My hands trembled and my fingers jammed in the wrong holes on the dial of the old rotary phone. I choked back tears as I frantically tried to call my gran. This needed to stop. It needed to stop now. I was done with it. I was done with feeling out of control. I was hurting the people I loved most, and if there was a power deep inside me, now was the time it needed to come out. My gran was the only one who could help me. I knew she had the answers. A simple call was all it would take—if I could ever get this old telephone to work.
“Wilde?” Walker asked softly as he pushed the bedroom door open.
My chin wobbled as I messed with the phone. Was it six nine? Or nine six?
“Wilde, what are you doing?” he asked.
I sniffled, shoving my fat fingers into the tiny holes and trying desperately to circle the dial around the face of the phone. Each number took an eternity to wind back, and I kept forgetting Gran’s phone number and how far into the sequence I had dialed. I slammed the receiver down not once, but twice, and then I closed my eyes tightly, letting the tears fall to my lap. I didn’t want Walker to see me break down, but more importantly, I didn’t want him to see the guilt I harbored for what I’d done to Mason. He crossed the room and sat next to me with his hand on my back, soothing me with slow, methodical strokes. I fought the urge to break down completely. I opened my eyes to face him and bare my heartache. I felt so small for all that I was. In the face of great expectations, I was falling short.
“What is it?” Walker asked.
I took a deep breath and glared at him through burning eyes. “I can’t do this.”
My eyes flickered to the phone and picked up the receiver again. Walker stopped me with his hand on mine. Slowly, we put the receiver down. I didn’t have it in me to fight for a phone call I knew I wouldn’t go through. She probably wouldn’t have answered anyway. Walker held my hand until I gave him my full attention.
“You can’t do what?” he asked calmly.
“Everything. Anything. All of it,” I stared him dead in the eyes. If eyes were the windows to the soul, I was exposing just how weak I really was. And I hated to face my vulnerability.
I was afraid I was going to let all my friends die, right here in Baylor. I was afraid they were going to get picked off, one by one. Not only would I be unable to help them, but I’d be the one who set them up. The one who served them a cold plate of my poisonous mind. I didn’t have the power Walker saw in me, and I never would. I was scared he would figure out that he was wasting his time with me. I was sure of these fears and so much more.
I didn’t tell him I was afraid he would never love me, or that I was afraid he was using me to help him find Layla. The entire world was crashing down on my shoulders, and I wasn’t strong enough to keep standing.
“We can do this, Wilde. I can help you.” He rubbed his thumb methodically across my knuckles.
I shook my head, protesting.
“I need to talk to my gran.”
“Here. What’s her number?” Walker picked up the phone to dial for me. I rattled off her number effortlessly. It seemed so easy when he did it. He handed me the receiver, and I waited miserably through the never-ending rings.
“Try again,” I said, when she didn’t answer.
I waited as the phone rang, the tone growing louder, mocking me and my failure.
“Try it again,” I said.
With each ring, I felt more and more alone. I was lost between the realms of the dead and living, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever find my way. My answers were on the other end of this old Victorian phone—if she’d only pick up.
She didn’t.
“Try it again!” I snapped. My hands shook when he took the receiver from me, and I wanted to pry it out of his hands and hold it to my chest. Why wouldn’t she answer my call? Why wasn’t she there when I needed her? Didn’t she know she was being summoned? Was she gone forever? What if I never got to speak to her again?
Walker pulled me into a tight embrace. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “I need to talk to her . . . I need to . . .”
“Shhh.” He ran his hands up the nape of my neck and scratched the back of my head, tangling my hair into a mess.
“I know you think you need your gran to get you out of this mess. But I’m here. I might be all you have, but I promise you, it’s enough. I can help . . . you just have to let me.”
“Did you hear what I did to Mason?” I asked. He’d probably leave me when he heard, just like my gran had. If he knew what a monster I was, he wouldn’t want to help me. And I didn’t deserve it anyway. “Did you hear that I locked him out of the shed and let a wolf attack him?”
Walker’s head tilted to the side as he looked at me empathetically. “Kinsley, you didn’t do anything. You didn’t do it,” he repeated firmly, with his hands pressed against my cheeks as he held my head to stare into my eyes. “You didn’t do it,” he said again. Clear as day.
“It was gigantic. It ripped him apart, and I did nothing to help him . . .”
“Shhh.”
