Moon Magic

by Madeline Freeman

  Lexie’s eyes widen in shock, but I don’t linger to enjoy the expression. Pivoting on my heel, I cross to the front door. I yank it open and call over my shoulder, “You can show yourself out.”

  I don’t look back as I stalk across the lawn to my car. She’ll see. Everyone will see. Dana and I are going to get our abilities back.

  We have to.

  Chapter Ten

  Krissa

  I enter the last number on the final page of inventory I’ve been working on for two shifts now. Although I usually enjoy the mindless, repetitive task of counting items in the store, I haven’t been able to lose myself in the monotony as well as usual today. For once, being done with this particular assignment is a relief.

  Jodi is at the register, cashing out a customer. She smiles as she converses with the older woman. There is an easiness in the way they banter back and forth that I envy. How long has it been since I was able to talk with someone like that? Even with Tucker and Griffin, I don’t feel I’m that free, and they’re really the only people I talk to anymore.

  The customer waves at Jodi before crossing to the door. The bells tinkle as she steps out onto the sidewalk. For the moment, Jodi and I are alone.

  My head down, I cross to my aunt and set the clipboard onto the counter. “I’m all done. What would you like me to work on next?”

  Jodi doesn’t respond right away, and against my better judgment I glance up at her. She’s studying me, the way she has countless times before. If she were a psychic, I would be worried she were trying to read my thoughts. In a way, I suppose that’s exactly what she’s attempting, except she’s reading my body language. After a beat, she sighs. “You’re so industrious when you’re here that I don’t know if there’s anything left to do. I never thought I’d say this, but maybe you need to not work quite so hard.”

  “If you don’t want to pay me for doing nothing, I could leave early,” I offer.

  Jodi raises an eyebrow. “Why, you got plans tonight?”

  I shake my head. Typically, on nights I work I just go home after my shift. Occasionally, I’ll go to Griffin’s, but he’s working late tonight. Even though Tucker will probably be at his apartment, I won’t go if Griffin isn’t there.

  “Your dad mentioned you were home after curfew again last night.” There’s no edge of accusation to Jodi’s voice. She’s simply relaying a fact.

  I nod. “I didn’t even have a curfew until he got back.” I’m not telling her anything she doesn’t already know. In fact, I overheard her talking with my dad after he instituted the new policy. She tried to convince him that I’d gone this long without a specific time to be home and everything had worked out fine. For his part, Dad had been polite, but he gently reminded his sister that I was his daughter, not hers.

  Jodi’s face goes thoughtful, like she’s considering her next words carefully. “Until recently, a curfew was never necessary. You always came home at a decent hour on your own.”

  I bite back a groan. Did Dad put her up to this? He’s not getting anywhere with me, so he sends in a replacement? I’m ready with my practiced defense. “How many times have I been late to school? Are my grades slipping?”

  The questions are rhetorical, and Jodi doesn’t bother answering them. “I’m just saying things have been different since you’ve been spending so much time with Griffin and Tucker.”

  I know she has a point, but I refuse to concede it. “It’s not like hanging out with Griffin is anything new. Need I remind you, he’s been a member of my circle as long as I have.”

  “Your circle?” Jodi’s eyebrows arch. “Does your circle even exist anymore? I didn’t think the witches had been meeting up since the binding spell was broken. And I haven’t heard you talking about any of the psychics besides Tucker.”

  “If you have something to say, say it.” I’m not in the mood to dance around the subject. If Jodi wants to know something, I wish she would just come out with it.

  Jodi’s face softens. I bristle at her expression. It’s much too close to pity for my liking. When she talks, her gaze doesn’t quite meet mine. “Look, I don’t know all that happened that night. Your dad seems to think it’s easier for everyone that way. All I know for sure is that something changed in you the night Seth died.”

  I do my best not to flinch at his name. She knows he’s gone, of course. She may even assume the truth. But, so far as she’s concerned, it was my dad’s responsibility to get rid of him. He spent five years away from us so he could learn how to take on the combined powers of the psychics and witches in my circle. It was his plan to take Seth off guard by him being the one to cast the spell to trap him in a crystal once more. But things went sideways when Bess Taylor, who was inhabiting Crystal Jamison’s body, told him our plan, ruining the element of surprise. Dad fought as hard as he could, but in the end, Seth was stronger. He was about to kill my father, and without the use of my abilities, I did the only thing I could. And I haven’t regretted it for a second. That fact is the one that’s so difficult to deal with. What kind of person kills someone without any remorse?

  I know the answer: An evil person. That darkness lives inside me. Of course I haven’t been able to go back to the girl I was before that moment. She’s gone, and I don’t know if I can ever get her back.

  I realize I haven’t responded. “What do you want me to say?” There’s no use denying it. She’s right. Telling her what I’ve done won’t change anything. I’m not sure what she wants from me.

