Page 86 of Truly Madly Magically

“Her past is blocked. That’s not the same as me.” I don’t know why I’m so insistent. Or why I suddenly wish Elizabeth was here to back me up, when she’d likely be as contrary as anyone.

I’m not a Revelare.

My unique characteristics that have helped us out are all because of Bill. There’s no way I also have some mystical designation no one’s ever heard of. Besides, wouldn’t I feel it if I had access to the future that way? I have enough trouble envisioning the future I can already feel as a solid, growing weight inside my belly.

“Maybe your future is blocked.” Emerson considers. “Elizabeth thinks you should see the future as well as the past, and she seems right about most things.”

“It could be that the story’s not so much a direct representation but a reflection,” Georgie offers. “A little symbolism.”

“Well, when Jacob and his family are doing the ritual with my blood to help the Summoners, he can dig around in there and unblock me. Problem solved.” I get up again, because I don’t know what to do with this. Any of this. Zander’s arm. Revelares. It’s too much. I look over at Jacob. “When’s that going to be?”

I don’t get the outburst from Zander I’m hoping for, and Jacob takes his time answering, with that deep patience of his that makes me want to scream.

“The best and safest time would be as close to Samhain as we can get,” he says in his measured way. “Problem is we’ll have the actual ascension to work around. We’re still trying to determine how to manage that, but it will be very close to Samhain before we can do it safely.”

“Great. Okay. Well. I’m tired, so—”

“Something like what the sorceress does in this story, however, could be done at any time,” he continues. Somewhat pointedly. “At the next full moon, for example.”

It never occurred to me that anyone would take a children’s book this seriously.

I’m not a Revelare. If they still existed, there would be more of them, but there aren’t. And if there were, they wouldn’t be half human.

Still, I can understand why my friends want this. They’re desperate to believe that another one of us is something special the way Rebekah and Emerson are because that might give us an edge in this ascension.

Maybe I should push for this ritual too. Because if Jacob tries to unblock me, they’re all going to finally get it through their heads: I am not special.

Elizabeth is not right about that.

“I’m going to bed,” I tell my fairy tale–addled coven. Then I pop myself upstairs to my room because I’m done. A pregnant woman deserves a good night’s sleep. I definitely need—

My door opens. No knock. There’s just Zander.

I try to slam the door on him with my magic.

This, of course, doesn’t work.

“Why are you so edgy?” he asks, but not in any sort of accusatory way.

Though I could certainly twist myself into believing he was accusing me of something. If I tried.

“I’m n—” I narrowly resist kicking the wall. “I’m almost always edgy.”

“Almost,” he agrees, with that gleaming thing in his gray eyes.

As much as I should put a stop to this, sex would be better than dealing with why I feel so churned up about a silly book.

When he crosses to me, he doesn’t take off his shirt, or mine. He doesn’t pull me into his arms or get his mouth on my lips, my neck.

Instead he says words I don’t want to hear.

“Baby, I know you’re afraid.” I want to swing at him, but he smooths his hand over my hair in a way I do not find soothing. I do not. “You have it in your head that you crumble under pressure, but look at what you did today. You were amazing.”

“With Elizabeth’s help,” I say.

“So what if you had help? That was still all you today, standing up in front of the Joywood and the town and the whole world, saying those words and asking those questions.” He tips my head back so I have no choice but to look at him. He stopped caring if I look mutinous long before we turned sixteen. “If you’re so big on giving Elizabeth credit, she thinks you’re a Revelare. Why not listen to her on that too?”

Because I already know, I want to tell him, and for the same reasons as always. The whispers that have always followed me around.

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