The Gleaning (14 page)

“Camellia is in such an awesome position, though. Why does she want more?”

“She got the job she has by default. She got it because I was forced to give it up in exchange for your protection. She knows this. She knows I can never be more powerful than her, because I wouldn’t risk exposing you, Lily. For someone like Camellia whose life is her magic and this coven, it’s difficult to keep perspective. She never married, she never gave birth to children, she never had to sacrifice for something, or someone, she loved more than her magic—to be given that position by default? That’s not something that’s ever been easy for her.”

Iris’ face was red and ranty. This was way personal, and wow, it explained a lot. Why Camellia constantly undermined mom during coven meetings, why she was so dismissive of, and even patronizing, toward me. Why she was harder on me than the other girls. I always assumed she was tough on me to improve my skills as a witch. What if it was really to knock me off my game? I shuddered at the treasonous motives behind sabotaging your own underling. And when had it all begun? Years ago? Weeks? We had so much to find out. And so little time to do it.

“There’s more you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?”

“There are some things you aren’t meant to know just yet.”

She stroked my hair. It felt good, comforting.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Mom.”

“Yes?”

“In the dungeon…” My eyes welled up with shame. “The reason I didn’t reach Logan last night was that I was tricked by another shifter. This warlock named Jude pretended he was Logan, and I kissed him. And then when he shifted back, he was taunting me, and he told me he thinks he’s the one, not Logan.”

“The Rognaithe?”

“Yes, Mom. He’s also haunting my dreams. Confusing me. In my dream…he revealed the mark.”

“The broken rose moon?”

I nodded. “And his ink is different from Logan’s. It’s brown instead of black. Could that mean his magic is lighter? That maybe it’s true what he said, that he might be the one, and we’re off about Logan?”

My throat burned saying it out loud. I didn’t want her to answer yes, but I didn’t want to hide my suspicions from her. It was too important not to share.

“Brown ink? What did you say his name was?”

“Jude. I don’t know his family name.”

“I’ve never heard of brown ink appearing on a Son of Darkness in modern times. It used to mean the mark of a pure warlock, the ones referred to as “hereditary witches.” As they descended from pure Spellspinner lineage, magic came easier for them, not only because it flowed from both a witch mother and a warlock father, but because they were directly descended from the Isle of the Seven Sisters.”

I felt like I’d swallowed a stone. “Then he wasn’t lying.”

“Not necessarily. This warlock told you he was a direct descendent?”

“Yes.”

Iris’ brow wrinkled. “I’ll have to consult the Sisters to find out if this is even possible…”

“Do you…I mean, there’s no way he could be the Rognaithe? That we were wrong about Logan all along?”

Mom looked flustered. “I was so sure about Logan. Your feelings for him are so true. Do you have feelings for this warlock, Jude?”

“No. No way.”

“Tell me the truth, Lily. Your connection to the Rognaithe is one of the keys to revealing the mark. It’s important that you search your soul and are completely honest.”

“I d-don’t want to feel anything for him. He’s crass and manipulative, and…I thought he was Logan. That’s the only reason I felt anything.”

“But you did feel something. And you feel guilty about this kiss?”

I nodded, as a single frustrated tear slipped down my cheek and froze just above my upper lip.

This time Iris didn’t take it on her fingertip and invite me to make a wish.

I rested my head on the cool table, soaking in the comforting feeling of oak against my pounding temples. Mom kept stroking my hair, gently, in thought.

“It was my fault Logan was in the clearing to begin with. He was bringing my amulet, to protect me. If I could just see him before the Gleaning! I’m so worried about him. About what he says Jacob did to him and his best friend Chance, poisoning their minds with his freaky fire breath. I need to make sure he still has my amulet, because it’s the only thing that can protect him against Jacob’s spells.”

“Your amulet is the only thing that can protect
you
from Jacob’s spells. You didn’t give it to him, did you?”

I pictured us together on the beach, his palm outstretched, the moon shining down on the jewel as it sparked on his skin.

Then us losing it under the water.

And him returning it to me.

