by Skylar Finn
27
The Purest Heart
“What are you doing here?” Cameron asked, helping me to my feet.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, slightly dazed after our long dark crawl had led us to the least expected person imaginable.
“You’re in my shop,” said Cameron, still staring at me, incredulous. I looked around, utterly confused. There we were in the stockroom, surrounded by boxes and clothes. I heard a light thump as Tamsin jumped to the ground behind me.
“It must be on a magical boundary,” she said, gazing around in awe. “I knew it!”
“You knew what?” said Cameron, his incredulous gaze shifting to her.
“Wait, what?” I said.
“Remember when we first saw the light coming from the shop, and I thought that maybe it was the place that was magical?” she asked.
“Yeah, but...it was the clock,” I said.
“It wasn’t just the clock,” she said impatiently. “It was also the place. Otherwise, why would they have connected one of their tunnels here?”
“They?” asked Cameron. “Wait, who’s they?”
“The Never Was,” I said. “The assistants of Father Death.”
“Oh yes, and speaking of that guy,” said Cameron, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his toe on the ground theatrically in order to convey his impatience with me. “What exactly are the two of you doing crawling around in the walls and popping out in the middle of the storeroom?”
“Cristo is performing the ritual to stop time, and we have to stop him,” I said over Tamsin’s objections. She didn’t know I’d already told Cameron our biggest secret. “And I need to leave, right now.”
“Well, that was...succinct,” said Cameron. “Wait, where are you going?”
“I have to get to Peter,” I said. “Before they do.”
“Sam, you can’t take them on alone,” said Tamsin. “You need help.”
“If I can get to Peter first, I won’t have to.” I waved my hand and released the red smoke signal for Suki. Cameron blinked, startled. He rubbed his eyes.
“You have to stay here and wait for Suki and Janice,” I said. “Tell them they have to perform the counter-ritual now, before it’s too late. They might need your help.”
“But what if they already have Peter?” demanded Tamsin. “Then they’ll get you, too.”
“And then you’ll be in a position to stop them,” I said. “What’s more important? The lives of two people, or everyone in the world if Father Death is successful? Either you perform the counter-ritual and save both of us, or you can save everybody. It’s a win-win situation.”
“What if they need you, too?” asked Tamsin. “What if my magic isn’t enough?”
“Tamsin, I have no idea what I’m doing,” I said, flashing back to my clumsy scramble to disembark the crawl space of doom, while Tamsin remained perfectly calm. It still didn’t occur to me to use magic when I could in order to save or help myself. I could never fully accept that it was an option. “I think that much is clear. I can do things when I try, but it’s like you said--you’ve been doing this for eighteen years, right? I have the best chance of finding Peter. And you have the best chance of performing this spell.”
I could see Tamsin struggling to come up with a counter-argument and failing.
“You know that I’m right,” I said. “Please don’t waste any more time trying to stop me from going. If I leave now, maybe I can get there first. Wait for Suki. I’ll come back here.” I paused. The words if I can were running through my head, but I elected not to say them out loud.
Tamsin gave me a look. I could tell that she had heard them, anyway. “Okay,” she said grimly. “I’ll wait. I’ll perform the counter-ritual. But Sam, if you die--I’m gonna be really, really pissed at you.”
I smiled. “I’ll be right back,” I promised.
“No!” Cameron wailed. “That’s exactly what they say in horror movies! Right before they never come back!”
I hugged him and then Tamsin. Then I ran from the store into the night to find Peter, before it was too late.
There were three obvious places to find him: at home, at work, or at the Sports Page. I called him as I ran from the shop and the call went straight to voicemail. He often kept his phone on silent when he was working, so it felt safe to assume he was doing something work-related. If he was following up on a tip, he could be anywhere in the city. But it was late enough that he’d probably left the office, and early enough that he might still be at the local watering hole, swapping theories with his buddy on the likely guilt of Cristo.
