by A. W. Jantha
“Good girl,” Mary says. “This really is what’s best. We promise.” She smiles in a way that I’m sure she thinks is nonthreatening.
I hold out my hand, fist still clenched tightly.
Winifred holds out her own, ready to snatch the blood moonstone from me.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Telling myself that this is the right move, that this is how we get out of here alive, I open my hand and pitch the precious object over the side of the railing, down toward the sharp rocks below.
With a collective gasp, the Sanderson sisters turn, leaning over the railing, trying desperately to see where the stone landed.
I take their distraction as an opportunity to move away from Winifred and closer to Isabella, hoping that I have at least a few seconds before they figure out that it was Katie’s car keys and not the stone at all, which is snug in my other pocket.
It’s only a second before Winifred rounds on me, though, arm raised, dagger in hand, and eyes burning with a kind of rage that is both unnerving and surprising, even from her.
“You,” she growls, voice low and dangerous. “You’ve ruined everything, you stupid, insolent little—” She lunges.
Isabella steps in front of me, shielding me as she casts a bolt of lightning at Winifred, which knocks Winifred backward.
Winifred looks stunned for a moment before her features return to anger, and she lifts her hands, casting her own bolt in our direction.
Isabella doesn’t hesitate, and her bolt collides with Winifred’s in midair with a shower of sparks and a bone-chilling crackle. Behind Winifred, Mary and Sarah seem to be trying to hide behind one another, but they only keep bumping into each other.
Faces grim with concentration, Isabella and Winifred struggle to battle for the upper hand, neither quite getting it.
I look on, unsure how to help, when Isabella chances a glance at me.
“Now, Poppy!” Isabella shouts over the crackling of the lightning, then nods her head in the direction of the water, the shore, and the rocks below. It takes me a moment as I try desperately to put together what she’s trying to say. But then it clicks.
“Oh. Right.” I stick my hand into my pocket, this time withdrawing the real blood moonstone. Pulling back my arm, I launch the stone into the air, tossing it high above the water in a quiet, graceful arc. I pray this works. “You yap—” I shout to Winifred.
The movement catches Winifred’s eye and she wavers, her attacks on Isabella interrupted as she watches the stone soar through the air. “The stone!” Winifred shrieks.
“The stone!” Sarah echoes. “The stone, the stone, the stone!”
Mary’s mouth tenses. “Uh-oh,” she mumbles, eyes wide.
Winifred is stunned, face frozen in disbelief.
Isabella doesn’t waste a second, though. “—we zap!” shouts Isabella. As soon as the stone’s clear of the tower, she shoots a bolt of lightning straight for it, and the bolt and stone connect almost immediately in midair.
The result is blinding.
As the yellow bolt strikes the stone, it lets off a brilliant, searing white light that blooms in a halo around it. It lights up the water, the tower, the trees, and the witches scrabbling below.
The Sanderson sisters draw their hands up, covering their eyes, howling.
The light hangs there for a long moment and the air around us goes still and silent. It’s like the world’s on pause as we look on, squinting against the intensity of the display. The water’s parted off the shore like there’s a massive crater in it that goes all the way to the rocky and sandy bed below. Then, all at once, the halo of light begins to rush back toward the stone in a radiant flash. The water rushes back with a roar, collapsing in on itself.
With a deafening whoosh, a shockwave barrels from the stone, rushing toward us with tremendous force. I reach out and grab the railing, hoping it’s strong enough to withstand the blow.
To my left, the Sanderson sisters are scrambling, trying to stay on their feet as the shockwave makes landfall.
On my right, Isabella is doubled over, hands on her knees, exhausted from the effort. She doesn’t even see it coming.
I open my mouth to shout at her, to warn her, but it’s too late.
The shockwave reaches us like a tidal wave, and Isabella’s hit with the full force of it.
There’s no time to think about it, no time to calculate odds or make a plan. There’s just this moment, this force, and Isabella being swept away from me. So I don’t think.
