To my surprise, Bridget nods. “I can sense exactly what went wrong. I was off on the amounts. We just need a bit more of one of the herbs and it should do it.”
“That’s great,” Fox says. “Mix it up. We’ll do the spell again and—”
“It’s not that easy.” Bridget stands, wiping her palms on her jeans. “I can mix up the elements right now, sure—we’ve got them. But everything needs to charge at least overnight. We can’t do the spell again until tomorrow at the earliest.”
Owen edges forward. “But tomorrow’s the full moon. The elder council—”
“You think I don’t know that? Look, I’m open to suggestions, but I’m telling you what I know about this spell. There’s no way we’ll be ready to do it again before tomorrow.”
“And what happens if it doesn’t work tomorrow?” Felix’s tone is gentle, not accusatory.
Bridget doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to. If the spell doesn’t work tomorrow, it’ll be too late—the elder council will unbind our circle and disperse our abilities back into nature. We won’t have another chance to try this. And, again, if Anya’s right, the council won’t succeed in defeating Seth. Where will that leave us?
“Maybe we can get the council to delay the spell,” West suggests. “Griffin, aren’t your grandma and your dad on the council? Maybe they’ll listen to you. If you can convince even one of them—”
Griffin shakes his head. “You don’t understand. Whatever spell turned them into the elder council changed them. I mean, in a lot of ways they’re the same, but when it’s anything about magic or Seth, it’s like they’re brainwashed. It’s their plan and only their plan.”
“We still have to try,” I insist. “If we can make them push back the unbinding just one more month—”
“I have to agree with Griffin,” Fox says, his voice low. “I’ve talked with Dana a little—asked her if they have a backup plan in case something goes wrong. She totally dismissed it, like it wasn’t even a possibility. I think as far as the council’s concerned, they can’t fail. And I doubt they’ll even begin to entertain the idea of waiting another month.”
I close my eyes, taking in a breath. “I guess we’ll just have to hope the spell works tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“I am going to lose my mind if I have to stay cooped up in here much longer,” I announce late Thursday morning as I flop down on the red chaise lounge in the sitting room. I’ve spent the last hour trying—and failing—to lose myself in the movie West brought over to watch, but my mind keeps wandering to the greenhouse where Bridget is keeping vigil over the newest incarnation of the vessel spell. I spent some time in there with her earlier, but she complained I was breathing too loud and moving too much.
Felix and Lexie look up from their spots on the overstuffed couch. Lexie has her tablet on her lap and the two of them had their eyes on the screen, but I don’t bother asking what they were doing. I doubt it would distract me anyway.
“Why don’t you take off?” Felix asks. “Your dad doesn’t have you shackled here, does he?”
“No,” I admit. Just leaving is the obvious answer, of course, but it’s easier said than done. Where would I go? I can’t very well just wander aimlessly around town. Besides, if I go alone, it’s likely I’ll just end up taking my concerns along with me. “You guys wanna go somewhere?”
“No can do,” Lexie says. “My mom works downtown, and she’s constantly popping in and out of places. Too big a risk she’d see me and lose it because I’m not at school.”
I flash a grin at Felix. “How about you?”
He nods toward Lexie. “Solidarity.”
I stick out my tongue. “Neither of you are helping.”
“I’ll head out if you want some company.” Owen is leaning against the doorjamb between the sitting room and the hall.
“Sure.” I spring off the chaise lounge and cross to him. I know things between us aren’t the way he wants them, but they’re the way I need them to be right now. I need my friend Owen right now, and I appreciate that’s who he’s trying to be.
I poke my head in to the dining room on my way to the front door to tell my mom and dad I’m going out. Dad agrees to let me go only when I assure him I won’t be alone and that Owen and I will be back in plenty of time for the vessel spell.
When we get into the car, Owen flips on the radio and pulls away from the curb. I don’t ask where we’re going. It doesn’t really matter, so long as it takes my mind off the full moon and Seth and the council. Otherwise I’m not sure how I’m going to make it through the afternoon.
I recognize our destination as soon as Owen pulls into the parking lot. It’s the diner two blocks from Jodi’s shop, the same one he and I once met at to discuss a vision he’d had before he knew he was psychic.
The sign by the door invites us to seat ourselves and Owen leads the way to a booth in the corner. I take the far side and survey the patrons. A family of four sits in a booth along the far wall. The daughter, with her tightly-wound auburn curls, can’t be older than three, and the baby is still in a car seat. The parents alternately chat with one another and play with the girl or reach out to stroke the baby’s face. An older man in a camouflage baseball cap sits two booths from them, reading a newspaper while sipping from his coffee mug. In the middle of the restaurant, a group of women in their sixties have pushed together three square tables to accommodate their number. Between bites of their meals, they talk and laugh.
What will happen to these people if the spell doesn’t work tonight? The barrier around the town will keep its inhabitants safe from Seth in the short term, but how long will it take before he finds a way through? If the council manages to wipe my memories of magic, how hard will it be for Seth to get a hold of a sample of my blood? With that, he can grant himself access to Clearwater. Or, there’s always the alternative: tracking down and killing the spell’s casters. And once he’s here, what will his next steps be? Will he be kind, using his psychic abilities to persuade everyone to move away? Or will he continue exacting revenge on the descendants of those he perceive wronged him in his day?
