by Kate Hall
Her heart slows in time with his, and they eat their lunch in silence. Just before the bell rings, Alex says, “Hey, you should come with after school and meet the dragon. He’s really…” She waits for him to continue, but it seems that he can’t find the right word.
“Sarah sent me a picture fourth hour. He’s hideous.” At the same time, they laugh, collecting their stuff to get to fifth hour. “Meet me at the parking lot. I’ll give you a ride there,” she says.
He waves as they part ways. Her heart is back to normal again, and she smiles as she goes to her next class. She can’t wait to go to Sarah’s house.
After school is out, she goes to her car. It’s almost like any other day, except instead of going to her house, she goes west on a different interstate instead of going south. Alex is sitting in the passenger seat, holding on for dear life. She’s so excited to meet the dragon that she ignores the emotions flying through traffic and jumping in and out of her like lightning.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sarah
WITH MIDTERMS THIS WEEK, IT’S HARD TO PUT as much effort into finding Helen as usual. Despite the imminent threat, Sarah is concerned about failing her Practical Magic course. If she fails any of her classes, she’ll get kicked out of St. Merlin’s, even if her legal guardian is one of the teachers.
Gabby’s parents don’t want a dragon in their house, so they’ve spent the weekend studying in the living room at Sarah’s house. A snack bar is set up on the vintage table behind the couch, and textbooks overlap on the too-small coffee table. Mark had forbidden Sarah from attempting an expansion charm on it. “I’ve seen your Practical Magic grades. We love you, but we don’t want our table to be bigger than the room.” So they make it work.
“Ingredients needed for a Sleeping Draught,” Alex says from the armchair across from her.
“Valerian root, lavender, and….something...scales?” Sarah replies. Both Alex and Gabby boo her, tossing bits of popcorn in her direction. Gabby hits their buzzer, a cheap dollar store button she found that makes an annoying noise. They press it anytime someone gets an answer wrong. “Arthur, no!”
She scrambles up as her dragon—named after King Arthur—clambers out of his heating pouch to chase after the bits of popcorn all over the table. His little claws scrape at the pages; it’s a good thing Alex put a spell on their textbooks to make them indestructible for a few hours. Arthur’s baby feathers have come in since he hatched the other day, so he’s now a fluffy gray thing with white speckles.
He’s already gained five pounds in the few days since he hatched, and he’s as clumsy as a puppy. His wings are tucked against his body, but he waves them around when he trips over a bowl of salsa and falls to the floor. A dull blue color seeps into Sarah’s brain, the feeling she gets every time he’s nervous. Much like with Hawthorne, she can feel Arthur’s emotions and memories, although most of his are in the form of colors and scents since he’s a baby.
She rolls her eyes and scoops him up, putting him securely back in his pouch, which promptly begins smoking. He tends to tantrum when she puts him up, but he got salsa all over their books.
“I’ll take him,” Alex says. He’s the only one who’s fireproof, so he holds him whenever he tries to set stuff on fire. Sarah passes the pouch across the table, careful to not knock down any of their drinks.
“Okay, my turn,” Gabby says, eyeing them. Sarah crosses her fingers that she isn’t asked a question again. “Alex!”
They go on like this, throwing rapid-fire questions at each other. It’s not the most effective study method, but it’s definitely fun. Mark and Elizabeth are in the proper living room in the newer part of the house, probably trying to stay as far away from the three sugared-up teenagers as possible.
None of them talk about her vision. They don’t mention how different everyone is treating her at school, and Sarah is relieved at that. She doesn’t want to talk about it. The knowledge of her vision spread like wildfire—most psychics don’t have to deal with life-threatening situations, especially not dark rituals that have already taken the lives of two classmates. Some of her less polite classmates have found a different word for her—witch. A psychic, though? A psychic could ruin you.
Gabby and Alex treat her no differently, and Kendall and David were kind to her yesterday, but she can sense their apprehension. She should’ve expected nothing else—Gabby is a Spiritual Mage, but empaths aren’t considered to be much of a threat.
