Chapter Thirty-One
It might have been her imagination, but Lily had been on edge since Wednesday evening at witch school. Possibly, it was because Lily had made a point to draw a wary Chrys into her conversations there after class—a gesture Chrys didn’t want to be pleased by, but secretly had been. But that couldn’t be all of it. Lily was the one who’d always set the expectations, so Chrys didn’t think she had a reason to be nervous about the social repercussions.
Certainly, the curse was part of it, yet that didn’t entirely make sense, either. Since the latest cafeteria incident, the Historical Society had been enlisting the help of every witch in Thornhaven to strengthen wards and recast magic-suppressing charms on a daily basis. As a result, the curse had been quieter over the past week, with only one minor incident involving a gym class. Plus, thanks to Lily’s meticulous planning, the two of them knew exactly what they were going to do tonight to destroy it. Even Chrys, who didn’t work well with plans, felt she had this one down. Lily had been barraging her with texts to make sure of it.
While Chrys bided her time after a light dinner, she scrolled through their most recent conversation.
Lily: Have you been asked to help out at the ball this year?
Chrys: No. You?
Lily: No. Do you think that’s part of our punishment?
Chrys: Not being forced to work?
Lily: They think we’re irresponsible.
Chrys: We are irresponsible.
Lily: Rude
Lily: But seriously, do you think they’re going to keep holding this against us?
Chrys: No idea. Maybe they didn’t ask bc if we hadn’t finished painting in time, we’d be busy that day
Lily: Makes sense … Are you going?
Chrys: Yeah
Lily: With someone?
Chrys: My mom. Did you ask Luke?
Lily: No
Lily: How many times do we walk counterclockwise while sprinkling the water?
All their conversations over the past few days had been like that. Something normal, then boom—pop quiz. If Lily had been making sure Chrys knew her shit, she’d succeeded. So why was Lily acting so twitchy? It wasn’t as though Chrys was totally devoid of anxiety herself, but Lily had been looking like she saw a ghost every time Chrys had talked to her.
Chrys stuffed a bottle filled with amethyst-infused water into her backpack and hoped Lily got over the worst of her nerves quickly. Anxiety could make a witch lose focus, and worse, it could bring negativity into the spell. They couldn’t afford that when that was what they were trying to banish.
“I’m heading out with a friend,”
Chrys reminded her mom as she breezed through the living room.
“Okay, I remember.”
Her mom cocked a funny look at the overfilled backpack but chose not to ask, which was a relief. Chrys had an explanation, but she preferred not to use it.
“Have fun. Text me if you’re going to be out past eleven.”
“Promise!”
Her mom was surprisingly easygoing about all the time Chrys had spent with Lily recently, no doubt relieved that her daughter hadn’t shunned all human contact.
Sitting on a bench in front of the apartment complex, Chrys scrolled back further through her and Lily’s conversation history while she waited, her breath exhaling in white puffs. When the temperature on the island dropped, the salty ocean breeze accentuated the cold.
Across the parking lot, a string of orange lights blinked in someone’s window, and the wind blew dried leaves about Chrys’s feet. The air felt extra crisp; the evening sky, especially dark. Downtown and the harbor would be bustling—it was Saturday night, after all, and there were plenty of bars and restaurants to entertain people. But in her tourist-unfriendly corner of the island, the night seemed desolate, and the wind muttered to itself as it meandered through the barren trees. Even the moon had vanished, its sliver swallowed by patchy clouds.
Maybe, Chrys considered, she wasn’t as calm as she liked to believe.
She took a deep breath, sharp air filling her lungs. A waning moon was good for the type of spell they were doing. That was a positive sign, and she should concentrate on it. Not the faintly ominous atmosphere of approaching winter.
Before she could give herself a pep talk, headlights flashed over the tree branches by the bench. Lily pulled up to the curb, and Chrys climbed into the SUV, eager to be gone. Her patience was short at the best of times, and doing this spell reminded her a lot of the advice Ms. McNeil had given her when Chrys had been selected to perform a concert solo last year—the best way to deal with nerves was to jump in and belt it out.
“I brought you coffee,”
Lily said, indicating the to-go cups in the central cup holder.
