Page 103 of Midnights
Maybe I’m just overthinking things and my nerves are fried from everything that’s happened tonight.
Or maybe, I should stop drinking alcohol, because clearly, I'm not built for this.
I sink lower, letting the water cover my shoulders, as if that alone could wash away the buzzing in my ears. I should be relaxing. I should be clearing my mind and thinking about what an amazing day we've had. Or, I don't know, check on my best friend. Instead, my thoughts are circling back tohim.
I curse myself immediately for letting Kane take up even one more second of my night. He’s like a splinter I can’t dig out.
Kane McWalking Distraction is not my problem.
I tilt my head back, inhaling deeply, letting the scent of lavender fill my lungs. I just need sleep.One night and this castle has my head spinning.
Once I finally start to let go of the day’s chaos, and relax, I see a little shimmer out of the corner of my eye. I sit up, scanning the room, but all I see is my necklace on the nightstand.
Oh, the fire was making it look like it was glowing. It almost looked like it was breathing.
I blink, letting out a slow breath, shaking my head. But then it happens again. And just like before, the tingling in my hands starts up again, stronger this time.
I reach for a towel and cross the room.What if… You know what, never mind.
I pick up the necklace and the second I do, I'm on fire.
I can feel it crackling along my skin, making every hair on my body stand up, and I start to get a little light headed.
“What the hell,” I whisper, gripping the edge of the nightstand as the room sways around me.
A slow, hot pulse blooms in my chest, leaving a tingling wake in its path. My heartbeat slams against my ribs, and I'm honestly wondering if I'm having a heart attack.
I blink quickly, trying to anchor myself, trying to breathe through the dizziness, but it’s no use.
Then, like a lightning strike, a memory crashes through me like it was yesterday.
I’m curled up in the tub, and the steam is curling around me while I play in it with my fingers. My grandmother sits on the edge, and I can smell her from here. She always smells like lavender and honey.
The air outside had been sharp as knives. It's the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and refuses to leave. My muscles still ache, just thinking about it. I swam across the lake, just like I was told.
She hums softly while she works the conditioner through my tangled curls, her fingers always so gentle.
I sink deeper, letting the warmth chase away the cold.
“What are you humming, Marjorie?” My voice is thick with exhaustion.
She pauses before she smiles down at me, and I love the way her eyes crinkle at the corners.
“You know you can just call me Grandma, right?” She teases, but her fingers never stop their careful path through my hair.
I shrug, leaning back against the edge of the tub. “I know. But I love your name. It sounds special… so I want to say it as much as I can.”
A soft chuckle rumbles through her chest—my favorite sound. It's as warm the bathwater and as magical as the stories she always spun around me.
“Do you remember the story I told you about the witch who could catch lightning?”
I nod without hesitation.
This was her favorite story. One I already know by heart, but I stay quiet, letting her voice stitch the tale into the air again.
“She only wanted to fall in love,” she begins, keeping her voice low, so only wecouldhear.
“But she was cursed, you see, for she was powerful. Too powerful.”
