It was David’s.
I blinked. Was Monica calling? I wanted to believe that, but somehow, I had a feeling that Monica had nothing to do with it. My palm itched as I reached for the phone, holding it in my fingers.
Just seeing David’s name was enough to erase the mildly pleasant thoughts of Steven from my mind. The brief affection that I’d felt for him suddenly vanished and I was left wanting to speak to David, to hear his voice.
To know if Monica’s magic was still working.
But I couldn’t. I had to be a good friend to her – that was what I’d promised.
With a heavy heart, I pressed “ignore,” then turned out my lamp and went to sleep.
Chapter Three
Elizabeth
Things were slowly going back to normal in Jaffrey, but not everything was quite there yet.
After the searches and hunts for Andrea were called off, it was like she’d completely vanished from reality. I went by the D’Amicos’ house twice in the next week, scouring for evidence. I couldn’t believe that somehow, we’d bee powerful enough to make her completely vanish.
That was when her church announced a memorial service.
It wasn’t for Andrea, exactly – at least, her name was never mentioned. Instead, the pastor encouraged the town to come out and “heal together,” presumably from the trauma of losing Andrea.
I wondered what Steven and his family would have to say about it.
Friday night, the day before the service, I was walking home from school when Steven pulled up alongside me. He smiled and I felt something of that old crush coming back. I tried to smile, remembering how kind he’d been at the party earlier in the week. But I couldn’t stop thinking of David, even though I knew it was wrong.
He’s not yours to think about, I said firmly to myself as I climbed in the passenger seat of Steven’s car. He’s Monica’s, and I need to be a friend. I need her to be happy, even if that means using her magic.
“Are you going to that thing at the church?” I licked my lips, wondering if Steven remembered his sister at all.
“I think so, I don’t know,” Steven said. “My parents used to be so into going to church…and now I don’t know, they don’t really care. So I guess.”
“You should go,” I said quickly. “It might be good for you.”
Steven cocked his head to the side and gave me an odd look. “Coming from you, that’s a little weird,” he said. “You never go to church.”
She was your sister, I wanted to scream. I wanted to take Steven by the shoulders and shake him until his eyes rolled back in his head. Don’t you remember? How the hell could you forget your own family member?
“Right,” I said quickly. “But I still think we should go.”
Steven nodded. He gave me a dreamy look. “Something bad happened,” he said slowly. “I just can’t really remember it. But things were hard for a while, weren’t they?”
Guilt hit me like a lightning bolt and I slumped against the seat. Part of me hated Monica for putting me in this position – was I really supposed to lie and pretend like Andrea had never existed?
The other part of me was just confused, and a little sad for Steven. It was hard to think of someone forgetting their own sibling.
It was even harder to know I’d watched my best friend stab said sibling in the chest.
I shuddered.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “Something really bad happened. But it’s almost over now.”
Steven reached for my hand and twined his fingers with mine. “I didn’t know it was so important to you,” he said. “But of course we can go, if that’s what you want.”
I nodded stiffly. “Yeah,” I said. “I’d like that.” Because this is my fault, I thought as Steven’s car pulled onto my street. And without me, this wouldn’t have happened.
“So tomorrow, when should I pick you up?”
I sighed. “Right before the service is fine,” I said.
“Want dinner afterwards? There’s a new chicken place, they have duck fat fries.”
“I don’t know.” I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t you think it’s kind of…I don’t know, wrong?”
“What? What about going out with my girlfriend is wrong?”
“Because we’d be coming from a memorial service for--,” I bit my lip. “I mean, memorial services are almost like funerals, right? Like, without the body?”
Steven looked at me with wide eyes. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about this,” he said. “That’s nice of you, Elizabeth. For some reason, I never figured you to be the kind of girl who cared so much about her community.”
It was a struggle not to roll my eyes. “It’s a recent development,” I said quietly. “I guess I surprise myself, too.”
Steven squeezed my hand again. I could barely look him in the eye without wanting to puke.
“Okay,” Steven said. He smiled. “I’ll pick you up at eleven tomorrow, okay?”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
Steven slowed to a stop in front of my parents’ house and I climbed out of the car, leaning back in to kiss him on the cheek. I couldn’t stop the guilt from wracking my body as I turned away and started up the drive. If I’d known things were going to turn out like this, I wondered if I’d ever have joined the coven in the first place.
I felt guilty for everything. I felt guilty for not liking Steven as much as I should. I felt guilty for thinking of David, for dreaming about David, for wondering if Monica would keep him locked in a spell forever.
But mostly, I felt guilty about Andrea. It wasn’t fair that she’d just vanished, as if she’d never walked upon this earth at all. And even if she did have an evil soul, the soul of an ancient witch, she didn’t deserve to not have a legacy.
Thunder cracked overhead and I shuddered as I pushed my way into the foyer. Mom was in the kitchen and I darted up the stairs before she could ensnare me. My heart was thudding, and while I didn’t want to be alone, I couldn’t bear the idea of talking to anyone other than Monica.
