The Nature of Witches

by Rachel Griffin

  For the first time since she got here, Paige looks me straight in the eye. “I have never blamed you for Nikki’s death.”

  As soon as she says it, something inside me breaks free. My eyes burn, and I try to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

  Paige sits down on the bed next to me. “I blame you for a lot of things, but what happened to Nikki has never been one of them.” Her voice isn’t soft or sweet, because she isn’t trying to make me feel better. That’s not her way. But she never says anything she doesn’t mean, and I’m overwhelmed by the weight of her words. It feels as if I locked myself in a cage when Nikki died, and after years of being trapped inside, Paige has just opened the door for me.

  “Why not?”

  “Because all you did was love her.” She says it so simply, and when tears slip down my cheeks, I hurry to wipe them away.

  “It was my fault,” I say, my body shaking with the memory of it.

  “It was an accident. You didn’t know what would happen,” Paige says, her voice almost annoyed, as if she’s speaking the most obvious of truths. “You have to stop blaming yourself.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Well, figure it out, because you deserve some peace.”

  I look at her then. “Mr. Hart said the same thing to me once.”

  “He was a wonderful person.”

  “The best.”

  Paige stands and walks to my door, bends over to pet Nox. “You seem to attract the best,” she says, her eyes drifting to one of Sang’s illustrations on the wall.

  “He’s really special,” I say.

  “I was talking about me,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But yeah, he’s all right.”

  I barely register the way her mouth tugs up on one side before she pushes through the door, letting it swing shut behind her.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “You’re allowed to love yourself.”

  —A Season for Everything

  The Spring Fling has been perfect, everything I could have hoped for in a season-end celebration. It’s just winding down, the huge white tent blowing in the breeze. The linens are see-through, and hundreds of twinkle lights hang from the ceiling. Live music floats on the air and reaches far beyond the tent.

  Sang has outdone himself again with the floral arrangements, but instead of brightly colored flowers, the arrangements are all made of small trees and bushes. Branches form nests with tea lights in the middle for centerpieces, and moss outlines the beverage and dessert tables.

  A table at the far end of the tent holds a large planter that’s filled with flowers. When we arrived, they were just seeds, and as the night went on, they fed off the magic of the springs in attendance. Now the flowers are in full bloom.

  It’s hard not to be swept up in it all.

  These are the best parts of Eastern.

  The sun has set, pinks and purples giving way to midnight black. A crescent moon hangs low in the sky, and stars make their debut for the night.

  I catch Paige’s eye from across the room. She looks beautiful. Her long hair is loose and easy, and she’s wearing a navy gown. I smile because I can’t help it, because when we dissipated the blizzard together, we weren’t broken. We were us again.

  She nods in response.

  “Please join us on the dance floor for the last song of the evening,” the vocalist says into her microphone, and my heart drops a little. I don’t want it to end.

  Sang wraps his arm around my waist and whispers, “Shall we?” His breath tickles my skin, and I have to shift away before the rest of my body notices.

  He’s in a blue suit and a crisp white shirt, and even though I’ve been looking at him all night, it hasn’t been enough. His hair is slightly disheveled from all the dancing, and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone.

  “I’d love to,” I say, letting him lead me to the floor.

  The piano starts, a slow, aching song I don’t recognize. I wrap my arms around Sang’s neck, and his hands find my waist. When I’m here with him, I don’t think about what will happen after I graduate, about the expectations that will be placed on me and my magic. I don’t think about the harm I’ve caused or worry about whether I’ll do it again. I don’t think about what will happen to us come the first day of autumn.

  I stay with him in this exact moment, when it’s just us two. Music fills the tent, the dance floor crowded with witches, the sweet smell of daphne drifting in from the shrubs outside. I press my face against Sang’s, and his hand floats up and plays with my hair.

  I close my eyes and sear this moment into my memory, making sure it’ll be with me for the rest of my life.

  The last line of the last verse keeps repeating as the song quiets, the words please be my forever, ever, ever carrying on the wind.

  “You’re my Ever, ever, ever,” Sang whispers along to the song, lips brushing my ear. “Please be my forever, ever, ever.” With one of his hands against the hollow of my back and the other in my hair, I beg myself to believe it. To believe we can have a forever, one that will survive my changes, one that will last long past summer.

  I’ve always believed that being an Ever, being who I am, is incompatible with lasting romance. And maybe that’s true, but I sure as sunlight know what it means to adore someone for no other reason than that they exist, for no other reason than that the universe created such a perfect person from the dust of the stars.

  And tonight, I choose to believe that this will last. That we will get past my magic and the eclipse and the first day of autumn, and we will last.

  The music fades out, but Sang keeps swaying with me, holding me close, so I stay right here, dancing with him to the silence that has washed over the tent, to the breeze that rushes in.

  It’s isn’t until Ms. Suntile walks to the front of the tent and starts speaking that we finally step apart. She thanks us all and formally closes out the evening, and I lace my fingers with Sang’s.

  “Good night?” he asks, pressing a kiss to my temple.

