Chapter 15 - Owen
The next day, I encourage Trina to see Sadie. She’s tired and worn down but agrees, and we meet Sadie in the park in the early afternoon. The girls sit together in the grass, not far away from me, in a little circle Sadie made with her magic.
Trina looks fragile, her skin very pale in the warm light of the sun. It concerns me to see her looking so weak, but I feel like awakening her powers might be the only thing that can help her.
Now that her aunt’s curse is broken, surely she’ll be able to use her magic?
“Okay,” Sadie says encouragingly. “Let’s try that one again. Cross your fingers just like this. Good. Now repeat after me—”
“It’s not working,” Trina almost wails with frustration. “I can feel it inside me, but none of these phrases or hand signals are doing a damn thing.”
“Alright,” Sadie says, trying to sound hopeful. “We’ll figure something out, I promise.”
“Why isn’t this working?” Trina asks. “Is this how you awakened your powers?”
“Well…” Sadie begins a bit hesitantly. “I always had mine. There were lots of small incidents over my life that I thought were coincidences or my imagination getting away from me, but looking back, it was all my magic trying to get free.”
“Well, I’m painfully ordinary,” Trina says dully. “Nothing weird or special has ever happened to me.”
“Didn’t the girls say you had a spooky experience at one of the town’s haunted locations?”
“Oh, that? I’m not the only one who walked away from those places with a bag full of nightmares. There’s nothing strange there.”
“Hmm,” Sadie replies. “I’m not so sure. It could be a sign of your increased sensitivity, and the blocks on your magic made it impossible for it to fully awaken at that time.”
“Does it actually help us right now?” Trina asks.
Sadie shakes her head, sighing. “Sadly, no,” she answers. “Your powers are unlocked, I can tell that much. It’s giving you control of it that’s the problem.”
“Don’t give up,” I say encouragingly.
Trina looks up at me with surprise, and I give her what I hope is an encouraging smile.
She tries to smile back, but doesn’t quite manage it.
Her eyes slowly move back to her lap, and her shoulders slump as if she’s about to fall asleep right there in the grass.
I want to go in and comfort her, but Sadie told me to stay outside the circle in case I disrupted the process.
I wish I could help her. I feel so useless. I can’t help my pack. All I do is screw up with Trina.
Shaking my head, I push the dark thoughts away. I already visited the infirmary this morning, and even though no new cases were brought in overnight, we still lost two people. Every death scars my heart. Another pack member I couldn’t save.
“Okay,” Sadie says, taking a deep breath. “Let’s try something really simple.”
She reaches into her pocket and takes a key from her key chain, and places it in her palm. Then holds it out in front of her.
“Try to move it,” Sadie says.
“What do you mean, move it?” Trina asks.
“Whatever comes first to your mind. You could ask it to come to your hand, or try to make it rise up—I don’t want to blur your head with too many ideas. Just go with your gut.”
Trina sighs and looks at the key. She frowns, and I can feel her frustration rising as she stares into Sadie’s palm. Nothing happens, and Trina looks so deathly pale, I start getting up to go to her.
“Not yet,” Sadie whispers.
Even though I don’t agree, I stay still.
To my surprise, the key shimmies back and forth a bit, then flips over. Trina gasps, her body sagging as if she can’t hold herself up, and I rush into the circle to put my arms around her.
“Trina, are you okay?”
“I’ve got a bit of a headache,” she says, leaning on my chest. “But I’m okay.”
Well, you look like absolute fucking hell, but I’m not going to say that out loud.
“You should stop,” I say. “You’ve done enough for now.”
“I don’t know,” Sadie says. “Sometimes pushing past the point of comfort is exactly what’s needed. If she can fully link up to her powers, it will rejuvenate her.”
“That sounds like a big risk,” I reply. “She could get hurt doing that, couldn’t she?”
Sadie nods. “She might.”
“Then we aren’t doing it.”
“Sadie,” Trina says softly. “Here’s the thing. I can feel it, even if I can’t use it, and I can tell I’ve got nothing on you.”
