by Hannah West
“Are you stressed about Coach’s expectations?” she prodded. “I saw the summer training you’re supposed to be following.”
I shrugged.
She frowned sympathetically. “Maybe you should tell Miss Maggie you’re not feeling well and go back to bed. She’s not a drill sergeant. She’ll understand.”
Maggie would understand, but I didn’t want her to know that the existence of the Woodwalkers had wormed its way so deeply under my skin. I’d also been refusing to acknowledge Maggie’s existence, even at the festival meetings.
“I’m okay,” I said, pointing at the brewing coffee. “Just need a little help.”
Mom rubbed my back in soothing circles, and for the first time since storming out of the Warden hideout, I didn’t feel like death and despair lurked in every corner.
Normal, I thought. Normal is good.
Unfortunately, my new normal consisted of working at Country Catfish Buffet. I’d stopped babysitting to distance myself from Kate. Two girls had recently quit the buffet, so the creepy manager had started me on the spot without even recognizing me from my brief stint there in the past. I hadn’t seen my friends in over two weeks and had only glimpsed Levi once from afar while pumping gas on my way to work. But at least I went home exhausted enough to actually sleep for a few hours.
That exhaustion prevented me from parsing the meaning of Grandma Kerry’s letter. What did she mean that I should make my own path? Obviously, she didn’t want me to join the Wardens, but I was pretty sure serving up fried food for minimum wage wasn’t going to break the curse, either.
“You’ve got to stop bringing the dogs in at night,” my mom said, scanning the contents of the refrigerator. “Their hair gets everywhere.”
“But,” I started, an unbidden frantic edge in my voice, “what about the animal attacks?”
“They sleep in a run. They’ll be fine. What kind of wild animal around here is going to jump an eight-foot, chain-link fence?”
I wasn’t interested in furnishing an argument for that.
“They’ll bark if they see anything,” she added.
Out of habit, I grasped the Malachian charm at my throat. It had taken me a few days to get used to the beguilement, and I didn’t trust it until my mom complimented my “pretty cross necklace,” which I’d claimed was a graduation gift from Kate.
Grudgingly, I agreed to her terms and took my coffee to my room. I stopped in Grandma Kerry’s room on the way. The power of the hidden rune beneath the bed brought me a sense of comfort that I resented.
I ran my hand along her dresser and examined the browning philodendron in a pot on her windowsill. I’d been watering it since she passed, but I’d been too busy lately. At her old house, she’d maintained a whole garden with fragrant herbs and vibrant flowers, which I now knew had been cultivated by magical means. I remembered expecting her to be more upset than she was about her beloved garden getting razed in the fire.
Maggie’s accusation that Grandma Kerry had burned down her own house on purpose had stuck in my craw. Why would my grandma go to such horrible lengths to prove how serious she was about erasing her history with the Wardens? Had she really been that desperate to be near me—and to keep me from them?
“I’m staying away like you wanted,” I whispered into the silence. “I know you weren’t just being selfish, and Miss Maggie can sit on a tack for saying that. But”—I pinched one of the heart-shaped philodendron leaves and felt a pinch in my own heart—“why didn’t you tell me more? Am I supposed to know something I don’t? Am I supposed to use my magic without them? Don’t I need someone to teach me? What if I’m not as powerful as everyone thinks…or as powerful as you thought?”
I felt a fleeting hope that I would experience some kind of touch, like the sensation on my face in the cabin. Nothing came, so instead I closed my eyes, inhaled, and tried to summon my magic, focusing on the leaf between my fingers.
A tickling sensation traveled over my skin, a rush through my bloodstream, an electric zing of synapses firing in my brain. The drooping leaf lifted its head, and its veins plumped beneath my touch. The brown spots turned green.
I gasped in awe, but the satisfaction was short-lived. My magic hit a brick wall, an invisible boundary. My head began to pound. The leaves suddenly bowed and turned brown again.
I watered the plant and left the room.
