15. Sixteen Corbin

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN: CORBIN

" S omeone help me!"

Aline's shrill voice echoed up the staircase. I tossed down the book I'd been reading, threw open the door to my bedroom, and fled down the hall.

What now? Is it the fae?

Aline's yells came from the kitchen. I yanked open the secret passage and vaulted down the staircase in one leap. My naked torso slammed against the wall at the bottom. I shoved the secret door open and rushed into the room. The sight that greeted me turned my blood cold.

No.

Aline knelt in the middle of the kitchen floor, surrounded by squished blueberries and broken ceramics. Rowan slumped against the counter, blood gushing down his face. His eyes glassy, his body unmoving.

Rowan.

"He's not breathing!" Aline wailed, cupping his cheek.

I sprinted across the kitchen. Sharp sherds dug into the pads of my feet, but I didn't slow down. I grabbed Rowan and laid him down on his back. His legs and arms stuck straight out. I tipped his head back to open his airway and checked for breath. Aline was right. Rowan had stopped breathing.

"Call an ambulance," I called out as I checked his pulse. He had one, which was a good sign, but it was faint and thready. With Rowan's intense anxiety and the medication he was in, a fall like this could throw his body into shutdown. I needed to try and get more blood and oxygen around his body.

I moved to his chest, placing the heel of my hand on the centre of his chest. With my other hand on top, I interlocked my fingers the way my mother had taught me when the twins were born. With my shoulders over Rowan's chest, I pushed down, feeling his sternum rock beneath me. I counted out the beats in my head. One, two, three, four, five...

After thirty compressions, I tipped Rowan's head back again, pinching his nose and blowing precious air into his lungs. One, two... c'mon Rowan...

He didn't respond. His glassy eyes stared back at me, cold and lifeless.

My whole chest collapsed. Air leaked from the hole where my heart had been. Don't think about it. Don't panic. You have to focus for Rowan.

Rowan would have found it funny that I was the one counting.

No, don't think in the past tense. Rowan is not going to die. Rowan is not Keegan. Rowan has a future.

"You hear that, Rowan?" I muttered as I compressed his chest again. "You're not dying on me, you bastard."

After another thirty, I tipped his head back, pinched his nostrils, and breathed into his mouth. A mouth that only hours before I'd kissed goodnight. Lips that had pressed against mine with such intensity and now hung slack against his teeth.

One…two…

Rowan coughed. My heart leapt. I lifted him up as his entire body convulsed, kicking sherds across the room. I clung to him as he sucked in breath after glorious breath, resting my head in his shoulder, my lips against his neck.

"Don't ever do that to me again," I whispered against his skin.

For the first time since I'd seen him lying there, I became aware we weren't alone. "God, Rowan." Maeve wrapped her arms around him, burying her head in his dreadlocks. I embraced them both, my body trembling with the knowledge of just how close I'd come to losing him. His fingers tightened around my bicep, then dropped.

"Ambulance?" I asked. Now that Rowan was okay, I didn't want them showing up and asking questions.

Aline shook her head. "I don't know how to work the…mobile phone thingie. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. What happened?" I glared at Aline.

"I don't know! We were just talking, and he was leaning forward. I thought he was just really interested, but then he seemed to be holding himself upright. Next thing I know his head bounced off the counter and he was on the floor and he wasn't breathing."

"Even if the fall knocked him out, he shouldn't have stopped breathing! His heartbeat shouldn't have been so weak."

"He was having trouble breathing right before he fell." Aline glanced at her arm, which was stained blue from berry juice. "Maybe he had an allergic reaction?"

"He's not allergic to anything except stress. My guess is you frightened him into a panic attack and he fainted before he hit the counter. Now he's probably got a concussion. What were you talking about?" I demanded.

"About the coven! He wanted to know about his parents."

My heart pounded in my ears. No, don't let him find out about ? —

Rowan's nails dug into my arm. "My grandparents…" he choked out.

Shit.

Rowan's eyes watered. "You never told me," he murmured.

"Because I was afraid that this would happen," I smoothed his hair.

"You should have said something. I had to find out…like this."

"Corbin, what's going on?" Maeve asked.

"My grandparents…they lived right down the road ." Rowan's voice rose with every word. "They might still live there. Corbin knew, and he never told me. You never told me."

His words cut through me like Arthur's sword slicing through a Far Darrig. I glared at Aline. This was her fault. She should never have said anything, or let him get this upset. Couldn't she see how much her words stressed him out?