I tried to imagine the vast interconnected tunnel system through which Lindy and Magdalena moved. If there were only a handful of designated spots where they could emerge, where might they be right now? I told myself they would have to find Peter just as I did, and would probably check the obvious places first--his apartment, his job--whereas I knew there was a strong likelihood that he wasn’t at either of those places. Which meant that we still had a chance.
I took a Lyft to the Sports Page and went in through the back gate. I scanned the patio. I didn’t see Peter anywhere. I tried calling him again, but his phone was still off.
It was a slow night and the patio was nearly empty. There was only one guy slouched over the bar, sipping a pint glass. I vaguely remembered him from a previous evening at the Sports Page during which Peter had introduced him as a co-worker and he spent the next hour referring to me as Pam.
“Steve?” I approached him uncertainly. I hadn’t exactly taken the trouble to remember his name after he couldn’t be bothered to learn mine.
“Earl,” he said, glancing over at me. “Close, though. You’re Peter’s girlfriend, right?”
I pushed aside my intense dislike of Earl, the least of my worries. “Have you seen Peter?” I asked. “It’s an emergency.”
“Well, I’m not really supposed to say,” he said, squinting. He looked about five beers deep. “But if it’s an emergency…” He shrugged. “I’m pretty sure he’s out looking for you.”
“Do you know where he went?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No idea. We got a beer to celebrate that crooked freak
getting thrown into jail and then he rushed off. Said something about how now that it was safe, he wanted to find you and tell you in person.”
“Wait, what? Cristo is in jail?”
“Yeah, he got caught check kiting, of all things, but it wasn’t exactly his first offense, if you know what I mean. I’m still not entirely convinced the guy’s a murderer, but the important thing is, he’s in a holding cell. He’s gonna have a lot to answer for if he doesn’t have an alibi for the nights those girls went missing.”
My mind raced. Cristo was in jail, which meant that the ritual couldn’t commence. The tension seeped from my body as I registered this fact. Peter was out looking for me, which meant that he was probably on his way to Tamsin’s dorm. But for right now, we were safe.
“Thanks, Steve,” I said, already turning away.
“It’s Earl,” he called after me.
“Who cares,” I said under my breath as I left the patio.
I was halfway to Tamsin’s dorm when my phone vibrated in my pocket. PETER, my screen said. In my eagerness to answer, I almost dropped my phone.
“Peter?” I said. “Where are you?”
“Hey, I’m at home, where are you?” he asked. “I just went by Tamsin’s dorm and that roommate of hers told me she hasn’t seen you guys.”
“I was looking for you,” I said, giving him the abbreviated version of events.
“It’s okay, Sam,” he said. “You don’t have to worry anymore. Cristo’s in jail, he’s being questioned. Everything is going to be okay. Where are you now?”
“I’m at the Sports Page,” I said.
“Quite the investigative journalist.” I heard the smile in his voice. “Are you coming back?”
“I just have to meet Tamsin really quick first,
” I said. “We have a quick errand to run, then I’ll be back.” Thinking, we just have to quickly perform a counter-ritual with another coven of witches, then I’ll be back.
“Okay, well, I have a surprise for you,” he said. “Whenever you do get back.”
“Okay, I’ll see you soon.” I hung up the phone, a silly grin across my face. Not only was Peter safe, but Cristo was in jail and the end of the world was no longer nigh. The counter-ritual would stop Lindy and Magdalena right in their devious tracks. I just had to summon some pretty powerful magic and hopefully not mess it up in the process.
When I got back to the shop, it was dark and quiet. The front door was unlocked. Tamsin and Cameron were nowhere to be seen.
“Guys?” I called to the darkened shop. “I have good news. Cristo’s in jail, and Peter’s okay.” No response. I ventured further into the shop. “Guys, are you here?”
