It’s only then that it strikes me: I don’t sense Fox. While it’s true that distance weakens the link somewhat, it doesn’t sever it. When we’re apart, he’s still in the background of my mind. But now, nothing. With effort, I focus on him—a faint glimmer at the edge of my awareness. I press a hand to my face. “It happened to the witches, too. I must’ve tapped into their energy. I didn’t even mean to.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s the point of a binding spell, after all—pooling abilities for members to use.” Dad curses again. “I should’ve thought of that. I should’ve had them all here, too—just to keep an eye on them while you were searching.”
I only half pay attention to him, following the links connecting me to the other witches, making sure everyone is okay. What if someone was driving? What if someone’s hurt? What if someone else is—
Zane’s face flashes in my mind before I can block it. Guilt twists my stomach. His death wasn’t my fault, it was Seth’s. But no matter how many times I try to convince myself of that, the fact is it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t done what Seth said, if I’d figured out who he really was earlier, Zane would still be alive...
By degrees, the energies of all the members of the circle flare in my awareness. Everyone’s fine. Confused, but fine. I shift and pull my phone from my back pocket.
I type out a quick text to the witches explaining what happened and apologizing. By the time I hit send, the psychics are regaining consciousness. Tucker’s the first to speak.
“I vote we not do that again.”
West rubs his forehead. “I’m with Tucker on this.”
I nod. “I know. I’m sorry. How much of that did you all sense?”
“Everything, I think,” Bria says. “Do you think they got anything from us?”
“I hope not.”
“What’s there to get, really?” Felix asks. “Seth already knows where we are. He already knows who we are—except Tucker. It’s not like we’ve really got a plan.”
“Except what the elder council wants to do,” Owen says. “And there’s the fact that Krissa’s dad is back, and that Anya’s here with him.”
Felix shrugs. “Yeah, but we don’t—”
What exactly we don’t have is cut off when a blinding surge of energy courses through all six of us. Panic flares and I try to block myself from the attack. But this is nothing like the earlier intrusion. Whatever’s happening is coming from somewhere close, someone linked. It’s an assault from within our own circle.
Dad’s voice calls to me, but I can’t make out his words. My vision darkens around the periphery as the glow of my psychic ability wanes. Whoever is doing this is going to take all I have to give. I reach down deep and tap into another glimmer of power—my magic and not my psychic abilities. As I focus on this source, more energy fills me from all that surrounds—the wind outside, the earth beneath the house, the running water in the river. The drain on my psychic abilities wanes as I draw on the power of nature.
Time loses meaning. Whether the siphoning happens for seconds or hours, I can’t tell. When it ends, I’m conscious—but barely—and my breaths come in deep gasps. Dad’s ashen face comes into focus. “Can you hear me? What happened? Are you okay?”
I wonder how many times he’s repeated those questions. I attempt to open my mouth several times before succeeding. “It wasn’t Seth. It was someone inside the circle. But I don’t know why.”
“Griffin.” West’s breathy voice is barely louder than a whisper. He’s pale, with a sheen of sweat glazing his forehead. “He was pulling into his driveway when you used our energy before, and he missed. Hit a tree. Dented his car.”
Dad’s eyes are wide. “So he used magic to fix it?”
“And apparently more than he had on his own.” I use Dad’s distraction to force myself to standing. I’m shaky but fairly confident I won’t fall. I’m in better shape than any of the psychics, and I have a feeling my witch side is to thank. “West, can you tell where Griffin is?”
He closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath. “His house.”
“Good.” I start toward the front door.
Dad grabs me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I press his fingers from around my wrist. “I have to go talk to him. He can’t do that again.”
He shakes his head. “Do you really think that’s the best idea? You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say, willing myself to believe the words. I raise my chin toward the psychics, all of whom look like they’re in the throes of some serious illness. “You watch over these guys. I have a feeling they’re not going to recover quite as quickly. I’ll be back soon.”
Without allowing him to respond, I head for the front door, grabbing Felix’s car keys as I go.
