I paused at the iron stairwell, listening for any sounds.
The pendulum drummed back and forth, haunting and ominous in the midst of such an eerie setting.
I began my ascent, tiptoeing carefully up the spiralling steps. Light from the crystals spilled from the upstairs room, casting tall shadows across my path as I neared the top.
Here goes…
I emerged into the domed attic.
I caught my breath.
Fake Jake and the old Light Keeper were sitting opposite each other on the floor in the center of the four pillars. A small sphere of iridescent light hovered between them, and they touched it with their fingers as it swirled around. Their eyes were fixed on one another, trancelike, and unaware of my presence.
At that very second, just as I emerged, their hands dropped and they slumped to the floor, unmoving. The glowing sphere dropped too, fragmenting into a sea of light that rippled across the wood planks and over Fake Jake’s motionless body.
I gasped.
Are they…dead?
Gingerly I edged closer, picking up a bulky clay owl as I went. If Fake Jake wasn’t actually dead, I’d be only too happy to finish off the job.
I stood over him, taking one last look at his serene face. Then I raised the owl high above my head and brought it down swiftly.
Fake Jake’s eyes shot open and he rolled out of the owl’s path.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
I threw the owl at him and he sprung to his feet, dodging the missile.
“I’m here to kill you,” I said boldly. “So, um, be prepared!”
I’d hoped to sound sufficiently terrifying, but by the look on his face, I hadn’t succeeded. Before he had a chance to grab me, I began racing around the room, scooping up all the owls I could manage and hurling them at him one by one.
“Get out of that body!” I shouted, launching a knitted owl at his head. The soft animal rebounded off his skull and onto the floor.
I cursed silently. Figures that the only one I land’s a dud.
“Ow,” he said, probably just to humor me. “Stop throwing owls at me, Elana.”
“No!” I flung another one. Another miss. “I’m going to kill you!”
Fake Jake covered his head with both hands. “Put down the owls. I mean it. Don’t you throw even one more. Don’t you—ow!”
I began to maneuver a heavy figurine. Fake Jake stalked towards me and grabbed hold of the other end. We grappled with it for a while.
“Let go!”
“Drop it, Elana,” he shot back. “What are you doing here, anyway? I took you to the bridge, didn’t I? You should have left.”
Across the room, the old Light Keeper made a strangled sound. She had awoken and was struggling to her feet now.
Her bony finger extended towards me. “She is alive!”
We took intermission to stare at her.
“Yes, I’m alive. And I’m going to save you from him.”
“It is too late,” she said in her twittery voice. “The changeover is complete. The die is cast.”
Fake Jake looked to the floor.
“The changeover?” I echoed. “So, that’s it? I’m the Light Keeper now?”
He raised a patronising eyebrow at me. “Funny, I don’t remember you being there.”
“You were pronounced dead,” the old lady exclaimed, “so another took your place.” Her crooked finger moved to Fake Jake.
“Him?” I spluttered.
“The Light Keeper is born,” she declared.
“But he’s evil! He’s a shapeshifter!”
He blinked at me, looking genuinely confused. “I’m not a shapeshifter.”
“Y-you. You stole me from the watchtower, and then…and then stabbed me! See?” I held up my cut hand for the old lady to inspect.
She shuffled closer, squinting as she examined my wound. “I don’t see.”
“Right there!” I exclaimed, nodding towards the clearly visible red dot on my palm. “He’s a shapeshifter, and he tried to kill me!”
“I didn’t try to kill you,” Fake Jake protested, raising his hand. A similar incision blemished his own palm. “I needed some of your blood in me, that’s all. I needed Light Keeper blood.”
I released my grip on the owl and it clattered to the floor.
“I came back for you,” he explained. “Not as a shapeshifter, as me. I couldn’t leave you here. You deserve to go live your life. I told you that.”
“No,” I whispered.
“I dropped you at the western bridge…” He reached across and slid his hand into my cardigan pocket, retrieving his phone. “I left you this.” In my earlier trauma, I’d completely forgotten that Jake had tugged at my pocket before he pricked the skin on my palm.
His phone.
Oh, god.
Fake Jake wasn’t a shapeshifter at all. He was just…Jake.
“I took your place, Elana,” Jake told me. “You’re free to go.”
“It is done,” the old lady confirmed. “Out of body, he valiantly walked through the changeover, and forsaking all others, he made the transition.”
“I saw Flip!”
“But…No.” I shook my head vehemently. “It can’t be. There’s only one Light Keeper—me.”
“Not anymore,” he said with a quick smirk. “Now it’s me.”
“You behaved recklessly.” The old lady waved her crooked finger in his direction. “The true heir was not dead. You should never have taken her place.”
“In my defence,” Jake argued, “she wasn’t supposed to come back.”
“But I’m back now,” I said. “So…hand it over.”
“No,” he said. “I’m the Light Keeper now. You’re no longer needed.”
I turned to the old lady for support. “Can you please tell him?”