“I know,” Sadie replies with regret. “You have power, but it’s very faint.”
“What?” I ask. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t have strong magic,” Trina says. “Maybe my mother and my aunt did, but I definitely don’t.”
“It’s barely a spark,” Sadie confirms.
I put my arms around Trina more tightly, feeling her holding on to me. I want to comfort her, but I’m way out of my depth. And if her powers aren’t strong enough to save my pack, then all of this has been for nothing.
We finish up, walking through the woods together back to my house. Sadie goes to her car, promising to catch up soon and try again. Trina goes to relax in the bath while I cook dinner, trying to keep my dark thoughts at bay by keeping my hands busy.
I’m putting the food on the table when Trina comes out, wrapped in one of my robes. It’s way too big for her, and she looks tiny and fragile. When she sits down, she has to push the sleeves right up past her elbows to reach for her plate.
“Can I help?” I ask.
She chuckles softly. “If I can’t feed myself, then I’m really in trouble,” she says, pushing the sleeves up again so she can pick up her cutlery. “Thank you for this.”
“No problem,” I reply, my voice soft. While we eat, I try to think of something to talk about, but under our current circumstances, everything seems too frivolous or dangerously depressing.
I can’t exactly ask “what’s your favorite movie” under these conditions, and I definitely won’t be telling her how bad things are getting at the infirmary. She’ll just blame herself.
Trina eats with a decent appetite and seems to brighten up, which gives me hope, but I can still sense terrible pain inside her. And even though I’m sure it’s emotional, it will manifest as physical if we don’t address it.
How? I’m not good at this at all. What do I say to her?
“Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” I ask. “I’m here to listen.”
Trina shakes her head miserably. “Thank you, Owen. I just don’t have any words in me right now. Dinner was nice, though.”
“No trouble at all. I’ve always been good in the kitchen.”
“Well, that makes me happy. How are you with cake?”
“Not great,” I admit, trying to lighten the mood. “My batter always comes out wrong—or I burn them. I gave up trying.”
“Okay,” she laughs. “Stick to savory, then. Your lasagna is top-tier.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I could find some dessert for you—”
“No, it’s okay,” she replies. “I’m just going to lie down for a while. I’m so exhausted.”
I watch her leave the table, the sense of helplessness in me getting worse by the second. I clean up the kitchen, but it does nothing to distract me, and once I’m done, I end up going up to Trina’s room to see how she is.
To my shock, she’s sitting on the bed, her face in her hands, sobbing quietly. I’m by her side in an instant, desperate to hold her and make the pain go away.
“Trina,” I choke out. “Are you okay?”
She shakes her head, and I sit down in front of her, holding out my arms. It’s a relief when she shuffles forward and snuggles into my chest, my body rippling with pleasure just to hold her and ease her pain.
“Try not to think about it,” I say. “Just get some rest for now.”
“How can I not think about it?” she says. “People are dying, and my magic is so weak, I can’t even do what I came here to do!”
My heart sinks as I realize she’s ashamed of how little power she has and that we might be suffering through this for nothing.
Worse than nothing. We could all just die. Even Trina, from the way this is going.
I tighten my arms around her, refusing to contemplate that possibility. I rack my brain for a bit, trying to think of something to say that will cheer her up and not remind her of how hopeless our situation is.
“Why are tulips your favorite flower?” I ask.
Trina chuckles. “Why are you asking me this now?”
“Witch powers are nature-based,” I reply. “Or so I’ve heard. Maybe there’s a link.”
“Well, it’s no big mystery,” she says. “They were the first flowers I planted with my mother. We had a small cottage out of town until I was about ten—that’s when I moved to my aunt’s. My mother had a beautiful garden, but I remember the tulips, specifically.”
“What do you remember?” I ask, stroking her hair.
“I remember… the grass under my knees, and my hands in the soil. Tulips grow from a bulb, and they die and come back every year. My mom told me they illustrate the flow of life through all things.”
“Did she teach you magic? It sounds like she tried.”
