Chapter Fifty-Two
FIFTY-TWO
THE WALK TO THE HALF-MOON clearing of Hanging Rock is preternaturally quiet. Campus is eerily empty besides the path lighting the way to the chapel, of course. I tug my hood down, shielding my face as I enter the trail.
A black hoodie to match my black leggings.
Black Docs and thick black socks that peek out from the tops of my boots.
Black clothes in mourning. In retribution.
In resistance. For my ancestors. For Gigi.
For Kai and Lucas and summers in Earnest. For the version of myself that was left in Pine Grove months ago.
For this version of myself if she dies tonight.
I trudge through the gloomy forest, the November chill seeping through my clothes and stinging my cheeks. My hands are tucked under my armpits, my breath turning to clouds in front of my face. I take care not to stumble over the craggy roots and rocks, long-dead leaves crunching beneath my feet.
As I approach the clearing, the past floods in.
Interlocked fingers and hidden smiles beneath a crimson moon.
Music and hands all over me, sharp eyes following the way my mouth crested his skin.
A night that ended with a plunge into the eternal abyss.
I push away the thoughts of malevolent raven masks and the hedge maze.
Of the ancestors who refused to help me, despite knowing the role I’m destined to play.
I ignore the parts of this that still don’t quite make sense.
I feel his presence before he breaks through the trees. My heart racing in my chest, sparks at the back of my neck. I don’t think about how I’ve missed them. I press my hands against my thighs until my wrists ache, begging the tremors to stop. Instead my shoulders tense.
Killhimkillhimkillhim, the whispers croon.
I think I might.
The pendant at my throat grows warm in his presence, and I wrap my fingers around it in response.
It’s a warning that I fight to not find comfort in.
When he comes into view, I take a step back.
He’s wearing navy shorts, his legs of flesh and metal exposed to the elements.
A gray BMA Mountain Wolves hoodie covers his torso, the hood draped between his shoulder blades, the hunter’s mark hidden beneath his sleeves.
When he sees me, his arms cross his chest.
I force a watery smile to my lips.
He shifts his weight, taking on a subtly defensive stance. His eyes are calculating, assessing. The first words out of his mouth take me by surprise. “What happened to your face?”
I touch the tender spot where a deep blue contusion has formed around the cut. I shrug.
“I thought I told you not to come back here.” His voice is gruff, but there’s confusion in it too.
Like he can’t figure out my angle, why I would risk myself like this.
“I just—” I don’t meet his eyes. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” I whisper, knowing he’ll have to strain to hear me. I stare at my hands.
“Like what?” he asks. His footsteps crunch against the dying earth as he ambles toward me. Slowly. Deliberately.
I look up as unshed emotion washes over his face, and he rakes his hands through his hair. “You never know when to give up. You think you’re invincible. Always have.”
Scanning the tree line, I choke down the pounding in my chest. What if there were a world where none of this had to happen? What if we could be better than the roles we’ve been given? What if we could be different?
“Odds you’ll leave with me?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You heard me.”
He sighs. “I’m not playing these games, Harper.”
“You have to,” I say. “Those are the rules. Always have been.”
“Well, I’m changing them.”
“You can’t.” Heat floods my cheeks.
“Yes, I can.”
“You want to kill me that bad?” I throw up my hands. “It’s worth everything to you? Every memory, every dream?”
He looks like I’ve slapped him.
“It’s worth my life?”
“Stop being so dramatic,” he says, his eyes devouring me.
I turn away. Lead him farther into the forest.
I can feel the warmth radiating off him as he follows too closely.
“I told you to run.” His fingers trail down my arm, and I jerk from his grasp. “What?” he murmurs. “Isn’t this why you wanted one last goodbye?”
He pulls my hood down and sweeps my curls over my shoulder, his lips pressing against the side of my neck.
I gasp, my eyes fluttering closed as his voice slithers into my ear.
“You know, I’ve tried and tried to resist my urges. But every time you come back to me, my resolve lessens.”
In the distance a twig snaps.
Lucas, right on time.
Turning, I let my fingers idle on the drawstrings of his hoodie. “You lied to me,” I murmur, looking at him from beneath my lashes.
