Chapter 16
The next two days were the absolute longest of my life.
Never had the hours dragged by so slowly.
Never had I lived in such a constant state of torturous anticipation.
Every time the phone rang, my heart leapt into my throat—I was sure we’d be busted, that somehow they’d figured out that we’d broken into the funeral home, or else they’d managed to track Jess down wherever it was she was hiding.
Every time I heard my name, I jumped like someone had slammed a door.
It was a damn good thing that everyone else at Lightkeep was as on edge as I was, or my mother surely would have noticed something was off.
Instead, we were all walking on eggshells, waiting for news that never came, and then speculating endlessly on why it hadn’t.
The difference, of course, was that I was the only one who was grateful it didn’t come. No news was good news, as far as I was concerned.
For the first time since I’d begun studying with her, Xiomara canceled my spirit communication lesson with her. I answered a knock at the door on Sunday to find her standing there, her expression tight and grim.
“There is no point, mija,” she said, her gravelly voice rougher and more hoarse than usual, like she hadn’t slept. “Until I can get past my block and understand what is interfering with my spirit gifts, I see no reason to waste your time and mine.”
“Is it really that bad?” I asked.
A spasm of emotion passed over Xiomara’s face before she could suppress it. “My efforts since last we spoke have been met with nothing but silence from the spirit world.”
I had no idea what to say. I was upset enough over my spirit gifts, but Xiomara had been practicing for decades.
She had come to rely on her spirit gifts—to seek the regular counsel of the Marin witches long passed, and to draw on their magic to aid in her own.
I couldn’t imagine what it must be like, to feel like such an intimate part of yourself had been stripped away with no explanation.
“What about Bea?” I asked. I hadn’t seen Bea since the night she arrived in the garden with Jess’ message.
Xiomara shook her head looking, if possible, even more lost. “It is the same with her. No contact. And I’ve taken the additional step of going around Sedgwick Cove.
I’ve spoken to every spirit witch in the Cove, as well as every witch I know who regularly uses spirit boards or other means of consulting with the dead. Everywhere it is the same. Silence.”
I swallowed hard. Any lingering doubts I had about my decision to help Jess vanished on the spot.
If everything she had told me was true—and I had no reason to doubt her—then she understood the spirit world better than anyone in Sedgwick Cove, and we needed her to help us understand just what the hell was happening.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” was all I could think to say to Xiomara. The words felt useless, and sure enough she waved them away impatiently.
“I need to talk to Rhiannon. Is she here?” she asked.
“Yeah, she’s in the kitchen, as usual,” I told her. “Head on back.”
Xiomara marched back toward the kitchen with all the familiarity her long friendship with Rhi had fostered.
She pulled out a chair at the round table, and settled herself into it with a grunt by way of greeting.
Rhi looked up from the three separate pots she had steaming on the stove and stepped away at once, lowering the heat.
“Xiomara! What is it? Did someone find… do we have anything new about—”
Again, Xiomara waved her hand like the questions were a fly that was annoying her. “No, no. I came to see you about Persi.”
Rhi threw a look at me over Xiomara’s head. We’d barely seen Persi since the night the grimoire was moved to the lighthouse. “Look, I know she’s being a bit… protective of the grimoire, but you can’t blame her Xiomara. We never thought we’d see it again, and—”
“It’s not about the grimoire,” Xiomara said. “Yes, she’s being insufferable about it, but it’s no more than we expected. No, this is about Persi and Bernadette.”
Rhi froze where she stood. “What about them?” she asked, her voice utterly blank with bewilderment.
“You know that Persi’s been visiting Bernadette?” Xiomara asked.
“Well, yes, of course,” Rhi said, wiping her hands on her dish towel as she sank into a chair opposite Xiomara.
“But surely no one is frowning on that? You know their history, Xiomara, they were…” Rhi stopped suddenly, glancing at me, before going on, “…they were so close. Surely you aren’t going to begrudge her visitors? ”
“No, it’s not that,” Xiomara said. “Goddess knows the poor girl’s been through enough. It’s only… well, you know Bernadette’s gifts.”
She said it in that loaded way that adults speak in front of younger people when they’re trying to refer to things indirectly. I bit down on the inside of my cheek in annoyance, but otherwise kept my face impassive.
“Yes, I do,” Rhi said, “and so does Wren, so please speak plainly, Xiomara.”
I could have hugged Rhi, but I stayed where I was. I did know all about Bernadette’s gifts. In fact, I’d found myself the subject of several of her prophetic paintings last spring when I first arrived in Sedgwick Cove.
Xiomara glanced at me, and then shrugged. “As you like. Bernadette has been very… prolific since she was removed from the Hold. I worry—or I should say, Ostara worries—that Persi’s regular visits might be upsetting her.”
Rhi tapped her fingers against the tabletop, looking pensive. “Is Ostara worried that Persi is upsetting Bernadette, or does she simply wish there were fewer witnesses to whatever it is Bernadette has been creating of late?”
It was hard to tell from where I was standing, but I thought that Xiomara might have betrayed a smile before she got her expression under control. My gaze darted to Rhi, whose quizzical expression relaxed into something resembling satisfaction.
So Rhi was right, I thought.
“If you could encourage Persi to… give some space, I think Ostara would appreciate it,” Xiomara said, her tone the model of diplomacy.