  Jodi comes out from behind the register, moving until she stands in front of me. She reaches forward, brushing my upper arm with her fingertips. I can tell by the look in her eyes that she would like to do more—pull me into her arms, hold me, hug me—but she knows I won’t let her. “I know you have your reasons for spending so much time with Griffin and Tucker. You don’t do anything without a reason. But maybe it’s time for you to reconnect with some of your other friends. I know Crystal already has a lot to deal with, and it might be awkward to talk with Fox, but may be you could spend some time with Lexie or Bridget.”

  I snort. I’ve never been particularly close with Bridget Burke or this reality’s version of Lexie. I can’t imagine going to either of them for any reason.

  Seeming to realize this, Jodi presses her lips together. “How about Felix? The two of you seemed to be getting closer before everything went down. Or maybe Owen—”

  I shake my head at this suggestion almost before it leaves her lips. I can’t go to him the way I am. Since the day we met, he’s been an unwavering light of goodness in my life. I can’t inflict myself on him, not with the darkness that’s festering inside me. And Felix, with his happy-go-lucky demeanor—how can I talk with him after what I’ve done?

  Jodi opens her mouth to say something else, but before she can, the bells above the front door tinkle as a new customer walks in. The forty-something man is barely two steps into the shop before he’s calling out a question in Jodi’s direction. She holds my gaze for a beat longer before crossing to him, her hand indicating the direction they should go to find what he’s looking for.

  Although Jodi didn’t officially say I could leave early, I take her distraction as an opportunity to do just that. I have no desire to continue this conversation once this man leaves.

  What she doesn’t realize is I’ve had this conversation numerous times in my own mind, and each time I’ve come to the same conclusion: My friends are better off without me in their lives. I’ll hang around Griffin and Tucker for the companionship they provide, confident I won’t negatively impact either one of them. Neither one possesses the purest of hearts, so I can expect them to accept me. Honestly, they are the only ones I can expect that from.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sasha

  I scan the posts in yet another sub-forum, looking for any indication that someone in the thread actually knows what they’re talking about. The laptop perched across my thighs is growing warm, creating a sheen of sweat between me and the machine. I s
hould open the window overlooking the street, but the April air has a bite to it today that I’d rather not deal with.

  I’ve lost track of how many discussion boards I’ve read in the last few days, each one more obscure than the last. After my lunch date with Anya and Elliot, I spent the evening piecing together memories of what I’d heard about the group with an interest in Bess Taylor. It took some creative online research, but eventually I came up with a name and a purpose. The group call themselves the Amaranthine Coven, and their driving desire is immortality.

  Immortality. I actually didn’t believe it when I first strung the pieces together. I figured I had something wrong. But then I saw something in a post from several years ago that got me thinking maybe I was right after all. There was a reference to Bess Taylor. The poster didn’t mention her by name, but I knew the story well enough to know that’s who he meant. She was referenced alongside Seth—although, again, he wasn’t mentioned by name—and to my surprise, he wasn’t the focus of the story. Instead, it was Bess who took center stage. According to this person, she was researching ways to prolong life, even to the point of living forever.

  It wasn’t until after I found this that I remembered a cautionary tale my mom told me once when I was little. I had been in town with Sasha and Misha when I met a little ordinary girl. She and I got to talking while my sisters weren’t paying attention. When they saw me, they pulled me out of the store so fast I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to the girl. They yelled at me on the way home, but I didn’t understand why. The girl had seemed nice. Maybe all my family’s talk of the ordinary being so bad wasn’t right. When I got home, Anya reported what happened to my mom. Instead of yelling, she simply sat me down and told me stories. I remember one only vaguely. It was about how questioning what we knew to be true could be dangerous. There was a time, generations ago, when a sect rose up within the Devoted. This group insisted that Seth was not the one we should be waiting for. They claimed that Bess Taylor was more important, that she had information that could benefit our group more than Seth ever could. They were cast out for their heresy.

  But now that I’m researching, it seems that group may have become the modern Amaranthine Coven. And it seems that group is still waiting for Bess to return.

  What they don’t know is she already has. Even though she is no longer possessing Crystal Jamison, there’s a chance Crystal may know the information they seek.

  I tried to find the person who posted the story several years ago, but the trail quickly grew cold. That’s why I’m searching through new forums, hoping to come across something more recent.

  I’m about to close down this particular thread when something catches my eye. The reference is obscure, so vague I barely recognize it, but it’s worth a shot. I click on the username and type out a direct message. I keep my inquiry brief and veiled, just in case this person is not what I think he is.

  No sooner do I hit send than the doorknob to my apartment begins to twist. My muscles tense, ready for action, but then the door opens to reveal Elliot. My posture relaxes and I immediately feel foolish. Who else would be at my door? All this thinking about the Amaranthine has me on edge.

  Elliot grins, holding up a brown paper takeout bag. “I hope you’re hungry.” He closes the door behind him, heading to my kitchen before I even have a chance to respond.

  I shove the laptop’s screen down toward the keyboard and set it on the floor, edging it under the dinged end table. I spring to my feet and cross to Elliot, but his eyes look past me.

  “What are you up to?” he asks, not quite hiding a note of suspicion.

  I roll my eyes, forcing what I hope looks like a good-natured grin. As much as I don’t want to lie to him, I’m not ready to tell him the truth. “Maybe I’m shopping for your birthday.”