After the volunteer meeting, I changed into my work uniform—cutoff jean shorts and a fitted white tee that was too tight in the armpits—and reported for duty. After my first few shifts, the pervasive smell of greasy fried food had made me want to hose off out back, but I’d since resigned myself to it.
Today I was manning the cash register, which wasn’t as awful as maintaining the buffet, especially since I got to pick the music—as long as it was country. I stood hunched over my phone, choosing a song by the band that would headline the festival on Saturday, when the bell above the door rang. Abbie, Faith, Grayson, Bryce, and Levi walked in.
Levi hadn’t texted me since I’d replied to him. Same old song and dance.
Still, I devoured the sight of him, as ravenous as the customers who elbowed one another out of the way for fresh hush puppies. His skin was ruddy from yard work and his hair seemed an even more vivid shade of red than usual. I got a whiff of his intoxicating, woodsy-citrus cologne, and my icy irritation melted a drop.
“We thought we’d surprise you since you ignored my text about going to the lake.” Faith pushed aside a cup of pens to lean on the counter. She wore a burnt-orange tee emblazoned with a University of Texas logo, her chosen college, which made me feel a pang of regret over how I’d spent the summer thus far. We would all be going our separate ways soon…as long as we survived the next few weeks.
“Oh god, I’m sorry,” I said, smacking my forehead. “Between this and the festival, it’s been—”
“Nat, it’s okay. We just miss you,” Abbie said. Since she couldn’t bear to be sentimental for too long, she added, “And I’m going to need a forklift to get out of here ’cause I’m about to go to town on this buffet.”
“Ten bucks per person to go hog wild,” I said. “Twelve with a drink.”
As I checked them out, I felt Levi watching me. I handed him his receipt and cup and gave him a friendly but distant smile.
Next to him, Bryce was frowning. I realized he’d barely said a word. “Why the long the face, Bryce?” I asked, doing my best bartender-therapist impression.
“Vanessa broke up with him,” Abbie stage-whispered. “After two years, she’s apparently too busy to date.”
“And since I’m leaving for school and she’s not, she thinks staying together will just delay the inevitable,” he mumbled, his eyes misty behind his glasses.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly, and turned to open the refrigerator of desserts and cokes behind me. “You’re a catch. She’ll regret it. Here, have a slice of key lime pie on the house.”
“Thanks, Nat.” Bryce took the plastic-wrapped plate and managed a smile that lingered a little too long.
Uh-oh, I thought. The Wardens prohibited revenge magic, but I could imagine Vanessa flouting the rules to curse Bryce’s rebound crush.
I cleared my throat and looked away. “It’s open seating.”
“Come hang if you get a minute,” Abbie said, and bounded toward the stack of plates on the buffet.
The boys followed in a cluster, but Faith stayed behind. “Are you okay?” she asked, propping her chin on her fist, observing me.
“Of course. Why?”
“I know you need to save up for a car and do your summer training and stuff, but we planned this amazing, fun summer, and you’re barely around.” She shrugged. “It’s just not how I pictured it.”
“Me neither, really,” I said, unable to resist a glance at the group laughing and joking as they loaded up their plates. I wished I could go back to when I didn’t know anything about the Wardens or the Woodwalkers.
“I’m glad y’all
came by, though,” I added, swallowing the fear that stuck in my throat. “The only people who like this place are tourists and old folks.”
“Levi suggested it,” Faith said, narrowing her keen, pale eyes. “I think he was hoping you’d be working.”
I snorted as I punctured their receipts on the check minder. If Levi wanted to see or talk to me, he was never more than a simple text or a knock away. He didn’t have to rally the troops and storm my workplace.
“Sometimes I think he might be into you.” Faith tapped her short fingernails on the laminate countertop. Nails were one of the most foolproof ways to tell the twins apart if all else failed, since Abbie’s were always manicured in festive colors. “He hardly ever talks to you.”
“If you think that’s what a crush looks like, you need to go back to elementary school,” I scoffed.
“I mean, I think he might be nervous or something. I’ve caught him watching you since he’s been home.”
