I loved her, and perhaps it was a kind of love that wasn’t normal. Perhaps love wasn’t supposed to move something like her, quiet and gentle. Or maybe it wasn’t supposed to move something like me, cruel and unusual. Ours was different—a strange love. A mixture of us. Quiet and cruel, hiding in the depths of the darkness before plunging a sharp blade into our hearts. The kind of love to be murdered by.
Thin slices of daylight shone between the wooden sheets of the barn. I lifted my head enough to see Phoenix, Zephyr, and Beck off to the side, their voices hushed. My skull pounded. I pinched my eyes closed, then squinted. The positioning of the sun told me it wasn’t noon yet. It was still the first day of Samhain.
“He’s awake,” Phoenix said. The three approached me. I tried to free myself from my restraints and froze when Phoenix squeezed my shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere.”
I tilted my head back and settled my eyes on Zephyr, who stood before me with his arms crossed over his chest. He dropped his gaze to the books stacked at my feet. “Found these in the cabin. I expected something like this from Nix, but not you.”
Phoenix grunted. My teeth ground together behind my mask, having everything and nothing to say.
Zephyr nodded. “What makes you think you are of a higher power? That you’re better than any of us? I’m confused, truly. You speak of loyalty, honesty, this so-called change within the coven, yet where is the loyalty?” Zeph took a step forward, gripped the wrist attached to the palm where my oath was scarred from my middle finger down to my wrist. Then he whispered in my ear through gnashed teeth, “I will get the answers out of you, even if it means toying with your little freak to do so.”
“You will not touch the girl,” Beck stated from behind. “Let’s wait until Clarence arrives.”
“This is pointless.” Phoenix kicked a crate, and it flew across the barn. He stormed toward me, slammed his forehead into mine. “Where are the missing pages?” he screamed, spit flying, our heads connected. Phoenix Wildes, the wildcard built from ashes of psychedelic gold. My eyes bounced between his, noticing the same desperation I’d come to know, and I hadn’t realized it until now. Perhaps only those who knew Love’s wrath could see it in others. Phoenix Wildes had something to lose too. “WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THEM?”
“Stand back, Wildes,” Clarence’s harsh yet steady voice filled the barn. Phoenix’s chest heaved, and after a moment, he obeyed, stepping back. “I can appreciate the audacity, Blackwell, but I will not stand for it. You and I both are the same as we don’t play games. I will not threaten you, coerce you, or beat it out of you. You have one chance to tell me what I need to know about breaking the curse before I take you to the Order. Pruitt is aware someone broke into the Sacred Sea chamber,” he looked around the room at the Heathens, “We have no choice but to turn him in.”
Beck cocked his head, surprised. “And his spirit element? You would sever it?”
“For the sake of the coven, yes. Pruitt wants the traitor, and we cannot admit Norse Woods’ involvement and risk all of you. We can say Julian acted alone, which isn’t far from the truth. We’ve survived this long without the Danvers bloodline. And, to be honest, I’m sick and tired of the Blackwells. They have been a disgrace to our coven. I’m certain we can survive without Spirit. At least their shadow-blood wouldn’t be able to take any more lives,” he spat.
Beck rose to his feet. “It was Carrie, and you know that. It was never Julian who did all those things. We found balance when we burned her body at The Wicker Man. You cannot condemn him for those acts any longer.”
“If you turn him over to the Order, we’ll never get the answers,” Phoenix added.
“My question is why Carrie would go through such lengths to use the Blackwells? Something tells me Julian knows more than he’s leading on and cannot be trusted.” Goody clasped his hands in front of him. “He has ten seconds to tell us what he knows. If he doesn’t speak now, I’m sure it is something he planned to take to his grave.” His formidable green eyes settled on mine. “Here’s your chance, Julian. If you give me information that could help, I can use it in your favor and lessen your charges. Your ten seconds start now.”
Tilting my head back, I closed my eyes.
“So … are you … the type … of runner … that doesn’t … talk?” Fallon called out from behind me as I leaped over the dip in the earth. I jerked behind me, making sure she was following me as we ran through the woods to my cabin.
