35. Magnolia
BY THE TIME we return to the main house, everyone has scattered to prepare for the evening’s festivities. Clementine retreats to the silence of her greenhouse, and I follow, content to put my chemist skills to use with her as she works on a new blend of scents for her and Quinton’s first perfume together.
My emotions are all over the place. One minute I’m breathing easily, ready to take Kera on and undo decades’ worth of damage. The next minute, I’m a jittery mess, worried about what I’ll learn. It’s terrifying and exhilarating, and I want to face her and run away all at the same time.
The veilstone, on the other hand, pulses calmly and steadily in my pocket, not worried at all. I suspect it understands how important this evening will be, and when I wrap my palm around it, it pulses even harder. Happy.
“You gonna marry the veilstone instead of Riggs?” Clementine gives me a teasing shove as we stand at the counter running along the inside of the greenhouse. “You touch it enough.”
My cheeks heat. “It’s weird, but I swear it’s in a good mood.”
“May I?” She holds her hand out, then gasps in surprise when I drop it into her palm. “It’s warm. It’s pulsing.” Wonder laces her words.
“It’s been doing that all day. I think it knows how important today is. What I’m going to need it to do.”
Clementine holds the stone up to the light, turning it this way and that, studying it. Its normally milky-white color is a bit more translucent than normal, making the fissure I caused upon receiving it much more noticeable. “Does it always change like this?”
I shake my head. “Just today.”
“Equinox thing?” she guesses, handing it back to me.
“Maybe,” I shrug, conducting my own inspection before tucking it back into my pocket. “Or maybe a Rowan witch thing.”
“Or maybe a Magnolia Rowan witch thing. Even though we’re not witches,” she adds.
“You know, at this point it’s just embarrassing the way you deny it, right?” I tease.
She pretends to be insulted. “I think the term is derivative. We’re so much more than mere witches. We’re guardians. Guides. Interpreters. Givers. Creators. We’re the physical manifestation of nature’s incredible gifts, and if more people would just open themselves up to the possibility of wonder, then I think they’d be able to bring some magic into their own lives.”
I gape at her. “Clementine, that’s…beautiful.”
She stares at me. “No shit.”
I bark out a laugh. “Well, if you come up with a better term than ‘witch,’ let me know. Until then, I’m wearing my title proudly.”
The veilstone pulses against my hip, and I realize what a shift this is for me. I’ve never been proud of being a witch. I’ve simply been one. Even with Ava, my best friend growing up and still today, I’ve never talked a lot about being one. How…strange. Why have I been like that? Why haven’t I acknowledged such a fundamental part of myself all these years? Because what Clementine says is true: we are so much more than our title, and I’ve been almost willfully blind to it my entire life. Never truly embracing who I am and what my gifts could really be until recently.
Until Riggs.
“Where’d you go?” Clementine asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I smile at her. “Just…thinking.”
I’m by myself,almost at the willow tree, when Kera calls my name from behind me. Exactly as my sisters and I planned. My heartbeat is steady, the veilstone pulsing in my skirt pocket as I turn. “Kera.”
Her gray eyes flash and her small ruby mouth pinches as she demands, “What did you put in the tea?”
I don’t hesitate. “That’s not how this is going to go, Kera. What did you do to me at our Gathering all those years ago?”
She jerks her head back, then chuckles as understanding seems to dawn. “Oh, I see. So that’s what’s been going on. I’ve been wondering why it’s so different, watching you now.”
I go still. “What do you mean, watching me now? You’ve watched me before?” I step toward her, the anger building sharp and quick inside me. “Do you have any idea how creepy that is, not to mention invasive and rude? What is wrong with you?”
She rolls her eyes. “Magnolia. Get over yourself, will you? You’re standing there acting like I’m the big bad wolf when you’re the one who made it so bad.”
“What are you talking about?” I demand. Aspen and the rest of my sisters have appeared, fanning around us into a circle along with my aunts and mom. Ginger is also here, though I can sense her unease.
“Wow.” Kera’s voice is thick with sarcasm. “This feels far more serious than it needs to be.”
