The Book of Spells (26 page)

Eliza pulled back and looked into Catherine’s eyes. They stared back at her as if unseeing. As if she’d never looked upon Eliza before in her life. A cold slice of uncertainty bisected Eliza’s heart.

“Catherine?” she said, holding on to the girl’s arm. “It’s me. Eliza.”

Slowly Catherine’s eyes seemed to focus on Eliza’s face. Then, suddenly, as if tugged by an invisible string, her head jerked downward in a nod. Eliza felt a rush of relief. There was still no color in her friend’s cheeks, and her skin was waxy, but she was moving. She was there.

Then her eyes glazed right over again.

“What’s wrong with her?” Viola asked.

“She’s been dead for almost two days,” Clarissa replied in her know-it-all way. “Give her some time.”

“Let’s not talk about death, shall we?” Theresa requested with forced brightness. “What’s important here is that Catherine is alive. We should bring her home and give her a chance to rest.”

Eliza clenched her jaw. She didn’t like the fact that everyone was talking about Catherine as if she wasn’t there. As if she was still just a corpse on the floor.

“Would you like that, Catherine?” she asked her friend. “Would you like to go back to our room and lie down?”

Catherine stared into Eliza’s eyes and again, Eliza felt the chill. Catherine’s head jerked side to side, as if she was a marionette being operated by a novice puppeteer. Eliza held back a choking lump of disappointment and fear, telling herself that Clarissa was right. Catherine just needed some time.

“You don’t wish to go back to Crenshaw?” Eliza asked patiently, trying to keep the tears out of her voice.

“Here,” Catherine said hoarsely. “Stay here.”

“But we have everything back in our room for the party,” Genevieve lamented, biting her lip. “The punch and the sandwiches and the chocolate.”

“You planned a party?” Theresa demanded, nonplussed.

Genevieve blushed, and Marilyn reached for her hand and squeezed it. “It was Genevieve’s idea. It was meant to be a surprise.”

“Well, we can go get all the food and bring it back here,” Alice said, her eyes bright. “If this is where Catherine wishes to be, we can bring the celebration to her.”

Everyone agreed to this plan, and Lavender, Alice, Marilyn, and Genevieve set off to gather the party things. Eliza held Catherine’s hand as they watched the four girls go.

“You,” Catherine said. “I wish to stay with you, Eliza.”

Eliza glanced at Theresa, whose jaw was set with obvious anger. She felt a thump of trepidation, but she couldn’t deal with that at the moment. Catherine was back, and she needed Eliza.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she told her friend, taking her hand in both of hers. “We’ll all stay right here together. Isn’t that right, Theresa?”

Theresa clucked her tongue. “Of course. If I’m even wanted.”

Eliza glowered at her. How could Theresa possibly be selfish at a time like this?

“What was it like, Catherine?” Clarissa asked, approaching her tentatively. “Do you remember anything? Anything at all about what it was like to be . . . dead?”

Catherine tilted her head, another jerking action. “Cold. I remember cold.”

Clarissa slipped her arm around Catherine’s and led her to one of the chairs near the wall. “Come and sit. We can talk all about it.”

As soon as the two girls had walked away, Eliza hazarded a glance at Theresa. “What’s the matter with you? Aren’t you excited? The spell worked!”

“A spell we wouldn’t have had to do if it hadn’t been for you sneaking off into the woods to meet my future husband,” Theresa snapped, the color rising in her cheeks.

“Theresa!” Eliza reeled back. “I thought . . . I thought we were past this. I’ve told Harrison I can’t see him again. Now Catherine’s back . . . you have everything you want.”

“No thanks to you, Eliza Williams,” Theresa said, narrowing her eyes. “I think I’ll go see if the girls need any help with their supplies.”

Then she turned on her heels, whipped her wide skirt behind her, and stormed up the stairs. Eliza stared after her, feeling so livid she could have spit on the floor. Didn’t Theresa understand what she’d given up for their friendship?

“Eliza?” Catherine said, staring blankly across the room. Clarissa, Jane, Viola, and Bia, all of whom had gathered around the girl, turned to look at Eliza as well. “Eliza? Where is Eliza?”

Eliza took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Tonight was about Catherine, not Harrison. Catherine was here, and Catherine needed her.

“I’m coming, Catherine,” she said.

