“So,” she said at last. “The hawthorn. Has the corruption totally overtaken what I did to it?”
He nodded, looking relieved to have something to talk about. “The idea was floated that you could potentially try to turn it to stone again, to stop the spread of the damage.”
“After weeks of you asking me to reverse it.” Harper shook her head. The irony of how quickly things had been flipped around was not lost on her. “My power isn’t reliable enough for that.”
“That’s what I said.” Justin sighed. “You, Violet, and Isaac are strong, but even combined, it isn’t enough to push back the corruption.”
“So you brought me here to tell me I’m not good enough?”
“No.” Justin reached into his backpack and pulled out a cheap pair of training swords. Harper recognized them immediately; the chipped paint on old wood. They were the same swords kids had used at the Founders’ Day festival, the day she and Justin had squared off and she’d disarmed him. “I wanted to try something new to unlock your powers.”
He held out a sword, and she took it automatically. It comforted her, as it always did—but for the first time, she wondered why. The power inside her was so much more dangerous than anything this blade could hold.
“Try something new?” she echoed hesitantly.
“I thought… maybe channeling your anger would help.” Justin hesitated, the words emerging slowly and carefully. Harper could see how much he’d thought about this. “You saw the Beast as me. You’ve tried discipline, you’ve tried training. But when you were upset with us, you turned that tree to stone. Your anger makes you strong—so go ahead. Be angry with me. Let’s fight the way you want to.”
Harper stared at him, her mouth dry.
For years she’d dreamed of such a moment, where they could square off as equals and she could show him what she was capable of once and for all. But he knew what she was capable of, and the world had already punished Justin Hawthorne far more effectively than she ever could. He was lonely and frightened, stripped bare of all the things that had made her so furious with him. Harper could not hate the boy who was left behind. She wasn’t sure what the answer to her power problems was, but she knew it wasn’t this.
“I don’t want to fight you,” she said softly, letting the sword fall into the dirt. “Not anymore.”
For better or for worse, Justin wasn’t the only founder who had fixated on Harper’s training. She got home from school that day to find Juniper waiting for her and Violet, whereupon Juniper led them up the stairs and through the trapdoor into the spire at the top of the Saunders manor. Harper’s spine tingled as she took in the white circle on the floor, the heavy curtains on the windows. The shelf full of dusty old books.
“So that’s where your family does their rituals,” she said, turning to Juniper Saunders. The older woman stood beside the velvet curtain, staring out at the woods, the crow’s-feet at the edges of her eyes crinkling with focus. She looked uneasy in here, which Harper supposed made sense. It had to be full of strange memories for her.
“It’s supposed to be a secret,” Juniper said. “But in light of the last few days, it feels like one you need to know.” Harper didn’t mention the fact that, though she’d never been up here before, Violet had already told her about it.
“Welcome!” Violet spread her arms wide. Orpheus’s head peered up from the trapdoor, all ears and giant yellow eyes, before the gray tabby loped cautiously into the room, following Violet as she gestured emphatically. “Here you’ll see the place where my entire family willingly traumatized ourselves for a hundred and fifty years. Please note the lovely aura of despair, as well as the circle that may or may not fling you into the Gray.”
“You’re being very flippant, Violet,” Juniper said, a slight note of disapproval in her voice. “Harper is the first non-Saunders ever to set foot here—this is a big deal.”
“You never took Augusta?” Violet drawled.
Juniper glared at her. “Absolutely not.”
Harper cleared her throat. “Then why me?”
The two Saunderses paused, turning to look at her. Harper was struck for the thousandth time by how alike their movements were, even though neither of them seemed to see it.
“Because,” Violet said finally, “I told Mom we could use your help.”
“And I agreed with her.” Juniper walked over to the bookshelf and pulled out a dusty wooden tube. “Your training has hit a bit of a wall, Harper. I’m sure you’ve noticed that.”
Harper nodded. Noticed was an understatement. Training sessions with both Augusta and Juniper had shown her that turning things to stone was not the problem. The problem was stopping, or reversing the damage, and she had yet to come close to figuring out either.
“It’s very clear that this block isn’t about ability,” Juniper continued. “It’s mental. For some reason, you aren’t ready to wield your powers. So today, I’ll be giving you both a little bit of a history lesson that might help you understand the stakes we’re dealing with here.”
Juniper pulled a large sheet of rolled-up paper out of the tube and spread it out on the floor, piling books on the edges to keep it flat. Then she sat beside it and gestured for the girls to join her. Harper understood immediately what she was looking at: a map of Four Paths, almost identical to the one the Hawthornes possessed.
It was illustrated beautifully, green-and-brown etchings of trees interrupted by tiny drawings of town landmarks. But there was a key difference between this map and the one the Hawthornes had.
Drawn over it, in sharp black lines, was the founders’ symbol: a circle with four lines cutting through it, not quite meeting at the center. The founders’ symbol sliced perfectly through the four landmarks Augusta Hawthorne had talked about: Harper’s family’s lake, to the east. The Saunders manor to the north. The hawthorn tree to the south. And the Sullivan manor in the west.