“I thought we might need the caffeine, but you seem …”
She looked Chrys up and down. “Perky.”
Chrys picked up her cup and inhaled the pumpkin spice–scented steam.
“Just cold. Are you sure you should be having caffeine? You’ve been jittery all day.”
Lily made a whining noise in her throat as she put the vehicle back in drive.
“Caffeine helps you focus, right? I might need that.”
“You’re the most focused person I’ve ever met. You’re like a human laser beam.”
Which was why it was so unexpected that Lily hadn’t asked Luke to the Halloween ball yet, considering that her million-kilowatt focus on him was how they’d gotten into this mess.
But … after they were successful tonight, she’d probably do it.
Way to go, brain, reminding me of that. Now Chrys was going to have a hard time focusing, too.
“Thanks for the coffee,”
she said, and took a sip, hoping it was hot enough to burn her tongue and distract her from soppy visions of Lily and Luke dancing.
“You’re welcome.”
Lily’s voice squeaked a little.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want something different for a change, and I thought about texting you, but then I thought it might be nicer for it to be a surprise, so … Um, I hope it’s okay.”
“It’s perfect.”
In truth, she’d have happily drunk whatever Lily brought her, even if it were something blah like chamomile tea. The idea that Lily wanted to surprise her with something nice made it taste wonderful and warmed her better than the SUV’s heaters.
The rest of the drive passed in silence, and Lily parked just outside the school property. It would be a pain to lug their supplies, but she explained that she didn’t want her car sitting in the lot in case people noticed the school had been broken into.
No cars were in the high school lot, and no lights were on in the building. Keeping to the shadows, they crept up to a single door by the theater. People involved in the school shows or music performances used this door during after-school rehearsals, and unlike the other entrances, it was secluded and lacked the bright lights that shone down on the lobby and cafeteria doors. The lock was sticky, but Chrys got them in after a couple of minutes of trying.
Since they’d never discussed what would happen if she couldn’t, so far, so good.
Chrys gently helped the heavy door close behind them, but the click of the latch reverberated in the dark, empty space.
“Here,”
Lily said, and Chrys reached out into the darkness and found the candle Lily was offering her. Their fingers brushed, and Chrys pushed aside the fluttery feeling in her gut to focus and conjure a flame.
Chrys had figured normal flashlights would do for navigation, but Lily had argued that they didn’t want the glow to be visible from outside. She had insisted they use charmed candles for light. The small flame from Chrys’s candle lit the immediate vicinity better than it should have, but that was what the magic did. Often called a thief’s candle, it gave off light only to the witch who lit it, and that light was more intense than a normal candle’s. Lily had one, too, and she led the way.
By the time they made it through the hallways to the cafeteria, Chrys was dimly aware that her stress was getting the better of her, and she took a deep breath. Lily was counting on her to be the reckless one who courted danger instead of fearing it, and Chrys refused to disappoint her.
The kitchen behind the food line was exactly as it had been last week—dim, clean, and foul smelling. While Lily began unpacking their supplies, Chrys peered under the counter. The curse, too, didn’t look any different. It still reminded her of pulsing, oily worms, and Chrys’s gaze didn’t linger on it. It made her feel wrong.
Lily handed Chrys one end of a tape measure as Chrys stood.
“This is four feet. I think we need to go for eight.”
Chrys stepped away until they’d pulled out eight feet of tape. The curse had chosen its spot under the counter well. Their positioning would be awkward, but an eight-foot-diameter circle fit in the kitchen and gave them room to move, which they’d need. As Chrys helped Lily center the curse in the middle of the circle, she couldn’t shake the sensation that this was overkill. Were all these rules and steps truly necessary? A witch’s power came from within, but the spell had been very specific about what to do, and since neither of them had ever attempted anything requiring so much power …
With the circle’s diameter set, they spread eight white candles out evenly along the circumference and stuck another in the center on the counter, above the curse. Lily had already prepared those candles, rubbing them with anise oil and pressing sprigs of rosemary and thyme into the wax, as per the spell’s instructions.
Lily nodded at her, and Chrys held her hand above the westernmost candle. Here went nothing.
“One for sea.”
She drew on her power. The candlewick flared to life.
Lily did the same over the northernmost candle.
“Two for earth.”
They took turns.
“Three for sky.”
“Four for fire.”
Then together, over the central candle.
“Five for the magic they create.”
The fifth flame shot up high, thanks to their combined power, and Chrys snatched her hand back, palm stinging. Not only were they both tense, making it perhaps too easy to draw on their magic, they hadn’t practiced casting together. Maybe that had been a mistake.
Chrys lit the remaining four candles with a match, reserving her energy, while Lily ignited the incense. Whoever entered this room on Monday morning was going to wonder why it smelled like a spice shop.
Like Chrys, Lily had pulled her hair back so it didn’t get in the way, but a few strands had fallen free of her ponytail, and she tucked them behind her ears.
“You remember your part?”
“You wouldn’t let me forget.”
Chrys rolled her eyes, but in this moment, she was thankful for the way Lily had drilled her. With incense filling her head, the candlelight flickering, and the anticipation of the unknowns to come, it would have been too easy to forget. It had been a while since she’d felt this kind of pressure.
She pulled out the jar with the amethyst-infused water and unscrewed the lid, and Lily poured a premeasured quantity of sea salt into it. In spells, water usually signified movement, amethyst peering into the metaphysical realm, and salt purification. Chrys understood the purpose of the ingredients, and she focused her intention on them. That complete, she set the jar aside while Lily retrieved the final object from her supplies: the vial of frankincense-infused oil.
Here was where they’d had to get creative. To destroy the curse, they had to negate the magic that had caused it to form. As best they could figure, there were two parts—their own poorly directed hexes, and the hexes their ancestors had cast. Lily had found some language in one of the borrowed books that she’d adapted for them to say, and Chrys had suggested adding the oil. Anointing another witch with an appropriate type of oil was a common method of showing trust in a variety of ceremonies, from coven initiation to marriage. Frankincense was the usual choice, as it aided with protection and power.
In the end, none of the actual words they spoke or actions they took would make a difference if their intent wasn’t strong and focused. They both knew that.
Lily turned to face her, and Chrys tried not to twitch. Shadows danced over Lily’s face in the flickering light, and her eyes seemed darker. She looked beautiful and powerful.
“I, Lily Ellen Allerton, descendant of the Thornhaven Allertons, declare an end to the rift between my family and the Langmores. I disavow any negativity that remains, and I banish any remnants of discord between myself and Chrysanthemum Quinn. In this endeavor, we are one.”
She dipped her finger in the frankincense oil and drew two lines on Chrys’s forehead—an L and C, conjoined, to show they were united in purpose. Chrys held her breath the entire time, her eyes closed so she wouldn’t have to stare into Lily’s eyes.
Lily’s finger left a tingling sensation behind on her skin—and when she inhaled again, Chrys tasted electricity in the air as well. It wasn’t just her crush on Lily that was giving her a charge; power was growing thick around them.
Chrys’s hand trembled as she took the vial from Lily.
“I, Chrysanthemum Leigh Quinn, descendant of the Thornhaven Langmores, declare an end to the rift between my family and the Allertons. I disavow any negativity that remains, and I banish any remnants of discord between myself and Lily Allerton. In this endeavor, we are one.”
Lily closed her eyes as well when Chrys traced the sigil on her forehead, and Chrys tried to ignore how close she had to stand to Lily to do it. Their faces almost touched. Their lips were inches apart, and she could practically count Lily’s eyelashes.
Chrys swallowed and stepped away. What greater proof was there that they had put aside their animosity than her wanting to kiss Lily?
“Okay, done.”
Her voice came out in a low, tremulous whisper.
Lily carefully poured the salt water from the jar into two glasses and handed one to Chrys.
“Here we go.”
They stood across from each other, Chrys by the western candle and Lily by the eastern. On Lily’s signal, they walked in a counterclockwise direction, letting drops of water fall from their fingers onto the floor.
Think banishing thoughts, Chrys told herself.
It was easier said than done when she was also trying to keep track of the number of rotations around the circle.
At the end of the fourth circuit, they stopped across from each other once more. The air around her felt close, voltaic, charged with power, but she couldn’t detect anything beyond that (certainly no sign of distress from the curse), and she wasn’t sure if she should. The book had spelled out the ritual, but not what to expect.