My words were met with silence. An icy feeling crept its way down my spine, from my neck to my back. I reached out and turned the switch on the tiny Tiffany lamp Cameron kept next to the register. It wouldn’t come on.
Spooked, I flipped my palm over and tried the spell I’d seen Tamsin perform in the tunnels beneath the city. I closed my eyes and felt a warm glow in the palm of my hand. I opened them. A small blue orb glowed in my hand.
“Hello, Sam.” I glanced up to see the silhouette of a woman in the dark.
“Suki?” I squinted. “Is that you?”
The figure stepped closer. I could just make out the outline of her face in the glow of the orb in my hand. Not Suki. Not Suki at all.
“Amelia?” I was confused. “What are you doing here?” Even as I asked her, a series of thoughts raced across my brain: Amelia is not who you think, she is obsessed with Peter, she is here to Fatal Attraction you and boil your bunny on the stove and then kill you.
In my defense, as Tamsin previously established, I did not have a lifetime experience of witchcraft to inform my observations and decisions. I did, however, have a wealth of unrealistic Hollywood movies to inform my actions.
“‘Amelia?’” she mimicked me and smiled. “That’s cute, Sam. I have found you to be adorable, if somewhat naïve, in my interactions with you.”
“I’m sorry?” I reached for my phone. “You know, I think the store is closed, if you--”
Amelia gave a lazy wave of her hand. My phone shot out of my pocket and smashed against the far wall. “That won’t be necessary, I don’t think. I think it should just be me and you, don’t you?”
“Is this about Peter?” I asked nervously.
“Peter!” She laughed. “Oh, Sam. It was so easy to mislead you. Obsessed with protecting your loved ones over yourself. Filled with self-loathing and self-doubt. Convinced that you are useless when you are one of the most powerful witches of the age. I barely had to defeat you. You defeated yourself.”
She waved a hand over her face. Amelia was gone, replaced with Lindy. She waved a hand again. Now Cristo stood before me. Which was impossible, because Cristo was in jail.
“A bumbling art fraud,” he said. “A lonely girl, new in the neighborhood and in need of a friend. The beautiful barista downstairs. I can look like anyone. Anyone at all.”
A terrible feeling dawned on me. I remembered my blithely happy and optimistic conversation with Peter only a few minutes ago. I was amazed at my own stupidity. Peter, who I would probably never see again.
“But there is only one Father Death,” he said. “And now I’ve led you here, to
claim what I need for my ritual: the purest heart. Yours.”
28
Decisions
“Mine?” My voice was faint. I remembered Les’s words outside the co-op: You have the purest heart of all.
“Obviously.” Father Death sighed, as if I was too helpless for words. “Did you really imagine it was your boyfriend, leaving you alone when you were at your most vulnerable to pursue his idea of greatness? Or that irresponsible, selfish cousin of yours? Obsessed with male attention to the degree that she chose it over you? Laughable, really. Or was it you, bending over backwards to protect them at any cost? Really, Sam, you mustn’t blame yourself. If it is the fault of any, I would attribute it to the selfish, self-absorbed people who surround you.”
He raised a hand in the air. A series of blue beams slithered from his fingertips across the floor, distributing themselves across the windows and the door. I backed away slowly, towards the stockroom. Father Death smiled lazily, as if it made no difference whether I tried to run or not.
“In case you were wondering,” he said. “There is only one Never Was on this plane.”
I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I turned and flinched, revolted, as Magdalena slithered into the room. She halted at Father Death’s side, his trusty servant.
“The others are, in fact, real people,” he continued as he finished fortifying the windows and the door with his bright blue beams of light. “Well, most of the time they were. Sometimes, they were me. When I needed information, or when I needed to give you an idea about something. Or when I needed you to lead those damnable guardians of time astray.”
I found my voice. “What do you mean?” It wasn’t that I was especially interested to learn how I’d been hoodwinked over the last several days, but like anyone in a sticky situation I couldn’t see an immediate way out of, I thought it might buy me more time.
