The scent of damp and upturned earth filled the morning.
I took a deep breath and plucked Fable’s arm off me, slipping out from under the covers.
The coffee table had been pushed to the bookcase, and all the girls were scattered across the living room rug, sleeping with limbs poking out from everywhere, a mountain of blankets and pillows and bodies. Black party cups lined the bookshelf, and the organ-heart-shaped liquor bottle sat empty on the floor next to a heap of brown hair.
I hadn’t been able to sleep, tossed and turned throughout the night.
Julian had been in the mirror.
Real had been shaped from an apple peel on the floor.
The ache in my chest from missing him would never go away.
Missing him was like missing every missed chance at anything. Standing right in front of me but so far away. I reached and reached, and he slipped and slipped like smoke, like mist. And there used to be a garden in my soul, filled with colors of crimson and midnight and pearl. But now all the flowers were dying.
And I missed him. That was it. I missed him.
The sunrise came as if it had missed the sky too. It settled above the ocean, splashing colors of its own garden across the horizon, gold and rose petals stretching outward and beyond—the soul garden of the morning.
I tiptoed to the kitchen as a song of light breaths and snores filled the house, the girls sleeping so peacefully.
There was a natural glow around the house as if it had been a while since it had embraced life and witnessed, for the first time, drunken laughter during a stormy night. Dust particles floated in the sun’s beams through the kitchen. Everything was bright and alive but me.
I put a pot of coffee on, needing to go to Julian, planning to go to Julian.
He wanted me to go to him, and I would.
I would go wherever it was he wanted.
The coffee gurgled behind me, filling the air with its awakening aroma as I looked out the window where a new day laid out before me, but not another day where I wouldn’t get to be with him. I was determined.
I took my coffee out back and sank in a rocking chair. Broken tree limbs and leaves and evidence of a storm covered the short distance between Gramps’ house and the edge of the cliff.
Gramps’ house.
But Gramps was no longer here. Who would take care of this property now? Did I have to leave, find a new place to go? Who would I even go to regarding these matters?
“Good morning,” Monday whispered, coming through the back door and interrupting my thoughts.
Black eye makeup smudged around her eyes, and her red hair was pushed and tangled to one side. She took it upon herself to sit in the chair beside me.
The small creak of the chair filled the awkward silence for a moment before her eager voice returned, “When you first got here, I told Kane and Maverick that you were going to be working at the funeral home with me. I was just excited to meet you … I didn’t expect them to use me to get to you.”
Her words called my attention, and I turned my head, looked at her. “How could they use you to get to me?”
Monday pulled her feet up on the base of the seat, pressed her knees to her chest. The air outside was brisk and comforting. I’d never noticed before how dark-green her eyes were. They weren’t bright like Zephyr’s or faint like Adora’s, but a deep, forest-green.
Then I noticed the way she clutched around the warm mug. I noticed the way her eyes cast downward. I noticed the short intake of breath…
“They said if I could convince you to join Sacred Sea, it would be my ticket in, too. But then I started to like you, Fallon. Like, we could really be friends, you know?” She shook her head. “I’ve been holding on to this guilt since we met. Like it was always standing in the way between us.”
Really be friends? Like the friends who jumped off a cliff to save one another? The kind who wouldn’t force the other into a coven when they didn’t want to be? The kind where we could tell each other anything, without judgment? I wonder what a real friend was like …
But then I thought of Julian. He had done all these things. My mind spiraled, and I began to question all the people in my life. Fable and Kioni, hell, Adora … Were they holding on to any guilt or had ulterior motives to be my friend?
“I just wanted to join so bad,” Monday continued, “finally be a part of something, be somewhere I belonged.” I remembered what she’d said about her family and how she felt so different from them. I, too, knew what rejection felt like. How it felt not to be accepted. “I just wanted to tell you the truth. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I at least wanted you to know the reasons, not that I’m justifying my actions.” She inhaled deeply and dropped her head back, then looked at me. “I wish we could just start over.”
I nodded, rocked in the chair, drank from the mug, then set my head back as well. “What’s the status with Sacred Sea then? Are you one of them now?”