Kneeling, Chrys checked on the curse again. It pulsed and squirmed, but it didn’t appear to register their presence. All of that was either about to change, or they were going to have to come up with a plan B.
Lily recited the chant they’d found in the book.
“As these words are spoken, this curse’s power is now broken. As these words are spoken, this curse’s power is now broken. As these words are spoken, this curse’s power is now broken.”
She dipped her fingers in the water and flung droplets at the curse.
It flinched—that was the best way Chrys could describe it. As soon as the water touched it, steam hissed, and it twitched, writhed, seemed to draw in on itself.
Chrys quickly wet her own fingers.
“As these words are spoken, this curse’s power is now broken. As these words are spoken, this curse’s power is now broken. As these words are spoken, this curse’s power is now broken.”
Power rose in her throat as she spoke, although she hadn’t consciously drawn on it. Chrys had felt stirrings in herself before, but not like this. Perhaps there really was something to these rituals.
Again, the curse reacted to the water, which sizzled on it. It shuddered more noticeably than last time.
Chrys met Lily’s gaze, and Lily nodded. Together, they chanted in unison, and in unison, they flung more water. Again and again, until the words poured out of Chrys’s mouth without her even trying. Her fingers delved deeper into her glass, grasping more water and tossing it with more force.
The curse thrashed. The louder and more insistent their voices grew, the more steam rose into the air, mingling with the incense smoke. A white haze enveloped Chrys’s face. It was far too much smoke and steam for the water they’d used. It stank, burrowing into her lungs.
“As these words are spoken …”
She coughed through the chant, clinging to Lily’s voice for guidance.
A scream cut through their words.
Its force knocked Chrys backward, almost off her feet, and she only barely managed to hold on to her glass and keep the remaining water from spilling. On the other side of the counter, Lily cried out. She must have been hit with that burst of magic, too.
That alone was enough to propel Chrys back into position, and the power in her rose accordingly. That thing had hurt Lily.
Fuck. This. Curse.
“… this curse’s power is now broken!”
She had so little water left, but she threw the drops on her fingers with the sort of force one reserved for softball tryouts.
Lily’s voice rejoined hers. The curse lashed out a second time, once more sending Chrys sprawling backward, but this time she was prepared. Her chanting didn’t stop, though her voice wavered from the magical punch to the gut. With each hit, her power surged with her determination. Her head felt like it was detaching from her body. Her hands shook.
She and Lily were screaming the words together, and the curse’s magic was hot and strong, like a meaty hand, pressing down on her. Its slimy, wormlike fingers strained for her mouth, trying to shut her up. Its smoke attempted to choke her.
“… brOKEN!”
Chrys had no idea how long they’d been chanting, but the pressure on her body stopped all at once. A final gush of power blew through her lips, and she collapsed to the floor. Lily must have experienced something similar, because her voice had stopped.
The smoke dissipated as quickly as it had formed, leaving nothing behind but sweet-smelling incense.
And the curse … Chrys’s nose detected its absence before she could search for it. It was gone. The spiderweb of cracks remained, but the slithering, pulsing heart had vanished.
Belatedly, she realized there wasn’t just salt water on her face, but sweat rolling down her neck.
Across from her, Lily’s face was shiny with it, too, and she breathed heavily.
“It’s gone?”
Chrys wasn’t sure whether that was a question or merely surprise that they’d done it.
“I don’t see it anymore.”
“Or smell it.”
Lily wrinkled her nose.
“But there’s still pieces.”
Chrys peered at the veins under the counter.
“Are they part of it, or are they cracks that need to heal?”
Lily shrugged, but her face lightened.
“Let’s hope it’s that.”
“Yeah.”
Chrys climbed to her feet and surveyed the burning candles. Done. They’d succeeded. She felt dazed as she snuffed out the nearest candles.
Lily, too, acted a bit like she was coming out of a dream as they cleaned up. It wasn’t until they’d finished and were sipping the remains of their coffee and eating the cookies Chrys had brought that they started to emerge from their stupor.
“It’s really done,”
Lily said, when they finally stepped outside.
