17. Thea
Thea
Good Thing I’m Disposable
Zair has an away game today. I decide to use this uninterrupted time to figure out more about the ritual that killed me…
will kill me? Whatever. Time travel. I grab an assortment of books on souls, healing rituals, and time travel before heading to my nook.
The musty scent of old pages fills the air as I dive in, flipping through pages with feverish determination.
The hours blur as I read, absorbing each passage and scribbling frantic notes, but despite the wealth of information, nothing useful surfaces.
Every chapter feels like it’s leading me down a different rabbit hole, but none of them feel like the right path.
The book on dark rituals I’m reading has an appendix with a list of further reading.
I write down the ones that I think are most likely to help and start walking down the aisles.
When I can’t find them there I try the card catalogue.
Seriously, we need to upgrade to a computer system. Still nothing.
Adora thought the librarian was mean, but she thought everyone was mean. Rumor has it he’s a Strix. I decide to figure it out for myself and approach him.
“Good morning, sir,” I whisper and still get a glare. The air feels colder near him. Like standing near a grave.
“What do you need?” he asks in a condescending tone.
“I’m looking for some books and can’t find them in the aisles or card catalogue.” I pass him the paper with the titles.
“If we don’t have the books, you can request them.” He passes the paper back to me.
“Okay, I’d like to request these?” I smile.
He gestures to some forms and I start to carefully fill one out. Hm, first question is species, that seems irrelevant.
Then coven, pack or tribe. Skipping that. I write down the books that I want and then pass it back to him, he looks annoyed I actually filled it out. His eyes slowly scan the paper.
“You’re a witch?” he asks looking at me incredulously.
“Last I checked.”
He makes a noise with his tongue and looks down.
“You didn’t list coven, are they embarrassed by you or did they already kick you out?” He smiles sweetly and passes the page back.
Adora was not wrong, he is an ass. I’m surprised anyone gets library books if this is what it takes to request them.
“Embarrassed,” I reply and write Ashgrave. My stomach in knots at the thought.
His jaw drops open when he sees it. Looking down and back a few times with unnaturally yellow eyes. Maybe he really is a Strix.
“You’re from the Ashgrave coven?” his voice trembles. Guess he’s met Vivien.
“Yes, second daughter of Vivien Ashgrave.” I swallow bile.
“I’ll get these ordered right away. So sorry, Miss Lockwood.” He stands and nearly bows as I walk away, confused.
The day passes, and my neck starts to ache from sitting hunched over, I need to pee and have taken to chewing gum to avoid leaving the nook in search of food. I push it all away, telling myself I can deal with it when I make some progress.
My notebook grows cluttered with everything relevant from Temporal Shards, its pages filled with lines about time fractures and the consequences of tampering with fate.
I make meticulous notes of every instance where time has bent or cracked, but nothing I read seems to align with what I’ve been through.
My resurrection. There’s nothing here to explain how I ended up in the past.
“How long have you been here?” Zair’s voice makes me jump.
I mark my place with my finger before looking up. “Not sure… Since around seven. What time is it?”
“Seven this morning?” His eyes widen. “You’ve been here for twelve hours? Have you eaten anything?”
“No, but I still have a few books to get through.” He glances over my pile. “Don’t ask,” I tell him before he can question why I have A Study of Celtic Spirits, Rituals of Restoration, and The Art of Soul Binding piled on the table.
“Just some light reading?” he teases. “Come on, I’ll take you out for dinner.”
“Was that an offer or a statement?”
“Both.” He gives me a disarming smile that meets his eyes. Dammit. I’m done for.
“Fine, but I’m not cheap!” I grab my notebook, look at the pile of books, and decide to leave them for tomorrow.
“Want to walk to the Mass Ave Diner or drive somewhere?” he asks.
“Diner’s fine.” I reach for my bookbag, but he beats me to it. My hand doesn’t stop in time and I brush my fingers over his.
“Sorry!” I tell him, jerking my hand back.
“For what?” he asks, then slings the bookbag over his shoulder. He starts walking, either not waiting for an answer, or not wanting one. Once we’re outside Otherfell, we head down the hill.
“So, Thea, tell me something no one knows about you,” he says, breaking the comfortable silence of our walk.
“Could’ve started with my favorite color, but okay,” I joke. I’ve told Lazlo everything about me, so it’d have to be something recent. I came back from the dead? A bit much for a game like this.
