by Katie May
“Hold on.” I balance the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I dig through my backpack. My searching fingers find an old necklace Uriel got me for one of our anniversaries. I lay it carefully out on the ground before grabbing my spell book. “I have a necklace here. I can place a protection spell on it.”
It won’t protect me from all harm, only the magical kind. If a Blood decides to throw a fireball at me or shoot me with ice, the necklace will vacuum it up. But if he punches me instead? Kicks me? Grabs me? I’m on my own, the spell ineffective against physical attacks. Another problem with these types of charms is that they will only last for a few days, at most, and the power you need to expend in order to perform the spell takes a toll on your body.
“Do you have the ingredients?” she demands as I continue pulling items out of my backpack.
I flip open the book and trace my finger over the faded text until I find the spell I need.
“Bone of a sparrow,” I read aloud. “I have that.”
It’s always good to have sparrow bone on hand. The majority of spells require it.
“A ten-year-old leaf,” I continue, turning my attention towards my ragtag collection of ingredients I always keep with me. If asked about them, I can lie and say they are for a science experiment or an arts and crafts project. I bite my lip as I push aside some loose papers, a couple jars of decaying beetles, and a bag of preserved rabbit feet, before smirking in satisfaction at the sight of the brittle brown leaf in a Ziplock bag. “Have it.”
“And you need—”
I grab a sleek, black feather. “Have that as well.”
“Okay, good. And do you have the incantation?” Nana presses, and I nod, before remembering she can’t see me.
“I’ll do the spell now.” I glance nervously in both directions, ensuring that the streets are still empty and that the nearest form of life is only a tall oak. Placing my phone down, I position the bone, feather, and leaf in a triangle around the necklace. I use the book for reference as I begin to chant slowly, magic coursing through my veins as if it’s a ten-foot worm crawling just beneath my skin, attempting to slither its way out. Blue light emits from the necklace as one by one, the three ingredients burst into brilliant, bright red flames. The flames begin to curve inwards, almost in the shape of a pyramid, as the color transitions from red to a deep, unnatural purple.
I close my eyes as an invisible wind catches my white-blonde hair, causing the wet strands to fly around my face. My shirt billows in the breeze as well. I know that to any outside observer, my eyes will appear an eerie combination of blue and purple as raw power emanates from my very pores. My voice reaches a crescendo until I’m practically screaming, my throat feeling raw and brittle, like someone has just rubbed it down with sandpaper.
The power dissipates with the final word of the spell, leaving behind three piles of ash and one normal-looking necklace.
My hands shake as I reach for the silver chain and clasp it around my neck. It feels warm to the touch, stealing the remaining cold of the rainwater from my body.
“It’s done,” I tell Nana, and she breathes out a sigh of relief.
Silence once more engulfs us for a few, tense minutes.
“Where are you going?” Nana interjects at last.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, and I’m not just talking about now. Do I stay here? Do I go back to California?
I’ve been letting the tides carry me away, but now I want to swim and resist the current. To adhere to a greater purpose beyond revenge.
“Stay safe, Peony,” Nana whispers.
“You, too.”
As I end the call, I allow my mind to wander to that night. There’s always that one moment in someone’s life when everything changes. It’s a tiny, barely decipherable dot on the blueprint of your life, standing out starkly like black ink on a white sheet of paper. For me, that moment was the night of my eighth grade dance. The night where my very world crumbled around me like after a tornado wreaks havoc.
I stood in the center of the stage, the spotlight blistering hot where it glared down on me. Sweat beaded on my forehead as my eyes drifted first to Lucas, looking every inch the unattainable prince with his slicked back red hair, and then to Cassian beside him, his smile malicious. On the opposite side of the stage, Elias stood with Karsyn, both of them exchanging wary, and weary, glances, before the latter replaces his frown with a shit-eating grin.
