“You saw it?”
“Several times now,” he says, shoving a hand through his hair. “I can’t figure out where it’s coming from.”
“Me neither,” I say.
The light went out right where we’re standing, and in the span of a breath, the earth groans and a single moonflower rises in the space between us, sprouting large, heart-shaped leaves.
I jump back and take several steps away, putting enough distance between the bloom and me, but I’m not willing to run from it. Not this time.
The boy raises his eyebrow and looks at me with an amused expression.
“It’s a moonflower,” I say.
“I know what it is.” And with that, he picks it from the ground and touches it to his lips.
He stretches his hand out, offering me the flower, and I move even farther away from him. “Don’t come any closer.”
“They say these flowers are poisonous to witches, you know,” he says as he looks at the flower, twirling it between his fingers.
A sick feeling settles in my gut, and every impulse I have tells me to get out of here. I break out in a cold sweat, wondering who this person is, wondering if he hates witches enough to throw that flower at me. I should run, need to run, but for a reason I can’t explain, I stay where I am, frozen.
“One touch can be lethal.” He looks at me then and smiles, and for one terrible moment, I think he might be here to kill me. “I’ll tell you a secret, though,” he says, leaning closer. “It isn’t true.”
I swallow hard. Sweat beads on the back of my neck, and I shiver. “I don’t know who you are, but you need to leave. Now.”
“Why would I do that? I live here.”
“That’s not possible,” I say.
“Of course it is,” he responds. “Anything is possible.”
He moves his right hand through the air, back and forth, and the previously light breeze picks up into a gale force wind, slamming into me, sending my hair and my dress every which way.
Then, just as easily, he moves his hand down, and the wind calms.
I know what I’m seeing, know what I feel on my skin, but there’s only one explanation for it, and I can’t make myself believe it. I close my eyes and shake my head, trying to clear my mind of the two words screaming inside me, but they won’t go away. They get louder and louder until I’m forced to acknowledge what I saw: a perfect display of dark magic.
Goose bumps rise along my arms, and I take another step back.
“No.” It’s all I can say.
“No?” he asks, quirking his brow and raising his hand again. The wind picks up, and I rush over and slam his arm down to his side.
“That magic is forbidden, and I will not have it on my island.”
“Our island,” he says. “And where I come from, it most definitely is not forbidden.”
Our island. What he’s saying doesn’t make any sense. I’ve lived here my whole life and have never once encountered a wielder of dark magic. If what he’s saying is true and he does use dark magic, then—
“You’re from the old coven,” I say, more to myself than to him, my voice barely audible. I can’t believe the words have left my mouth. A chill moves down my spine.
“Wolfe Hawthorne,” he says, holding the flower out once more. A large silver ring adorns his right hand, glinting in the moonlight. “And yes, I’m a member of the old coven.”
I stare at him, unable to speak.
“You know, it’s customary to reply to an introduction with one of your own,” he says.
“Tana,” I reply in a kind of trance. “Mortana Fairchild.”
“Well, Mortana, I can assure you this flower isn’t poisonous. Take it.”
I stare at the flower, feeling an undeniable pull toward it, a desire so strong I can’t ignore it. I’ve never felt anything like it, and for a moment, I wonder if I’m being compelled to take it, to reach for my own death. I can’t fight it. It feels as if I’m outside my body, watching myself from high above as I extend a shaking hand to accept the moonflower.
I take hold of it.
And nothing happens.
It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t burn. My heart is still beating and my lungs are still breathing.
I slowly bring the flower to my face and inhale.
The petals brush my skin, and I remain unharmed. Every text I’ve read has described the pain as instant, followed quickly by death, but I feel normal. I’m trying to work through what I’m experiencing, knowing full well it’s impossible, but no explanation comes to mind. I’m at a complete loss.