Jasmine
The sky is red. Sweat drips down my forehead, landing on my black-stained hand as I raise my palm toward the sky.
This isn’t real.
“Late?” I ask, slowly turning around to see Marisole jogging toward me. Her black hair is tied back in two braids, but she looks flawless. She always does.
“I know you don’t want to see father today, but he has news of Liam.”
This is one of my least favorite memories, and one I often have to re-live. It won’t end until I do what she says and follow her.
“Okay, Mar, let’s go.” My lips curl into a small smile, the best I can do when I know the information I’m about to learn.
“Why are you angrier than normal? That’s my job.” Marisole bumps into me, throwing me slightly off balance.
“This is a nightmare.” I say, and dream-Marisole only laughs.
When I blink next, I find us in the throne room.
My father has one scout, no, two scouts, wrapped in shadows.
He’s yelling at them, but I don’t remember what he told them, so to me it sounds like a foreign language.
My memories only surface the moments that matter: my father banging the scouts on the ground like a hammer while he demanded answers, Marisole holding my hand and whispering everything will be okay, and the two scouts dying.
My father killed ten more scouts that night asking them questions.
No one could answer where Liam, his prized scout and his heir, went.
I startle awake, gripping the closest thing to my sides. There’s light pressure on my lower back, moving in small circles. My eyes flutter, finding a tuft of white blanket in my lap.
“You…You okay?” Jake’s voice surprises me from the left.
Grabbing the blanket, I toss it off my lap and swing my legs to the side, off the mattress.
“Yeah, um…yeah.” Every word is quieter than the last as I try to slow my breathing, but my chest rises and falls at a rapid pace.
The mattress rises as Jake gets up, then sinks when he sits next to me. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t try to hold my hand. He breathes with me, which gives my brain time to catch up.
“I didn’t mean to stay overnight.” I should have set an alarm; I should never have climbed into his bed. “Did I wake you?”
My gaze finds his, and he’s looking at me the same way others do after this happens: with narrowed brows and wandering eyes full of pity. “I’m sorry.” I rush the apology as I stand from the bed, needing space.
“Jaz,” Jake says, his hand quick to grip mine. He stops me in my place, not that I got far. “Wait. Talk to me.”
He gets up and comes to stand in front of me. My eyes lose focus with the ground as tears come, dropping to the space between our feet. Jake’s hands grip my shoulders, his thumbs soothing me with their even strokes against my skin.
“I have nightmares,” I whisper.
“Every night?”
“Most nights,” I respond. I don’t tell him the rest: some nights are worse than others, and sometimes I end up killing the people I love while trying to survive.
I don’t tell him that I often wake up after being beaten and berated for simply existing, or that my nightmares twist memories until my mind struggles to tell what’s real.
“You’re safe here,” Jake says, and I know he’s trying to comfort me. He’s trying to be my knight in shining armor, but he has no idea what he wants to protect me from. He doesn’t know I’m the one who should protect him.
Instead of arguing or saying something I’d later regret, I allow myself to be pulled into his arms. He’s right, I suppose, about being safe.
There could be demons stalking outside, waiting for me, yet as soon as Jake is near me, my entire body relaxes. My breathing becomes regulated—deep, even—and I close my eyes when my head meets his chest.
Jake runs his hand through my hair, each stroke reminding me he’s not here to betray me. Or, I hope not, at least. If he had bad intentions, I would hope my body would be on high alert, and the bond between us would weaken.
“You know,” Jake says, his voice soft. “When I have a panic attack, there are times I wish it would go away quickly. It’s like a nightmare, kind of.
You can’t easily predict what will happen, but its effects are lasting.
But eventually, I learned often it takes time.
Some take more time than others, but eventually, the dread—the emptiness—will pass. ”
I lift my head from his chest, not expecting him to tell me something personal. “You have panic attacks?”
Jake nods. “It’s less frequent now. I’m on medicine. It’s, uh, not something I’ve told many people.”
“You’re the first person to learn about my magic in the decade that I’ve been in Fernhollow.”
“You haven’t told anyone you work with?” Jake asks, and I shake my head. “Wow.”