Trina shakes her head. “Not directly. Or at least, not from what I remember. She talked a lot about harmony, balance, and how we will always have our path smoothed out for us if we work within these rhythms. She never talked about spells or curses.”
“It is a curse that infects the pack,” I reply. “I haven’t really been clear enough on that. It manifests in a few different ways, but it’s a curse. It’s not biological.”
“Sadie can’t break it?”
“She did—for Rhys’s pack. Nothing has happened here, or with Shane’s pack.”
“Does that mean Shane also has wolves that are sick and dying?” she asks.
I nod. “Yes. At the moment, it’s happening more rapidly with my people, but his pack is affected.”
Trina cuddles a bit closer to me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “All of this, under my nose, the whole time,” she says softly. “I was just working my normal job, having a normal life, and meanwhile, wolves and witches were all around me. Not so long ago, I would have found it exciting.”
I chuckle a little. “Well, it has been, I’d say.”
“Yeah,” she laughs. “You’re not wrong.”
“Now that you have your memories back,” I begin carefully, “is there anything you can remember about your aunt’s magic?”
Trina shakes her head. “No. I have no idea what she did or how she did it. I know she had a great influence in town. People just obeyed her. Worshipped and adored her.”
“She must have done a good job of cloaking her powers, or the wolves would have killed her,” I say. “Witches were executed on sight until not long ago.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Trina replies. “Her magic was all about mind-fucking people. I think I was the only one who ever saw her true face.”
“Your mother was supposed to be more powerful than her?”
“Apparently.”
“But your mother couldn’t heal herself?”
“She probably could have, but it would have gone against her beliefs. If the circle of life had chosen her time, she wouldn’t have gone against it.”
“And your aunt told you that your powers weren’t strong,” I say thoughtfully. “I suppose she would have been able to tell, right?”
“She would have made absolutely sure,” Trina says with finality. “It was her only purpose for me, and it became the reason why she abused me.”
Trina goes very quiet, and even though she’s still tucked against my chest, I can feel her emotionally withdraw.
“Trina,” I say gently. “Maybe you should talk about it.”
“Talk about what?”
“Your aunt. The things that happened to you.”
I feel her body tense up, all her muscles hardening at once as she pulls away from me to sit at the other end of the bed.
“I know that it happened now,” she says after a moment. “I’m consciously aware. What else would you like me to do?”
“You keep avoiding the issue,” I say. “Try talking to me about it. It might help.”
“Help who?”
“You. And us. And everyone else.”
She shakes her head. “Owen—”
“Try,” I say, reaching out for her hands. “Just trust me. Face your past.”
I watch Trina’s face slowly change from soft, tired frustration to fear, then full-on hostility. I realize at that moment that with my flippant manner and bright tone, I’ve trampled all over her pain instead of helping her face it in a healthy way.
“Trina—” I say, desperate to undo the damage I’ve just done.
“Get out!” she cries, pointing at the door. “Just get out!”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant. This is my pain, do you hear me? You have no right to ask about it. I was trapped, I was her prisoner—is that what you want to hear? I don’t mean in a theoretical, emotional abuse type of way, either. And trust me, you are the last person on earth I can talk to about this.”
“Trina,” the word rises on my lips, more a breath than a whisper. “I’m so, so sorry. Let me—”
“Get out!” she screams, pointing at the door. “I mean it, Owen, get the fuck out!”
I stand up and practically stagger towards the door. I feel like the strength has gone out of my body, and I can barely hold myself up.
It’s not the curse, either. It’s just me realizing what a complete fucking dick I’ve been.
I thought I had recognized and dealt with the guilt of kidnapping Trina. I’d acted out of impulse, and I hadn’t been in my right mind. All of that was the truth, and should have been enough to punish me.
But now I find out her aunt literally kept her prisoner. What the fuck did she do to Trina? She was just a child! Did the crazy old bitch kill her mother?
I put my hands over my face, really struggling now as I head towards my own room. I fully and completely understand my own actions, the horrible impact they’ve had on Trina, and her past trauma.
I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you, Trina. I promise you that.