Chapter 13
“Wren. WREN.”
The words were faint at first, reaching me from very far away. Everything was dark, which was good because I didn’t want to watch anymore. I didn’t want to see what happened when a man had his soul ripped apart and stolen. I didn’t want a memory of what that looked like.
“Wren! For goddess’ sake! WREN!”
I knew I should answer, but I couldn’t seem to make my mouth form the words, and anyway, who could have heard me over that screaming? Ambrose, his screams were…
Gone.
The realization bloomed slowly.
The blackness was not the night—my eyes were squeezed shut.
The screaming was no longer Ambrose—my own mouth was open, my own throat raw with cries.
I could feel the pavement beneath my feet. Smell the salt on the air. Feel the numbing bite of the wind against my cheek.
I opened my eyes to see my own face staring back at me, mouth open, tears tracking down my cheeks, my hands pressed up over my ears. And just over my shoulder, face eloquent with terror, was Eva.
She reached out a hand, placed it on my shoulder, and turned me around to face her, gripping my other shoulder and shaking me roughly. The movement startled me enough that the scream pouring out of me faltered and died, and I snapped my mouth shut.
“Wren! Thank the goddess! Are you… are you okay? Come inside, quick,” Eva breathed.
It was only then that I became more fully aware of my surroundings, which included a number of people standing in the street and on the sidewalk, staring at me like they’d just witnessed a car wreck.
“It’s fine, she’s fine, just… carry on!” Eva shouted, as she dragged me on numb feet into the cafe, straight through the dining area, through the swinging door to the kitchen, where she pressed me down into a chair, and pointed a shaking finger at me.
“Wait here. Don’t move.”
I didn’t think I could have moved if I wanted to, so her instructions were easy enough to obey.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as she shooed the one person waiting to order food out onto the sidewalk, with a hurried apology.
Then she turned the sign on the door from “Open” to “Closed” and pulled the blinds, plunging the whole cafe into a dim half-light, and blocking out the small crowd of onlookers still staring through the window to see what had become of the lunatic from the sidewalk.
Then she hurried back into the kitchen, poured me a tall, cold glass of water, and thrust it into my hand.
“Drink,” she said firmly.
Lacking the will to object, I lifted the glass shakily to my lips. But then I made the mistake of looking down and seeing my face looming toward me in the reflection of the water, and I cried out, dropping the glass, which shattered all over the floor.
“Whoa, what the hell?” Eva cried.
“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t want to… to see…” my voice shivered and died.
Eva struggled with a question on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it. Instead, she set to work sweeping up the broken glass, and then mopping up the spilled water. I tried to apologize again, but my teeth had started chattering. How long had I been outside? Or was I going into shock?
Finally, Eva dropped the mop down into the bucket with a clunk, found another glass, filled it, and held it out to me.
“I’ll hold it,” she said firmly. “You drink.”
Not wanting to take any chances, I closed my eyes and took several gulps of water.
It wasn’t until I did so that I realized my throat felt like it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper.
Ugh, how long had I been screaming? I jerked my chin away from the glass, and Eva set it down on the counter before coming to sit with me again.
“What’s going on, Wren?” she asked.
“Who… who else is here?” I asked.
Eva narrowed her eyes at me, like she knew I was avoiding the question, but answered. “My mom is in the back prepping the plantains, so she’ll be a while.”
“And Xiomara?”
“Summoned to the Manor. And before you ask, no, I have no idea why,” she said.
I sighed with relief. At least Xiomara wasn’t here. I felt like she’d take one look at me and know exactly what had happened. And I wasn’t ready to talk about what had just happened—not yet, anyway. Which meant I now had to do something I hated.
“Eva, can you do me a favor?” I asked.
Eva narrowed her eyes. “What kind of favor?”
“Can you… can you trust me?”
Eva’s eyes went wide, and she blinked twice, like those were the last words she expected to come out of my mouth.
“Of course I can trust you,” she said, once the surprise wore off.
“I need you not to tell anyone about this,” I said. “Not your mom, not Xiomara, and definitely not my family.”
Eva snorted skeptically. “Wren, you know I’m down to keep a secret, but you just had a meltdown on a public street, in broad daylight, in front of half a dozen people.
