Chapter 26 #2
Morgan sighs a long sigh. “I mean, yes. People do break them, but it’s not exactly commonplace.
It’s like…like a quadriplegic suddenly walking again, or beating stage 4 cancer.
It can happen, but practically speaking, it just…
doesn’t. Not that often.” She puts two fingers to her temple and rubs, like she’s trying to massage her thoughts into order.
“You have to find out what the curse is, for starters. The exact conditions that spell out what it is and what it makes happen, in precise language. A curse’s effects and its cure are always intertwined—otherwise, it won’t stick.
Then you have to do whatever the curse obliges. ”
“So another riddle,” I say, trying not to let despair creep into my voice.
“No offense, but I can kind of see why Kai hates magic so much,” I mutter.
Morgan pats my hand, snorting softly. “Yeah, well. Ask me, his isn’t exactly a reasoned opinion.”
“Meaning what?” I frown, considering. “Why does Kai hate magic so much?”
"You mean besides being a contrarian bastard?
" Morgan shakes her head. "I don't know. I think... he sees, and not incorrectly, maybe, that it's addicting or overpowering, uncontrollable in a way that’s…” She drums her fingers on the outside of her glass, her blush-colored nails tink-tinking against the surface.
“A little, you know. Too close to home.”
I tip my head, not quite following.
Morgan’s expression shifts, and she lowers her voice. “Kai’s mom? She overdosed. That’s…basically when Luther took him in. After that.” She presses her lips together. “Apparently he’d been trying to do CPR for hours when they found her.”
The room tilts.
Goddammit. Goddammit.
The night at the lake. Kai's voice. Kai's hands on my chest, pressing, counting. Kai's face when I opened my eyes—wrecked, wild.
I thought he was just scared. Adrenaline.
I didn’t…
My eyes burn. I blink it away, hard.
"I didn't know," I say out loud. My voice sounds strange.
"Yeah, well. He doesn't exactly advertise it.” Morgan sips her beer again. “And I don’t begrudge anyone their trauma, obviously. But it’s honestly a little reductive to say magic is addicting. Now, obviously, it can have corrupting effects, but…”
She trails off as her eyes flick to the photograph on the wall.
To the dark-haired, sharp-eyed girl.
"Is that what happened?" I ask. "To Vivian? Like an overdose?”
"Well," Morgan says, her eyes alight with the spark of someone who's thought far too long and deeply about a subject and has been waiting for a chance to unload.
"If you ask me, and I guess you did ask me, yes and no.
" She chews her bottom lip. "I think, based on what I've been able to piece together, that she was just naturally good at it, and her mentor was so eager to teach this brilliant young student that her training wheels ended up coming off too fast. The magic started taking her for a ride, not the other way around.”
I frown. “Her mentor?”
“Whoever was training her.” Morgan shrugs. “I’m team self-study, but I’m not trying to, like, re-knit the fabric of the universe, or whatever. The level Vivian was operating on would have needed someone to show her the ropes.”
“Someone here?” Now I look at the photograph, the students and professors posing on a long-past summer’s day.
“Maybe,” Morgan says. “It’d be pretty fitting for medievalists here, wouldn’t it?” She shrugs. “Whoever it was, either they couldn't keep up with her, or they let her run too fast on purpose."
Something about the way she says it makes me uneasy. Let her run too fast on purpose. The back of my neck prickles.
"Why would someone do that?"
“Dunno,” Morgan says simply. "Maybe they wanted to see what would happen. And…what happened was she got magically bound to a lake for eternity.” She sips her beer, thinking. "I guess in that sense, I kind of see Kai's objection. Kind of a raw deal.”
I’m about to ask Morgan what she means by that when a shriek rips through the air.
“Oh my God!”
There’s the scuffling sound of feet, and then a heavy, ugly thud.
Morgan’s on her feet immediately, leaping to where a crowd has knotted up by the bar—around someone on the floor, I realize.
“Oh my God,” I murmur. “Is that—”
“Elena!” Small, blonde Claire’s face is racked with panic as she falls to her knees, glancing from Elena’s crumpled form to the bystanders. “Someone do something!”
“Move,” Morgan all but barks, and for once Claire obeys, darting out of the way so that Morgan can roll Elena to her back. And when she does—
“Jesus,” I gasp.
Elena’s face is covered in purpled, bleeding lesions.
“Oh my God!” Claire falls backward in shock, a hand pressed to her mouth. Morgan grimaces, but doesn’t flinch, pushing away people by the shins and trying to peer more closely at Elena. “She’s dying!”
“Not if I can help it.” Morgan jumps to her feet, snaps her fingers at one of Elena’s guy friends—her boyfriend, maybe? “You. Pick her up. We’re going to carry her back to the dorms. Then I can take a better look at her.”
The boyfriend nods and crouches, scooping Elena gently from the floor. Morgan strides back to our booth for her coat, and I rush after her.
“Morgan,” I say, voice low but urgent. “Elena—she told me she was getting over the flu. She might just be—”
“Does that look like the flu, Gwenna?” Morgan’s voice is firm. “It’s worse than that. And I don’t need honey to tell.” She swings on her coat, grabs her bag. “It’s not just the land dying anymore.”
I’m frozen in place, stunned. One single thought running through my head on loop.
Is this my fault?
And not for the first time, I wonder if Morgan can read my mind. Because out loud, she says, “I’m sorry, Gwenna.”
Like even she’s running out of ways to help me from ruining everything.