“Do you two understand that even if we do agree to this,” Jane said, “it won’t really bring Shayna back? It would just bring her spirit back from wherever you banished it.”
“We know that,” Jodi said with a nod. “We’d never ask you to do more than that. It wouldn’t be Shayna anyway.”
“Well that’s good,” Sherry said, and I realized they were saying preplanned things to help persuade some of the others.
“Is it possible that Shay just moved on? You know, went into the Light or something?” one of the younger witches asked.
“It is,” Deb agreed with a nod.
“If Shay was going to move on, she would’ve done it right away, right after,” Jodi paused and finally said, “right after the fire.”
“Right,” Steven said, picking up the argument. “But she chose to stay. My stupidity sent her off. She was trying to contact me, and I banished her. I have to bring her back.”
“It wasn’t stupid,” Jodi whispered to him, squeezing his shoulder.
“Look, every day that Shayna is gone, Jodi and I fade more and more. It’s not just our powers,” he said. “We aren’t ourselves without those powers. We can feel it in our bones, in our blood: something isn’t right. If we don’t get her back…” He let his words trail off, left them hanging unfinished in the air for the women to make of them what they would.
I thought about the shadow I saw lingering over them at my memorial. Because I couldn’t see it through the looking glass I had almost completely forgotten about it. Just like Jodi said, it was like a heart attack; sometimes you would recover and sometimes not. I clutched the looking glass, wishing I could send my will through the glass and force the coven to help my friends even if they weren’t willing to help me.
“All right,” Deb said with a sigh, “we’ve heard what you had to say; now we must discuss it.”
“Steven, Jodi,” Jane said, coming close to the table and holding out her hand for them, “will you come with me?”
“Wait, we have to leave?” Steven asked, his eyebrows shooting up again.
“Yes, this is a family matter. No outsiders may be present,” Jessica said, cocking her hip out to the side and arching one perfectly plucked brow as if she was daring them to argue. I saw the muscle in Jodi’s jaw jump as she gritted her teeth, holding back the reply just itching to be let loose.
“But, I mean,” Steven stuttered. Jodi stood up, stepping around the bench seat and taking Steven’s hand, stopping him from arguing further.
“Just c’mon, Steven,” she said softly. “Like Deb said, we’ve had our say.” Steven looked up at her and then turned his wounded eyes on the rest of the room, looking for a face in the crowd to whom he could offer up another plea. Only Sherry and Jane returned his pained look. Finally, his shoulders dropping, Steven stood and followed Jane out of the kitchen, hand in hand with Jodi.
Jane led them into the family room where a large, flat screen TV was suspended on one wall with a crescent shaped couch in the middle of the floor. Bookshelves were piled with DVDs, video games, and board games, all spilling out onto the floor with some of Trisity’s toys. It was far enough away from the kitchen to keep the coven from being overheard. With a few words of encouragement, Jane left, closing the door behind her.
The women took so long to vote that Steven and Jodi fell asleep on the couch, leaning against each other. When Jane came back, Sherry was with her. I was a little surprised; I figured no matter how the vote went, Deb would come tell them. I knew Deb didn’t agree with what we wanted, afraid it would just get Steven and Jodi’s hopes up and do more damage than good, but she’d been like a second mother to us. Shouldn’t she have come to give us the news?
When Jane and Sherry stood back, watching the two sleeping on the couch and hesitating to wake them, I knew they had voted against helping us. I wasn’t surprised, really. I think part of me always knew they would say no, but I couldn’t help hoping I’d be wrong. Jane eventually woke them with a gentle hand on each of their shoulders. I couldn’t hear what Jane said over the rush of blood in my ears, but I knew I was right by the look of betrayal on Steven’s face. Jodi just nodded, as if she hadn’t expected anything else.
