How I Found You (12 page)

“I can’t take any more. I want to go back to… to before. Before, when my biggest problem was
you
.” It had been a whole lot easier when I’d thought his confession would end at ‘I’m a witch’. Oh, those were the good old days.

“We
can
go back,” he assured me, with a tad more enthusiasm than necessary. “I can still be your biggest problem.”

I kind of smiled.

“Perhaps I should make you some tea,” Oscar offered. “People always turn to tea at times like this.”

“Do you get a lot of times like this?” I asked in a fragile voice.

He shrugged. “This is my first.”

“Mine, too.”

His mouth curved up at the corner. “Tea it is, then.”

“Okay.” I gazed off to the azure sky beyond the window. “When will it be?”

“Well, I’ll have to boil the kettle…” He moved to stand up.

“No, when will this prophecy thing happen?”

“Oh.” He crouched back down in front of me. “We don’t know exactly,” he admitted. I noticed that his head bowed slightly.

“Soon?”

“I would imagine so.”

I looked at him, desperately and with a faint glimmer of hope. “But you’re going to help me? You’ll stop him?” I didn’t care about the ‘how’; all I needed was a ‘yes’.

He seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

“Yes,” he said at last. “We’ll stop Lathiaus.”

Swan Song

IT WAS AROUND EIGHT O’CLOCK
at night before I stopped spiralling.

Up until then, I had been cross-legged on my bed in a stunned silence, watching the sun set beyond the window. Oscar sat patiently on the floor, leaning back against the door with his eyes closed. When the daylight slipped away, neither of us commented on the fact that we were now sitting in total darkness.

I didn’t care. To be honest, I barely noticed. I was too busy mentally processing the grenade that had just exploded over my simple little world.  

Firstly, Oscar was a witch. What that meant, I wasn’t entirely sure.

Secondly, I was a witch, too. Or, at least, I was some sort of witch-human hybrid disaster.

Thirdly, the crescendo, my imminent death had been foretold. I was to die at the hands of a demon—Ol’ Crow Eyes, as I affectionately called him.

Fabulous.

Although it may seem somewhat judicious to list those…
pitfalls
, shall we say, in such a calm, matter-of-fact way, to get to this charmingly Zen-like state I had to go through five hysterical stages first.

First was denial. Deny, deny, deny. Oscar had made the whole thing up, undoubtedly because he’s a devious prankster, and I’d been stupid enough to fall for it.

Second was anger. Blame, blame, blame. I blamed Oscar.

Third, bargaining. Offer someone else in my place. Say, Oscar, for example.

Fourth, depression. Self-pity. I grieved for the things I’d not yet done, like putting Oscar in a chokehold and beating him with my curling iron.

And lastly, acceptance. I accepted my fate. But I swore, there and then, that I wouldn’t go down without a fight. And I knew I could count on one person to help me: Oscar.

“Oscar,” I said. He hadn’t moved in a while. I could just about make out his silhouette in the gloom of my bedroom.

He turned his head towards me. “Yes?”

“It’s dark,” I commented.

“I know.”

We fell silent again.

“I want to get out of the house,” I decided at last.

“Okay. Where do you want to go?”

I answered impulsively, “My tree house.”

“Your tree house?” he repeated, sounding confused.

Actually, I was confused too. I’d built a tree house in the forest when I was younger, but I hadn’t been to it in years. I hadn’t even
thought
about it in years. I don’t know why I wanted to go there now. I guessed it was my ‘safe’ place.

“It’s in the forest,” I told Oscar.

“And you want to go now?”

“Yes. Are you coming?”

In the shadows I saw him stir. “Of course I’m coming. I’ll get Caicus—”

“No,” I interrupted, “I don’t want to see anyone. I’m not ready to face the others.”

He paused. “Fair enough. Though I’ll need to pass by my room first. If Caicus is there, then I should give him some sort of explanation. I’m sure he’ll be wondering where I’ve been for the past few hours.” He rose to his feet and grasped the door handle. “Meet me at the front of the house.”

