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The waitress slipped a coin into the old jukebox, and IZ’s Somewhere Over the Rainbow started to play. She glanced at the cornered seating booth and threw me a gentle smile.
I mouthed the words ‘thank you.’
"Have you been here before?" Doyle asked. He and I were sitting at a vintage ice cream place with black-and-white tiles and blue seats.
"Yeah," I gave a short answer, then changed the subject. "I can’t believe you never had ice cream as a kid. What a sad world you grew up in."
"I grew up in a castle." His cheeks dimpled with a confident smirk.
"Yes, but ice cream." I turned my palm up to stress the obviousness.
He chuckled.
The waitress approached and placed the order on our table, announcing, "One large vanilla sundae, dark chocolate sauce, and two spoons. Did I get it right?"
"Thank you, Martha," I said.
She gave me a sympathetic nod.
After she left, I apologized to Doyle. "I was going to order two, but Martha brought the usual. Will you be comfortable sharing?"
"I-it’s all right." He seemed a bit shy.
"Then dig in," I cheered, grabbing my spoon. As the hot chocolate sauce and ice cream melted in my mouth, I closed my eyes to savor the taste.
"C.K, T.B.K, E.B.K," Doyle uttered. "Echo Blackwood-Knight?"
I opened my eyes to see him reading off the table, on which I had carved my initials a long time before. "Grandpa used to bring us here since we were kids. We’d order the same sundae and play the same song on the jukebox."
Doyle thought for a moment before he responded. "Thank you for bringing me here."
I smiled.
When we reached for the ice cream bowl, our hands touched, giving me tingles. I had never invited anyone to that place—not even Joe—but I chose to share it with Doyle. I wanted him to see the part of me that clung to the memories of my family. It had to be him there with me, and it had to be on that day.
"I’m sorry Tara left," Doyle said. "No matter where she is, you’ll always be her sister." His ocean eyes bored into my heart.
Before he and I dropped by the ice cream place, we had seen Tara, Jackson, Mayan, and Lillian off at the airport. After Grandpa’s funeral, Jackson urged my sister to return to London. I overheard them fighting. "I can’t leave my sister now," Tara said. "Grandpa just died."
"And whose fault was that?" Jackson replied. "It’s your sister who brought this magic thing to our lives and put us all in danger." I didn’t hate Jackson for what he said. He wanted to protect his family. Yet it broke my heart that I was no longer a part of that.
"I hate how things ended between us," I told Doyle. "The rising day is coming up. What if I don’t get a chance to fix things with her?"
"You will," he said, not in a pep-talk tone but a sad, compassionate voice. "There is a loss in every war, Echo, but there are also survivors. Some of us will die on the rising day, but you’ll come out alive."
"How about you?" I asked, sensing the darkness behind his words. "Do you think you’ll survive?"
"I have survived before, but there is no way to tell what will happen this time."
I furrowed my brows, thinking of the possibility of losing him forever. "If this is the case, if there’s a chance you won’t make it, then you need to see your parents."
He flinched. "Where did this come from?"
"I have been thinking about it for a long time. Doyle, I don’t have the right to tell you this, but I don’t want you to regret it later."
"I can’t do this, Echo." He brought his hand to his forehead.
"Are you afraid they will hate you?" I asked.
"I’m not the son they wanted," he said it like a fact.
"That’s not true," I argued. "Your parents have been looking for you for the past twenty-five years. Your mother knows you’re alive, and she’s dying to meet you."
He waited for me to finish.
"You’re more like them than you know," I added. "When Kirby and I visited their house, Rose showed us around Zachery’s library. She said it’s his favorite place in the world. And Rose, she’s a vet. She loves dogs just like you do."
Doyle looked away. For a second, I saw agitation in his eyes, but it was momentary defensiveness. I found myself brushing my fingers along the hair on his forearm. The tingles returned, and I hoped that he, too, could feel them.