Chapter Eleven
Griffin’s Mustang is parked in the Holloways’ driveway and I can’t help inspecting it as I pass. There doesn’t appear to be any damage to it, but is it my imagination, or does it look shinier than the last time I saw it?
I try the doorknob without bothering to knock. Not only was my alternate self no stranger to this house, but I don’t want to give Griffin the chance to slam the door in my face. It’s unlocked and I let myself in.
The living room is empty and looking much more like I remember it from my own reality: dirty laundry on the floor, gaming controllers in front of the TV. I can’t help wondering if my alternate self tidied up or if Fox was just more conscientious about picking up because he knew I wouldn’t approve of the mess.
I head for the hallway past the living room, the one that leads to the bedrooms. Fox’s door is open and I avoid looking in as I continue to Griffin’s room. My fingers hesitate on the doorknob. Perhaps I should knock this time. It is, after all, his private space. But as soon as the thought fills my mind, the sensory memory of what he did to me—to everyone—causes it to evaporate. Griffin’s privacy be damned. He certainly didn’t show any concern for the rest of us earlier.
I push open the door, allowing it to bang against the adjacent wall. Griffin jumps, simultaneously turning in his desk chair and closing the screen on his laptop. “The hell, Fox—”
His question dies as his gaze land on me. Something flashes in his eyes—Guilt? Fear?—but before I can identify it, it’s replaced with an icy stare. “Oh. Can I help you?”
I widen my stance, crossing my arms over my chest. “You know why I’m here.”
He rolls his eyes, spinning his chair back to face his computer. “Ah. I see how it’s gonna be. You suck on everyone’s abilities and it’s just fine, but if someone else does it—”
I’m across his room in two strides. Grabbing his shoulder, I turn him to face me. “What I did and what you did were two very different things—let’s just start there. I didn’t mean to draw on everyone’s power—”
“And that makes it okay? Well, then, I didn’t mean to do it, either. Whoops.”
I fight the urge to smack his smug face. “My dad asked the psychics to try to locate Seth. I got attacked, and I was trying to block it—to keep us all safe.”
“Not so safe when I smashed my car.”
“It was an accident. This being bound thing is new to me, too, you know.”
He heaves a sigh. “I won’t do it again—is that what you want to hear? Unless I’m in mortal peril, I won’t draw on anyone else’s energy.” He holds up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
I snort. “Yeah, I believe that.”
“What the hell are you so pissed about, anyway? You’re fine. It’s not like I hurt you. I just used some of your powers.”
“I’m only okay because I’m part witch. I was able to draw on energy from outside myself. The psychics are weak, and it’s probably going to take hours for them to recover. Their power is all internal. You’re not siphoning energy through them, like you are the witches. You’re draining them like batteries.”
“Let’s add that to the list of reasons I’m glad I
’m not a psychic. Are we done here?” Without waiting for a reply, he turns back toward his desk.
“No, we’re not. I’m not leaving until I’m sure you’re not gonna try anything like that again.” I grab his shoulder and attempt to spin him again, but he resists. He grabs my hand, squeezing it until I release him. Without thinking, I reach out with my abilities, forcing him to face me without having to touch him.
His eyes blaze when they lock on mine and he stands, his body inches away from mine. He’s not as tall as his younger brother, but his height is still impressive compared to mine. “Is this really how you want this to go down? You’re not with Fox anymore, so I don’t have to pretend to like you.”
An invisible force wraps itself around me like a blanket, holding me in place. I want to back away, to shrink under the intensity of his gaze, but I’m frozen.
“And no matter how much your daddy or those little psychics try to convince me otherwise, I know if it wasn’t for you, Zane would still be alive.” His eyes narrow. “You know it, too. I can see your guilt. There’s no use trying to hide it.” He latches onto my abilities, drawing them to him. I try to resist, but I’m too weak. “The way I see it, lately you’ve been causing more harm than any of the rest of us. Maybe you shouldn’t have power anymore.”
