Page 104 of Truly Madly Magically

Emerson tugs my arm, and I let her pull us toward Jacob and Frost, who are standing down at the end of the bar. We all nod our hellos, but it isn’t really a small talk kind of moment. Zander finishes behind the bar, saying something to his cousin who’s come to fill in for the night.

No one says, or after tonight too, if necessary.

Zander winds his way toward us. He greets me with a kiss, then lifts a hand toward his cousin. “Thanks for the help, Zeb.”

Zeb nods from behind the bar. “Good luck, Riverwood. We’re rooting for you.”

We all pause for a moment, taking that in. We look at each other. Then Emerson grins and offers what I hope is only the first fist pump of the evening.

As her younger sister, Rebekah is duty bound to roll her eyes. Georgie laughs. Then the Riverwood coven is out in the October cold again.

We walk away from the bar, letting the dark swallow us whole. We pause for a moment, there where the trees seem like mere suggestions and the river rushes past, singing its songs of power and portent. The stars and moon are hidden behind clouds, but that suits us for right now because we’re doing a spell to create as many different versions of us as we can.

We gather into our circle, and I sense our familiars drawing near to lend their power to ours. Ruth hoots in the trees I can barely see, it’s so dark.

We don’t have to see to start the spell though. Together in unison.

“Confluence, strong and ours. Moon, bright and mighty. Hide us in plain sight. Protect our purpose this important night.”

The magic spills out from the center of us, creating versions of ourselves. The Riverwood at Wilde House. The Riverwood back at Nix. The Riverwood up at Frost House again. Decoys of us meant to distract and confuse the Joywood so they can’t track us or figure out what we’re really up to.

Once that’s taken care of, we walk over to the ferry. Zack and Finn are there, but Zack is ready to leave the ferry in Finn’s hands tonight and come with us this time.

Finn guides us over the river like the newly minted Guardian he is, and I stand with my coven, my friends, watching the confluence with all its gold, good magic sparkling through. Even in the dark.

Because of us.

When we get to the other side, we walk up the trail from the river to the cemetery on the hill, where Jacob’s family have already set up for the ritual. Not far from the grove of redbud trees that figured so prominently in bringing Emerson back to herself last spring.

To me, this feels like coming full circle. She fought off adlets here so she could live and do all the miraculous things she’s done so far. Now I will sacrifice what part of me I can, so that even more witches will live, and who knows what they’ll do?

Elspeth and my mother are already there, standing next to each other in what no one with eyes would call a friendly sort of silence. It’s Maureen and Evie and a few of Jacob’s other relatives who are carrying the conversation and acting like they don’t notice the strain between Tanith and the current Wilde matriarch.

But it doesn’t matter what ancient feuds they’re still prepared to fight. What matters is that we’re not on our own anymore.

It means more than I ever thought it could.

We’ve all gone over (and over and over) the order of what’s going to happen. What I need to say and do. That doesn’t mean I’m not nervous. Not that I might fail, but that it might not go the way we want. That any number of irritating spell things might happen, because spells are tricky, and rituals like to make you work for them.

And there’s always the possibility that the Undine might call us in the middle of it.

Yet I know there’s nothing more to be done. No amount of thinking changes what will be—good or bad. I try to think only about what needs to be done and when.

Here, Jacob is in charge again. When everything is set and the time is right, he leads me to the center of the cemetery. Everyone else takes their places, as planned and exhaustively rehearsed. Our familiars and Jacob’s family in a wide circle around us. Our parents in four points within the circle.

Me, in the middle, with my coven lined up in front of me.

The ghosts that still only Zander and I can see take their places too. Elizabeth on my right. Zachariah on my left.

Jacob begins by lighting a candle, murmuring words of incantation and invitation alike. Then everyone in the circle and our compass points light theirs, echoing him.

Until we are all dots of flickering light against the dark night. With me at the center. I blow out a slow breath.

“We are here tonight to counteract the dark, the poison, and those that would hurt the Summoners among us,” Jacob intones, calling in the spirits and the spells, all powers and portents alike.

I feel as if a new wind kicks up, but only I seem to feel it. Rushing through me, wrapping around me.

“It is a Healer’s spell,” Jacob continues. “A Healer’s ritual.” His gaze meets mine, gold and bright. “But you are the center, Ellowyn. The blood. The choice. The cure.”

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