But he’s wrong. I don’t deserve peace.
I know Mr. Hart is getting pressure from the administration. But he never pushes me to go further than I’m comfortable with. He meets me where I am. But I should be the most powerful witch alive by now, and the school is starting to lose patience, with him and me.
“Besides, aren’t you tired?”
“Tired?” I ask.
“It takes a lot of energy to fight your magic, so much more than it would take to use it.”
“Can’t you just tell everyone my magic doesn’t work?”
“No one would buy that. It’s there, Clara, whether you want it to be or not. We need you.”
I’m silent. The school pushes me as if I’m the answer, as if I can single-handedly restore stability in the atmosphere. But if that were true, if I were supposed to use all the power within me, it would never target the people I love. It wouldn’t come with a death sentence.
It has taken so much, too much, and I hate my magic because of it.
“Look at me.” Mr. Hart faces me, and I meet his eyes. “What did I tell you when we started working together?”
“You’ll never lie to me. You’ll tell it like it is.”
He nods. “This is how it is.”
We’re quiet for a long time. Darkness has all but enveloped the field, and stars shine brightly overhead. A breeze picks up in the distance, blowing the remaining smoke out toward the trees.
“Yes, I’m tired,” I finally say, my voice nothing more than a whisper. “I’m so tired.”
For the first time, Mr. Hart sees me cry.
***
It’s late by the time I get to my small cabin in the woods. Its shingles are weathered and old, but the two small windows are clear as crystal. They’re the only way light gets into the small space, and I clean them almost obsessively. The cabin was built for the groundskeeper fifty years ago, but he married and moved off campus, and it sat empty for years.
Until I moved in. I dusted the cobwebs from the cracked white ceiling and scrubbed the walls until the dust was gone and the warm wooden planks were bright. But no matter how much I clean, I’ve never been able to get rid of the musty smell. I’m used to it by now.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever stop aching when I pass the dorms where everyone else lives. I was living in Summer House when Nikki died, and the administration forced me to move to the little cabin beyond the gardens.
At first I was devastated. Moving out of the dorm where Nikki had lived felt like losing her again. But I understood why I couldn’t be there anymore.
When someone dies because you love them too fiercely, you turn off the part of yourself that knows how to love. Then you move to a cabin away from other people and make sure it never happens again.
I push the door open, and the floor creaks when I walk inside. Josh is waiting for me, sitting in my desk chair. Equinox is next to him, shoving his black head into Josh’s side, purring.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s my last night. I want to spend it with you.” He scratches Nox’s head. “And you, Nox,” he adds. His accent gets heavy when he’s tired. Tomorrow, he’ll fly back to his campus in the English countryside, and we won’t see each other again.
He got here three weeks ago for the wildfire training. He didn’t heed the warnings about me because he’s arrogant, and I didn’t stop him because there was no risk of me loving him.
Maybe years ago there would have been, but not anymore.
Besides, tonight is the equinox, and when summer turns to autumn, any affection I have for Josh will fade. It’s a consequence of being an Everwitch—being tied to all four seasons means I change with them.
Tomorrow morning, my feelings for Josh will disappear, just in time for him to fly home to London.
But right now it’s still summer, and what I want more than anything is the false comfort of his warm body next to mine.
“Then stay,” I say.
I take Josh’s hand, and he follows me the three steps to the bed. He tugs me close to him, brushes his lips against my neck.
Until this moment, I didn’t realize how much I needed this, needed him. I close my eyes and let go of the heaviness of the day. It will be waiting for me in the morning, but for now, all I want is to shut off my brain, shut off the worries and expectations and crushing guilt that rule my waking thoughts.
I pull Josh onto the bed, and his weight on top of me replaces everything else. For one more night, I can pretend I’m not so lonely that it has practically hollowed me out.
For one more night, I can pretend I remember what it feels like to love someone. To be loved in return.
So I do. I pretend.
We fill the darkness with heavy breaths and tangled limbs and swollen lips, and by the time the moon reaches its highest point in the sky, Josh is asleep beside me.
The autumnal equinox is in seven minutes.
In seven minutes and one second, the reality of my life will come crashing down on me. My magic will morph to align with autumn, and I will be a more distant version of myself.
Suddenly, I’m furious, searing-hot rage coursing through me. It isn’t enough that I’m dangerous, that my magic seeks out those closest to me. I’m also forced to change with the seasons and watch versions of myself drift away like leaves trapped in a current.
My skin gets hot, and my breaths come shallow and quick. I try my best to calm down, but something inside me is breaking. I’m so sick of losing things.
Of losing myself.
The sun will pull me to autumn the way the moon pulls the tide.
My chest is tight. There’s an ache so deep, so strong within me I’m sure it’s radiating out my back and into Josh’s stomach.
Four more minutes.
My body hurts from trying to stay still, perfectly still, so Josh doesn’t see how torn up I am. He shifts behind me and tightens his arm, pulling me close to his chest.