My knees turn to jelly, much too wobbly to support my weight, yet I don’t fall. Griffin’s hold on me is too strong. I stand, helpless, as he claims my abilities as his own. Unlike last time, I can’t change the source from which he draws. He’s not siphoning my magic, but my psychic power.
A glimmer asserts itself at the edge of my consciousness. Something’s changed. My vision darkens; all I can see now are Griffin’s eyes, which flick away from mine momentarily. His hold on me ebbs for an instant and I crumple to the floor like a marionette whose strings have been cut.
“Griffin, what are you doing?”
The voice is familiar. I should know it. I long to roll so I can see what’s happening above me, but my body refuses to cooperate.
“Mind your own business, little brother.”
Fox. Of course it’s Fox. He’s the glimmer I sensed. His strong hands find my shoulders, my face. I try to open my eyes, but the lids are so heavy.
“This isn’t like being anchored to the crystal. You can’t just take more magic whenever you want. Now you’re tied to people, Griffin. People who saved your stupid life.”
“Back off, Fox. This isn’t about you. It’s between me and Krissa. Grow a pair already, why don’t you? She doesn’t want you anymore. Stop trying to be her knight.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Fox murmurs. His voice is farther away now. He’s standing. “Just leave her alone.”
“Or what?”
There’s a buildup—a charge like electricity. I barely register it before it explodes out. It’s not directed at me, rather Fox and Griffin are focusing their magic on each other. There are several thumps followed by a crash. I still can’t open my eyes, can’t see what’s happening, but their use of magic thrums through the edge of my awareness.
Something impacts my side—something firm, but soft. The mattress? Just how much damage are these two causing? They grunt with effort as the noise in the room reaches a fever pitch.
“What the hell is going on in here?”
A new voice cuts above the din and a split second later, the room rings with silence. With effort, my eyelids flutter open. Everything is in shambles, with paper, pillows, clothes, and other debris scattered everywhere. Fox and Griffin are flushed, their hair wild. Fox is bleeding from the nose and Griffin has a gash above his left eyebrow.
A man stands in the doorway, eyes wide and furious. Stormy gray eyes. Fox’s eyes. His hair is a shade of brown just darker than Griffin’s and lighter than Fox’s. This man has to be their father.
Griffin and Fox exchange glances, each prompting the other with his eyes to speak. Finally, Fox takes in a deep breath. “Dad, let me explain. This might be hard for you to understand, but—”
“But you’re destroying my house with magic. Yeah, I got it.”
Fox’s jaw drops.
Griffin’s mouth opens and closes twice before he manages to speak. “You… You know about magic?”
“Don’t be stupid,” he snaps. “Your mother didn’t keep secrets from me. I knew the day each of you were born there was a chance you’d be witches like her. Like your mom. She gave it all up, though—after the fire at Crystal Taylor’s house. Said Crystal got obsessed and it was scary. She never wanted to be like that. But I guess you and your friends couldn’t leave well enough alone. And now you’ve put the whole town in danger.”
I press myself into a sitting position, gears turning in my mind. Fox’s mom was part of Crystal Taylor’s circle? Ruby’s last name is Riddell—I knew there was a reason it sounded familiar. Sarah Riddell must have been their mother. “You’re part of the elder council, aren’t you? The one who couldn’t be at the school this morning.”
Mr. Holloway’s eyes flick to me for the first time. His gaze sweeps over me—paternal instinct, no doubt, causing him to check if I’m all right. “I would’ve been there except I wasn’t feeling well. Having a spell take you over and make you drive a semi for thirty straight hours will do that to you, I suppose.” His eyes narrow as they settle back on his sons. “For the moment, I can’t change what you are, but I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told your mom: There’s no magic in this house. If you can’t live with that, leave.” He stares at them a moment longer, daring them to argue. “Your mom learned a long time ago that magic can bring out the worst in people. I won’t have it bring out the worst in my sons.” He spares a final glance in my direction before pivoting and disappearing down the hall.
The three of us stare at each other for a long minute before I struggle to my feet. The air in the room is oppressive; I want to go home.
But mostly, I don’t want to have to reflect on how Mr. Holloway might be right.