When Oscar opened the door, a fracture of light crept in from the hallway. I recoiled from it like a scorched vampire, and was relieved when the closing door returned the attic to its dark equilibrium once more.

Moving on autopilot, I crawled off my bed and shook out my stiff arms and legs. Then I tiptoed out of my room and down to the hallway.

I could hear the hum of voices floating up from downstairs. The conversation was light and there seemed to be a chorus of laughter. It sounded as though the chatter was coming from the conservatory. Now this was awkward, because if the conservatory door was open—which, judging by the clarity of the voices, it was—then they would see, or hear, me coming down the main staircase. I definitely didn’t want that.

I snuck to the top of the stairs and peered over the cast iron banister.

The door to the conservatory was open and the faint smell of brandy lingered in the air. I could hear Caicus entertaining my aunt and uncle with a sickeningly witty anecdote.

Since they appeared to be preoccupied, I took the opportunity to descend the staircase.

Every time I edged forward, the old structure creaked loudly under the strain of my weight. I paused at the halfway point, certain that I had been detected by the conservatory inhabitants. But their conversation continued to flow, undisturbed.

Surely there was an easier way than this?

And then it struck me.

Hello, banister.

I hopped up onto the oak handrail. Okay, sliding down a banister wasn’t quite as graceful as I had imagined. Not when
I
was doing it, anyway. It was possibly the most undignified and ungainly task I’d ever attempted. Even down to my graceless landing, where I slid off the end and cannon-balled onto the carpet.

Well, at least no one saw me.

Or so I’d thought until I looked up and noticed Oscar standing at the top of the staircase, smirking and silently clapping his hands.  

He strolled down the staircase—noiselessly, of course—and joined me at the bottom. Maintaining stealth mode, I unlocked the front door and stepped outside.

The sting of cold night air hit me like a salvo of angry wasps.

Before I knew it, Oscar was at my side, holding up his black jacket for me to get into.

“No, I’m fine,” I declined the offer.

“Don’t be stubborn,” he said, his breath misting the air. “It’s cold tonight.”   

“You’re in a T-shirt!” I pointed out. Talk about double standards.

“I don’t feel the cold,” he said, winking mischievously.

“Is that some kind of witch thing?” I asked.

“No. It’s some kind of me thing.”

With a reluctant sigh, I shrugged into the jacket. The sleeves were far too long for me, but it was warm and snug, and it smelt like Oscar—which I liked. A lot.

“Thank you.” He shot me a satisfied smile.

“Thank you, too,” I returned. When I sensed that I was blushing, I hastily changed subject. “You weren’t able to speak to Caicus,” I guessed.

“No. Probably for the best.”

I could tell that he didn’t wholeheartedly mean that.

“Right, are we going?” he said, evidently not wishing to discuss it further.

I hugged the sleeves of his jacket around me for extra warmth. “We’re going.”

“Lead on, then.”

So I did. I paced across the gravel yard towards the forest of evergreens. Oscar followed closely behind.

The moon shone above, full and lustrous. Around it was an endless scattering of stars, like fireflies hovering in the night sky. It was the sort of evening that made me wonder why I didn’t stop and appreciate the world more often. I was glad to be sharing it with Oscar.

Venturing into the forest, we wove in and out of the trees in a comfortable silence. Occasionally I glanced at Oscar, and he smiled but said nothing.

After several minutes of walking, we reached our destination.

“It’s around here somewhere.” I strained my eyes to see through the obscurity of dark, towering trees. “Over there!” I pointed excitedly to a tall oak standing separately from the evergreens.

There it was. My little wooden tree house, shoddily assembled amidst the thicker branches.

“Hmm. Dilapidated,” Oscar remarked.