“Only one can hold the essence—”
“Yes. Me,” I reminded her. “I’m the one.”
“Not anymore.” Jake showed me the cut on his hand. “I took enough of your blood to trick the ritual, and the changeover worked. So now I’m the one.” He inhaled deeply. “Ah. See? I can breathe again.” He studied his fingers. “I can feel the crystals’ essence flowing through me. Oh, yeah—I’m definitely the one.”
The old lady bowed her head reverently. “Then my work here is done.”
“But…” I began again.
She wasn’t listening. She walked away from us, scuttling towards the iron banister. We watched the stairwell until her shadow disappeared and her footsteps faded.
Outside a chorus of owls began to hoot. Jake and I looked up just in time to see a one solitary silver owl soar above the clear glass ceiling. A long moment passed before we spoke again.
“Jake, why?” I whispered at last. “What crazy logic possessed you to do this?”
He shrugged. “I wanted to give you a life. I don’t mind taking the bullet.” He straightened his collar. “Anyway, I think I’ll make a good Light Keeper.”
“But you’re the Shadow.”
“Nope. The Shadow is gone. I’m—”
“The Light Keeper.”
“Yes.” He smiled. “But you can call me Jake.”
In a rush of emotion, I wrapped my arms around him. I listened to the pounding of his heart. He had sacrificed himself to the watchtower to spare me.
I held onto him tighter. “I’ll stay with you. I won’t leave you here alone.”
I felt the rumble of his laughter against my body. “That kinda defeats the point, Witch. I did this to set you free. You’re not needed here. It’s over.”
“I don’t want it to be over,” I choked.
His arms fastened around me. “It’s alright. I’ll be alright. You know what I realized? This was the point all along. Rufus set me up for this, I know he did. This is my destiny.”
“It’s my destiny, too.”
“Not anymore. I changed your destiny—I’m giving you a better one. So, go. Live your life.”
“I don’t wan
t to.”
Tears began to spill over onto my cheek. Why wasn’t I happy? Jake was alive, and I had the freedom I’d wished for. So why did it all feel so horrible?
“Don’t be afraid,” Jake whispered into my hair. “I’ve got this.”
I pulled away from him so that I could see his eyes. They were deep brown, flecked with a glint of the hidden mountain crystals.
“Can I stay with you?” I asked in a shaky voice. “I can’t leave. I don’t want to.”
“You will want to leave, Elana,” he spoke gently. “Maybe not right away, but one day you will. And as much as it’ll crush me to see you go, I’ll let you walk away. I’ll do it with a smile, too, because your life is out there waiting for you to find it.”
“I don’t need to find it,” I insisted. “It’s right here.”
His lips brushed mine with a rueful kiss. “Do one thing for me?”
I nodded my head, hopeful that he would change his mind and beg me to stay.
“Give it a year,” he said.
“Yes!” I agreed emphatically. “I’ll stay here for a year—”
“No,” he cut me off. “I meant, go home for a year. If you still want to come back after that, then I’ll be here. If not, then I’ll be content in the knowledge that I’ve given you a life. And know that I will be truly happy for you.”
“No. I can’t. I—”
“One year,” he said adamantly.
I tried to speak, but I couldn’t find the words.
“Promise me,” he said. “One year.”
“Nothing will change. I’ll come back.”
He smiled thoughtfully. “We’ll see.”
Chapter Nineteen
Let Me Count the Ways…
“What do you think, Elana?”
I heard my name and looked up. I must have been daydreaming again.
“Are we supposed to copy that?” Marissa asked in a hushed voice. In the seat next to me, she picked up her pen and pointed towards the front of the classroom.
Our teacher, Miss Pickford, was dexterously jotting sonnets onto the whiteboard.
“This will be your homework,” Miss Pickford announced, adjusting her glasses as she turned to face the room. “Begin the sonnets as they appear before you, but rewrite your own alternative endings.”
There were a couple of groans throughout the classroom. The homework itself didn’t seem too daunting—the word homework was the discouraging part.
I glanced at the plastic clock on the wall. Ten forty-five.
My heart gave a little tug. Today was significant. In fifteen minutes, it would be exactly one year since I’d left Jake at the watchtower.
Three hundred and sixty-five days ago, Jake had risked leaving the tower just long enough to drive me to the western bridge. We’d kissed, I’d cried, and we’d said our final goodbye. Jake had given me his phone, so that I could call for help as soon as I’d located a network signal. After a long and heart-breaking trek down the western mountain road, I managed to get through to the emergency services. I told them I’d been hiking and lost my way. A lie seemed easier than the truth. After that, I’d called my mother. I told her everything, and cried some more.
Astra had wept for joy when she saw the cop car pull up outside our house, with me in the passenger seat looking tearstained and disheveled. I swear she barely left my side in the weeks that followed—which was a good thing, because during that time I couldn’t have needed her more.