“Not yet. I’m not finished with initiation, but after it’s done, I will be. But I promise, I’ll never push anything on you again,” she told me. “And if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure Kane got punished for what happened to Benny.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, surprised.
Monday nodded. “I haven’t seen Kane since that night, so who knows for sure. But every time he’s gone for this long, it’s always because he did something wrong. And if I’m right, it will be a while before you have to see him again. Mr. Pruitt handles family business in-house. He’s not easy on Kane.”
Monday and the rest of the girls gathered their things to leave after that. We all hugged and said our goodbyes. Kioni hung back for a moment to ask if I would be okay here all alone. I told her that being alone was all I’d ever known. I didn’t mean to say it in a way to receive pity or attention. But it was true.
I’d known aloneness, rather than loneliness, and, most recently, accepted it as I accepted myself. Here, in Weeping Hollow, I learned to love myself and found a home within my own bones, no matter what would become of me. And I accepted the permanent ache too, the one that was always there and only grew. Because it reminded me of all the times I’d been swallowed by a pair of silver eyes, and it punched me with a fist full of fortitude to never let go of Julian Jai Blackwell.
Tonight, I would go into the deep and dark woods for him, the Hollow Heathen—the one who everyone called a monster yet lived with a triple existence: the ruthless villain he made all believe he was, and what the town made him out to be. The gentle one no one else could see, a delicate being who wore his soul like skin and a halo around his edges, fiercely passionate, with a severe thirst for more of everything and an appetite for audacious love. Then the miserable creature when he was alone, retiring into himself, branded with guilt and shame and submitted to the darkness for solitude because he couldn’t bear to face the mere fact of solely existing.
I would go to him, and I would love him. All of him. Over and over … on repeat. Because I was certain all these things he was made of were the very parts missing in me.
“We made it through the storm, witches. It’s wicked Wednesday, and only three more days until Samhain. The rumors are true! I will be at the Pruitt Ball. If you can identify me, a surprise you will receive. This is Freddy in the Mournin’ with your Wednesday morning Hollow Headlines. Stay safe out there, witches, and remember, no one is safe after 3 a.m.”
Freddy’s announcement had come later in the morning. Almost as if there was a skip in the town’s step after Gramps died. Almost as if the entire world had been affected by the loss of him. It warmed my chest knowing the world noticed.
After finishing the crossword puzzle, I called Jonah from the house phone.
“You’re on bereavement,” he told me. “You can return after All Souls Day if you choose to stay in town.”
I did choose to stay. Weeping Hollow was where I belonged, where I’d always belonged.
The ghost of Casper’s pitter-patter followed behind me as I spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the Morgan property. Numerous times, I’d passed Gramps’ closed bedroom door, unable to bring myself back to the bed where I’d sat next to him in the mornings, me laughing and him mumbling insults and things I could hardly make out half the time.
I couldn’t confront the bedside where I’d spent many sleepless nights to watch him sleep, watch him catch his breath. It was the same place where I’d had to call Mina Mae or Dr. Morley because I didn’t think I was doing it right, or if he would make it through the night. I couldn’t confront the hats on the wall, or inhale his distinct scent that smelled like the last drop of aged-whiskey from the bottom of a barrel, or see the imprint of his head remaining on his pillow. Not yet.
I cracked his bedroom door open to see if missing Casper was trapped inside, but he wasn’t. Then I spent an hour making flyers with markers from the hutch in the hallway to pin around town.
By the time the sun was setting, I’d showered, dressed in my black bra, sheer white top, and leather pants, and slapped on heavy make-up to make me look normal and not a corpse, pulled on my oversized jean jacket and black boots.
I clutched my fingers around the urn hanging from my neck, lifted it to my lips, kissed the cold metal. “Wish me luck, Gramps.”
In the detached garage, I sat over my mother’s scooter that would not start. After every failed attempt, the nighttime wind howled, testing my determination. I wouldn’t let it stop me. Nothing could prevent me from entering the woods, from going to Julian.
I jumped off the scooter, closed the garage, and started the long walk.
From the sea to the forest, it was four miles under the milky moon and a dank blanket of rolling clouds.
