi says, drawing the principal’s attention. “We were wondering exactly w
hat she’s suspended for.”
“Aggressive behavior.” She says it as if it should be obvious.
Jodi crosses her arms over her chest. “What behavior, exactly?”
The corners of Crystal Taylor’s mouth downturn. “She and two friends were ganging up on another student. Luckily, I arrived before they could attack him.”
Jodi doesn’t disguise a snort. “Attack? From what I understand, it was Zane Ross doing the attacking.”
The principal sighs. “You honestly believe their story? That Zane was choking all three of them at once? He wasn’t even anywhere near them—”
“You can stop pretending,” Jodi snaps. “I know you know. We all know.”
“Jodi, please—”
“Please what? Ignore the fact that you’ve got a problem of a magical variety going on here? Look, I wasn’t there. Maybe Krissa and her friends did do something to piss Zane off. Not that I believe that, but let’s just go with that for argument’s sake. Nothing—nothing—gives him the right to strangle people.”
Crystal Taylor shakes her head. “Sometimes kids do stupid things. They don’t always think.”
“And that’s an excuse? Tell me, Crystal—did you suspend Zane?”
Her eyes flicker down to the desktop. A confession. “I told him on no uncertain terms that misuse of magic like that won’t be tolerated.”
The injustice of the situation rankles and I can’t keep quiet. “But you are tolerating it. You’re punishing me and my friends when all we did was stop ourselves from getting killed!”
“Please, don’t be dramatic. I highly doubt—”
“You weren’t there. It was like a giant snake was squeezing the air out of my lungs. Zane wasn’t going to stop.”
Jodi leans forward. “You, of all people, know what that kind of power can do to your mind. You tore our circle apart—you burned down your house, for crying out loud!”
Crystal Taylor rolls her shoulders, her expression tightening. “I’m not interested in discussing the past. You came here to talk about your niece’s suspension. We’ve talked. She and her friends can return to school on Friday.” She stands, extending an arm toward the door. “If there’s nothing else—”
“Like hell,” Jodi growls, also rising. “We’re not being dismissed here. Kristyl’s suspension stands? Fine. Bullshit, but fine. But when she gets back, you’d better make sure certain students understand this building is, on no uncertain terms, a magic-free zone. If you don’t—if anything happens to her—there will be hell to pay, Crystal. Bet on it.” Jodi nods at Mom and me and we take her cue to leave.
Jodi seethes on the way to the car and Mom insists Jodi hand over the keys, that she’s far too upset to drive. Jodi doesn’t fight, and the whole way home, her anger radiates off her in waves. There’s no doubt in my mind her threat was serious, and I can’t help wondering what kind of hell she plans to unleash if Crystal Taylor can’t meet her demands.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I’m in my room after dinner when Mom’s voice drifts upstairs. “Krissa, there’s someone at the door for you.”
Before I get to the bottom stair, I know it’s Fox standing on my front porch. I hesitate. What could he be doing here? Is this about last night? Does he have a message for me from the circle? I cross to the door and nod, a tacit invitation for Fox to enter the house. As Mom closes the door behind him, I incline my head toward the stairs. After a beat, she nods and I lead the way up to my room. I perch on the edge of my bed and Fox grabs the desk chair, setting it three feet in front of me.
“Hey,” I say as he sits.
He exhales noisily, running both hands through his hair. “Krissa,” he breathes, propping his elbows on his thighs.
I wait, but he doesn’t continue. I press forward with my abilities just enough to get a sense of his emotions and am surprised when it’s guilt and shame that rush to the forefront. Was he lying last night when he said he didn’t know what happened to Felix? “Fox, what’s going on?”
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 possibi
lity, 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.
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