Slowly, his expression softened. He took my hand in his, and we sat quietly, our fingers interlocked, and our eyes fixated on one another.
***
Kirby rang the doorbell. Doyle blew out a breath. His posture stiffened, though he tried not to show his angst. Clearing my throat, I fought off the urge to get closer to him, to comfort him.
"Roy, Nora. What a surprise!" Zachery welcomed us at the door. Glancing at Doyle, he adjusted his glasses. Confusion showed on his face.
"This is our friend Doyle," Kirby said.
"Welcome to Shady Mews." Zachery grinned.
"Who is it, honey?" Rose came to the door. Once her eyes spotted Doyle, she froze, and a tentative smile spread across her face.
We arranged ourselves on the Miles’ couch. Rose sat on the armchair next to her husband, her head and body pointed towards her son.
Kirby and I shared an awkward look. How could we tell a loving father that his long-lost son was sitting in his living room? I glanced at Doyle, who shook his head. He wasn’t ready to talk, so it was up to me to explain. "Zachery, there’s no easy way to say this."
"What is it?" he asked.
The ceiling fan rotated, sweeping the curtains and cooling my anxiety. I gave myself a moment to organize my thoughts. "Last time I was here, I had the privilege of listening to your story. You told me about your son. I can't imagine what you've been through."
"What is going on?" Zachery turned to his wife, whose face had gone distraught. She wrung her hands, adding to his confusion.
"It’s him," she whispered in a tearful voice. Zachery’s eyebrows went up when she pointed at Doyle.
"Mr. Miles," Kirby said with an assuring nod. Zachery’s jaw dropped, along with his ability to respond. Next to me, Doyle panicked. As our shoulders touched, I could feel him shuddering, but I didn’t know how to comfort him.
Zachery pushed himself up. He took a faltering step towards Doyle, who came to his feet. The two men gaped at each other, their eyes watering and knees quivering.
"You’re..." Zachery swallowed, took off his glasses, then put them on again. "You’re my son?"
He glanced one more time at his wife before he seized Doyle in his arms. Rose jumped off her seat and joined the embrace, letting her silent cries turn to wail. Doyle’s hands hung loose.
***
"You’re so handsome, aren’t you?" Rose regarded Doyle like he was the only person in the world. After a long talk and a lot of tears, the loving parents celebrated the return of their son. We sat around the dinner table, on which Rose placed all types of delicious foods—meat, casseroles, and a nutty and sweet pecan pie.
"You have your mother’s eyes," Zachery spoke between the bites. "I remember looking at those eyes when you were a child."
Doyle gave a slight nod. Unable to keep myself from worrying, I tapped on his arm and whispered, "You okay?"
Tilting his head, he gave me a soft smile before taking my hand into his. I didn’t know what that meant for us. We never admitted how close we had become, but at the time, it didn’t matter.
"So, you’re Echo, not Nora." Rose’s gaze swiveled over to us and then to Kirby, who gave off casual vibes. "And your husband is Kirby."
"What? No." I pulled my hand away from Doyle. "He’s Kirby, but he’s not my husband."
"You wish," Kirby mumbled while chewing a piece of meat. Rose’s knowing smile made me blush.
***
Later that day, when I went home, an unexpected guest was waiting. "Mrs. Harlow, I can’t deny my surprise to see you." I seated myself at the large antique desk and slid my hand along its smooth surface. It had been a while since I stepped a foot in Grandpa’s home office, but when Audrey Harlow came by, I invited her in for a formal meeting.
"I heard about your grandfather," Audrey said. She straightened her back and spread a napkin on her lap before reaching for her cup of tea. "My condolences for your loss."
"Thank you." It felt strange to sit in Grandpa’s chair. I could almost smell his woody cologne and hear the classical music he listened to while working.
Audrey took a sip of her tea, then lowered the cup to the saucer. "I would also like to apologize for sending Bailey after the vessel," she said. "I never meant to harm your friend. On the contrary, I planned on transferring him to one of our bunkers where he would be safe until the eclipse is over."