“What do you want to talk about?” I called back with a smile, noticing her shortness of breath.
“For starters …” she appeared beside me, and we fell into a rhythm, “Free will versus fate.”
“Wow, right to the gut.”
I ducked under a branch, dipped around a bend as the debate sank in.
At the academy, we’d discussed free will. One professor had posed the question of whether our free will had been manipulated by cause and effect and previous occurrences entirely out of our control. Begging the question, had I ever decided anything about my current life or was it all forced upon me by years and years of circumstance and gradual guidance? And if so, if outside forces influenced my every moment and decision, then did I ever really have free will to begin with as our belief stated? Did any of us? Was this very moment the result of rebellion? If I’d never been turned into a cursed monster, would I still be here, running in the woods with Fallon?
“Free will is a delusion, from the moment we’re born.”
“How so?” Fallon was keeping up in her dress.
I ran faster. Challenged her. Pushed her limits.
“Our families, professors, the coven, the town, they all feed us bias information to lean one way instead of educating from all perspectives and allowing us to think for ourselves.” I looked over, making sure she was keeping up as I clutched the books under my arm. “Answer me this, was it your free will to come to Weeping Hollow?”
“Yes,” she answered in a keen cutting whisper.
I cocked my head to face her. “Really?” I asked, incredulous. “Stop lying to yourself. You were manipulated, no? Pressured? Be honest, if you never received the letter, you would have never come even after having knowledge of Weeping Hollow. We would have never met. The seed was planted into your mailbox. How is that free will when a circumstance came that was beyond your control?”
Fallon’s expression pinched together in thought while her body bobbed beside me, and she shrugged. “I … beg … to differ.”
I laughed. “How so?”
“Everyone told you to stay away, but you didn’t. You went … against … the Order. And you still came for me. How … is that … not free will?”
“That’s cute,” I told her. “You thinking I have any sort of power.”
Her eyes darted between me and the trees in our path. “What … are … you saying?”
“I’m saying, when it comes to you, I have no will. You have complete control over me. What’s cute is that you are oblivious to it.”
Silence fell so comfortably around us. Free will versus fate, my mind wondered, transporting back to long discussions with Beck around the fire.
Beck’s weakness was knowing what the future held, and it was a weakness because he was the only one to bear that burden. He’d told me once that fate could not be changed, but if I’d known of what lay ahead, the journey to the destination would be altered, and it would cause more harm than good. Beck only told me what I needed to know, when I needed to know it. His mind was in constant torment. Either way, fate may have turned me into this, but Fallon was my choice—my free will.
I refused to believe otherwise.
“So, fate,” Fallon said, interrupting my thoughts.
I cut around a tree. “A justification.”
“Julian,” she groaned, “You don’t believe in free will or fate?”
“Do you?” I asked, and her silence called upon my gaze. I cocked my head back over. “If you believe in fate, Fallon, you’re telling me that whatever may happen to you has been pre-determined and cannot be changed.”
“You’re confusing me.”
I wanted to stop and face her, but we were almost there, and my eagerness to show her why I found such freedom in running was steadfast. “I’m giving you arguments from both sides, which is what you deserve, isn’t it? What we all deserve? You have to decide what you believe in.”
“What do you believe in?”
“I’m still trying to figure that out.” I felt it coming, the strain in my legs, the ache in my chest. “How are you feeling over there?”
“Like … I’m … dying,” she pushed out.
I cut my eye to her, seeing her hanging on by a thread. “Good, because it’s coming.”
“What’s coming?”
“The living part.” I pushed past her, ran faster.
I ran until my legs almost buckled. I ran until my sight became hazy. I filled my lungs with as much air as they could handle as I ran past the pain, unafraid of what was on the other side. Fallon ran beside me—my girl, both stubborn and relentless. And after a few minutes, we broke through to our second wind. I knew she felt it too when a smile stretched across her face.
“This is what I believe in.”
Goody clapped his hands. “Times up, Blackwell.”
