Chapter 15

15

I could happily have spent hours in that garden with my mom. Seeing her perform her magic was as strange and wonderful as anything that had happened to me since arriving in Sedgwick Cove. I couldn’t find it in me to be angry that she’d never shown me this side of her—I was too happy to watch her embrace it again. I wondered if this was what it had been like when she was a girl, watching Asteria bring color and growth, with nothing but the power tingling in her fingertips. But though I was impressed with each and every mesmerizing bit of green magic, it was clear my mom was frustrated.

“I suppose I couldn’t neglect my magic for thirteen years, and expect everything to come flooding back to me,” she said, sighing over a wilting hydrangea blossom. “Looks like you and I will both have some practicing to do.”

But that practicing would have to wait. I had a stop to make before I went to Eva’s house.

I pulled my bike up in front of the Manor, my heart pounding. I’d texted Nova several times, but she hadn’t replied to me. I was starting to think that maybe she’d had her phone taken away. I checked with Eva and Zale, too, but no one had heard from her. The Conclave knew about the Cleansing now, but that didn’t mean that Nova did.

My whole body was buzzing with anxiety as I walked around the side of the house. I knew Ostara wasn’t home. I’d overheard Rhi on the phone with Xiomara, talking about the Conclave and how they were at the Historical Society for final approval of the exhibits for Litha. I wasn’t sure how long they’d be there, so there was no time to waste. I didn’t know who else might be home, but I wasn’t going to risk them turning me away at the door. I counted the windows along the back of the house, until I was under Nova’s room. Then I picked up a small pebble, smooth and rounded by the sea, and threw it toward her window. It took three failed attempts and three successful ones before Nova’s face appeared. I watched her eyes go wide, and then she opened the window.

“Wren? What the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m trying to get your attention!”

“Why didn’t you just ring the doorbell? I’m the only one home.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” I asked.

Nova rolled her eyes. “I’m coming down. Meet me at the front door.”

I stomped back around to the front of the house, grumbling under my breath. So, it was okay for her to break into my bedroom like a thief in the night and scare the shit out of me, but I was ridiculous for tossing a few pebbles? I had half a mind to get back on my bike, and not tell Nova a damn thing about the Cleansing. But as I rounded the corner and saw her standing on the front porch, her thin arms wrapped around her midsection, her face tight with worry, I sighed and felt all my aggravation whoosh out of me with a breath.

“Look, I’m sorry I bailed on you,” Nova blurted out, before I could say anything. “My mom caught me sneaking out, and grounded me. I was lucky to get that one text off to you all before she took my phone. I thought you’d put two and two together, so I didn’t bother to?—”

“Nova, this isn’t about that. The Cleansing happened without you.”

Nova just blinked at me. “You don’t mean… Wren Vesper, did you seriously try to do that all by yours?—”

“Are you out of your mind? Of course not!” I said, and launched quickly into an explanation. The longer I spoke, the wider Nova’s eyes got. By the time I’d finished, she looked like she’d forgotten how to blink.

“Oh my goddess! My mother is going to lose her ever loving shit when she?—”

“She already knows,” I cut in. “Persi went to the Conclave today to confess everything. They didn’t even go hard on her. She said she got an official warning.”

“Unbelievable. And here I am, grounded for the next month.”

“Seriously?”

“She won’t even let me out to help with the Litha pageant, and that’s like a local cultural requirement.” Nova exhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring. Then, all at once, her shoulders sagged, and all the fight went out of her. “Bernadette’s okay?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yeah. Well, I think so. In any case, she’s herself again,” I said. “And now they’ll be able to question her without Sarah’s interference.”

Nova’s voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “I hope she wasn’t… I hope she didn’t know that…” She couldn’t finish, but she didn’t need to.

“I know. Me, too.”

We both jumped as the phone rang shrilly inside the house.

“Probably Ostara checking to make sure I stayed put while she was gone,” Nova ground out. “I’ve got to go. Tell the others I’m sorry? You know, for the lying and for not being able to help with the pageant.”

“I will, but seriously, don’t worry about it, Nova. They understand.”

Her face twisted with an emotion she couldn’t repress. “I don’t think they do. But, thanks.”

And she ran into the house, closing the door behind her, a little harder than was strictly necessary.

