I can’t speak. The world dims and my ears ring. I watch my mom’s mouth move, her eyes frantically searching mine, but I don’t say anything.
Slowly, things start to come into focus. The trees blowing in the wind. The chime above us. The cold air seeping into my lungs as I open my mouth and choke on the dryness of my throat.
“Why?” I croak.
She frowns. “There was a time when large groups of the Wielders with dark magic turned against the Elders. Defied their laws and manipulated humans to gain positions of power. It started a war with the Elders that resulted in those Wielders—and everyone with their same magic—being rounded up and thrown into prisons around the world that blocked their abilities. Except, not being able to use their magic turned it against them. None of the prisoners survived long. It didn’t take long for word to spread, and any Wielders with that kind of magic who hadn’t already been detained by the Elders scattered and went into hiding.”
I want to crawl out of my skin. “Did my dad go against the Elders to gain power?”
“No, but he was discovered alongside others who were thought to have done that—including Remington’s parents.”
Relief flutters through me for a brief moment, knowing my father wasn’t one of the bad guys. But it doesn’t really matter how it happened. I still lost him. “I don’t know how much more I can handle,” I admit in a whisper.
Mom wraps her arm around me and guides me into the warmth of the house, and I don’t fight her. I don’t have it in me.
Once we’re in the kitchen, Kit takes one look between the two of us and says, “You told her.” Panic etches into his features, and his face quickly becomes something I no longer want to look at.
My eyes burn with tears, but I don’t fight them back. “This whole time . . . You’ve been lying to me since the day we met, Kit.” I shake my head as a tear slips down my cheek, and I finally look at him again. “You knew I’d never be able to wield the magic you were trying to teach me.”
He rakes his fingers through his hair, messing the blond strands that fall into his face, which has quickly filled with despair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to help you. We thought that maybe if you spent enough time with all of us, surrounded by the elements, that you could learn our magic.”
“We?” My gaze flicks toward my mom before returning to Kit.
“Nova and I. The others don’t know your magic isn’t elemental.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Has that ever happened before? A Wielder with dark magic learning elemental magic?”
Kit hesitates. The silence in the room is heavy, then he whispers, “Not that I know of. There isn’t . . . Emery, you’re one of few Wielders with dark magic left.”
My jaw clenches as the bit of food in my stomach threatens to make a reappearance on the kitchen floor. “You had no right to keep this from me.”
“We know,” Mom says, “but it was the only thing we could think of to keep you safe. If the Elders find out . . .” She trails off as if she’s run out of breath. “Please don’t give up on this.”
The oven timer beeps, and I tear my gaze away from her. This conversation is far from over, but I need to give my head a second to catch up.
Mom shifts past me and walks to the oven, sliding the turkey inside.
I take that opportunity to leave the room, not stopping until I’m in my bedroom with the door shut and locked. I grab my bag off the floor and dig through it, throwing my clothes on the bed until I reach the book at the bottom. I pull it out and start from the beginning, reading every single word on every single page. Granted, I probably should have done this when I found the book, but the last thing I expected was a whole different story from the one I was given on my birthday.
Mom and Kit leave me alone, and I spend the afternoon reading the rest of Dad’s book. Unfortunately, I come across no insight as to why the Elders banished our magic. Just a bunch of spells that could get me killed if I use them.
I toss the book to the side and bury my face in the mountain of pillows at the head of my bed. I’m at the mercy of Kit and Mom to answer my questions, and having no way to find answers on my own makes me feel . . . well, pretty damn hopeless. How can I be sure what they tell me is the truth? What’s to keep them from lying to me again?
There’s a soft knock at my door, but I ignore it.
“Emery?” Mom’s voice is muffled from the hallway. “Dinner is ready.”
I’m not the least bit hungry, but the sooner the niceties are over, the sooner I can ask more questions.
Sitting at the kitchen table with a plate full of my favorite holiday foods should make me feel all warm and fuzzy. Instead, my stomach feels as if it’s filled with gravel.
We all pick at our food, sitting in heavy silence.
Mom takes a sip of her wine, sneaking a glance at me from across the table. “I baked your favorite pie.”
I poke at the pile of mashed potatoes on my plate with my fork. “Thanks.”
“You’ve barely eaten anything,” she says in a gentle tone.
“I’m not hungry.” The fork feels heavy in my hand.