“You should update the map,” Violet said from beside her, tapping on the manor. “It’s just ruins now.”
“Not just ruins,” Juniper said, looking up at them. “It’s corrupted. Just like the hawthorn tree.”
Harper shuddered, remembering the corrupted lake she’d seen in the Gray. She’d never seen anything so grotesque, so wrong.
“Something is off about all of this,” Juniper continued. “I grew up in Four Paths. When the Beast acted on its own, its attacks were always random. But it’s clear by now that there is nothing random about the way the corruption is spreading.”
She tapped the map again, more meaningfully this time, and Harper understood.
“It’s targeting the founders.” It wasn’t a question. “The hawthorn. The Sullivan ruins. The sheriff told me those are important places for us.”
Juniper nodded. “That’s why we brought you to the spire,” she said solemnly.
“Because you think it’s next?”
“Because I know it is. Our spire, your family’s lake, and…”
She pointed at the center of the map: the place where the four lines did not quite meet. Harper’s heartbeat sped up. She knew exactly what was there, at the center of everything.
“The founders’ seal,” she said slowly. “Where the founders performed the ritual to trap the Beast in Four Paths.”
“Exactly,” Juniper said. “Augusta and I have a theory. You see, as of now, the corruption has not been able to spread outside the town borders. But we believe that if each of our ritual sites were to fall, it would destabilize those boundaries entirely. The Gray would collapse, and the corruption would spread beyond Four Paths. Which means we need to protect them at all costs. The sheriff and I have instituted a special patrol schedule for the rest of the founders that’s related to proximity. The three of us will be responsible for the spire at all times. Mitzi and Seth Carlisle will guard the lake, while the Hawthornes and Isaac will watch the town seal. We need to be proactive about this.”
“I understand.” Harper gazed around the room. It looked very
far removed from the forest. Now it was her responsibility to keep it that way.
“If we truly want to be proactive, we can’t just patrol,” Violet said. “These attacks are targeted at specific locations, which means there has to be a purpose behind them. Someone or something wants our ritual sites to fall.”
“I agree.” Juniper’s brow furrowed. “It’s possible someone is communicating with the Beast.”
“I don’t think the corruption is the Beast’s doing.” Harper hated the way they were both looking at her—with obvious disbelief. “I was in the Gray. I know what I saw—the corruption was hurting it, too.”
Juniper’s tone was not dismissive, exactly, but it was skeptical. “What else would target the places most important to our families?”
“I have an idea, actually,” Violet said. “The Church of the Four Deities wanted to help the Beast before. They communicated with it more closely than anyone else I can think of. Maybe the corruption is tied to them, too, somehow.”
Harper froze. Her mouth was dry, and she wanted a blade, a weapon, something to protect herself from what she could feel was coming next. “My dad doesn’t remember,” she said hoarsely. “None of them do. Even if they know what happened, they wouldn’t be able to tell us.”
“Unless someone gave them their memories back.”
Violet’s eyes locked on Harper’s, and Harper understood in that moment what they were both thinking: May Hawthorne.
“She could do it,” Harper said. “Do you think she would do it?”
“I don’t know,” Violet said. “And I’m not even sure that, if your dad does know something, he would tell us.”
“He would tell me.” He’d told Harper the truth about the Beast once before, after all, even though it had meant admitting to betraying her.
“Are you sure you could handle it?” Violet asked. “After everything…”
It would mean forcing herself to return to the home she’d been avoiding because of a mere hunch. It could all lead to nothing. But it could also stop the rest of their ritual sites from falling to the corruption. The thought of it made her residual limb ache, caused a swell of phantom pain. But just because she was frightened didn’t mean it wasn’t the right thing to do.
Harper met Violet’s eyes. “I can handle it.”
“You two have a plan,” Juniper said from beside them, crossing her arms.
Violet nodded.
“Is it dangerous?”
“No comment.”
“Could it help us?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.” Juniper faced them both down, and Harper wondered if this was what it was like to have a parent who focused on you instead of asking you to either be a weapon or a babysitter. “You’re both smart. You’re both capable. But you’re also seventeen. I know that I can’t just keep you away from what’s going on here—Four Paths has already demanded so much from you. But I want to make sure you’re as safe as possible.”
“None of us are safe,” Violet said. “And none of us will be safe until this is over. The town’s in danger—you have to trust us.”
Juniper did the last thing Harper was expecting then: She smiled.
“Many years ago, I let this town defeat me. Perhaps it’s high time we became the ones who do the defeating, instead. So tell me about this plan of yours.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Isaac had stood on the front porch of the Hawthorne house a thousand times, waiting impatiently for Justin to pull open the front door. But today, for the first time, he could not bring himself to ring the bell.
The more he thought about how he’d behaved at Justin’s birthday party, the more ashamed he felt. He’d spent the past few days letting his humiliation eat away at him before his guilt finally drove him to his friend’s front door.
A text or a call didn’t feel right. He had to apologize in person. But when he finally got up the courage to ring the bell and Justin actually answered the door, Isaac realized he had no idea what to say.
“Hey,” he muttered, addressing Justin’s socks. “Can I come in?”
