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We ran to the garage when we heard a rumbling sound. Doyle was lying on the ground, with no signs of Ebba, and a strange stink of garbage hung in the air.
"What happened? Where’s Ebba?" I asked.
Doyle pushed himself to sit up.
We moved to the living room, and Doyle told us his story. The water gurgled as he poured some for himself, and after he swallowed, he let out a deep breath. "When the portal opened, I jumped, and Ebba stayed."
"I can’t believe this," I said. "Viessa and Ebba? Should we look for them? Do I try a locator spell?"
"Locator spells don’t work on Ebba," he reminded me. "She has protection."
"I just want to make sure they’re all right. I’m also worried about other changes in time. A slight change can ripple on everything. The butterfly effect. What if everyone has magic now? What if the president is a Gollum? Do Gollums even exist?" The shock had caused me to ramble.
"Echo, breathe." Kirby patted me on the head. "You’re getting so worked up that smoke is coming out of your ears."
"What?" I smacked my hands to my ears. It took me a moment to realize he was joking, so he chuckled and gave me his warm smile.
"Am I the only one who doesn’t consent to what happened?" Vanna broke in. "I can’t believe how irresponsible you and Ebba were, Doyle. To save one girl, you changed the course of fate and interfered with people’s lives."
"We tried to do the right thing," Doyle replied in defense.
"You acted out of self-interest. You wanted to redeem yourself at the cost of other people’s futures."
"There’s no point in throwing blame, Vanna," I said. "It’s not like we can change the past... again. Let’s just hope Ebba and Viessa are safe and move on with our plan."
"I agree with Echo." Kirby raised his hand.
Vanna kept her glassy eyes on Doyle, who seemed too uncomfortable to stay still. "I think I need a walk." He rose from his seat.
"Can I come with you?" I asked, worried he’d hurt himself. Still, he turned down my offer and walked away.
***
Doyle plodded down the street. His head swayed, weighed down by his contradicting feelings. How could it be that every time he tried to do the right thing, he ended up causing more damage? Was it fair for him to change the fate of others and get away scot-free?
"Tainted," he muttered. "I’m tainted." His thoughts trailed into an ugly place he yearned to escape. Many bad things he had done, grisly things, but nothing tormented him as his guilt towards Viessa. It was his biggest sin, his disgrace. He couldn’t give up on his chance of redemption.
A glimpse of a familiar face snapped him back to the present moment. A dark-haired woman ambled along the street with one arm crossed over the other. She wore a plaid skirt and green sweater, and her crossbody bag draped over her shoulder.
Mid-stride, she stopped to check her small notebook, adjusting it under a streak of sunlight to read. "Is this a seven or a four?" she murmured loud enough for Doyle to hear.
"Viessa?" Doyle’s face lit up.
"Don’t hurt me!" She dropped the notebook and took a defensive pose. "Take my money, my earrings too, although I’ll miss them. My mom gave them to me—"
"Calm down. Calm down." He waved his hands. "I didn't mean to startle you." He leaned down and grabbed the notebook for her. "I want to help."
Viessa studied him with her eyes. "How do you know my name?"
"It’s a long story," he said. "Tell me, are you searching for something?"
She took a moment to think. With her hand, she covered her notes, except for the number she misread. "Is this a seven or a four?"
"Uh." Doyle squinted as he read. "Terrible handwriting, but it’s a seven, I suppose."
"Thank you," she said and put her notebook away.
Slipping her hand into her bag, she pulled out a small capsule that she tossed up, and...boom! It exploded, fogging up the air.
"What the—" Doyle coughed. His vision was impaired, and a strange taste of sand scratched his throat.
"Please, don’t chase me," Viessa yelled as she ran away.
***
I was reading in my lair when Tara came with confusing news. “There’s someone here to see you. She says her name is Viessa Blackwood?"
"What?" I shot up in my seat.
"I thought Mom didn’t have any family," she said. "Is she related to us somehow?"
"I’m not sure." I put the book down and hastened up the stairs and to the living room, where I found Viessa hiding behind Heidi’s back. "Don’t hurt me," she cried out at Doyle, who seemed flustered.
"I won’t hurt you, Viessa."
"Echo, take this person off me," yelled Heidi.
"You’re Echo?" Viessa asked, looking at me. Suddenly, she thrust Heidi off and jumped into my arms. "Help. That man is following me."
"Ah." I wasn’t sure how to react. "Don-don’t worry. Doyle is a friend."
"He is?" She gazed at me with her wide, innocent eyes.
I nodded, so Viessa let go of me and allowed her shoulders to relax.
"Can you give us a minute?" I asked Heidi, who threw me a ‘whatever’ gesture. On her way out, she winked at Doyle and slid her hands along her dress flirtatiously.