She sighs. “Emery, please try to understand. We only kept this from you to—”
“Keep me safe?” I cut in, throwing the napkin onto the table beside my plate. “My ignorance could have gotten me killed.”
Kit’s face pales. “No one is going to hurt you, Emery. We won’t let them.”
“Is that supposed to make this okay? Everyone has been lying their asses off to me about my life, but hey, it’s fine because you were all just trying to keep me safe.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just don’t want you to worry. Now that you know the truth—”
“I want to learn my actual magic,” I cut in, leaning back in my chair. “There’s no sense in continuing to teach me magic I’ll never be able to wield.”
“Of course there is,” Mom says. “If we can figure it out, if you can learn to wield elemental magic even though that’s not what you were born with, it very well could save your life.” She takes a quick look at Kit. “Your magic . . . it’s rooted in manipulation. M-maybe you can learn to manipulate the elements,” she stutters, clearly grasping at straws now.
I thrust my fingers through my hair, pressing them into my scalp to ease the tension forming there. “You want me to live a lie to stay alive?”
“If that’s what it takes.” Her eyes are wide, and her tone is desperate. “I can’t lose you, Emery. I already lost your dad because of this magic. I refuse to let it take you, too.”
I look to Kit. “This was your plan since I arrived at Nova’s?”
He nods, but doesn’t say anything; his face is filled with shame. The sight makes my stomach hurt, and I have to remind myself that it’s his fault. He decided to lie to me. They all did.
Swallowing, I clear my throat before speaking again. “And Remington. He’s like me, so what does that mean? What is it he wants?”
A muscle ticks along Kit’s jaw. “Revenge.”
I blink at him. “Revenge for what? And what does that have to do with me?”
Kit sighs as if he doesn’t want to tell me. “It has to do with your magic. Because it isn’t grounded in anything natural, it can be . . . transferred.”
As if I need something else to make my head spin. “Transferred to what?”
“Another Wielder with the same magic.”
A chill races through me, making the hair on my arms stand on end. “Wait. He wants my magic for himself?”
Kit nods tightly, his shoulders stiff with tension. “More magic equals more power. As you can imagine, Wielders like you are very hard to come by. I haven’t come across another aside from the two of you in years. Remington must’ve done some digging through his own family history and made the connection between you and your father.”
“If Remington put that together, who’s to say the Elders haven’t as well?” My pulse spikes at the thought of them coming after me.
“They can’t track you,” Kit says. “It’s one of the only ways Remington and the few others left have managed to evade them. Because of the origins of your magic, they can’t reach it with their own.”
“Origins?” I echo.
“You remember what I told you about elementals being angelic descendants?”
I don’t like where this is going. “Uh-huh.”
“The dark Wielders are descended from demons.”
I inhale slowly through my nose, then blow the breath out through my mouth. “That’s . . . just great.”
“The Elders can’t track you for that reason, but Remington can. Just like you can track him. The two of you need to be relatively close, meaning you can’t track each other from separate states or anything, but if you were in Helen or here, for example, and he was in Savannah or Atlanta, it would work.”
I’m not sure which is more terrifying—being a descendant of demons or being connected to Remington.
I wrap my arms around myself. “So not only do I have to worry about the Elders finding out about me, but now Remington is going to try to steal my magic?”
“He can’t steal it. You would have to give it to him willingly, and it’s not a back-and-forth thing. If you give it up, that’s it. It’s gone.”
“So it’s a one-and-done sort of deal? No take-backs?”
Kit nods.
“Okay, but why would I do that?” The second the question leaves my lips, I can’t help but think, to save myself from the Elders and get my life back?
It’s almost as if Kit sees that thought pass over my face, because he says my name with such urgency, my eyes widen.
“Can you blame me for thinking about it?” I say.
Mom catches on and frowns. “Honey, you don’t want to do that.”
“No?” I challenge. “Pretty sure it would make things easier for everyone.” At this point, why on earth would I want to keep it?
She looks at the table. “Your parents wouldn’t want that for you.”
“Would they want me to spend my life scared and hiding because of something I was born with?” I read the passages where my dad worried about what would happen when I was born. How do I know he’d want this? And what about what I want?
“Please just take some time. This is a lot to process,” she says. “I don’t want you to do something you’ll end up regretting.”
I look over at her. “Do you wish you had magic?” If she were in my position, would she want to give it up?
She blinks in surprise. “I . . . don’t know. Sometimes, I guess.”