Temperatures dropped into the thirties, and my nose had gone numb about a mile back. At about the halfway mark, cutting through Whister Park and crossing Archer Avenue, I realized I’d chosen the wrong shoes. Each blistering foot forward became a prayer to make it there before my feet fell off at my ankles. Every inhale formed icicles inside my lungs.
And upon every step, another echoed behind me.
I stopped, jerked my head around.
But nothing was there.
My steps quickened, and I continued forward, my senses alive now.
The click-clack of the copying steps that were one key off behind me quickened too.
I twisted my head back around, pushed my hair from my eyes.
In the night, a figure in a black robe emerged from the dark, erasing the space between us. A chilling breeze burned in my eyes, and my nerves gripped my spine.
I took off in a sprint with the outline of the woods in the distance, my heart rattling in my chest.
Julian! I wanted to scream, but fear stole my voice. I weaved between headstones as I flew through the cemetery. The loud cry of a raven pierced the air before taking flight, swooping over my head and disappearing behind me.
I dared not to look back, for it could slow me down. Leaves rustled with my stride, flying up and stirring boneyard dust.
They were right behind me. The black figure, the one who’d always been watching me. The real thing and not a ghost. Not a ghost, I thought. Whoever or whatever it was, was real, and it was chasing me.
I ran harder, my breath bottled and tossed to the side somewhere. Faster and faster, I ran until I reached the forest.
After a sharp right, I looked back, regretting it. Julian! I wanted to scream so he could hear me. Why couldn’t my lips move? Why wasn’t anything working? My heart pounded so fast and not at all, when I tripped over a root.
I fisted the ground and tried to gain traction with my boots, but the earth slid under me.
Whoever it was, was here.
I felt it. The tingle. The cold grip at the back of my neck.
It was … right … behind me …
I flipped over on my back to face whatever it was, crawling backward to put more distance between us.
Inside the robe was utter darkness.
I shook my head as they moved closer.
“Julian!” I screamed, then my back hit a tree. “JULIAN!”
“He can’t save you,” a sing-song voice said, and delicate and manicured hands rose from each side, pulled off the hood. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
Her face came into view. Her face. Her beautiful, flawless face and honey-dipped hair. Her eyes were like blue lightning—sharp and quick and sliced through me.
“Carrie,” I whispered, and her perfect lips smiled. “What are you doing?” I asked, and she tilted her head. “What do you want from me?”
Carrie Driscoll shook her head. “The time has finally come.”
“Time? What are you talking about?”
“Do you have any idea how long I have waited for this? The measures I’ve taken?”
“It was you,” I whispered. I cleared my voice, waiting for my thoughts to piece together. “You sent the letter to get me here. Why? Why did you want me here? What did I ever do to you?” I didn’t wait for her to respond and scanned the forest. “Julian!”
“He’s not coming, moon girl. The Heathen is under my control.”
“Julian’s under no one’s control,” I spat, screaming his name again until my throat turned raw.
She laughed a siren laugh, the kind men could fall for, drop to their knees for. The sound spiraled with the wind when Julian appeared from behind a tree, stepping forward. He was wearing jeans. His boots. His black coat. His black mask. His eyes were on her, not me.
He was looking to her, not me.
“Julian,” I shouted, jumping to my feet to run to him. Then his arm snapped up, and suddenly, a force shoved me backward and pinned me to a tree, knocking the air from my lungs. My body froze against the tree, all oxygen stuck somewhere inside me and not coming out.
My eyes ping-ponged back and forth between Carrie and Julian. I swallowed and managed to whisper, “Julian, what are you doing?”
He stepped beside Carrie, and I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t put the pieces together.
“Julian,” I cried, feeling the heaviness weighing upon my chest, his power pressing in on me from one side, the tree from the other. It felt like I was wedged between two brick walls.
My gaze darted from Carrie to Julian, my chest suffocating with pressure. I tried to push through it, fight against his power, but he was too strong. “Julian, she can’t control you.”
Julian tilted his head. His gaze was nothing more than cold current beneath long black lashes. My heart shuddered.