But just then, a cold hand closed around her wrist. Eliza’s heart hit her throat as she whirled around. Helen Jennings stood before her, her blue eyes shot through with fear. Eliza placed her hand on her chest and tried to catch her breath.

“Helen? What is it?” she asked.

“I must speak with you,” Helen said, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. She glanced past Eliza’s shoulder at Catherine and the other girls, and something about her expression made Eliza’s blood run cold.

“What is it?” Eliza asked impatiently. “Catherine’s asking for me.” “This is about Catherine,” Helen whispered, ducking her chin. “Eliza, she’s . . . she’s not right.”

A lump of foreboding formed just above Eliza’s heart, and she reached up to touch her locket. For the first time she felt the tenderness beneath the pendant, and she winced. “What do you mean, ‘not right’?”

“I don’t think the spell worked,” Helen said, taking Eliza’s hand and tugging her toward the doorway, away from the other girls. “I don’t know what exactly, but something is not right with that girl.”

“How do you know?” Eliza asked, the lump traveling slowly up her throat.

“Her eyes. The way they stare . . . ,” Helen whispered furtively. “It’s just like Caroline looked before she died. That’s not Catherine. At least, not the Catherine you knew.”

Eliza hesitated a moment, but then the words filtered through and she found them suddenly ridiculous.

“Not Catherine? What are you talking about? Look at her!” She gestured toward the far wall and was appeased to find that Catherine was, at that very moment, smiling. “She’s fine. She’s alive. Helen, she’s alive because of us,” Eliza said, holding both Helen’s hands in hers. “I know you don’t trust the books, and I know that some awful things happened, but look at what the books have wrought now. They may have killed before, but now . . . now they’ve given life.”

“But Eliza—”

“No,” Eliza said. She took a step back, dropping Helen’s hands. “There’s a difference between what Caroline did to herself and what’s happened to Catherine. Caroline used magic for her own vain and selfish reasons. What happened to Catherine was not her own doing. She has been sent back to us because it was not her time, and she is going to be fine.”

Just then, Eliza heard footsteps and laughter overhead. Genevieve and the others had returned with the food and drink.

“This is a celebration, Helen,” Eliza said. “Why don’t you join us?”

Helen clenched her teeth, but remained silent. Then she turned on her heels and was gone. Eliza felt a pang of anger mixed with disappointment.

But then Alice skipped down the stairs and into the room, grabbed Eliza around the waist, and swung her around happily. “This is all because of you, Eliza,” she said. She stopped twirling and gestured at Catherine. “Look what we are able to do, all because you brought it out of us! We are all-powerful because of you!” She flung her arms around Eliza’s neck and hugged her as the other girls
began to unpack the sweets and pour out tumblers of punch for the party.

Eliza laughed as the members of her coven cheered and applauded for her. Alice was right. They were all-powerful. And never had she felt so alive, so free, so utterly unrestrained by expectations and rules and uncertainty. She looked over at Catherine and smiled; her smile was readily returned by her friend.

Catherine was alive again. That was all that mattered. Finally, everything was going to be perfect.

Eliza knew what she was doing was wrong. She knew that if her mother found out she was sneaking onto the boys’ campus at dawn— unescorted, no less—she would be disowned forever. She knew if Theresa found out, she would declare war on her. But she was far beyond caring about right and wrong. The line between the two was so completely blurred at this point that she could hardly make it out. All she knew was that she wanted to see Harrison. No, she
needed
to see Harrison. And so, as soon as the imposing gray brick wall of Ketlar House came into view, she lifted her skirts and broke into a run.

By the time she had flattened herself against the wall beneath what she knew to be Harrison’s window, she was panting in a highly unfeminine way. This, she
did
care about. She forced herself to take a few deep, steadying breaths, counted to one hundred, then stooped and picked up a handful of the tiny pebbles that served as a border
around the outside of the house. She stepped back, cocked her arm, and threw them at the glass pane two stories up.

Eliza looked up at the window. Nothing. No movement at all. Grabbing another handful of rocks, she took a step back.

“Elizabeth Williams, what are you doing?”

Eliza whirled around, heart in her throat, hand still suspended and full of dirt and pebbles. Harrison and Jonathan both stood before her in athletic pants and sleeveless shirts. Their skin shone with sweat, and their breath was heavy. Jonathan bent at the waist to catch his breath, but Harrison stood straight and took a few steps toward her. Eliza found she could not tear her eyes from the glistening skin of his shoulders.