“Even with all the bad parts?”
“You have to take the bad with the good, just like with anything, Emery.” What a mom response.
Glancing between her and Kit, I sigh. “I’m kind of tired. I think I’m going to lay down for a while.”
Mom frowns. “Okay, honey. I’ll check in with you in a little while. Don’t forget there’s pie.” She tries to smile, but I can see the pain in her eyes.
I get up and carry my plate to the kitchen, dumping the food into the trash under the sink. On my way past the table, Kit makes a move to stand, but I shake my head and keep going.
I need to get out of here. This place—my home—suddenly feels suffocating. The moment I’m alone in my room, I reach for my bag, fishing through it until I pull my phone out. Cringing at all the missed texts and calls from Lana and Jessa from the last two weeks, I type a message in our group chat.
I’m sorry for the silence. I’m in town for the weekend. Can we meet? I’m desperate for a reminder of what normalcy feels like. Even if that means sneaking out before pie.
Lana responds first. Emery! Where the hell have you been? We’ve missed you!
Jessa’s message follows right after. Let’s meet up in an hour! Just finishing dinner.
Sounds great, I type back.
I’ll pick you up soon, Lana says, and I send a thumbs-up emoji.
I walk down the hall to the bathroom and get in the shower, cranking the dial to the hottest setting as I scrub my skin until it tingles. After I wash my hair, I turn the water off and wrap myself in a fluffy robe, tying my hair up with a towel.
Once I’m back in my room with the door shut, I shrug out of the robe and tug on my favorite pair of black leggings, pairing it with a simple tank top and maroon cardigan.
My phone chimes from the table beside my bed, and I reach over to read the new message.
Here!
Be right out, I type back and shoulder my bag, slipping my phone into the front pocket. I step into the hallway and creep down the stairs, holding my breath until I reach the front door. I quickly tug on my hiking boots, pausing when I hear soft conversation coming from the kitchen. I can’t make out what they’re saying without getting closer, and I don’t want to risk them hearing me, so I slip out the front door and hurry down the driveway.
I drop into Lana’s passenger seat and buckle myself in before looking at her. “Long time no see,” I say, going for a light tone as I attempt to complement it with a smile.
She puts the car in drive and pulls away from the house. “Too freaking long, Em.”
“I know, but it’s . . .” I stop myself before I can lie to her face. Am I really going to sit here and do exactly what I’m angry at Kit and my mom for doing to me? The reasoning is the same—to keep her safe—so why is it so hard?
“It’s what?” she asks, glancing between me and the road as we get closer to Jessa’s. A perk of living in a small town—our houses are about ten minutes apart.
I press my lips together. “Complicated.”
Lana shakes her head, but keeps her gaze forward. “What does that mean?”
I glance at my lap. “I want to tell you, Jessa too, but it’s not—can we just talk about something else, please?”
We pull onto Jessa’s street and stop in front of her townhouse. Lana taps the horn before glancing at me. “She’s going to want to know why you left just as much as I do.”
Jessa hurries outside, zipping up her jacket before piling into the backseat. Her dark brown hair is a windblown mess around her face, and she tries to blow it away. “Em! O-M-G, we’ve missed you. Please tell me you’re coming back to Covington. It’s so boring without you.”
I turn in my seat to smile at her. “I’ve missed you guys, too. I would love to come back, really, but I don’t think I can. At least, not right now.”
Her brows furrow as she ties her hair back. “Why not?”
“Why don’t we go somewhere to chat?”
Jessa looks at Lana. “What’s even open? It’s Thanksgiving.”
We end up at the Starbucks off I-20. We’re the only ones in the café, and after ordering chai lattes, we sit around one of the small round tables.
“Thank you for not giving me crap about everything,” I say, glancing between the two of them as they sip on their drinks. “I know I’ve been a bad friend not answering texts.”
“We were just worried about you, Em,” Lana says. “Nothing about your leaving made sense. Two and a half months into our senior year of high school, and you switch schools out of the blue?”
“You’re right. And it really wasn’t up to me. I hope you know if it had been, I wouldn’t have left. Especially not without talking to you both about it.”
Jessa frowns. “So why did Holly make you leave?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “She was worried about me. Some therapist at the hospital in Atlanta told her about issues that orphaned children can experience in their teen years.” It sounds ridiculous to my own ears. “I didn’t really understand it for a while, but I do now. I never learned how to properly cope with the loss of my parents, but with the help of my mentor at this new . . . school, I’m doing a lot better.” It’s half of the truth. Sort of.
