Page 196 of Vying Girls
I should be spooked, all things considered.
Alone, in the middle of the forest with night pressed around me, and only the lights from the moon, the moth trap to my right and far off floodlights.
But I just feel excited.
There wasn’t much to set up, but I wanted to make it special.
The scent of hot wax wafts up to me. The circle of candles is haphazard at best, emanating from the foot of a gnarled oak tree—a rarity in this forest. I tense every time the wind blows, already having relit the candles multiple times. Even in the dead of summer, this island is cool at night.
In the circle lies a nest of rose quartz and dried rose petals. In that, a pink candle, a ball of red twine and Nic’s grimoire, open to the page I want.
I turn in the centre of the candles, wondering if I’ve already messed up by entering before I’ve opened the spell. Then I decide it doesn’t matter. This is our ritual. It’ll work as long as we believe in it.
And we do, all of us, I’m sure of it.
I texted them a while ago that I was ready. Now I wait, shivering in my witch dress which seemed fitting at the time.
Through the trees, the moon is full and high. As rare as the oak tree is a cloudless night on Hazelhurst. It makes me feel blessed, something I’ve been feeling nothing but these last few weeks.
Is this our happy ending? Finally? Definitely feels like it. The monster’s gone. Taken to prison, Fina said, without a stop to the hospital to deal with his shattered foot.
As much as I’d felt relief, there’d also been this shivery sensation, looking into Fina’s dark and all-too-powerful eyes. I felt like a flea, a nuisance, maybe some kind of entertainment for her. I’d heard her say something to Nic about favours, about having to pay them back. I don’t know what that means, if anything, but I do know I’d never want to find myself on her bad side. I knew the Zaccaro family were influential, but it seems they’re a law unto their own too.
I wonder if he knows. Zaccaro. I can’t imagine that sort of ‘favour’ flies under the radar. There has to be records, surely. I doubt Tommy will keep Damien’s whereabouts from his mum and sister forever. I only hope forever is how long he rots there.
At any rate, he won’t be walking normally again. Something that panicked me at first, swift, hot regret following a mere second after I’d fired the shot. It had taken Blakely pinning me to the labyrinth wall with one meaty hand, telling me tochill thefuck outuntil the panic subsided. Damien deserved nothing less but the idea of rotting in a cell alongside him hadn’t appealed.
Well, it’s been weeks now and nothing’s happened, so I think I’m good.
And I’ve found my Nicole. I have Elly and Haz, and, for now, the skin on my thighs is smooth.
The wind picks up, ruffling the hem of my dress. I close my eyes at the sensation of it on my legs. No underwear tonight. My lips tick up thinking of how well that’ll be received.
Despite the cold, I feel all primal and feminine tonight, some of that power I used to feel as a kid surging through me. Women and the moon. There definitely is a magic to it, I’d just forgotten. But we’re friends again, me and her.
I’m relighting the candles when I hear the snapping of twigs and Haz’s not so subtle voice. My heart thumps, my stomach doing a little roll. Happy nerves. I’ve still got them for all three of them.
Haz spots me, sauntering over in her grey joggers and tank, a thick chain gleaming on her chest.
‘Hey, little witch.’ She runs her eyes appreciatively over my dress, the candles at my feet. ‘Fuck yeah, sacrifice.’
I spot Nic in my periphery, dumping her tent bag, a sizable axe strapped to the back of it. She catches my eyes briefly, a smile shining in her own. She looks around the clearing, no doubt deciding where to pitch up.
‘Ay up,’ Elly says, hands in her blue jeans pockets as she comes to a stop at the edge of the candles. ‘What’s all this then?’
‘What’s it look like?’
She hums, looking over the artefacts on the floor. ‘Something very Tilda.’
I take her hand, dragging her into the circle. Haz follows, spinning the bracelet on her wrist. So cute how she still wears it. It’s become her favourite fidget toy.
‘We’re doing a spell,’ I tell them.
‘Are we now?’ Nic joins us, pushing her hair back as she spots her book on the floor. It’s getting long, flopping over her face. ‘Love spell, hm?’
‘Obviously. What else?’
She glances up at the sky. ‘Full moon, too.’ She catches my eyes. ‘Someone’s been planning.’
