Chapter 5 #2
"Yeah. I can't really explain why. I mean, Rhi's interpretation is definitely logical, but it just doesn't feel right."
"What would feel right?"
"Huh?"
"Look, I told you this before, I think, but Durupinen have different gifts, just like witches do.”
“Yeah, we actually talked about that at the meeting,” I said.
“Right. So you already know that I’m a Muse, because spirits often communicate with me through my art, very similar to Bea’s gift.
But art is subjective, so even if someone else looks at one of my spirit-induced drawings, in the end, it’s my interpretation that matters, because I’m the one the message was for. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I think the same rule applies here. You are the one who asked the question. The answer was meant for you. How would you interpret it? What feels right?"
I took myself back to the moment when the bones and stones clattered to a stop in the bowl. What words had come into my head when I'd seen them?
"I need to journey into the past," I said. "But I don't actually know how to... I mean, that can’t be literal, right? It's not like I can time-travel. I might be a witch, but we’ve got limits to what our magic can do, and as far as I know, that's not in our skillset.”
Jess laughed. "Yeah, I didn't think it was in mine either, but I've done it. Well, sort of."
"Excuse me?" I gasped. “You… you time-traveled? You do realize that’s not a sentence you can just like… casually drop into conversation, right?”
Jess laughed. “Yeah, I’m a blast at parties.
But I wasn’t joking. The Durupinen have this Casting.
It’s called Rifting. It’s pretty obscure.
There’s really only one group of clans that uses it, the Traveler Clans, but I was lucky enough—or unlucky enough, depending on how you look at it—that I needed to use it a few times myself.
It’s sort of like… oh God, this is going to sound so bad. ”
“Why?”
“Jesus, I’m such a bad influence,” Jess muttered. “You go into a trance, induced by inhaling the fumes of some herbs and stuff.”
“So… like a drug trip?” I asked, stifling a laugh.
“See? I told you I was a bad influence,” Jess said.
But now I couldn’t stop giggling. “Jess, I don’t think a bad trip is the same as time travel.”
Jess snorted. “Okay, okay, I know it sounds like some sketchy hippie bullshit, but it’s really not.
It’s magic, probably not unlike the magic you use to communicate with your spirit guide ancestors.
It opened a door—quite literally—into this liminal space where I could look for answers.
My own ancestor was waiting for me there to deliver a message. ”
I had stopped laughing now. “Wait, so… you were looking for an answer to a specific question, and the Rifting gave it to you?”
“Pretty much.”
“What were you trying to—?”
“The details aren’t important, for the moment,” Jess said hurriedly. “That’s a story for another day, and it’s a good one, so remind me to tell you about it sometime, when you’ve got a few dozen hours to kill.”
My heart sped up. This sounded like exactly what I needed to do, from what the stones and bones had told me. “Is this something I can do? Rifting, I mean? Like, could you teach me?”
“Sorry, kiddo, but Rifting is only for Durupinen. I wouldn’t risk your safety letting you try it, even with your spirit witch abilities,” Jess said. “I’m irresponsible, but not that irresponsible.”
“Wasn’t the whole point of this conversation that you wouldn’t be overprotective, like my mother?” I asked, a little grumble in my tone.
“Hey, this isn’t overprotective, this is just common sense. Would you walk into Shadowkeep, pull a potion off a shelf, and drink it without knowing what it does?” she asked.
“No,” I muttered grudgingly.
“Exactly. Same deal. But that’s not my point. My point is, there are ways—magically speaking—to look into the past, and Rifting surely isn’t the only one. In fact, we experienced one version of it together, in the Circle with Sarah Claire, remember?”
“Of course I remember! How do you forget dropping like a stone into someone else’s memories? That’s how we found out that… that…”
I trailed off, my mind spinning. I had journeyed into the past through Sarah’s memories. Was that what the stones and bones were trying to tell me?
Jess went on, “So, sure, you might not be able to time travel, but, like me, you might find a magical alternative. Just think, is there any magic you’ve come across that might work in a similar way?”
I thought hard, biting at my lip. “I’m really not sure. If we do, it’s not anything I’ve learned yet.”
“Is there anyone you could ask? Someone who won’t rat you out?”
“I’ll have to think about it. If that kind of magic exists in witchcraft, it’s probably very advanced, which also means I doubt I’d be able to pull it off.”
“Hey!” Jess snapped. “What kind of attitude is that?”
“The attitude of a person who doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing,” I muttered.
“Look, we’ve been through this,” Jess said, sounding stern. “You and I have a lot in common. I showed up at Fairhaven with zero knowledge of the Durupinen. I was surrounded by other Apprentices who had grown up steeped in Durupinen lore from the cradle. I caught up, and so will you.”
I didn’t answer. I knew she was right, but it was hard to see past my own frustration.
“So let’s troubleshoot here,” Jess went on, plowing right over my aggrieved silence. “It sounds to me like your most likely bet would be another spirit witch. Are there many of them in Sedgwick Cove?”
“I’m not sure how many there are altogether,” I said. “It’s the least common of all the elements for a witch to have an affinity with, so I know there aren’t as many as there are water witches or kitchen witches or green witches, for example.”
“But you know of some,” Jess pressed.
“Well, yeah, sure,” I admitted. “Xiomara is probably the most accomplished spirit witch in the Cove, but I can’t ask her about this. She’s in the Conclave, and she’s best friends with my Aunt Rhi. She’ll rat me out in a heartbeat if she thinks I’m doing anything dangerous.”
“That’s Bea’s grandmother, right?” Jess asked.
