Page 78 of Truly Madly Magically

“It’s the only thing Georgie knew of that mentioned Revelares.”

She hands it to me, and I can’t seem to help myself. I open the book and flip through the pages, like Zander was doing this morning. I’ve read through it already, but it’s just a fanciful story set in some made-up land. The Revelare isn’t even the main character.

We don’t need to discuss how she’s bound to a Guardian though.

“This Revelare can see the past and the future,” Rebekah says, pointing to a page in the book. “You said Elizabeth mentioned the same thing. Maybe it’s more than a story.”

“It looks like the kind of thing Mom might have read to me as a child with all her many caveats of not being saved by princes, not determining my worth by any chosen one nonsense, and love not being a magic cure-all if you aren’t willing to work at it. In other words, just a story.”

Rebekah makes a considering sound. “So.” She waits until I look up at her, then smirks at me as only she can. “Are you willing to work at it yet?”

I laugh, despite myself. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“You might not. I decidedly do.” She reaches over, takes my hand, and holds it hard so I can’t pull away. “Ellowyn. You love him. You always have. Remember? Love is the only lie you tell, but it will claim you in the end.”

As if I could forget that vision of hers.

But I shake off her hand. “I’m going to shower and get ready to open the shop.”

Rebekah sighs as if I’m being ridiculous or dramatic, and I decide then and there that someone is going to listen to me.

“We have an ascension to deal with. I have a shop to run. There are statues coming to life and ghosts running around and...” I shake my head, looking into the bedroom that I can see from here is filled with my rumpled bed and too many images of Zander to count. I rub my hand over my chest where something hurts. “It has to be too much.”

“I’ll note you said it has to be, not that it is. Because one’s a truth and one’s a lie.”

“I don’t want it to be like last time.” That’s honest. I don’t know if that’s the source of all the panic whirling around inside of me, but it’s enough of the source.

“Who says it has to be?” Rebekah asks me gently.

I think about his misplaced honor, which Elizabeth called a sword that cuts things in half. Isn’t that what led him to break up with me in the first place? I think about my uncontrollable temper, which led me to someone else that very night. A full-blooded witch with a legacy of helping and protecting. A half witch with a legacy of curses and unhappiness.

People can grow up, sure, but can they change? Can anyone really change?

I refuse to answer her. Instead I march away and lock myself in my bathroom, then take my time getting ready. When I head back out to the kitchen, Rebekah is still sitting there, reading that fairy tale and eating a cupcake.

“I have to open the shop.”

She gets to her feet languidly and brings the cupcake and book with her when she finally deigns to amble toward the door, her tea mug floating along behind her.

Also, she’s talking. “A Revelare who’s blocked from seeing the past by forces she doesn’t understand. A dragon and a princess fighting for truth. A Guardian watching over them all.” She waves the book at me. “It’s part witch designations, sure, but part very human stories.”

She gives me a look of great significance in the exact same way she used to do when we were seven.

“I don’t recall you paying this much attention in English class. I know I didn’t. Maybe I should call up Sadie and see if she can explain the symbolism to me.”

Rebekah smirks, her piercings glinting in the morning light streaming in through the windows. “Will you listen if a twelve-year-old says it?”

“I can see the past just fine, and the only dragon I know is a newel post,” I retort, waving her out the apartment door and slamming it behind us, so I can lock it with a spell. “And this is Missouri. We’re fresh out of princesses.”

I don’t mention my Guardian.

Because he’s not mine, I remind myself, and this is when Ruth chooses to respond. With a derisive hoot.

“She goes to a sorceress to unblock her past. But look.” Rebekah stands on the landing and taps the illustration on the page, always the artist. I see a shelf of jars behind the sorceress. “This is all Healer stuff. Maybe you need a Healer to unblock you.”

I roll my eyes and head down the stairs and into my shop, Rebekah clomping down behind me in what look a lot like my combat boots. “I’m not blocked. I’m not a Revelare. I’ve never really seen any future stuff. Not the way you’ve dabbled in the past. Maybe you’re the Revelare here.”

“I am pure chaos and you know it,” Rebekah says with a grin, because we all discovered that she isn’t just any old Diviner—a rare enough designation in witchdom—but a Chaos Diviner. This makes sense, because Emerson is a Confluence Warrior, not just a regular Warrior like, say, Carol Simon. They’re special sisters, bound by prophecy and powerful witch blood on all sides. It would be weird if they weren’t somehow extra special.

---