by Lily Velez
“Gods, shut up,” Connor groaned from the window bench.
Lucas ignored him and reclined against my pillows, reaching behind him to pull something out that was digging into his back. “What do we have here?”
I smiled softly. It was a worn, purple teddy bear I’d had for as long as I could remember.
“Cheers, mate. I was suffocating under there.” Lucas puppeted the stuffed animal’s head as he spoke in a high-pitched voice reserved for the bear. Turning the bear to himself, he let out a low whistle and said, “Well, aren’t you easy on the eyes?” The bear regarded Jack next. “Meh. That one’s okay.” When the bear saw Connor, Lucas made it shudder. “Gods, save me! I’ve never seen anything uglier!”
Connor’s withering look was enough to send a book rocketing across the room like a missile. Lucas barely moved away in time before it slammed into the headboard.
“Hey!” I grabbed the book as it fell onto the mattress and dusted off its cloth cover. It was the album my dad had recently given me, the one filled with pictures from my childhood. “Can we not use my personal belongings as weapons please?”
“Yes, Connor,” Lucas said, reverting to his normal voice. “Have a little class, why don’t you?”
Connor shook his head. “Mam and Da should’ve skipped over you and gone straight to having Rory.”
“Speaking of Rory,” I interjected, before the two could continue going at it, “where is he?”
“When we got back to St. Andrew’s this afternoon, he went to the beach with Misaki,” Lucas answered, setting the teddy bear between us and patting its head. “I reminded him about the emergency meeting at the Monroe abode tonight. He said, and I quote, ‘Enjoy that.’”
Connor shook his head. “I hate the witching year,” he grumbled.
I looked from one boy to the next. “The witching year?”
“It’s when witches come of age,” Jack answered. “It usually happens on your sixteenth birthday, though it can arrive earlier or later. When it does, you fully come into your powers, your Mastery typically emerging around the same time.”
I remembered Liam telling me Rory had turned sixteen not too long ago. “So what’s so bad about the witching year?”
“Think of it as puberty for witches,” Lucas answered as he took out a deck of cards and began doing flourishes with them. They were a different set from the ones he’d played around with at Crowmarsh earlier, boasting gold and bronze backs with an elaborate gear design that gave them a steampunk look.
It turned out Lucas actually collected playing cards. An entire room at Crowmarsh was devoted to housing his deck collection, which was in the hundreds. Many of them were vintage too. Incredibly vintage, as in centuries old. A few even dated back to the Middle Ages, hand-painted and everything.
“For one,” Lucas said, “your emotions are all over the place. And magic and emotions do not a good cocktail make. Especially considering we witches can be a moody bunch.”
Maybe that explained Rory’s distance ever since I’d met him. If it did, it definitely made me feel a lot better knowing his aloofness wasn’t about me specifically.
“More importantly, witches can be reckless if they’re not careful,” Jack said. “When your powers magnify as quickly as they do during the witching year, you feel as omnipotent as a god. Magic is alive in you like never before, yearning to be used.”
I knew that feeling all too well. When I’d been held captive by The Black Hand and Kai’s magic had coursed through my veins, it’d been massively satisfying to suddenly have so much power at my beck and call. I’d felt invincible, limitless. And that feeling had only increased by a thousandfold when it’d been Brigid’s power to surge through my body.
“That,” Jack continued, “combined with the unpredictable mood swings, can spell disaster. There are cautionary tales about witches in the olden days who couldn’t control their emotions and would lash out, setting entire villages on fire or summoning the deadliest of storms.”
“You guys aren’t concerned that will happen to Rory, are you?” Rory, who nursed helpless foxes and grieved over dead trees.
“Not really,” Lucas answered. “Though I’d pay good money to see Rory get properly riled up about something. Jack, perfect saint that he is, got through his witching year without killing anyone, much to everyone’s relief.”
“And you and Connor? Did you stir up any trouble when your time came?”