“It’s that green-blue color,” Zair says.
I turn to him. “How do you know that?”
“You have a water bottle, a binder and a shirt in that color,” he says, like it’s obvious. And when he spells it out like that, it kind of is.
“Guess that earns you a hard question,” I concede. “Something no one knows… I hate things on my wrists.”
“Really?” He glances over, brow lifting. “Then why do you wear that bracelet?”
I tilt my head, letting a slow smile rise. “Who said I’m wearing a bracelet?”
That gives him pause. He studies me more closely this time, something flickering in his eyes. Confusion, maybe curiosity.
“Then what is it?” he asks.
“Sorry, you already used your follow-up question,” I say, saccharine sweet. “What’s your big dark secret?” I ask, not expecting anything good.
“Damn, I forgot how these games work,” he laughs, then hesitates. “I don’t want to follow in my family’s footsteps.”
“And what footsteps are those?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
“Tradition,” he says simply. And I fall for it.
“What tradition?”
“Sorry, you already used your follow-up,” he counters smoothly, that warm grin making it hard to be annoyed.
“Favorite season?” I ask, shifting gears.
“Fall,” he says without missing a beat. “I like how death is celebrated.”
“That was surprisingly deep,” I laugh. “I like fall too, though mostly because it means pumpkin everything.”
“How did you get that scar on your eyebrow?” he asks without looking at me. Has he been studying my face?
“Pass.” Not going there tonight.
He looks like he wants to argue. But then he just nods and shifts gears, moving to whatever question was next on his mental list. We go back and forth, getting to know each other, like I did not so long ago with Lazlo.
It’s strange. I feel a similar connection to Zair, there are some similarities, but too many differences.
He barely even pauses his questioning to eat and is asking me about my music tastes when I catch the sharp, overwhelming scent of roses. I grimace.
“I apologize in advance,” I mutter.
“Huh?” Zair asks, his gaze meeting mine, searching for context I hadn’t given. Then he sees her. Anita swans up to the table and slides into the booth beside him.
“Zair, darling,” she says, her voice dripping sugar and venom. “I thought we had plans tonight. Or did you forget?” Her hand trails along his arm like it’s her right, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric.
Zair jerks back like she burned him, eyes flashing as he shifts away with a clenched jaw. “Don’t touch me.”
“You always do this,” she snaps. “Pretend nothing’s going on when we were together Friday night. Like that didn’t mean anything.”
I keep my expression flat. Part of me wants to joke that he must’ve been fast to sneak in a whole affair after leaving me at my dorm at eleven. But I swallow it. No point tipping her off to how close we are.
“I’m not pretending,” he replies evenly. “I told you; I don’t date witches, I don’t touch witches, and I definitely don’t make plans with ones who don’t respect my boundaries.”
He glances over at me, and I can almost feel him willing me to believe him. I do. If it had happened, she would’ve posted proof on GhostChat before the sheets were cold.
“As you can see, I’m out with a friend right now.” His words are measured, leaving no room for misinterpretation. She drags her gaze over me, slow and calculating, with a smile so tight it might crack. She knew I was here. That’s why she came. I should’ve picked somewhere farther away.
“Adora. Oh sorry, Thea now,” she says with mock sweetness, like the name tastes bitter on her tongue.
Turning back to Zair, she continues, “It is so kind of you to look after my little sister. She’s so socially stunted. Honestly, it’s a miracle she hasn’t gotten herself into more trouble by now.” Her laugh is light, almost charming, as if she’s sharing a harmless joke.
“Or perhaps I just enjoy her company,” he replies smoothly.
Her smile fades ever so slightly. “Oh, Zair, you’re such a good man,” she says, her voice dropping enough to sound intimate. “It must be exhausting to play the hero all the time.”
“It’s not exhausting—” He pauses, then tilts his head looking at me. “Wait, she’s your sister?”
“Unfortunately,” I say, letting the word drag. “But don’t worry. I’m adopted.”
Zair’s mouth twitches in amusement. “Adopted? That’s a relief.”
“Excuse me,” Anita snaps and turns to me, her expression a perfect mask of hurt. “I’m the only family you have. How could you talk about me like this? You’re supposed to love me.”
I’m supposed to love her. Not that we’re supposed to love each other. The signs were always there.