I let go of the railing and dive forward, reaching for her, wrapping my fingers around her forearm. And then, at the last possible second, I throw my other arm out and barely catch the railing, holding on as tightly as I can.
The Sanderson sisters are swept off the tower with a bloodcurdling yowl.
“Hold on!” I shout to Isabella above the noise.
She grabs on to my forearm, holding tight as the shockwave lifts us both away from the lighthouse tower, floating, anchored only by my grasp on this centuries-old railing.
After a few seconds that seem to drag on for minutes, the shockwave passes, and we begin to fall.
For a brief moment, I’m positive that we’re about to fall from the tower or crash into the rusted, steely exterior or, if we’re really unlucky, both.
But then Isabella lifts a hand and, with what seems like herculean effort, conjures a bolt of lightning like a rope, her brow furrowed in concentration as she directs it, wrapping it around the tallest point on top of the tower (and far away from the metal railing). I can feel the charge of electricity where our skin touches. It doesn’t hurt, really, but it feels like my entire body is vibrating with energy. Sort of like that too-much-coffee feeling amplified by a thousand.
Isabella pulls us toward the balcony with a final surge of energy, and we clatter onto the deck. It’s not a soft landing, but it’s better than a bed of sharp rocks a long, long way below.
I lie still for a moment, trying to figure out if anything’s broken.
Bruised but otherwise intact, I pull myself up.
“I-Isabella?” I stammer.
Next to me on the deck, Isabella lies motionless.
My heart stops.
“Isabella?” I try again, louder, moving toward her. “Isabella, can you hear me?” With one hand on her shoulder and the other on her cheek, I try to wake her up.
But nothing happens.
No.
Hot tears splash down my face.
I shake Isabella again, feeling her neck for a pulse. “Please, no. Please,” I sob.
She remains still, and my world shatters into a million pieces.
My whole world is spinning again and it’s like every ounce of breath has left my lungs all at once. My vision blurs with tears. This can’t...she can’t...I didn’t even...
A pained groan.
Isabella opens her eyes slowly, blinking. “Magic...sucks...” she manages to get out. Then she pushes herself up, leaning against the tower wall, and cracks a small smile.
“Oh, thank god,” I breathe, throwing my arms around her neck and pulling her in, holding her tightly. “I was so afraid that—” I don’t finish the thought.
Isabella wraps her arms around me, too.
Behind us, the light still spins, creaking and groaning with every rotation and bathing us in warm light that’s now just this side of blinding.
“Yeah,” Isabella says quietly, “me too.”
There’s a long beat of silence as we stay like this, grateful to have survived but afraid of what comes next.
Our families. Our friends. The rest of the town. Are they just...
“Look,” Isabella says, pulling back but keeping an arm around my shoulder. She points toward the trees and the ground far below.
There, in the faint light of predawn, hundreds of green wisps appear and extinguish. Stunned witches give way to humans. One by one, dazed citizens of Salem appear, taking in the trees, the still-churning water, and the e
arly morning light.
“Travis,” I say quietly, standing and looking over the edge of the railing. I don’t see him, not among the growing crowd of humans trying to piece together what’s going on. He’s not by the trees or the boathouse or the gate.
And then I hear him.
“Poppy!” He jogs into view from the base of the tower, waving his hand above his head, beaming.
“Travis!”
I grab Isabella’s hand without thinking and pull open the door to the balcony, flying down the now cracked and crumbled spiral steps two at a time until I’m on the ground, bursting through the door.
He’s there, grinning, and I throw my arms around him, hugging him tightly.
Laughing, he does the same. “Worried, were you?”
“Just a little,” I say, shrugging nonchalantly.
“Glad you’re okay, Travis,” Isabella says, pulling him into a hug.
“Thanks,” he says, grinning. “The highway to Hell is shorter than I thought.”
Isabella and I groan in unison, rolling our eyes, but I can’t fight the smile creeping across my face.
“Dennison, what the hell are my keys doing in a tree?”
Katie rounds the corner, trying and failing to pull off her signature scowl before breaking into a grin.
