by Pat Esden
She sighed, wishing Devlin was with them.
Jessica turned on the TV and Athena streamed an old movie. The Hallmark version of Merlin. Chloe curled up under a throw blanket, too happy to move.
“Magic has no power over the human heart,” Merlin or someone in the movie said.
“Guess the producer wasn’t familiar with love potions.” Em snickered.
Chloe laughed along with everyone. But her thoughts once again went to Devlin. His apartment was so close by. If only he was there, then she could crawl naked into bed with him. Run her fingers over his beautiful jawline. Touch his lips. Feel his lips against her body. Get lost in the purr of his magic and make love until they were both exhausted. Wake up next to him and do it all over again.
“Want a refill?” Jessica said, bringing her attention back to the room.
“Sure.” She held out her glass. “I think I like this better than the May wine.”
“No accounting for taste,” Jessica teased.
Em shifted forward in her chair, staring at the TV as if hypnotized. “What do you think Merlin will look like? Old or young? Handsome or not so much?”
“Merlin can shapeshift,” Athena said, popping open another bottle of wine. “If I were to guess, early thirties, old enough to look wise, young enough to attract the ladies.”
Chandler scoffed. “We’d be safer with a wise old crone version of him, then.”
“Speak for yourself,” Em interrupted. “I like the sounds of young, hot, and magical.” She cut a look Chloe’s way and giggled. “You like them that way too, right?”
Chloe looked down, her face burning. There was no question everyone knew she and Devlin had gotten together, but she wasn’t used to her hookups being made so public. In a way it felt good. She laughed. “I’m with you about the hot and magical. But not so much when the guy’s my teacher. I mean, that is technically what Merlin’s going to be.”
Athena turned the sound down on the TV. “It’s fun to joke about these things. But we need to remember that Merlin will know nothing of our world. We’ll be as much teachers to him as he is to us, at least at first.”
She turned the volume back up and Chloe closed her eyes, listening to the movie and everyone’s hushed voices as they commented on it. And Chloe drifted into sleep and dreams.
A line from the movie echoes in her head: “He will bring people back to the old ways.”
“Magic was more common then,” Athena whispers in her ear.
Chloe is at the quarry, standing on the diving ledge. Below her, the half-moon’s reflection shimmers on the gray water. But the reflection isn’t normal. It forms the shape of a luminescent yin and yang, absolutely perfect, unmistakable. On the distant shore, the pine trees stand motionless. No wind. No sound. Everything is waiting for her to make a choice. To jump. Or turn and leave.
Excitement sends a chill across her skin. She leaps, plunging downward, her motion cutting the stillness of the air, her feet and legs an arrow piercing the heart of the yin and yang. She plummets into the watery world, an otherworldly blurred place with waterfalls and bridges. The entire Northern Circle is there, their magic trailing out behind them like a school of phosphorescent fish. Midas’s eyes glisten gold. Jessica clutches a basket of blackbirds. Athena holds a staff that looks like Merlin’s in the movie. Devlin stands in the middle of them all with his back to her. But when he turns around, she can see it’s not him. It’s Merlin. Young. Hot. Magical. Just like Em wanted. His eyes flash from green to blue like embers deep within a fire, secrets waiting for her to discover them, ancient grimoires begging to be opened.
Something vibrates in her pocket. Her phone.
She reminds herself that it’s important to answer such things even in dreams. The voice on the other end might tell her what this is all about. It could be Devlin. She’d get to hear his voice. She could tell him about Midas and Jessica’s phone.
She presses the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Chloe Winslow?” Devlin’s grandfather’s voice says.
Whereas a moment ago she could breathe despite being underwater, now the lack of air sears her lungs.
“Don’t forget the boy,” he says.
She knows he means the Vice-Chancellor’s son.
And all she can think about is how the boy must have felt, his lungs filling with water, unable to breathe, blood vessels bursting in his brain. Someone should have been able to stop that. Someone like her, with magic at her fingertips.
She races for the water’s surface, breaking through. She gulps air. But there’s no yin and yang of moonlight now, only velvety darkness as silent and eternal as the inside of a casket or the sheets on a hospital bed.
Chloe woke with a start. She lay on the couch in her underwear, shivering from the cold. She found the throw blanket on the floor, wrapped up in it, and snuggled back into the couch cushions.
Traces of early dawn brightened the room. Used wine glasses and bottles lay on the floor. The end tables were covered with pizza boxes and candles burnt down to their stubs. But despite the room’s disarray, she felt good. No hint of a hangover. Well-rested. Utterly peaceful. Undoubtedly that was an off-shoot of the healing ritual’s magic combined with having some downtime. The only thing that could have made her feel better was if she had woken up next to Devlin.
Taking the blanket with her, she got up, hunted around, and found her clothes and messenger bag waiting on the side table. She took out her phone, her heart sinking when there weren’t any messages from him. But there were a ton of texts from her mom.
You okay? the last one said.
Not bothering to read the rest, Chloe checked the time: 7:15. Her mom would be up.
She slumped back on the couch and made the call.
Her mom answered on the first ring.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Chloe, you’re all right.”
“Of course, why?”
“You didn’t answer my texts.”
She rubbed her free hand across her eyes, wiping away sleepy seeds. “Did you get mine—about the box? You’re going to love the straws.”
“Yes. I’m sure. When you didn’t answer, I was afraid something happened to you. I tried calling.”
Chloe thought fast. “Ah—I was studying. My phone was turned off.”
“I was afraid it might have had something to do with that awful coven. Your dad told me they invited you to—”
“They aren’t evil, Mom. They’re nice people. Serious witches.”
“You didn’t go to that event, did you?” she said, aghast.
A headache began to pulse in Chloe’s temples. She pinched the bridge of her nose to stave it off. The truth was, Devlin’s grandfather knew she’d been at the complex. If he mentioned it in passing to his witch friends, it would get back to the High Council. In turn, her father would inevitably hear about it. “It was my choice to make. You’d like them. They’re smart.” She swallowed hard, then took a chance. “They are exploring ways to integrate ancient magic into modern medicine.”
“Please tell me you didn’t do something foolish like join them?”
“Don’t worry.” She closed her eyes and regrouped. “You should get the box I sent you tomorrow or the next day.”
“That’s wonderful, dear. But promise me you won’t jump into anything you’ll regret. Act responsibly.”
“I’ll be fine. Love you, Mom. I have to go.”
“Love you, baby.” She hesitated. “Please, no more disasters.”
Chloe stashed the phone in her bag and stared out across the room. The crystals they’d used to heal Em glistened in a bowl on the coffee table. She thought back to the rainbow-colored magic racing around Em and streaming into her body. It seemed almost unbelievable in retrospect. Merlin’s magic. They were going to awaken him, then change the world. Old magic. Cures for modern dis
eases and conditions that had been lost to time. The wisdom and magic of Imhotep, Hippocrates…Her breath caught in her throat, her pulse thrilling at the thought. Then a prickle of fear crept in.
What if that powerful of a magic was too much for mankind? There were reasons the old ways were gone. Darkness. Light. Yin and yang. Walking the razor’s edge. What if the Circle’s plan did turn into a huge disaster?
The coven would be disbanded.
The High Council would blame her parents for her failure. They’d be shamed in the witches’ community. No one would buy botanicals from her dad.
Devlin would be shamed, too. He and Athena would be stripped of their ability to work magic.
And, the boy…
Chloe covered her face with her hands, a heavy feeling collapsing over her like dirt crumbling into a grave as a memory came back to her.
A week or maybe two weeks after that night at the Vice-Chancellor’s house, she’d slumped on a chair outside the boy’s hospital room. She scuffed her sneakers back and forth, back and forth against the yellow tiled floor until her legs ached. Everyone had gone in to see him, but she wasn’t allowed. He wouldn’t know she was there anyway, they said. She was too restless, too noisy, too…She knew the truth. His parents, her parents, no one wanted to look at her. Brain damaged. He was there because of her.
But when they left the room to discuss things, she pushed open the heavy door. He lay there, tubes running in and out of him. So much plastic. White sheets. White walls. His pale face.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wish it had been me.”
She touched his hand. His tiny, cold fingers—
That day she’d thought she had the answer. She’d thought she could cure him, thanks to an ancient Book of Shadows she’d found in her dad’s office.
But she’d been wrong.
Shamefully so.
Chloe flung on her clothes and grabbed her messenger bag. She bolted for the stairs. Maybe she loved it here. Maybe she loved being with Devlin. But her intuition kept insisting that something was wrong. The orb’s warning. Athena’s evasiveness. Midas’s spying. The dead birds. Jessica’s sly smiles and the blood swearing. As much as she didn’t want to face it, she’d jumped into this too fast. Just like her parents always warned her. Just like she always did.
Her head throbbed as she flew out the front door and down the driveway, eyes on the ground, fast-walking under the flying monkey gateway, her tight jeans tugging at her thighs the way the red dress had done that night at the Vice-Chancellor’s house.
Chapter 18
You can leap off a cliff like the Fool, But it’s what you do once you reach shore that determines who you are.
—Athena Marsh, high priestess, Northern Circle
The warmth of the morning sun soaked Chloe’s skin. All around her blackbirds chattered in the weeds. Don’t go. Don’t go, they seemed to cackle. You belong here…
She blocked out their voices. This had been a wonderful dream, the coven, Devlin, magic and medicine. But she’d been foolish. Irresponsible. Shortsighted. She’d heard those words about herself enough over the years to know it was the truth.
Not slowing her pace, she texted Keshari.
We need to talk. Meet after class, okay?
Putting her phone back in her bag, she jogged the last few yards to the end of the driveway, then up the street to the bus stop. Commuter traffic flooded by. Sweat soaked the back of her shirt. Hopefully, a bus would show up soon. She needed to get out of here. Bury herself in her studies. Prepare for her MCAT exams. Move on. Not look back. Do the sane, smart thing. She’d find a cure for the boy on her own, someday, somehow. What they’d done for Em with the crystals gave her a place to start.
The smothered chirp of her phone vibrated through her bag. She let out a relieved breath. Thank goodness for Keshari.
She retrieved her phone. As she checked the message, a sick feeling twisted in her stomach. Not Keshari. A text from Devlin. Damn it.
Without reading the message, she buried the phone in her bag, deeper this time. She had to do this. She had lost sight of the path she’d been on. She’d tone down the witchcraft side of her life. Stick to meditation. Basic rituals. She’d use the Tears of Tara salt to keep the Circle or anyone from spying on her. She’d lie to Juliet. Tell her she was taking a break from the Craft.
A crushing tightness squeezed her chest. She glanced over her shoulder, toward the complex. Only a couple of windows in the main building’s top floor were visible in the distance. Joining the Circle had been a dream come true. But it had to become a brief memory, before guilt and regret ruined it. It had to be replaced by sanity.
Two women joined her at the stop.
A second later, the hiss of the city bus’s brakes sounded down the street. Chloe spotted it, moving with the traffic, stopping to drop off and pick up riders, then working its way closer. She lowered her gaze and focused on her feet, scuffing at the street-side gravel and crumpled leaves, waiting for the seconds to pass.
She raised her head as a car pulled up to the curb a few yards away.
Her mouth went dry. Dear Goddess. Not just any car. An orange BMW coupe. Devlin’s car.
He lowered the passenger window and smiled. “Need a ride?”
The bus hissed up behind his car. Chloe patted her ear, gesturing like she couldn’t hear him over the noise.
“Got to go,” she shouted.
His smiled widened, dimples forming. He motioned for her to get into the car. She looked away from him and toward the bus, time slowing down, each second taking on a surreal importance.
The bus’s doors whooshed open. A tall, goth guy with long, straight black hair strolled down the steps. His gaze met hers, his eyes as vivid blue and deep as a frozen lake on Candlemas Eve, a clairvoyant’s gaze. As he started past her, he paused and whispered, “He that dares not grasp the thorn should never crave the rose.”
Dumbfounded, she could only blink at him. The quote was from one of her aunt’s favorite Anne Bronte poems.
With a nod, he moved on and the surreal moment ended, the world crashed back to life.
“What’s wrong?” Devlin’s distant voice reached her ear.
She turned toward him, drawn by a force as irresistible as gravity or moonlight. A force that had everything to do with her heart and nothing to do with logic.
“Get in.” Devlin leaned across the passenger seat and opened the door. “If you don’t hurry, Henry will get out,” he said as firmly as if no wasn’t an option.
He was right too. She hadn’t noticed the dog in the back, but now he was whining and climbing over the passenger seat, begging her to come with them, his eyes as big and brown and as sweet as Devlin’s.
She looked at the bus again. The two women who’d been waiting with her vanished inside. The door started to close…A memory from her first night at the coven, the maze test flashed through Chloe’s mind: Em sitting on the stairs with her earbuds in, setting herself up for failure.
Chloe dashed for Devlin’s car.
Screw it. Maybe the Circle would fail or be disbanded. Maybe she and Devlin wouldn’t work out. Maybe her intuition was right and something was dangerously wrong.
But if she didn’t try, if she didn’t dare the bite of those thorns, that, even more than the shame of failure, is what she’d really regret.
Chapter 19
Burlington’s flying monkeys. The originals were crafted out of steel decades ago. I created mine out of car parts and garden tools as a gift to my son on his third birthday. Truly, if I could have made them fly, I would have.
—WPZI interview with artist Chandler Parrish
When Chloe and Devlin reached his apartment, they went inside and left Henry outside to burn off some energy.
“Tell me, what’s going on?” Devlin said, leading her to the couch.
Chlo
e sank down and curled forward, elbows on her knees. “Lots of things. Nothing.” She closed her eyes, squeezing them tight. “I thought I could remake my life once I moved up here. When I found the Circle and you, I thought…Everything felt perfect. But my gut’s telling me something is about to go horribly wrong.”
His voice gentled. “When they sent me away to prep school, I thought I was going to remake myself. I ended up expelled and…If it weren’t for Athena, I’d have ended up rotting in juvy.”
She glanced at him. “That’s not exactly reassuring. You mean, juvenile detention, like jail?”
He grimaced. “Where do you think the Circle’s bad reputation came from? It wasn’t just because of my father or grandfather—or because my mother emptied the coven’s bank account on vacations in Belize.”
“You didn’t do anything that wrong, did you?”
“Selling pot mostly. I had an impressive operation going. I thought I was king of the campus. Then I got even stupider. Some friends and I broke into an old equipment shed. We set up a hydroponic system in it, grow lights, automatic fertilizing, the whole works.”
She shook her head. “You were pretty industrious.” But in a way, she could see him doing it. Literally, a gardener with a magic touch. She softened her voice. “Juvenile detention must have sucked.”
“I wasn’t there long. Grandpa let me suffer for a few days, then he stepped in and got me out. But Athena knew I was in trouble long before the shit went down. She yelled at me. Told me not to ruin my life because of the anger I had toward my parents. She encouraged me to follow my real dreams—and to not be afraid of what people might say or of failing.”
“I can see her doing that. She really has a gift for knowing the right thing to say.” Chloe thought back to last night and when she’d picked up on Athena telling her and Em different versions of her childhood. Athena hadn’t twisted the truth to prove or gain anything; there was a kind heart and truth at the bottom of her actions.