“I planted the pictures at the school, and in that artless idiot’s darkroom when I wore the face of Cristo,” said Father Death. “It was I who read your ‘fortune,’ not that bumbling dime store psychic. I eavesdropped on your conversation in the café with the time witch, Sister Moon. I believe you know her as Suki.”
I remembered Amelia--or what I thought was Amelia--singing in the corner with her earbuds in, seemingly oblivious.
“I led you here tonight, as Lindy,” he said. “I needed to make sure you were in the right place at the right time, so I allowed you to believe it was you who were following me. You were so preoccupied by the thought of protecting your true love that you couldn't even see that you were being led.”
I thought of chasing Magdalena and Lindy through the tunnels, thinking that I was saving Peter, when I was being led right into a trap. And so were Tamsin and Cameron, thanks to me. I felt sick.
“It was exciting to watch, really,” he said. “You believed that if you learned the truth in time, you could save everyone around you. But you never had the larger picture. Only I did. You chased a series of fragments while I predicted your every move, leading you here.” He shook his head, as if he pitied me. “Even your greatest allies deceived you! Had Sister Moon told you the truth from the beginning, you might have stood a slightly better chance. Do you know how easy good people make it for me to succeed, when all you do is deceive one another?” He smiled. Each of his teeth ended in a sharp white point. “Very easy.”
“So it was you that we saw in the street the night that time stopped?” I asked, trying to conceal the tremor in my voice.
“Obviously,” he said. “The time witches are not the only ones who can stop time when they deem it necessary. Take a look.”
He made a sweeping gesture towards the back room and gave a little bow. I hesitated, then walked toward the door to the stockroom, dreading what I would find.
Tamsin and Cameron clutched each other, huddled on the floor, their expressions frozen in identical terror. My hand flew to my mouth as I tried not to scream. I heard a high, malevolent laugh behind me.
“Don’t worry, they’re not dead--yet,” said Father Death. “Not that I need them to be. I never understood the impulse to kill indiscriminately. I feel that each death should serve a divine purpose; otherwise, what’s the point?”
The shop was lit by the bright blue lights that crisscrossed the windows and the door. The lights pulsed so brightly they hurt my eyes.
“Don’t feel too badly about it,” said Father Death reassuringly. “There’s no sense in kicking yourse
lf for your simplistic mortal reckoning of the situation at hand. You were up against a being hundreds of years older than yourself; you were bound to lose. The game was, as they say, rigged.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“A salient question,” he said approvingly. “I like a human who gets down to brass tacks. First, I’ll remove your heart for my ritual. Magdalena and I will perform it at the stroke of midnight on this solstice. It will stop time forever, leaving your foolish race helpless and disoriented, their perceptions of reality shattered. I will emerge as a higher being, a god. All will bow to me. I will destroy the time witches and extract utmost loyalty from all remaining witches. Anyone who defies me will be destroyed.” He paused. “I think that’s about the gist of it.” He twirled a stray lock of Cristo’s hair contemplatively. “Unless, of course, you’d like to do this another way.”
“What other way?” I was certain this second alternative would prove even worse.
“Sister Moon never tells the full story of what really happened between myself and Mother Time,” he said with a little sigh. “Certain details get exaggerated; others get left out. We used to rule alongside of one another. We were equally matched, yet I was expected to defer. For what reason? I loved her with the love of a thousand lifetimes, and she never reciprocated my affections. She was cold, cold as the night sky in winter. She thought very little of disposing of me after working in solidarity with me for centuries. It was highly vindictive. I felt betrayed.”
“So what’s the alternative?” I asked.
As he spoke, I worked through the possibilities for escape in my mind: find a way to unfreeze Tamsin and Cameron and escape into the crawl space. Hope that Suki received my signal and would be arriving any moment with Janice. Try to contact my family, hours away, and ask for help. Each possibility seemed less likely than the last.