“You cursed me!” I yell, completely done pretending and ready to throttle her within an inch of her life. “Of course it’s serious. Decades, Kera. You’ve had me messed up for decades. Why?”
“Truth tea,” she states flatly, ignoring the question. “You gave me truth tea when I got here.”
I step toward her, but Willow grabs me and cuts in. “It was the honey. Not the tea.”
Kera waves an accusing hand at us, her black hair skimming her cheeks. “See, that’s the problem. You and your high-minded sisters are absolutely convinced you’re better than us. Always. Sharing secrets and potions and knowledge among yourselves, while the rest of us are on the sidelines, grasping at the scraps the Rowans deign to throw out. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be on the outside of your family, Magnolia?”
“Yes!” I seethe. “I absolutely do because that’s what you made happen.”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t do that. You did that to yourself. Honestly, Magnolia, do you really think I could be so powerful at sixteen as to wield some kind of curse that lasts for, what did you say, decades? Give me a break.” She turns in a slow circle, eyeing everyone around us. When she faces me again, she pins me with a glare. “I would have given anything to have been a part of this. Instead, all you did was push me away, year after year, not even bothering to let me into your circle. Do you have any idea how painful that was? How unnecessarily cruel?”
I flinch, my fingers curling around the veilstone in my pocket. “What are you talking about?”
Her laugh is cold, harsh. “Of course you didn’t notice. You never did. How much I wanted to be a part of your family, and none of you would have it. I was number eight, you said, and that was the worst number of all. Not your precious seven. But look around: where’s your seventh? Gone. I wanted to be a part of it, Magnolia.” She points at her chest. “Me. And you couldn’t be bothered.”
Above us, the sky bends toward dusk. The actual witching hour. This is when we’re supposed to counteract the curse. The thing is, I’m beginning to suspect that the only curse I have to counteract is mine.
Her eyes flit to my pocket. “When did you get the veilstone?”
I stiffen. Of course she knows. “It was a gift.”
She rolls her eyes. “I know it was a gift. You may have spent your entire life running from what you were meant to be, but I haven’t. Not that you’d know that, because…” She gestures around the circle, as if that explains everything. “I bet you don’t even know half of what that stone can do for you. You know why? Because it’s been the one thing the Rowans haven’t had. Guess who has one? Us. Mom and me. Just our small little clan of two, but we have one.” She reaches into her pocket.
“Stop!” Aspen surges into the circle, holding her hands up as if to defend me against whatever Kera is about to throw.
Kera sighs. “Honestly, Aspen. This isn’t some showdown between wizards with their wands like in a fantasy novel,” she chides, then looks back at me. “I’m trying to tell you that it’s you, Magnolia. You’re the one who made it this bad. Not me. Sure, I threw a hush spell on you for the night back then, because my freaking boyfriend wouldn’t stop looking at you, and the veilstone that Mom had only just started to let me use made it a touch more powerful than it was supposed to. You were the one who turned it into what it’s become. Your fears. Your irrational worries. Your refusal to step into your power.”
Her words hit like a series of punches, and I stumble back. Is she right? Oh, god.
She smirks. “Yes. Ask your veilstone.”
“How would it know?”
Kera looks around the circle. “Anyone want to educate my dear cousin? Persephone?”
I whip my head to my aunt, Ginger’s best friend, with a dawning sense of dread. The expression on her face confirms it: she knew.
“Speak.” Mom’s voice rises, shattering the voices in my head and sounding every bit the commanding witch she is.
Persephone nods once. “The veilstone is a mirror, but also an intuiter. It knows far more about its owners than one might think.”
“I only just got it,” I stammer.
“Doesn’t matter. Ask it,” Persephone urges.
Mom again steps toward me, and I turn to her, desperate for the comfort her presence brings. Confusion mars my every thought. Was this me? Did I do this to myself? She holds her hands out for mine, and I take them, relishing the touch. Her aura is a deep, calm green, matching the ground around us as the light slowly seeps from the sky.
“Magnolia.” Mom’s voice is soft and quiet as she holds my hands within hers. “What is your instinct telling you?”