I quivered, opening and closing my mouth like a fish out of water.
“Shhh.”
I let him hold me for a long while as my emotions ran the gamut. We didn’t speak for some time. I let the silence wash over me until every single emotion battling inside me solidified into one sole winner: defeat.
“Look, if you want to turn this thing around, you have to start slow. You’re going to have to work at it. There’s no other way around it,” he said.
“I’m going to,” I promised. “I’ll work all night if I have to.” If there was a way to right my wrongs, I’d do it.
Walker smirked. “It’s going to take longer than that. You’ll have to be patient.”
“Well, I’m free now. Should we get started? I’m not going to sleep tonight anyway. I have nothing but suspicious friends downstairs—and not that many of them left. For all I know, they could barge through that door at any moment brandishing sage and pitchforks. If they don’t go hunting for a wolf tonight, they’re likely going to come for me. I saw the way they were looking at me . . . like I did it. Like I was doing it on purpose. But I’m not. I swear.” I begged him to believe me.
“I know you’re not.”
“I have to harness this power. It must be now.” I was determined to strong-arm the magic. Walker smiled from one side of his mouth, and a dimple appeared. He was somewhere between pitying me and being sincere. But I didn’t care. I needed this. I needed to show my friends that I could turn it around. Otherwise, each one of them would fear me until the day they died.
Walker looked around the room and stepped away, snatching something from the dresser. He sat on the floor and placed a small peach-scented candle in front of him. He took a lighter from his pocket and lit it. Eagerly, I took a seat across from him on the carpet.
“To control this power, you need to harness your focus. There is a small stream of smoke rising from this flame. I want you to bend it.”
It seemed kind of boring. I’d rather work on changing its color or scent. And to be honest, it took me longer than I’d like to be able to find the stream of smoke in the first place. But there it was, a small shadow that rose from the white-tipped flame. It was small and steady, so it should be easily pliable. This was a joke.
I took my time staring at the smoke without results. And then I imagined that I had cupped it with my hand. Immediately, the smoke flickered.
“Hey, I think it’s working,” Walker said eagerly.
I frowned. It wasn’t quite what I was imagining. I tried again. The flame flickered slightly to the side. The scent of peaches danced in the space between us, reminding me that this should be fun.
“Good job, keep going,” he whispered, careful not to distract me.
But the only thing distracting was how pathetic this was. It was only smoke; it should be easy.
I could extinguish the flame with my breath if I wanted to. I tried again. This time, I imagined my hand was made of steel, and I was forcing the smoke to contour to the curves of my palm. But clearly, by the lack of transformation, strong-arming this manifestation wasn’t the way to succeed. I sighed and peeked up at Walker. He hadn’t lost a single ounce of patience. His eyes beamed with excitement. He looked as if he could do this all night long. He believed in me, far more than I ever had.
I tried again. I imagined a pencil in my hand, and the flame was my drawing. I pictured drawing it in a different angle and smudging the smoke off to the side with my thumb. If anything, I was getting worse at this. Nothing happened at all.
“I just don’t understand. I’ve done more than bend smoke before. Why can’t I do this?” I leaned back on my hands.
“It’s complicated. You must be in the right mindset. You’ve got to believe in yourself. If you can’t do that, then nothing will ever change. You’ve got to find that something inside of you that won’t take no for an answer. You’ve got to change your entire identity if you want to believe in yourself. Are you the kind of person who can bend smoke? Or not?”
That was the problem. I’d never believed in myself. From the day I began school, I learned I couldn’t keep up with the masses. There was something fundamentally wrong with me. The funny part was, in the eye of that disappointment, I never totally gave up. I kept trucking along, meeting failure at every step. It was the only path I’d ever known. Regardless of whether I believed I could do it or not, I knew I would never give up.
I tried to think about that feeling now. What was it that had made the magic work before? How had I stopped time to enjoy a moment I never wanted to forget? Slowly, I looked up from the candle to marvel at Walker. His encouragement was palpable. His patience was everlasting. It was him. It was the way he made me feel. It was the way he made me feel . . . about myself.
I’d told him many terrible things about myself. I’d told him I’d killed a man. He’d said it wasn’t my fault. I’d told him I was a monster. He’d said I had to believe in myself. Walker had always made me feel like I was more worthy than I gave myself credit for. He was my biggest fan. And I wanted to live up to the image he had of me. The girl he thought I was. I wanted to be better. I could identify with that, right? I could be all powerful? Magical?
