Page 47 of Magpie
I am running down the stairs and flying through the front door before my thoughts can catch up to me. Sean calls out to me as I sprint down the old country road, but I don’t stop. I have no idea where I’m going, or even how I will begin to live this life without Alister, but I hold close to the only certainty I have:
I got out.
I come out of the memory, looking at the crystal ball in front of me. Opening my tightly curled fingers, I see the iron key in my hand. A single tear drips down my face. I don’t scrub it away, but I also do not let any more fall. I am done crying for Alister. I have been for a long time.
I sit up straight the moment I feel his presence. It strikes me how easily I recognize it, though I’ve long since stopped counting the years since we last saw each other.
Sighing, I push away from the table and stand. I take my time walking to him. I meander through my store, trailing my fingers over the various shelves and crystals, whispering to them for the last time. I let the memories of the goodness and light of this store fill me, hoping it is enough to cleanse the taint on my soul. Hoping I added something good to this world, for all the evil I let loose on it. I shut the lights off in each room as I leave it behind, plunging the store deeper and deeper into darkness, until at last the only one remaining is the porch light at the back of my house.
I stand before the screen door, staring at it as I gather my courage. There is no bustling city street or back alley behind my store, but rather a lush, verdant garden, surrounded by a thick wall of hedges. Taking one last steadying breath, I push the door open, and step out into the night.
Crickets sing a quiet chorus around my secluded garden, lulling me with their song. Coming to a stop in the middle of the space, I look up at the moon. It has been quite some time sinceI’ve allowed myself out at night. I forgot how serene it is. How peaceful.
“Hello, Irina,” he calls from behind me.
It doesn’t startle me. I felt him approaching, so I do not take my eyes off the moon as I say, “Hello, Ronan.”
He walks around me, coming to a stop in front of me, and I finally pull my gaze away from the night sky and focus on him. He hasn’t aged a day in the centuries since we last spoke, but then again, neither have I. I can’t help but think of that last time, when he warned me against ever creating those keys. When he warned me about Alister.
“You’ll be happy to know you were right,” I say. “He didn’t change.”
“Nothing about this makes me happy,” Ronan says, his lips tilted in a grimace, his eyes hard. “But I made you a promise, and I keep my word.”
“I know. I remember.” My gaze traces the lines of his face and the complicated emotions passing through his eyes. It was always like that with us. Complicated. Giving him a sad smile, I whisper, “Just give me a moment.”
“Take all the time you need, Irina. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
I close my eyes, inhaling deeply the scent of the midnight jasmine and the other night-blooming flowers. I’m not sure why I packed this garden with blooms that are best admired under the light of the full moon. Maybe it’s because, even in the serene quiet of this new life, I couldn’t let go of the night and the life I lived within it.
“Do you think she’ll be able to do it? Do you think she’ll be able to put an end to Alister?” I ask, keeping my eyes shut. I’m too worried to find the answer in his expression. I’m not entirely sure I know which answer I’m hoping for.
“I think if anyone has a chance of doing it, it’s her.”
He doesn’t say more. He never was a man of many words. I suppose that is as much of an answer as I deserve.
Taking one last deep inhale, I open my eyes and smile at him. “Okay. I’m ready.”
His face is cold and barren as he holds a hand out between us. I might be walking peacefully down this road, but I assume the journey is not so easy for him. The burden of power never is. Reaching out, I place my key in his hand, never once taking my eyes off his.
“I’ll see you on the other side, Ronan,” I say, watching as he pulls the key up to his face, gripping both ends tightly. Turning my eyes to the moon, I smile.
The last thing I hear is the snapping of my key as Ronan breaks it in half.
It would be just like Alister that the moment I want to find him, he suddenly becomes impossible to locate. Glancing at the clock on my laptop, I see the hour ticking close to 8:00pm. Night has fallen, and still, I remain seated in this diner, alone and unbothered thanks to the bills I continue to slide across the table to the waitress. A shift change happened, but she must have alerted her replacement to our agreement, so the new waitress fills my cup, takes my money, and keeps the booth in front of me empty. She even chased off a group of rowdy teenagers that tried to occupy it.
I sip from my freshly filled mug, although I am already jittery with the amount of coffee I’ve inhaled in my hours at the diner. My foot taps a relentless beat on the ground as I scroll through the message boards, just for something to do. The House should be calling to me, pulling me back into its twisted web. Ronan said as much about the time I left. I resist the urge to touch the luna key, wondering if it’s behind this. Is it shielding me from the House, blinding Alister to my location?
“Well, that’s really fucking inconvenient,” I hiss to the key as I exit the forum I’m on, hopping into a chat server dedicated to locals in the area trying to find the Wandering House. I have no doubt it is close; Ronan did not just spit me out in this city at random. My eyes skim over the ever-scrolling chat. I scowl at the vague hints and clues the users who have discovered the House are giving. It’s a rite of passage to find the House on your own, like some fucked-up scavenger hunt where the prize is punishment.
Sighing, I scrub my hands across my tired eyes and stretch my arms above my head, trying to work out some of the tension in my muscles. I’m massaging a spot on my neck when I get apingon the server, alerting me of a private message. I pause. I only made one comment on this particular server, blatantly asking if anyone knew the confirmed location and was willing to share it with me. I didn’t care that I was instantly pounced on by an army of internet strangers all jumping over each other to tell me how I was ruining the experience of the Wandering House by not finding it for myself.
I already found it, you idiots. I’m trying to make sure it doesn’t find anyone else.
I refrained from typing that and several more colorful comments to the users who had been particularly rude to me. I don’t want to attract attention from people who would only want to question me on my “experience.”
I look suspiciously at the small red dot over the envelope icon, the image of the unread message glaring back at me. Chewing on my nail, I move the cursor over the icon and click.
I can take you there.