“I would hardly expect you to come here and do Ostara’s dirty work for her,” Rhi said, and there was an edge in her voice that I rarely heard there.
“Consider it a personal favor,” Xiomara shot back. “If Ostara had delivered the message herself, it would not have been nearly this friendly.”
“Well then, why don’t you deliver a message for me in return,” Rhi said lightly.
Xiomara chewed her tongue. “I’m not a carrier pigeon, Rhiannon.”
“Just this once,” Rhi said, refusing to be deterred. “If Ostara spent less time trying to keep up appearances and more time focused on the actual needs of her coven—even the less publicly palatable ones—she’d have far fewer favors to ask of people, and a much more functional coven.”
Xiomara snorted, but kept her face under control. I doubted Rhi had said a single word that Xiomara didn’t agree with, but she could hardly say so out loud as a member of the Conclave. So instead, she stood up with a quiet groan and said, “I’ll pass it along.”
“And if you hear anything,” Rhi added, as Xiomara turned to go, “about Jess Ballard or… or anything?”
“You’ll be my first call,” Xiomara assured her. Then she gave us both a tight smile and said, “I’ll see myself out.”
It took an impossibly long time, but at last, Monday came.
Shadowkeep usually closed early on Mondays, and luckily, this Monday was no exception, despite the continued size of the crowds.
I turned the closed sign over with a sigh of relief that felt like it came all the way from my toes.
I’d barely turned around when Persi breezed past me to the back door.
“You can lock up, right?” she said, though it was more of a statement than a request.
“Yeah, but—”
“I’ve got to be somewhere,” Persi said. “I don’t want to be—”
A sharp rapping sounded behind me. As I spun to see where the sound was coming from, Persi gave a sigh and murmured, “Oh for goddess’ sake, not again!”
Leila Nightjar was standing on the other side of the door I’d just locked, waving her hand frantically. I stepped forward to let her in when Persi cried, “No! Don’t… I’ll meet her around the back.”
I watched, bewildered, as Persi motioned wordlessly to Leila, waving her hands toward the back door.
Leila looked confused for a moment, then her face lit up with understanding, and she vanished across the porch in the direction of the back door.
Persi, still muttering under her breath, followed, pausing only long enough to say to me, “Don’t forget to set the alarm. ”
I stood for a moment, considering. Did I know better than to eavesdrop? Yes.
Did my curiosity coupled with my brimming anxiety get the better of my judgment? Also yes.
Navigating the old and therefore noisy floorboards, I crept my way toward the back door until I was close enough to put my ear against the crack.
In a newer building, I might not have been able to make out the hushed voices on the other side, but Shadowkeep’s warped and drafty old door provided the perfect place to listen.
“—told you that I can’t do this right now,” Persi was saying in a low voice.
“But why? I don’t understand, I thought—”
“I was up front with you, Leila. I told you I was in a bad place. I told you I couldn’t… that I wasn’t ready for anything serious.”
“I’m not talking about anything serious, Persi. I just want to make sure you’re all right, but it’s like you’re ghosting me.”
“I’m not ghosting you, all right? I just have… there’s a lot going on.”
“You’ve got time for Bernadette.”
The pause that followed was so heavy with tension that I shivered on the other side of the door.
“Why do you know about that?” Persi finally asked, in an almost monotone voice.
Leila seemed to realize she made a mistake. “I… I didn’t… I—”
“So you’re, what? Stalking me now? Following me?”
“Of course not! But I… I’ve just been so worried about you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“But you don’t have to. Persi, I know you loved her, but you don’t have to face this alone.”
“Yes, I do.” She spat the words out, like they were something foul and poisonous. “It’s my fault, and I have to fix it.”
“It’s not your fault. Bernadette made her choices,” Leila said, so softly it was almost a whisper.
“She made those choices because of me. I’m serious, Leila. Just… forget about me, okay? I’m not good for anyone right now, least of all myself. Go… find someone healthy for goddess’ sake. Someone who isn’t drowning in her own mistakes. All I’m capable of right now is dragging someone down.”
I heard Persi’s footsteps echoing across the porch. Leila called after her once, in a hopeless voice. Then there was maybe a minute of silence before Leila’s footsteps followed Persi’s away from Shadowkeep.
I felt weighted down as I moved away from the door—heavy with guilt that I’d spied on Persi, but also full of sadness.
I was sad for Leila, who was obviously smitten with the chronically emotionally unavailable Persi, but more so for Persi herself.
I knew that she was still visiting Bernadette.
I knew she still had some lingering feelings for her.
But I hadn’t realized that those feelings were still so all-consuming.
I couldn’t say what Bernadette was like before I came to Sedgwick Cove—by the time I’d met her, she was deep into her entanglement with Sarah Claire, and likely already losing her mind.
But if Persi was still chasing that long-distant version of Bernadette, she was chasing a ghost. The thought made me sad, but also angry.
So much pain and sorrow, and for what? The Darkness left only misery in its wake, and this was just another example of the fallout.
I set out on my bike for home, preparing for an evening of make-believe.
I pretended to have an appetite at the dinner table, forcing down bites of food, and moving the rest around my plate so that it looked like I’d eaten more than I really had.
Then I pretended to read a book in the library until it was late enough that I could go up to bed without arousing suspicion.
I feigned tiredness, even as my entire body was electrified with anxiety about the night ahead.
I kissed my mom good night, went up to my room, closed the door, and waited.