"You wanted to hide Doyle?"
She nodded. "If the vessel disappears, Jivar cannot do his ritual. Ergo, the world is saved."
I let out a short laugh. "Things can’t be that simple."
"Why not?" she asked. "Let me explain how simple things are, Ms. Blackwood. Your friend is an Etlu, a warrior immune to magic. In the old times, warriors were witch hunters. They came to existence to rid the world of the dark arts. But throughout generations, the Etlu gene was lost, and the number of warriors dwindled to a handful."
"Are you saying there are others like Doyle?"
"Most certainly, yes," she affirmed. "Fortunately, only your friend meets the condition of Jivar’s vessel. He was born on the day of an eclipse, in the right location. The chance of this happening is once every five hundred years. So if you let me hide your friend, Jivar will have to wait for half a century until a new vessel is born."
Is she offering me a way out? I was stunned. “Just hide Doyle,” could it be so simple? I tried to tap into my grandfather’s wisdom, thinking of all the times we sat at that desk and discussed law cases—crimes, evidence, and motives.
"Mrs. Harlow, what do you think Jivar wants?"
"Excuse me?"
"What is his motive? You assume all Jivar wants is to be free from his prison, to walk on Earth, feed on souls, and perhaps take his revenge."
"Sounds about right."
"But Jivar is not a prisoner. Neither is he hungry for souls nor does he care about revenge... Jivar is void of all emotions and needs. So why do you think he’s doing what he’s doing?"
She shrugged and leaned back in her seat. "You tell me."
"Because it’s painful," I said. "Jivar may be soulless, but he’s not impassable. He’s living with a hole in his heart, and more than anything, he wants this hole gone. Until he gets rid of it, he’ll destroy everything in his way. With or without Doyle, he’ll unleash hell on Earth."
"You speak with confidence."
"I’ve done my homework," I spoke with confidence. "Mrs. Harlow, I assume you know the rising ritual is in four days, on the Lone Mountain. Jivar has prepared a huge army, which means the citizens of Shady Mews will be in danger."
"I’m aware." She took another sip of her tea.
"Here’s my proposal. Allow some of your witches to join my forces and help evacuate Shady Mews."
"Why would I do that?" Audrey lifted her chin. "My job is to protect the witches of the board, not send them to war. If things are as bad as you’re describing, we’re better off in hiding."
"I can’t believe this," I shouted. "You have enough power to protect people, but you choose to hide? Aren’t you the guardians, leaders, and heal—"
"We choose to do things our way." Audrey put the cup down and removed the napkin. Leaning on her cane, she rose from her seat. "Thank you for meeting me, Ms. Blackwood. I wish you luck in whatever you’re planning to do."
***
Meanwhile, Kirby rummaged through the fridge, cheering, "Time for dinner."
"Didn’t you have dinner at Shady Mews?" Ebba asked.
"What’s your point?" He shot her a threatening glare.
"V-vanna said you get s-stomach aches." Ebba lowered her gaze and wrapped her hands behind her back.
Doyle watched the two. He had recently started to understand Kirby’s humor, but he saw why Ebba would have a difficult time adjusting. Still, Doyle had more concerns at the moment. "Isn’t it strange that Audrey Harlow is here for Echo? Should I go make sure she’s all right?"
"Oh, young love," Kirby sighed, walking towards the stove with a bowl of eggs and a carton of milk.
"Love?" Doyle felt flustered. "What do you mean?" He dug his hands in his pockets.
Kirby winked. "You and Echo, flirting, holding hands under the table."
"What are you talking about?" Ebba broke in.
"Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. These two are clearly in love."
Doyle cleared his throat. "Nothing is going on between Echo and I."
"Hopefully not," Ebba grumbled, sounding like Doyle was bad news.
There was a moment of awkward silence, which Doyle broke by asking, "Do you have a problem with me, Ebba?"