Barefoot and bare-chested and in tattered slacks, I was escorted the two miles from Goody Plantation and through the tunnels to the Chambers. Every step of the Heathens was in solidified cadence, the heartbeat of their march echoing in the damp and cold tunnel as we walked in a single file line.
I kept my eyes forward, thinking of the mistakes I’d made to get me here. Perhaps I could have been honest with Fallon from the beginning, told her I loved her, maybe realized I loved her sooner—figured this all out sooner.
Woke up sooner. Found myself sooner. I didn’t want to wait until my next lifetime. I wanted this one. We deserved this one too.
“We meet again, and so soon,” Augustine Pruitt stated, hands clasped firmly in front of him as Clarence Goody took his seat, joining Viola Cantini and Agatha at the table. “Clarence tells me you have acted alone in breaking into my chamber. Is this true?”
“I have—” I started to say when Clarence interrupted, “Yes, Norse Woods took no part in his schemes.”
I cut my eyes to him.
“Now, Goody, let the man speak for himself,” Viola insisted, gesturing for me to continue.
Clarence cleared his throat, and Agatha’s expression remained stoic, eyes unblinking. I turned my gaze back to Pruitt.
“Yes, I’ve acted alone to retrieve the books from a place they do not belong, as they belong in the bibliotheca. May I ask what you were doing with the Book of Danvers and Blackwell? My family’s book?” Pruitt’s eyes widened, and Viola looked to Pruitt. “What use is my family book to you, and why can’t I have access to it?”
“I was told it was only the Cantini book,” Viola asked Pruitt in a whisper.
“It was two Norse Woods’ books and yours,” I answered for him honestly.
“It doesn’t matter. You trespassed into our chamber,” Pruitt snapped.
“With the Morgan girl,” Clarence added, and my chest tightened.
I cocked my head behind me to see Zephyr, Phoenix, and Beck standing at the far wall, back’s straight and eyes cold.
“Yes, Fallon Grimaldi was with me,” I returned my gaze in front of me and swallowed the dryness in my throat. I didn’t want Fallon to be involved, and now she was. “I forced her to join me. I needed someone to take the blame. It seems my plan didn’t play out so well.”
“No, it certainly did not. The truth always comes to light,” Clarence stated.
I squared my shoulders. “Except one. I still don’t know what you wanted with the Book of Blackwell or the Book of Danvers.”
“Pruitt?” Viola asked him, the keeper of secrets, the demander of truths.
Augustine Pruitt sucked on his teeth before saying, “I didn’t take their damn books.”
“Someone did,” Agatha pointed out. “Someone who has access to your chamber, a house guest perhaps? Someone who has been staying with you?”
“Are you insinuating that Carrie Driscoll stole books from the bibliotheca?” Pruitt asked, but it came out as a statement. “Carrie is innocent—”
“We will discuss Carrie later,” Viola cut in, knowingly. “This meeting is about you, Julian Blackwell. Why would you risk your life over a few books?”
“Risk my life? With all due respect, don’t play down what is right in front of you. It’s obvious, isn’t it? After everything my coven has endured, the lives we lost, Beck’s mother, Phoenix’s parents, little Johnny, your wife, Clarence! We cannot go on like this! If only you understood what it has done to us, I have no doubt any one of you in Sacred Sea would have done the same,” I said, trying to manage a steady voice. “Don’t be so surprised at how far any of us are willing to go to save our coven.”
Clarence cast his eyes away.
“The facts remain,” Pruitt stated. “We can no longer trust a rogue and cursed Heathen. I gave you an opportunity, welcomed you into my home, and you have only shown your true character. Who knows what you would do next?”
“Norse Woods can’t trust him either,” Clarence muttered.
Viola nodded. “I agree.”
Agatha’s eyes widened, frightened with the direction of where my fate was heading. “But what if he can break the curse? What if he has found the answers? If we can break the curse, the town won’t live in fear of them any longer. No more lives would be endangered,” she turned to Mina Mae, who had been seated quietly in the corner as always, desperately searching for any last chance of hope to save me, “The flatlanders would be safe—”
“Agatha—” I tried to say, but she cut me off.