The truth of it flies into my consciousness, and I gasp. The tears are immediate, streaking hotly down my face as our grip tightens. I don’t need the veilstone to confirm what I know is true. It’s me.
I’m the problem.
I did this to myself.
The world dims and pulses around me, as I try to get my bearings. Decades. Decades, and it’s been my fault the whole time. Finally, I manage to swallow the boulder-sized lump in my throat. “I’m…so sorry.”
“Told you.” Kera’s snarky voice seems distant.
“Shut up,” Aspen commands behind me.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Mom whispers.
I don’t think that’s true. My sisters narrow their circle around me.
My thoughts whirl. How deep-seated must my anxiety have gone for me to warp an innocent hushing spell into a life-altering curse. Fed and made powerful by my own fears of never being as good as my mom and Aspen, not to mention Willow, Hazel, Juniper, and Jasmine—and don’t get me started on Clementine’s genius.
I have to keep repeating it. I did this to myself. I did this to myself.
All those early years of comparing myself to my sisters, looking at their powers and gifts, and wondering why my own never flourished. Worrying why the only thing I seemed to be good at was singing, never trying to be anything more. Focusing on academics, and never transitioning that knowledge of chemistry’s scientific magic into the more natural magic of the world around me. Minimizing the connections between science and nature. Minimizing the gifts that were right under the surface.
Minimizing myself.
It’s been me. All me.
I blink away the tears and look at Kera, who stands just outside my circle of sisters. She stares back, her lips in a satisfied curve. She’s not at all sorry for the original spell, and she’s even less sorry about what it became. The thing is, I can’t be mad at her. Kera has always been fully herself; not once has she ever hidden her true feelings away. If I’m honest—and at this point, it’s the only thing to be—we always knew she wanted to be a part of our lives whenever we were together, and we never let her in. I’ll never know if that was a mistake or not.
That’s not true. It was a mistake…to me, at least. I’m sure Aspen has a different opinion, and judging by the murderous look in her eyes, she has no plans to change her mind anytime soon.
“How are we doing this, then?” Kera asks in a bored tone. “And for the record, your truth serum needs work. It was only effective for an hour.”
Clementine grins to my left, knowing, like all the sisters, that the blend only makes the person think it’s not working. The subtlety of the blend is what ensured Mom kept us all in line growing up, until six-year-old Clementine figured out how to counteract it.
Blueberries, in case you’re wondering. That’s it. Just toss back a handful of blueberries and boom, it’s gone. The beauty of it all is that Kera is allergic to blueberries. Has been since she was a little girl, so we always make sure they’re nowhere to be found when she’s on the property.
I shift my glance to Mom, knowing she’s got a back-up plan. She’s got back-up plans for her back-up plans. But she shakes her head. This is all me. I have to be the one to step up and speak out.
Because it’s my voice.
My life.
Behind me, the willow tree’s presence is a steady calming buzz of power as I turn to hold Kera’s gaze. I want to know the answers to so many questions, but all I get out is, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“What makes you think I’ve paid such close attention to you that I even realized what had happened?”
I cross my arms and stay silent. We both know she paid close attention.
Then she shakes her head. “Fine. It’s because you have been so blind. So incredibly blind, and it’s infuriating. Blind to your own power. Blind to the way you and your family act like you’re so much better than us. Blind to what you could be. You always have been.” Her eyes flit to my pocket and back up. “And I don’t have much faith you’ll change.”
“And the spell?”
“You already know the answer to that.”
She’s right. My chest thrums with the knowledge of what must be done. And even though I don’t need anyone or anything else, Kera does. “Will you be a part of it anyway?”
She blinks, her surprise finally cracking the mask of indifference she’s worn until now. “You…want me to help?”
“I want you to help,” I confirm. “You and your mother. You’re each the seventh.”
Her eyes glisten, matching mine, then she swipes roughly at her tears. “Okay.”
“Are you ready to do this?” Willow asks from my right.
“I am.” The veilstone pulses in my pocket, and I pull it out. It’s glowing, far more colorfully than ever before, pulsing with strands of rainbow-hued light. A fiery warmth begins to build in my chest as I breathe in deep, closing my eyes and tilting my face to the evening’s fading light. The soft flutter of bat wings comes to me over the wind, and birds begin to sing in the willow tree just beside us.