"I..." Her expression grew pinched. "I want you to stay away from Echo."
"What? Why?" Kirby turned to Ebba with his full attention, and Doyle waited for her to speak.
Ebba crossed and uncrossed her arms, seemingly hesitant. "Y-you may think you’re a good man, Doyle, but I saw your bad side. You were there when the Katarus killed Pa. You took me to Jivaros."
"Things are different now—" Kirby said.
"People don’t change, Kirby," Ebba asserted. "He is what he is. A man of war, a murderer. Sooner or later, he’ll hurt Echo."
"I would never hurt Echo," Doyle said, without trying to make excuses for the past. He understood Ebba had her reasons to hate him.
"You thought you’d never hurt Viessa, didn’t you?" Ebba’s tone, just like her words, was vengeful.
"Ebba!" Kirby yelled.
"I’m saying this because I care about Echo," she said.
"So does Doyle." Kirby ended the conversation.
Doyle clenched his jaw. Ebba’s words hit him like a slam, confirming every horrible thing he believed about himself. What if she was right? Was he fooling himself, thinking he had changed? Would he end up hurting Echo as well? With that much blood on his hands, did he deserve to love or be loved?
***
"Good grief. These Magic Board people are good for nothing." I charged into the living room to find Vanna working on my laptop.
"Your mother despised the board," she said.
"She had a point." I sagged into the couch next to her. "All they do is kidnap my friends and come up with nonsense ideas to stop the rising."
"Hmm. Speaking of the rising. I have tracked the usage of the name Mitu Parim on the Magic Web. Apparently, the plant was last seen twenty-six years ago."
I leaned in to read off the screen. "What’s Ud-r-uo-nia?"
"Udruonia." Vanna pronounced it: ‘Adrioniah.’ "It’s a small country in the Caribbean. It’s not in most maps."
"They had the Mitu Parim?" I asked.
"Yes, but it was a long time ago. I think this is a dead end."
"Ugh." I let my head hang back.
The doorbell rang.
I headed outside with no expectations for whom I would find at the door. I never thought it’d be Joe, standing on my front porch in his sweatpants and running shoes. His breath was shallow, and his forehead glistened with sweat.
"I’m an idiot," he said. "I’m an idiot for letting you go, Echo. Since Mr. Knight’s funeral, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. I love you, and I want to be here for you, not just as a friend."
My mouth opened. What’s happening here? I felt the need to grab onto something, so I clutched the doorknob. "Joe, why don’t you come in?" I said, hoping the distance to the living room was enough time for me to think this over.
"Sure." His face gleamed with hope.
As I escorted him into the living room, I spotted Doyle, standing on the stairs, hurt showing on his face.
***
Vanna left the room to give us some privacy. Given how shaky Joe seemed, I tried to lighten the mood. "Have you been running?"
"I don’t know what has gotten into me," he said. "One minute, I’m out jogging. The next, I’m at your door."
We shared a smile.
"Echo, I want to go back to the way things were. Will you take me back?"
How was I supposed to answer that? Whenever Joe and I were together, I ended up hurting him somehow. I didn’t want to break his heart again, but it was unfair to tell him anything other than the truth.
"You mean a lot to me, Joe."
He winced. "I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming."
"But I’m in love with someone else."
Joe’s face lost its color, overwhelmed with shock, embarrassment, and a bit of despair. "You’re in love?" He tried to sound sarcastic but failed to hide his frustration. I regretted my choice of words.
"This is the first time I hear you say the word, and it’s for someone else," he said. "I did my best to make you happy, Echo. Why wasn’t I enough?"
"You were." My eyes watered. "Joe, you’re everything I thought I needed."
"But it turns out you need someone else." He seemed torn between the need to let out his anger and that to understand. "A bad boy with a motorcycle?"
"A bookworm with a confusing past," I said with a shrug.
