Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Katherine’s hand clenched reflexively around her knife, her anger bubbling to the surface, pushing the words out of her: “Well, as the camp’s first graduate, let me just say—that is absolute bullshit.”
Silas blinked twice. Katherine hadn’t meant to admit that.
He thought back to the initial conversation he’d had with Sylvia about unsettled witches in Aestas, and he knew Katherine had not been on that list. The flush crawling up her neck and the tension in her body suggested there was a reason for that.
She was gripping her butter knife like a sword, her knuckles white against the gleaming metal.
“I didn’t—” she started, at the same time as he said, “You don’t—” They both stopped, staring at each other across the table like they were about to duel.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Silas said, breaking the tense silence. “I can forget you said that.”
She loosed a breath, her face softening in surprise. Like it was a foreign concept that he would be coming to her with any form of human decency rather than scrambling for every potential leg up.
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “For the general dickishness, or something in particular?”
“For making assumptions when I clearly lacked the knowledge to say anything of actual value.”
Katherine laughed. No snort, a sound he was quickly coming to crave, but a small, tinkling laugh that he might have liked just as much if it hadn’t still been tinged with disdain. “Well, I accept.”
Silas leaned in, resting his elbows on the table. “In the spirit of total honesty, I know very little about unsettled witches. Only my parents’ official Noctis lines, which I’m learning may not be as true as I thought.”
Katherine’s hand went to her chest in a mockery of shock. “Silas Khatri. Are you speaking ill of our lord and saviors Nina and Vikrant?”
He chuckled. “Believe it or not, I have quite a few issues with their leadership style. Among other things.”
The words sat between them, heavy. That alone was more than Silas had ever admitted to anyone other than Anika. An offering, in return for what she’d given him.
“I believe it,” she said, surveying him with those wide, almond-shaped eyes. Looking to see if he was going to cause her harm. He wasn’t. He couldn’t.
“I hope you can also believe that I would never use anything from your past against you,” he said, meeting her steady gaze. “Your clear integrity and loyalty to your coven tells me everything I need to know about the woman you’ve become. How you got to this point is none of my business.”
She kept staring at him, her expression blank.
“I got my magic when I was sixteen,” she finally said.
He held his breath, not wanting to make any move that would make her rethink this. He was surprised by how desperate he was to know more about her.
“It started with small flare-ups, little moments where I’d get mad and something would fly off my desk, or a door would slam shut.” Katherine’s voice had gone quiet, so he had to lean closer to hear her properly.
“Did you tell anyone what was happening?”
Katherine shook her head. “I thought about telling my parents, but what was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, hey, Mom, sorry, but could you buy me a new computer? I got mad that Facebook wouldn’t load and it exploded.’” Silas winced.
His magic had never been out of control, always tied to the runes on his palms, but he’d still relied heavily on his family and his coven to teach him how to manage his power.
He couldn’t imagine having to do it alone.
“The snaps started getting bigger and bigger.” Katherine picked up her napkin, twirling it around her fingers as she spoke. Silas sat on his own hands so he wouldn’t reach out and take her hands in his. Run his fingers over her palms and tell her it was all going to be okay.
Who was he to make it okay, anyway?
“And then one day…” She paused. Her next words were thick and rushed, forced out. “I blew up a school hallway. Killed three kids.”
Silas sucked in a breath. He still remembered the Q train snap his father had taken him to—the smell of ash in the air, the grunts of the firefighters as they dug bodies out of the remains of the train station.
He remembered his father slipping money to policemen and politicians, making calls, giving Silas lists of all the things they would need to do to get this in order.
That’s what snaps were to him—a horror to clean up.
Something he was not a part of. An example, his parents said, of a lack of control fueled by inherent malevolence.
But Katherine had been a kid. A scared kid who was alone and stuffed to the brim with a power she couldn’t even begin to understand.
And now she had to be plagued by that guilt for the rest of her life, a specter on her shoulder, yelling at her every time she used her magic. Reminding her of the cost.
No wonder so many formerly unsettled witches avoided covens. Magic, to them, wasn’t a gift. It was a curse.
“I had to run, after that. There was no evidence to actually pin it on me, but everyone knew who to blame.”
“And your family?”
Katherine shrugged. “Believed them, I guess. I was a good kid, but I’d been acting strangely for months. Regular people snap too, sometimes.”
Silas bit back a curse.
“I made it to LA, and Sylvia found me. Gave me a new name. Changed my face. And then found an empty campsite for us in Oak Grove and helped me figure out how to avoid killing anyone else until I settled.”
Silas surveyed her—her thick hair, straight nose, full lips.
He landed on her eyes. Wondered what they used to look like, and then decided he didn’t care, because no matter what changes Sylvia had made, Katherine’s eyes could never be anything other than supremely her own.
The way they sparked when she was being sarcastic, widened whenever he said anything that punctured the privileged persona he put forward, narrowed when he spewed bullshit she could see right through. That was all her.
“I owe everything to Sylvia,” she said, those eyes flicking down to the table. “If it weren’t for her … I was burned out from the effort of trying not to snap again. I was dying. She saved me.”
Silas’ heart pinched. That was who he was here to take down. Her savior.
“Katherine Holt,” she said quietly. “My real name. It’s been a long time since I’ve said that.”
Now, Silas did reach for her, pulling her hand out of her napkin and wrapping her fingers in his. Her palm was soft, her grip light as her eyes lifted to meet his.
“Thank you,” Silas said. “For telling me.”
“Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime you need someone to listen, I’m here. You can be honest with me, Katherine. I promise I’ll do the same.”
She paused, and he thought he’d gone too far. Maybe this connection he felt was one-sided. She had every reason not to trust him.
But then, she spoke: “Okay.”
They finished their meals in silence. When they were done, Silas watched as she stood.
Pictured wrapping his arms around her, feeling her head resting against his chest as he sank into the soft citrus scent of her hair.
The sigh she would let out as she leaned further into him, the breath whooshing out of his chest at the same time, so any remaining distance between them completely disappeared.
He didn’t stand. He just let her walk out the door.