The room is silent except for his slow, even breathing, and I try to match my breaths to his.
Thirty seconds.
I scoot back into Josh, getting as close as possible, no space left between us.
This time, I’m going to fight. I will hold on to Josh and refuse to let go. The equinox will pass, and I’ll stay right here. I’ll want to stay right here.
I grasp Josh’s arm, and he sleepily murmurs my name, nuzzles his face into my hair.
A shiver runs up my spine, and I cling to him with both hands, refusing to let go.
Three.
I won’t let go.
Two.
I won’t.
One.
Autumn
Chapter Three
“The first day of autumn is notable because the air turns to blades, imperceptible points and edges that remove any trace of summer. The seasons are jealous like that, unwilling to share the spotlight.”
—A Season for Everything
I let go of Josh’s arm. My palms are hot and sweaty from gripping him so tightly. My breathing returns to normal, and the anger inside me fades to defeat.
I lost. Again.
I don’t know why I try, why I keep doing this to myself. It is always the same.
And yet, I wonder what it would be like to go to sleep knowing with absolute certainty that I’d feel the same way about the person lying next to me in the morning. But as soon as I think it, I bury the thought.
I’ll never wake up knowing anything with absolute certainty, least of all how I feel.
We’re too close, Josh and I. I roll out of bed and open the window as far as it will go. The autumn air is sharp, and a cloudless night stretches out beyond the glass.
Josh stirs, and I slip into my sweats and put the teakettle on. I watch Josh sleep, still and calm. When the kettle whistles, he wakes up.
But as of today, he’s dimming, and I can see it in his face.
I won’t look any weaker, though, because I’m not. My magic never falters. It never fades. It just changes.
“Happy equinox.” A hint of sadness softens his tone.
“Happy equinox. Tea?”
He nods, and I grab two mugs from the corner of the counter. Josh stands and gets dressed before sitting back down on the edge of the bed.
I can hear all the witches outside, welcoming autumn even though it’s the middle of the night. Josh watches me, his blue eyes following along as I make the tea.
I hand him a mug and sit on the chair beside the bed. Steam rises and swirls in the air between us.
“Hey, today’s your birthday, right?”
“It is,” I say. “How’d you know that?”
“Mr. Hart mentioned it.” He holds his mug up to me. “Happy birthday, Clara.”
“Thanks.” I give him a small smile, but I can’t meet his eyes.
Witches are born on the solstice or equinox, but no one knows what ties an Everwitch to all four seasons. I was born on the autumnal equinox and should be a regular autumn witch. Instead, something happened when I was born that turned me into this: someone who can barely look at the person she’s with because her feelings for him vanished in an instant.
“You weren’t exaggerating when you said you’d be different,” Josh says. His tone isn’t aggressive or mean, but it still feels like an insult. “Your demeanor, the way you hold yourself… You seem so closed off.”
I don’t say anything.
“What does it feel like?” he asks.
The question catches me off guard. “What does what feel like?”
“The change. Shifting from summer to autumn. All of it.”
No one has ever asked me about it before, not like this. Once it’s obvious I’m no longer interested, no one wants to stick around, and I don’t blame them. But Josh sounds genuinely curious.
“It’s jarring at first, like I was thrown from a hot tub into the ocean. Even though I know it’s coming, it’s hard to prepare for. My magic changes instantly; autumn magic isn’t as intense as summer, so everything slows down a bit. And I guess I slow down too. Whatever passion I had in the summer just seems to fade away.” I take a sip of tea and shift in my seat.
“Like me?” he asks.
“Exactly.”
He flinches and looks into his mug.
“I’m sorry, Josh.” My tone is gentle even though I’m screaming inside. I hate apologizing for who I am.
Or maybe I just hate who I am.
I’m not sure.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “After all, you did warn me.” His voice is casual and even, but when he smiles, he looks sad.
The sounds of laughter and singing float in through the open window. “Trust me, it’s better than the alternative.” As soon as I say the words, I wish I could take them back. He’s leaving tomorrow; he doesn’t need to know the parts of me I want to keep hidden.
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t want me to care about you.” I look out my window, but it isn’t the night sky I see. It’s Nikki. It’s my parents. I squeeze my eyes shut and force the images away.
Josh blows on his tea, even though it’s cool by now. “Your friend, right?” I guess everyone knows the rumors, even someone who got here three weeks ago.
I nod but say nothing. Nox jumps on my lap and looks at me, as if to ensure my affection for him hasn’t changed. I kiss him on his head, and he purrs.
“Anyway, you’re leaving tomorrow, so you don’t need to worry about it.” I let my voice lift, try to clear the air of the tension that has filled the room.
“For what it’s worth, I’ve had a great time these past few weeks. It was worth the fifty quid.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I bet a few of the guys that you’d still be into me after the equinox.” Josh laughs, but he sounds self-conscious. “Can’t win them all.”
A gross feeling starts in my stomach, and I drink some tea to calm it. “You made a bet about me?”
Josh meets my eyes, and his expression softens, as if he’s just now understanding how awful that sounded. “That came out wrong,” he says. “I just meant I had a great time with you. I really did.”
He reaches for my hand, but I pull away. “So great a time that you went to your friends and put money on it.”
“It was a stupid bet, that’s all. I’m really sorry, especially because I meant what I said.” Josh looks at the floor, and I don’t have the energy to stay upset.
I’m embarrassed enough as it is. But more embarrassing than the bet is the fact that he hurt my feelings. And I don’t want him knowing that.
“I had a good time with you too,” I finally say. “At least fifty quid worth.” The words sting on the way out, but Josh smiles.
“At least,” he agrees.
And just like I do at the end of every summer, I vow never to have another fling. Summer is the season I crave touch, crave the closeness of another person, and I’ve given into it for the past three years because it doesn’t matter. My feelings don’t last, so whoever I’m with is safe.
But over time, the fact that I change has started to feel like a curse, and I don’t want to do it anymore. Don’t want to see my own insecurities reflected in the eyes of whomever I’m with.
And sitting here now in autumn, seeing the disappointment on Josh’s face and forcing an apology from my lips, I know it wasn’t worth it.
I take Josh’s empty mug and stand just in time to see a flash of brilliant green light move across an otherwise black sky.
I stare out the window, and Josh comes and stands next to me.
It happens again.
“Did you see that?” I ask him.
“I saw it.” An edge creeps into his voice that wasn’t there before.
Then a deep-red light glides across the sky like a satin streamer in a gymnastics routine, impossible to miss.
I drop the mugs. They hit the floor and shatter.
I sprint out of the cabin with Josh right behind me.
The instability in the atmosphere stings my skin as soon as we’re outside, thousands of tiny shocks burning my arms and causing the hairs to stand on end. The light show continues overhead as we run toward the gardens. Colors dance across the night sky in waves of green and blue, spirals of purple and yellow, as if the Sun herself is finger painting on the upper atmosphere.
The aurora borealis lights up our campus, drenching us in amazing color. But we aren’t in Alaska or Norway or Iceland. We’re in northern Pennsylvania, nestled up against the Poconos.
The aurora borealis is the last thing we want to see.
Students were already in the garden to celebrate the equinox, but anxious whispers and nervous silence have replaced the laughter and cheering from earlier. Cups of cider and cinnamon tea lie abandoned on the cobblestone paths, and everyone has their heads tilted toward the sky. Josh stands next to me, his usual loose stance replaced with a straight spine and clenched fists.
“Have you ever seen this before?” His eyes are wide, and there’s wonder in his voice. Wonder and fear.
“No.”
A band of neon green arches across the sky, pulsing upward into shades of red and pink. Someone behind me gasps, and a shiver runs up my spine.
For the past twenty years, witches have been stationed at both poles to help direct the sun’s charged particles. We’re immune to the radiation the particles carry, but if they were to get through the atmosphere, the rate of rad
iation poisoning in the shaders would soar.
The shaders insist that magic is our area of expertise and that they don’t want to get involved, don’t want to be in our way. That’s what they don’t understand—they are in our way, a huge barricade so wide we can’t get around them, their indifference so toxic it’s destroying the only home we have. Magic is a stopgap, a stabilizer. It isn’t a solution. We need the shaders’ help, but no one wants to hear they’re part of the problem—that they are the problem now.
We’re doing all that we can do, but the rest is up to them.
“What the hell is happening?” Josh keeps his eyes on the lights above us, and I’m not sure if he wants an answer or not.
“There aren’t enough witches to temper all the places the shaders have developed. Magic was never meant to be used this extensively—the Earth needs untamed territories, free from humans and free from control.” I keep my head tilted toward the sky. “Now it’s fighting back, and we can’t handle it all.”
Another burst of solar wind hits the atmosphere, and violet light glides across the sky, momentarily illuminating the garden where we’re standing.
“We should be strong enough to stabilize things,” Paige says from beside me. I didn’t see her walk over, but I’m not surprised she’s here.
“What do you mean?” Josh asks her.
Paige looks him up and down. She frowns before turning her eyes to me. “Haven’t you heard? Our generation has been blessed with an Everwitch.”
“Don’t do this, Paige.” Heat rises up my neck. I glare at her, but she isn’t fazed.
“Do what? Don’t you think he has a right to know that you’re willingly putting us all at risk by not using the power you have? It’s no coincidence that the first Ever in over a hundred years was born now, when we need her so badly. Only we got one who doesn’t want anything to do with magic.” Paige practically spits the words out.
That’s the problem with letting someone see your insides: they still know your secrets long after the relationship ends. They still know exactly what to say to hurt you.
“She has her reasons.” It’s sweet of Josh to stand up for me, but it won’t do any good.
The Nature of Witches Page 2