Because of the vision, though, Kendall is safe, protected at all times by a security guard her parents hired. David and Alex are also keeping watch at school. It’s fine. Sarah just has to learn to control her newfound abilities, although the vision seemed to spark something primal in her, something she never knew existed. Every time someone bumps into her in the hallway or brushes their fingers against hers, she gets little flashes, like she got with Hawthorne and the female dragon. Instead of glimpses into the past, though, these are tiny snippets of the future. Yesterday, when Alex took her hand, she saw him tripping. Hours later, he came into their lunch room with a slight hitch in his gate—he’d fallen while coming up the stairs.
“Sarah,” Gabby says, resting a hand on her shoulder. A flash of Gabby lying in bed crying comes to her. She shakes it off. “It’s your turn.”
She blanches, hurriedly flipping through her notecards. “Gabby,” she says. “This is a graphing question. No calculator. What’s the difference,” she shows Gabby the graph on the back of the page, “between this graph, and…” she reads off the equation for Gabby to write down.
“I know that one!” Mark says, his voice floating in from the kitchen. The scent of fajitas floats in, and Sarah’s stomach grumbles despite their snacks.
“No cheating!” Alex calls back.
At the same time, Gabby shouts, “You should just give me a copy of the test! Show some favoritism!”
A laugh trickles in, and Mark sets a giant platter of chicken fajitas on the couch, as they’re all sitting on the floor. Arthur scrambles out of the pouch and chirps, tripping over to the plate. Sarah grabs him before he can steal their dinner, but she feeds him little bits of spicy chicken when nobody is looking.
Both Gabby and Alex stay over the whole weekend—Gabby sleeps in Sarah’s bed with her, and Alex is relegated to the couch once again.
It’s going to be alright. The police are catching up to Helen. Even Detective Gonzales is optimistic. This will all be over soon enough, and days like this won’t be undercut by a layer of tension.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Alex
IN PREPARATION FOR FALL BREAK, ALEX IS CLEARing out his locker over lunch when he hears the girl’s scream. It reverberates throughout the hallways, stopping students in their paths as they turn to figure out where it’s coming from. Alex is absolutely paralyzed as the scream goes silent for an instant, his adrenaline burning through him and bursting out of his fingertips in flames.
Another scream rings out, somewhere toward the stairwells at his end of the building. Sarah.
He runs. The hallways are crowded—most of the other students have finished the remainder of their finals, so they’re making their way to the parking lot to leave for the next week and a half. If he hadn’t had his pyromancy test after lunch, Alex would already be back in his dorm, packing to go back to Kansas. Instead, he’s desperately pushing through the crowd of people, struggling against the tide as it washes out in the wrong direction. He stumbles on one step when an image flashes in front of his eyes—red. Pools of red. He runs up and through the second-story hallway toward the abandoned classroom, where the screams are radiating from. His head is throbbing just behind his eyes, but he can’t stop until he makes sure Sarah is safe.
Of course she isn’t, though. Why else would she be sending him nothing but red. He didn’t even know she could do that.
She’s still screaming when Alex arrives, and he watches Mark drag her out of the room. She’s trying to get away from him, to get back in the room.
She claws at him, her arms coated in that same slick red. Alex wants to go to her, to staunch the bleeding, but when her eyes lock on his, tears streaming down her face, there is no pain. Only fear. When she goes slack, Mark is able to get her out. A dozen people are standing around, staring either at Sarah or at whatever is in the room.
Instead of stopping to ask what’s going on, Alex goes into the classroom.
Something must be wrong with his eyes. It’s not possible for there to be this much red. The images Sarah had projected toward him hadn’t just been her fear leaching into her thoughts. No, her fear had been because of the images. People are not supposed to bleed this much.
A girl is lying on the floor, her white shirt drenched with blood. Her blue eyes are vacant as she faces the ceiling, her arms stretched out to her sides like an angel, but for the symbols carved into her skin.