The Marins lived in a beautiful old house right on the corner of Main Street and Hecate Lane, less than two blocks from the cafe. It was bright yellow, with shutters and a door painted robin’s egg blue. A Cuban flag and an American flag fluttered enthusiastically on the pole jutting out from the porch, and pots of flowers and herbs crowded the railings and windowsills. From that porch, I could see the beginnings of preparations for the Midsummer Festival. A few shops had already begun erecting stalls on the sidewalks, and a stage was being constructed on the grass in the middle of the town’s only roundabout. A huge banner fluttered above Main Street, and brightly colored flyers had been stapled to all the light poles, and taped onto shop windows. Soon, the steady trickle of summer tourists would become a horde, and the quaint and quiet street would come alive with the bustle and magic of a Sedgwick Cove celebration.

“Hey, Vesper. Come on in!” Eva called from inside, before I could even knock. I supposed she could see me through the big picture window by the front door.

I pushed the front door open, and let myself into the living room. It was as cheerful and colorful as the outside of the house, with coral-colored walls and flowers everywhere. Eva was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She had a bottle of soda in her hand.

“I was just grabbing a drink, you want something?” she asked.

“Sure, thanks. Whatever you’re having,” I said, pulling off my shoes and placing them by the door, where a small pile of shoes was already sitting.

Eva pulled another bottle from the fridge, and closed the door with her hip. Then she popped the tops off with a bottle opener that hung on the wall, and handed one to me.

“Xiomara makes this herself. It’s delicious,” she said.

I didn’t need convincing; everything Xiomara made was delicious. I took a sip, and sighed. Flavors of ginger, citrus, and tarragon burst on my tongue.

“Is that Wren?”

A woman appeared from the room beyond the kitchen, a tall woman with full lips and sharp cheekbones, like Eva’s. Her hair stood out in a beautiful natural halo all around her face.

“Yeah, Mama, this is Wren. Wren, this is my mom, Maricela.”

“You can call me Mari. Everyone does,” she said, holding out a hand for me to shake.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” I told her, taking her hand. It was warm, and her handshake was firm.

“I told Eva you could use my workshop for the pageant costumes,” Mari said. “And I told her I could help with the sewing, if there’s any to do.”

“I’m happy to hear that, because I don’t know how to sew at all,” I admitted. “I was kind of hoping we’d be able to do all of this with a glue gun and duct tape.”

Mari’s smile widened. “Well, if that turns out not to be the case, you girls can give me a shout. I know no one in the Conclave will say as much, but I’m glad you’re trying to overhaul this pageant. It’s been sad and tired for decades.”

“It has not!” came Xiomara’s voice from the room beyond the kitchen. “You just don’t know how to appreciate tradition!”

Mari rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be communing?” she called.

“Yes. The ancestors told me to pass that on,” Xiomara called back.

“ Ay, Dios mio, mama. No, they did not!” Mari grumbled.

“You young people and your need to shake everything up. Hasta el ultimo pelo. ” Xiomara went on.

“What do you mean, communing?” I asked.

“Oh, she’s been unsettled like the rest of us with… well, I surely don’t need to explain it to you, do I?” Mari said, with a knowing look. “So she’s been trying to commune with the ancestors, to get some insight into what’s happening.”

My face must have been full of confusion, because she clarified.

“My mother has that gift—to communicate with the deceased. She uses that gift sometimes to seek guidance.”

I nodded slowly, even as my mind spun. Rhi had told me that Xiomara was a powerful spirit witch, but seeking guidance from our deceased relatives? Was that something witches could do? Could I? And moreover, was that why I’d seen Asteria twice now? Was she trying to give me guidance, and I was just too unskilled to receive it?

“Wren? You ready?” Eva asked, frowning a little at me.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Let’s get to work,” I said. “Nice to meet you, Mari.”

“You, too, Wren. We’re glad you and your mom are back in Sedgwick Cove, where you belong,” Mari replied.

“I… me, too,” I said, and quickly turned to follow Eva up the stairs.

“Shh,” Eva said, as soon as we’d reached the top of the stairs. “Come to my room first, I need to talk to you.”

I followed Eva down a short hallway and into her bedroom. Her mom had clearly given her free rein to decorate how she wanted —the walls were the color of the Caribbean, and she had drawn and written all over them: song lyrics, poetry, quotes, and doodles, blossoming across the walls like living, growing things. Her bed in the corner was draped in mosquito netting hung with tiny, white fairy lights. She had an altar on a shelf over the bed; and her bookshelves, bedside table, and desk were piled with seashells, driftwood, little bowls of sand, and jar after jar of...