"I knew if I told you then you'd want to see them," I say quietly. "They're not nice people. I always meant to tell you, but you made so much progress and I didn't want you to relapse, and then months turned into years and it was too late."

"That was my decision to make."

"I know you. I know what you can deal with, and seeing them would've broken you. I visited them. They were the first people I tried when I went looking for you. Melanie told me she'd paid some officials a lot of money to make it appear as if you had no family. They changed your name, your story, everything." Rowan's face froze in an expression of such raw pain. My throat closed up. "They told me if you ever showed up on their estate, they'd have you shot."

"I needed to see them, Corbin. I needed to know for myself, but you kept me from my family."

"We're your family. I thought that was obvious. They don't give a shit about you and I do. I've done everything for you. I helped you get sober. I got you through the diagnosis and treatment. I protected you?—"

"You can't protect people by sticking them in a bubble." Rowan's eyes flashed. His body shook so hard his foot tapped against the counter.

"Is that what I did?" my voice boomed. "I stuck you in a cage like an animal at the zoo? Or did I wipe your fucking arse and clean up your puke and hold you down so you wouldn't throw yourself out a fucking window?"

Flynn winced. I was being a total dick. I didn't want to yell at Rowan, but I couldn't stop. My hands trembled.

I nearly lost him. And it was like…it was like he was blaming me.

I already blamed myself enough for both of us.

"I'm not Keegan!" Rowan shouted. He kicked out with his leg, splintering the wooden cupboard door.

The crack of the wood breaking froze the room. Rowan never raised his voice, never yelled, never lashed out in anger. Not since he got sober. I sucked in slow, laboured breaths, trying to force some calm into my shattered body. Maeve's eyes bore into mine.

Rowan lowered his voice, choking out the words. "Corbin, you know I'm not Keegan."

The room spun. Rowan's face morphed into Keegan's – the last time I'd seen him alive, when he'd railed on me in a mighty rage, screaming that I was the favourite, that I wanted him out of the way so I could have Mum and Dad all to myself. And then he climbed up a tree with a length of rope and…and...

"I know you're not Keegan," I whispered.

"You don't, you don't! You think that I'm mad at you, so I'm going to off myself just to spite you. You think everything that's wrong with me could be cured if you just work hard enough . You think if you save enough of us, you'll be absolved of your guilt. But it's not enough, Corbin. It's never going to be enough, because you have nothing to be guilty about. Your brother died because he was unhappy and his head was messed up. It had nothing to do with you. You think I'm the one who's messed up like that, but you're not going to get any peace until you forgive yourself."

My knees cracked as they hit the tiles. I barely registered the pain shooting up my thigh. A deep growl rose from my chest, tearing out of my mouth before I could stop it. Blake stepped back, his expression terrified.

Rowan shuffled forward. He rested a hand on my knee, and his eyes watered with shared pain. "It's not your fault," he whispered. "None of it is your fault."

"I…"

Nope, I couldn't do it. I couldn't dislodge the guilt.

It was my fault.

I'd been so angry at Keegan for all the things I said, I yelled back instead of trying to help him. I didn't go after him when he ran. I spent the last hours of his life hating him, and he needed me.

I nearly lost Rowan.

"Corbin, listen to us. I can see it in your face – you're still blaming yourself for all of this." Maeve knelt beside us both, her hands resting on our shoulders. "The same goes for both of you. The things that happened to you aren't your fault, either, Rowan. Being sick isn't a punishment. It's just a shitty thing that happened."

"I made those choices," Rowan's lips brushed against my shoulder. Wet tears rolled down my shoulder. "Corbin can't blame himself for my punishments."

"It's not a punishment ." Maeve glared at him. "You need to believe that."

"I don't really know what's going on here," Aline piped up. "But I think I know something that will help."

I glared at her, stroking Rowan's back. "It would help if you didn't fuck things up. If you hadn't said anything to him, none of this would have happened."

Aline winced. Maeve's hand grazed my other shoulder. "You can't blame her for this. She doesn't know the whole history of what's happened. But she's not going to fix it, either."

"I can!" Aline insisted. "Some of the witches in my coven came to Briarwood to escape bad situations, too. Rowan's mother Dana was one. Flynn, your mother was another. The first ritual we performed together was a cleansing. I wanted people to feel like when they entered the walls of this castle, who they were and where they came from and what they've done didn't matter. They get to start over. That what you all need – to cast off the past and cleanse yourselves of the negative energy that's corrupting your minds."

"Does it work?" Blake's voice dripped with interest.