“I didn’t lie to you,” he whispers.
When I take a step back, confusion tugs in the middle of his brows before he steps forward. I step back. He steps forward. Until my shoulder blades are brushing against the hard bark of a large maple tree.
I glance around, assessing my positioning.
Perfect.
He cages me in, his hands resting on either side of my face. I hold my breath, barely stopping myself from shrinking just to gain a second to think.
“Harper.” His voice is mocking. Cruel. “I never lied to you. I told you from the very beginning that you didn’t belong at this school. I warned you every chance I got. But you’re so fucking stubborn and hardheaded and you don’t listen. That’s not my fault.”
I shake my head, lifting my hand to rest against his chest—it’s so hard, rising and falling so fast that my own breath quickens in response.
A different kind of darkness flashes in his eyes.
“You’re a hunter,” I say, my voice barely louder than a whisper.
“And you’re a witch.”
There. We’ve said it.
There’s a war playing on his face, and I know that in this moment he is torn between two things. Whether to kiss or kill me.
It’s a good thing I don’t have that same dilemma.
“So, what now?” I ask, the rage still ever present, the magic unfurling inside me.
“You know what you have to do.”
Vertigo spins the world beneath my feet.
“What?” I ask, reaching toward his face. “Hey, look at me, we don’t have to do this.” I trace the stubble on his cheek with my fingers, dragging one across his bottom lip. “We’re stronger than them. We don’t have to play the parts they’ve written for us.”
“You know it doesn’t work like that…” His eyes dart back down to my lips as I run my tongue over them. “The second you stepped foot back in Earnest, you left me no choice.”
“Don’t do this,” I plead, forcing myself to not look over his shoulder, to not search for my accomplice.
I coat my skin in my power, wrap it around myself like armor.
Where is Lucas?
Malachi lowers his head, his lips almost grazing mine. “Your magic. I can smell it on you. The way you coat yourself in it. Like that will protect you. Like it doesn’t call to me, sing to me, beg me.
“You’ve made a huge mistake,” he whispers in my ear—and that’s it, any tenuous hold I had on my magic slips.
Every evening practicing my control over my power in my room, every moment of suppression, kneading the golden rope into a ball that grew tighter and tighter until it was imprinted on the fabric of me.
It’s not perfect, but it’s mine. And I will wield it as such…
as long as those witches stay out of it.
I shield my eyes against the blinding bolt that flows from my hand and into the ground.
Into the ground?
My head snaps toward the empty space where Malachi had once been.
Shock ricochets through me, but I have no time to process.
A hand snakes into my hair, gripping it and throwing me to the ground.
I hit the cold forest floor with a thump and roll, gasping for the air that’s been stolen from me.
Panic explodes inside my chest as I pull myself up.
Crouching, I find Malachi facing me. He raises his hands, ready to fight.
“Did you think I couldn’t see right through you?” He shakes his head, disappointment pulling down the sides of his mouth. “I know you better than that, Harper.”
I roll up my sleeves as I stand. “You’re wrong. Maybe you’ve doubted me. My power. But that’s on you. Just remember, you chose this!”
I call upon the water that rests beneath the ground, remnants from the storm that recently passed.
The storm I caused. Internally I marvel at the way my power bends for me, twists and digs into the earth, sourcing the water and pulling it.
It seems as though something inside me has broken wide open.
I feel stronger.
More in control.
In a blink, Malachi jumps out of the way. His eyes widen as the ground begins to rumble and water lifts into the air, like raindrops but in reverse.
He shakes away his surprise and runs toward me. The droplets rush together, and I imagine a wall forming between us. Millions of specks congeal, and when Malachi reaches it, he hits the solid surface, falling back and rolling onto his feet.
“What the—?” He vibrates with rage.
I laugh.
Before—before Nora’s journal, before the resolve that hardened me, my power felt like a burden. But now there is something so delicious about the way it stings.
There’s something beautiful in being vicious.
But despite the rush making my head all fuzzy, there’s a strain as well. I’ve never pushed my magic like this. I drop the shield and retreat into the woods surrounding the clearing, the water trailing behind me.