"We need a minute today." I grabbed Heidi by the hand and motioned her out of the room before shutting the door.
After we sat down, Viessa opened her bag to grab the amulet. "Mom sent me to give you this. She thought I couldn’t take the bus to the city, but I told her to trust me, and here I am. She’ll be so proud." She grinned widely.
"I’m sure she will." I took the amulet from her. The moment I touched it, I sensed it had run out of magic.
"For some reason, it stopped working a few years after Mom got it," Viessa said. "It’s not magic anymore."
I gave this a moment of thought. This amulet is a one-of-a-kind magical artifact that can’t be replicated. There can’t be two working amulets, and since my mother had the original one, this one is a fake in the new timeline. And since Viessa never worked for Jivar, he must have given the working amulet to Zaros. But Zaros is dead. Does this mean Jivar has the amulet now?
"Viessa, where have you been all these years?" Doyle asked. "Where did you come from?"
"I live on the West Coast," she cheered. "My mom and I own a boat rental business. Fishing boats, speed boats, canoes—we have them all."
Doyle’s dimples showed when he smiled, such a genuine smile that irritated me. Are they staring at each other? Why are they staring at each other? Get a grip, Echo.
"Hey, Viessa." I interrupted. "Can you call your mother for me?"
"Sure." She reached for her phone and dialed.
"Hi, Mom. Yeah, yeah, I’m safe. The bus ride was fine. I’m at Echo’s house now. She wants to speak to you."
Viessa handed me the phone. I hesitated before I said the first words. From my perspective, Ebba had been gone for a few hours, but to her, it had been twenty-six years. How could I break the ice after all that time?
"Hello, Grandma," I uttered, leaving the room to give myself some privacy.
A giggle came from the other side. "Hello, granddaughter."
Ebba and I talked for a while, and she told me about her life with Viessa. After leaving the hospital, they moved to Oracles Island and settled on the West Coast, where Viessa received proper medical treatment. Ebba sold the gold bar she had and used the money to buy a house and start a business.
Although Viessa wasn’t a witch, she inherited a weak magic gene from her biological father, so she was able to make potions. She had some experience with herbs from working at the farm, and Ebba added to it by teaching her all she knew.
Ebba and Viessa, I would’ve never foreseen those two together, but now it made perfect sense. A mother without a daughter and a daughter without a mother—fate unfolded itself in the most surprising ways.
"I had a good life, Echo," Ebba told me over the phone.
Tears of joy prickled my eyes.
"You have my daughter now. She’ll help you in your fight. After you win, you must come to the West Coast, and we’ll take a boat ride together. Promise me, Echo."
"I promise," I said.
When I returned to the living room, I found Doyle, Kirby, and Vanna listening to Viessa as she explained how she fought off Doyle in the street. "To overcome potency decay, I compress my potions into these." She showed them small colored capsules, similar to medicine.
"That’s so cool," Kirby said.
"And fun, like a game." She blushed when Doyle smiled at her.
"I think we can make use of this," he said. "On the rising day, there will be an army of beasts. If I tell you what those beasts are and point out their weaknesses, can you create potion capsules to kill them?"
"I can if you can." Viessa winked playfully. A wave of jealousy swept over me as I watched her laughing and joking with him. I felt like an idiot, trying to compete with the woman he loved. I thought I was better than this.
***
I rested my hands on the railing and inhaled the pleasant air of the spring. Ever since Grandpa died, the roof had been my secret hideout. It was nice having a place no one else knew about, that was, until Kirby barged in, asking, "What are you doing here?"
"God!" I clasped my hand to my chest. "You startled me."
"Did something explode?" he asked, referring to the burned clay orbs scattered around the floor.
"I was trying to invent a Magic Catcher," I said.
"A what?"
"Never mind." I grinned.
"And what happened to that?" He pointed at the remains of a broken chair.
"A failed attempt to levitate." I covered my face in embarrassment.
"When do you find the time for these things?" he asked. "We are together almost every minute of every day. I admire your dedication, Echo, but I’m worried you’re overworking yourself."
"What else can I do?" I shrugged. "My dedication is all I have." That came out more sarcastically than I intended.
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
I gritted my teeth, hoping to hold back for longer. Keep it together, Echo. Don’t be pathetic.
"Echo?" Kirby looked at me with concern. I remembered the words he once said to me. "I want you to deal with your emotions, Echo. You obsess about what to do and suppress all the feelings that truly matter." Not only was I terrible at confronting my feelings, but I let them out in the most sabotaging ways—attacking Zaros in the cave, murdering Leonard Morton and his cult, lashing out at Ebba. I was a walking time bomb that no one could stop.