Once I was locked safely in my room, I sat on my bed and closed my eyes, leaning into the pillows and pulling a blanket over my hips. Oh, Monica, I thought as I shuddered with guilt. Why couldn’t you have just cursed me, instead?
---
In the morning, I waited for Steven outside on the porch. It was a chill spring morning, but the fresh air felt good. No one else from my house was going to the memorial – I couldn’t even think about it without mentally placing Andrea’s name before ‘memorial.’
When I saw Steven’s car, I leapt off the porch and ran over before he could stop. When he saw me, he smiled.
I felt sick.
“Hey,” Steven said. “How are you?”
I shrugged. “Not great,” I admitted. “But maybe I’ll feel better after this.”
Steven nodded. He reached over and squeezed my knee. “I’m sure you will.”
The church was packed. By the time Steven and I got there, we could only find seats towards the back. I was relieved, but also saddened – did this mean that everyone else remembered Andrea, too? Or did everyone just have the same lingering sense of tragedy, like Steven?
“Wow,” Steven whispered as we pushed our way through the crowd gathered in the narthex. “There are so many people here.”
“I know,” I replied nervously.
We sat at the end of a pew and I pulled my sweater close around my body. Despite the mass of bodies, it was freezing cold inside the church. The last time I was here, Andrea called Monica a witch in front of the whole town, I thought as I closed my hands and twisted my hands in my lap. How can everyone have forgotten?
The pastor – it was the same one who had led Andrea’s “prayer meeting” – walked to the pulpit. He was wearing long black robes with a purple cloth draped over his shoulders. He looked deeply touched.
Suddenly, a kernel of panic formed in my mind. What if he mentions Andrea by name, what if
I somehow have to explain everything to Steven?
I tried to tell myself that he wouldn’t believe me – that it would sound too far-fetched – but I couldn’t help worrying.
“Dear friends,” the pastor said, leaning into the microphone. All of the ambient sounds and chatter around me died. “It is with a heavy heart that I address you all.”
A ripple of murmurs soared through the crowd and I shrank down, leaning against the bench.
“The…tragedy that struck Jaffrey has been in my heart and mind ever since, and I’m sure it’s been weighing heavily on you, as well,” the pastor continued. “At this time, I’d like to invite you all to speak, if you feel the need to share.”
I bit my lip. The pastor stepped back, holding the microphone in his hand and gesturing towards the crowd.
“Please, don’t feel that it needs to be long,” the pastor said. “But share your feeling, share your emotions with the Holy Father and the congregation, so that we may begin to heal.”
For a few minutes, the church was silent. Then a slow line of people began to form in the aisle, their heads bowed.
I recognized one of Monica’s neighbors – the one with the slain cattle – at the front of the line and I shivered. This was a bad idea, I thought, glancing around. Now it’s all Steven’s going to be able to talk about for the rest of the day.
“Hello,” the neighbor said, rasping into the microphone. “I don’t know how many of y’all recognize me…I’m Bernard Petterson, on the edge of town.”
A small smattering of applause went through the crowd.
Bernard continued: “I just wanted to say how sorry I am, I feel real bad for everyone. This hasn’t been a good year.” He paused, dramatically looking towards the ceiling of the church. “I just pray that the lord Jesus will come down and help us all.”
The pastor patted Bernard on the back and handed the microphone off. This time, I only vaguely recognized the woman holding it: she was one of the special education teachers at school, but I’d never spoken to her before. Her face was streaked with tears.
“When I think of the paranoia that gripped our town, it just about breaks my heart,” she said sweetly into the microphone. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, to heal, but I think if we stay strong, we can do it together. Don’t you all agree?”
Most people nodded and murmured agreement under their breaths.
It went on like that, for over two hours. By the time the line of people was growing shorter, my butt was numb from sitting on the wooden pew. I’d barely sneaked a glance at Steven the whole time, but now I searched his face for any trace of emotion or sadness.
He mostly just looked stoic and bored, the way I’d seen him in school before we’d ever talked.
“Let’s get out of here,” I whispered.
Steven cocked his head to the side. “You want to leave? It’s not over yet,” he added. “I thought you felt like you had to stay?”
I licked my lips. I’d expected to be wracked with guilt and grief, but if anything, I just felt more detached than ever. Somehow the service had failed to touch me – it felt fake, phony, like something that was more for the survivors than Andrea. I knew I should have been relieved that no one mentioned her by name, but surprisingly, that just made me feel worse.
Steven and I ducked out of the church, into the early afternoon sunshine. The day had warmed up and I took my sweater off, folding it in my arms and keeping my face turned to the ground.
“So, you want to get something to eat?”
I shook my head. “I was thinking we could go for a walk in the woods, just a short one,” I said. “You okay with that?”
Steven gave me an odd look, but nodded after a second. “I just want you to be happy,” he said. “Elizabeth, that’s really the only thing I care about.”
I bit my lip. “I know,” I said softly. “Thanks.”
Steven drove to the edge of town, near where the Boers’ lived. He parked at the end of the road and we climbed out of the car, walking towards the woods in silence.
“So,” I said cautiously. “How are you feeling?”
Steven shrugged. “Fine,” he said. He yawned. “That was long.”
