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Grandpa and Grandma were the ultimate boy and girl next door. They grew up together, fell in love, and never fell out of it. Nothing pulled them apart but death.
I was eight when my grandmother passed away. After surviving the loss of his son, Grandpa couldn’t bear losing her as well. The grief manifested in his body as paralysis, and for almost a year, he was unable to walk or talk. Doctors gave up on him, saying he didn’t want to be helped.
On Grandpa’s birthday, Mother threw a small party and invited his relatives and friends to cheer him up. Tara and I decided to write him a song, so we sneaked into his room, snooping around for inspiration.
"Unfair," I whined. "You’re better at both singing and playing. What am I supposed to do?"
"No one told you to skip the piano lessons," Tara replied. "And for the hundredth time, you can sing if you want."
"But I’ll sound bad."
"Who cares?" she asked bitterly. "We’re doing this to make Grandpa happy."
"Pfft." I blew through my scrunched-up, angry face and opened the drawer where Grandpa kept his CDs to browse them. "Lame. Lame. Lame...Oh."
"What?" Tara leaned closer to take a look.
"I have an idea." I showed her an old CD labeled ‘Charles and Sarah’s wedding.’
***
The guests gathered in the living room. Sitting in his wheelchair, Grandpa watched as Mother introduced us. "The girls wanted to show you how much they love you, Charles."
Tara and I eyed each other. What if Grandpa hates our song? What if it makes him sadder?
"Girls, you wrote this song all on your own?" aunt Cona asked in a proud tone.
"N-no, aunt Cona." I paused. "Grandma did."
As my eyes flitted between Mother and aunt Cona, I realized using my grandmother’s vows as our lyrics was inappropriate. But there was no going back. The confused audience awaited. So did Grandpa.
Tara’s fingers trembled as she brought them to the piano. Listening to her notes, my anxiety waned, and at her cue, I started to sing.
Remember the first time we met. I don’t
Cause you’ve always been here in my heart
Stuck in my head like a melody I never want to forget
You’re the mirror where I see myself as whole
Where I see the world as kind and true
And my life well-lived if shared with you
The music stopped, but the guests never applauded. Everyone dropped their gaze, and Tara’s face went red, but I didn’t care about any of that. Something happened to me while I sang those lyrics. Although I was too young to comprehend grandma’s feelings, they passed through me as if I were a channel, and it was her singing. That song was the very first spell I created, one that didn’t require a grimoire or a ritual, only compassion.
Pressing his hands on the armrests of his wheelchair, Grandpa pushed himself to standing. His legs shook. He almost fell back, but Mother rushed to help him. Everyone watched as he leaned on her and walked to the piano. For the first time in a year, he took me and Tara into his arms. He was healed, or maybe he was just loved. Perhaps the two words are synonyms.
***
When I was in high school, Grandpa had heart surgery and took a vacation from work. One day, I found him and Tara in the living room, kneeling on their exercise mats with their hips pushed back and their torsos between their thighs.
"What are you doing, Grandpa?" I cried out. "You shouldn’t be exhausting yourself."
Tara raised her head to see me. "It’s just yoga. It’ll help reduce his blood pressure."
"What are you, a doctor now?"
"Dr. Jensen said it’s fine. Stop overthinking everything."
"Don’t worry, sweetie, "Grandpa broke in. "I feel great."
"Stay out of this, Grandpa," I waved. "What do you mean I overthink everything? I bet if we google this posture, we’ll find it unsafe for him."
"Oh, Stiff Head." Tara came out of her pose to roll her eyes at me.
Grandpa stifled a laugh.
Since my mother’s death, Grandpa and Tara had been my only family. It was the three of us working together to build a loving home, the three of us against the world. Throughout the years, our roles shifted. Sometimes, Grandpa was the father who shared his experiences and guidance with us. Other times, we were the overprotective mothers fighting over him. But he knew that our hearts were in the right place and that we were trying to give back some of the love he offered us.
***
On my twenty-third birthday, my grandfather lay in the intensive care unit. The loud mechanical ventilator drew oxygen into his body, and the heart monitor captured his weak pulse.