I skipped to the oak and tugged at the rope step ladder that hung from the tree house. It seemed sturdy enough, so I tested my foot on the first step and precariously worked my way up.

I felt a rush of exhilaration as I climbed inside the den. It was just as I remembered it. Even down to the pungent, rotten wood smell. 

“I love this place,” I gushed.

“Uh… seriously?” Oscar raised a sceptical eyebrow as he climbed in through the entryway. He spent the next few minutes restlessly trying to get comfortable in the cramped space.

I, on the other hand, was immediately at ease. I huddled in a corner and fumbled around until I found my old torch, which had rolled underneath a beanbag. I flipped the switch and was pleasantly surprised when it actually worked. A weak orange spotlight lit the floor.

I brought the light up to Oscar and he grinned.

“So, this is home,” he said. “I like what you’ve done with the place. Or,
not
done, I should say.”

“Hey,” I scolded in good humour, “I’ll have you know that this property is high end.”

“High end? If this is high end, I’d hate to see low end.” He smirked slightly. Then he looked at me with a nod of sincerity. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“You’re welcome.” I dipped the torch back down to the plywood floor. “I’m glad you came.”

“Wild horses couldn’t have kept me away.” He nudged my leg with his foot. I guessed that was his way of saying he meant it.

I laughed. “Thanks. But I’m sure there are other places that you’d rather be.”

“Such as?”

“The cosy, heated house?” I offered flippantly.

“Pah! I scoff at modern conveniences,” Oscar declared. “Besides, I only like the house when you’re in it.”

My heart fluttered. “Oh.” 

With the torch cast down to the floor, I couldn’t see his face, which made what I was about to say a little easier.

“I have to ask you something,” I blurted out.

“Okay.”

“What are the chances that I’ll survive?”

He paused. “Right now, one hundred per cent.”

I didn’t really understand that, but it filled me with tremendous confidence. “Really? You think we can stop the prophecy?”

“No. We can’t stop the prophecy,” he answered truthfully. “It’s a divination. Out of our hands. But it’s possible to save you.”

“And it’s possible to save you, too—the witches, I mean.”

“Yes.”

“So, it is possible?”

“Yes. Anything’s possible.”

Good enough.

I definitely liked the sound of those one hundred per cent
odds.

“I don’t want to die,” I told him. After I’d said it, the words rattled around in my head as though they had come from someone else’s mouth. Not surprising, really. I certainly didn’t expect to be having this conversation at sixteen. Whilst sitting in a damp tree house. With a witch.

“I don’t want you to die, either,” said Oscar quietly.

“Why does it have to be me? What have I got to do with this Lathiaus guy—or demon thing, or whatever?” The word demon wasn’t a regular in my everyday vocabulary. It wasn’t a favourite, either.

Oscar inhaled deeply. “Hard to say. Maybe you’re linked to him in some way. Nobody really knows why it has to be you. It’s just the way it is, and has been since before you were even born. You were destined to be the only one of your kind.”

My kind. I hated that I was a ‘kind’.     

“You mean the half-witch thing?” I clarified grimly.

“Yes, the half-witch thing,” he affectionately mocked my choice of phrasing.

“Is that why I have the visions?” I asked. “Are they a power?”

Oscar stifled a laugh. “No. Visions are mostly identified as a human attribute. Dreams are intuitive messages from the unconscious mind.”

“So, if I’m half witch, then why don’t I have any powers?”

“I don’t know. And you’re not really half witch. You just have a witch’s heart. A good heart,” he added.

“Well, I don’t want it.”

“Why do you denounce it as bad?” he mused. “Who you are is exceptional.”

“It’s terminal.”

“It’s
you
,” he corrected. “It’s who you’ve always been. Who you were born to be. Nothing’s changed.”

“Everything’s changed!” I spluttered. “I’m on a demon’s most wanted list.”

“Eh. Take it as a compliment.”

I shone the torch at myself to illuminate my unimpressed scowl.