I’m halfway down the hall when Fox catches up with me. He doesn’t have to say anything or even touch me—I know it’s him. Our link through the binding spell pulses, the band of energy tying us together tugging at me.
“He won’t do it again—I’ll make sure of it.” Fox’s voice is low, nearly a whisper. But a promise isn’t why he stopped me. I’d be able to tell that even without the link. When I turn, he nods toward his bedroom door. “Can we talk a minute?”
Wordlessly, I follow him. As I settle on the edge of his mattress, he closes the door. He studies me for a long moment before releasing a breath and running a hand through his dark hair. “I know this isn’t the best time to bring this up, but I’m beginning to think there never will be.”
I press my lips together. I can’t pretend I haven’t been waiting for this. I pat the empty space beside me. “You want to talk about Owen.”
He stiffens at the name. “When I first noticed you together, I promised myself I’d stay out of it. I mean, I get where we are right now. We’re broken up. But with this binding spell… I can’t ignore it. There’s this… connection between you two. At first I thought it was just the spell, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”
I rub my palms against my thighs. How am I supposed to explain? I know what Felix would say: Just tell him about the alternate timeline. But that explanation only leads to more questions, and each answer will lead to one conclusion—I’m responsible for the mess we’re in now. If it weren’t for me, Zane would still be alive. Griffin already blames me. Hell, I blame myself. But I don’t know if I could handle Fox holding me responsible. I don’t know how I’d react if I saw in his eyes the hatred I see in Griffin’s. Instead, I lie.
“You know he and I have a history,” I begin carefully. I don’t know all the details of the life my alternate self lived, but I’ve been able to piece together bits from an old journal and from what Felix has told me. I can only hope it’s enough. “He hated me for a long time for what I did to him—and he had every right to. But in
the last couple of weeks, we’ve spent more time together. We were working on a project in health and… I was able to convince him how sorry I was. He finally forgave me. At first it was just so we could work together, but then, when his psychic abilities started manifesting… things changed.”
He snorts softly. “I’ll say.”
“I’m sorry, Fox. I know it isn’t what you want to hear, but…” I squeeze my eyes closed, walling myself off from him as best as I can. “I don’t want to lie to you.” And it’s true—even if I’m doing it. “If it makes you feel any better, none of this is easy for me.”
“I’m sure it isn’t.”
He’s not nearly as good at blocking himself off as I am and I sense the undercurrent beneath his words: It must be hard for me to start this new relationship with Owen when I’m literally connected to my ex. Of course, it’s not what I mean at all. But is it fair to tell him the truth, that I’ve grown to care for him more than I ever thought possible? Or would that just hurt him more?
I could comfort him, tell him just how twisted up my emotions are, that they would be regardless of the binding spell. But I can’t. What if me saying that gives him a false hope, makes him a promise I can’t keep? There will be a time to sort out how I feel for Owen and Fox, but now isn’t it. If recent events are any indication, I shouldn’t be allowed to make any decisions at all.
I give his hand a quick squeeze and stand. When I get to the door, I glance at him, but he’s staring at the floor. I don’t like leaving him this way, but it’s for the best. I don’t want to hurt him any more than I already have.
Chapter Twelve
Wednesday morning, I dress in the same outfit I wore to Jodi’s friend Millie’s funeral. It feels like the last few months have been nothing but a string of funerals—my mom’s and Shelly Tanner’s in my old reality, then Millie’s and Crystal Taylor’s in this one. Now I’m going to Zane’s. Will there ever be a time when my life isn’t plagued by death?
I do my best to ignore the worried look in my mom’s eyes as we eat breakfast in silence, but her emotions are harder to tune out. She’s scared for my safety—my life. When she first learned about my abilities, she took it as well as could be expected—better, even. Before he left, Dad mentioned to her that there was something special about me, so when the truth finally came out, she accepted it—and me—without hesitation. But now I’m facing a level of danger she hadn’t anticipated. The fact that Zane—a boy my age—is dead because of magic is giving her nightmares.
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