"It did. Dana was able to make peace with what her parents did. Flynn's mother Bronagh stopped letting her hatred of the man who raped her corrupt her spirit." Aline pressed her hands to her heart. "I discovered the capacity to think of people other than myself."

I glanced around the room. Arthur leaned against the doorframe, naked from the waist up, his tattoos crossing his skin like the scars he covered with his hand. Flynn sat on the bottom step of the secret passage, his head in his hands, the weight of his own pain crushing the humanity out of him. Blake dangled his legs over the edge of the counter, his usual smirk invisible behind an unreadable expression, Rowan in my arms, his body trembling under the weight of his newest trauma.

And Maeve…kneeling beside me, her cheek pressed against my shoulder, that incredulous look on her face she got whenever someone talked about astrology or woo woo magic. I could practically see the cogs whirring in her head. "That sounds dumb. It's a fallacious attribution of the relationship between thoughts and deeds. Dancing around in a circle makes people feel like they've done something to help themselves, so they attribute any improvement to the magic when it's really the chemical changes in their brain. What Corbin and Rowan both need is to see a properly qualified psychologist."

Aline's face fell. "How can you say that? You're a witch ."

"Transference of energy makes sense in a scientific concept, even if the rituals are hokey Gandalf the Grey stuff. But as the High Priestess, it's irresponsible of me to advocate chanting and crystals to cure real and deep psychological pain."

Maeve's jaw set in the firm line that meant she wasn't going to be argued with. But behind the incredulous stare, her own pain lingered. The grief of what she'd lost and the weight of protecting Kelly and Jane and Connor and the world that bowed her shoulders hovered over her like a cloud of darkness. Even though she didn't believe it would, she hoped this cleansing would help.

Maeve, Arthur, Flynn, Blake, and Rowan all carried burdens. They needed to be free.

I didn't want to let go of Keegan. I didn't know who I was without the shadow of him looming over me. But they all needed this, even if Maeve was intent on denying it. And I would do whatever they needed. I would keep them safe.

"I think we should do it," I said.

"Corbin, I'm in charge here," Maeve sighed.

"I know, and you still make the final decision. This is my opinion – I think there's no harm in trying the cleansing. Even if you're completely right and it does nothing except act like a magical placebo, if it helps, then that's a good thing. If it doesn't, then the only thing we've lost is a few hours sleep."

"I needed that sleep," Maeve grumbled.

"I agree with Corbin," Arthur said, rubbing his arm at the elbow. "It's worth a shot."

"It's not like you to be afraid of a little casual relationship, Princess," Blake grinned.

Rowan looked up, his eyes wide, his face streaked with dried blood and tears. "I want to do it."

"Fine!" Maeve threw up her arms. "The science nerd overruled by the hippie witches. Let's do this."

Unlike most rituals that were better performed outside in the open air, Aline insisted the cleansing take place inside Briarwood. "These are the walls that protect us, after all. They can be symbolic as well."

We gathered in the Great Hall, pushing the furniture to the edges while Aline helped Rowan prepare another potion. This one was green and looked even less appetizing than the sleeping draught we'd used to dream travel to the fae realm – if that was even possible. Rowan brought in the tray of shot glasses and placed them on the small coffee table in the centre of the room.

"You have no idea how much I wish those were filed with whiskey." Flynn made a face that mirrored the way my stomach felt.

Aline arranged several objects on the table – sage incense sticks, a thick pillar candle on a large silver tray, a goblet of water, a ritual blade called an athame, and a small tray of salt. "As soon as Maeve's ready, we can start."

"I'm ready. How do I look?"

I whirled around. Maeve stood on the doorway, dressed in a flowing white dress that set off her dark hair and glittering eyes. The Briarwood pendant hung between her breasts and she held up her hand to show off the matching ring. The pink streak in her fringe reflected against the diadem in the centre of her forehead, giving the glittering stone a pinkish tinge.

"Enchanting." I wrapped her in my arms, kissing the top of her head and breathing in the fresh fruity scent of her shampoo.

"That's a relief, because I feel ridiculous." Maeve yanked up the skirt so I could see a pair of black-and-white striped socks and her boots underneath. "I'm the wicked witch of the west."

"Funny, I've never noticed any warts," I brought my mouth to hers. Our bodies melted together as we shared a deep, lingering kiss.

Another hand slid around my waist, and the familiar rosemary and flour scent of Rowan filled my nostrils as he pressed his body against ours. "Thank you for doing this," he whispered. "Both of you."

