“He’s gone,” I reply.
“You’re sure?” Willow’s lip trembles slightly.
“He’s … pretty dead,” I say, recalling the billowing flames and the creature in the back of my car, thrashing about as he cooked alive.
“And yours?”
I nod. “Also dead.”
She hesitates, just as nervous as I was when I realized our shackles might finally be broken. Willow looks away for a moment.
“You haven’t seen him for a while, have you?” I continue, already knowing the answer.
Willow shakes her head, finally turning her gaze back to mine. Tears are welling up in her eyes, the emotions within struggling to rip forth as she valiantly holds them at bay.
“Do you know where we are?” she asks.
The question is surprising, taking me slightly off guard.
“I … don’t know,” I reply. “Lebka Books?”
Her eyes stay fixed on mine.
“Do you know where we are?” Willow repeats, only this time there’s a strange desperation in her tone. She’s begging me to answer, pleading for me to get this right.
I give it a moment, allow the space to permeate me. I take note of the worn wooden shelves, the soft acoustic guitar ballad ringing out from a radio at the front counter. I close my eyes, wondering what it is about this place that resonates so deep, then suddenly pop them open.
“This is where we met,” I reply with startling confidence.
Willow finally breaks, launching from her chair and marching toward me. She wraps her arms around my body, pulling me close and embracing me in a way that is strangely heartbreaking—a bittersweet juxtaposition of how good it feels and how long it’s been. We stay like this for an exceptionally long time, rocking from side to side in the hidden bookstore nook as we simply exist in each other’s presence.
In all my memories and all my dreams, it was never this good.
Eventually, the two of us pull away from each other, staring eye to eye as we consider what happens next. I feel a deep and powerful compulsion to kiss her, and I can tell she feels the same, but for some reason we hesitate.
We’ve got some catching up to do, and although we have quite a history together, there are still plenty of things to relearn before diving back in.
Instead of kissing, we untangle and drop into the chairs.
Willow’s camera is sitting between us on a small table, held tight in a sharp leather case. She extracts it, lifts it up and snaps a picture of me, then puts the device away.
“I’ve been taking a lot of photos,” she explains. “When you lose your memory for long enough, you start to think about capturing the little moments more often. It makes me feel better knowing the things I shoot won’t disappear.”
“Not this time,” I confirm.
It takes a moment, but eventually the incredible weight of the statement washes over me. We sit in silence a moment longer, taking it all in.
“Did you write notes for this?” Willow suddenly asks, a knowing grin creeping its way across her face.
“You know about that?” I blurt, fighting back a deep surge of embarrassment.
“I know all kinds of things about you,” Willow replies, laughing, then suddenly realizing how uneasy this moment has made me. “It’s okay. We’ve brainstormed topics together.”
This does, in fact, make me feel better.
“Can I see?” Willow implores.
“The notecard?”
Willow nods.
I pull a folded-up card from my pocket and hand it over, watching as she opens it and reads quietly to herself. I watch her expression shift from amusement to adoration to deep introspection.
“It’s dumb,” I say.
Willow shakes her head, then hands the notecard back.
“My name’s Willow Crogall,” she starts. “Legally speaking, it’s Magdalene Crogall, but let’s keep that between us. The first time I told you this, you never mentioned it again, so I trust you. I’m twenty-one years old. I’m a Gemini, which doesn’t matter because I don’t believe in astrology. My favorite dessert is cinnamon rolls, and my favorite movie is The Thing. You’ve never seen it, but one time you sat through it with your headphones on and an open book in your lap, because you knew it meant a lot to me. You looked up once during the dog transformation scene and never looked up again. One time, on a mission trip to Las Vegas, I snuck into the Great Britannica Casino and a drunk guy gave me a $100 chip, but I was too scared to collect the cash so now I keep it in my bedside table. I’ve been living on my own since a fight with my parents three years ago.”
I’m listening intently, legitimately thankful for this rapid-fire format.
“My folks were still supporting me while I did online courses, until they found out about us and cut me off,” Willow continues. “They wouldn’t help with rent unless I spent some time at Camp Damascus. That was the deal.” She hesitates a moment, wrestling with some deep internal wound.
Willow’s lip trembles slightly as emotions well up, then subside.
“I didn’t take it seriously,” she reveals, her monologue drifting to a stop.
I fold up the notecard and slip it back into my pocket. “I … don’t remember any of that,” I admit. “I remember other things, though.”
Willow smiles. “Maybe we can fill in the blanks together.”
She reaches out and places her hand over mine.
“Let’s leave,” Willow blurts. “If we’re together, what the hell does it matter? We won. You killed two fucking demons. How badass is that? The story is over and there’s a happy ending!”
I take a deep breath, mulling over her suggestion in my mind. It’s a wonderful thought, a dream scenario ripe for the taking. I want so badly to just reach out and grab it, to accept Willow’s offer and hit the road, never looking back and forgetting these horrible people ever existed. By now I’m no stranger to temptation, and this is my most potent temptation yet.
But I just can’t do it.
“That sounds really nice,” I gush, “but there’s something I’ve gotta do.”
Willow’s expression drops. “Oh god,” she sighs. “After all this time, you’re so different but you’re so … you.”
“There are people at that camp who need our help,” I reply. “This season, and the next season, and the next season. We can’t just let it keep happening.”
“We literally can,” Willow retorts.
“It’s dangerous, and it’s stupid. You don’t have to help me, and I wouldn’t expect it. All I’m asking is that you wait for me to finish what I started.”
“I’ve been waiting a pretty long fucking time,” Willow replies, getting emotional again.
“I know,” I admit. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, because I’ve been waiting, too, but we have to help those kids.”
Willow is silent, listening.
“I spent a lot of time doing work for Kingdom of the Pine,” I explain. “I ran donation projects and brought in money for the church. I thought I was helping people, and in some ways I probably was, but I was also funding some pretty horrific stuff. Namely demonic conversion therapy.”