Lucas smiled widely and stepped back up to the microphone. I couldn’t help but think how dashing he looked in his three-piece gray suit.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his butterscotch voice making my blood sizzle. Cassian began to snicker, and even Karsyn joined in, using his fist to hide his laughter. And that was when I knew. The revelation was swift and brutal, a blade on a guillotine cutting off my head. All I could do was stand there frozen as my eyes slid to Elias.
He couldn’t, or wouldn’t, meet my eyes.
Trap! my mind screamed at me, begging me to run. But for some reason, my feet remained cemented to the ground, watching this horror show unveil before me. I couldn’t breathe through the sudden, agonizing tightness in my throat. I felt light-headed, like I was thousands of meters below the ocean’s surface, struggling to resist the currents. But they continually pulled at me, dragging me deeper and deeper into an abyss of endless darkness.
“We decided that we’re going to start a new tradition,” Lucas continued. “The crowning of High Groves Middle School’s queen!” The crowd broke into raucous cheering, a few of them already giggling like they knew what was about to happen.
My eyes latched on to the teachers standing around the perimeter of the gym. How could they let this happen? Why weren’t they stopping it? A few of them met my eyes before quickly looking away. But more than one of them refused to even make eye contact, staring very purposefully at the ground. And I realized…they had no intentions of stopping this, of putting an end to the Devils reign of terror. Their parents paid their paychecks, and that was all that mattered to them in this small community, where wealth and power spoke louder than words.
I wished the secretary, Patricia Brooks, was there. She would’ve stopped this.
Mr. Gurrel was the only teacher who met my gaze and held it, winking slyly. I felt sick to my stomach when he lowered his hands down his toned stomach and cupped himself through his pants. Before any of the other teachers could see, he quickly dropped both of his arms to his sides and adopted a nonchalant pose.
I was alone.
Truly alone.
The thought should’ve terrified me. It should’ve made icy, insidious fear skate down my spine. It should’ve made my hands sweat and my heart pound and my eyes water.
Instead, I felt empty.
I couldn’t muster up a single emotion besides loneliness.
Elias used me. I had no friends. My mother hated me.
I was alone.
“…and that’s why we chose Peony Simone as our new queen!” Lucas waited for the cheers to die down before turning towards me. “As most of you know, she overcomes adversity each and every day. Some of you may not know this, but Peony is a hermaphrodite.” A group of girls standing closest to the stage began to giggle, while the rest of the room went completely silent. I could feel every eye on me as Lucas spun his story like a spider spinning a web. He was enjoying this, I realized. He lived for being in the spotlight, for having every eye fixated on him with undivided attention.
All of the Devils did.
They did most of their evil acts in the shadows, but when they stepped into the light…
You just knew it was going to be bad.
“I saw for myself that Peony has a cock dangling between her legs. Isn’t that right, boys?” He turned towards the other Devils. Cassian and Karsyn nodded with glowing smiles on their faces. Elias’s jaw was clenched tightly, but he nodded as well.
And that did it. Those nods were what finally broke me. I was a sinking ship, finally submerging
completely beneath the persistent waves battering against my sides. Pain exploded inside of me like one of those basement-made bombs. It wasn’t pretty or precise. It was just…boom.
“But, boys,” this time, Lucas addressed the crowd, “don’t be afraid. Peony still gives great blowjobs.”
The laughter was louder, almost encouraging. This entire situation reminded me of Tinkerbell. She needed attention to survive, just like the Devils did. How much power would they have if no one gave them the time of day? If no one laughed at their stupid jokes and taunts? None. My classmates handed the power to them on silver fucking platters, allowing them to feast like kings.
More and more laughter broke through the throng of students like rippling waves.
The eyes weren’t on me, though, but on something behind me. Unwittingly, I twisted my head to see a hastily created photoshop blown up on the screen. It featured me on my knees with my mouth open and the four Devils huddled around me, their cocks out. They had enough decency to blur their genitals, but they hadn’t extended the same courtesy to me. Instead, a pair of saggy breasts, covered in moles and warts, were placed on my body. Above the picture was the caption, “Witches be crazy.”
