by Lizzy Prince
He was silent then as I tried to absorb everything he’d said.
“Why is it so dangerous?” Trying to understand why Lola would have mocked me for my mark. Why Munro would have hidden his?
“Because it comes from our emotions, from the truest part of ourselves. When it’s used, it’s often in times of great peril. Not many witches even have the power to access it, but for those that do, it only makes it more dangerous. Because those that can access it are extremely powerful. That means any witch that uses it is unleashing a lot of desperate, unfocused power.”
Munro’s hand wiped over his face and his exhaustion was palpable, but I couldn’t stop my questions.
“But you said it’s more myth than reality.”
I turned from him to look out at the snow-covered fields that had dominated the landscape for most of our drive. The white snow barely covered the cut crops, and it made everything look slightly dirty. The sun had disappeared behind the clouds and everything was gray and muddied. Kind of like my mind.
“Our entire history is one myth after the next. The problem with soul magic is that it’s rare and not talked about very often. It has a taint because it is said to have been Cailleach’s power.”
I took another sip of my coffee, delaying what I knew would be an intensely personal question. If Munro chose not to answer, I knew I’d be hurt. He knew all my secrets, sometimes before I did, and it only felt fair that he told me this.
“How did you get your mark?”
Munro made a noise in the back of his throat that was the audible equivalent of defeat, as though he’d been anticipating this question for some time now. “I…” He rubbed his hand roughly over his face, like he could scrub away the memory. The frustrated action t had me considered telling him to forget it, that he didn’t need to tell me.
He must have sensed that I was shutting down and ready to write him off because he hurried to explain. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, Annie. I’m just ashamed of my actions.”
Our gazes met for the briefest moment before he looked back to the road. I saw the honesty in his eyes and embarrassment too.
“When I was thirteen, I got in a lot of fights. My temper was… well, let’s just say I had a short fuse. One day on my way home from school, some idiot that went to my school tried to pick a fight. He taunted me for nearly a mile before he started in on my parents and all the reasons he was sure they’d abandoned me. He was making it up to get a rise out of me, but it was like he’d had access to all of the negative thoughts I’d ever had about why my mom had done what she had.” Munro grimaced and stopped for a beat before continuing.
“I snapped. I beat him so bad that his face was just a mess of broken bone and blood.” He stopped speaking and swallowed thickly. “When I looked down at him and saw what I’d done, I lost it. I threw all of my magic into healing him, but there was so much emotion in my magic, panic, fear, hatred at myself and what I’d just done, that it all sort of imploded and I ended up starting our neighbor’s barn on fire.”
The silence was heavy in the car as we both contemplated the story Munro was sharing. My emotions stretched the gamut of feeling hurt for the boy he’d been, to fear at who he could have turned out to be if he hadn’t gotten his anger under control. I needed to comfort him in some way, even if it was just with my words.
“Was the other boy okay?” I asked, noting the deep groove of worry in Munro’s forehead.
“He was. I was able to heal him before the fire started. Then I threw up on his shoes, and he hauled ass out of there and never bothered me again,” Munro said with a self-deprecating smile.
“Seriously?” I huffed, pretending to be highly offended. “And you gave me so much crap for tossing my cookies in Mrs. LaValle’s bushes,” I finished with a reproachful shake of my head.
Munro laughed softly, but it felt a little forced. “I ran to my neighbors to help them put out the fire and by the time we were done I noticed the mark on my hand.”
“Did Ryan or your Grandma tell you what it was?”
“No, I never showed it to them. I found out how to cloak it as soon as possible. It felt like something I should be ashamed of. I looked for books that mentioned the mark and that’s where I found out about soul magic, but it was all just small mentions and stories marked as folktales. And all those mentions made it seem like it was because of a loss of control.”
I blinked my eyes, feeling like there was a haze over them as the sun peeked out from behind a cloud. “So that’s why Lola mocked me.”
“She mocked you?” Munro looked at me with surprise and the frown on his brow deepened. But I waved off his question.
“That’s why you hide yours? To avoid the judgment?”
“Partially, but also because people are judgmental assholes, and they think I have a hand tattoo and that makes me some kind of hooligan.”
“Hooligan?” I snorted. “Okay West Side Story.”
“You know what I mean.” He smiled at me, looking more relaxed the longer we talked.
After sharing his story, it was as if some of the tension had eased from the car. His face still looked weary, but his shoulders didn’t seem as tight, and his grip had loosened on the steering wheel. Maybe just by talking a weight had been lifted, like being able to hold a conversation it made things feel like they could get back to normal someday. I know for me, there was a comfort in having cleared the air a bit. Things weren’t back to normal between us, but it was a start, and there was the promise that we could get there.
Something else occurred to me. “I saw your mark right away though. That first night at the Stoneman, I saw the rune on your hand.”
Munro hummed thoughtfully before he replied, “I know. For some reason, the glamour doesn’t work on you.”
“Oh,” was my own senseless reply as I wondered why the hell that would be the case.
Munro’s only response was a grunt.
