by Ainsley Shay
Snow shook her head. “God only knows: curses, monsters, bats. Hell, it could be anything.”
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t that crazy of a question, after all, we were dealing with witches. “I have to take whatever the chances are if Carina left this here for me to find.”
“How would she know you would come here?”
I didn’t have an answer to give her. It was something I just felt. “I don’t know.”
“At least see if the key fits the lock in the book, or if we should be looking for something else.” Her voice never rose above a frantic whisper.
I didn’t need to; I knew it was going to slide in and release the lock. But, I did it anyway. It was a perfect fit. When the locked clicked open, my heart practically leapt into my throat. Snow jumped behind me and let out a startled little choking sound. I slid the key into my pocket and opened the cover. The first page was titled in elegant script, Adelina ~ Journal #1.
13
“Chandler is so going to know you were up to no good.” Snow pulled up to the curb in front of my apartment.
“That’s why you should come in, and then he’ll just think you came over and we’ve been here the whole time.”
“I wish I could, but I can’t. I told my mom I’d be home before five, and it’s already four forty-five.”
I knew I’d already asked a lot from her today. “I get it. Thanks again for taking me.” Shoving the journal in my bag, I got out of the car. Chandler would be back any minute, so I had to hurry, get inside, and look like I had been chilling on the couch for the two hours of freedom I was allowed.
Once inside my apartment, I hid the journal under my mattress. As badly as I wanted to read it, I couldn’t take the chance of Chandler seeing it. That would, for sure, screw up my new deal with him. I technically didn’t see anything wrong with what I did today, aside from the fact I let myself into someone else’s house without permission. Even with that, I was practically invited with not an actual invitation, but an implied one. But, I knew my big brother would see it very differently.
I was on the couch with a magazine in hand within seconds of the front door opening. “Hey.” Chandler eyed me with skepticism. I waved off his glare and concentrated on the article in front of me. The words blurred as I skimmed over them. He went into the kitchen and set a bag on the counter. “I hope that’s dinner, I’m starving,” I said.
Walking the few feet back to the couch, he stood in front of me and crossed his arms over his chest. “You really don’t expect me to believe this,” he waved his arm in front of him, gesturing at me, “that this is what you did for two hours.”
“What? I don’t get to relax, have a little down time? Time for just me.”
“If you wanted down time or to relax, you’d be at the bookshop.”
Crap. He was right. I should have thought this through better. “I can veg wherever I want. And today, I wanted to veg right here.” My heart was pounding. The key, which I forgot to take out of my pocket, dug into the top of my leg. I felt like a parent was reprimanding me. “You’re not my guardian, you know?”
Ignoring me, he asked, “So, where’d you go?”
I should have anticipated this. Kicking myself in the ass for even thinking I’d get away with going to Adelina’s. “Nowhere. Now, would you leave me alone?”
“Maybe, I’ll give Snow a call.” He walked back to the kitchen and started unpacking the bag.
“Why don’t you do that?” Even though I knew Snow wouldn’t, on purpose, break her promise to me, I had a sick feeling Chandler would find a way to get it out of her where we had been. “You know, you should start trusting people.”
“The moment you start trusting others, is the moment you open yourself up to getting screwed.”
“You should have more faith in people.”
“I’ve been around a lot longer than you, so trust me when I say, it’s not worth it.”
I flipped through the magazine without paying attention to anything in front of me. There was a part of me that wanted to tell him I had been to Adelina’s house just to get him to shut up. “Is this how’s it’s going to be every day after my two hour probation?”
“After today, I’m not sure you’re going to get your two hours again.”
That was all it took. I was sick of being under his rule. I threw the magazine at him, grabbed my bag, and went out the front door. It wasn’t until I was down the stairs that I decided to go to the cafe. I ran across the street. Chandler yelled and raced after me. He wasn’t the boss of me. Yeah, he was protecting me, or so he thought, but I wasn’t his prisoner to keep locked away. As I heard his hard footfalls behind me, catching up, I stopped and whirled around. He stopped a few feet away from me. He tried to grab my upper arm, but I yanked it free of his grasp. “Don’t do this. Go back to the apartment, and after I get some tea, calm down, I’ll be home,” I said.