Tara and I stood by his side, still dressed in our party outfits. Reaching for Grandpa’s hand, Tara crooned the song we once played for him. I was surprised she remembered it. With her other hand, she covered her nose. She always hated the smell of disinfectants. It brought her memories from the time our dad was hospitalized.
I made sure no one could hear us before I closed the curtains surrounding Grandpa’s bedspace.
"Keep an eye out while I cast a healing spell," I told Tara as I put my hand on Grandpa’s cold forehead.
"What do you think you’re doing?" she asked aggressively.
"I just told you." I looked over to see what was wrong.
"For the love of God." She threw her arms out. "Don’t mess with him."
"Mess with him?" I couldn’t believe her. "I’m trying to heal him."
"Don't you think the doctors know what they’re doing?"
"They do, and so do I," I asserted. "Tara, I’m having a crappy day here. Grandpa is in a coma. Vanna is missing, and a woman died on my watch. I don’t know what your problem is, but please, let me do my job."
Tara failed to contain her frustration. The moment I began to chant my spell, she pushed my hand away from Grandpa. "My problem is I want you to leave my grandfather alone."
"Your grandfather?" I yelled. "He’s my grandfather too. And I’m gonna do everything I can to save him, even if you disapprove."
***
At the door of the intensive care department, my sister and I parted. She went to check up on Jackson, who was also injured, and I joined Kirby, Ebba, and Doyle in the waiting area.
"I tried a locator spell, but it didn’t work," I told Kirby, who just nodded. Bruises covered his face. I had never seen him like that before. It seemed he had surrendered to despondency and silence.
"I don’t understand what happened," Doyle said. "Tara sent a message to Vanna, asking for help. Vanna arrived at the mansion and fought Zaros using the amulet, but then the two disappeared without a trace?"
"One moment, they are fighting. The next, they are gone," Ebba said. She pulled the amulet out of her purse and showed it to me. "Leaving this behind."
"It’s a loop," I explained. "When two witches of equal power fight using the same spells, they enter a karmic loop, and they can’t get out until there’s a winner."
"So she’s stuck with Zaros in an unending loop?" Kirby’s missing tooth showed when he spoke.
With a warm smile, I patted him on the back. "Vanna is strong. She can handle this." I knew he wouldn’t buy that, but what else could I have said?
"She’s my sister, Echo," Kirby cried out before starting to his feet. "I need some fresh air."
As he burst out of the room, Doyle followed him to make sure he was okay.
"I’ll go see how Tara is doing," Ebba said as she came to her feet and walked away, leaving me all alone.
I looked over to the glass wall. It was an hour before sunrise, and a soft, rosy glow glimmered in the sky. I prayed that by the time the sun came up, everything would go back to the way it was.
"The doctors said Mr. Knight is doing better," Heidi’s voice came from behind. All night, she had stayed with us, never went home to rest or to change out of her dress. "They’re hoping he’ll wake up in a few hours."
"He should’ve woken up when I did my healing spell," I said. "This Magic of Recreation thing never works in my favor."
Heidi didn’t say anything. We both understood magic couldn’t defy the rules of nature. If Grandpa was to die of natural causes, there was nothing to do about it.
"I had no idea this was going to happen," Heidi said.
"Seriously? What did you think would happen when you brought Zaros over?"
"He told me he had beef with the purple-haired guy. That’s all. I didn’t know he’d attack civilians."
"Kirby is my friend," I said with a stern face. "If anything happens to him, I’ll kill you."
Heidi swallowed, shaken, but not because of my threat. "Zaros saved my mother’s life," she admitted. "If I turn against him, he’ll kill her...All I can do is tell you where he is, and you go after him."
"Why should I trust you?"
"Who cares if you do?" Distress showed on her face. "I’ll just tell you what I know. Zaros is a guest of my great-uncle, Leonard Morton. He’s staying in his house in Witchfield, but you won’t be able to break in by yourself."
Leonard Morton was a man of authority and wealth. We had met at a party once, and I couldn't stand him. Despite his charm, I sensed he had a hidden agenda, and I hated that he shared the first name with my late father.