“All right, that’s enough!” Principal Maynard stormed through the crowd just as the slideshow changed to a new picture. It was still one of me with the hideous, saggy breasts, but instead of the Devils, I was on my knees before Principal Maynard.
The laughter amped up, but I could barely hear it. It sounded muffled, as if I was hearing it through a tunnel.
All I knew for certain was that I wanted to die.
I pull myself out of the memory with a jerk. It feels as if I’ve been trapped in there for hours, but I know it has only been a few seconds.
Hands trembling, I begin to pick up my ingredients and shove them back into my backpack. I don’t know where I’m going to go yet, but I know it’s not home. Not yet. I’ll get a hotel if I have to and spend the night there.
I straighten to my feet, my pants soaked from the muddy puddle I’d been kneeling in, before twisting to walk back into town.
Only for my feet to falter.
Karsyn Alder stands behind me, rainwater running down his face and his blond hair drenched. He stares at me for a moment, not blinking and mouth slightly agape, before those hazel eyes of his lower to my necklace.
I’m frozen as well, my heart hammering in my ribcage loud enough for me to hear.
And then, his voice barely above a breath, he says, “What-what the fuck was that?”
Chapter 40
A tightness grips my lungs. I suddenly find it impossible for me to inhale air. Am I dying? Is that what this feeling is? My nails dig into my palms hard enough to draw blood, but I don’t focus on that. It’s a distant thought, like seeing an airplane flying across the sky while you’re outside in your lawn. You hear it, maybe even see a trail of white, but you don’t think anything of it.
“W-What…what do you mean?” I manage to stutter out, preparing to walk around him.
“The flames…” He nods towards the ash piles, his movements jerky. “I saw—”
“Are you okay?” I cut in. “Did you hit your head?”
My heart gallops in my chest, sort of like one of those animated cartoons where you see the heart extend and inflate from the character’s body.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! First Lucas, then Elias, and now Karsyn. How many more people will learn my secret? Will he become furious like Elias or only show curiosity as Lucas did? Will he want to hurt me? I don’t believe that last thought for even a second, but I can’t help but feel cautious, especially after Elias’s explosive reaction.
“Peony.” Karsyn takes a step towards me, thinks better of it, and then steps back. I scared him—scare him. I can see that clear as day on his face. He bites down on his plush bottom lip before pulling it through his teeth. Then his tongue snakes out to lick at his top one. He repeats this a few more times as he stares at me. Just stares. I wait for him to begin yelling, to begin screaming, to threaten to call the police on me, but all he does is pierce me in place with that penetrating gaze of his. I think out of all the Devils, his eyes are my favorite, even more than Elias’s strange color. The soft reflective browns, spreading to hills of grassy meadows, with the outer edge rimmed in russet-hued gold. They complement his shorn blond hair and the days old stubble on his chin.
When the silence becomes too much, I begin to ramble. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but I can assure you that—”
“Don’t!” He lifts a hand into the air, and I notice it shaking. He swallows, finally peeling his gaze away from me as if it hurts to look at me. “Don’t fucking act like I’m dumb. I already told you I’m not.”
“You’re not dumb.” I slowly remove my nails from my palms and grip the strap of my backpack. “Karsyn, you’re not.”
“But you’re acting like I am,” he growls, and this time, he does stalk to me, his intent clear in every hard line of his face. He pauses when he’s directly in front of me and places his hands on my shoulders. It’s not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough for me to know he won’t let me leave without some sort of explanation. “Tell me the truth. I know what I saw.” His eyes watch mine intently, fluttering between my amber orbs. “Are you a…witch?” He says that word hesitantly, almost fearfully, as if he expects me to laugh at him for such an outlandish claim. But honestly? If the situation was reversed, I would jump to the same conclusion. A girl chanting in Latin while magical fire burned around her? A girl with pure power seeming to ooze from her very being?
Instead of answering, I simply stare at him. Just stare. Turning the tables back on him.
“What would you do if I said yes?” I query at last. Would he be like Elias and run? Would he be curious and yearn to study me like Lucas?