A smirk touched the corner of Lucas’s mouth, which gave me all the answer I needed.
“Does this mean I’m in the middle of my own witching year then, considering my magic has newly surfaced?”
“It’s safe to assume as much,” Jack replied. “Fortunately, you’ve been handling it well emotionally. We can only hope Rory follows a similar path.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “This is actually a relief, believe it or not. Now I know not to take the way Rory acts personally. I was starting to think he hated me or something.”
Lucas waved a hand. “Ah, don’t take it personally at all. Rory hates everyone.”
My smile faltered. “Wait, seriously? Why?”
“Deforestation and pollution, among other things.”
I lifted my eyebrows, waiting for him to elaborate.
“He hates what mankind has done to nature. He taps into the earth’s life force regularly, feels its pains at the hands of humanity. It doesn’t exactly inspire warm feelings of fraternal love toward others. Plus, he’s an empathic witch too, which hardly helps.”
“An empath is someone who can feel another person’s emotions, right?”
Lucas nodded. “But the experience is heightened when you also happen to be a witch. Rory can walk into a room and instantly feel the emotion of every occupant inside, as if the emotions are his own. As you can imagine, a gift like that can make for a noisy mind. But it takes a lot of energy out of an empathic witch to constantly keep up walls that would block out others’ emotions. So he opts to keep his distance from everyone instead. Hence why he prefers the company of plants and animals. They’re nowhere near as dysfunctional as the lot of us.”
My heart ached a little. I couldn’t imagine that was an enjoyable way to live, having to forego worthwhile friendships for the sake of your sanity.
A phone notification cut into the silence, and Connor pulled his cell out of his pocket, checking the screen. He cursed. “O’Reilly says they’re doing impromptu room checks at Seymour House.”
“This late at night?” I asked, glimpsing the face of my wall clock. It was nearly eleven.
“Hence the word ‘impromptu,’ Monroe. They’re obviously not going to do it when we most expect it.”
I slanted my eyes at him.
“You two had better head back then,” Jack said. “I’m still on my new leave, so the headmaster will excuse my absence, but Lucas has already received two demerits this term. He can’t afford a third. Text Rory to give him a head’s up as well in case he’s still out.”
Lucas wrapped his arms around me to squeeze me in a goodbye hug. He always smelled like crisp, autumn breezes. “All right, love. Off we go then. You two had better be on your best behavior, though. Remember, the gods are watching.” He winked, and I prayed Jack wouldn’t notice the red staining my cheeks.
“Goodbye, Lucas,” I said, pushing him off the bed.
He stood in the center of the room and bowed at the waist, as if thanking tonight’s audience for laughing at all his jokes. Then, in a blast of wind, he disappeared, wayfaring himself back to St. Andrew’s.
Connor was reluctant to exit as hastily. “Are you sure you’ve got this handled?” he asked Jack.
“We should be all right. I’ll call if need be, but I don’t imagine it’ll come to that.”
Connor’s eyes slid to me. There was still a little bit of poison in them. Apparently, he wasn’t going to let me off the hook so easily for my secret keeping. So much for the headway we’d previously made in our budding friendship. It looked like we
were back to square one.
“Try not to get him killed?” With those jovial words, he exited the room, leaving me alone with Jack to catch a demon in the act.
6
Scarlet
“Scarlet, you know I’d never do anything to hurt you, don’t you?”
Jack was stationed at my bedroom window, peering through the blinds intently as Connor pulled the Connellys’ SUV out of the driveway. I could feel the distance between them. Not just the physical distance but the emotional one too.
Things had been strained between Jack and Connor ever since Uisneach, when we’d all learned about Jack’s descent into dark magic. I hated that there was something broken there, driving a wedge between them, and I desperately hoped they’d find a way to mend it. I could tell how much it pained Jack to have broken his brother’s trust. The whirr of the SUV’s engine gradually grew fainter and fainter, leaving us in the vacuum of silence one tended to occupy when you lived in the middle of nowhere like my dad did.