  He pokes his tongue between his lips as he pulls down two plates from the nearly empty cupboard. “Yeah, I buy that,” he mutters sarcastically.

  “What’s the occasion?” I ask, hoping the subject change takes. I’ve never been good at lying to him.

  “No occasion. Can’t I just come and have dinner with my best friend?”

  I shove his shoulder playfully before opening up the brown bag. Chinese food. I pull out the cartons and open each one. Elliot never orders the same combination twice, so I have to inspect all his selections before spooning portions out onto my plate. I finally settle on some kind of beef dish in a brown sauce. Elliot mixes some of the beef with a chicken dish over a bed of white rice. Once our plates are made, he starts for the small card table. I don’t know where he intends to sit, as it’s still covered with a variety of books and papers. Wordlessly, I lead him over to the couch.

  He follows without questioning my seating choice. We spend a few minutes in companionable silence as we apply ourselves to our meals. Half the food on his plate is gone before he speaks. “Lunch went well, I think. Don’t you?”

  I take my time finishing my mouthful of food before swallowing. “Yeah. It was nice.”

  Elliot nods thoughtfully. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how happy Anya is that you finally came around.”

  I do my best not to shift at his words. It’s not so much that Anya is happy that makes me uncomfortable, it’s that I know this change in me is also making Elliot happy. In truth, I’m surprised he can’t tell my interest in reconnecting with my sister isn’t genuine. Maybe he wants it so badly he refuses to see what’s right in front of him.

  The laptop dings. The sound is probably signaling a response from the forum poster. My fingers itch to grab the computer to see what he said. But I can’t do that, not now, not in front of Elliot. His posture tells me he’s already curious about the sound. If I jump to check the message, there’s no way he’ll let me get away with not telling him what’s up.

  I want to tell him. I want to tell him badly. But I can’t. If I’m going to have my revenge, Elliot can’t know—at least not yet. I have to be sure he won’t try to stop me. And as much as it pains me, I’m not right now.

  To stall for time, I take a bite of beef and rice and roll my eyes. “I’ll never understand why so many websites have sounds embedded in them,” I say after swallowing.

  He cocks his head. “What kind of site are you on that’s making noises?”

  “A naughty one, clearly.” I offer my best salacious grin. As anticipated, Elliot’s cheeks pinken. For as unsqueamish as he is in general, he’s never failed to express discomfort if ever I mention anything even remotely having to do with sex. Certain words are even off-limits if I don’t want to upset his delicate sensibilities: naughty, spank, lick, moist. Even in the most innocent of situations—as in, “This cake is so moist!”—Elliot shifts in his seat and averts his eyes until enough words are spoken or time has passed to sufficiently distance him from the offending syllable.

  Attempting to prove I haven’t affected him, he lifts another forkful of food to his mouth, but he can’t make himself follow through. He lowers the fork to his plate again, pursing his lips. “You’re just cruel,” he grumbles.

  “Hey, you asked,” I say innocently, feigning ignorance as to the source of his irritation. Goodness, I’ve missed him. These last months when our contact was limited and our interactions stilted was more difficult than I let myself admit. I’m so glad to have him back. I’m itching to tell him what I have planned, but now’s not the time. First, I have to get him to realize that he wants this as much as I do. He’s so busy trying to forget about the life we’ve lived up until now that he’s ignoring the fact that we have a duty to destroy those responsible for obliterating our hopes, for killing our families.

  He’s not there yet. I understand. Elliot’s always been more the sensitive type. He barely spoke for weeks after his uncle Nate was cast out of the community. I didn’t have that reaction when they sent Misha away. He even took the news of Anya’s death—false as it turned out to be—harder than I did.

  But eventually he always came around. I have to believe he will th
is time, too.

  After finally managing a few more mouthfuls, Elliot excuses himself to my tiny bathroom. As soon as the door clicks behind him, I snatch my laptop off the floor and tilt it on my lap so I can read the screen without moving it. Elliot is annoyingly observant, and while I’m relatively certain I can put the computer back in its previous position, I doubt I could get the exact angle of the screen right. Instead, I hunch and squint to make sense of the glowing words and glide my fingertip over the touchpad to direct the cursor to the envelope icon. Seconds after my quick tap, a new page loads and I scan the message. A smile curls my lips by the time I get to the end. From the poster’s response, I’m pretty sure I’ve found what I’m looking for. My fingers itch to send a quick reply, but a flush from down the hall alerts me to the fact my time is, for the moment, at an end. I hurriedly replace to computer in its former location on the floor and am working on a mouthful of food by the time Elliot returns.

  He eyes me curiously as he reclaims his seat. “What’s up? Why are you smiling?”

  I had hoped my expression would remain neutral, but, again, Elliot notices things. Besides, he’s a complete expert on my face, so any change must be obvious to him. I swallow my food and offer a small shrug. “I’m just glad you’re here.” While it’s not the reason I’m smiling, it’s also not a lie.

  Elliot stretches his hand across the space dividing us and squeezes my knee. “I’m glad, too.”