“Kill her,” Carrie ordered, and Julian’s eyes froze on me, unblinking as he drew closer and closer and closer …
The toe of his boots met mine, and I tried to shake my head, to move, to stop him, but then he gripped my throat. And it felt like a noose around my neck, my heart. She had complete control of him. Carrie Driscoll was controlling him. It all happened so fast, but I understood.
She had been controlling him this entire time.
“Kill me,” I told him, lifting my chin and looking him in the eyes. His hand tightened, and it felt like my windpipe was crushing, cutting off all air supply. Then he raised me higher, and my back grated against the tree, the bark cutting into my flesh.
My feet dangled. The adrenaline rushed in my pulse, causing it to pound against Julian’s fingers desperately. Time ticked by, counting down the seconds as my body locked in this death trap, paralyzed. There was no sound here, only my heartbeat thumping! inside my ears. My vision grew hazy, only two silver bullets aiming at me.
And I didn’t know how long we were frozen there, in our suspended time. I didn’t know, but I watched the change flicker in Julian’s eyes.
Two silver irises bounced between mine, confused.
His brows snapped together, and his grip loosened.
I gasped for oxygen as the tips of my toes found ground again. Something was changing inside Julian, but I grabbed his wrist to keep him here, to keep his hand on my neck, so as not to not sever our connection. I didn’t know if it would work, but I had to try.
“They’re all liars,” I whispered. “But we’re not. This isn’t a lie. This is real. We—” I pushed my hand through whatever magical force he had against me, grabbed the back of his neck, pulled his forehead to mine. Looked into his eyes. “We are real.”
Julian
Do not fall in love with the moon, they said.
I fell in love anyway, and they would all laugh. They could not see her beauty. No one would believe me if I said the moon breathed life into me, that it was here, inside her, where I found myself again. They wouldn’t be able to understand. And no one could ever love her as deeply as I did. No one else was made for it, and those who were like me weren’t brave enough. No ordinary being was created to fall in love with the moon, only that of the aberrant. The strange. They said you couldn’t know the moon, touch it, kiss it, make love to it. You could only watch from the dark trenches of the earth, admire it from afar.
Yet, still, I fell in love with the moon. And she, too, fell in love with me.
My thumb stroked Fallon’s delicate neck, feeling the frantic tapping of her pulse as reality set in.
The guilt climbed up my spine and squeezed my ribcage. My chest heaved, my blood turning black and having no place to go anymore because Fallon was here, refusing to let go of me.
She was like a whisper who almost slipped through my fingers. My head shook, realizing what had almost happened. What could’ve happened. What had been happening to me.
“Kill her!” Carrie ordered behind me.
I flinched. Confused but not. My thoughts plummeted as it made sense. She’d found a way to become the master of my shadow-blood, and the rage coiled inside me. She had been manipulating me this entire time, killing all these people. And for what?
I pulled away from Fallon, my hands shaking.
It was Carrie all along.
“Why?” I shouted, and I didn’t recognize my own voice. Fallon’s face fell, and she reached out for me, but I turned to face Carrie. “WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?” The burning filled my chest, which made it harder to breathe, to think. “Why did you use me? How?” The scream built up, so heavy and painful.
Carrie held up a hand, taking a step back. “This is your fault, Blackwell. I’m fixing your mistakes. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for you and the freak.”
“Fallon,” I screamed, “Her name is Fallon!” I charged forward. I felt someone yanking my coat from behind, but I didn’t stop until I had Carrie Driscoll in my hands.
I heard Fallon’s sweet voice, the cry as the girl—my girl—pushed me from behind, begging for me to let go. But I couldn’t stop. Something had taken over me at that moment. My darkness. One controlled by no one, only a passionate, wild thing coming from inside me.
A scream ripped through my throat, and the winds it caused carried Fallon a few yards away.
I held Carrie up under the night sky before I took off my mask. Then I was sucked into Carrie’s fears, transported through decades, consumed by a different time.
They said in the moments before death, you could watch your entire life as it happened before your eyes. And I watched Carrie’s.
Though it wasn’t Carrie’s soul I had gripped in my fist.
It was that of Clarice Danvers.