I turned to the candle again, imagining the smoke sprawling off to the side. I squinted my eyes, focusing all my energy toward the tiny flame. And when the stream of smoke didn’t so much as flicker, I blew it out, just like I had the candles on my eighteenth birthday cake.
The room went dark. I could hear Walker’s lips part in a smile.
My cheeks warmed with embarrassment. I couldn’t do it. It was such a stupid small thing, and I couldn’t do it. If I failed at the start, the lowest point of entry, then where could I go from here? Flying was clearly far too advanced, but so was smoke bending. I didn’t understand myself, and I never would. My mind was a labyrinth of locked boxes.
“What?” Walker chuckled.
I rubbed my eyes, and a small smile formed.
“What was that?” He laughed openly.
“What? I couldn’t do it.” I said, thankful the room was dark, and he couldn’t see my face very well.
“Oh, but you did! You certainly found a way.” He said laughing even harder now.
That I had. I’d found a way. He always saw the good in me. I wasn’t dumb in his eyes. I wasn’t powerless. I was the girl who found a way.
His laughter was like music to my ears, and I wished I could see his dimples, because I knew they would be glorious. A treat sweeter than any summer peach.
The room illuminated in a soft orange glow. There they are. Those dimples, his smile. It warmed my heart, and I got lost in his presence.
His laughter dwindled, and his dazzling smile faded. His eyes dropped to the floor between us, and I grew alarmed.
“Did you do that?” he asked looking at the candle.
“Do what—”
The candle was lit. I froze. When did that happen? More importantly, how had it happened?
“Wow . . .”
“You didn’t bend the smoke; you lit the flame. You’re amazing!” Walker bounded to his feet, arms spread wide. I leapt up and hugged him, drawing in his coastal scent, and filling my lungs with pride.
I didn’t know how I’d done it, but that correlated with all the times before. I never knew how. It sort of just happened all on its own. When my mind turned off and my heart swelled . . . that’s when the magic happened.
I began to pull away so that I could tell Walker what I had just realized when his arms tightened around me. I froze momentarily and then sank back into his hold. He didn’t want to let go. He wanted to hold on to me a little while longer. Did he have feelings for me? It felt less of a celebratory hug and more like the hug you’d give somebody that you missed. Like he was soaking up all of me. Like he’d missed me, even though I’d been right here all along.
I laid my head down on his chest, and he rested his chin on top of my head. His hands slowly rubbed the middle of my back, diving a little deeper with each stroke. What was happening?
My heart beat against him. The low thuds were audible, and I knew he could hear it hammering between us. Hell, he could probably feel it. But it wasn’t just my heart; it was his too. Whatever I was feeling, I wasn’t alone. I dared to raise my head, afraid to snap us out of whatever this was, but longing for a kiss. Slowly, I lifted my eyes, trailing up his neck to his stubbled chin and resting my gaze on the bow of his lips. I swallowed the lump in my throat and then took the leap, looking deep into his golden eyes.
His gaze was intense. Like he was at war with himself. I swore he was trying to tell me something, but what? Did he want to kiss me?
He winced as if he was in physical pain and then pulled away abruptly. Just as quickly as it came, the moment was gone. He ran his hands through his hair, turning away from me. Had I done something wrong?
“Is everything okay?” I asked softly. I slid my hands into my back pockets and gnawed on my lip.
“Yeah. Yeah. No, it’s great. We’re getting somewhere. Pretty soon . . . we’ll be able to find Layla again.” My stomach sank with the sound of her name on his lips. The room turned icy and hollow. It was stupid for me to think there was room in his heart for anything other than her.
“That’s right. I’m sure we’ll find her soon.” I did what I could to reassure him and not look like a fool.
I thought back to the last time I’d seen her. She hadn’t even been interested in Walker. I didn’t know what was worse, knowing that he didn’t want me, or knowing that he’d chosen her. All I wanted was for him to be happy. And sure, in a perfect world, I’d get what I wanted too. But why her?
“So, what do you think is going to happen when you find her?” I pried.
“Well, shit . . . . I guess I’ll apologize,” he said, like it had knocked the breath out of him.
“For what!?” I snapped. Didn’t he know he’d done nothing wrong? That it was an accident?
