25

M iles squinted down at the paper in his hand, skimming over the instructions a final time. Charlee had double and triple-checked for him earlier, too—it was the best he could do without asking his parents. A few yards away, he'd made a circle in black salt and put the iron box containing Florence's ring in the middle. It was open, but the chunks of peridot, black tourmaline, and labradorite would keep her spirit at bay until Miles summoned her. Around the salt circle, he'd lit several candles, white for protection, blue for communication and truth. Hopefully they'd help Gabriel get the answers he was so desperate for.

He'd set up his station on one of the thicker tombstones. Balanced on top were more lit white candles, a bowl of purified rainwater that he'd salted and steeped with pepper, and a dried bundle of herbs. To the side was a stubby black candle—but that was for later.

"Do you have your protection charms?" he asked Gabriel, who'd been watching Miles set up with keen eyes. He'd warned Miles he'd never done anything like this, but that wasn't a problem. He'd have an easier time without Gabriel distracting him.

Gabriel nodded. Good. Miles wanted to think he'd managed to set this up right, but it was reassuring to know if he hadn't, at least neither of them would get possessed.

"Okay." He scanned everything again—it all seemed in place. "Come stand over here."

Gabriel joined him, his cheekbones sharp and shadowed in the candlelight. Taking the sack of black salt, Miles made a large circle around them. It was identical to what he'd made around Florence's ring—that one to contain her until Miles could complete the ritual to banish her, this one to protect him and Gabriel if anything went wrong.

A current ran through the air when Miles closed the circle, raising the hairs on his arms.

He pulled a mason jar from his bag and unscrewed the top. Gabriel leaned in for a better view, then wrinkled his nose at the strong odor.

"Do I want to know what that is?"

"It's Four Thieves Vinegar." He walked around the salt circle, tipping the jar enough to sprinkle the liquid along the perimeter. "It's one of the strongest protections you can make—apple cider vinegar, garlic, cayenne, thyme, and rosemary."

"I'm sure the smell alone would drive the Devil back to hell."

Miles couldn't help but snicker.

Once he'd walked the whole perimeter, he resealed the jar and set it in the grass. Now they needed Florence to make her appearance.

"Stay within the circle, no matter what happens," Miles warned Gabriel, taking his place behind the tombstone. "This is your only chance to talk to her, because I can't hesitate to banish her if anything starts to go wrong."

Out here, under the faint glow of the moon and scattered stars, flickering candlelight the only thing keeping the shadows at bay, Gabriel was the most solid thing, the most real. The sight of him grounded Miles even as it pinched at his chest.

He took the bundle of dried herbs and a lighter from his pocket, letting the ends catch fire and gently blowing it out until they were smoldering, wisps rising into the night sky.

"Wormwood and mullein," he explained to Gabriel, setting the smoking bundle on the gravestone. "They'll help force her out."

"Aren't you supposed to say an incantation or spell?"

Miles tried and failed to hold back a smile. It wasn't often he knew something Gabriel didn't. "It's not necessary. Words are just to focus your intent; they don't actually do anything. It's science as much as magic—energy interacting, reacting, changing. Saying it out loud isn't going to change that."

From his other pocket, he pulled out a slip of paper, Florence's full name written on it in thick ink. Holding it over the flame of the nearest white candle, he let it catch fire, releasing it when heat kissed the tips of his fingers. The ash fell into the bowl of water.

"Here we are, in the middle of a cemetery at midnight, casting a spell to summon a ghost, and you have the audacity to lecture me about science," Gabriel muttered.

Miles shushed him.

As the smoke wafted across the cemetery, the ring quaked against the stone, clinking softly. This was the trickiest part—the protection aspects working against the summoning, creating a crack big enough for the spirit to slip through.

Around them, the candle flames flickered and sputtered. Miles felt the swell of energy in the air, the shadows twisting to reach towards the ring with long fingers, and then Florence appeared.

For the first time, Miles was able to get a good look at her. The woman who'd murdered her own sister for power and cursed her bloodline, who would have murdered him and Gabriel given the chance.

She was similar to Jocelyn. They had the same midnight-dark hair—the shade identical to Gabriel's—and her features were striking, her cheekbones set high on a haughty, pointed face, her mouth thin and unsmiling. The neck of her dress gathered under her chin and came in tight at the waist, sleeves covering down to her wrists. A ghostly glow illuminated the grass around her.

"What is this?" she asked, her voice sending a chill over the cemetery. Her piercing gaze landed on Miles and her nostrils flared. " Warren ."

Either she recognized him, or she had a seriously supernatural sense of smell.