“Is that water?” I asked, approaching the shelves so that I could examine the jars more closely. They were all labeled in a hand so rushed and crowded, it was barely decipherable.

“Yeah, I collect it for spell work; rainwater, moon water, stormwater, ocean water, they all have their uses,” she said.

I must have been staring because she smiled. “We’ve never really talked about affinities before, have we? At least, not mine. I’m a water witch.”

“Really? I had no idea,” I said. “What exactly does that… mean?” I asked.

“It just means I’m drawn to the water. My magic works best when I’m working with water, or near water. Lucky for me, really, that we live right by the ocean,” she said with a smile that quickly faded. “Now what’s going on? I overheard my mom and abuela talking about Persi and Bernadette. What happened, do you know?”

I sat down on the edge of her bed, and sighed. “You should have popped some popcorn for this one.” And for the second time in an hour, I told the whole story of the Cleansing. Then I explained my visit to the Manor.

Eva let out a low whistle. “Persi took a huge risk.”

“I’m still only just getting to know her, but I think that’s kind of her thing,” I said. “Being ungovernable.”

“Well, at least this time, it paid off,” Eva said. “So what happens now?”

I shrugged. “I don’t really know. Sarah Claire can’t interfere again, but that doesn’t mean it’s over. It feels like I’m just sort of… waiting for the Darkness to try again.”

Eva grinned, and nudged me with her elbow. “You don’t think the Darkness learned its lesson, messing with you the first time?”

I laughed humorlessly. “I think that was mostly luck, and the Darkness knows it.”

Eva’s grin faded down to a grim smile. “That was more than luck, Wren. I know you’re raw and untrained, but you are powerful.”

“I don’t feel powerful.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you are.”

“But how can I?—”

Thump. Eva and I both turned to the sudden sound which came from the direction of her closet.

“What was that?” I asked, but Eva had already stomped over to the closet door, and yanked it open.

“Bea! How many times do I have to ask you not to hide in my room!” Eva shouted.

Bea was crouched on the floor of the closet, staring back at her older sister with a mixture of embarrassment and defiance on her face. “How else am I supposed to find out what’s going on around here?” she demanded, in a small but steady voice. “No one tells me anything!”

“No one tells you anything because you’re still a kid,” Eva said, and though she still looked aggravated that her privacy had been invaded, her tone softened just a little. “I know it’s frustrating. I’ve been there, Bea. Truly, I get it. But there really is stuff that a kid shouldn’t know about—that they aren’t ready for. And there’s a lot of that going around at the moment.”

“You’re still a kid, too,” Bea shot back, not backing down.

Eva almost smiled, but managed to smother it. “True. But I’m a big kid. You’re still a little kid. And there’s a difference, Bea, as much as you wish there wasn’t.”

Bea pressed her lips together around whatever retort she was longing to throw at her older sister. However, at that moment, Eva’s mother called from downstairs.

“I’ll be right back,” Eva said to me, before rounding on Bea again. “When I get back, I want you in your own room, where you belong.”

Bea stuck her tongue out at Eva’s retreating back, flinching when Eva slammed the door on her way out.

The silence expanded to fill the space left behind by Eva’s absence. At last, I felt compelled to break it.

“She’s just trying to look out for you, you know,” I said.

“She thinks I’m a baby,” Bea said, pouting; and then, realizing that pouting was rather a babyish thing to do, tucked her lower lip in and sat up straighter, trying to look dignified.

“Maybe,” I said with a shrug. “I don’t have any siblings, so I should probably mind my own business.” At that moment, Bea shifted her position on the floor, and I noticed for the first time what she held in her lap. “What’s that?” I asked her.

Bea’s complexion darkened with embarrassment, and she made to hide the object behind her back. “Nothing.”

“Oh, come on,” I said, smiling and winking in what I hoped was a conspiratorial way. “Is it Eva’s? A diary, maybe? Come on, let’s see.”

Bea looked almost affronted. “I wouldn’t read Eva’s diary, even if I knew where she hid it,” she said. “It’s… it’s mine.”

“Your diary?”

“No. My sketchbook,” Bea replied, dropping her gaze to the book she had tucked behind her leg.

“You like to draw?” I asked.

Bea nodded, and I watched as something kindled in her eyes. “I love to draw,” she amended.

I slid off the edge of the bed, and came over to sit on the floor in front of the closet. “I wish I could draw, but I can barely manage stick figures. What kind of stuff do you like to draw?”