  “The best,” I say.

  “Good.” The way he says it, quiet and rough, makes me pull his hand and lead him outside.

  “Where are you taking me, Ms. Densmore?” he asks, following me, the voices in the tent fading into the background.

  “Away.”

  I hold the hem of my dress as we walk into the east garden, the emerald-green fabric draped loosely over my arm. Cobblestone paths wind between shrubs and maple trees, and a small fountain sits in the center. The constant splashing of water drowns out everything else, making it feel as if we’re miles away from the dance.

  Just us.

  A few dim lights illuminate the pathways, but otherwise it’s dark enough for the moon and stars and fireflies to shine brightly around us. We weave through the garden until we reach the end, where it’s bordered by tall pines and oaks.

  When I turn to face Sang, there’s a smile playing on his lips, his eyes the brightest thing here.

  “You’re my Ever, ever, ever,” he sings softly, his voice just barely reaching me over the breeze. He breaks into a full smile, wrapping his arms around me and laughing into my hair.

  “Why are you laughing?” I ask, holding him tight.

  “Because I’m happy,” he says.

  “Me too.” But the admission scares me, because I know how easily this feeling can be taken away.

  He leans back and looks at me, the smile on his face transforming into something heavier. For a moment, we watch each other, each daring the other to close the space between us.

  I’m not sure which of us breaks first, but suddenly his mouth is on mine. I drop the hem of my dress and pull him into me. Kissing him under the light of the stars makes me feel as if he is who I was always meant to find. I’ve never felt this way in spring, never wanted to feel this way in spring, and I start to think o
f Sang as my exception.

  My spring exception.

  My magic exception.

  Maybe he’ll be my exception when summer turns to fall. If he’s the only exception I ever have, it’ll be enough. More than enough.

  I smile against his mouth because I can’t help it, because I feel like I’m finding myself for the very first time. He doesn’t define me, but the way he sees me has given me the confidence and strength to define myself.

  I think that’s why I look at him like he’s magic. Because to me, he is.

  My lips part, and the kiss deepens, each of us breathing the other in as if we’re the cool night breeze or the perfect scent of daphne. He trails his fingers down my face, my neck, my arms, and when I lose my balance and stumble backward, a large evergreen is there to catch me. Sang follows, his mouth back on mine, and I think for a moment how perfect it is that two spring witches are falling for each other in the gardens at night.

  I slow our kiss before reluctantly pulling away.

  “It’s getting late,” I say.

  “Can I walk you to your cabin?”

  “I’d like that.”

  He takes off his blue jacket and drapes it over my shoulders, then wraps an arm around me. When we leave the garden, the lights in the tent are off, but I hear several voices nearby.

  “Clara!” Someone hisses my name, and I squint into the darkness.

  I stop walking, and Paige comes into view.

  She looks me up and down, then looks at Sang. A mischievous grin spreads across her face. “You guys up for a little fun?”

  “What kind of fun?” I ask, my voice skeptical.

  “The ring of fire,” she says.

  “No way. Ms. Suntile will kill us if she finds out.”

  “That’s why she’s not going to find out. How about it, Spring?” She looks at Sang.

  “I’ve never played before,” he says.

  “There’s a first time for everything.” Without waiting for a response, Paige grabs his arm, he grabs mine, and we’re being pulled to the control field in our formal wear. I’m tripping over my dress and clutching Sang’s hand as I try to keep up, my heart pounding.

  “Do you know the rules?” Paige whisper-shouts over her shoulder.

  “Vaguely,” Sang replies, laughing as we go.

  Paige finally stops pulling us when we get to the control field. At least a dozen of our classmates are here, all seniors, and I wonder how many things I’ve missed out on because of my small cabin in the trees.

  “Clara! Sang! You guys came!” Ari says, bouncing up and down.

  “My money’s on the Ever,” someone else says, but they’re too far away for me to see who it is.

  “Is everyone here?” Paige asks.

  “Yep,” several people reply.

  “Okay, spread out in a circle,” she says, and we all do as we’re told. “You want to be several yards away from your neighbor.”

  I’m holding Sang’s hand, and we wait until the very last minute to let go.

  Paige stands in the middle. “Remember: if the lightning dies with you or touches you, you’re out.”

  Then she gives me a wicked grin.

  “I’ll start.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Never let anyone make you feel bad about the things you’re capable of. Some will insist you step into the shadows to make them more comfortable. But I’ll tell you a secret: there’s enough light for us all.”

  —A Season for Everything

  I wish I could watch the game from above, surrounded by darkness and thousands of twinkling stars. I’d look to the Earth and see more than a dozen witches in a huge circle, still in formal gowns and suits and makeup and updos, passing a lightning bolt around so quickly I wouldn’t know where it began or ended. A ring of fire in a dark, peaceful night.

  My heart is racing as I track the lightning around the circle, my magic thrumming in front of me, catching the charge and keeping it going before it burns out or strikes my skin. The lightning bolt is the lowest voltage we can manage, but it still hurts if it catches your hand before you’re able to send it to the next witch.