“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I trust her, and she’s been really kind helping me with my training, but I just don’t think this is something she would help me with.”
“Hmm, okay,” Jess said, clicking her tongue thoughtfully. “But she would be able to tell you who the other spirit witches are, couldn’t she?”
“Yeah,” I said slowly.
“And you could make up some excuse as to why you’re asking, even if it’s just idle curiosity?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“So there you go. That’s somewhere to start. Find out who the spirit witches are, and then at least you’ll know who might be able to help you.”
I considered. It couldn’t hurt just to know. It didn’t mean I then had to ask any of them to help me… well, unless I got really desperate, which was a likely scenario at this point.
“Okay, I’ll try,” I said.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
There was a pause. I could feel the tension in the silence as it stretched between us, across an ocean, across experiences no one else would ever fully be able to understand.
“Wren, I know it’s pointless to say that you’re not alone in this because, in some ways, you are.
No one else understands what it’s like to be you in this moment.
No one else is facing the same threat and the same uncertainty.
I’m not going to insult you by saying I know exactly how you feel.
But I’m here for you anyway. If there’s anything I can do, any help I can give, just pick up the phone, okay? ”
Just the words helped. The knot inside me loosened, and I felt just a little lighter.
“Thanks, Jess. I will.”
“You better,” Jess replied. I could hear the smile in her voice, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
After I ended the call and climbed into bed, I lay there for a long time staring at the ceiling.
My brain felt cluttered, like a closet shoved full of stuff that would all come tumbling out the moment someone opened the door.
Although I’d dreaded their arrival, I was glad that the Durupinen had come.
I felt better, knowing they were also invested in protecting the Source.
The Conclave had handled their presence better than I’d expected, even Ostara.
I knew it was a tenuous alliance, but at least it was an alliance, and that felt good.
The problem was, of course, that we were no closer to solving the problem of the Darkness.
The Durupinen had no more insight into who or what it might be than we did.
I hadn’t really expected them to be able to help—after all, Jess had had no experience with anything like the Darkness—but I knew now, from the hollow ache in my stomach, that part of me had been holding out hope for a solution.
Now the Durupinen were gone, and I was in the same position I’d been before: facing an enemy I didn’t understand, and therefore couldn’t defend myself against.
And then, of course, there was the Covenant.
I knew the Covenant wasn’t put in place to protect me, but I had never doubted that it would, at least, protect the Source.
That had been a comfort to me, that even if the Darkness somehow reached me, tricked me, or otherwise found some way to access my magic, that at least the Source—and therefore, Sedgwick Cove—would be safe.
But now I knew that wasn’t true. Now I knew that the reason it was so determined to ensnare me was that my magic was the one thing that could override the Covenant.
Vesper blood created it. Vesper blood could break it.
And of course, in this moment, that meant only one Vesper in particular.
I hadn’t forgotten Nova’s words. I knew I would never intentionally break the Covenant.
But that wouldn’t stop the Darkness from trying anyway, so I needed to prepare myself.
The anxiety bubbling in my stomach at the thought propelled me right off my bed, and into a bout of frantic pacing.
Jess was right. I had to trust my own interpretation of the answer I had received. There were so many ways I relied on my family and other teachers to help me through my rushed magical education, but this was not one of them. At some point, I would have to learn to start trusting myself.
It was strange for me to feel so unsure of myself.
All my life, I’d been fairly confident in my own decisions.
Whether it was school or theater, I had always known my strengths and played to them.
I trusted my instincts when it came to meeting people and navigating friendships.
I accepted that being onstage was not for me, and had thrown myself so thoroughly into stage management that it was only a semester or two before I was basically running the theater.
I may have gotten anxious about new experiences, but I’d never run away from them.
I’d pushed through, adapted, and found my place, even if it wasn’t the place I’d expected to fit.
It was almost as if, in discovering this new version of myself, I’d completely abandoned the old version.
But it didn’t have to be that way, did it?
I caught sight of my own reflection as I paced, and stopped. I walked over to the mirror hanging on my wall. The frame glittered with the soft blues and greens of sea glass as I focused on the face looking back at me, searchingly, imploringly.
I faced myself in the semi-darkness of my bedroom, staring into my own eyes.
My pupils were dilated, my eyes like dark windows in my too-pale face behind my glasses.
I saw fear and uncertainty, but there was something else, too—hiding, perhaps, but still very much there.
It was… something like determination. A refusal to simply lie down and give up, and let the inevitability of this whole mess consume me.
I hadn’t been sure it would be there, but there it was, damn it.
Staring right back at me like the flame in a sputtering candle, refusing to go out.
I won’t be like Sarah, it whispered fiercely. I won’t be like Bernadette.
My eyes burned back at me from the mirror, full of determination. The sight of it made me feel better.
I’ll find out what they didn’t know. I’ll find out what the Darkness is, and that knowledge will keep me safe.
And as I made this promise to myself, as I set it in stone in my mind and in my heart, over the shoulder of my reflection, a second figure appeared.
It was only a flash, an impression that vanished in the blink of an eye, but even so, I didn’t doubt for even a second that I had really seen it.
The figure hovered just over my shoulder, as if it, too, were trying to assess whatever emotions were shining in my eyes.
For a fraction of a second, the figure’s eyes and my eyes locked onto each other, and I had the sensation of falling.
Falling…
No. Stop.
At the words, the sensation vanished with the figure itself, leaving me breathless and clutching at the desk chair in front of me. But though I was suddenly dizzy and off-balance, my mind was remarkably clear. I knew who I had seen in the depths of that mirror.
It was the Darkness, and it was waiting for me to follow.