I shake my head in an attempt to dispel the thoughts. It won’t do any good to dwell on what ifs.
“It’s crazy to think how different things’ll be tomorrow,” Owen says. “One way or another.”
I offer a humorless smile. “Really? What happens tomorrow?” I ask sarcastically.
Owen sighs. “I know—it’s the last thing you want to talk about.”
Our waitress bustles over. She’s of a stocky build with thin dark hair pulled back into a bun. Her smile is broad and genuine when she greets us and asks us what we’d like to drink. After we place our beverage orders, I stare blankly at the menu before me. I should eat, chat with Owen about something lighthearted and silly, but now that I’m out of the house, I realize the house wasn’t the problem: My mind is still too full of worry about Seth.
I catch a glimpse of our waitress coming back with our drinks and pick the first thing off the menu that looks remotely appealing. When she leaves again to put our food orders in, Owen is watching me intently.
Heat rises in my cheeks. “What?”
“Just thinking how different being out like this would feel if this were happening tomorrow. You know, after he’s gone.” He offers a brief half smile.
I cling to his optimism. I want to believe that this time tomorrow things will be somewhat back to normal, that we won’t have a threat against us and the town looming over our heads. “Let’s plan to be here again tomorrow to find out.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “It’s a date.”
While I’m sure he meant it as a harmless statement, there’s a slight rise in his voice that gives him away. Although I’m not trying to read him, something in the wall he keeps around his thoughts and emotions cracks. When he left my house the night of our first kiss, I promised I wouldn’t change my mind about him, about us. But so much else has changed, so many things neither
of us could have anticipated that night. Will it really be so simple to just pick up where we left off? Can anything really be that easy?
I reach across the table, laying my hand, palm up, in the center. Relief washes over Owen’s features as he places his hand on mine.
I sense a tremor through the link forged by the binding spell. For a split second, I assume it’s coming from Owen—but then the door to the diner opens.
Fox.
I haven’t seen him since last night when he left the house after the spell failed. My fingers twitch against Owen’s, but I don’t pull away. Although he doesn’t turn, Owen stiffens when he senses Fox’s presence. His jaw tightens but he says nothing.
Fox’s gaze sweeps around the dining room, but he’s not looking for us. His eyes go to the door, to the person entering.
Dana Crawford straightens her hair as she walks through the door. She crosses quickly to Fox’s side and points at a table just past the group of older women. When they sit, it’s not across from each other but on adjacent sides. Dana shrugs out of her coat before reaching over and helping Fox out of his.
Owen pulls his hand from mine, leaving my skin cold in its absence. “I don’t get you,” he murmurs.
I tear my eyes from the scene unfolding before me just as Fox, seemingly oblivious to our presence, reaches forward to tuck a lock of hair behind Dana’s ear. “What do you mean?”
He huffs. “You know exactly what I mean. Why do you care that Fox is here with Dana?”
I cross my arms over my chest, not liking the accusation in his voice. “You should care, too. She’s part of the elder council. What if she’s trying to get information out of him? The council knows we have a plan, and clearly today is the last day we could act on it.”
Shaking his head, Owen snorts. “It doesn’t take a binding spell to know that’s not what’s bothering you. I know things were crazy when you first got plopped in this reality. I’ve tried to be understanding and let you sort things out, but the fact of the matter is Fox was never your boyfriend. He was hers. And now he knows you’re not her, so there’s no reason to concern yourself with hurting him. He’s moved on—clearly.”
Dana’s laugh tinkles through the diner and I fight to keep my eyes trained on Owen. Is he right? Are Fox and Dana together now? Maybe it makes sense. After all, Dana is the one who told Fox the truth about me. That probably earned his trust. And it can only be a good thing that he isn’t holding out hope that I’ll spontaneously return to being the girl he loved.
I take in a breath and release it slowly before extending my hand across the table again. “It’s good he’s moving on. Despite whether you think I should or not, I do care about him—as a friend.” I smile, studying Owen’s face. “Which is different than the way I care about you.”
The tension drains from his features and he reaches for my hand. “That’s good to hear.”
Our waitress returns then with our meals. It gets tricky eating with one hand, but somehow, Owen and I both manage.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Pacing isn’t going to help,” Bria grumbles as I make my way back across the hallway from the dining room.
I don’t pause until I reach the couch she’s seated on. “Maybe not. But it makes me feel better—like I’m actually doing something.”
“Well, it’s making me crazy, so stop.”
Owen pats the empty spot beside him on the other couch and I collapse into it. When he threads his fingers through mine, Bria’s eyebrow quirks up, but I ignore it.