“If it hadn’t been for me, she would have lived a long, full life. She’s out there, lost and probably scared, because of what I did. It doesn’t matter if it was an accident, it was my fault. I did it. I stole her life.” His voice sank into a pit so deep I wasn’t sure he could crawl out. Maybe he never had.
I didn’t like the way this sounded. Somehow, it felt personal. “Wait a minute, if you think you killed her . . . Then you think I killed Mason.” I cocked my head to one side.
Walker spun around in shock. “Whoa. No, no, no. I didn’t say that . . .”
“Yes, you did. That’s exactly what you’re saying. Oh my god, you think I killed them? All of them? Trinity? Big Jimmy? Lainey? Ethan and Mason? Oh my god . . .” I pressed my fingers to my temples as I took it all in. He thought I was a mass murderer. Was I?
“No!” he snapped.
“You’ve just been pretending that you think I’m amazing so that I don’t lose my magic. You’ve been trying to keep me on track so I would find Layla for you!” I took a step back.
The flame flickered madly, and Walker held his hands out in front of him. “Wilde . . . That’s not what I said, and that’s certainly not what I think. Don’t put words into my mouth.”
“It was an accident. They all were,” I said.
“I know . . .”
“Are you using me?” My heart stilled in anticipation of his answer. I didn’t know what I would do if the answer was yes. I certainly hadn’t been prepared to ask.
“Wilde, listen to me . . .” he began, as several other candles in the bedroom lit, casting dancing shadows on the walls surrounding us. “While it’s true I’m trying to keep you on track, and that I’m trying to teach you to find yourself and your power, it’s for you. I care about you. I . . . I love you, Wilde!”
The flames froze, and the shadows fixed in place.
“You’re the only family I’ve got left. You’re my only friend here. And it just so happens, you’re the only hope I have to find Layla.”
My heart thumped with disappointment. The flames grew tall, thrashing frantically about. Of course, he didn’t love me romantically. But was I so wrong to latch onto those three little words?
“Do you think I killed those people? Do you think I’m capable of bad things?” I asked.
“I think we’re all capable of making mistakes. Grave mistakes that have outcomes far beyond any premeditated measures. I know what happened was an accident. It’s just hard for me to admit that to myself.” Walker shook his head and swiped a finger at the corner of his eye. He wasn’t using me. He was just a guy riddled with guilt, in the same way that I’d been. We really were two of a kind, and I couldn’t believe I’d thought otherwise.
“You can’t call it an accident when I did it then take the blame when you do it. Either we’re both killers, or we’re both total screw-ups. You choose,” I said.
Walker closed the distance between us and wrapped his arms around me. We’d been doing a lot of touching tonight, but I wasn’t complaining. Maybe it was the new normal? This one was different yet again. It wasn’t passionate like the last one, and it wasn’t celebratory like the first. This hug was . . . brotherly. It was the kind of hug you give to somebody that you both love and love to hate. It was firm and a little aggressive.
“Come here, you screw-up,” he said. I laughed and slapped his back with my own frustration.
“I love you too, buddy,” I said with a laugh. Walker flinched. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. That jab stung. He didn’t want me to love him like a buddy any more than I wanted the same from him. And I couldn’t help but wonder, what would our relationship be like if Layla ceased to exist?
“You think you can turn down your flames of rage now?” Walker joked as he eyed the candles. The room shook with the furious silhouettes of my heightened emotions. The light of a half-dozen candles burning like tiny torches.
“Oh my god! That’s what I wanted to tell you. I think I figured it out. The magic isn’t made from thought. The magic is made from feeling.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, all this time I’ve been trying to make things happen by imagining them, but it always seemed like it was when I stopped trying that the magic happened. I realized it was a feeling—an emotion—that turned the magic on.”
“Do you think you can control your feelings?”
“I don’t know?”
“Try it! You have about one, two, six candles lit in this room. Try to blow them out.”
I considered the half dozen candles spread throughout the master bedroom. Walker placed a finger over my lips. “No cheating,” he said.
I smirked and closed my eyes. It was hard to think of anything other than his skin upon my lips. I promised myself I could relive all the moments another time—if I got this right.
This time I didn’t think about the candles at all. I knew I wanted to blow them out; I didn’t have to imagine it. Instead, I chose to feel the subtle warmth leach from the room, envision the dim glow fade to black behind my eyelids as the flames extinguished, and feel the pride swell in my lungs like fresh air. And just like magic, the room went dark with victory.