“Augustine, listen to me. Give us a little more time. Julian can do this. I know he can—”
“Agatha!” I ordered again, trying to stop her from making a fool of herself.
She ignored me, adamant. “Everyone has suffered, not just Norse Woods. Sacred Sea has lost people. Flatlanders have died. This curse has put a black cloud over our heads since the beginning! Please, we need more—”
“MOM!” I shouted, silencing her as a tear slipped from my eye.
And the room went silent as well. Glances exchanged, and I turned my head for a moment to contain myself. Even though I had all the answers to break the curse, I wouldn’t. She was only prolonging the inevitable, and I couldn’t stand to see her like this, filled with so much hope.
Pruitt cleared his throat, disrupting the awkward emotions filling the room. “If Julian breaks the curse, he is free, but we will not allow him to roam freely within the town.”
“No,” Agatha whispered in a shaky breath, her hand trembling as it reached for her chest, and Pruitt continued, “I’m sentencing Julian Jai Blackwell to The Wicker Man after seven days in the Wiccan Cell. If the curse is not broken within the next seven days, Julian Blackwell shall burn.”
“NO!” Agatha wailed out in a harrowing cry, one that pierced my chest when Pruitt slammed down his gavel.
As I walked out of the Chambers, the Heathen’s remained aloof, trained beasts to withhold objection before the Order.
I didn’t blame my brothers for turning me in. We were wretched Heathens, after all. And all wretched things had a creator. The curse was ours—the only real monster existing inside all of us. In their eyes, I’d burnt our last hope to ash. Our freedom now at rest, lying at the bottom of our fire pit we’d spent so many nights talking around, planning together.
What was worse, I felt no remorse for what I’d done.
I knew this day would come.
In the prison cell, there was no sun, no moon, no stars, no sky. There was no ocean, no woods. There was only me and my solitude. Dark, dreadful solitude. A waiting game.
For the first hour, I’d walked along the wall of iron-like bars separating me from a former life that seemed centuries away. The bars contained a magic I couldn’t get through. I knew because I’d tried, burned layers of my flesh in the process.
I’d spent my second hour finding sleep, but it would never come. There would be seven days of this. Sweet, deathlike solitude for seven days. My back hit the wall, and I slid to the ground…
Our chests heaved as we collapsed under the polar moon after our run, the cabin only feet away, the books we’d stolen at my side. For a while, we stared up at the stars inside the deep Norse Woods, the place where all the wild things were. I turned my head to Fallon, watching her chest rise and fall, her stomach dip, her lashes flutter, her mouth part.
“Do you think they know we’re looking at them?” she asked, keeping her gaze in the sky. “You know, the stars?”
My gaze flicked up at the same sky, then back down to her. Her mind held a universe of questions, most of which she already had the answers to. It was unnerving and nostalgic at once, the way her unceasing willfulness spoke to mine. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’d even question the significance of my black, rotten heart even after ripping it out of my chest and showing it to her, proving it was a useless thing.
“I think the stars are probably asking themselves the same question,” I told her, tapping my fingers along her wrist, feeling her pulse kick.
“What do you mean?”
“You believe you’re gazing at the stars, when, in all reality, the entire galaxy is gazing at you.” I squeezed her hand, unsure of why I couldn’t just say I loved her. Why I couldn’t tell her something so real and true. I’d never been good at anything, but I’d always been good with her in my own, strange way.
Fallon’s blush crawled from her cheeks down to her chest. It was a sight to see, especially knowing it was I who could inflict that kind of reaction. “How was that feeling, Fallon?”
“Liberating.” She rolled over and threw herself on top of me, covered me. “What was that?”
“A second wind. The reason why I run. One of the few moments we experience when our body rejects what our mind is thinking, proves it wrong. A phenomenon that doesn’t happen very often, and one that comes when you least expect it. It’s one of those unexplainable feelings that you have to experience for yourself. Proof that we are so much stronger than we believe.”