Bridget said the elements would be ready for us to cast the vessel spell at six o’clock. It’s now quarter to seven. I’m not the only one who’s feeling anxious: The energy throughout the whole house is laden with it. Dad and Anya are in the greenhouse with Bridget, barring anyone else from entering until everything is ready. In addition to Bria, Owen, and me, Lexie and Felix are also in the living room. Tucker sits at the dining room table, systematically devouring the chocolate chip cookies my mom baked this afternoon. If he continues at this rate, he’ll have them all gone within half an hour, but that would probably suit my mom just fine: She’s a stress baker. She’s in the kitchen now, probably working on a cake or pie. Griffin, West, Crystal, and Fox are in the sitting room.
“If things aren’t ready soon, it won’t matter if the spell works or not because the council will disperse our abilities before we get a chance to cast it,” I say. We all assume the council won’t begin its work until the moon is at its apex, but there’s no way of knowing for sure.
Owen squeezes my hand. “It’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”
I offer a weak smile. As much as I want to believe him, I can’t help expecting the worst. That’s why I took some time to myself when we got back from the diner. I pulled out the journal my alternate self kept and wrote an entry I hope I’ll never have to read. I did my best to explain everything about psychics and witches, about my connection to Owen and my friendship with Felix, and about why I might not remember any of these things. I put it in the center of my desk and even put a sticky note on top to remind myself to read the entry.
But if the council really does remove our memories of our abilities, will a crazy-sounding journal entry really make a difference?
I sit until I can take it no longer, but no sooner do I take to my feet to pace some more than Dad’s voice floats down the hall. “It’s time.”
The others spring up quickly. Wordlessly, we start for the greenhouse. Owen walks a half step behind me, his touch feather-light on the small of my back. When we pass the sitting room, Fox barely glances at us as he waits with the others to fall in line behind our group. His non-reaction is actually a positive thing: At the very least, he doesn’t seem hurt. Still, I can’t quite suppress a wave of something like disappointment that he doesn’t appear to care.
When we file into the greenhouse, we take up the same spots we were in last night. As Bridget joins us and links her energy with ours, I cross my fingers that this time the spell will be successful. I tamp down any lingering doubts and fill my mind with positivity. This will work. It has to.
Bridget takes up the chant to begin the spell. The energy surging through the circle is similar to last night, but there’s an edge to it that wasn’t present before. Something’s different tonight, and I choose to believe it’s because this time everything will work.
Flames shoot out of the bowl, just like last night, and leave behind a pungent smoke. But unless I’m imagining things, the blue color emanating from the ring is brighter, richer this time.
When she’s done with the incantation, Bridget loses no time crossing to the center of the circle to retrieve the talisman. Her fingers curl around it and for several seconds, her face is blank, unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile breaks as she scans the circle.
“It worked.”
These are the words we’ve all been waiting for. Without needing to discuss anything, we all spring into action. Everyone heads toward the front door, picking up their coats before heading outside to the twelve-passenger van Anya convinced a local church to let us borrow.
When I get to the kitchen, I veer in. My mom is in full-on baking mode, complete with apron and a smear of flour on her cheek. Her face tightens when she sees me and she blinks rapidly.
I hitch a smile on my face that exudes more confidence than I feel. “Making a victory cake?”
Her mouth twitches. “Oh, honey, I hope so.”
I dart forward and hug her tight. “We’ll be fine, Mom. You’ll see. This is why Dad’s been gone—it’s all been leading up to this moment.” I say these things as much to reassure her as myself. I want her to believe them because if she does, I will.
She kisses my forehead. “Then while you’re gone I’ll work on that cake. And I’ll look forward to the day when my biggest concerns for you are curfew and wardrobe choices.”
I take a step away, and this time my smile is genuine. “Deal.”
When I turn to make my way to the front door,
I’m surprised to see my dad standing by the refrigerator. As I step toward the dining room, my parents meet in the middle of the kitchen, and in an instant are wrapped in each other’s arms. I feel weird watching, but I can’t look away. Since Dad’s first night here, I haven’t seen them embrace like this. There have been too many distractions—not least of which is Anya. But in this moment I sense that Mom is willing to look past their years apart and, if not pick up where they left off, at least try to start again.
Before they separate, Dad leans in and presses a tender kiss to her lips. Joy and sadness mingle as the two part and when Dad’s eyes land on me, they’re bright with unshed tears.
By the time we make it to the van, everyone is already seated. I take the spot up front next to Dad and he puts the engine in gear and starts for the town line.
The drive passes in tense silence. After all the waiting, the time is finally here. Suddenly I feel entirely unprepared, but I suppose my part is the easiest. Dad is the one who has the hardest job of the night: He’s the one who will actually take on Seth.
When Dad pulls to a stop at the town line, he glances at me. “Ready?”
I nod. What else am I supposed to do? Still, he waits for me to open the door and get out before he makes a move. The rest of the circle spills out the sliding door after me.
“The spell seems simple enough, based on the instructions Jodi left,” Dad says as we approach the barrier. “Do you need me to walk you through it again?”
“No.” He’s nervous, I can tell. And he has reason to be. Once we cross this line, there’s no turning back. We’re going to see this plan through to the end. And he’s the one with the most dangerous part. Not for the first time, I wish it could be me. Dad says he’s been learning to use magic and psychic abilities for the last five years, but he’s never experienced anything like the combined power of the circle. What if he can’t handle it?
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