Gabriel stepped forward, the tips of his shoes almost nudging the salt line. "I'm—"

"I remember you ," she interrupted. " You're the boy with all the sad little thoughts rattling around in his head. The second son ."

She was surprisingly lucid, more so than Miles had ever encountered in a spirit this old.

"And you're the woman who murdered her own sister in cold blood," Gabriel responded coolly.

A macabre, skeletal grin stretched her lips too wide.

"I want to know what you did," Gabriel continued. "To us, to the family, when you killed Jocelyn. And how to undo it."

"Undo it? Even if it could be undone, why would you, you foolish boy? You don't realize what a gift I've given you. What power ."

Gabriel's hands balled into fists at his sides. "It's not a gift—it's a curse. This thing crawling beneath my skin, in my blood—it's evil."

Florence scoffed. " The men of our family always were weak. Desperate, writhing little rats ."

Miles had been determined to let Gabriel do all the talking, but her tone sparked hot anger in him. "Is that why you were going to kill him? He's only good to you as a sacrifice?"

She narrowed in on Miles, freezing the air in his lungs. " You found my grimoire ."

"We did," Gabriel confirmed. "So understand that this is your opportunity to go into the afterlife with dignity. Tell me how to undo the curse, or I'll go through your grimoire and find the answer myself."

"No ." She smirked, and it was uncomfortably familiar. " It cannot be undone ."

"Stop lying," Miles demanded. She had to be lying. "Nothing you say is going to change anything—you're not going to kill Gabriel, you're not going to do your spell, you're not coming back to life. It's over. Soon, you'll be gone, and that future with you."

Florence's laugh echoed across the cemetery. " Ah, I see. You've had a death premonition. That's a heavy burden to carry. And often, worthless ."

"Not this time." Miles gripped the headstone tightly. "Remember Jocelyn, the sister you killed? She's the one who warned us, so we could stop you. She's the reason you've lost."

He saw his taunting words land. Florence's lips peeled back, baring her teeth in a wicked snarl. " Jocelyn. My foolish sister, always meddling, even in death ." She turned back to Gabriel. " Heed my words: fate is never that easy to escape. If I'm not the one to kill you, someone else will be. I imagine someone close to you, one of your family perhaps, will do the deed. After all, murder is in our blood, isn't it?"

Gabriel stumbled back a step as if her words had physically struck him. She was trying to get in his head because she knew it was over for her.

"That's enough." Miles grabbed his lighter.

" You're both fools. You think that you, a child, can banish me?" The wind picked up, rustling through the trees around them and making the candlelight dance. Florence lifted her arms, and energy pulsed across the cemetery, the gravestones quaking in the ground. " You have no idea of the power I possess ."

Miles needed to end this, now . He flicked his lighter, once, then twice, before it sparked to life. Cupping his hand around the top of the black candle, his fingers shook as he held the flame to the wick. If he could light it, then extinguish it in the bowl of salted water, she'd be expelled.

"Miles." Gabriel's voice held a warning.

He glanced up and saw a storm.

Inside the salt circle containing Florence, shadows spun and whirled, a ferocious tornado around her. Her hair pulled free of its braid, whipping around. The skin of her face had faded, revealing a yellowed skull, its teeth bared in an extended, ghastly grin.

She lowered her arms and the darkness exploded.

It hit them like a shockwave. Miles managed to stay standing, the candle and bowl of water steady atop the gravestone, sheltered by the protective circle of his arms, but the air was still knocked out of him. Next to him, Gabriel crouched down, bracing against a gravestone so he didn't fall. His wide eyes found Miles.

The surge subsided, leaving Miles's ears ringing. All the candles that had illuminated the cemetery were extinguished, inviting the hungry night back in. Both circles were gone, obliterated, speckles of black salt scattered across the ground like glimmering ash. Where he'd sprinkled the Four Thieves Vinegar, the ground was steaming.

That was bad. Very bad.

"Where is she?" He snatched his lighter back up.

"I don't know. I don't see her."

If she'd fled, the ritual might not work. But that wasn't going to stop Miles from trying.

His lighter sputtered to life feebly. Teeth gritted, he held it to the wick again, heart nearly stopping when it lit. Now he needed to—

Something slammed into him, the candle and lighter leaping out of his hands as he went flying backward. He landed hard against the wet ground, the impact jolting through his whole body.

"Miles!"

He managed to sit up, the whole world spinning. "Get the candle!" he wheezed at Gabriel, his ribs aching. "Finish the ritual."

Goosebumps crept across his skin—it was the only warning he got before Florence manifested in front of him. She appeared more solid than ever, almost a real, living person, if not for the skull peering through translucent skin.