***
The rest of our drive was quiet. It was obvious that we were both thinking about our earlier conversation and how all of it impacted us. Our relationship, friendship or more, or whatever the hell we’d been on our way to being before everything had imploded. The mood in the car was lighter than it had been, but we weren’t back to any resemblance of a comfortable place yet.
When we arrived at the airport we made our way through security in record time. The TSA crew was so bored that I watched one guy stack a bunch of containers in a high tower, and after he moved away another guy came over and unstacked the tower into four smaller piles. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so pitiful.
By the time we settled into our seats, I was antsy and sick of sitting. I wanted to get to New York and meet my aunt. So many questions were zipping through my mind about her. What would she think about me? What did she know about me? Just that I existed?
Munro was in the aisle seat, trying his best to keep his long legs contained to the cruelly limited space in between his seat and the one in front of him. I was sitting by the window but shut my shade since the sun was rising on my side of the plane, and it was searing my retinas. I shifted my body to face Munro, noting that his head was tipped back against the seat and his eyes were closed. His dark lashes were ridiculously long for a man, and I wished my own were that amazing. His nose was straight and classic, his jaw chiseled and lightly shadowed with a few days growth of beard. His dark brown hair was longer on top than the sides and was falling in wild disarray over his forehead. I wanted to run my fingers through it and sweep it off his face, so instead I clasped my hands together to fight the urge.
Munro must have sensed my appraisal because he rolled his head in my direction and opened one eye, raising an eyebrow questioningly. I looked at him a moment more before I asked some of the questions that had been swirling around in my head.
“Do you know my aunt? Have you met her?”
He opened his other eye, turning his head so he could fully look at me when he responded. “I’ve met her, but
it’s been a really long time. I was just a kid. Six or seven maybe.”
“Can I ask you another question?” I unclasped my hands and fiddled with the end of my seatbelt, folding it and rolling it down before letting it unroll and repeating.
Munro was still looking at me, and I could feel his eyes tracing over each feature of my face. His eyes were patient but observant, and he didn’t miss the smallest twitch of my lip or flick of my eye. Almost imperceptibly he nodded.
“Why did you keep leaving on all of those trips for Ryan earlier in the year?”
Munro’s eyes dropped to my hands that were still nervously messing with the belt. “We were trying to find Hattie. We assumed she was using some kind of concealment spell, and we were trying to find a way to break it. And then after we started working with your magic, I was looking for some mention of other witches who were able to use all the elements. You were able to tap into them all so effortlessly, I was hoping to find some mention in our history of anyone else like that.”
“And did you find anything?” I looked at his hand, at his long fingers relaxed on the arm rest between us.
He sighed. “Not much that was helpful. Just a few references to the sisters but nothing that made much sense.”
My cheeks warmed as I asked my next question, “So, you were with Butch and Lola?”
“Yes, Butch has this incredible library. He’s made it his life’s work to try to find as much of the lore and history of the witches as possible. Lola lives with him when she’s not at school at LSU.”
I wanted to ask if he and Lola ever had a thing but couldn’t muster up the courage to say it out loud. Munro looked at me like he could read my mind, and I saw the hint of a smile tip the edges of his lips.
“Any other questions?” he asked as he raised a brow.
Shifting back to face forward, I tipped my own head back and closed my eyes before answering, “Not right now. I’ll let you know in about twenty minutes. I’m sure something else will come to me.”
Munro chuckled softly beside me before he quietly said, “Take whatever time you need.”
I fell asleep with his scent surrounding me and lulling me into a peace that had been elusive for a long time.
Chapter 4
The moon was high in the midnight sky and shining down so brightly that the path was clear before me even in the dark of night. I would have known the way even in complete darkness since I’d traveled this trail so many times. My feet had helped wear away the grass and formed the pathway. The soft chirrup and buzz of summer insects serenaded me as I made my way toward Conall. It had been over a week since I’d last seen him, and I was missing him as I’d miss my own heart if it were no longer in my chest.
I’d barely escaped my sister’s side tonight and feared she was starting to suspect I was keeping secrets from her. This belonged only to Conall and me, and though I shared nearly everything with her, this was just for me.
Conall was waiting for me as I moved through the thicket and came into the clearing. This was our place. The spot where we’d first met, first embraced and exchanged our vows of love everlasting.
The tempo of my heart sped when his eyes met mine. Gray as the storm clouds that gathered over Tara, but full of love for me. I ran to close the small space between us and breathed deeply for the first time in days when his arms slid around me.
“My love, I’ve missed you so much.”
“And I, you,” he said as he caressed my face with tender touches. “Come away with me?”
Connall asked me this question every time we were together, and it made me ache with a desperate need to tell him yes.
“Soon. I promise. Soon.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing tightly against his warmth and inhaling the smell of the lush forest that was distinctly Connall.
His thumbs brushed over my cheeks lovingly as he spoke. “Your sister will understand.”
But I was afraid she wouldn’t. I was afraid she’d never let me go.
