Chapter Thirty Five
The next morning, fear sparked through her entire body as anxiety took hold.
She had killed someone, and two other people knew about it.
Her breaths were shallow. She wondered where this fear was last night, but she was riding on a high of adrenaline and delusional exhaustion.
She crashed hard when she reached her bed.
It was only now, in the light of the day, that she felt this anxious terror.
She reached for her journal and pen from her bedside table drawer.
Ophelia could not let this anxiety take hold of her.
She knew what she did last night was not unfounded.
As she wrote out her rationale for her actions and detailed the potential consequences, her mind eased.
What she found most troubling was that she wasn’t as horrified and guilt-ridden as she thought she should feel.
She may eventually be questioned by the police, but they had nothing on her, Jolie, or Etienne.
They would all say that the last time they saw Mateo was at his studio.
He wanted to show them Ophelia’s statue.
She could even tell them about how he was sculpting her without permission, and Etienne and Jolie were there to support her during the conversation.
They just wouldn’t confess to anything beyond that.
Once she had her thoughts organized, she breathed easier.
She tore out the page in her journal, shredded it into strips.
She walked to her bathroom, grabbed a match from the bathroom cabinet, and lit the paper on fire.
She was mesmerized by the flames dancing and the sulfuric smell of the match.
She let it burn till the flame was close to her fingertips and dropped it into the toilet, sending it down with a flush.
She had two more things to take care of before she could fall back into bed.
Calling Jolie would be the easiest of the two calls she needed to make.
Jolie picked up on the first ring and was her typical nonchalant self, acting as if nothing had happened.
And when Ophelia demanded to get their stories straight, Jolie repeated exactly what Ophelia wanted. She was unbreakable.
She dialed Etienne’s number and took a deep breath.
“Hello,” said Etienne.
“Hey,” said Ophelia. Her tone dripping in awkwardness.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, you?”
“I’m good.”
“Good. Good. So, I was calling to make sure we had our stories straight in case the cops started asking questions.”
Etienne simply grunted in response as if it was a sign for her to continue.
“I just wanted to make sure you know that we are sticking as close as possible to the truth. We were all there at his studio to see the statue he made of me. I called and asked you to come for moral support. We asked him to destroy it, and he did, so we left.”
Ophelia nervously continued expanding on specific details she wanted him to get right to ensure a cohesive story.
“O, I got it. I’m not going to rat.”
The pause between them grew thicker. “Hey, E, what did you mean by my magic being strong?”
“It just seems to be more advanced for someone who just learned. Your magic seems very… intuitive. Less learned and recitation of prayers. Like the way you transferred your energy to me with detailed feelings of gratitude, and how you released those souls. I treat almost every day, and I found the souls challenging. Not to mention you have a protector.” Etienne paused.
“I think with time and practice, you could go beyond what we believe to be within the scope of our gift.”
Ophelia’s eyes rounded. “Interesting. I guess I should keep practicing then.”
“Let me know when you’re ready for another practice session.”
“I will. Thanks, E.”
“No problem, O.”
Ophelia hung up the phone and crawled back into bed.
All that transpired with Mateo zapped Ophelia’s energy to absolutely nothing. Work was difficult, tending to her basic needs was difficult, sleeping was difficult.
Thankfully, she did not have any bad dreams, but she slept restlessly.
Negative thoughts played on a loop in her head.
She was so embarrassed that she let herself get involved with Mateo, that she had fallen under his spell.
But he had made it all seem so incredibly real.
He made her feel wanted, adored, excited.
All feelings she craved in a romantic relationship.
And she did want that in a relationship, when it was with the right person.
Her time was valuable, and she wanted to spend it with someone she truly cared for and in turn truly cared for her.
There needed to be a give and take, and right now, Ophelia felt like all she could see were the takers that passed through her life.
Her attacker in New York, who took her naivety of the world and her feeling of safety in her new city, the serial killer who took her neighbor and her feeling of safety in her hometown, and Mateo, who molested her twice, tried to take her soul and instead took her ability to trust her feelings.