Maeve tipped her head to claim his mouth. I wiped his locs off his cheek so I could kiss his midnight skin. His long lashes tangled together as his eyes fluttered shut. Maeve and Flynn had done a decent job patching up the cut on his head, and a small bandage on his hairline was the only reminder of how close we'd come to losing him.

A throat cleared behind us. Aline held up the salt container, her lips in a tight line. "It's already well past midnight. We should get started."

My eyes locked on Aline's face as Maeve slid from our arms and moved across the room. Aline may be a powerful witch freed from a terrible spell, but she was still Maeve's mother. As far as I knew, Maeve hadn't told her we were all her magisters, but she hadn't exactly been keeping it a secret, either. I wondered how Aline would react when she discovered the true extent of her daughter's harem.

Judging by the pursed expression on her face, not great. But we could deal with that later.

Aline handed around the tray with the shot glasses and we all knocked them back. The foul liquid stung my throat and made tears burn in the corners of my eyes. Arthur caught my eye across the circle and screwed his face up, eliciting a choking laugh from Flynn.

Maeve moved to stand at the northern end of the circle, in front of the stone fireplace. The rest of us stood at points around the circle. Aline held up the salt and moved to the outside of the circle, then seemed to change her mind. She stood in front of Maeve, touching her hand to her daughter's cheek as she handed over the salt. "This is your job now."

To Maeve's credit, she didn't flinch from the woman's touch, although her eyes betrayed how uncomfortable she felt. She took the salt and used it to cast the circle, then followed the salt with the lit candle.

At Aline's signal, Arthur lit the incense with a wave of his hand. Smoky sage filled the room.

"Breathe deep of this magical herb," Aline said. "Bring forth the dark memories that taunt you, the shame and guilt that blocks the flow of magical energy and prevents you living in the full light of the Goddess."

It was all a little ‘woo-woo' as Maeve would put it, but if it helped the guys, it was worth it.

Rowan stood directly opposite me, between Aline and Arthur, his eyes closed and his hands raised toward the ceiling. A wet trail marked his cheek. I hated that we even had to do this for him. Rowan shouldered the blame for all the pain in his life, and not a single bit of it was his fault. Beside him, Arthur stood with his arms folded, his fingers touching the scars on his arm. How long had he been cutting again? That drove me wild. I thought he'd got over it.

Yet another person I couldn't save.

Arthur's gaze swivelled around to glare at me. It's not your fault, he mouthed at me. I shook my head. This ritual wasn't about me. I didn't need it.

After a few moments of silence, Aline said, "As Corbin moves the sage around the circle, hold out your hand to receive the blessing and say, "With air, I cleanse myself.'"

Happy to do everything I could to help, I held my palm out toward the table and called up the pillar of magic rising inside me. The air between my fingers sizzled as I grabbed it with my mind and twisted, pulling the trails of incense toward me. I breathed in the heady smell, memories of Rowan in the kitchen coursing through my mind. "With air, I cleanse myself," I muttered, for Rowan's benefit. I flicked my hand to shift the flow of incense toward Flynn.

"With air, I cleanse myself," Flynn said, his face unusually serious. Flynn was always hard to read – he never said much that wasn't a joke. But when I'd found him he'd been running away from a life in the Irish mob, and I had a suspicion that humour hid a dark past.

I passed the air around the circle, touching it to each person's skin. Now it was Arthur's turn. He held his hand out in front of him, palm up. His eyes narrowed, and a small ball of fire appeared.

I jumped as a fireball burst to life in front of me. The heat blasted my face. Identical fireballs hovered in front of every other witch in the circle.

I glanced over at Arthur in surprise. He could control that many files simultaneously? He focused on his hand, his gaze even, his beard framing pursed lips. He looked completely calm.

This is the same Arthur that nearly burns down the castle every time he gets agitated? It doesn't compute.

Aline nodded to Blake, who stood between Arthur and me. Blake waved his hand over top of the flame. "With fire, I cleanse myself."

My turn. I swept my hand over the flame, feeling the sharp heat on my palm. "With fire, I cleanse myself."

The air in the room shifted, heavy with the fragrance of sage and the weight of our pain. Magic sizzled in the air around us. For all Maeve's derision of this ritual (and a bit of my own too, I admit) it had raised a cone of magic more powerful than we'd ever managed on our own before. I sniffed the air. Behind the sage was a familiar scent – hyacinth and butterscotch.

My mother's perfume.

That's weird. At first I thought I was having some kind of reaction to the disgusting potion we'd had to drink. But as the smell grew stronger, bringing with it memories of my childhood at Briarwood – baking in the kitchen with Mum, translating books in the library with Dad, building forts in the wood with Keegan.