He held up his hands. “Fine.” His face said the opposite. But I didn’t care if he was fine or not.
Dana was wiping down the counter when I walked in. “Iris, how are you. Want your usual?”
“Thanks, but no. I think I’ll just have tea.”
“Having a rough day?”
“You could say that.” I sat down at the table in the back. When I opened my bag, I wished I had kept the journal in there. I hoped Chandler wouldn’t start snooping and find it. My phone dinged as Dana set my tea on the table. I thanked her and pulled my phone from my bag. It was a message from Snow, Chandler just called me. Told him I went home after school and stayed there. I replied with a kissy face emoji. The fragrant lavender tea smelled delicious. How could things have gotten so complicated? The journal plagued my thoughts. Carina must have had that one, #1, in her possession the whole time Blacwin lived at Adelina’s. The first time he’d come into the bookshop, he’d been looking for Adelina’s journals. We had a couple, but they weren’t very helpful for what he wanted to know: how to kill Darenfys.
It was too late now. He was on the other side of the globe, trying to do just that. I put my head in my hands and fought the urge to cry, scream, bang on the table, anything that would release the pain of him leaving. He’ll be back, Chandler had said. But, there was no reason to believe those words. Blacwin was most likely already dead. A sob did break free from me then.
“Hey, you okay?” Dana asked.
I never understood why, when you cried, people always asked you if you were all right. If I was all right, I wouldn’t be crying. And, instead of answering with that logic, I said what people always said when they’re crying, “Yeah, I’m fine.” I stayed there until she closed an hour later.
“Here, take these. They’re blueberry muffins. Still fresh, I promise.” She handed me the bag and turned off the cafe’s lights. We said our goodbyes as she locked up.
Chandler was on the couch when I walked in. “Dinner is in the microwave.”
“I’m not hungry, but thanks.”
“You have to eat.”
“Chandler, right now is not the time to be telling me what I have to do or can’t do.” I set the bag of muffins on the counter. It was still early, but all I wanted to do was read the journal. Since that wasn’t going to be possible, I tossed my bag on the bed and sifted through my drawer for jammies. “I’m going to take a bath.” I got my phone and headphones, and went into the bathroom. Filling the tub with the steaming water, I stripped. Before getting in, I chose “The Cure” from my playlist, plugged in my earphones, and tried to shut off my brain.
When my skin began to wrinkle and the water had cooled, I climbed out and dried off. Chandler was sleeping when I came out and I was grateful for small miracles. I’m surprised he wasn’t knocking down the door when I didn’t come out in ten minutes. I tiptoed past him and went to the kitchen. I eased open the microwave to put whatever he had made for dinner in the fridge, a plate of spaghetti with meatballs. Thoughtful, but I wasn’t in the mood for that. Thinking of the blueberry muffins, my mouth began to water. I poured a
glass of milk and took the bag Dana had given me to my bedroom. Making sure the drapes where in place, and blocked any view into my bedroom, I took the journal out from under the mattress.
The key was still in the pocket of the jeans I threw in the laundry. I got up and as quietly as I could went into the bathroom to dig the key out of the hamper. Remembering the loud click of the journal’s lock, I put the key in the lock and covered it with my pillow to stifle the sound. When the lock clicked open, I pulled out the journal and set the key on my nightstand. I reached in for a piece of muffin and popped it in my mouth. Dana’s mom was the one responsible for the sweet, moist delicious treat. Everything they sold was homemade, and it tasted like it.