Only to have me return it back to him in the Grove last night.

“I had to, Mom.”

“But from what you said, it
didn’t
protect him.”

My faced flushed with frustration. “Well, he was still okay when we talked in the dungeon. Without it, he could be in much worse shape.”

Her sigh froze in the air then shattered into crystals. “We need to get it back before you fight in the ring. You’ll be vulnerable to Jacob without it.”

“I have his, though, Mom.” I clasped the amulet dangling from my neck, “I don’t think you get it. Mine protects
Logan
; it doesn’t protect me. And vice-versa.”

“And you know this for certain?”

“Yes!” But then a terrible thought occurred to me. Last night in the dungeon, I had felt its pulsing heat guiding me to Logan. But then I’d been lured into Jude’s trap. Maybe I’d only imagined its protection.

But no. Somehow I knew it had been leading me closer to Logan, channeling our connection. I just hadn’t been listening hard enough. Maybe that’s what Rose was trying to tell me with her journal—to trust the amulets, as a key to my destiny.

Logan

An origami rose was lying atop Logan’s pillow when he woke up at dawn in his room. Carefully, he unfolded the paper petals.

When he finished reading, the paper rose burst into flame and disappeared into thin air, leaving only a single ash in Logan’s palm. Was it an incantation? A warning? The two stanzas possessed very different meanings, and he’d bet a pocket full of charms, it had something to do with the amulets.

Lily

Iris stood behind me, brushing my hair softly and then weaving tiny braids from the front pieces near my face. Next, she’d braid it all together so it would lay twined down my back like a rope: ceremonial as well as practical. Daisy and I had been practicing these braids forever, making sure we knew them inside and out. For a young witch, the first Gleaning was celebrated like a wedding day, the dramatic culmination of all of our hard work and training. But my nightmare about the doppelganger—about Logan drowning—had left a dark, mournful feeling in my heart.

“Our literature teacher told us star-crossed lovers doesn’t mean what we think it does.”

“Oh?”

“People traditionally interpret ‘star-crossed’ to mean young lovers who have obstacles in their paths before they can be together. Not true. It means they are cursed. It means someone’s going to die.”

Iris’s reflection in the mirror was steady. “You and the Rognaithe, whoever it turns out to be, aren’t star-crossed, honey, you are Chosen.”

“Then why is it all so complicated?”

Mom laughed, “You think all the greatest plays and poems and songs would be about love if it was easy?”

“I hate this.”

“I know this is hard. It doesn’t all make sense now, but it will.”

I fingered the space around my neck where my amulet used to hang, where Logan’s hung now.

“You look beautiful,” she said. “You look ready.”

She knew what I was thinking. “If you are paired with Logan tonight, you must think of him as just another warlock. If your true emotions get involved, you will lose focus and lose everything you’ve worked so hard for.”

Think of him as just another warlock? “How can I do that?”

“You’ll have to detach, use a meditation.”

“You’ll have to cast a spell on me. There’s no way I’ll be able to think of Logan as ‘just another warlock’.”

“Unfortunately, that won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Love isn’t something that responds to spells.”

“What do you mean?”

“Believe me, if there was a spell that could make you stop or start loving someone, we’d be the most powerful witches in the universe.”

“What about the Love Potion spell?

“That’s not real love. It’s temporary, and sometimes, very dangerous. True love is never forced, never faked. Real love is the hardest thing to get over, and while an incantation or a charm can temporarily ease your heartache…well, the memories are always there, haunting you.” She blinked as if trying to temporarily wipe one away, one about my dad, probably.

I glanced up at a framed photograph on the wall: one of Mom, Dad, Daisy, and me. Taken so long ago, and so many crazy-events ago, it felt like a lifetime. I wished my dad were here. To hug me goodbye, to wish me luck. But then again, he was never too thrilled about the thought of us entering the Gleaning, so maybe if he were here, it would be worse.

“So tonight, when you face Logan in the Stones, you must remain as objective as possible. Pay close attention to the energy you glean from him. The feelings you get when it travels from him into your veins. Monitor the energy closely. The levels of darkness, of light. Focus on keeping that balance.”

