We had gelato, which Jojo loved. And we walked through Chinatown. I bought her a little doll, and by the afternoon she’d already lost it. It didn’t matter, though. I was having the time of my life. We both were.
And then I did it. I went to our old apartment. Tears streamed down my cheeks when I saw him through the lighted window. I couldn’t believe he still lived there, as if he was waiting for me to come back to him. And here I was, more in love with him than ever, so desperate to touch him that I could barely contain myself.
I carried Jojo across the street, since she was tired and a little cranky from the long day, and the second I touched the curb something strange happened.
All my magic—it was gone. This darkness encircled me like death, and I was stranded with no way to defend myself. I looked in every direction for something threatening, but there was nothing, at least that I could see. But I felt it watching me, waiting for what I would do next.
I couldn’t see Joseph now. I cried, knowing I shouldn’t have tried to meet him at all. It was a sign—this is why our traditions exist.
If it weren’t for Jojo, I don’t know what would have happened to us. She still had her magic, and I quickly explained to her how to make a teleporting spell. She did it! I know she’s only three, but she amazes me with her abilities already. She knows magic. It’s in her heart and mind and soul, as natural as breathing. She saved us tonight, and she will probably never know until she reads this history.
I barely catch my tears before they hit the page. I can’t believe I was there when it happened—I have no memories of it—and it breaks my heart that she missed Dad so much.
“If only I’d welcomed Joseph into our house eighteen years ago,” Nana says. “She would have never gone. We would have all—”
“Don’t start that.” I refuse to even think about what could have been. “Now we know. Jeff must have been waiting for her; sounds like she set off some kind of alarm when she went there. He knew them, how much they loved each other, and he used it against us. First to get Mom, then me. He will have hell to pay for—”
Nana’s eyes fill with horror, and she puts her hand to her neck like she can’t breathe. I run to her side. She trembles as she takes my hand, and tears spill from her eyes. This scares me more than anything, because Nana doesn’t cry.
“What is it? Are you in pain?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “He’s coming. I can feel his presence at the town’s barrier.”
FORTY
“No . . .” But one look out the window proves Nana’s right. The light is changing to an unnatural, sickly orange. Thunder rumbles, and with it comes a strange noise that sounds like someone is torturing animals. Then I realize what it is. “The alarms.”
“He’s trying to take—” Nana puts a handkerchief over her mouth. And then she coughs, so hard and so long I worry she’ll suffocate. The speck of black on the white cloth grows until it stains her fingers. Her hand shakes in mine, frail and exhausted. Death waits for her, so close it seeps through the cracks in our house and chills even me.
I wish I could force back the tears. Nana has never really looked young, but she’s always been strong. As a child, I remember her carrying me to my room if I fell asleep reading by the fire. She taught me how to hunt foxes and rabbits, where to find the best reptiles and insects. I could never outrun her, even when I ran my fastest. Everything about her is strength. I hardly recognize her this way.
“Don’t die!” I cry.
“Josephine.” Her hand comes over mine. It feels like if I push too hard I’ll break right through her skin. “Cut.”
I snap my head up, and my eyes meet hers. “Cut?”
She nods.
I gulp down another sob and take the letter opener from my desk. Sliding the trash can up next to us, I take her wrist but then hesitate. It feels wrong to hurt her, to let her bleed, but she said it helps ease the pain. She deserves at least that, even if she . . .
The knife slides across her wrist with little resistance, like cutting into whipped cream. Black blood bursts from her veins with an unpleasant gurgle. It spews far too quickly, as if there is more than her body can hold. The smell is sickly sweet and bitter at once, sugar and bile, life and decay.
Nana lets out a long sigh. “Better.”
“What do you feel, Nana?” I ask.
She purses her lips. “It’s not good, my dear. We must maintain the barrier. If he uses all his magic on that, then you can make sure he doesn’t get any more by—”
“Wait.” I shake my head, already knowing where she’s going. “No. I won’t do that. I can’t do that. No one here can do that.”
“What?” Gwen says, her voice quiet.
I close my eyes, the idea too horrible. “She wants us to kill her, so he can’t get any more power.”
Everyone gasps.
“That would be unpardonable,” Prudence says. “To kill our own.”
“It won’t work anyway,” I say. “He already has more than enough.” The sky screams again, as if to emphasize my point.
Nana’s eyes fill with tears. “This will not do. He can’t have you.”
No one speaks, even after she lies back, spent. Prudence has her hand over her mouth, horror in her steely eyes. Maggie holds on to her mom, and Tessa blinks back tears. Kat and Gwen stare at me, waiting.
I force down the freak-out. I don’t have time to freak out. I have to fix this before it’s too late. Stand tall. Focus on the task at hand. Treasure the time I have. “He won’t win. We’ll figure this out. Keep reading.”
Blank stares.
“I said keep reading! We need to find an answer now.”
They go back to their books. Every page flip sounds frantic, and I push as fast as my eyes will go. There has to be something. This can’t be the end. But as the hours pass, the storm grows worse, and the alarms at the barrier are the only other sound in the attic. My mind keeps going back to Levi, to his claim that Cursing me would be the only way.
Please don’t let him be right.
“Here!” Prudence about jumps from her seat, and hope blossoms inside me. “In Astrid Hemlock’s history, it says: ‘There is far more capacity to hold magic than some realize. As I have studied and grown in magic, it has grown in me. The body is only one way in which we can store magic, but there is another, more powerful way: storing it in your soul.’”
“In your soul?” The wheels turn, Levi’s shadowy aura at the forefront of my mind. He said Shadows were born with a little magic. Witches aren’t—we immediately absorb it from the ground when we’re born. Maybe that’s why his is stronger, because it’s stored in his soul. “Does she say how to do that?”
“Not in detail.” Prudence turns the page. “All she says is: ‘Once I found the seat of my soul, it was a simple matter to transfer my magic there. My power is unmatched, and no witch challenges our family’s stake in this land.’”
I sigh. It’s not much information, but it’s better than nothing. At least it gives me some other option that doesn’t involve Levi Cursing me. “Maybe I can figure out how to do that.”
No one seems very convinced, but Nana smiles. “If anyone could do it, you could, my dear.”
I try to smile back. “Just have to find the seat of my soul, right?”
“What does that even mean? Like where your soul is inside of you?” Gwen asks.
“I guess.” I sit on the floor and close my eyes, focusing on the magic that permeates every inch of this house. It’s dark and warm, like melted chocolate coating my lungs. I let it fill me until I’m practically buzzing on it.