“I should go,” I say, standing. “When you get home, put that bundle in oil and let it sit for a week or two. Then pour it into a bottle, add some alcohol, and spray it whenever you need. Instant peace.”
I think he’ll roll his eyes at that last part, but he doesn’t. “I will.” He says it in a way that makes me believe he’ll follow each instruction perfectly.
“Good.” I begin my walk up to the road, but something stops me. I turn. Wolfe is still standing where I left him, watching me. “I’ll keep your secret,” I say. “You have my word.” Because as much as it hurts him to be kept a secret, hidden away from the eyes of the mainland, he knows that it’s necessary to his survival. To the survival of his coven.
“I believe you.”
I nod and try to make myself walk again, but it feels so hard, as if I’m standing in quicksand and can’t get out. But I have to. I force myself to move, and when I get to the road, I fight the urge to turn back and see him one more time.
I keep my face forward and make my way home, but I can feel his eyes following me, watching until the road bends and the connection is finally lost.
twenty
I’m exhausted when I wake up the next morning, my head throbbing. Another night of magic no one can ever know about, and I justify it by telling myself we only practiced low magic. But even as I think it, I know it is beyond justification. We were still practicing at night, and Wolfe is still a member of the old coven.
Nothing will change that, not even making something as harmless as a perfume.
When I get downstairs, my dad is fixing breakfast and my mom is nursing a cup of tea. “Morning, baby,” she says.
“Late night last night?” Dad asks, and for one awful moment, I think they know. I’m silent, my mind racing, trying to figure out what to say, how to apologize, what to admit to, but then he speaks again. “It isn’t like you to sleep in this late.”
His voice is casual, teasing, and my whole body relaxes as I realize my secret is safe. Wolfe’s secret is safe.
“I was just thinking,” I say, making myself a cup of tea, then sitting next to my mother on the couch. She tosses half of her blanket my way, and I curl up under it with her.
“What’s on your mind?” she asks. I’m about to say something about my Covenant Ball or the perfumery when Wolfe’s words jump into my mind unbidden.
You were ignorant.
You should demand to know the truth.
My heart begins to race as I work over his words, wondering if I can actually summon the courage I need to ask the question that’s been plaguing my mind. Why didn’t it hurt?
My palms are sweaty, and I rest my mug on my thigh so it doesn’t shake.
“Have you ever seen a moonflower?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual. Curious.
“A moonflower? What ever made you think of that?” Mom asks, but she doesn’t sound upset or suspicious, so I keep going.
“I thought I saw one on the island,” I say. “I was wrong, of course, but that’s what made me think of it.” I hate lying to her, but I want to have this conversation, need to have it, and the only way is for my mother to believe it’s innocent.
Mom leans back on the couch and looks past me. “Once, when I was a young girl. The flowers had been eradicated by that time, but every once in a while, a stray seed would survive in the earth and bloom. That’s why we’re so adamant about teaching the risks of the flower. It’s extremely difficult to get rid of a plant once it’s made a home somewhere, and while we’ve done a very thorough job, it’s never a guarantee that they’re completely gone.”
“What did you do when you saw it?”
“I was with your grandmother, and she noticed it at the same time I did. She roped off the area until an official from the mainland came over and uprooted it. They’re beautiful. I wish I could have seen it at night, when it was blooming.”
“What if another one appears on the island?”
“Oh, honey, I wouldn’t worry about that. The one I saw as a girl was one of the very last sightings. And if you did see one, you would know how to react. You wouldn’t touch it, and you’d come to me.”
“But what if I did touch it?”
A heavy silence settles in the room. The noise of my dad preparing breakfast has stopped, and my mother looks at me with interest.
“Why would you ask such a thing?” she says as my father slowly steps out of the kitchen, waiting to hear how I’ll respond.