They took her time, her body, her thoughts. Take, take, take.
Those with the upper hand were always taking from the perceived inferior to maintain their dominance.
Ophelia thought that it likely derived from instinct, from some non-evolved part of the human lizard brain, but how did a human with a complex brain that had over 100 trillion synapses not see that power was infinite and didn’t need to be taken?
She supposed stripping the perceived inferior of power and safety were tried-and-true tactics. But she was so fucking tired of living in a world where she didn’t feel safe, where that sense of safety could so easily be stripped from her.
Ophelia’s mind drifted to the one thing she had taken from Mateo—the crucifix necklace.
She hadn’t looked at it since she’d been home.
She hauled herself out of bed and rummaged through her purse, where she pulled out the medieval cross on a silver chain.
Mateo was right about one thing: it was hideous.
The cross was as large as her palm and featured intricate swirls and designs in the metal. The overall effect was gaudy.
What she needed to do was call Detective Lewis again and get the files from her case.
He still hadn’t returned her call from two weeks ago.
She was not only curious about the attacker, but she needed to know if the police had recovered the necklace.
She wondered if this was one of a kind or if there were others out there.
She was going to hold onto the cross for now. It wasn’t like she had the ability to detect magical people, so it could come in handy. Ophelia placed the cross necklace in the drawer of her bedside table and dialed Detective Lewis’s number again. Still no answer.
Ophelia slogged through the work week, and on Friday afternoon, she packed up her weekend bag and began her drive to Oakdale for more treating lessons with Mawmaw.
Ophelia was looking forward to being in the comforting presence of her Mawmaw after everything with Mateo.
Jolie checked on her every day and always brought a handmade gift to show her love and care.
She had even made a little figurine of her tiger protector that Ophelia placed on her nightstand.
Jade and Jolie both wanted Ophelia to go to therapy.
She was no stranger to therapy and typically loved it, finding the whole process cathartic, like a massage for her brain.
But now that things were so complicated with magic, she wasn’t sure how to go about it.
Jade suggested she ask Avery if he knew any magical therapists she could speak candidly to.
It wasn’t a bad idea. She promised to consider it.
For now, she was still licking her wounds.
Etienne texted her on Monday to check in as well. It was a sweet gesture, one she knew took a lot of effort from him. She was appreciative of his help and care as well. She supposed that through all of this, she felt appreciative of her true friends.
The drive to Oakdale was different at dusk.
She rode with the windows down, letting the wind fill the car with its fast hum.
The sky was hot pink and orange, transitioning to a deep purple at the line of the horizon.
Someone once told her the sky looked that way in Louisiana because of all of the pollution from the refineries.
She hated that person. It was probably true, but how dare they spoil a sunset?
Ophelia pulled into Mawmaw’s long driveway around nine at night. The crackle of the oyster-paved road, the smell of pines, and the warm air wafted through her car as she slowed down to take it all in.
Ophelia parked in front of the house and noticed the lights inside were still on.
Mawmaw must be waiting for her, so she hurriedly grabbed her things and headed to the front door.
The last time Mawmaw stayed up past seven thirty was for Ophelia’s passing, and before then, it had probably been half a decade since she heard the calls of coyotes at night.
Ophelia knocked loudly on the front door and tried the knob, hoping it was open so her Mawmaw wouldn’t have to get up to let her in. The knob turned without a hitch. The light was on in the treating parlor and living room.
“Mawmaw?”
No response. Ophelia left the lights on so she could walk through the house without tripping. She thought that Mawmaw had probably left them on for that reason. She made her way to her grandmother’s room to announce her arrival.
“Mawmaw?” said Ophelia as she quietly placed her bag next to Mawmaw’s bedroom door, hoping not to startle her.
Her room smelled different…the usual smell of incense and dust, but with a strange metallic note. A slight burning sensation tickled Ophelia’s nose. Mawmaw lay asleep in her bed. Ophelia crept across the dark room to wake her.
“Mawmaw? It’s me,” she said as she leaned over, gently touching her shoulder.
Ophelia stopped cold. She couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing.