Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

When I came to, the trees had pulled back, the water had dried up, and everything was as it was. Catherine sat by my side, watching over me as the world flickered back into view.

‘What just happened?' I murmured as she helped me to my feet.

‘I don't know but it was not part of the Wilcuma.' She lifted my chin to check for injuries. ‘Calling on the elements, asking our ancestors to acknowledge you, that was all part of the ritual. But afterwards …'

‘You saw it too,' I said. ‘You saw the same thing I did.'

She nodded.

‘After the blood offering, we should've been released.' Catherine pulled me close to her, and I heard her heart thud. ‘But instead the ancestors gifted us with a vision.'

She stepped out of the hug to gaze at me with starry eyes. She was covered in the same blood and dirt as me, but while I felt like despair personified, Catherine radiated joy.

‘The vision confirmed the prophecy,' she said. ‘You are the witch we've been waiting for.'

‘OK, we did not see the same thing,' I replied, bending down to scoop up the shining silver dagger from the ground. ‘What I saw was terrifying. If that's what's going to happen after my Becoming, I don't know if this life is something I want.'

She held her hand out for the dagger and I paused, testing the weight of it in my hand before I passed it over. ‘How do you feel now?'

‘Stronger,' I admitted, exploring the changes in myself. ‘Closer to the magic.'

I held out my hand and a flame sparked into life in my palm. Catherine let out a happy laugh. Just a glimpse through that open door had given me so much strength. What would happen when I stepped through it? I closed my hand and the fire disappeared. It wasn't extinguished, only gone from view. The fire was inside me.

‘I saw you saving the city,' Catherine said. ‘You were holding back the flames.'

‘No,' I disagreed, the heat moving through my veins. ‘I was the flames.'

She tilted her head to one side, considering my version, then picked up the hem of her dress as she walked away.

‘You're wrong,' she called. ‘You'll see.'

And this time, I very much hoped she was right.

When I climbed out of my bedroom window the next morning at dawn, I didn't know where I was going but the city did.

Barnett had delivered us home only a couple of hours earlier, bloody and broken, although Catherine's hand was completely healed by the time we crossed the threshold of Bell House. Neither of us said very much but when she hugged me at the top of the staircase, I knew we weren't carrying the same fear in our hearts. We might have seen the same vision but the two of us had interpreted it very differently. For what seemed like an eternity, I stood under a scalding hot shower until the water ran cold, my skin red raw and sore to the touch, but it was nothing compared to the heat of the flames I had wrought in my vision. Those all-consuming, white-hot, black flames.

Sleep was never going to come and as soon as the first rays of light were in the sky, I was out in the streets, the soft comfort of Savannah all around me. This early in the day, there was no one to share it with but the songbirds.

My dad and I had lived in a lot of wonderful places; towns and villages with centuries of stories and generations of families who welcomed us with open arms. I'd been happy in all of them, but Savannah was different. Without even realizing, I'd fallen in love with the city. Slowly at first then all at once. That's what they said, wasn't it? I loved the townhouses and mansions and every single staircase that ran up from the street to meet a red front door. I loved all remaining twenty-two squares, the oaks, the palmettos, beeches, maples, and the magnolias. I loved the dappled light that danced up Jones Street, the steep death-trap steps that led down to River Street and even the tourist-laden trolleys both Catherine Bell and Lydia Powell had declared the bane of their existence, possibly the only thing they agreed on in this world. I loved the fresh biscuits, the fried chicken, the pralines, the sausage gravy and, so help me, I was even starting to love the sweet tea. I didn't want to lose this place. I couldn't be the cause of its destruction.

As the beautiful morning flourished around me, I turned, walking south until I came to Forsyth Park. I hadn't been near it since the day of the storm but I easily found my way back to the tree with the heart, following the same path I'd taken with Lydia and Jackson. The fallen limb had been removed but no one could take away the scar it left behind. Huge strips of bark had been torn away and the exposed wood shifted from pale beige to golden brown as nature healed itself. I looped slowly around the tree, searching for the carving. It was higher up than I remembered, a fist-sized heart pierced by an arrow with a feathered flight and inside, just the insinuation of two initials. If you didn't know what they were, you wouldn't be able to read them. But I knew. P+A. Paul and Angelica.

‘Emily?'

My heart all but leapt out of my mouth when I turned and saw Jackson waving at me from the footpath. He jogged on the spot, shirtless and covered in sweat. His body glistened. I'd never seen so many muscles on one human being outside of a superhero movie.

‘Hi! Jackson! Hello!'

I threw both arms straight up in the air at the same time before remembering that wasn't a normal greeting in any culture. No matter what else might be happening in the world, Jackson Powell was still forget-how-to-be-a-human handsome.