I looked over my shoulder and saw our friends settling into a corner booth. Levi was talking to Bryce and paying me no mind.
“He’s different from other guys, Nat,” Faith said quietly. “He’s complicated. I’ve been friends with him my whole life and even I don’t totally get him, plus he’s been through a lot. Maybe you should be the first to make a move.”
I scratched my nose to hide my reaction. If Faith weren’t half of a Faith-and-Abbie combo, I’d have told her everything already. But their twin bond was sacrosanct, and they didn’t keep secrets—which meant Abbie would be nudging and winking about Levi for the rest of the summer.
“Anyway…,” Faith finished, patting the counter. “Come over if you get a break.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling a striking disappointment when she left me alone.
A few more customers came in over the next fifteen minutes. Bored of studying the fishing trophies on the wall, I glanced to make sure the manager was nowhere to be seen and abandoned my post. If he got ticked, an apology and flattery would get you off scot-free. Standing up for yourself was a quick way to get fired.
I made my way over to their booth and perched on the crumb-covered bench next to Abbie. “What time do you get off?” she asked, resting her head on my shoulder.
“Eight thirty.”
She groaned.
“I’m sorry if Emmy ran you off from babysitting,” Levi said. “I thought you were okay sharing hours with her.”
“I was. I didn’t quit because of Emmy. Taking care of a kid requires a lot of energy.”
Abbie raised an eyebrow. “And this doesn’t?”
“So, she didn’t encroach?” Levi asked in an authoritative, big-brother voice. “You can tell me if she did.”
“No, I swear.”
Levi’s hazel eyes didn’t leave mine. “I just don’t want you to—”
“Levi, I promise. Okay?”
Silence ensued, and I didn’t realize until then that my tone had been tense and Levi’s shoulders tenser. Grayson tapped his fork absentmindedly on the table. Abbie fiddled with her earrings, a sign that she was feeling awkward.
“I’m so excited for the festival on Saturday,” she said, cracking the tension wide open. I appreciated her for it. She pointed up at the speakers. “I love this song. I can’t wait to see her play.”
“Wait,” Grayson said, bracing himself against the back of the booth. “The Riley Carson Band is playing the festival? Seriously?”
I nodded. “I have no idea how we snagged her. She’s on tour playing way bigger venues.”
“Maggie Arthur is a force to be reckoned with,” Abbie said, lifting her cup in salute. “A true icon. I want to be her when I’m old. I’ll be hip with the youths, too.”
“Dude, Riley’s a smoke show,” Grayson said, smacking Levi’s bicep. “I wonder if she’ll recognize me.”
“From where?” I asked.
“She’s actually a friend of mine from college,” Levi said, and my stomach pulled a painful somersault. That would explain how the board had managed to book such a high-profile band for our quaint festival. “Grayson met her when he visited me a few months ago,” he added. “And no, dude, she won’t recognize you. Y’all talked for less than a minute.”
Was that a slight tinge of possessiveness I heard in his voice? I’d been listening to Riley’s music in the dark, wakeful hours, feeling comforted by it when I couldn’t get my mind off the Woodwalkers. Her lyrics made me think of Levi. Now that I knew they could potentially be about Levi, the voice floating over the speakers afflicted me with envy.
“You can reintroduce me,” Grayson said. “Maybe she’ll want a tour of the town like Juliana did. I could take her out to the cabin—”
“Don’t,” I snapped. “We’re lucky we didn’t get in trouble for it last time.”
“She’d probably rather go to a bar than the boonies,” Levi said. How well did he know this girl?
The bell above the door rang again. Lindsey stepped inside and removed her aviators. I nearly gasped at the bruise that ringed her left eye, a mosaic of blues and purples.
Weaving back through the maze of tables, I met her at the cash register. “Plate for one with a drink, please,” she said brightly.
“I told you to leave me alone,” I whispered.
“I’m hanging out with my friends. Gotta keep up appearances.”