No one is more surprised than I am when I step forward and hug Katie, who hugs me back, even if it’s just for a second before she steps away.
“Looks like you did it, weirdo,” she says, but there’s no hint of malice in her voice. She smiles, somewhere between impressed and relieved.
“Couldn’t have done it without you, Katie,” I say truthfully. “Thanks. For sticking around.”
She plays it off, but I can tell it means something to her. “Yeah, well. You’re right. You definitely couldn’t have done it without me,” she says. “I mean, I was kind of a badass.”
“You were,” I laugh.
Travis and Isabella hug Katie in turn, and I’m about to ask whether this means our friend group is growing by one more when I hear something that stops me.
“Max, don’t touch that,” comes an irritated voice from the other side of the boathouse.
It’s a voice I’d know anywhere.
“Aunt Dani?” I whisper, almost afraid to believe it. I follow the sound of the voice, slowly at first, then picking up speed until I’m jogging around the side of the lighthouse. There, near the dock and the rocky shoreline, are Mom, Dad, and Aunt Dani.
Dad is crouching near the ground, picking up what looks, from afar, like a piece of broken glass. As I get closer, I see it’s a shard of the blood moonstone, glowing faintly.
“Poppy,” Mom sighs in relief, rushing forward to gather me into a crushing embrace. “We were so worried.”
“Same,” I laugh, relieved. “You have no idea.”
Aunt Dani and Dad stand behind Mom, grinning.
“Looks like you pulled it off, kid,” Dani says, beaming proudly. “Told you you could do it.”
Dad puts a hand on my shoulder, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles. “You did good, Poppy,” he says. “We’re so proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I say, relishing the feeling. I look back over my shoulder to see Isabella talking animatedly with her parents, Travis gathering as many of his siblings up into a hug as he can, and Katie and Principal Taylor having what looks like an uncharacteristically warm conversation. “I didn’t do it alone,” I say, turning back to my family.
“You’re still grounded, though,” says Mom.
“Oh, totally,” Dad nods. “Very grounded.”
“What?!” My mouth drops open. “But I brought you back from the literal pits of Hell!”
Aunt Dani smirks. “Riiight. But you also sort of sent us there, so it was really the least you could do.”
I open my mouth to issue a rebuttal, but I stop short when I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“Poppy?” says Isabella from behind me.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” she says, looking unusually shy.
I turn to follow Isabella, who leads us around the other side of the lighthouse, away from the crowd and closer to the water.
“I just want to thank you,” she says, turning to face me. She talks fast, as if she’s only mustered twenty seconds’ worth of courage and doesn’t think she can fit everything in before it runs out.
“For what?” I ask. “I didn’t do anything. I mean, you destroyed the moonstone. You were incredible.”
She gives an emotional snort, tears pooling in her eyes. “So were you. Poppy, you were a hero today.”
“I mean, ‘hero’ feels like a strong word, but I’ll take it,” I say, smirking. “It was a team effort.”
She cracks a smile, but just barely. “Sorry, I’m just...bad at this.”
“Isabella Richards, bad at something? Never,” I say jokingly. But it’s clear that she’s actually trying to tell me something. “What’s going on, Isabella?” I ask.
She’s staring at the ground, so I dip my head to look her in the eyes.
“Hey,” I say. “What is it?”
In truth, I feel like I kind of know what’s going on for the first time in weeks, but I can’t tell if it’s all just in my head. All this time, Isabella stood up and did the right thing. She went all-in to help me fix everything, and although there were many things I liked about her before, tonight has shown me that there are seemingly endless things to like about Isabella Richards.
Her eyes are shiny with tears as she looks at me, and I want to wipe them away, but that seems too intimate.
“Look, Poppy, I’m so sorry. For everything,” says Isabella. “I had no idea that the Sanderson house and the spirit board would lead to...” she trails off, looking down at the ground. “I can’t believe you almost lost your family because of something that I did.”