Flynn was next. He stepped forward and picked up the cup, waving his palm over it so the water curled up into a liquid ribbon that poured through his fingers. "With water, I cleanse myself," he said, and passed the goblet to Aline. Flynn's ribbon of water trailed around her fingers, looping between her bare hands. She passed it on, and the ribbon curled around each of our fingers as we all said the words.

As the cool water slid over my skin, a memory flashed in front of me. Keegan and I camping overnight in the woods for his tenth birthday. We found a little stream trickling down behind the Raynard estate, and followed it until we came to a flat area that was perfect for pitching our tent. Keegan splashed around in the water while I set up the tent and got a fire running. While my back was turned he found a rock the size of his fist and threw it at the back of my head. My vision swam and I passed out, toppling forward and burning my wrist on the fire...

My wrist flared with heat. A thousand needles jabbed into my skin. I yanked my hand out of the water, and the pain stopped.

Don't think about it. This is ridiculous. You haven't thought about that in years.

When the goblet returned to Flynn, he set it down on the table. "Rowan, your turn," Aline said.

At first I didn't think he'd heard her. He didn't move. "Rowan?" I asked.

Rowan blinked. He stepped forward, passing his foot in front of himself as if he expected a giant hole to open in the floor and swallow him. He grabbed the salt off the table and held it out in front of him, pinching the granules between his fingers. "With earth, I cleanse myself."

As I watched in awe, beneath his fingers a tiny shoot rose up from the salt, two leaves unfurling and opening up toward the light above.

Rowan passed the salt to Arthur, then to Blake. More tiny shoots sprung up from the white granules and wound around their fingers. Blake passed the dish to me. As I pinched the granules and muttered the words, magic hummed up my arms. Memories slammed into me – me waking up back in my room at the castle with a pounding headache. Dad explaining Keegan had run back to tell him I'd tripped and hurt my head. Keegan led Dad back to where I'd fallen and Dad carried me out of the woods. Keegan stood beside my bed, his wide eyes brimming with guilt and pain. My parents exchanged a troubled glance, as though they knew exactly what had really happened.

"With…" My voice wavered. "With earth, I cleanse myself."

Passing the dish to Flynn caused me physical pain – my arms ached to cradle it. Tears sprung in my eyes. Images of Keegan flashed in front of my eyes – all the violent things he did to me over the years, and to himself. All the sweet moments we'd shared. All the times my parents left me to look after the twins for days or weeks at a time while they took him to another specialist. And always his pale face and limp body swinging from that rope.

I want this stupid ritual to stop, now.

I blinked, trying to force away the memories. Only one more element to go.

Aline indicated that we take hands. I shoved my hands out, trying to keep my shoulders and elbows locked so no one noticed my hands were shaking. Flynn slid his sweaty mitt into mine. Blake squeezed my fingers and turned toward me.

"You okay, mate?"

"Fine," I growled.

"You don't look fine."

"Well, I am." I turned to Maeve. "Your turn."

"With spirit, I cleanse us all," Maeve said, narrowing her eyes.

It's okay. I can handle this. I can ? —

Heat flared down my arms. The memories rushed on me like a freight train, bowling me over with Keegan's smile, Keegan's laugh, Keegan's eighth birthday where Dad took us both for a ride in a real Spitfire, Keegan's scream, Keegan smashing paintings in the Great Hall. Keegan's body swinging, swinging...

Keegan's face morphed into Rowan's. Rowan, waking up and realising I'd effectively kidnapped him. Rowan smashing a priceless Wedgewood plate. Rowan on his second return from rehab, glassy-eyed and unresponsive. Rowan's gleeful grin when he plunged his hands into freshly turned-over garden beds. Rowan's shy smile when he presented me with his first ever batch of scones – sweet and light and wonderful, just like him.

My legs shook. Nausea welled up in my stomach, pushing against the back of my throat.

"The energies that no longer serve us, leave now," Aline said. "We have carried your presence this far. Now, we release you and ask you to leave."

The nausea hummed inside my head. My lips trembled. I forced my facial muscles to move, to form the words.

"Goddess, fill these bodies with your healing light. Give us the peace we desire so that we may continue our good works."

Light filled my vision, piercing my skull so I wasn't just seeing it, I dwelt in it. My whole body trembled and lurched and convulsed, as something dark and sickening welled up from my stomach and spewed from my mouth.

I slid into the light, and lost myself to the world.