I’m not sure if it matters whether I tell anyone or not.
There’s no way this isn’t getting back to your family. You know how this town is.”
I bit my lip. I hadn’t thought of that. I jumped up so suddenly that Eva gave a startled yelp, and fell back against the counter.
I flew to the window and parted the blinds.
The people who had watched my outburst were starting to dissipate.
There were maybe six or seven of them, and despite it being far from tourist season, I only recognized one local, the woman who worked in the bookshop below Nightjar Divination.
She was still standing across the street, staring at the place where I’d disappeared into the cafe, her face crumpled with concern.
“It might be okay. I only see one… what’s the name of the woman who owns the bookshop?”
“Susan,” Eva replied. “Susan Reynolds. But why are you—?”
“She’s the only local I see out there. If I can talk to her before she—”
“Wren, slow down. You haven’t even explained what… what the hell just happened to you?”
I hesitated only long enough to scan the departing voyeurs again just in case, but I was now almost positive everyone else was a tourist. Then I crossed back over to Eva, feeling the adrenaline draining out of me in real time, so that by the time I sank down beside her again, my legs were wobbling like Jell-O.
“This is the part when I ask you to trust me again,” I said.
Eva narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to tell me what happened, are you?”
“Not yet. And it’s not because I don’t trust you in return,” I said quickly.
“That’s not what it feels like,” Eva said.
“Look, do you remember when you were trying to pass your waterworker qualifications? Remember how your aunt kept offering to tutor you, and other people kept offering help, resources, and tips?”
“Yeah?”
“And do you remember when you kind of… freaked out on them all, and asked them to leave you alone?”
Eva rolled her eyes. “They were smothering me! At the end of the day, they couldn’t take my exams for me, you know? Magic is too subjective, too… personal. I had to figure it out for myself.”
“Exactly,” I said. “This is sort of the same thing. It’s something I need to figure out for myself. And it’s not because I don’t trust people, and it’s not that I won’t ask for help when I need it. But right now… well, it’s personal.”
Eva chewed at her lip, and I knew she was aggravated that I’d used her own words against her; but after a few tense seconds, her expression cleared, and she nodded.
“Okay,” she said. “And frankly, good for you, Wren. You haven’t had a lot of confidence in your magic, even when you should. It’s good to see you taking the reins for once. So to honor that, I’ll lay off the questions. For now,” she added, raising an eyebrow.
I smiled in relief. “Thanks, Eva. I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Eva said, a bit grumpily. “But I’m not happy about it.”
“Your feelings are valid,” I told her, nodding sagely.
She punched me in the arm. “Whatever. You'd better start answering my texts, or I’m ratting you out. You hungry? I just made a plate.”
I thought about it for a second, and my stomach answered. Loudly.
“Yeah,” I said. “As a matter of fact, I am. But can you save it for me for a few minutes? I have to try to catch up with that lady from the bookshop. What did you say her name was? Sally something?”
“Susan. Susan Reynolds.”
“Right. I’ll be right back,” I said, and before Eva could argue any further, I was out the door of the cafe and jogging along Main Street in the direction of the bookshop.
As I ran, I could feel the piece of sea glass in my pocket, bouncing against my leg, and it reminded me that I had another reason to visit that particular building.
I had to find out why this piece of sea glass, which I knew without question was the one I gave to Granny Nightjar, was now back in my possession again.
Where had it come from? If I didn’t bring it back, would I be in debt to Granny Nightjar?
Because I didn’t like the sound of that at all.
I didn’t manage to catch up to Susan along the sidewalk, and so I continued along until I reached the bookshop.
I chanced a glance through the front window.
My reflection was frazzled, but normal, thank goddess—no mysterious forest looming in the background.
Then I refocused my gaze through the glass, and immediately jumped back in alarm.
Two sets of green eyes were staring unblinkingly at me from just on the other side of the glass, and it took my panicked brain a full few seconds to realize that it wasn’t some vision of the past, but a pair of cats curled up in the front window among the display of books.
Trying to ignore their judgmental stares, I peered further into the store and confirmed that Susan had returned, and was now seated behind the counter. I steeled myself and walked in.