Hallie closed the book and looked up at Wyn. How much had Wyn suffered? First from Kat’s death, then from Hallie’s distancing?
Hallie could fix it all, she knew she could. Like it never happened.
She needed to find a royal. And perhaps she already knew one.
***
Nathan never returned to the library.
After Wyn and Hallie had finished looking through the books, gleaning as much information as possible from their pages, they closed up the secret room as if they’d never been inside and headed for dinner.
But Hallie could barely sit still for that long. Her mind was running frantic circles, filled with all the new information. Maybe she could find Arion, connect to him somehow, convince him to help her resurrect Kat. They shared grief; maybe he would be sympathetic.
Unfortunately, there was little evidence in the book about Arion, other than his parentage.
But there was one place Hallie might find a few clues. One place with a name she knew and history she could learn.
She returned to the demesne with Wyn after dinner, but since it was already so late, Wyn went directly to bed.
Perfect.
Hallie climbed into bed at the same time, listening to the rain pattering on the leaves overhead as she feigned sleep. She waited until her friend’s breathing grew slow and steady, then crept out of her own bed. She threw on clothes and a jacket to ward off the chill and damp, then slunk from the room.
Hallie kept her steps to the soft moss lining the path through the trees, hoping it would silence her approach enough for even Fae ears. She hastened past the demesnes, out to the meadow path she had followed with the pixies.
They didn’t accompany her tonight, and she felt more alone than ever. The drops of rain fell on her cold skin, but she could barely feel them through the numbness.
She was just approaching the top of the rise when she caught another sound, muffled by the rain.
Crying.
She diverted off the lavender path and darted for the birch tree line, following it to the ancient forest and its stones. She could still hear soft sobbing, but she was close now, so close that she feared taking the final steps around the tree trunks. Instead, she braced herself against the wet, rough bark, barely feeling the bite through her numb fingers, and leaned around its girth.
Someone knelt in the soft loam before a slab of granite no taller than her knee. Around the stone, bright blue flowers, their blooms drooping like sad bells, glowed in the overcast mist, casting their pale light around the glen. They poked their heads through the moss growing over the marker, and the small pond glimmered behind it, its surface rippling with the falling rain. The sobbing came from the figure before the stone, and Hallie sucked in a breath.
Not just sobbing. Talking.
“I never wanted this,” came his voice, conversational as if someone sat just on the other side of the stone, his voice thick with tears.
It was Nathan. The Fae who held her bargain. Who wanted to take her knowledge of what they could do. Who wanted to keep her from restoring Kat to them.
The Fae who might just hold the secret to bringing Kat back.
But as her eyes fell on his hunched shoulders, his knees in the mud where he knelt, something else stabbed her heart. Sympathy. Empathy.
This was a memorial. And not like the large memorial with the statue. No, this had to be a grave marker.
And then the pelting rain and the damp and cold faded, and her memory took her back to a similar place, the center of a cemetery.
It was raining then, too.
***
Two Years Ago
Hallie adjusted her sunglasses, discreetly swiping tears from her eyes.
That was one thing about funerals. Even when it was raining, no one questioned the people who wore sunglasses. It was like a badge of mourning. Proof of pain. A shield from prying eyes and questions.
The service had been small, short. Less than Kat deserved.
She should have said more. This never should have happened in the first place.
She wrung a tissue in her hands, shredding it to pieces as the pastor said the final words at the graveside. She barely heard him. Her mind replayed their last moments together, those final minutes before the other car had slammed into them.
She had been so angry. And so had Kat.
A hand alighted on Hallie’s shoulder, soft as a butterfly. She looked up to see Wyn, her antlers arrayed in black and white ribbons of mourning, her chunky sunglasses perched on her deer-like nose. She looped her arm through Hallie’s, but Hallie stood numb, unable to respond, unable to reciprocate the comfort.
If it hadn’t been for Hallie, none of this would have happened.
And she couldn’t even tell Wyn. Wyn would be furious. How many times had she told her how dangerous the Fae were, even though she was one of them? Yet Kat had kept Hallie’s desire secret right up until the end.
Until it killed her.
***
Present
“What are you doing here?”
Chapter Twelve
At first, Nathan’s words didn’t even register. Hallie’s entire being was caught up in memory. In guilt.
All of this was her fault. It all came back to her and her stupid decisions.
Nathan spoke again. “Hallie? Are you all right?”
“What?” Hallie finally looked up at him, pushing the memory of the funeral away.
“You’re crying.”
How could he tell? She barely felt the tears herself and was sure they blended with the rain.
“So are you,” she bit back instead, swiping at her face.
He sighed. “What are you doing here?”
She swallowed. If she told him, he might block her from searching the memorials.
“Research,” he answered himself, running a hand through his soaked hair and leaving tufts sticking up. “Of course it is.”
Hallie took a step forward, desperate to take the attention off of herself. “Are you all right?”
He didn’t answer but took a seat on the bench opposite the memorial where she had found him. Tentatively, she joined him, not even caring when the puddled water soaked through her dress.
“Who was it?” she asked, eyes on the blue bell-shaped flowers. Their glow was peaceful, if sad, and somehow sharing the sadness comforted her.
“My mother.” His voice was flat, emotionless, but his eyes were still red-rimmed and puffy.
She sucked in a breath. “I’m so sorry.”
For a few moments they sat in silence. Hallie’s mind raced. Why hadn’t he petitioned the royals to resurrect her? They had the power. Why wouldn’t they use it even on their own?
Unless she was right and Nathan was a prince, but then why wouldn’t he just resurrect her?
“They say those flowers are magic, you know.”
“Hmm?” Hallie looked up from the stone, her thoughts broken. “What do you mean?”
He almost smiled. “There’s a legend that the bells can hear us. Can take our words to the dead and allow the dead to look back at this world. It’s why we plant them at every gravesite.”
Hallie looked around the glade. Sure enough, all the smaller markers had blue flowers glowing around their bases.
“That’s really nice,” she said. Would it work with humans, too, or did their magic only work for Fae?
He was silent for another few moments, and Hallie bit her tongue. She had thousands of questions, but it felt wrong to ask them now. To break the solitude of this place. The rain continued to fall, the white noise blotting out the sound of the frogs in the pond.
“I barely knew her,” Nathan began again.
“Your mother?”
“Yes. I was so young when she passed. But every day...every day I feel the pain of the loss regardless. Like my body knows she is missing. Today is even the anniversary of her death. It’s always harder on the anniversaries.”
For a moment Hallie didn’t speak, but then
the words were there, screaming for her to let them come. “I can understand that. I lost someone, too.”
Now Nathan half turned on the bench to look at her. “I’m sorry to hear it.”
“Not a mother,” Hallie said quickly. “Nowhere near as terrible as that.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. She should really learn when to bite her tongue.
“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Every loss hurts. How can we judge someone else’s pain?”
She opened her eyes, feeling the weight rising just a smidge from where it had rested in her chest for two years.
She blinked back tears. “You know what my first discovery was.”
He paused, taken aback by her subject change. “Yes.”
“So why didn’t anyone bring her back? Your mother.”
He sighed, a long, shaky sound. “It’s not as simple as it sounds.”
She turned to face him. “Why not? Doesn’t the royal family care at all about their people? Why wouldn’t they resurrect one of their own?”
“So you know about that, do you?”
“Yes.”
He stood and offered her a hand. She took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. He pulled her hand through his arm, hooking it in his elbow as he directed her past the pond to a path that led deeper into the dark woods.
“You’re only human, so there is much about us you don’t understand. That you can’t understand unless you’d been raised here.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke.
Their feet splashed through puddles and mud on the trail.
“I suppose that’s true,” she admitted. “But from an outsider’s point of view, it seems awfully cold.”
He nodded in acknowledgement. “That may be true.”
For a few steps neither of them spoke.
“The War of Courts was a dark time for the Fae,” Nathan said. “Its anniversary is today as well. A day of mourning in every Court. Did you know that?”
Every Court? A common day of mourning?
“No.”
“A long time ago there was only one Season in the Fae world. It was chaos, every homestead a different weather pattern, every region going from winter to summer within a day. But four Fae lords decided they wanted their own land, to order the chaos and establish boundaries. Each had their own special brand of magic, their own desired demesnes. But they couldn’t agree on how much land each Court could possess. And so the War began.
“It was the longest and bloodiest war in Fae history. Now, mind you, we’ve never been terribly peaceful creatures. But this...this was something no one had seen before or since. Thousands died. My mother among them. On the very last day of the war.
“It’s when the Spring surrendered, accepting the smallest amount of land and seeing both Summer and Winter encroach on their territory every year. Each Court set up new borders, though the lords still squabble over them every year. It’s nowhere near as violent as in the past, usually settled with arguments or games of wit.
“Anyway, despite the huge losses, the Spring could not bring anyone back. There are...rather dire consequences to restoring a life.”
“Why?” Hallie demanded. She could hear the harshness in her tone, the cold unbelief, the pain. But she could feel the anger building behind her own ribs. “Why can’t you? Why won’t you?”
Nathan looked around, as if searching for something, then followed fresh footprints behind a rock. At the base of the rock, a tiny mouse lay bloodied and lifeless, paw prints and claw marks surrounding it.
“You need to understand just what it is you’re asking.”
Nathan released Hallie and raised a hand. Ribbons of green and white light streamed from it, touching the ground around the mouse. Blades of grass shot up out of the mud, fresh and bright. Tiny flowers and white mushrooms bloomed in a circle.
The tiny body spasmed, then scrambled to its feet, whiskers twitching.
Yet its wounds did not heal, and its eyes filled with a cold glow, clouded over with death despite its movement, its apparent life.
It looked straight at Hallie.
It lunged, teeth out.
Hallie squeaked and ducked back, holding her arm between herself and the furious animal. Her heart slammed into her sternum with fear, her body going even colder in the rain. What had happened to the mouse?
Nathan swept a hand above the creature, and the patch of life, the grass and flowers, faded as the mouse collapsed back to the ground.
“Souls do not wish to return from the afterlife,” he said simply. His face was stormy, and she could hear the anger under his words. “Their time here is done, and they do not react well to being forced back to this existence. And, as you saw, their bodies do not regenerate upon waking. That takes more magic, and the pain of its wounds drives the soul to fury. It does not wish to wait. I told you magic had a cost. Now you understand.”
He turned on his heel, rushing back down the path and out of the forest, leaving her in the mud beside the lifeless mouse.
Chapter Thirteen
Hallie sat crouched in the muck for too long, her eyes fixed on the mouse. If Kat came back, it wouldn’t really be her Kat, would it?
Hallie couldn’t stop the cry that broke free of her throat. She couldn’t stop the wrenching sobs that followed either, just like she couldn’t fix anything. Not anymore. Never again.
She would never be free of the guilt.
***
Two Years Ago
Hallie squeezed her eyes shut against the words pouring from Kat’s mouth. She hoped Wyn truly was asleep or passed out in the back seat. She couldn’t bear to have her only two friends hate her.
“You’ve done a lot of stupid things over the years,” Kat hissed, “but this takes the cake, Hallie. You can’t find a Fae to bargain with. What do you think Wyn would say?”
Hallie glanced at Wyn, but she still seemed as out as she had been when they left the bar.
“You can’t expect to solve this with some magic spell just because you’re worried now.” Kat slapped the turn signal, and Hallie flinched. “You should have just listened to us in the first place.”
“You don’t understand. My parents already think I’ve been accepted.” Hallie hated the pleading in her voice, but she couldn’t seem to stop it, just like she couldn’t stop the hurt, angry tears. Why had she thought Kat would understand? She’d gotten into every single one of her grad school choices.
“Well then, maybe you should have thought of that before you only submitted one application. Or maybe before you told everyone you’d get in. Or maybe you should’ve just told your parents the truth.”
Hallie winced. The truth? That her chances of getting into Sabine were low? That the program was too small and there were too many applicants?
It was too late. She’d already made the mistakes. And Kat might not have realized she’d already called for a Fae. She couldn’t stop one from showing up now, if it did.
“You don’t understand,” Hallie said again, crossing her arms and glaring out her window pointedly.
The lights flashed by outside, and she could feel Kat’s anger flooding off her in waves. Yet Hallie wouldn’t break the silence, and Kat wouldn’t even glance at her.
Kat blew by a stop sign, then rolled to a stop at the next light, the red light painting her face the color of her fury. In no time, the light was green and Kat was turning.
Headlights.
Tearing metal.
Blood.
Darkness.
All of it, Hallie’s fault.
***
Present
“Hallie?” Wyn crouched down next to Hallie where she rocked in the mud. A little pixie fluttered off. It had probably led Wyn to her. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”
Hallie couldn’t look at her. She squeezed her eyes shut, finally feeling the hot tears coursing down her cheeks, and shook her head. “It was all my fault. And I can’t even bring her back.”
Wyn took a deep breath, then
dropped into the mud with her. “Who are you talking about, Hal?”
Hallie buried her face in her arms, pulling her muddy knees closer to her body.
“Is it Kat?”
Hallie sobbed harder.
“It is.” Wyn sighed loudly, louder than the rain that was now pouring down the leaves, through the branches, drenching the two girls. “Hal, it wasn’t your fault.”
“You don’t get it!” Hallie shot back, nearly shouting. “It was my fault she didn’t see him!”
“What are you talking about? Hallie, it was an accident. That guy messed up. It was on him. How can you take the blame for this?”
“I made her mad! I did a stupid thing, said stupid things. We were fighting. If I hadn’t riled her up, if she’d been able to focus on driving, she’d still be here!” Hallie couldn’t stop the tears coursing down her cheeks or the sobs wracking her, blurring her words in the drunkenness of pain. “You never knew about that fight.”
“Yes, I did,” Wyn said softly.
Hallie’s wracking sobs settled. “What?”
“I heard it all, Hal. I knew about the fight. I knew why you fought. I was right there, even if you thought I didn’t hear it. It still wasn’t your fault.” Wyn wrapped an arm around Hallie’s shoulder. “But what was your fault was what came after.”
After. The bargain. The drifting.
It really was Hallie’s fault.
“I know,” Hallie said softly. The tears continued coursing down her cheeks like a broken dam. Years of pain, of guilt, of shame, all leaving her body at once. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Wyn.” Hallie made to stand, to move away from her friend, her words coming softer now. “I’ll understand if you never want to talk to me again. If you’d rather stay here. I deserve that.”
Wyn stood with her, grabbing her elbow before she could step away. “Oh no, you don’t. I’m not going anywhere. I just...” Her voice cracked. “I want my friend back, too.”
“I can’t bring Kat back.”
“Not Kat. You.”
Hallie finally looked at her. “How can you forgive me?”
Seasons of Magic Volume 1 Page 21