I’d thought about Jake every hour of every day. For a long while, the guilt of what had transpired consumed me—he’d given up his freedom for me. But I promised myself I’d return to him.
The days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months. Soon, I was back in school, having told my friends I’d been off sick. Only Marissa knew the truth, and it restored my faith in her that she didn’t breathe a word of what she knew. Not one single word.
Marissa and my sort-of ex-boyfriend Ben had split up by New Year’s. By February she’d apologized, and by March we were friends again. In July I turned seventeen. I passed my driver’s test and bought a heap-of-junk Volkswagen Bug with my birthday money. I focused the bulk of my time on Astra, getting to know her through whole new eyes. I went to school dances and fundraisers. I went on road trips to the beach, bonfires by the river, carnivals in the park, and I took the time to get to know Harry Brooks—Jake’s dad. Of course, to Harry, he was James. To me, though, he’d always be Jake.
I learned a lot about myself during that time. Perhaps most importantly, I learned what it meant to be a witch. It wasn’t about rhyming or chanting—thought that was part of it—it was about desire and faith. I was a witch. I always had been. I’d brought things into my life, not because I’d wanted them, but because I’d needed them. Astra helped me harness the power inside of me, and soon I was able to will beautiful wonders into our humble little world—flowers in bloom, stars in the cloudy night sky, and harmony at times when it was needed most.
And now here I was, November, exactly one year on. The leaves had turned brown and fallen from the trees. Ashwood Hollow looked, smelled, and felt the same as it had a year ago. Had anything changed?
Yes. Everything had.
I glanced at the classroom clock. Ten forty-nine.
Beside me, Marissa jotted in her notebook, a curtain of auburn hair cascading onto her desk. I picked up my pen and followed her lead.
Sonnets, I scribbled the title onto a blank page.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1980-1861)
I stared down at my notebook, the words of the sonnet resonating with me.
“So cringey,” Marissa giggled. “How do I love thee,” she mocked in a sing-song voice.
Let me count the ways, I mused silently.
All of a sudden, the shrill sound of the school bell jolted my attention back to the clock.
Eleven o’clock exactly. One year.
Miss Pickford shouted out a recap of our homework while chairs scraped and students began filing out, heading for their last classes before lunch.
Marissa pulled a face. “Math next,” she complained, flipping her silken tresses over her shoulder. She gathered her notebook and pen, and stuffed them into her designer shoulder bag—imported from Paris, as she loved to remind me.
I smiled, and then, to her surprise as much as my own, I hugged her.
“Bye, Marissa,” I said.
“Bye?” Her perfectly penciled on eyebrows knotted together. “Are you ditching? Because I could go for a caramel latte…”
“I’m leaving,” I told her. “I’m leaving Ashwood Hollow.”
She frowned. “What, like, on a peace thing with your mom?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m going alone. I’m leaving—for good.”
Marissa’s jaw dropped a fraction. “Elana, you…can’t.”
I smiled again.
“Does your mom know?” she pressed. We walked out of the classroom and paused in the hallway, facing each other. Students rushed around us as we stood stock still, our eyes locked.
“She knows,” I said. “I haven’t told anyone from school, though.” I’d only told the people who needed to know—Astra and Harry.
For a mome
nt, Marissa looked hurt. “You could have told me. I wouldn’t have told anyone.”
I felt a swell of warmth for her. “I know. But I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. And I didn’t want you to beg me to stay.”
“As if! I don’t beg.” She grinned. “Although, I would have insisted you stay. You’re my best friend…despite your insipid fashion sense.” She tugged affectionately on the sleeve of my dip-dye effect sweater.
“If you don’t like my clothes, how come you keep borrowing them? And by borrowing, I mean stealing.”
She pouted.
“By the way, you can keep my favorite black jacket,” I said as an afterthought. I’d been campaigning to get it back for a year now; it was time to give it up as a lost cause.
“J’adore you!”
I feigned modestly. “I know,” I sighed. “I’m totally the bigger person.”
Marissa smiled gently. “You’re really leaving?”
“I really am.”
“I’m going to miss you.”
I gently cuffed her arm. “You, too.”
“You won’t be coming back… ever?”
“I’ll come back to visit. All the time.”
“You’d better.”
The school corridor was quiet now. Lessons had started. There was nothing left to say. I checked the time on my phone—Jake’s phone—before slipping it into my backpack. I slung the heavy bag over my shoulder. It was crammed with all my worldly possessions.
“Text me later,” Marissa said.
“I will,” I told her. “See you, Marissa.”
“See you, Elana.”
I smiled. With one final nod, I walked away, leaving her alone in the quiet corridor. I was certain she’d stayed there watching until I was through the main doors and into the parking lot.
Outside the air was crisp and fresh, just as it had been last year. I slid into the driver’s seat of my crummy old Bug and revved the engine. My pulse started to race, and I couldn’t supress the smile that was forming on my lips.
I was going to Jake.
It was about time.
More books by Gabriella Lepore
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