That spark I’d seen in her eyes ignited, and the words burst from her, as though she’d waited since the day she was born for someone to ask her that very question. “Everything! The ocean. Plants and animals. People. People the most. But not as they really are.”

“What do you mean? How do you like to draw them?” I asked. At first, I’d just been trying to cheer her up, but now I was actually curious.

“I like to draw people the way I imagine them. How they should be,” she explained solemnly.

“How they should be?”

She frowned. “It’s sort of hard to explain. No one really walks around as their true self. They walk around being the person other people want them to be. That always makes me sad. So when I draw someone, I draw them the way they really are. On the inside.”

I blinked, and did my best to swallow my astonishment. Instead, I attempted a casual nod and said, “You must be a talented artist, then. Would you let me see one of your drawings?”

Bea narrowed her eyes at me, as though she was sizing me up, judging whether I was worthy of this most prestigious honor. She hesitated so long that I wondered if she’d ever shared her drawings with anyone at all, even her own family. At last, she nodded slowly, once, and leaned closer to me, her voice a mere whisper.

“I can show you one. But you have to promise not to tell anyone,” she said.

I quickly raised a hand, like I was swearing in before a judge—in a weird way, it felt like the same thing. “I promise. I give you my word as a Vesper.”

Bea seemed to take those words as seriously as I meant them. She pulled out the notebook that had been concealed behind her leg, and placed it on her lap. She thumbed through the pages before laying it open to a portrait.

“This is Xiomara,” Bea said, in the tiniest of voices.

I stared in awe at the creation in front of me. It looked exactly like Xiomara—that much was obvious to anyone who had ever met her. Bea had, in relatively few strokes of her pencil, captured the high cheekbones, the wry mouth, the wise eyes. But it wasn’t just that it looked like Xiomara—it was Xiomara, just as Bea had said. Xiomara was in the details—the towel thrown over her shoulder, the spoon held so naturally in her grip, the proportions of her hands, which had conjured and cooked and nurtured themselves into a gnarled shape that was, in itself, poetry. Around her, hovering over her shoulders, were a dozen vague, shadowy shapes that lacked true definition, and yet were unmistakably people. I thought about what Eva had told me, that Xiomara’s food was so wonderful because it was as though she had the ancestors whispering in her ears.

“You’re absolutely right, Bea. That is Xiomara,” I murmured.

Bea nodded again, as though she knew every detail that had just flashed through my mind. “I don’t show these to a lot of people. I don’t think they would understand. And it feels like… like giving away other people’s secrets.”

“Because you see them in a way that other people don’t?”

“Yes. I think sometimes I see things that they would rather hide. That they do hide. Every day.”

I looked down at the sketchbook in her hands, and was suddenly burning with curiosity. What did little Bea see that other people didn’t? Who else had she drawn, and what had she revealed about them with a few strokes of a pencil? I longed to look through every page to see what else I might be able to learn about the people around me. Maybe even…

“Have you ever drawn me?” I asked.

I expected Bea to look embarrassed again, but she didn’t. She nodded solemnly at me instead, never taking her eyes from mine.

I felt unaccountably nervous. “Is… that something you would ever let me see?” I asked.

Bea tilted her head to one side, considering. “Maybe. But not today.”

I nodded. It might have been a drawing of me, but I certainly didn’t feel entitled to it, no matter how curious I was. It belonged much more to Bea than it did to me; and anyway, for all it might reveal about me and how she saw me, it would surely reveal almost as much about her, and that had to be her choice.

Suddenly, Bea sighed, her face crumpling.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I wish I knew what it meant.”

I waited for her to clarify, and a moment later, she obliged.

“My drawing. Sometimes, I wonder if it might have something to do with my magic.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Bea chewed on her lower lip, considering. “I know everyone is waiting for me to find my affinity. They expect it to be something flashy and exciting. When Eva first showed her affinity, she almost flooded the whole house.”

I laughed out loud. “The tracks,” I said.

“But it seems to be that way for everyone—the first time they show their affinity, it’s obvious. Sometimes I wonder if I have any magic at all.” This last statement came out in a whisper, a confession she was almost ashamed to speak out loud.

I felt a pang, not just for her, but for me. “You know, Bea, I’ve worried about the same thing?”

Bea’s eyes went wide. “You? But… the beach… I’ve heard my sister talk about it, when she thought I couldn’t hear.”

I nodded. “Did you know that was the first sign of magic I ever showed?”