I scan the trees as I pass, searching for black hair and eyes like clear skies.
A pit solidifies in my stomach. Somehow I know they’ve got him.
I try desperately to get my plan back on track without Lucas here to help.
Behind me Malachi’s footsteps echo through the forest, bouncing off the trees with a metallic ping. Even without the speed he’s been gifted, I would never be able to outrun him. I fling the water toward him in large bursts, and he sputters as they hit him in the face. My chest aches from exertion.
As I reach the edge of the tree line, I increase my speed, skidding into a new clearing with a steep drop-off down the mountain. I turn, another bolt of electricity simmering in my palm.
I watch as Malachi’s prosthesis snags on the protruding root of a large oak, and he goes flying. He drops into a roll, and I scramble backward as he uses his hands to propel himself up, dirt streaked across his cheeks.
He stands, chest heaving as he stares me down, spitting dirt off to the side. His hair and hoodie are soaked, and I don’t hide the triumphant grin that tugs at my lips.
But my moment of pride is cut short when I see the determination in his eyes.
“This ends now!” he snarls, charging forward.
I lift my hands, ignoring my uncertainty as he rushes me, with no regard for the fact that by doing so, he’s running full tilt toward the edge of a cliff.
I release the water, letting it pool at my feet.
When he reaches for me, I drop, and we slip in the mud I’ve created.
My back hits the ground with the force of our combined weight, and I scream as a searing pain rips through me.
I claw at his face, digging my nails into his cheeks.
I use my weight to my advantage and tug him closer as I roll, pinning him beneath me, bookending his hips with my thighs.
I press my hands to his chest and call the magic. I look down my nose at him, this boy turned monster.
His palms slide across my thighs, his fingers hooking behind my knees and I curse, tightening my core as he twists his hips, flipping us until I’m once again on my back beneath him.
He’s leaning over me, his face contorted into someone I no longer recognize. He’s panting, his eyes wild, the silver chain with the unusual symbol dangling over my face.
A pendulum brushing my lips over and over again.
Something wet splashes against my cheeks, and I find it curious that, with all my magic focused on the fight, I haven’t called any storms.
I pull my power back into my core, racking my brain for any idea of how to save myself.
I sing to the water in Malachi’s blood as he grabs my throat.
Panicking, I flail my limbs. Exhaustion is slowing me down.
He pins my arms with his legs as he straddles my chest, and the hard metal of his prosthesis feels like it’s tearing the muscle from the bone. I scream in agony.
It’s too familiar. Vomit crawls up my throat. Was Malachi the one who hurt me in the maze? Did he save me from his own evil machinations?
I turn my face, avoiding the dangerous glint in his eyes as I pull the water from his blood and leak it into his lungs. My head pounds from concentration, my vision slowly fading as the sound of Malachi’s coughing fills my ears.
I buck my hips as hard as I can until I’m straddling him once again.
Ragged, wet gurgles seep from him as he clutches his throat.
Terror fills me as I watch his face turn red, then purple, then blue…
Nora’s journal entries assault me.
Dorothea—no, Lucille and the white man.
The battle between our kinds has gone on for far too long.
But today will be the beginning of the end.
Kai’s eyes bulge, the veins in his neck protruding as his arms go limp. I stare down at him defiantly.
That’s when I finally see them. The tears. Slipping down his face, his lips moving in prayer.
“Stop it!” I croak, my voice hoarse. But for some sick reason, I pull my power back just enough to let him speak.
“Thank you,” he groans. “If I was going to go,” he struggles, “I promised myself…”
As his eyes begin to close, relief floods his face.
A single tear snakes down and drips from the tip of my nose.
It splashes against his blue lips.
Confusion unravels inside my chest.
There’s no way he was the one in the hedge maze. I can remember it clearly, the feel of the person’s legs against my sides. Flesh and bone. No metal. No carbon fiber.
I pull back on my power a little more. Just enough to see the color return—
A sharp crack across my skull, and a bright-white light.
The magic snaps back inside me like a stray bullet.
And then, everything goes dark.