The journal lay on my lap. I stared at it while I ate a few more bites of the muffin and drank the milk. As badly as I wanted to know what it said, there was an equal force that knew whatever I read could not be un-read. Carina had left it for me to find and read for a reason. Whatever was written in it had to be worth something. I opened the cover to reveal the title again. Taking a deep breath, I turned the page and started reading.
10 September 1567~
I was born five days ago, not in the sense of being birthed—that was sixteen years ago—five days ago I was created, bewitched. My family has since disowned me. With only the clothes I wore, they left me in the streets to die. I am without food, shelter, or friends. This journal has come to me not as a gift, but by my own means, stealing it from a local shop I’d frequented. The owner knew me well, and would never suspect I was capable of such a thing. In fact, before today, I wasn’t.
It all came to pass when I came upon the beautiful stranger on the side street after leaving the bread shop. His eyes were the color of the flowers I picked in the meadow near my home, the home where I once lived. Each spring, the lavender flowers would bloom. And each spring, I would pick more than my mother could dry, sell, or cook. When his eyes had met mine, I was lost for an endless moment before I quickly lowered my gaze to the ground, and picked up my pace. The day was tidying up, giving way for the night. And the street was no place to be after the sun went down.
As we passed each other, I stole another quick glance at his eyes. I wish I hadn’t. Those eyes belonged to the devil. Time seemed to have paused between five insignificant seconds. He tilted his hat, “My Lady.” Never one to be rude, I nodded in return. My shoulder brushed his arm as we passed each other.
“I’m sorry, please excuse me.” When I turned, he was very near to me. He bent, took my hand in both of his, and whispered in my ear, “Carve for pleasure, carve for hate, carve for leisure, carve your mate, carve for beauty, carve for pain, but never carve for love, or carve in vain.” He slid the blade over the center of my opened palm; a thin line of blood filled the sliced flesh. The sting was sharp, but brief. I tried to pull away but he held on tightly. He put the hilt of a knife in my hand, over the wound, and squeezed my hand closed with his. The knife’s handle was warm in my palm and steadily heated to unbearable agony. Seizures of pain racked through my body. I begged him to release whatever hold he had over me. But, he continued to hold onto my hand, while pain seared into every cell in my body. After what seemed like an endless amount of time, he released my hand.
The knife’s curved, mirrored blade reflected his violet eyes. Eyes I should have carved out right then. Some of the pain began to reside. He kissed my cheek. “You are gifted my child,” he said. Then, he was gone. I fell to my knees.
When I was able to stand, I walked home on frail, unstable legs. I wasn’t sure how my mother knew I had been cursed, but as soon as she saw me, she sent me away. The sounds of my sister crying were the last sounds I remembered hearing for several days.
22 September 1567 ~
I swore I was dying when my sister, Carina, found me in an alley. My body felt hollowed out and weak. She brought me water and cooked potatoes. I showed her the knife and told her what the stranger had said. When I looked into the blade of the knife, I knew how my mother had known; my eyes were the same as the devil who cursed me. Carina was instantly drawn to the blade; she touched its sharp edge, drawing blood. I watched, expecting her body to shake with pain as mine had. But, nothing happened. She closed her eyes and when she opened them, they were the same as they always had been, brown that was almost black. I wondered why she had not changed, like I had.
I heard the couch creak as Chandler shifted his position. Startled he was getting up to check on me, I grabbed the key from the nightstand, locked the journal, hid the key in my pillowcase, and shoved the journal under the mattress. I got up and peeked through the drapes. He was still asleep on the couch. Sighing in relief, I sat back down on the bed. My mind ran laps, trying to figure out what happened. Adelina wasn’t born a witch. The carving knife had created her. I wondered where the guy who made it went, where he was now; did it matter? What if he just transferred whatever power he had to Adelina, because he was tired of it? Now you’re losing it, I told myself; who gives up power like that? I wanted to read more, but I would be pushing it. Chandler had a habit of waking up a little after he fell asleep, and going to the bathroom.