“Hey,” I say again, tilting her chin up gently so that I can see her eyes, which are shiny with unshed tears. “You couldn’t have known. This wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who insisted we follow through.”
She takes a deep breath. “It was my idea, though. And I just...I’m sorry that being my friend almost got you killed.”
“Worth it,” I say with a shrug, trying to play nonchalant. “Though...I’m still a little confused as to why the coolest girl in school wants to hang out with me at all.”
Isabella smiles a little and looks up at me. “Come on, Poppy,” she says. “Can’t you tell?”
My emotions are suddenly spinning out of control. “Can I?” I feel confused, and I’m fighting like hell to keep myself from giving in to hope here.
“Yeah,” she says shyly. “You’re a cool girl, Poppy. And you’re beautiful. And I like that you have dreams that are bigger than Salem, but you still love this place. I like that you try to see the best in everyone. I like that you’d do anything to protect the people you love—including battling a coven of evil witches on top of a lighthouse tower. I like you.” She pauses, her eyes huge and dark. “This has been the strangest, scariest night of my life, but I got to spend it with you...and strange and horrifying as it was, I wouldn’t take it back. Not a second of it.”
With that, she leans forward, pressing her lips to mine.
Her breath is soft and warm, and when her lips touch mine, I feel a crackle of electricity. It moves from her hands to my hands and up through my arms into my chest, and my heart soars. She puts one hand on my cheek, and an electric current races through my veins, thrilling but not painful.
I’ve never been kissed before, but I know this is what a first kiss should be. A movie theater kiss, blown up on the big screen. A kiss for the history books. A kiss that feels like...
Well, a bit like magic.
We pull apart, but her hand drops to mine.
“Me too,” I say awkwardly. “I mean, I like you, too. A lot.”
We grin at each other, and Isabella looks down at her feet again. I’ve never seen her so vulne
rable, and it makes her even more beautiful. I want this moment to last forever.
Aunt Dani comes around the corner and smiles when she sees we’re holding hands. “Hey, you two!” she calls out. “Let’s get home and eat! I’m starving. Plus, I haven’t had one single cookie of your mom’s, and I was in Hell for”—she checks her watch—“way too long.”
We turn and walk back down the hill toward my family, Isabella’s arm brushing against mine. Halfway down, I glance over at her, and she gives me a little grin.
Dad is waiting for us at the bottom of the hill, and Principal Taylor stands by his side. As we get closer, I can hear the two men talking.
“I’m sorry I left you hanging that night, Jay,” Dad says. “That wasn’t right.”
Principal Taylor looks a little embarrassed, but he takes a deep breath and looks Dad in the eyes. “It’s all right, Hollywood,” he says, smiling. “Ancient history now. I mean, that was an entire Witchpocalypse ago.”
He extends his hand, and Dad takes it, shaking it heartily.
“Too right. Maybe we shouldn’t leave all the hope and change to the kids,” says Dad.
Aunt Dani races ahead of us toward Mom and Dad. “Hey, Allison, how much party food do you have left? Because I could really go for a junk food brunch. Plus, we haven’t really wrapped up the Halloween festivities yet, so it’s not too late to watch our favorite Halloween movie.”
Mom and Dad both groan.
“Come on!” she cries pleadingly. “It’s a cult classic. We’ve watched it every Halloween since we were kids!” She shoves her way between them and links arms with them. “It’ll be fun!”
I can hear them sigh, and I laugh to myself. It happens every Halloween, and every Halloween Aunt Dani gets her way.
I look at Travis, Isabella, and Katie. “We did it,” I say proudly. “And if we can save Salem from a trio of evil witches, we can do anything.”
“Together,” says Isabella with a smile.
“Together,” I repeat happily.
“All right, saps, we get it,” says Katie, rolling her eyes but cracking a smile. “Four’s a coven, right?”
Ican’t believe you have us back here already, Dennison,” says Katie, stooping to examine a headstone that’s almost invisible under the cloudy night sky. “In a cemetery less than twenty-four hours after the invasion of the Real Witches of Inferno County. Bold move.”