His fire goes out immediately, and he freezes. When Cynthia was murdered, he had something to go after. Helen had been right there, ready for his attack. He shouldn’t have hesitated. He should have killed her right there. Now, Kendall is lying in the blood that seems to be everywhere except inside her.
Someone else is yelling behind him, but nobody breaches the doorway. Why isn’t anyone else helping her? He finally moves toward her. He falls to his knees, the blood immediately soaking into his clothes, his skin sticky. He timidly reaches for her, moving his hand to close her eyes, but when his fingers brush her cheek, she drags a breath in. The movement jolts him into action.
“Call an ambulance!” he shouts, hoping someone hears him. He puts his hands on her cheeks. “Kendall, stay with me. You have to stay awake.” His eyes dart down to her bare arms, and he has to find a way to staunch the bleeding. She’s barely alive as it is, and if she keeps bleeding, the paramedics will arrive to a dead girl. Even if he’s successful, she still might die. She drags another breath in, far too long after the first.
There’s only one immediate method he knows will stop. It won’t hurt her. She’s a pyromancer, too. The thoughts aren’t quite convincing enough, but he lays his hands on her arms. Bright blue flames come to life on his palms, and he gags when he smells the burning flesh. Kendall doesn’t react. She just keeps staring at the ceiling, tears creating pale streaks through the blood on her cheeks.
He sits her up so she’s not lying in blood, but her hair has been dyed red by it. Her skin is slippery against his, but he holds tight.
When her eyes flutter shut, he begs, “You have to stay awake. Just a little longer. Open your eyes.” Sirens are clear in the distance, getting closer every moment. Every beat of his heart pounds through Alex, and he has to breathe through his mouth to keep out the scent of copper and burning. It’s the longest five minutes of his life. Longer than when he found Cynthia.
He doesn’t leave her, not when the paramedics put her on a stretcher, not when they’ve got her in the ambulance, and not when they arrive at the hospital. He keeps her hand in his, and he can’t stop talking to her. “Remember how David looked when he saw you at the dance? Wasn’t it funny that we saw you at Imo’s the first day of school? Hey do you remember the first time we met? You came into class last year and looked terrified, but David just started talking and probably hasn’t stopped since.”
Her eyes stay distant, but he’s afraid that if he stops, she’ll stop breathing altogether. It isn’t until a nurse pulls him away at the hospital that he loses sight of her. The nurse leads him to an employee restroom and gives him a change of clothes—mint green scrubs—and it’s only then that he remembers he’s covered in blood.
“Take your time,” the RN says gently.
He changes quickly, tossing his ruined uniform in the garbage. He’ll find a way to afford a new one. Maybe he can pick up work at the diner over break. Right now, though, he just needs it to go away. He won’t be able to touch it without feeling the remnants of today.
He sends Gabby a text after wiping his phone down with a baby wipe. She finished her last final yesterday, so she wasn’t at school this morning. He explains the whole situation, leaving out the blood.
It was bad. Sarah needs someone to be there, he says instead of gory details.
On my way! She replies almost instantly.
“You did a good job,” the nurse says when he comes back out. “Not many kids your age would’ve been able to do what you did for your friend. Or most adults, for that matter.”
She takes him to a small waiting room, and he waits. Hospitals always make him uncomfortable. The waiting room smells overly sterile, and he keeps picking at a chip in the fake wooden arm of his chair.
Another text from Gabby comes in. Just got here. LOTS of cops. Total chaos. Some guy in a suit is pissed. Has no idea how this happened, etc etc.
Alex responds. Take care of Sarah. You know how bad she can get. He keeps seeing her clawing at Mark, arms dripping with Kendall’s blood. She’d been a wild animal, uncontrollable. She needs someone who’s good with emotions right now.
When a tall, blonde woman not much older than Alex runs into the waiting room and collapses into a seat across from him, he recognizes her immediately as Kendall’s older sister. Her makeup is smeared, and her hair is a mess, but it’s definitely her.
He stands up and goes to her, his heart racing.
“Heather?” he asks.