“What are you . . . I . . . ?” She tossed the pebbles to the ground and dusted her hands off. “What are
you
doing?” she asked.

“Training,” Harrison replied. His expression was hesitant, confused. Not that she could blame him, since she’d so callously tossed him from her room the last time they’d met. “Jonathan and I are trying out for the school’s running team.”

“You’re trying out,” Jonathan said, still bent at the waist. He slapped Harrison’s chest as he hobbled past, headed for the Ketlar door. “I’m clearly not fit enough for this.”

“Where are you going?” Harrison asked.

“To curl up in a corner and die, I expect,” Jonathan replied, only half joking. “You two kids enjoy yourselves.”

Harrison looked about to protest, but Eliza reached for his hand and he fell silent. The door swung open and slammed closed, and
Jonathan was gone, leaving the couple alone in the dewy pink light of morning.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is amazing,” Eliza said. “It’s just . . . I’ve been up all night long, and when the sun came up this morning . . . all I could think about was you.”

Slowly the creases smoothed away from Harrison’s handsome face and he smiled, his blue eyes shining with relief. He opened his mouth to speak, but then somewhere nearby, another door slammed. Harrison looked around, then took Eliza’s hand.

“Come on. I know a place we can go that’s a bit more private.”

Harrison led Eliza around the back of the building, then behind Drake Hall and to the back of Gwendolyn. For a moment she thought he was going to take her down into the basement again, but instead he walked her around the side of the building, peeked around the corner, and then mounted the steps. Through the stone archway was a small outdoor room with a bench built into the solid rock wall. The cavelike space cut them off completely from sight. She sunk down onto the slatted wooden bench and Harrison sat next to her, still clutching her hand. As she looked down at their entwined fingers, Eliza was so full of emotion, she felt as if it was choking her.

She was with Harrison. She was with Harrison. She was with Harrison.

“Eliza,” he said, searching her eyes. “Tell me you’ve changed your mind. Tell me that’s why you’re here before I go completely insane.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Eliza said with a laugh. “Yes, Harrison. That’s why I’m here.”

Harrison smiled, his joy so pure it was written all over his face. Then he cupped Eliza’s face with both hands and kissed her. Already breathless, Eliza felt as if she might faint as Harrison’s lips searched hers. She sunk against him, oblivious to the rules of modesty and propriety. Right then, she wanted to feel all of him and to let him feel all of her. His hands trailed over her shoulders and down her back and he pulled her to him—so close, she felt as if her heart was beating against his.

“I’m so glad you came,” Harrison said finally. He kept his arms looped around her waist, his nose practically touching hers as he spoke. “I’m going to break it off with Theresa,” Harrison said. “I’ll do it today, this morning, right now.”

No more did Eliza care about Theresa’s feelings. Not after the way the girl had turned on her last night. The girl was capricious, selfish— untrustworthy. “Today will be fine. I’m in no rush.”

Harrison lifted a hand and gently smoothed Eliza’s hair away from her face.“But I am. I can’t pretend not to feel the way I do anymore,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “I love you, Elizabeth.”

Her heart caught so deliciously it sent shock waves of delightful shivers all through her fingertips and her toes.

“I think I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you riding in the carriage,” Harrison continued. “Who knew the day you set foot on this campus would be the day my life changed forever?”

Eliza smiled and closed her eyes, solidifying this moment in her
memory—the one moment of her entire life that she knew she would never, ever want to forget. Then she opened them again and looked into the eyes of Harrison Knox—the eyes, she suddenly realized, she would be looking into for the rest of her life. Her throat was still full, as were her heart, her lungs, her everything. But somehow, she managed to speak four small words.

“I love you, too.”

Still dizzy from an hour spent alone with Harrison, kissing, holding hands, and whispering all their hopes and dreams to each other, Eliza snuck back into Crenshaw House, closing the door carefully behind her. The house was deathly silent, all the girls still sleeping after their late night of revelry. Eliza took the stairs at a run, thinking she might wake Catherine when she got back to their room. After all, Catherine had been gone for a few days, and so much had happened. She and Harrison had shared their first kiss. They had said “I love you.” And now there was talk of the future—once Harrison spoke with Theresa, of course. Everything was happening so fast, but none of it would be happening at all if not for Catherine.