Besides, I should let my brain process what I’d just read, and figure out what the poem/curse meant. It seems as though Adelina hadn’t carved statues before she ran into that crazy guy. I had a bazillion questions stampeding in my head. I tried to make myself relax, but it was nearly impossible. Resisting the temptation to take out the journal, I got up and brushed my teeth. The necklace caught my eye in the mirror. I reached up and held it between my thumb and finger. My thoughts drifted to Blacwin. He was out there somewhere, hunting down a fallen angel who was in love with me. I was here, impatiently waiting for him to return home.
I heard my phone chirp. It was almost midnight, so I knew it wasn’t Snow. Baffled, I went to my bed and looked at my phone. My knees turned to liquid, and I thank God the bed was there to catch my fall. It was a text from Blacwin: You never leave my thoughts. Thudding out of my chest, my heart swelled with happiness. As quickly as I could, I typed a response to let him know I was awake. I waited a few minutes, but he never replied. I called his phone, not caring if I woke Chandler or not. It went straight to his voicemail. I dialed over, and over, desperately wanting him to pick up. He never did, my brief happiness was crushed, and for the thousandth time, I cried myself to sleep.
14
“What happened?” asked Chandler. “And don’t tell me nothing, your eyes are almost swollen shut.”
My phone was in my hand. I handed it to him. It was early still and it was still dark. My head ached and my eyes felt like someone had rubbed sand in them. “Is it really from him?” Chandler took the phone and pushed the button for the screen to come to life. “Look at the texts,” I told him.
“I don’t see how it couldn’t be.”
“What if Darenfys has him in the dungeon and he’s having Pene text me? Or what if he lost his phone or it was stolen? What if—”
Chandler turned the phone off and handed it back to me. “Did you try texting him back? Or call him?”
“The calls went right to voicemail, and there was no reply when I texted.”
“Iris, I’m going to be very blunt.” My stomach felt like a giant rock had just fallen into it. “I’m not sure how much you remember from your dreams, but Skelside is in the middle of nowhere. So, all I know is if it was Blacwin who texted you, he has either done what he went there to do, or he hasn’t arrived yet.”
I scampered off the couch. “You said he’d be back. You said he’d be fine.”
“Calm down. I know what I said. And, I still believe he’ll be back. I’m just not sure when.”
“We should go find him.” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for Chandler to tell me all the reasons I was being ridiculous.
“Have you lost your mind?”
Throwing my arms up, I yelled, “Not yet, but I might as well, I’ve lost everything else.” Once the words were said, I was hit hard by the truth of them.
I sat back down on the couch and put my head in my hands. Don’t, I told myself, you’re not throwing yourself a pity party. The couch sank next to me.
“Listen, I know none of this has been easy for you.” Chandler’s tone was tender. “And the last thing you need is to lose someone else. But, once Blacwin does what he went there to do, he’ll be back.”
I calmed a little; I didn’t have a choice, it was either find composure or stay hysterical. When my scattered and irrational thoughts began to take shape, one, specifically, was blunt and harsh. “It’s impossible, isn’t it?” I knew without saying what was impossible, Chandler knew what I meant.
“Yes, killing Darenfys is nearly impossible, but there is a way.”
“How?” The simple word had no easy answer. I knew he didn’t know; no one did, except Adelina.
“If Blacwin is determined to find a way to end his existence, he will. He’ll do whatever it takes to avenge you.”
My voice was as small as a child’s. “All I can think about is the dungeon. Those were my final days at Skelside; they were wretched and absolute torture.” I started to cry. “I don’t want him to suffer like I did, die...like I did.”
The silence lasted far too long. I wanted Chandler to say something comforting, even if it was a lie. My phone rang and broke my soundless pain into a thousand shards. Chandler picked up the phone and stared at the screen. He handed it to me. “It’s Blacwin.”
I snatched the phone from his hand and pressed the accept button. “Blacwin!”
“Hi, baby.”
My racing heart stilled at the sound of his voice. “Is it really you?”