It is time.
Exhaling, I lift the veilstone up and out, bringing it to eye level as Kera steps into the ring surrounding me. I am encircled by two sets of seven, and as I turn to look at each witch, meeting their eyes and searching their auras, I know, without equivocation, that each of their intentions is good. Even Kera’s. Even her mother’s. Because while Kera may not be sorry for what happened, she also has no ill will.
The words come as if they’ve lain dormant for hundreds of years instead of mere decades, and my throat opens wide to let them out. It doesn’t matter who is around. Nothing matters except stepping into myself.
“Universe, and all that makes you what you are: the nature surrounding us, the wind on our faces, the water slaking our thirst, the fire in our hearths, the earth providing everything we could ever need: I come before you with an apology in my heart. I am sorry. I have not acknowledged you and your power. Instead, I have been quiet my entire life. I have only observed, and compared myself with those whom I watched. I have never fully embraced what we are—what I am—choosing to see only the barest of magic and using even less.”
The veilstone heats up to an almost uncomfortable temperature, but I hold on, letting its vibrations seep into me. The wind rises around us, bringing the heady, lush scent of magnolia flowers with it.
Looking up at the moon that’s beginning to rise over the willow tree, I continue. “I have been wrong, and I have wronged you in return. Please forgive me. And with that forgiveness, I call on you to remove this curse that I have put upon myself. Allow me to sing once again without fear. Allow me to step fully into the power I have shunned. I want to be better. Allow me to become who, and what, I am destined to be.”
A crack of lightning strikes, sending the scent of ions to mix with the magnolias. Chemistry and nature, fused into one. I open my eyes, not sure when they closed, and see that each circle of witches is surrounded by a bright white light, as though their individual auras combined to form a cohesive circle of beautiful magic. The veilstone’s vibrations reach a fevered pitch, forcing me to release it or risk getting burned, and as I remove my hands, it hovers in the air, then rises. The circles of white arc toward it, meeting it and forming a dome of rainbow-infused light above us.
My chest thrums, then waves of nausea grip me. I don’t know if I lose my footing, but suddenly I’m weightless, surrounded by my sisters and Kera, all of them supporting me as thick, shiny tendrils of black smoke emerge from within me, curling out and slithering, one after the other, up toward the dome of light.
I watch, horrified, as the tendrils continue to pour from my chest, and Aspen curses softly behind me.
Wind whips around us, blocking out all sound except for the frenzied beating of my heart. I’m frozen, unable to move for what feels like an eternity, and finally the curls of darkness leave me. I shift my gaze, watching as they hit the dome. The rainbow hues darken as the light absorbs the smoke, turning gray, then black, before it turns in on itself, pulling all the light from the circles into a tight ball of black, then exploding. Streaks of white burst above us like fireworks, and another bolt of lightning breaks across the sky. The veilstone drops to the grass at my feet.
The silence that follows is deafening. Dazed, and a little woozy, I manage to lean down and pick up the veilstone, noting its coolness as I squeeze it and put it back in my pocket. I breathe and take stock of myself. I feel…lighter. Whole. A low energy flows through me, the power I’ve tamped down for too long now simmering just below the surface.
“Did it work?” Jasmine’s voice is soft, and I realize that everyone—my sisters, my mother, my aunts, Kera, and her mother—is bunched around me, no longer in circles, but simply surrounding me.
My throat works on a swallow. I did it. We did it. It takes a moment, but I finally speak. “Yes. Yes, it did,” I confirm, a smile spreading across my face.
Mom grabs me into a hug, and Aspen’s arms join hers. In moments, I’m at the center of a family sandwich, and the happiness, the lightness, I feel is almost too much. Like I’ll float away if they let go.
“I’ve missed you,” Aspen whispers. “So much.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
“All I ever wanted was to be included,” Kera sobs. “This hug is amazing. Is this what you all are like all the time?”
We all laugh as we break apart, and Kera’s expression stills. “Oh, dammit,” she says. “This truth tea is still working, isn’t it?”