“I think we’ve got time before that happens,” I say, not wanting to make her worry more than I already have. “Mom says the council has it under control.” I squeeze Ivy tight, and she nods and heads inside.
My parents are walking slowly, their arms around each other, delighting in the memories of the night. I follow behind them, the lullaby still playing in my head, punctuated by the sounds of the sea lion slipping away.
I grip Landon’s sea glass tightly in my palm, its sharp edges digging into my skin.
When we get home, my mother walks to the kitchen and pours two glasses of wine while my father lights a fire.
“Would you like to join us, Tana?” she asks.
“I’m tired,” I say.
“Of course. Get some rest, sweetheart.”
I nod and head up the stairs, the sound of my parents’ happy laughter following me as I go.
I love that sound.
My room is dark, and I set the piece of sea glass on my dresser. I don’t bother turning on the light before I unzip my dress and fill my lungs for what feels like the first time tonight. I walk into my bathroom and wash my face, pull my hair up, and brush my teeth.
I’m about to crawl into bed when a dim light outside catches my attention. I pick up the sea glass and open the window, inviting the sound of the waves into my room. I sit on the window seat and roll the glass around in my hand, watching the world outside.
My head rests against the wall as I look out into the black night. The light gets brighter and brighter, coming from the lawn, a small brilliance against the darkness. I rise up on my knees and lean my head out the window, trying to focus on the light, and that’s when I see it.
A single moonflower, hanging contentedly over the perfectly trimmed grass.
A shiver crawls up my spine.
“No,” I whisper. It isn’t possible.
I blink and look again, but it sits there as sure as the clouds in the sky and the chill in the air. A flower so lethal that a single touch of its petals can kill. And it’s illuminated by a light source I can’t find.
If they should turn…
My grip on the sea glass tightens.
come after you…
The sharp edges cut into my skin as I stare at the flower in disbelief.
your weakness will ensure your doom.
It isn’t until a trail of blood runs down my wrist that I realize I’ve cut myself. I drop the sea glass and it clatters to the floor. I rush to the bathroom and run my hand under the faucet, and when I’m cleaned up, I go back to my window.
But the light and the flower are gone.
six
I know it’s time to tell my mother about the moonflowers, but when I get downstairs the next morning, she’s already gone. A child was born last night, and it’s tradition for the highest witch to welcome a newborn into the coven with ritual blessings.
Dad has made me a sprawling breakfast of fresh fruit, eggs, scones, and cinnamon rolls, and it’s almost enough to make me forget about the white flower.
“What’s all this for?” I ask, setting the table and steeping some of Ivy’s Awaken blend tea.
“Does there have to be a reason?”
I raise my eyebrow and Dad laughs. “I won’t always get to make you elaborate breakfasts, that’s all.”
The comment makes an ache start in my chest; we’re both realizing things are about to change, that soon breakfast with my dad will no longer be a given.
“A truly unfortunate part of adulthood,” I say.
We sit down at the table, and I take the largest cinnamon roll. “How did you make them this big?”
“Magic,” he says, winking at me.
I laugh. Dad usually refrains from using magic in the kitchen—he thinks he’ll lose his edge if he does. But every once in a while, he makes an exception.
“Good call,” I say.
“You and Landon looked great last night.” He says it casually, but I know he’s bringing it up to see how I’m doing. Dad understands the importance of the path I’m walking, and he supports it, but I think he feels guilty that I don’t have much of a choice.
When he met Mom, they fell in love quickly. He said it was as if he’d been living in black and white and meeting her turned his world to color. It was passionate and exciting and right, and I know he wishes I could experience the same thing.
I want to tell him I hope for those things, hope that one day I’ll see Landon and a vibration will take over my stomach. But I don’t want Dad to think I’m unhappy, so I shove the words aside.
“Landon’s a good man,” I say instead. “I’m glad we’ve gotten to spend some time together. He’ll treat me well.” They aren’t the exact words I want to say, but I’m confident they’re true, and letting them out eases something inside me.