"I can’t take this anymore," I cried out, plopping down on the ground and pulling my knees to my chest.
"What happened?" Kirby sat down and patted me on the back.
"Everything is out of control," I cried. Stop it, Echo. No one likes a self-pity party, but Kirby isn’t just anyone, is he?
"I’m supposed to be the chosen witch, but I dragged you all into war. Grandpa was killed. Doyle and Ebba traveled through time. Viessa is good now, and she has her potions. Vanna found her name. And all I do is watch you guys put your lives in danger. I feel like...I feel like I bring pain to people who care about me."
More than anything, I hated to be vulnerable. It took me a lot of courage to open up and say those things, so I was surprised by Kirby’s stern reaction. "I love you, Echo, but this is all nonsense."
"What?" I went blank.
"You like comic books, don’t you?" he asked. "Iron Man has the Avengers. Superman has the Justice League. No one is meant to fight alone... The idea of a chosen one and a hero who saves the day is absurd. The world doesn’t need a hero. It needs dedicated people willing to share their powers to make things better for everyone else. Chosen or not, you’re just a girl. A powerful, courageous girl, but still one girl. You need your army."
"But—"
"And you’re not watching us while we put our lives in danger. You’re on the front line. You’re our leader, and your job is to tell us what to do and when to do it. Use our powers in the most creative ways, and let’s fight that Jivar bastard together."
"But." I sniffled. "What if you get hurt?"
"I can’t speak for the others, but I’ll gladly die saving the world by your side, Echo." He grinned. "It’s not because I’m your spirit guide but because I want to be useful. I want my life to mean something, and I trust you, as my leader, to put me in the right direction and give me the chance to fight for what I believe in. You’ve always pushed through self-doubt, Echo. Keep doing that."
I rested my head on his shoulder. A gush of air swept my hair at my face, and the warm sunlight calmed my agitation. "What would I do without you, Kirby?" I asked in a teary voice. "Before I met you, my best friend was my car."
"Who are you kidding, Echo? That car was your only friend."
I tittered. "You’re the one to speak. Vanna told me about Aroob, your robot toy."
"Oh. Did she show you my poetry too?"
"Your what?" I pulled away, and my mouth slacked open.
"Never mind." Whistling, he looked away.
I cracked up, laughing while also crying, and quickly, he was caught in the laughter.
***
The sun sank, leaving behind a soft twilight. On the floor, I sat cross-legged with The Book of Recreation in my lap.
Footsteps thudded up the metal stairs leading to the roof hatch. I thought Kirby came back up to check on me, so I didn’t bother fixing my tousled hair.
"Kirby told me you were here."
I jumped up when I heard Doyle’s voice. "He-hey." I flicked the dust off my jeans. "How’s working with Viessa?"
"Good," he said. "I gave her a list of twenty-five beasts that might fight on Jivar’s side, and she’ll start working on the capsules."
"Did you consider the different timelines? Since the past changed, and Viessa never worked for Jivar."
"I did my best."
"Good, good." I cleared my throat.
As our eyes met, we fell into silence. Things had become weird between us since Joe came over. Now Viessa was back, and Heidi...I balled my fist, thinking about her. "Why did you come up here?"
"Uh." Doyle fumbled over an answer. He put his hand in his pocket and produced the Mitu Parim seeds. "I forgot to give you this. This is why I’m here. To give it to you." He sounded awkward.
I took the seeds from him, but he kept standing in place with his hands dug into his pockets and his head hanging down.
"Let me show you something," I said as I dug the seeds in a clay pot. Circling my hand above it, a gold glow emerged, and within a few seconds, Doyle and I watched the seeds grow into seedlings then bloom into a large plant with gray and blue leaves.
"Splendid," Doyle said, awe-struck.
"This is the Magic of Recreation," I spoke in a chirpy voice. "The basics, at least. I’m still on page thirty of the book Ebba gave me. Turns out that my magic is all about growing plants, curing diseases, restoring balance... Undoing the damage."
"I’ve only seen magic that can destroy," he said. "But you...you can heal the world, Echo."
"Heal the world?" I giggled. "I like the sound of that."
Doyle averted my eyes, and my heart clobbered. What happened to the closeness we had before?
Do I have to put a lid on my feelings without getting a chance to express them?
"I’m not back with Joe," I said as I placed the plant on the shelf.
"Y-you’re not?"
"I have been trying to tell you." I looked him straight in the eyes. "You jumped back and forward twenty-six years but didn’t have a minute for me."
"Echo..." Doyle ran his fingers through his hair.
"Anyway, I wanted to tell you about Joe and me, in case you’re wondering." I felt like giving an excuse. "Although I truly cared for him, it wasn’t love. I had to let him go."