Justin’s pause felt like it lasted a lifetime, but finally he nodded. “Yeah.”
They wound up in his bedroom. It didn’t smell great—Justin was a fan of Axe, which Isaac figured could double as a pesticide—but there was still something comforting about the line of wrecked running shoes along the wall, the faded posters tacked up above his unmade bed. A tower of unopened textbooks were stacked sloppily on the desk beside a laptop with a FOUR PATHS HIGH SCHOOL sticker in the middle.
Isaac stared glumly at the sticker, where a tree twined through the words. It was their mascot, the Mighty Oak, because how dare one thing in this town not be a reminder of the forest.
Trees don’t run, he’d complained to Justin years ago. It’s a ridiculous symbol for any athletic team.
What do you care? Justin had fired back. You’d rather poke out your own eyes than join an organized sport.
It had been so easy back then. Talking to Justin had felt effortless. But now there was so much more between them, and it was all Isaac’s fault. He’d confessed his feelings; he’d lost it at Justin’s birthday party. It was hard for him not to think about how he’d messed up a good thing—except it had never been good for him. Not really. It was just that Isaac hadn’t brought up the problems, and now neither of them could pretend they didn’t exist anymore.
“I’m sorry,” he began, sitting in the desk chair after Justin plopped down on the bed. “For ruining your party. For losing control.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not the only reason the party was ruined,” Justin said wryly. “That thing was dead in the water the moment the entire town ghosted me.”
“Right. About that. Are you okay?”
It was a ridiculous question. Justin didn’t bother answering it.
“Are you?” he asked instead. “In the forest, Isaac… you looked rough. Violet said you destroyed an entire clearing.”
“It wasn’t my finest moment.” Isaac ran a hand along the side of the desk, trying not to think about the way those trees had crumbled beneath his palm. “But I’m not here to talk about me. I’m trying to apologize to you.”
“I don’t want an apology,” Justin said. “I hate this. You’re being so formal, showing up at my door, looking at me like you don’t even know who I am anymore—”
“Of course I know who you are,” Isaac snapped. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to talk to you.”
“You open your mouth and the words come out, it’s not that difficult—”
“It is when it’s you.” Isaac sighed. “Look, when I told you how I felt… I don’t know if I weirded you out or made you angry, I don’t even know why you invited me to your party—”
“Because you’re still my best friend, you asshole.”
The words hit Isaac like a sledgehammer. His chest burned from the weight of the pain in Justin’s voice.
“Oh, fuck you,” he whispered. “You know you’re still my best friend, too.”
Justin’s voice shook. “Then why aren’t we okay?”
Isaac hesitated. There were too many answers. Because they cared so much and they still couldn’t get this right. Because there was so much they’d done wrong, and how did you make a friendship feel equal when it had started with one of them saving the other one?
Maybe the only way was to find a new foundation. To build it again. But he had no idea how to do that.
“Because it can’t be the way it was before, Justin,” he said at last. “Because I have to know that it’s going to be different.”
Justin’s voice was suspiciously raspy. “It isn’t going to be different. It already is, because you already are.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t need me anymore,” Justin said softly. “Gabriel’s back in town, and you never even asked us for help. You and Violet are always hanging out. Hell, you helped Harper of all pe
ople open the Gray and you didn’t even invite me.”
Justin was right, Isaac realized. He’d skulked behind the Hawthornes for years, a shadow, a protector, trying to pay them back for taking him in after he’d destroyed his home and his family. But all that dependency had meant that he’d always felt he had nowhere else to go. And it had left him afraid to fall—afraid deep down that if no one caught him, he’d crumble into ash just as easily as the trees. But Isaac was finally ready to look head-on at the thing he was most afraid of. Not Justin, not his mother, not his brother, not his powers. Himself.
“I don’t know if I’m actually different,” he said to Justin. “But I’m trying to be.”
“So am I,” Justin said. It struck Isaac how absolutely exhausted he looked. Dark circles, greasy blond hair, a cluster of zits budding on his nose. Justin had gone from Four Paths’ de facto choice for future prom king to a total pariah because of a secret he had chosen to tell the whole town. And yet he still hadn’t reached out to Isaac for help, or to whine. He’d respected his boundaries. He had only tried to come back into Isaac’s life when he’d seen him falling apart.
Maybe the people they were turning into could be friends. Maybe the only way to find out was to give it a chance. But Isaac didn’t know how to say any of that, so he settled for something easier.
“I know why you actually want to be friends again,” he said aloud. “You just want me to do your homework.”
Justin shot him a tired smile. “You got me.”
“Unfortunately for you, I’m not doing my homework anymore either.”
“Perfect,” Justin said. “We can fail senior year together. Get held back.”
Isaac snorted. “We can’t graduate with May. She’ll never let us live it down.”
“You’re right,” Justin said, swinging down from the bed and sidling over to the dresser. He picked up their history textbook and swung it open, the spine cracking in a way that suggested he had never actually done so before. “Guess we’d better get started.”
Isaac didn’t leave the Hawthorne house for another two hours, and although the textbook was open between them that entire time, they didn’t read a single word.
The Deck of Omens Page 17