“I feel so unfocused right now.”

“Let’s work on that.” Iris’ swordfinger lit a series of candles behind me in a straight line.

“Blow them out.”

I turned around and opened my lips to breathe cool air on them.

“No, Lily. With your mind.”

She sensed my hesitation.

“You can do it. Focus only on the flame. This is the kind of focus you’ll need in the Stones. Go on.”

Iris stepped back, and I closed my eyes and saw the candles in my head. Their long tapers of wax, the flickering light. But when I tried to snuff out the first flame, it only grew taller in my mind.

“Reverse it, Lily. Focus on the wick, see it void of fire, feel the clarity.”

“Okay.” Closing my eyes again, I lowered the flame in my mind. It grew smaller and smaller until it snuffed itself out and was left with only an indigo glow of flame.

“Good!” She clasped her hands together. “That’s the technique you must use when you fight Logan. If his energy becomes too much, you snuff it back; Don’t instigate it with more of your own energy. That will only ignite its fire.”

“Let’s try it again in reverse,” I suggested.

We practiced for over an hour until I had the technique down. The push and pull, the yin-yang of it all mesmerized me. By the end, I could snuff the flame in seconds, just as I could draw more fire, until it danced near the ceiling. Daisy came in toward the end and watched.

“That is so awesome,” she said in amazement. When a familiar honk sounded from outside, she seemed torn about leaving.

“Is that Jonah?” I asked.

“Uh-huh. He’s playing tonight at the Witch’s Brew, but you know, I don’t have to go. I should stay here and wait up for you.”

“No, no. Go.”

“But last night you got back so late, and tonight you’re…you look so beautiful, Lily.” She touched my wrist. “And so strong. I know you’ll be amazing.”

“Thanks, Daze. And you should go. Have fun. I won’t be back until nearly dawn.”

“You just be sure you have a ride home, and get home safe,” Mom chimed in. “The Gleaning lasts until sunrise, honey. I’ll be out of earshot, so call Auntie Fern if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Looking at my sister—so young and fresh, like a dandelion in bloom—gave me pause. Was I doing the right thing? What if I didn’t come back? Daisy would be an only child. I blinked away those fears when Mom rubbed my forearm. I couldn’t afford to think that way. Not now.

“Should I tell Jonah you said hi?” Daisy asked.

Hanging out at the Brew felt like years ago, but I still felt terrible about what happened with Jonah on the beach.

“No, that’s okay,” I said, not wanting to lead him on, or remind him of me at all. I wasn’t proud of my behavior and choices that night. But if I had to do it all over again, I would still choose Logan.

Daisy had no idea what went down—or almost went down—between us that night, and she didn’t need to.

“Other people are going too, right?” Iris asked.

“Oh, yeah. He’s just giving me a ride. Clover and Saffron are both in the Twinkie as we speak.”

Clover=witch. Saffron=human. Leave it to Melas County.

“Good luck tonight, Lily,” she said, hugging me around my waist. “I wish I could be there.”

“Witch’s Brew sounds much more fun,” I said and meant it.

“Be careful.” Her eyes filled with emotion, and I squeezed her tightly.

“She’ll be fine,” Iris told Daisy. “She’s ready. And one day, you’ll be ready too.”

“I hope so,” Daisy said anxiously.

“Have fun!” I said, forcing a carefree smile as I watched her pull on her favorite pink hoodie with the words MELAS IS SALEM SPELLED BACKWARDS sprawled across the back. Mom gave her money and reminded her to be home at ten.

I would give almost anything to be hearing the same words from her tonight.

Mom walked Daisy out to the van. I watched quietly from the window as she greeted Jonah, who looked characteristically bouncy.

I pressed my palm against the cool glass, watching them go.

Then, I stared at my reflection. The dark circles under my eyes that even make-up couldn’t hide. When she came back upstairs, Iris gently swiped her thumbs under my eyes, trying to magically erase the darkness. “I can’t get it off,” she said, looking tired.

“It’s fine,” I said.