He snickered. Looking away, he pushed himself to stand. "I guess there’s no need for me to stay now."
"I wish my answer were different," I said sincerely.
"Me too." He turned to see me.
"Will you be okay?" I asked.
He nodded, pursing his lips.
I used to believe soulmates complete each other like yin and yang. For years, I waited for my other half to show, not to save me, but to give me the courage to save myself—to live, love, and be happy.
After everything, I realized both yin and yang had been in me all along. Because I refused to see them, I lived my life with half a heart, unable to love Joe or anyone else.
Things are different now. I put my hand on my heart. Now that I found my harmony, I’m free.
***
As I saw Joe off at the door, Vanna and Doyle passed right by me. "Where are you two going?"
"Grocery store," Vanna said. "Do you need anything?"
"Thanks, but I wanted to talk to Doyle."
"Maybe later," he said without looking at me.
"Wait." I reached my hand to grab his, but he cringed at my touch.
"We’ll talk later, Echo," he said before scurrying away, giving me no chance to explain.
Frustrated, I went to see Kirby, who stood by the stove, melting the butter for his famous omelet. I stormed in, grabbed the last cinnamon cookie in the jar, and shoved it down my throat.
"What happened?" he asked. It wasn’t like me to swallow my food in whole.
"Doyle heard Joe asking me to get back together, and now he’s not talking to me."
Kirby said nothing. The eggs sizzled in the pan as he cracked them open. "Ebba, can you get me the cheese?"
"Y-yeah." She hurried to the fridge.
"What do you two know?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Did Doyle say anything?"
Kirby stirred.
"Why isn’t anyone answering me?"
"I-I..." Ebba uttered as she closed the fridge. "I told Doyle to stay away from you, or he’ll hurt you like he hurt Viessa."
"You said what?" I cried out. "Ebba, who gave you the right?"
"I w-was worried about you."
"You overstepped. I am an adult. Only I decide what’s good for me."
"I d-didn’t want you to go through what I w-went through." Ebba wrapped her hands together.
I crossed my arms. "Maybe you’re confusing Doyle with someone else."
"Please." She bit her lip. "Listen to me. I’m older than you."
"You’re twenty-five," I yelled. "Time-traveling and skipping a millennium doesn’t give you the wisdom of aging."
We paused as I thought about my own words, and a realization hit me. "How didn’t I think of this before?" I smacked my forehead. In front of me was a witch who mastered the Magic of Time. If she agreed to travel twenty-six years back, she could get the Mitu Parim before it went extinct.
I explained my idea, saying the amulet was more than enough to accomplish this mission. While Kirby was thrilled, Ebba responded bitterly, "I can’t do it."
"You’re the only one who can."
"You promised not to ask me to use magic again."
"The entire world is in danger, Ebba," I said desperately. "Isn’t this what you want? To end Jivar and save the world?"
"All I want is a normal life."
"None of us have a normal life." I lost my temper.
"I did." Ebba teared up. "I was happy living on the boat with Pa, until Doyle brought the Katarus—"
"Good grief." I rolled my eyes. "You enjoy playing victim, don’t you?"
"Echo." Kirby tried to stop me.
"Admit it, Ebba. You like that everything was taken from you, so now you can sit here and feel sorry for yourself instead of fighting. It’s just like..."
"Just like what?" she cried out.
"Just like what you’ve always done," I replied. "You were the most powerful witch in the oasis, yet you allowed your husband to abuse you."
"Echo," Kirby shouted.
"You allowed him to take your daughter away and to throw you in the desert," I went on. "It wasn’t that you were helpless or naïve. You were just too afraid to claim your power. To finally rebel, you had to be pushed to rock bottom."
"That’s enough, Echo." Kirby pulled me by the shoulder.
"Y-you have no idea what you’re talking about," Ebba’s words rasped in her throat. Despite the sharp, unforgiving look in her eyes, she couldn’t stop the tears coursing down her cheeks.