Lana reaches across the table and puts her hand on top of mine. “We’re your best friends, Em. If you were struggling with something, you could have told us.”
Jessa nods. “We would’ve been there for you.”
I exhale slowly. “I know, and I’m sorry. I just . . . didn’t know how.”
Lana squeezes my hand. “We love you.”
I smile despite the ever-growing pit in my stomach. I hate lying to my best friends. I’ve never wanted to tell the truth so bad in my life. What would happen if I did? I look at my friends. Would they believe me?
“Does this mean you’re coming back to school?” Jessa asks. “It’s senior year, and we’re going to start applying to colleges soon. You should be there for that.”
“I’m taking online classes,” I say, “probably for the rest of the school year. But we can work on college applications together.” I haven’t given any thought to what happens after high school—I’ve been a little preoccupied as of late. My future is still too much of a dark hole of unknown; the thought of applying to colleges seems pointless right now.
Jessa nods. “Think of how cool it would be to share a dorm!” She downs the rest of her latte while Lana and I just sit and stare at her. “I’m gonna get another. Anyone else?”
I peer down at my almost-full cup. “I’m good.”
“Same,” Lana adds with a hint of an amused smile.
“I’ll get it for you,” I say, standing and taking the empty cup from her hand and tossing it in the trash near the register.
“Oh, wait,” she calls after me. “Can I get an Earl Grey tea instead?”
“You got it.”
The barista is talking to a customer in the drive-thru, so I scan the menu while I wait my turn.
Out of nowhere, the back of my neck starts to tingle. My chest tightens, and a flush creeps across my cheeks. I suck in a breath, but before I can turn around, his bemused voice hits me like a jolt of liquid energy, sending shivers through me.
“What the hell is a macchiato?”
My voice doesn’t work, and my feet are cemented to the floor as the barista turns to face me, her eyes getting stuck on the guy lurking behind me for a long moment before focusing on me.
“What can I get you?” the barista asks with a smile.
I swallow, looking to the side to catch him in my peripheral. “Tea,” I finally say. “Uh, Earl Grey.”
“Sure,” she says in a pleasant tone, and I pay before she walks to another counter to make the tea.
“You need to leave,” I say under my breath. My heart is racing so fast it’s painful in the way it thumps against my chest. As much as there’s a part of me that wants to ask Remington the questions Kit either won’t or can’t answer, this is the worst time for it. I can practically feel Lana and Jessa’s eyes on us—well, on him.
“But I still don’t know what a macchiato is.”
I grit my teeth. Is this guy for real? “It’s espresso with foamed milk.”
The barista returns with Jessa’s tea before Remington can respond.
“Thanks,” I mumble, finally turning around. I force myself to meet his gaze when I say, “You can’t be here.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but instead, he grins, turning toward the table where Lana and Jessa are sitting.
“What are you doing?” I growl at him.
His gaze focuses back on me, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” He looks past me toward the table again, lifting his hand in a wave.
I slap it down. “No. You need to leave.”
His jaw hardens as those ice-blue eyes snare me in place. “Hmm. Not yet.”
“What are you doing?” I push. “They don’t know anything. You can’t—”
“They don’t know anything because you’re being smart and keeping it to yourself, or because I showed up before you could tell them?”
My eyes widen. “I wasn’t going to . . .” I shake my head. “How is that any of your business, anyway?”
The corner of his mouth curls into a wicked smirk that reminds me just how dangerous his attention is. “Don’t worry, little bird. I’m here to help.” He brushes past me and drops into my seat, taking a drink from my latte before I can snatch it away from him.
I set Jessa’s tea on the table in front of her, but she doesn’t even notice.
“Who are you?” Jessa asks, her chin propped on her hand. “A new friend of Emery’s?”
He smirks at her. “Something like that.”
I cross my arms, standing at his side. “No,” I say quickly.
“Wait,” Lana adds. “Are you dating?” She looks between him and me. “Is this why you really left Covington?” Her tone is joking, but her words make my eyes widen.
I say, “No!” in the same moment Remington says, “Yes.”
“The plot thickens,” Jessa says with a little grin in my direction.