Jodi waved off Jane and Sherry’s words of condolence and encouragement. She took Steven by the arm and guided him to the door. Deb waited for them on the front porch when they stepped out, but Jodi refused to meet her eye or even stop to let her speak. Continuing resolutely forward, Jodi all but dragged Steven down the front steps and to the car, giving him only the chance to let Deb see the betrayal and pain on his face, the tears on his cheeks. She had always been there for us and tonight, when we needed her help the most, she’d turned her back on us.
Jodi got Steven into the passenger seat before getting into the driver’s, taking the keys from Steven and gunning the engine to life. The image in the looking glass began to fade as she spun them around and took off, disappearing into the trees that lined Jane’s long, winding driveway. The last thing I saw was Deb’s face and the smudged mascara under her eyes as she wiped the tears away.
***
I fell asleep holding onto the looking glass. At some point, I had slumped to the ground, curling around the looking glass and crying until I passed out. When I woke, my shoulder ached and dirt had caked to my cheek in the tracks left by my tears. Jacob was already up and moving when I pushed myself up to sit. He stirred the embers back to life, adding some dried leaves and twigs to fuel it, our two cups full of water on the ground beside him.
“Not much, but tea helps,” he said, giving no indication he’d realized I had woken and sat up. I thought about all of the tea cups being passed around back home and smirked, shaking my head.
“Yeah,” I said, scrubbing my cheek with the back of my hand. “Not much.” I stood and walked over to Fearghus, putting the looking glass in his saddle bag before walking over to the edge of the river and crouching down. The water was cold and shocking, but it went a long way toward waking me up as I splashed it on my face, washing away the dirt and grit.
My braid was long past repair, so I sat on the slope of the riverbank, pulled the ribbon from the end of my hair, and began to pick apart the braid. It was slow going and my fingers were stiff with cold, but after a while, I managed to get the braid undone, however tangled my hair still was. I pulled Jacob’s jacket off, crawled toward the edge of the water, and dunked my head under. I got my hair soaking wet and started running my fingers through it to work out the knots since I didn’t have a comb or brush.
When I could run my fingers through the length without them getting caught, I whipped my head back, tossing my hair in a wet arc to land against my back with a slap. I shivered as my shirt became soaked and stuck to my back. I gathered the length of my hair in my hands and wrung out the excess water, letting it drip into a puddle at my feet. I managed to put a simple French braid in my hair starting at the base of my neck until the ends were too thin to continue and retied it with Gwyn’s black ribbon. It was nothing like the elaborate masterpiece Gwyn had done for me, but it would keep my hair out of my face and that was enough. I picked at the shoulders of my shirt and pulled it away from my back, shaking it, trying to get it to dry, but it was a vain attempt. When I snatched up the discarded jacket and started back up the slope, the sight of Jacob’s boots stopped me, making me look up.
“Tea?” he offered, holding out one of the two steaming cups. I could smell mint wafting up in the white tendrils of steam.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, reaching out to take the cup. The heat of the cup was almost too much for my stiff, cold fingers, but I held on until they warmed and the joints loosened. I followed Jacob to the fire. He’d already started us something to eat, roasting the few vegetables we had left and the two leftover legs of the rabbit animals Balor had caught on a flat stone close to the fire like a makeshift skillet.
I was content to eat in silence, but as I bit into the charred bit of meat, Jacob cleared his throat, looking at me over the r
im of his cup.
“Yes?” I prompted, though I had thought of just keeping my mouth shut to make him start the conversation.
“Had a bad night last night?” he asked after he stopped staring at me and finally took a sip of his cooling tea.
“No worse than any other night here,” I replied with a one shoulder shrug.
“Seemed like last night was a might bit harder,” he pressed. I refused to meet his eyes, chewing on one of the root vegetables, telling myself it was a lovely roasted carrot. I thought, after he was quiet for so long, that he was going to let the subject drop, but then he cleared his throat again. I took a breath to steel my nerves, closing my eyes and counting to ten.