Cold air slapped Chrys’s sweaty cheeks, and she took a deep breath, letting the chill fill her lungs. It was invigorating. At last she was waking up to the enormity of it all, and she let out a whoop of triumph.
“We did it! Holy shit, we did it.”
Lily shushed her, glancing around at the empty lot, before apparently deciding that it was okay to be happy. She burst out laughing.
“It was choking me at one point! Like, what the fuck? I was not ready for that.”
“It kept punching me. But you know what?”
Chrys grinned.
“We punched harder.”
“Hell yeah, we did.”
Lily’s cheeks were already flushed, either from the exertion or the cold, but under the streetlamp’s glow, Chrys would have sworn they turned redder. Then Lily threw her arms around her.
“We make such a good team.”
Lily’s hug landed awkwardly since they were both wearing backpacks filled with supplies, but Chrys didn’t care. Now that her momentary daze had vanished, giddy elation replaced it. And Lily was hugging her. Good sense and rationality had no place here.
Before she knew what she was doing, she kissed Lily’s cheek.
Lily’s skin was soft and lightly tacky from sweat, and for once, her hair didn’t smell of fancy shampoo but of incense. Chrys inhaled the remnants of frankincense and sandalwood, and they kick-started her brain once more. Oh shit, oh shit. What had she done?
She pulled back, heat rushing up her neck, begging the night to hand her an excuse.
“A very … yes, very good … team.”
She stumbled around the words, her grin plastered to her face with shock and panic.
She had to get away, and she picked up her pace toward Lily’s car. Riding in the car together after what she’d done would be a problem, but she’d worry about that when she got there.
The SUV’s locks clicked, and Chrys dumped her backpack in the back seat as Lily’s footsteps grew louder. But although she’d put her bag in there, Chrys was finding it hard to bring herself to open the passenger door and climb in. A door on the driver’s side shut, and she stiffened. Lily was walking around to her side, and Chrys forced herself to turn her way.
She’d been pretending to be brave all evening, so what was a few more uncomfortable minutes?
“I’m—”
Chrys didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence or judge Lily’s expression, because Lily moved too fast.
Her lips touched Chrys’s cheek, not forcefully but not lightly, either. With just the right amount of pressure to suggest she meant to do it but wasn’t entirely sure how it would be received.
To be fair, Chrys wasn’t entirely sure how she received it. Her spiraling thoughts came to a screeching stop. Her heart was beating so hard that it might burst.
“Um …”
Chrys thought she might be hyperventilating. She could still feel Lily’s breath on her face, and Lily wasn’t breathing too steadily herself.
“That was …”
“Revenge,”
Lily said, looking anything but vengeful as she bit her lip.
Oh, okay. Words. Thoughts. For goodness’ sake, she had just destroyed a curse. She was capable of powerful magic. And yet at no time during that spell had Chrys felt so completely and utterly unmoored, not even when her head had been so suffused with power that she’d felt like she was floating.
“You should be careful,”
she said, her voice far steadier than she’d have assumed possible.
“What if I feel forced to retaliate? This could escalate.”
It was the right thing to say. Relief swept over Lily’s face, and she smiled tentatively.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
And yet a dare was so obviously what those words were.
Chrys cupped Lily’s cheeks with her fingers and pressed her lips against Lily’s mouth.
Lily froze, and for a half heartbeat, Chrys thought she’d made a terrible miscalculation. Then Lily melted against her, her hands closing on Chrys’s arms, her lips parting slightly to bring their mouths closer. Breaths and heartbeats mingled in the chilly night, and all Chrys felt was warmth.
When she’d use to think about kissing Lily, it had never been like this—with the scent of frankincense oil and incense on her skin, the taste of coffee and chocolate on her lips. With the satisfaction of knowing it wasn’t just this moment that joined them. That they were a team, more powerful together than apart.
Nearby, headlights flashed and an engine crescendoed, then faded, as a car drove by. Chrys had all but forgotten they were standing in the road. Hell, she’d nearly forgotten anything but Lily.
She withdrew her hands from Lily’s cheeks, but Lily didn’t let go of her arms. They stared at each other for a moment, and Chrys found it funny that Lily was as stunned by this turn of events as she was, but she wasn’t able to laugh.
Then Lily released her and pushed loose strands of her hair around. “So, um …”