"Amazing."
"Amazing?"
"I mean, good. You should be with someone you love. This is a...an insight." Doyle fidgeted, clearly avoiding eye contact.
"Speaking of love. Viessa is back."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Don’t you want to be with her?"
Doyle cleared his throat and hung his head. It took him a moment before he answered. "Viessa will always be in my heart. She’s a part of who I am."
My lips curled in a sad smile. Guilt crept into my mind as I thought about Doyle and Viessa. I shouldn’t be feeling this way.
"But I don’t want to be with her," he added. "Viessa and I bring out the worst of each other. We can’t be together."
I held my breath, saying nothing.
"This is one reason." He finally looked me in the eyes.
"Is there another?" I asked.
"I’m afraid I’m not allowed to say."
I huffed. The heaviness in my chest faded, leaving behind confusion and pent-up frustration. "Good grief. I’m not good with this, Doyle."
"You’re angry?"
"Yes, I am. Because I’m in love with you, okay?"
"You wha-?" Doyle’s eyes widened.
"Happy now?" I cried out. "You’re driving me crazy, sending mixed signals, and I don’t like games. We both suck at—"
I lost track of my words when Doyle seized me by the wrist and wrapped his arms around me. All the confusion and the anger were gone, and love overflowed me. Closing my eyes, I sank into his chest, melting in his embrace with no resistance. I felt safe.
"I love you, Echo." My heart fluttered when he told me the words I longed to hear.
"You do?"
"Yes," he whispered. "I fell in love with your kindness, your intelligence, and even your recklessness at times, but I thought I wasn’t allowed to tell you."
"Why?"
"You know who I am and what I’ve done. Why would you accept me?"
"Because I do." I slid my hands along his back in a slow caress, hoping he would understand my feelings—all of them. "I do."
When Doyle was younger, he built a shield around himself. He couldn’t afford to risk his heart by opening up to another person. Somehow, I slipped through his shield, and he through mine. He became my safe place, and I, his. Although we came from different worlds, we became home to one another.
***
A soft light peeked through the table lamp, making it easier for me to read despite the dimness of the living room.
"What are you doing?" Doyle’s silhouette appeared at the door.
"Good morning, Darling." I drew a silly grin on my face.
"Darling?" He chuckled.
"Honey? Sweetie? Good looking?" I cleared my throat. "I’m really bad at this."
"I like good looking," he said as he sat next to me and glanced at the three empty cups of coffee on the table. The sourness lingered on my tongue.
"What woke you up at this late hour?" I was fishing for an answer like, ‘thinking about you, baby.’ I was really, really bad at this.
He curled his lips. "Kirby tossed me out of bed."
I laughed.
"What page are you at?" he asked, referring to the book in my hand.
"Three hundred and seventeen. I have been poring over this chapter for an hour, and I still don’t get it."
"Why?"
"This part talks about grimoires. Listen." I put my finger on the page to trace the words. "To claim ownership of a grimoire, the essence of the soul is yoked beyond the physical realm and into the metaphysical. Such a spell would banish the soul into the Unknown. What does this mean?"
"To take a witch’s grimoire, one has to steal the essence of their soul," he explained. "Without the essence, the witch’s soul ceases to exist."
"Is this what happens when Jivar feeds on people?" I asked. "Does he steal the essence of their soul?"
"I suppose."
"So assuming he fed on noble witches before—"
"He did," Doyle said apologetically.
"Jivar has more than one grimoire?" I let that sink in. "Oh, God. What are we up against?"
I rested my head on Doyle’s shoulder. He put his arm around me and leaned in, nuzzling my face.
"We’ll find a way to fight him, right?" I asked.
"We will," he assured me.
***
My heart raced, matching the beat of my feet as they pounded on the ground. When did I start running? I didn’t remember.
A cobbled path stretched before me, leading to a familiar place, one that I despised. My chest heaved. I stopped and rested my hands on my thighs. Sweat dripped off my face, and the sour taste of the morning stung my throat.
In front of me, the wishing well stood. I rushed to it to get some water.
As I dangled the bucket into the well, I glimpsed a little boy playing with a ball. He threw it in the air, and it flew up in slow motion. Then a white glow flickered as the bucket splashed down into the water, and I was pulled in.
I grunted when I hit the hard floor. Sitting up, I saw the shelves of scentless grimoires awaiting their owners. The Barag? Why am I here?
"I have been waiting for you," a voice said, and a cold chill tore through me. Slowly, I turned around to see the royal tunic, the lifted chin, and the arms tucked behind his back.
"Jivar?" I cried out.
He gazed through the window. The streaming sunlight cast his shadow on the floor.