“You know, I came on this,” he searched for the right word, “this quest with you, risking life and limb to help you. The least you could do is be honest with me.”
“Okay, first of all,” I said, “you can’t be risking life if you’re dead. Secondly, you didn’t come to help me; you came to help yourself. If you think you’ve made a mistake, then I’m sorry, but you’re free to go.” I gestured to the forest at large, flinging my hand in the air.
“No need to be sarcastic,” Jacob shot back. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s perfectly possible to feel pain here.”
“I know that.”
“So there is some risk.”
“But you can’t die here.” I didn’t know why I was clinging to that argument, but I was. He’d made me feel attacked, like I’d tricked him into coming with me, so I couldn’t help but correct him.
“Fine,” he nearly yelled. “I can’t die, but I am more at risk out here alone with you, and since I came to help you, if you’re going to ditch me, then I have a right to know.”
“You keep saying that,” I said, “but you didn’t come to help me, damn it! You wanted to find the edge every bit as much as I did because you want out of here too. So don’t put that shit on me!”
“You asked me to come!” He did yell then, and in the distance, I heard a flock of tiny birds erupt from the treetops and take flight.
“I did not! I offered to let you come!” At my yell, Balor bounded back to camp, bursting through the tree line, with his lips pulled back over his teeth in an angry, snapping snarl. He spun in the dirt in front of me, a swirl of brown lifting from the ground as he faced Jacob, a low, warning growl rumbling from deep in his chest.
“Hey,” he said, putting his hands out in front of him to warn the dog off. “Easy, boy, I wasn’t doing anything to her. Shayna, a little help if you will?”
“Balor, down,” I said, placing my hand carefully on his back, not too close to his head, afraid I’d startle him. Balor whined, whipping his head around to me and then back to Jacob with another growl. “It’s okay,” I said softly, running my hand over his back, petting him slowly, trying to get his hackles down.
“All right, we can agree to disagree about all that,” Jacob said, keeping his hands up and his eyes on Balor, terrified to look away.
“There is nothing to agree to disagree on; you’re wrong, I’m right,” I said, voice not matching my words as I tried to keep it light, trying to soothe Balor.
“Be that as it may,” Jacob said through gritted teeth, “I still have a right to know if you’re going to ditch me.”
“Why do you think I’m going to ditch you?” I asked, buying time.
“Don’t do that,” Jacob said, taking his eyes off Balor for a moment to pin me with his stare.
“I’m not planning on ditching you,” I said with a sigh, leaning into Balor’s side. That movement calmed Balor more than all my petting. He whined again but then sat back on his haunches, putting his shoulder a little higher than mine, and turned his head toward me. When Balor’s gaze was broken, Jacob sighed in relief, letting his hands and shoulders fall.
“Not planning it,” he pressed.
I closed my eyes and turned my face into Balor’s fur, breathing in his musky scent of earth and warmth. “No, not planning it.” My voice was muffled against Balor. “But it might happen. I didn’t want to say anything because I knew I couldn’t do anything about it, and I figured if I told you, you would ditch me first.”
“That’s a very adult way of thinking,” Jacob said, but without enough heat to his voice, which actually made the words sting more.
“I know,” I agreed, wrapping my arms around Balor. I clung to my furry friend, feeling the sting of tears behind my eyelids. “I’m sorry.”
“So your friends might get you out of here?” he asked.
“They might,” I answered without looking at him.
“That’s why you’ve been clinging to that looking glass every night?”
I glanced up at him then, surprised he knew that. I’d been careful to only pull it out once I knew he was asleep. When he held my stare, I began to wilt and finally just nodded in answer. Obviously I hadn’t been as careful as I had thought.
I pulled away from Balor to straighten up and look him straight in the eye like an adult. “Look, I’m sorry I kept that from you, but I figured there was a chance we could find the edge together before my friends got me out of here, and then we could both leave. I mean, there’s a real possibility that my friends won’t get me out of here, so I figured we should just keep going.”