In the pearly glow of the moon, Jack’s stunning face was carved into shadows with edges sharp enough to cut. Those familiar, dark patches that sat under his eyes like bruises had never quite faded, and though I wasn’t sure what to make of that, they somehow only made him more beautiful. Looking at Jack was like listening to a masterful symphony, the kind that stirred your emotions and made you feel things so deep and profound and real, the kind that could rip your heart in two.
His words caught me off guard, though. I’d been returning the photo album my dad had gifted me to the bureau where I kept it among pictures and other knickknacks from my life in Colorado. Jack’s question made me pivot toward him without hesitation.
“Jack, of course I know that,” I said. “I never thought otherwise.”
He remained at the window, looking out into the distance, no doubt finding his way through that labyrinthine mind of his and its storm of thoughts. The only indication that he wasn’t completely lost in another world was when he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
I closed the distance between us and put a hand to his arm, the fabric of his coat familiar and soothing. He was so close I could feel the body warmth emanating off of him. Inches away from me as he was, he towered over me, but there was a comfort in being trapped within his shadow, like taking shelter behind the walls of a fortress.
“Why would you ask me that?”
He finally pulled his attention away from the window. He spoke softly, holding my gaze with those hypnotic eyes of his. They seemed to cling to me, searching. “I’m only trying to understand why you wouldn’t tell me about your father,” he said.
My heart instantly sank. I groped for words, but Jack continued before I could respond.
“Although something occurred to me,” he said. “When Lucas was under the influence of demon venom at Uisneach, I didn’t hesitate to strike him down when he attacked you. It wasn’t enough to give him anything more than a splitting headache for a few hours afterward, but maybe you were afraid I’d use force against your father.”
“Jack, no,” I said, already shaking my head. “That didn’t play a factor at all.”
“Then what?”
I hesitated, but I knew there was no way around it. He deserved to know the truth. I sighed, my shoulders wilting. “I didn’t want to be a burden to you.”
He furrowed his brow. “How could you ever think you’d be a burden to me?”
“Because you already have more than enough to deal with between trying to find a way to wake up your mother and trying to make sense out of the book Maurice left you. Nevermind the curse that’s hanging over your head. And that’s without throwing in the matter of the damned too, which is entirely my fault.”
“Scarlet—”
“No, it’s true. Breaking open the portal is on me. We all know that, and I accept the blame fair and square.” And I’d break that portal open again too if it were the only way to save Jack’s life. I didn’t regret my actions, only what the consequences had been.
“So you thought you’d handle a demon possession entirely on your own?”
“You’ve done so much for me since the start. I thought I could spare you from having to deal with yet another crisis.”
“But why would you want to? Did you think I would resent you for it?”
My chest caved in a little at the brutal honesty of the question. Because the truth was I had thought that. I’d worried that Jack would begin to regret ever coming to know me if one disaster after another kept tailing me.
When I didn’t immediately answer, Jack’s fingertips gently rested under my chin, tipping my face up. He ducked his head slightly until I relented and met his eyes.
“I could never resent you, Scarlet,” he said, his words, their softness and warmth, their cadence, making my pulse spike. “Nor would you ever be a burden to me. Because of you, my grandfather was finally able to find peace in the Land of Youth. Because of you, my mother was freed from the prison of her mind and the Wraiths that haunted her there. I’m more grateful for those things than I’ll ever be able to describe. You’re not a burden at all. If anything, you’re a gift.”
I found myself breathless, unable to speak. That he could think such a thing of me—my heart easily grew in size from what I felt. He took my face in his hands, his thumbs scorching a trail across my cheekbones. I could’ve melted, could’ve sunk boneless to the ground. His palms were soft, warm, and his eyes were a spell all their own, me unable to look anywhere but into their brandy-colored depths.