Karsyn doesn’t even blink. “I believe in the supernatural,” he confesses bluntly. “I always thought…” Once more, that pink tongue of his traces his upper lip, and I can’t help but imagine that tongue in more…intimate places. I shake those thoughts off before they can solidify.
“You suspected I was different,” I whisper, and the nickname “little witch” suddenly takes on a new meaning. After all, it wasn’t Lucas who gave me that nickname. It was Karsyn.
“No.” He swallows. “But what I just saw…you can’t explain that away.” His grip tightens almost imperceptibly, but I don’t wince. I don’t allow him to see any outwards signs of my discomfort. “So please. Don’t act like I’m an idiot. Tell me the fucking truth.”
“Why?” I tilt my chin up stubbornly, despite feeling small and weak and vulnerable. Young. I feel young. First Lucas, then Elias, and now Karsyn. Why is it that three of the men capable of hurting me the most are the ones who know my deepest, darkest secret? The universe must be laughing at me right about now, giving me the biggest middle finger known to mankind.
“I won’t…” He trails off with a harried, broken laugh. “I won’t tell anybody.”
“How can I trust you?” He smells vaguely like the rainwater soaking us both and something I would almost describe as cloves. I wonder if it’s his natural scent or that of his cologne. Either way, I find that I want to inhale deeply. “Because if you want the truth, the whole truth, I’ll give it to you. But you’re going to hate me after.” The last sentence is said on a breath of air, nothing more than a whisper.
But I’m so tired. Tired of my revenge scheme. Tired of hiding. Tired of feeling so fucking scared all the damn time. It’s like my body is full of metallic pipes and slowly, almost painstakingly so, someone is taking a wrench to each and every one, allowing the pipes to burst, filling me with disgusting brown water. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I refuse to.
“Tell me.” His eyes flutter shut, and I swear his chest stops moving as he holds his breath.
“You’re right.” The words hurt coming out of my throat. “I’m a witch.”
He doesn’t reopen his eyes when he speaks next. “An
d at the football game…was that you?” When I don’t respond, he pleads, “Don’t. Lie. To. Me.”
“Yes.”
Romance novels lie. You don’t get the sweaty hands, rapidly beating heart, and weak knees when you’re around the boy you love. You get those when you’re in the midst of breaking said boy’s heart. When you’re about to break your own.
Karsyn exhales noisily, finally stepping back so he can brush at his wet hair. It proves ineffective, the blond strands flopping messily back across his forehead. I brace myself, preparing for his ire, but it never comes. His shoulders droop as he dips his head, staring intently at his dirty tennis shoes.
“I always knew you hated me,” he whispers. “But enough to do that to me?”
I shake wildly, hands clenching and then unclenching by my sides. “You deserve way worse than just a shitty football game, and you know it.”
He opens his mouth as if to protest, likely to remind me that all of his dreams were riding on that game, when he snaps it closed, twisting his head to stare off into the distance. When he finally speaks, it’s not the words I expected. “You’re right.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, you’re right. I deserved that and much, much worse for what I did to you. The things I said. The fucking dance.” He laughs, but the sound holds no mirth. “That fucking dance. I still think about it, you know. That night.” He pulls his gaze away from the horizon to focus on his hands. They may not be stained with blood, but that doesn’t make them clean. “I planned to apologize the next day, you know? I knew that you probably wouldn’t believe me, but I couldn’t live with this…”
“Guilt?” I supply, but he shakes his head.
“Pain,” he corrects. “I couldn’t live with this pain. I hurt someone I cared about, all in the name of popularity. Looking back, I can barely recognize myself. Like, who was that little fucker? Why did I do what I did? I don’t have an answer to any of those questions, Peony, and that’s what scares me the most. Shouldn’t I have a reason? Don’t most evil people do evil things for evil purposes? Not me. I do evil things just because I fucking want to. Or not even really that. Because I fucking can. And I hate myself. If I would’ve known…”
