Page 61 of Tempest

“Well—this is why I didn’t want to say anything, but … I sense a darkness in you. A blackened aura, if you will. You’ve been through tribulations, much like Sarah Anderton.”

Make a sound, and I’ll cut out your tongue. Fight me, and I’ll cut off your fingers and send them to Daddy…

“I—I never tried to poison anyone like she did,” I say lamely. “And I’m not interested in witches the way Clover is.”

Mariana smiles. The edges of it don’t reach her eyes. “I’ve made you uncomfortable. I apologize. Allow me to make it up to you by offering you this. Free of charge.”

Mariana reaches behind her, rummaging through boxed items she has yet to display. As she does, I catch movement behind her beaded curtain.

“Are you alone?” I blurt out.

Clover gives me a warning look.

“Uh-huh,” Mariana says without turning. “Off-season, there isn’t much reason to have extra hands. I’m sure you’ve noticed the lack of pedestrian traffic outside—”

A ski mask with penetrating dark eyes cuts through the beads, the decorative lines knifing through the nightmarish image into a carving of beauty and ugliness. Light and dark.

I stumble back, knocking into a display case of incense burners and dried herbs. Some packages burst open as they fall to the ground, scattering their scents and intermingling them in a way that, according to Clover’s face, is horrifying.

“I’m so sorry!’ I bend down to scrape up the mess but end up making useless piles on the floor. I can’t help but look behind Mariana again to see if he’s still there or was never there in the first place, afraid of either option.

“It’s not a problem. It’s okay, really.” Mariana comes from behind the counter and kneels beside me, bringing the calming scent of something sweet, musky, and completely unlike the smoke in my nightmares. “Accidents happen.”

“We can pay for what we ruined,” Clover says. She bends in front of me, squeezing my wrist in solidarity as she does so. I’m so thankful she doesn’t scold, berate, or humiliate me, but why would she? She’s my friend. She’s not Mila. I’m the one who left her, not the other way around.

And here she is taking half-responsibility for my mess.

“I’ll pay,” I correct gently. “Again, I’m so sorry.”

“Darling, I can feel it, too.” Mariana lays both hands on my shoulders. Normally, I shy away from a stranger’s touch, especially after Mariana showed such over-familiarity with me after only a few seconds, but her weight steadies my panic. Centers me.

I meet her eyes.

“I was going to offer you this.” Mariana releases one of my shoulders and pulls a black stone from her dress pocket. “Black tourmaline. Keep it with you, for it blocks psychic attacks.”

“I—I don’t—”

“Shush, now.” This time, Mariana’s smile reaches her eyes. “Whatever you want to call it, whether negative energy or someone wishing you harm or simply wanting to be at peace while another is in turmoil beside you, this will keep you safe.”

I find myself closing my fingers around the shining, jagged black crystal.

“You two should go. You’ll be late for class. Don’t worry about this. I’ll clean it up in less than two minutes.”

“Are you sure we can’t pay?” Clover asks.

“Positive. This is a place you can come to and learn how to defend yourself.” Mariana looks at me as she says it. “Do you understand?”

I nod, even though utter confusion ripples inside my head. I don’t believe in this stuff. I’ll never think that crystals can protect me. Yet I can’t unsee what haunts me every day.

Clover and I stand at the same time. As nice as the shop owner is to us, I have the overwhelming urge to run. It’s like my leaving campus has thinned the already fragile thread between my past and a safe space I can call home. Like I’m out in the open now, and my demons who’d once thought me lost can now track me.

“You might have a kindred spirit in Sarah,” Mariana calls as we move to the door. “I suggest, instead of the gaudy horror shows students put on and the complete disrespect most use it for, you use that place to contact her, center yourself.”

To my horror, Clover looks intrigued by this until I smack her to get moving so we can get out of here.

“I don’t have anything in common with a murdering witch,” I say as Clover pulls open the door. And I will never go to that cottage because of the man who now guards it.

Mariana responds, “You don’t know what she went through, much like no one truly understands your struggles, either, sweet child.”

Her gentle, closed-mouth smile is the last thing I see before I firmly shut the door in her face.

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