“And last night, when the Dullahan grabbed you and nearly pulled you out of the car…” His eyes grew cluttered with unspoken thoughts. But I recognized pain in them. I recognized fear. He’d felt those things…for me. The realization practically made me dizzy.
He shook his head as if to shake away the memory and pressed on. “If something were ever to happen to you, I don’t know what I’d do,” he said, his quiet but firm voice bewitching. “From the beginning, I’ve always felt this inexplicable urge to protect you, and it’s only grown since then. So when you tell me you want to spare me from whatever giants you’re facing, it just about kills me, Scarlet. Your battles are my battles. They always will be. You never have to face them alone.”
I couldn’t find my voice. All I could manage was a nod. I wanted to collect every last word he’d spoken and string them onto a necklace I could always wear over my heart, a precious memento I could hold onto for the rest of my life.
A faint smile touched Jack’s perfect lips, and then he leaned in to press those lips against my brow, lingering there until my eyes fell shut to savor the nearness of him, the feel of him, the warmth of him.
“And besides,” he said, slowly pulling back as he dropped his hands, “if you really wanted to compare rap sheets as far as the worst witch goes, I’m sure I’d have you beat. Many times over. After all, I’ve always been the cautionary tale witches warn their children about.”
“You’re not a cautionary tale,” I said. “Not to me. Being born with a demon’s mark wasn’t your choice. And I don’t care if you used up all the wishes it came with. You did it for your family. You acted out of love. There’s nothing remotely evil about that.”
“I think a good number of witches would disagree with you on that front.”
“Then they can see me personally about it,” I said, crossing my arms. “I’d be more than happy to change their minds for them.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’m not entirely sure that’s in your job description as a Daughter of Brigid.”
“I’m supposed to protect witches, aren’t I? And you were the very first witch I ever protected. One could argue that I’ll always have a vested interest in you because of that. Plus, if you think about it, banishing that demon at the rugby game was the first time my magic came to life. I might’ve never discovered I was a witch otherwise.”
“True.”
“So in all honesty, witch-kind should be thanking you for using up a
ll your wishes and bringing demons to our world to collect your debt. That was the catalyst that put me on the path to discovering my heritage and becoming the last Daughter of Brigid.”
“I’m sure they’re preparing my crown of laurel leaves as we speak.” His eyes glimmered with amusement.
I grinned. I loved the rare moments when Jack was lighthearted and playful. There was something magnetic about him, something a little intoxicating.
I laughed and nudged him with my shoulder. “We are forever connected, you and I.”
“Not a bad thing to be.”
My heart missed a beat, but I quickly recovered. Deciding my bedroom had grown a little too warm, I hoisted up the window to let in some cool air, the breeze blazing across my cheeks like an icy knife. When I faced Jack again, there was a new flicker of mirth in his eyes.
“What?”
“You’re shivering,” he answered. “I would’ve thought you’d be accustomed to the cold. I thought Colorado was known for its ski resorts.”
“Don’t get me wrong, the winter mornings were brutal there. But I lived by the mountains, so I had the warm Chinook winds to fend off the cold. And once the sun rose, the day would warm up pretty quickly. Compare that to here, where there’s pretty much zero sunshine and the winds off the coast make you feel like you’re being frozen alive.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Here.” He bridged the small gap between us and bracketed his hands onto my arms, his thumbs gently rubbing the fabric of my cardigan in a way that made my stomach twist.
No matter how many layers I donned, it was like I could never escape the cold, especially in my dad’s house, the tired walls of which did very little to protect its occupants from the elements. At Jack’s touch, though, it was only seconds before heat flowered in my core and stretched all throughout my entire body, warming me from the inside out.
“Better?” he asked, his voice low.
I didn’t answer at first. I didn’t want him to pull away, not when I was still breathing him in. His scent reminded me of the Christmas tree tents that popped up in Colorado in late November and the way the fragrance of pine needles always surrounded me the moment I stepped inside. That’s what it was like being this close to Jack. It was as if his very soul were made up of trees and earth.