My heart sank. “I take it you didn’t really get anything out of that,” I said softly, crunching over dead leaves and twigs. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, you wanted to go,” Steven said. He reached for my hand and squeezed. “Everything’s fine, Liz.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t call me Liz,” I said. “I hate it.”
“She hates Liz,” Steven said, tapping the side of his forehead and laughing. “I think I can remember that.”
I frowned. Something about his jokey, relaxed attitude was putting me on edge. I couldn’t believe that nothing in the memorial service had triggered him – it was too normal, too wrong.
We walked on. I pushed through the trees until I was almost jogging. Steven had to walk faster to keep up and more than once he called out and asked me to stop. But I knew I had to keep going until I was as close to the coven as possible – as close to Andrea’s fragmented spirit as it was possible to get. Of course, with Steven by my side, I’d never be able to find Henrik and Ligeia.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t try to get close.
“Elizabeth, where are we going,” Steven called. “I’m hungry.”
I set my lips in a thin line. “We can get something to eat after this,” I said. “Just a little bit longer. It’s not far.”
Shoving all thoughts of Steven out of my mind, I tried to channel the energy of the coven. Please, let me get close, I thought as I walked on. Please, just a little more.
When I felt the air begin to warm, I stopped. Turning my face up to the warming rays of the sun, I closed my eyes.
“Here,” I said. “Right here.”
Steven skidded to a stop, sending gravel and dirt flying. “Okay,” he said. He looked at me and shrugged. “What are we doing?”
Swallowing hard, I dropped to my knees. “We’re praying,” I said. “We’re praying to heal our town.”
Steven narrowed his eyes. “Elizabeth…if you feel like this, why didn’t you just say something back at the church?”
“Because that was too fake,” I said. I licked my lips. “She wouldn’t have heard us.”
“She?” Steven frowned. “Who are you talking about?”
“No one,” I lied. “Pray with me, okay?”
Steven gave me a curious look but dropped to his knees and put his hands together. “I feel like I’m back at church,” he muttered under his breath.
I ignored him. Closing my eyes, I pictured Andrea’s childish, round face. I remembered all of the times she came onto Steven in front of me, teasing me. I remembered her vindictive anger towards Monica, the way she openly hated her so much.
And then I thought about before – back when we were kids. How Andrea was always the one who cried if she fell off her bike, or how she always complained that she was cold during a snow day. I tried to remember the innocent stuff – like the time she’d earnestly asked me if the Loch Ness Monster was real after my parents had taken me on a vacation to Scotland.
Maybe it is real, Andrea, I thought with a sigh. Who knows?
When the air around me was quiet and still, I licked my lips and began.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, putting my hand down on the ground and feeling the chill, damp dirt beneath the leaves. “I’m so sorry that things turned out like this, that you had to experience such fright and pain.”
“Elizabeth, who are you talking to?”
“Shh,” I said. “I just want you to know that I loved you and cared about you. You were a good friend, and you were loyal. Just know that I’m sorry, and this wasn’t personal. It was from the past, from a long time ago, and I did what I had to do.”
I sighed, trying to picture how Andrea would accept my apology. And I was sure she’d accept it, too – after all,
she was a Christian. Even if she didn’t really forgive me, she wouldn’t make me feel bad.
Tears welled up in my eyes and I swallowed a lump in my throat.
“Okay,” I said, touching the ground one more time. “Thanks for listening.”
Getting to my feet, I brushed the dirt from my knees. I’d worn a dress to church, but my tights were muddy and stained from kneeling in the grass.
Steven got to his feet and gave me an odd look. “Elizabeth, are you feeling okay?”
I nodded sadly. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “I’ll be fine. So you want something to eat?”
Half an hour later, Steven and I were seated across from each other in the diner. He hadn’t quit giving me strange looks since leaving the woods, but I genuinely was starting to feel a little better. Hopeless, endless guilt still welled inside of me like a hidden spring but I knew that eventually, I’d learn to shoulder it and begin to move on. Being in the woods had calmed me – it was just like Ligeia had said, about the magic of nature.
When the waitress stopped by the table, Steven ordered bacon cheeseburgers for both of us, with extra onion rings and fries. I hadn’t felt hungry before, instead I’d been sick and nauseous. But as soon as there was a huge plate of steaming food in front of me, I ate until I had to reach under my skirt and pull the waistband of my tights over my protruding belly.
“Feeling better?” Steven took an onion ring from my plate and wiped it in ketchup before eating it whole. “I could still have dessert,” he added.
“God, I feel like I’m going to explode,” I said. And then there it was – the guilt, rushing back. How the heck did I just eat a huge meal, I thought. I’m supposed to be in mourning! I killed someone…and her own brother doesn’t even remember her.
“So not dessert?”
I shook my head. The burger had tasted good, but my nausea was starting to come back with a vengeance.
“Can you just take me home?”
Steven paid – he insisted – and then drove me home, his hand on my knee the whole time. It was crazy – I hadn’t felt desire, or anything like it, since before the first time we’d had sex.
Dangerous Love (Moon Light Wolves Book 2) Page 51