“What family is he from? I’ve never heard that name before.”
I war with myself, knowing that telling this secret could change everything. Our coven believes the old witches are gone, that dark magic is obsolete. I don’t know what would happen if people knew the truth. But I also don’t want to carry this alone.
“You have to swear you won’t say anything,” I finally say.
Ivy sits up. “Why?”
“Swear it.”
“I swear,” she says, her voice uneasy.
I sit up, too, so we’re on the same level. “He’s a witch from the old coven.”
Ivy laughs, exhaling loudly. “You had me worried for a second,” she says, lying back down on the bed.
I grab her arm and gently pull her up again. I look her in the eye. “I’m serious, Ivy. The old coven still exists. It’s small, but it exists. Wolfe is one of them.”
The smile falls from Ivy’s lips, and her skin turns ashen. “It’s not possible.”
“That’s what I thought, too, but he proved it.”
“How?”
I pause and look down. I can never unsay what I’m about to tell her. “He proved it with magic.”
Her mouth drops open and she shakes her head, back and forth and back and forth. “But that means…”
I nod.
“Dark magic?” she says, her voice trembling.
“Well, technically it’s called high magic. But yes.”
Ivy looks at me as if I’m a stranger, as if we’ve never met. My heart breaks when I see the betrayal in her eyes.
“And you let him show you? You let him get away with it? We have to tell your mom,” she says, pushing herself off the bed.
I grab her arm. “Ivy, no! Please,” I beg. “Please just listen.”
Ivy looks toward my door, and it’s clear that she’s torn. Finally, her shoulders relax slightly, and she sits down on the bed.
“It isn’t… it isn’t evil,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “What he showed me. It’s based on a connection with the Earth. It’s natural.”
Ivy stares at me. “It’s dangerous.”
“No,” I say, willing her to understand. “I thought so, too, but it wasn’t harmful or anything to be afraid of.”
Ivy’s face is pinched like she ate something sour. “I can understand you having a rendezvous with a boy on a beach, but this? Do you hear yourself? How do you know he isn’t using his magic on your mind? How do you know he hasn’t charmed you to speak this way?”
“Of course he hasn’t,” I say before I even have time to think.
He wouldn’t.
Would he?
“He saved my life,” I say when Ivy doesn’t respond.
“What do you mean?”
I sink lower on the bed. “I missed the rush. It was an accident, and Wolfe helped me expel my excess magic so I wouldn’t die.”
“You what?”
“I know, I shouldn’t have missed it. But I did, and the only reason I’m still here is because Wolfe helped me.”
“But your life is tainted now,” Ivy says.
I look at her in disbelief. “At least I’m alive,” I counter, my voice rising. “Would you rather I be dead?”
Ivy doesn’t respond right away, and it hurts to see her examining the question, trying to find an answer that won’t tear us apart. But then she shakes her head slowly. She won’t say it out loud, won’t dare put voice to it, but it’s enough.
I need to show Ivy, make her understand that my life isn’t tainted, that what we’ve been taught to believe isn’t accurate. She knows me better than anyone, and I know I can trust her with this. “Let me show you something,” I say, pulling her off the bed.
We walk down the back staircase. My parents are still talking in the living room, and I quietly open the back door and lead Ivy outside.
Our lawn is perfectly manicured, a vibrant green circle surrounded by plants and shrubs. Several ferns grow along the base of a maple tree.
“What are we doing out here, Tana?” Ivy asks. Her voice is wary, but I know I can make her understand.
My hands are in my pockets, and when I pull them out, several petals from the moonflower I forgot about are in my palm, remnants from when I gave Wolfe the memory keeper. “See these?” I say, holding them out to Ivy. “These are petals from a moonflower, but I’m able to touch them. They aren’t hurting me; why aren’t they hurting?” I walk over to a fern and brush my fingers against the rough leaves, close my eyes until the magic inside me recognizes the energy of the plant. It flows to me freely, and I gently take it and tuck it in the dirt close by, whispering the words I used with Wolfe on the beach. Another fern sprouts.