“It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, you know. I just—”
“Have trouble trusting others?”
I bite my bottom lip, nibbling to calm the nerves threatening to fray. “Yeah. And you’re…well, you’re you.”
“I’m me,” Jake says with a chuckle. He leans forward and presses a kiss on my forehead like it’s something he does often. “Breakfast might help take your mind off of everything. Do you have time? Or do you have to go to work today?”
“I do have to work, but I have time for breakfast.”
“Let’s do that, and we can talk about what we found while reading yesterday.”
I force a smile at Jake, but mentioning reading brings back the steps that led me here: the library, the demons, Jake’s discovery of my powers. One step closer to him learning my true identity.
Breakfast ends up being quick because I forgot to check the time when I woke. My mind was too full of panic. I also have a secret errand to run in town, and to make it to work on time, I need to leave within the hour.
One bagel and a cup of coffee later, plus plans to have dinner tonight after a few tries to keep my distance, I head out of the hotel and down the street to my next stop.
Rebecca’s Spell Shop.
It’s been years since I’ve been there, and although I see her in the vet every so often for one of their dogs, I’ve never entertained a friendship. She’s sweet, and I could see us being close, but befriending a witch while trying to hide my identity would have been destined for problems.
After walking east a few blocks, back near where my car is parked, I turn down an alleyway to get to the next street over.
Here, there’s a small, red-brick building with various candles and vases of dried herbs and flowers in the front window.
It’s hot in the summer heat, but looking at her store reminds me of summer nights with Marisole, when we would explore various areas of the Underworld.
The ground and the window are lined with various plants, which have to be spelled to stay in perfect condition regardless of the climate. The building emits a certain aura, as if it’s drawing me in naturally to visit, to shop, to feel welcome regardless of my background.
Tourists and locals alike love Rebecca. From what I’ve heard from Katrina, Rebecca hands out tonics to those in need and drops everything for this community.
I think that’s why the vet hardly sends her a bill.
Fernhollow protects its own, which might be true for a witch like Rebecca. But for a demon like me?
I shake my head.
Never.
The least I can do for this town is to try and protect them, and I hope I’m alive at the end to see the result. The first step is to contact Marisole.
She’s the one person I can confidently talk to.
Even with her being void of emotions, she’ll be there for me like she’s always been.
My current plan is falling apart, and I don’t have a clue what to do next.
I’m not ready to give myself over to my father, or any demon, for their own benefit.
I can’t tell Jake, because I worry he’ll hand me over to his alpha or the Council.
Every option feels like a trap, and that’s the part I can’t stop circling.
Even though I’ve met my fated, I’m still alone. No amount of false security will make me lower my guard. If I repeat that enough, maybe my heart will stop beating so hard around Jake.
The bell dings when I enter, and I’m hit with smells of lavender, pine, and vanilla.
At every turn, a new scent hits me, and if it weren’t for the calming instrumental music playing throughout the store, I might find myself overwhelmed.
Instead, my feet move of their own accord, walking toward the back corner of the store toward the collection of books.
Plants and string lights line the interior of the store like a fairytale cottage.
I meander about, bending down to inspect the various gems, tarot cards, tonics, and candles.
Quite a few of these have various side effects.
They range from not being able to remember the last five hours to forgetting the person you love.
I suppose, with anything, a risk has to be weighed.
When I reach the back wall where the books are, I flip through the various titles, not looking for anything in particular but simply perusing while I work up the courage to find Rebecca.
But it’s she who finds me.
“Hi, hi! I’m sorry, I was in the back and didn’t hear the bell ding.”
I turn around to find Rebecca walking toward me, her ruby-red hair swinging with every step. It’s pinned back with a light-pink silk scarf lined with tiny flowers. The short-sleeve black cotton dress she’s wearing hits below the knee and is paired with a thin red belt and matching red flats.
“Oh, no worries,” I say with a smile. “I was only looking.”
“Ah! Did you find anything of interest? Or is there anything I can help you find?” Rebecca asks. My mind is trying to catch up while simultaneously looking for an excuse to leave. “Or someone, perhaps?”