The girl looks up slowly.
“Are you a nurse?” she asks, her eyebrows bunched in confusion. Alex is definitely too young to work here, and it’s obvious to anyone who looks past the scrubs at his face. She isn’t really looking at him, though. Her eyes look straight through him, her face puffy and red. His phone buzzes with another text, but he ignores it for now, although his hand tightens around it.
“I’m a friend of Kendall’s,” he replies, ending the sentence with a question mark. He shoves his hands in the teal pockets of his borrowed outfit. It makes sense that Heather doesn’t remember him—he’s only ever seen her from a distance. It’s not like they ever hang out at Kendall’s apartment.
Heather just nods, but she doesn’t move from her seat. Alex looks around at the empty waiting room before sitting next to her.
This text is from Elizabeth. Thanks for sending Gabby. We didn’t know what to do.
Is Sarah okay? he replies.
Three dots pop up to indicate that Elizabeth is writing a text, but then they go away for a full minute before returning. This happens three times before the next message comes in.
She will be. We think.
After what must be hours, a dark-skinned man with black hair braided down just past his shoulders walks in, knocking on the wall. He’s wearing the same scrubs as Alex, but with a white coat. “Kendall’s family?” He asks, looking at his chart.
Heather and Alex stand at the same time.
“She’s going to be fine,” the doctor says. “We were able to suspend her in a time spell long enough to do a blood transfusion.”
Heather lets out a sob and wraps her arms around the doctor. “Thank you so much,” she says, her voice shaking.
“You should be thanking this young man. If he hadn’t cauterized the wounds, I’m not sure there’s much we could’ve done.” Heather looks at Alex again, this time taking him in. After assuring Heather that she’ll get to see her sister soon, the doctor leaves and she collapses back in her chair.
“Mom and Dad aren’t even coming,” she whispers, her breath hitching. He can’t think of a single thing to say, so he just pats her on the back. “They can’t get out of the Virgin Islands because of a tropical storm.”
He sits next to her. “What’s important,” he says slowly, carefully, “is that you’re here for her. And she’s gonna be okay.”
She puts a hand on his cheek. He mascara is making black streaks down her face, and her eyes are still red. “What’s important is that you saved her life.”
After another half hour, a nurse leads Heather back to see Kendall.
Alex checks his phone, and, just as he unlocks it, a new tex
t comes through from Gabby.
Get here ASAP.
Phillip picks him up and takes him to his car, and Alex thanks him before speeding the whole way to the Halacourts’ house.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sarah
SARAH HIDES UNDER HER BLANKETS TO KEEP out the flashing blue and red police lights. Arthur is absolutely huge—after only a week, he’s grown to nearly the size of a golden retriever. She strokes his soft, fluffy white baby feathers that have begun to give way to rigid pine green ones, and his wings are beginning to grow their golden flight feathers.
Gabby did something to her earlier, tracing her hands over her back and pulling away her fear and anxiety over the afternoon.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. There are so many measures in place to protect everyone, to keep intruders away from St. Merlin’s. According to Gabby, Kendall is going to make it. That doesn’t mean she’s going to be okay. Nothing will be the same after today. How naive could she be to think this would all blow over? She’s spent her time going to dances and kissing a boy while girls are dying.
She should’ve done more. She should have found a way to keep Kendall safe. Maybe made her stay away from St. Merlin’s for a while, or ensured there were police watching out for her. Instead, she’d brushed off the vision as soon as it was clear that, in the moment, Kendall was okay.
She was so wrong. She should’ve done something. Worked harder to find Helen. Faced her stupid fears. Her heart rate begins to rise again. Her stomach churns, but she doesn’t move. If she doesn’t move, she won’t puke. Maybe.
There are voices outside her room, all hushed tones. About her. About the murders. About how she’s probably going to die because if St. Merlin’s isn’t safe then nowhere is. They swirl around her, penetrating her mind. Not the voices of her friends and family, but the voices she heard before. Back when Gina was murdered. They’re telling her things, horrible things.