I woke up on the plane, slouched in my seat with my head on Munro’s shoulder and my arm thrown over his waist. With an embarrassed start, I sat up and wiped at my mouth, hoping to God I didn’t leave a drool spot on his shirt.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, wanting to scold my body. What the hell was it thinking, wrapping around him while I slept? Traitor.
“Don’t worry about it,” Munro replied, and I thought I heard laughter in his voice, but I wasn’t about to look at his face to find out.
Now that I was sitting back upright in my own seat, the memory of my dream washed over me, and I fought the urge to shudder. There was something so haunting about it. I had felt a love so deep and true, but real fear as well. Maybe it was just how my brain was interpreting everything that had been happening lately. For now, all I could do was focus on the reason we were headed to New York. To meet my family. The only family I had left.
Once we landed at LaGuardia, we made good time getting out of the airport since we didn’t have any bags. We grabbed a cab from the snaking cue of cars waiting to take people into the city. Scooting across the back seat of the cab, I looked to Munro when the cabbie asked where we were headed.
“Marble Hill in the Bronx,” Munro directed him, and I wondered if that was where Mari lived or worked.
It was almost noon on a Tuesday, and I assumed she had a job unless there was family money that was about to be sprung on me. With all of the other surprises I’d been getting pummeled with lately, it was a real possibility.
“Is that where Mari lives?” I asked Munro, but my eyes were focused out the window, taking in the concrete landscape around us. We hadn’t made it off the highway yet, and the buildings we passed all looked run down. There were old factories with busted out panes of glass and apartment buildings with bars over the windows. It wasn’t the prettiest view of the city.
“It is, but she also has a shop in the same neighborhood. That’s where we’re headed.”
My heart started beating with a rapid tattoo as my stomach flipped nervously. This was my mom’s sister, the only family I had left. Myriad worries started to assault my mind. What if she didn’t like me? What if I didn’t like her? What if she slammed the door in my face? What did she even know about me?
In a surprisingly short amount of time, the cab pulled up in front of a small storefront that looked like a specialty health boutique. There were two large display windows with a glass door centered between them. The windows were dressed in white with baskets of soaps, lotions and hair products artfully arranged in a way that enticed passersby to drop in and shop. The store was infused with a soft glow of welcome, and I nearly leapt out of the cab in my haste to get inside.
I was so intent on getting inside that door, that I stumbled and tripped over the curb. Munro’s hand dashed out and grasped my elbow to help steady me and the electric tingle I’d gotten so used to with our touch was back. Even though it was dulled, I still wasn’t quite ready to feel it or even have him touching me at all yet. With a gentle tug, I pulled my arm away and caught the barest hint of disappointment on Munro’s face before he schooled his features and tipped his head in the direction of the store.
“You ready?”
“Yes. No. Yes. I don’t know,” I stuttered out, each answer falling truthfully from my lips.
He chuckled softly next to me before he took the choice away and moved forward to open the door. He held it open for me out of politeness, but part of me wanted to tell him to go first so I could hide behind him. Instead, I squared my shoulders as if it would put a little steel in my backbone and walked through the door.
Soft scents flowed over me as I entered the store. Lavender, eucalyptus, citrus, and lilac blended in a symphony of smells that should have been headache inducing, but they were all subtle and perfectly matched so that the store smelled clean and had a calming effect. There was a woman checking someone out at the counter. Her long, dark brown hair fell in soft waves down to the middle of her back. When we’d pulled up to the st
orefront, I’d imagined she’d be wearing a long gauzy dress with competing patterns of paisley and plaid patches, but she was chic in a pair of dark skinny jeans, an oversized cream-colored cashmere sweater that slipped off one shoulder, and a pair of to-die-for gray suede booties.
“Welcome! I’ll be right with you,” she tossed over to us, her eyes never leaving the customer she was helping. Her eyes, that I could tell even from across the room, were exactly like my mothers.
As if I’d looked into the eyes of Medusa, I stood frozen to the spot as my heart thumped painfully in my chest. It was like looking at an artist’s rendering of my mother. She was beautiful, and they looked so much alike, but there were small variances that made her different from my mom. Her nose was a little smaller, her lips a little fuller, but the resemblance was uncanny.
Beside me, Munro made a quiet sound of surprise. Tearing my eyes from my aunt, I looked up at him with a question in my eyes.
“I didn’t realize how much you looked alike.” He gazed down at me, the feelings he had for me obvious in his eyes, leaving me flustered and overly warm. This woman was beautiful, just as my mother had been. Was that how he saw me too?
A little bell tinkled behind us as the customer exited, and I broke our entranced stare with a surprised startle and a nervous shiver. Vibrant energy swirled around Mari as she came across the store to greet us.
“Hello. What can I help you with today…” Her voice trailed off and she just stood in front of us, her mouth almost comically agape as she stared at me.
Her eyes raced over my face and up and down the length of me, taking in every tangle of my hair and freckle that sprinkled across my nose. Her hand shot up to her mouth as she gasped, and I could see it was shaking slightly. She darted her eyes over to Munro for a fleeting second, only to shoot them right back to me as it obviously registered who I was.