"What do you want?" he got out, trying to keep her attention as Gabriel crawled through the grass, sweeping his hands around for the candle. He looked ridiculous.

Her answer was to grab him by the front of his jacket, lifting him easily into the air. Her grip cinched it around his throat, choking the air out of him.

"I despise you Warrens ," Florence growled, sounding more demon than human. " Your whole family should be killed, wiped from every corner of this world. I'll drag you straight to hell myself ."

Spots blinked across his sight like the fairy lights in Charlee's room. Under his shirt, his protection charms vibrated against his skin, buzzing with power.

"I found it!" Gabriel yelled triumphantly—then cursed when he saw what was happening.

Distracted, Florence glared over her shoulder, her entire head twisting around. Miles reached up under his shirt and grabbed his necklace. Yanking with all his strength, the chain snapped, and he shoved the charms at Florence.

Her scream rattled the trees and the gravestones, the very ground shaking as she evaporated in a cloud of mist.

Miles dropped back to the ground, catching himself against a tombstone. He held his necklace out, his only shield, whirling around in a circle as he wheezed. She wasn't banished, but he hoped that hurt.

Gabriel hurried over, slipping in the grass. He grabbed Miles's shoulder to steady himself. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Miles rasped. "Stay behind me."

Gabriel held up the black candle. "I've got it. Now what?"

"Light it and extinguish it in the bowl of water." Across the cemetery, Miles could see it, miraculously still upright on the gravestone. "Make sure it's actually lit, then dunk it right in."

"Where's your lighter?"

He'd dropped it when Florence knocked him flat on his ass.

"I think it's over there with everything else. You'll have to find it."

A noise rustled behind them. Miles spun around, charms swinging wildly in his grip. The wind picked up again, a low howl racing through the graves. Sweat was sticking his shirt to his skin.

"I'll try to keep her distracted. Go finish the ritual. We have to get rid of her."

"Be careful." Gabriel squeezed his shoulder, then took off, weaving between the graves.

"I thought you said you had power," Miles called, lowering his charms. "Big words for someone hiding from a teenage boy."

Was goading a murderous, unleashed ghost the smartest thing he'd ever done? Probably not. But if it kept her away from Gabriel, he was prepared to taunt her all night.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with ." Florence's voice echoed around him. Her disgusting aura filled the whole graveyard, impossible to pinpoint.

"You keep saying that, but all you've done so far is blow out a few candles. I'm not exactly impressed."

Energy surged behind him, making his ears pop. He turned a little too slowly. All he saw was a flash of the skeletal grin that would haunt his nightmares—then he was flying through the air once again.

He slammed into something, hard. Pain exploded through him, and he cried out, curling in on himself. The scattered stars spun overhead as night snapped at the edges of his vision. He blinked rapidly, trying to move, to get up, to do anything.

"Miles!"

Gabriel's voice tore through the cemetery, but Miles couldn't respond. Coughing, he managed to roll onto his back, hot tears streaking down his cheeks.

Florence flickered into sight above him, her expression twisted in rage. Nothing human remained in her.

"You're a fool to think you could control me. Power doesn't belong to the weak ." She reached for him. " I'll show you what true power is ."

Miles had never been so afraid, so paralyzed by his fear. His limbs refused to work, his head heavy and dizzy. His vision swam. He couldn't move.

Her hand was inches from him when she froze. Shock snuffed her fury out, and for a moment, she looked young and lost. With an unearthly scream, she reared back and vanished.

Around him, all the candles blazed back to life in unison, basking the cemetery in a warm golden glow. Her suffocating aura was gone, the night air silent once more as the whipping wind faded away.

Miles slumped back weakly.

He might have blacked out for a second because the next thing he knew, Gabriel was crouched next to him, saying his name urgently. His face was almost as pale as Florence's had been, waxen in the candlelight.

"Cut it a little close there," Miles got out, mustering up a weak grin that might have been more of a pain-filled grimace. His brain beat against the walls of his skull in protest at being tossed around like a ragdoll.

It was difficult to focus, but there was no mistaking the flash of dismay. Gabriel seemed seconds away from being sick. He was clearly shaken, his eyes haunted. Miles had never seen him like that. It cut him, a knife against the tender, unprotected flesh right between his ribs.

"I'm sorry," Gabriel said hoarsely. "I thought she—" He swallowed.

He supported Miles as he tried to sit up, until he managed to slump back against the solid gravestone. Ah. So that was what Florence had thrown him into. He should have considered that before summoning her in a cemetery.

"It's okay. I'm okay."

It wasn't strictly true, but he'd say anything right now to get Gabriel to stop looking like that . Besides, everything had stopped spinning. The pain was turning into more of a dull ache. And they were both alive.

"Hey," Miles murmured, reaching for him. He meant to touch Gabriel's shoulder, but his hand landed in the wrong spot, cupping his cheek, the line of his jaw. "It wasn't your fault. I'm fine. Don't—don't look like that. It's okay."

They were so close, Gabriel's arm still under his own where he was supporting him. So when Gabriel closed the distance between them, it happened quickly enough that Miles didn't have time to react.

His lips were dry and soft against Miles's, the barest whisper of a kiss, but it sent his heart slamming against his ribcage, pounding in his ears. Gabriel pulled away by an inch or two, and let out a small, shuddering exhale, searing against Miles's mouth. In it, he heard relief and gratitude that warmed Miles from head to toe.

Oh.

Oh.

He hadn't known—hadn't realized—

"Gabriel," he murmured, not sure what words would follow. Not even sure what he was trying to say.

There must have been something in his voice that betrayed the feelings twisting in his gut, because Gabriel's eyes widened slightly, and he leaned back in, catching Miles's lips sweetly with his own once more. He wasn't sure who deepened the kiss, only that his fist was twisted in the front of Gabriel's jacket and Gabriel was holding him, thumb sweeping gently at the corner of Miles's jaw, his fingers so icy they burned against his flushed skin. Despite his cold touch, his mouth was unbearably, perfectly warm.

Miles wondered if Gabriel could feel his pulse beating away under his skin, if he could hear the dizzying swirl of his mind, if Miles could get back all the time he'd wasted not knowing just how devastatingly soft Gabriel's lips were. Then Gabriel shifted slightly with a noise that Miles felt more than he heard, and he didn't wonder anything else.

Something clicked into place in Miles's head, a piece he hadn't realized had been missing. It knocked the ground out from beneath him and he pulled Gabriel closer, holding him tightly, unwilling to let him go yet.

When they separated, gradually, reluctantly, Miles found his brain had been replaced with warm, slow-moving molasses.

Gabriel's eyebrows drew together in concern, which would have been a massive blow to Miles's already fragile self-confidence, but he lifted his hand between them. It was smeared with dark wetness.

"You're bleeding."

He blinked. He was dizzy, so dizzy—from being thrown around, from Gabriel's kisses and tentative touches—that it took him a solid second or two to realize what he'd said.

"Oh." Miles struggled to collect his scattered thoughts and not fixate on Gabriel's slightly swollen lips. "I must've hit my head."

"I didn't realize. We should get you back to Charlee so she can take you to the hospital."

But… Miles wanted to keep kissing him.

"I don't need a hospital," he said adamantly.

Gabriel ignored him and took Miles's arm, helping him to his feet. Sweetly—was Miles doomed to think everything Gabriel did was sweet now?—Gabriel held onto him until he was sure he wasn't going to topple over.

"I'm going to grab the ring," he said, slipping away.

Miles couldn't seem to catch his breath. How could an ordinary thing that people do every day feel so… he didn't have a word for it, for the living, beating thing that had bloomed in his chest, unfurling like a flower when Gabriel kissed him.

His broken charm necklace was on the ground next to him. He swiped it up, tucking it safely into his pocket.

Gabriel returned with the iron box and Miles's backpack, stuffed full of supplies again. "What should we do with it?" he asked, gesturing to the box.

"It'll be fine now—Florence is gone. But to be safe, I'll cleanse it when I get home and reseal it in something smaller. Then you can have it back."

Florence is gone . The words sank in, and Miles's knees went weak again. They'd done it.

"What?" Gabriel asked.

"Florence… we tossed her back into whatever pit she crawled out of." The realization made Miles whoop, the sound echoing through the cemetery. "We kicked ass, right? I mean, it was a close call, but we pulled it off."

"Too close," Gabriel said. "And we still need to let your cousin check your injury. Don't think I've forgotten."

Resigned, Miles followed him out of the cemetery and past the mausoleum, starting their trek back to the car. He felt steadier, but Gabriel stayed close, watching him carefully like he could collapse at any second.

He wouldn't meet Miles's gaze, but Miles didn't mind. Gabriel didn't seem regretful or disgusted, just faintly embarrassed. Embarrassed, but maybe a little flustered, too.

Oh, God, Miles had managed to fluster Gabriel Hawthorne. He should put it on a T-shirt or his college application or—

"Stop grinning like that," Gabriel snapped.

A laugh bubbled out of Miles as they cut through the trees. "Nah." You kissed me . But also—"We really did it. You're not going to die."

"Don't be ridiculous. Everyone dies eventually."

"You're being a downer on purpose." He bumped Gabriel with his shoulder, wishing more than anything that he was brave enough to hug him. "C'mon, we did it . You're in the clear. Everyone said the future couldn't be changed, but we fucking did it. That deserves a celebration."

Gabriel peered over at him, a crooked smile finally tugging at his mouth. "We did quite well, didn't we?"

"Quite well ," Miles teased in a poshy voice. "More like amazing. Jesus, I've never been so happy for something to be over in my whole life. And we didn't even have to step foot in that creepy murder tomb."

"You're right." For some reason, that made Gabriel's face fall. "Perhaps we should be concerned that this wasn't anything like your premonition."

"What? Why? Listen, the premonition is probably what would've happened if we hadn't beat her tonight. You said she needed the spell ingredients before killing you, right? I bet they're all stored away in another hidden room at the old Hawthorne house and that's the place I've been seeing in my visions." It all made sense to Miles. "She'd possess you again, ride your body over there to get everything, put the spell together, then kill you as the final part. But we stopped it. The fact we never got close to seeing the premonition fulfilled is a good thing. That was the point. You can stop worrying."

Gabriel glanced behind them at the mausoleum. "There's a lot of unanswered questions still. I don't like it."

"You might have to make peace with that. Personally, I'd take being alive with questions over dead with answers."

"It's not over yet," he murmured. "I still have to find a way to remove the curse."

Not even that reminder was going to bring Miles's mood down right now.

"Hey, stop it. Tonight is for celebrating our win, not moping over the work left to do. You don't have a murderous ghost to worry about anymore—it can wait one night. The grimoire isn't going anywhere."

"I suppose you're right."

"I am right. We can start first thing tomorrow, okay?" Ugh, they had school in the morning. Today. Whenever.

"We?" Gabriel's tone was strange.

Hadn't Miles already made that clear?

"Yeah, we. Us. You and me. The dream team. I told you—I'm with you as far as this goes."

"I wasn't sure…" Gabriel shook his head. "With Florence stopped, your obligation to me is over. I don't expect anything else from you."

They were passing the Hawthorne mansion, the house shadowed and hungry, the moonlight making the glass windows gleam, rows of snarling teeth in the darkness.

"Well," Miles said lightly, "you're stuck with me. So, get ready for supervised grimoire reading sessions."

"Bold of you to assume I want your help."

"Bold of you to assume you could do this without me."

Gabriel huffed out a little laugh that nearly melted Miles on the spot. "I see you're feeling confident." He stumbled slightly over the uneven ground and his fingers brushed against Miles's.

Unable to help himself, Miles caught his hand, stopping Gabriel in place. He held him, savoring the contact and his startled look.

"I'm going to keep helping you," he said seriously, "because I want to. Because I can't stand the thought of you doing it alone. Because," he felt his cheeks redden and hoped Gabriel couldn't see, "I care about you and I want you to be okay. Got it?"

"Got it," he murmured, soft as a secret between the two of them.

"Good." He dropped Gabriel's hand so they could keep walking, proud of himself for managing to act so casual and chill—the exact opposite of what he was feeling.

He didn't know how he was going to work around his parents now, but that was a future-Miles problem.

He could make out the looming gate and beyond it, Charlee's parked car. He hadn't even checked to see what time it was or if she'd called. She was going to lose it for multiple reasons once he told her what happened and that—

"Miles?" Gabriel was watching him with an unreadable expression.

"Hmm?"

"I—I appreciate it. All of it. I don't know if I've said that yet."

"You could say it again to make sure," Miles teased, only because he had a feeling Gabriel was maxed out on his mushy, heartfelt moments for the night.

He knew Gabriel was scowling. He'd developed a sixth sense for his annoyance by now. But he didn't care—not when his entire body blazed like a supernova, ready to burst wide open with these ridiculous feelings swelling inside of him and outshine all other galaxies.

The gate squeaked again as Gabriel opened it for him, Charlee's relieved face illuminated by her phone in the driver's seat of her car. A second later, the engine started. She obviously wanted to get home.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then?" Miles asked. A bit of awkwardness and self-doubt trickled in, but he refused to acknowledge it. Not tonight.

Gabriel nodded, a quick jerk of his chin. "Tomorrow." It was a promise.

When he got into the passenger side of Charlee's car, he turned and found Gabriel still watching, a pale silhouette against the night and the stars that now seemed lackluster in comparison.