I had the satisfaction of watching Bea’s mouth fall open. “Ever?”

“Ever.”

“But… how?”

“I’m not really sure. I’m sure part of it was that my mom never let me near anything related to witchcraft. I didn’t even know about our family history. So, I never really had a chance to test my magic, and see how it manifested. It wasn’t until that moment on the beach that I felt the spark, and I realized what I could do.”

Bea didn’t seem capable of replying. Her mouth was still hanging wide.

I pointed to the sketchbook in her hand. “There’s magic in there, Bea. I can feel it. Can’t you?”

Bea looked down at her sketchbook. “I… I don’t know. Sometimes, I think I can.”

“Trust yourself,” I told her. “Magic doesn’t have to be flashy. It doesn’t have to be big to be powerful, and it doesn’t have to look like everyone else’s to be real. Be patient with yourself. If you asked me when I was ten if I had any magic, I would have laughed in your face; and now half of this town full of witches is terrified I’m going to call the elements to destroy them. And can I tell you a secret?”

Bea nodded eagerly. I leaned in, dropping my voice to a whisper.

“I have no idea how I did it.”

I had told her because I wanted her to feel better, and yet saying it out loud made me feel better… lighter, somehow. It was a confession I needed to get off my chest, to someone who wouldn’t just brush it off. In a weird way, Bea was the perfect person to tell.

“We’re all just figuring it out as we go… the big kids, too,” I told her.

Bea’s lips curved into a smile. Then she said, “I wasn’t just spying, you know. I was trying to help. With the pageant.”

“Oh! Well, you’ve probably noticed we could use all the help we can get. How did you want to help?”

“I saw all the stuff you got from the theater, and I thought… well, the masks are cool, but they could be cooler if we painted them.”

I looked over at the giant gold comedy and tragedy masks propped against Eva’s wall.

“Painted how?” I asked.

Bea flipped ahead a few pages in her sketchbook, and held it up for me to see. She had created two images, one of the Holly King and one of the Oak King. It was clear she was inspired by what we’d already borrowed from the theater—the figures were dressed in long cloaks and had the greenery and the headpieces like the ones we had found, but she had pulled it all together into something cohesive and arresting. The masks were detailed now, not just in solid gold, but painted to look like terrible ancient faces. She had added other details I hadn’t thought of—icicles and frost to the Holly King, and a collar on the Oak King’s cloak that looked like the sun rising behind his head.

“These are amazing, Bea!” I gasped. “Do you think you could actually paint the masks to look like this?”

Bea nodded. “I love to paint, too. And I thought we could use?—”

At that moment, the door opened, and Eva walked back in carrying a tray of snacks. Bea snapped her mouth shut with an audible click, clamming up at once under her sister’s frustrated gaze.

“Bea, I told you to—oh,” she said, stopping short. She looked surprised to see me sitting on the floor of her closet.

“It’s my fault,” I told Eva. “I held her up. We were just chatting.”

Eva looked at me, her eyes full of questions, but she nodded, accepting the excuse.

Bea, meanwhile, had risen to leave, but I held out a hand to stop her. “Show your sister your ideas for the pageant.”

Eva’s eyebrows shot up, and she shifted her attention to Bea. “What ideas?”

“It’s nothing,” Bea said, digging her toes into the carpet.

“Oh, come on, Bea, it’s not nothing!” I cried. “It’s brilliant! Come on, let Eva see!”

Bea threw a non-committal glance my way, and I smiled encouragingly. Finally, she sighed, opened to the sketch, and turned it around so Eva could see it. I watched with satisfaction as Eva’s eyebrows rose, and her mouth fell open.

“Bea, what the hell?” she gasped. “These are… did you seriously come up with this?”

Bea was trying very hard not to look too pleased with herself as she nodded.

“We have to show this to Zale. Bea said she could paint the masks to look just like this,” I added.

“And we could add these to the cloaks,” Eva said, looking excited now as she pointed to the icicles. “Glass ones would be too heavy and loud, but I bet we could make them out of glue and some serious glitter.”

I turned to Bea, whose tentative smile was slowly blossoming with every word. “I think you’re hired, Bea. Welcome to the design team!”

“Let’s go down to the theater,” Eva said. “Zale should be down there rehearsing everyone. He needs to see this.” She turned to her little sister and gave a playful flick to one of her braids, causing the beads to clack against each other. “I guess I should let you eavesdrop more often, hermanita. ”

Bea raised her chin. “I guess you should.”