  Paige stands next to me in the circle, and I toss the lightning to her, watching as it illuminates her face before moving on to Sang. The lightning never sputters or flickers when it’s in his control; he sends it to the next person as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, easy as breathing.

  “Shit,” Jay yells from the opposite side of the field. The lightning bolt crackles in front of him before vanishing. He was struck, and his skin will burn for the next day or so. As Paige would say, it hurts to lose.

  “You’re out,” Ari says. Jay moves away from the circle and sits on the grass to watch the rest of the game. We all move in a little closer.

  “Your start, Ari,” Paige calls across the field. Fifteen seconds later, Ari is turning her lightning bolt horizontal and sending it off toward Thomas. But he isn’t ready for it, and it dies out before he has a chance to push it forward.

  Jessica laughs from beside him and announces that he’s out, and he joins Jay on the grass. We all take another step closer.

  Jessica creates her lightning quickly, and soon it’s racing around the circle at a speed that’s hard to keep up with. My magic is ready when it gets to me, and it passes by easily, never threatening to hurt me, never threatening to die out.

  Around and around it goes until Melanie yells, “Ouch!” and darkness takes over the field once more. “I caught it a second too late,” she says, leaving the circle. She’s rubbing her hand but still high-fives the others before she sits.

  Another step in.

  We keep playing, the lightning coming faster and faster as people are disqualified, and soon we’re down to six players: Paige, Sang, Ari, Jessica, Lee, and me.

  “Down to the wire,” Lee says as he crafts our next lightning bolt. He turns it on its side and sends it flying around the circle, a brilliant, glimmering line of light connecting us all. I love watching it illuminate the faces of the witches it passes, everyone in contented concentration, laughing and focusing and challenging each other.

  It doesn’t feel like work. It doesn’t constantly remind me that our atmosphere is hurting or that our witches are dying. It’s just fun, a group of witches enjoying that we’re witches.

  “Damn it,” Jessica yells, jumping back and clutching her hand.

  “Good run, Jess,” Lee says, but she shoves him when she passes, rolling her eyes.

  “Oh, stop gloating,” she says, and Lee holds his hands up, laughing.

  Jessica sits down with the others who are out, and it’s my turn to start the next round. My hands get to work, pulling water from the soft dirt until it vaporizes and a heavy thundercloud hangs high above me.

  It waits for me, the patience of the season obvious even within the storm. Spring is the epitome of patience, waiting out the cold and frost and death of winter until everything comes alive again.

  I smile, because I think maybe I came alive again this spring too.

  The energy builds, a current that prickles my skin and moves through my body in jolts. Lightning flashes before me, and I flip it on its side and send it flying toward Paige.

  But when it makes its first pass around the circle and gets back to me, it’s clear it’s too strong. Way stronger than the others. I try to catch it, stop it with my hand or let it vanish in front of me, but it’s as if it has its own magic, circling around us as if it’s the one in control.

  Paige grunts under the weight of it, but it refuses to go out, spinning around and around and around.

  “Move back!” I yell. “It’s too strong.”

  Everyone does as I say, rushing back, but the lightning follows them, unwilling to die out.

  I watch in horror as I realize what’s happening.

  The
lightning bypasses Paige and weaves around Ari, flying straight toward Sang. It follows our connection, leaving a shimmering trail in its wake, crushing my hope that I’d learned to control my magic.

  I was so wrong to hope.

  “No!” I scream, but it’s no use.

  Lightning enters his chest and shoots down his left arm, exiting out his fingertips. He convulses and is thrown several yards before slamming into the ground, shaking shaking shaking.

  “No!” I yell again, running toward him.

  I drop to my knees and say his name, but he doesn’t respond. A superficial burn is already forming on his skin, an intricate, fractal-like pattern that’s deep red and looks like the leaves of a fern. It covers all the skin I can see on his chest and neck.

  “Sang!” I yell, but there’s still no reply.

  I look at his chest, but it doesn’t rise and fall.

  It’s motionless.

  My fingers tremble as I check for a pulse, and I almost cry when a faint, rhythmic beating meets my fingertips.

  “He has a pulse, but he’s not breathing,” I say as Paige drops to the ground beside me. I tilt his head back and begin mouth-to-mouth, taking huge gulps of air and filling his lungs. I watch his chest rise as I breathe into him, up up up before deflating again.

  Another big breath, another rise of his chest.

  I keep going until finally, finally, he chokes and gasps for air.

  “I’m here, you’re okay,” I say, tears streaming down my face. “You’re okay.”

  His movements are slow, and his eyes drift back in his head before locking on mine.

  “Tell me what hurts,” I say, searching him for signs of trauma.

  “My skin,” he says, his voice garbled.

  “Okay. Anything else?”

  “My muscles are sore.”

  I nod. “Do you know who I am?”

  A small smile forms on his lips. “My Ever, ever, ever,” he says, so weak I can barely hear it.

  I choke back the tears and nod hard. “Yes, good,” I say. “That’s good. Do you know what happened?”