Chapter 25
When I wake up in the morning, there’s a split second before I remember what happened last night. For the briefest moment in time, Chris is still alive. All is as it should be…until reality comes crashing down.
When I take my phone off Do Not Disturb, it glitches from the amount of notifications that stream in.
News of Chris’s death has rippled throughout the coven and even spread to the mortals—my entire social feed is full of tributes to him.
He was on the basketball team, so half the school either knows him or pretends that they did.
There’s nothing from Lizzie. I send her a short text to check on her, but she doesn’t respond. There aren’t even the three little dots to show that she’s typing. This is hitting her hard.
Chris’s death shook me more than I could admit. Even though I wouldn’t consider us close, he was a good friend to my brother and a member of this coven. He should be alive. How many more people will die on my watch?
This has gone on long enough. It’s time to reach out to Gran.
Hidden at the back of my closet is a clear plastic bin full of candles in a variety of colors. I pull two fresh ones out—one white, the other blue. Purity and clarity. I set them both on the vanity and light the wicks, taking great care to clear my mind of all thoughts other than Gran.
Communing is something I’ve only read about.
I’ve made several half-hearted attempts to reach out to Mom, but I haven’t put in the effort I should.
I think Grandma Rose might have spoken to me last week in the back storeroom at the shop, but I can’t be completely sure.
If I can even hear a whisper of Gran’s voice, then I’ll know that she isn’t too far from my reach.
While Gran might have intended for me to follow in her footsteps, she never took the time to show me what being Witch Queen entailed. Still, she’s the person I trust the most and the only one who might have the answers I need.
Once the wax softens and pools, I stare at the twin flames until my vision doubles.
Most acts of witchcraft require concentration and intention, like with scrying.
I cleanse my thoughts of all my troubles and imagine paving a road from this earthly plane to the next. Brick by brick, I lay the foundation.
“Gran,” I whisper. “If you’re there, speak to me. I need you.”
The answering silence is suffocating. I peek through one open eye, but no one appears in the mirror, just my empty room reflected at me. The only movement is the lilac canopy fluttering in the breeze from the air vent.
I squeeze my eyes shut and refocus. “I’ll take anyone at this point,” I beg. “Grandma Rose? Mom?”
And suddenly, everything stops. The sound of the air-conditioning unit fades away, and the birdsong outside my window halts mid-note. Even the planet seems to cease spinning for a millisecond before a voice drifts into my ears.
“My baby…”
My limbs jerk, nearly knocking over the blue candle.
In the mirror, the faint reflection of a woman appears behind me at my right shoulder.
She’s only a few years older than me, with dreadlocks piled in a messy bun atop her head and gold bangles that line both her arms. I’ve stared at photographs of her face all my life, so I would know her anywhere.
“Mom?” I breathe.
“Mikaela, I’m sorry.” She raises her hand, hovering over my shoulder. “Oh, how I wish I could turn back the hands of time.”
I’ve spent my entire life rehearsing what I would say to her if we ever had the chance to meet, but everything I practiced flies straight out of my head. It’s really her. I called out when I needed help, and she came.
“Mom.”
My bottom lip wobbles as I fight back tears. All my muscles twitch from the urge to whirl around and bury my face in her chest. But the rational side of me knows that she isn’t here—at least, not physically. If I turn to face her, I’ll be in a room alone, and she’ll be gone.
“What do I do?” I cry. “I’m so lost, I’m not ready for this. You should have been here!” I can no longer hold back the tide—ugly, choking sobs crawl up my throat, bursting out of me in a flood.
Mom’s face falls. Her palm presses into my shoulder, and her solid presence steadies me. “There’s nothing we can do to change the past, baby. All we can do is look toward the future.”
I sniff and wipe my nose. “That sounds like something Aunt Roberta would say.”
“Listen to her. She’s a wise woman.” She leans forward and grips both sides of my head, pressing a kiss to my scalp. “You are the best of me. If there’s anyone who can face the evil that is yet to come, it’s you, ma chérie.”
“But what do I do? I’m so lost.”
Mom’s reflection turns her head sharply to the side. She pauses as if someone is whispering into her ear and then returns her gaze to me. “I can’t stay long, but trust your intuition. The girl is the beginning and the end.”
My heart stutters. “Which girl?” I ask. “Do you mean Aria? Or Joelle?”
Mom opens her mouth to say more, but our time runs out. All her molecules begin to disintegrate one by one until she’s nothing but particles of dust that disappear before my eyes. When I turn around, I’m alone once more.
I lean forward, blow out the candles, and let anger consume me.
I’m filled with a sorrow and rage that I’m unable to put into words.
I’m upset that she’s only appeared to me now, when I’ve been reaching out for years.
But more than that, I’m devastated that this is the most time I’ll ever have with her.
I chuck the melted candles into the trash and throw myself back onto my bed, burying my body beneath the covers as the full significance of this moment sinks in—I can commune with the dead.
Gran didn’t answer, but my mother did. Mom was here, in this very room.
She spoke to me, like Grandma Rose did when I was studying the coven history books at the shop.
I didn’t want to admit it then, but it’s too obvious to ignore now.
I’ve gone my entire life believing that I am unworthy, but you are what you believe.
If there’s anything I’ve learned over these past couple weeks, it’s that I can do hard things.
My entire life, I’ve believed that divination is the only magical skill I’m good at. But this experience has shown me that I can also cast powerful glamours and heal injuries. I couldn’t save Chris, but there were too many other factors.
I’m growing as a witch, but not fast enough. People are still dying, and the wild card of the full moon is still in play. It’s all too much.
The sobs begin before I can suppress them. Pressure builds at my temples as snot drips from my nose. There’s no one around to see how ugly I look. No one to comfort me or yell at me to pull myself together. I give into the fear, sadness, and grief swirling within me.
I let my emotions wash over me until exhaustion wears me down and compels me into dreamless slumber.