“No,” I repeat, grabbing his shoulder and digging my fingers in hard. “Rem—”
“Fine, fine. No, your lovely little friend and I are not dating. She has magic in her blood, which is why she had to leave. She’s learning how to use her magic and, you see, she can’t do that around humans.”
Lana and Jessa stare at him, blinking. They don’t say anything for several seconds, then they both look at me.
“I . . .” Words have completely escaped me. I thought I had accepted that they couldn’t know the truth, but now that it’s out there . . .
What the hell just happened?
Lana speaks first. “He’s joking, right?” Her laugh is breathy and uneven.
My gaze drops. I can’t look at them as I shake my head. When Remington starts whispering under his breath, words I can’t begin to understand, my head whips up, and I suck in a breath. Lana and Jessa are slumped against each other with their eyes shut. They look as if they fell asleep in conversation, not like Remington caused whatever this is.
“What are you doing?” I hiss, shaking his shoulder. “Stop it!”
Remington stops speaking, and the girls open their eyes, looking thoroughly confused. They look at each other and frown before glancing back at me.
“Sorry,” Jessa says as her brows knit, “do we know you?”
My stomach plummets as both of my best friends look at me as if I’m a stranger. I stumble back. “You . . .” Shaking my head as tears blur my vision, I can’t find the strength to push Remington away when he takes my elbow and walks me out of the café.
Once we’re outside and the cold air hits me, I shove him away. “What did you do?” I say through my teeth.
He shrugs, adjusting his black leather jacket, and I stomp back over to him. Before I know what’s happening, my palm cracks against his cheek. Pain explodes in my fingers, but I don’t care. I shove him hard as a tear slips down my cheek. I swipe at it angrily and advance again, curling my hand into a fist before swinging it toward his face.
He manages to dodge it and maneuvers himself behind me, drawing my arms behind my back.
I snap into fight mode, trying to break free from his grasp, but any movement I make sends pain shooting down my arms. “What did you do?” I snarl through shallow breaths.
“Quit acting like a rabid animal, and I might feel so inclined to tell you.”
Trying to break free again, I kick back in an attempt to catch him in the shin, but completely miss. He lets go of my arms only to spin me around and pin me against the side of the building. It’s completely dark out, which means no one will see us—not that there’s anyone around.
I shove against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. “What did you do to them?” I demand, my wild curls hanging in my face and my chest heaving between us. “You need to go back in there and fix whatever dark magic crap you did to make them forget me.” Tears spring in my eyes at the thought of my best friends having no recollection of the years we spent growing up together.
Remington tilts his head, watching me for a moment before he pushes the hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. “Dark magic,” he muses aloud, his lips quirking.
I look away from him, forcing myself to focus on the line of trees across the street. Until Remington grips my chin, forcing my gaze back to his. “I know about your magic,” I tell him, my jaw clenched tight.
His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. “Don’t you mean our magic?”
I glare at him in response.
He nods, his fingers drifting from my chin to trail down my neck before his hand falls back to his side. “So then, you must know what I want. Unless Kit meant to leave you completely in the dark.”
“You want my magic because it will give you more power.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes; this guy is such a cliché. “If you think you can use my friends to make me give you—”
Remington’s deep laugh drowns out my words. “I’m not going to reverse the spell, Emery. I manipulated their memories and removed you completely. You want to fix it? Learn the magic and do the spell yourself.”
“Are you insane?” I hiss. “I can’t just—”
“Oh, but you can.” He taps my nose quicker than I can smack his hand away. “You just don’t want to.”
“They don’t deserve to have their heads messed with.”
He shrugs. “What I did was a favor to you.”
“Screw you,” I snap. “You have no idea what I’ve gone through in the last two weeks.”
Remington rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes—poor you. Let’s just pause everything so you can have a moment to wallow in your existence.”
“You are such an asshole.” This time when I push against his shoulders, he backs off, and I walk toward the parking lot around the side of the building. I pull my phone out of my pocket to call a cab and find a slew of missed calls and texts from Mom and Kit. Crap.
Remington moves toward me. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m going home.”
He snatches my phone away with a laugh. “Don’t bother. I’ll take you. I think you and I have more to talk about.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “I don’t need your help.”
He tilts his head, watching me too closely. “You have no idea how wrong you are about that, little bird.”
I stare into his eyes. “Go to hell.” Grabbing my phone back, I dial the number and order a ride. When I turn back around, Remington is gone, and there’s a newly hollow feeling in my chest.