“Just how are your friends supposed to get you out of here?” Jacob asked, tilting his head to the side slightly. “You never said there was another way out.”
“Oh, right.” I dropped my eyes and scuffed the toe of my boot in the dirt. I had only told Jacob about finding the edge, not about the second possibility of being summoned. Remembering my intent to meet his gaze like an adult, I placed the heel of my boot on the ground and lifted my chin.
“Supposedly if someone from over there,” I nodded to the side as if our world was just to the right of us, “summons you from here, they can just pull you out.”
“I see,” Jacob replied, straightening his head but not breaking my gaze. “And let me guess, our dear old friend Gwyn told you this?” At my nod, he continued, “Right, and of course you’d have no reason not to believe him.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, come now, Shayna,” Jacob said as though he was talking to a simple-minded child. “Gwyn told you about the edge too, and we’ve been looking for that damn thing for days. And where are we?” he demanded, flinging his arms out to the side and turning on the spot, looking around. There was no need for me to look, but I couldn’t help glancing around. This spot on the river by the woods was no different than any other spot where we’d stopped these last few nights. The moon still hung in the air, always just over my left shoulder, always only a quarter full. For all I knew, we really were just going in circles and we had camped in this same spot every single time we’d stopped. Hell, it was very possible that there were no “nights,” that we were just in some infinite loop of time, always the same night/day or whatever.
“I told you I didn’t understand the magic of this place,” I said, my voice sounding like I was apologizing, though for what I had no idea.
“There is no magic to this place, Shayna,” Jacob said, turning to face me and dropping his arms to his sides. His blue eyes were haunted and full of sadness. I realized then that maybe he had come with me on this wild chase just so I wouldn’t be alone, not because he really expected to get anywhere.
A memory niggled at the back of my mind, nearly two years ago now, of Steven’s baby cousin being haunted by a poltergeist. I had written the banishing spell and tried to give it to Steven to perform himself, but he’d refused. He said that his family wouldn’t believe he could do it, so in effect, he actually couldn’t do it. That was how magic was sometimes: all it took was faith for it to work, and if you didn’t have faith, then it didn’t work. I wondered if Jacob’s resolute disbelief in the existence of the edge kept us here, running in circles.
“There is magic, if you believe it,” I said quietly, not really sure if I spoke to him or to myself.
; “We’re not in some goddamn Disney movie, Shayna,” Jacob said with some real heat to his voice. Then I knew I was right; Jacob had no faith whatsoever, and he was keeping me here.
“No,” I said, “more like a Tim Burton flick.” A ridiculous, hysterical laugh burst out of me. Jacob furrowed his dark brows at me, squinting a bit, as if he was staring at a crazy person. Maybe he was. I managed to get myself under control and waved a hand in the air as if I could erase that last outburst.
“This isn’t funny, Shayna,” Jacob said, placing his hands on his hips.
“I know that,” I said, taking a deep breath and blowing it out. “Look, that’s how magic works, okay? Just like Peter Pan with the happy thoughts and flying, just like Dorothy and her ruby shoes to go home, it’s all just faith and belief. If you don’t have either, then it doesn’t work.”
“You believe in magic?” Jacob blinked at me.
“Believe in it, practice it, live it, am it,” I said, nodding, not caring about the increasingly worried look on his face. “I told you my friend accidentally banished me here. That’s because we, me and my two best friends, could do magic, all kinds of magic. I could control the Earth, make earthquakes with my temper, and make flowers grow with just a touch of my fingertips; I could feel other people’s emotions, feed on them, and change them at will; and I could write spells that summoned angels and pure power. My two best friends were pure power and magic. Jodi could control Air so well that she could breathe underwater and summon faeries with her voice, and Steven? Steven could start a fire with the snap of his fingertips and he could look into the sun for days and never go blind. Yes, I believe in magic, Jacob, every little bit of it.”
Spirit Page 18