Page 54 of Big Little Spells

None of it feels particularly funny right now. It’s Carol. It’s Ellowyn. It’s Nicholas. It’s that we’re separated. It’s... something around us. I can’t articulate what it is, even to Emerson, but it’s there.

I know it. I feel it.

We make it outside into the dark air at last. It’s cool but not cold and smells of bonfires and the river and witchcraft. Something in me settles. Like the air itself is soothing. Like the gym was off, somehow.

Emerson grabs my hand as we walk—peeling off from the teenage crowd and heading toward Wilde House and Frost. Once we can’t see the high school behind us any longer, we release the spell, and our fake friends swirl away into the dark.

I breathe a little deeper once they’re gone.

“Here’s what I need, Em.” I swing our hands between us. “I need you to go be with Ellowyn. Hold her hand. Make her take care of herself. Make her laugh. Make sure she doesn’t use her illness as an excuse to kill Zander. I can handle this.”

“Rebekah—”

“I have to. I have to do it alone. I feel it.”

Her thumb touches my ring. Then she smiles at me. “You’re not alone. Even when it feels like you are, she’s always with us when we need her.”

I feel the usual surge of emotion when I think about Grandma. Love. Joy. Longing.

And that terrible shame that threads through all of it.

“Then everything will be just fine,” I say, even though I don’t think it’s necessarily true. Grandma might guide us, she might be there in spirit, but there’s only so much magic a dead witch can offer, no matter the depths of her love.

But if it’ll get me off the hook with Emerson, I’ll take it.

Emerson holds my hand until we get to the corner where we have to head in different directions. Beltane is in full swing around us. And the town has an annual May Day festival for humans that Emerson threw together in her spare time these last two weeks—because human festivals distract anyone looking too closely at why people flock to this small town on a random spring day. I can hear witches and humans alike, celebrating, and still it feels like it’s just the two of us.

And we have to part. I don’t know why it feels like a portentous moment—like everything changes from this choice. I smile and squeeze her hand. “Let me know if Ellowyn’s doing better?”

“I will. And I’ll expect a full report the minute you get home. I don’t care how late it is.”

“You’ll probably be off farming.”

It’s a joke, but Emerson shakes her head seriously. “This is the beginning, remember? From here on out, this is the test.”

I don’t want that to freak me out, but it’s certainly not comforting. Still, I don’t let my bright-as-a-daisy smile falter. I know that if I do, all the witches in the world won’t pry my sister from my side, not even the oldest around.

We drop hands and I turn away first, almost like if I don’t, I won’t. Then I head up the stairs carved into the hill. And I refuse to look back at my sister no matter how much I want to.

Because there’s only moving forward. Into whatever this is. There’s no glamour tonight. The mansion gleams in the moonlight as I approach, as unapproachably beautiful as its owner.

Or maybe the glamour is just not there for me tonight, I think. As a personal gift.

Lucky me.

But I’m not feeling lucky when I look up and see Nicholas Frost standing on his dramatic widow’s walk, waiting for me. Me. To do some mysterious Beltane ritual to deal with my fractured visions and my supposedly special powers.

To do whatever he likes, that same voice in me intones.

It’s not helpful, given this seems a lot like the immortal version of a date.

I’m dressed in a white Beltane gown like a virgin sacrifice, a counterpoint to the black suit he’s still wearing as he stands there high above me, a part of the night.

I should want to turn around and run. Close my eyes and magic myself back to Sedona, the Joywood and their tests be damned. But no matter how many rational thoughts I have, my body moves forward of its own volition. Step by step.

Until I reach the front door, all gleaming wood and intricate carvings. Though he’s given no instruction, I reach out and open the door. The knob turns in my hand, warm and welcoming.

It’s all candlelight and shadows dancing inside.

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