Rumors had it that Leonard Morton held suspicious rituals in his Witchfield house. Some claimed he sold drugs; others said he worshiped the devil. There was a devil there, all right—a devil called Zaros.
***
Doyle and Kirby were walking near the hospital when Kirby’s phone rang. "Vanna?" he cried out. "You’re okay?... Thank God, I was worried sick... You did? This is great news. I’ll be right there."
He hung up and turned to Doyle with exhilaration showing all over his face. "Vanna found her name, and Zaros is dead. Tell Echo I’m going to see her."
"Tha—" Doyle had no time to respond as Kirby sprang away, but he was glad to hear Vanna was all right.
"That’s great," Doyle murmured and took a deep breath. He turned around, heading back to the hospital, and looked up to enjoy the pink glow in the sky.
"Good evening," a female voice interrupted. From behind emerged a woman that Doyle immediately recognized. He pulled out his dagger and pointed it at her.
"I’m not here to fight." She raised her hands. "My name is Bailey Harlow, and on behalf of the Magic Board, I would like to invite you to our next assembly."
Doyle furrowed his eyebrows. "Why me?"
"You’re important to us, Mr. Miles," she said. "We are keen on building a relationship with you."
Mr. Miles? Doyle clenched his jaws. Before he said anything, he jolted. Every muscle in his body convulsed, and adrenaline flooded him. His teeth gritted with the sound of a taser stuck to his back. Someone had attacked him from behind.
Sometime later, Doyle woke up to the stink of wet carpet. He was lying in the trunk of a moving car with his wrists and ankles tied in chains. Every time the car swerved, he was tossed from side to side, and every time it passed over a bump, he was thrown up and down until his head hurt.
To set himself free, he needed his hands, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t break out of his chains.
"We are about to go on the ring road." Bailey’s voice came from the front of the car. It sounded like she was on the phone. "Uh. Don’t worry. He’s got enough tranquilizer to sedate an elephant. I’ll ring you when we get to Spiritsvale. Goodbye."
"Problem?" a man’s voice asked. Doyle assumed he was the one who tased him.
"No," she said. "Is this van following us?"
"What van?"
"How many vans can you see, nitwit? It’s the one right behind us. I’ve seen it parked in frunna the hospital."
"What do you want me to do, Ms. Harlow?" the man lowered his voice.
"Just stop the car," she ordered.
As the car came to a halt, Doyle’s body bounced in the trunk. Distant noises came from outside, a brief conversation that soon turned into a fight. Doyle listened as the two sides exchanged blows. There was a loud explosion followed by Bailey screaming.
Not long after, two people opened the trunk to see Doyle: a large man with a pierced nose and a woman with big, curly hair and a scar on her forehead.
***
By the time the sun came up, Ebba and I went home to shower and bring a change of clothes for Grandpa and Jackson, but before I did any of that, an idea came to mind. At my finger, I had a few of Zaros’s allies—the dark spirits trapped in my living room mirror. I couldn’t think of a better way to understand Zaros than questioning them.
"I call to you spirits of darkness," I chanted. "Obey the words of power."
"We’re listening," the spirits whispered as the mirror dissolved into a void.
"Tell me about Zaros. How can I defeat him?"
"We are not allowed to speak of this."
"Rabum." I zapped them with a green light that forced them to hiss and screech in pain. "How can I defeat Zaros?" I asked again, withholding my attack to give them a chance to talk.
"Stop it. Stop it," they begged. "This is not what you wish to know. You care not about Zaros nor how to fight him, but you wish to know who you ought to become to defeat him."
"Thanks for the psycho-analysis." I zapped. "Now, give me a straight answer? How can I defeat Zaros?"
"We cannot answer you," they wailed in pain. "Show you, we can. First, you should answer your phone."
"My pho—" The sound of the ringing startled me. I reached for the phone in my pocket. It was an unknown number.
"Hello...Yes, this is she...Is something wrong?...Oh my God."
The phone dropped to the floor before I did. "Grandpa." I clutched at the carpet beneath me. My heart throbbed, ready to burst, and suddenly, I fell into pieces.