‘Come to check on our arch nemesis?'

‘You know what they say,' I replied with a very serious glance back at the tree. ‘Know your enemy. How's your leg?'

He looked down and rotated his ankle a few times, his calf muscles popping as he flexed.

‘Stronger than ever. I thought it was broken but it can't have been that bad if a few herbs could cure it.'

‘Herbs?' I repeated, the word cracking in my throat.

‘Your grandmother gave me this crazy salve she said would help with the swelling,' he explained. ‘Burned hotter than blue blazes when I put it on, but the next day my leg was as good as new. She should sell that stuff, it's magic.'

‘Yeah.' I held onto the tree with both hands. ‘It is.'

‘How come you're out so early?' He took a second look at my outfit. ‘In your … pyjamas?'

I glanced down at my matching cotton shorts and shirt, pale blue with navy piping and my updated initials, ECJB, monogrammed on the front pocket.

‘Couldn't sleep.' I was aiming for breezy but came up somewhere closer to hysterical. ‘Trying to clear my head. In my pyjamas.'

‘In your cute pyjamas,' Jackson corrected and I smiled. He really couldn't help himself.

‘Lydia told me she's planning your birthday party,' he added, leaving the footpath to join me underneath the tree. A balled-up white tank hung from the back of his shorts, bouncing over his butt as he walked. ‘According to my sister, it's going to be the hottest party Savannah has ever seen. I hope you know what you're letting yourself in for.'

‘She swore she would keep it small,' I said with a groan. ‘She lied, didn't she?'

‘Maybe just a little.' He raised one arm and knocked on the trunk of the tree before leaning against it oh-so casually. ‘She also kind of mentioned you were seeing some guy but he left town or something?'

Thank you, Lydia, I thought, straining to keep the polite smile on my face.

‘Right,' I said through gritted teeth.

‘Right,' he echoed. ‘I wanted to offer my services as your date for the party.'

‘You're joking?'

I didn't mean to sound quite so horrified by his proposal.

He pulled the tank out from his waistband and yanked it over his head. ‘Should I take that as a thanks but no thanks?'

‘You should take it as a thank you so much, I'm so incredibly flattered you would even ask,' I said right away, cringing at my lack of tact. ‘What I meant was "I think you're amazing but I'm not ready to go on any dates with anyone just yet but I really would like you to be at the party". Is that better?'

‘Guess I should have made my move sooner,' he replied with a self-deprecating grin. ‘You know I wanted to ask you out right away but Lyds said I wasn't allowed. Being a gentleman gets you nowhere.'

‘Agree to disagree. I think it gets you exactly where you ought to be,' I told him. ‘When the time is right.'

‘Then maybe we could rain check on that date?'

He looked so hopeful, so genuine, I didn't have it in me to say no. Hopeful and genuine with perfectly symmetrical features and eyelashes so long and lush I could have used them to sweep the streets.

‘Maybe,' I replied, laughing when he jumped up to high five the tree in celebration.

‘I'm going to quit while I'm ahead.' Jackson touched his fingers to his forehead in a salute then jogged back onto the path. ‘Gotta finish my run before the heat starts to kick. See you soon, Em.'

I waved as he went, lingering under the tree to wonder what might have been. What if I'd stayed in the Powell house that first morning? What if he asked me out right away? How would things be different if I'd lost an afternoon making out with Jackson until my lips were raw instead of Wyn? Jackson was stupidly hot and improbably nice for someone so ripped. A month ago, I would have fallen over on the spot at the very thought of going on a date with him. But now there was just one very sticky, immovable obstacle in the way of us being together.

He wasn't Wyn.

Ten minutes of speed walking later, I found myself outside Wyn's apartment. It was empty, the shutters closed on the old carriage house and not a trace of his energy inside. But would I be able to feel him somewhere else? Quickly making sure no one was watching, I crossed the street and touched the door handle. With my eyes closed, I thought back to the last time I'd been here with him, that long afternoon spent in his bed, and searched. I cast my net wider, out through the city, all the way to the far boundaries of Forsyth Park and beyond, up to the Savannah River, over Tybee Island. Before the Wilcuma, it might have stopped there but today things were different. I focused harder, imagining a map of the United States, picturing Asheville and the little mountain town outside of it that he'd described in such loving detail.

I found him.

He was alive.

I couldn't explain, not even to myself, but I knew in my bones he was still here. He was far away, somewhere he couldn't reach me, but still alive and for now at least, knowing that was enough. Maybe it would be better if he kept his distance, I thought, dragging myself away from his apartment as the memories of my vision returned unbidden. Even if I felt like I was missing a limb or a vital organ, he would be safe.