“You just called me an idiot and now you expect me to love you?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“I wasn’t saying that,” she says. Her eyes shimmer with that phony vulnerability she thinks passes for sincerity. “I just meant… you’re not used to attention. I’d hate for someone to take advantage of your… innocence. His intentions might not be as pure as you think.”
She lets her gaze slide to Zair, smile curling with poisonous sweetness.
“And yours are?” I ask, my voice flat. “Should I be warning him instead?”
“We’re just going to a party,” she says, dismissing me. “I know you don’t usually get invited to those, but they’re harmless fun.”
“And we were just getting food. I know you don’t usually do casual, but not every outing ends with a trap.”
She wasn’t expecting me to bite back. Anita’s mask slips for a moment before she recovers, turning to Zair. “So, are we going to this party or not? You still need to change.”
“Thea,” Zair says, ignoring her. “Do you want to go to a party?”
“I thought this was the party,” I reply, pretending to look confused. “You mean there’s even more fun to be had?”
His smile broadens as he leans forward in his seat. “No, this has definitely been more fun than any party I’ve been to lately.”
Anita’s smile falters, and there’s a flicker of frustration in her eyes, the kind that slips through when someone’s losing a game they thought they’d already won.
Zair hasn’t spared her a single glance that wasn’t laced with disgust. But he watches me like I’m the only one in the room. He’s playing this game as much as I am.
“Well, in that case,” I say, grinning. “Dessert?”
Zair nods, a playful glint in his eyes. “That sounds perfect.” He hands me the dessert menu. “Get something with two spoons, or one.”
He’s playing with fire. I like it. Let her blister.
I scan the menu as Anita huffs, muttering something under her breath before storming off. I turn to watch her retreat, her heels clicking against the floor. As soon as she’s out of the booth, Zair rolls up his sleeves and checks his forearms with quick, practiced precision. Looking for a mark.
“She’s shit at skin curses,” I tell him. “Her dad makes her objects.”
He pauses, looking surprised, then nods. “Thanks.”
A waitress passes carrying a waffle topped with cinnamon, my eyes must light up because Zair chimes in, “I love waffles.”
Of course he does. I focus on the menu again, pretending I didn’t feel the echo of someone else in his voice.
We place an order for a strawberry-banana waffle with two forks.
When it arrives, it looks almost too pretty to eat, almost. I slice into the whipped cream-topped masterpiece and Zair follows suit.
“So,” he says between bites. “Adopted. That didn’t come up earlier.”
I pause for a moment, then shrug. “Yeah, my parents died. Anita’s mom’s a coven high priestess, so she took me in.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” I can feel the question hovering in the air: what happened to them? But he doesn’t ask. And I appreciate it. I’m not ready for that conversation. Or the nightmares that follow.
“You guys don’t seem to have the best relationship,” he observes as he pushes the last bite of the waffle toward me. “Is her mom… like her?”
“She’s worse.” I take a breath, letting my gaze drop to the table for a moment. “It’s complicated. I used to think they were family, but… “ I shrug lightly. “Now I know we weren’t.” I meet his eyes.
His drink pauses halfway to his mouth, and he sets it down slowly. “That’s rough.”
Why am I telling him this? Something about his presence, steady and unassuming, makes it feel safe.
“It’s not so bad,” I say. “I’ve learned a lot, about what love actually looks like.”
Zair surveys me a little too curiously. “What do you mean?”
I pause, the words tugging at something quiet and constant in my chest.
“There was someone once. He loved me like it was simple. Like I didn’t have to earn it.”
Then again, Lazlo didn’t have a choice. I was his mate. He had to love me.
“A lover?” he asks. Too quick. Too still.
My lips twitch. Almost a smile. “I know, right? Hilarious.”
Zair freezes. I can feel it in the air between us shift.
“What? Why?”
“We both know the only reason you flirt with me is because I’m forgettable. Low stakes. I’m not exactly the kind of girl you’d actually date.”
“That’s not — wait, what? That’s not true,” he stutters. Looking like I’ve kicked the floor out from under him.
“Don’t worry about it, Zair. I’m not fishing. Just stating facts.”
I take the last bite of waffle and wave it off like it’s nothing.
He looks like he wants to argue. Maybe even protest.
But he doesn’t.
The walk back is quieter than usual. Not cold, just… quieter.
He knows about Anita. It’s not like I could hide from her forever.
And if he’s still around tomorrow,
That’s already more than I expect.
I fall asleep staring at the thirteen tally marks on my wall. It seems like time really does have a sense of humor.