Other than the bruise, which I was sure no one else could see, she was keeping up appearances. Her chocolate waves were silky, and a light layer of mascara made her almond-shaped eyes pop. The black peasant dress that exposed her golden shoulders was about to turn Grayson back into her biggest, bootlicking fan—Riley Carson be damned, at least until Saturday.
I rang Lindsey up. After tucking away her cash and stuffing a dollar into the tip jar, she pulled three bundles of herbs from her bag and slid them across the counter.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“We figured you’d need more. I mean, you could learn to fight and then you wouldn’t have to cower in the dark, lighting things on fire for protection, but…” She shrugged. “To each her own. I just thought you were better than this.”
I set my jaw. “Kerry said in her letter that I could break the curse without joining the Wardens. I don’t know how, but maybe you could help me.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Lindsey asked, looking angry enough to karate chop my workstation into smithereens. “We’re bound together, just like Lillian, Dorothy, and Johanna were bound to Malachi. Your magic is nothing without a connection to the rest of ours. We exist because of Malachi’s curse. We exist to battle the Woodwalkers. We’re the light that fights the dark, but a candle burning on its own will get snuffed out. I don’t want you to get snuffed out. Don’t try to go rogue.”
She tucked her sunglasses in her hair and turned her back on me.
I hated knowing that she viewed my grandma’s letter as the advice of a selfish coward, and me as even worse for honoring it.
I was bone tired when I got home, too exhausted to dream or worry about the Woodwalkers. The fear had faded to a duller, somehow darker feeling: isolation.
My hair smelled like frying oil, but I didn’t even have the energy to shower. I tugged on an oversized shirt and boxers and slipped the letter from Grandma Kerry out from under my mattress, which I’d neatly folded back into eighths along the original creases. She always liked to fold notes up tight, evidence that she had accustomed herself to keeping secrets.
I hoped that Kerry’s resolve would uproot the seeds of doubt that Lindsey had planted. But before I could read her words again, deafening howls resounded through the quiet night.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. It was Maverick and Ranger barking. Bad possibilities hovered like ominous clouds in my imagination. Mom had said the dogs weren’t allowed inside, but I couldn’t leave them vulnerable out there.
Steeling my will, I pinched the amulet and made my way to the back of the house. I flicked on the porch light and opened the door.
/> The dogs stopped barking. They whined and wagged their tails as I slid aside the rusty bolt of the chain-link run. Maverick jogged past me toward the house just like I expected. But Ranger darted out of the gate and ran toward the woods at the back of our property.
I cursed and called his name, quietly. He never wandered off too far and was always back for mealtimes, so my parents would tell me to leave him be for the night if they heard me. They didn’t know what I knew.
The moon was a sliver of waning crescent. I had to use my phone light to guide my steps as I ventured into the darkness that was dense as tar. My panting breaths filled up the humid night, and I swatted at the mosquitoes feasting on my legs. Maverick returned and trailed along reluctantly as I made my way toward the woods to look for Ranger.
We neared the opaque line of oaks, pines, and hickories, many of which were marked with the Warden’s Rune. But I didn’t see Ranger.
I listened for the rustling in the brush but heard nothing. Moving on through the scratchy brambles and sappy leaves, I encountered a treeless tract where the thin moonlight seeped through the whispering black canopies. Ranger was a stocky silhouette.
“Ranger,” I hissed. He didn’t turn. My heart thudded in the hollow of my throat. I trudged forward to find his hackles raised from his neck to the base of his docked tail. Maverick whimpered from behind me.
A rank stench hung in the warm air. The Wardens had said that the Woodwalkers scavenged for bodies, wearing the dead flesh and bones of other creatures. I didn’t want Ranger to be one of them.
“Let’s go, bud.” My voice broke as I petted down his coarse hackles.
That was when I heard the gravelly breaths. They sounded ragged, animalistic…and close. I could feel a mighty presence tower above us and a hot, gamy gust blew over my face, stirring the sweaty hairs around my temple.
I locked my eyes shut. Maverick whined. A low growl rumbled in Ranger’s throat.
Limbs quaking, I grabbed the amulet at my throat and held it up like a shield.
