Page 64 of A Touch Charmed

There was so much I should’ve said to Thora before tonight. We’d put off too much in the name of making up for lost time, and now we were in danger of losing something far more important. I should’ve told her I was going to propose the day we got in that fight.

We hadn’t discussed concrete plans for marriage, but Thora was it for me. Period. Going all the way back to that day in the art room. I waited until the summer before her senior year because I didn’t want to get married until she finished school. I knew how much she wanted a degree that would give her options outside Warren’s influence, and I didn’t want her to feel obligated to come home before then.

But when she told me about the internship, it felt like she was slipping further away. She called me an asshole that day, and she’d been spot on. I crossed so many lines, it hadn’t been hard for her stepfather to manipulate our breakup. Part of me had been waiting for her to figure out she was too good for me for months.

If we’d been honest with each other about how tough the distance had been on us—so much tougher than I thought it would be when I kissed her goodbye the first year she left—maybe we could’ve avoided the blowup.

We were just as much, if not more, to blame for what happened to us as Warren and Olivia. If we had been solid, if we’d really been ready to get married, nothing they did to us would’ve mattered. We would’ve believed in each other.

It hurt like hell to admit we hadn’t been ready then. We’d been crazy in love, but we also had problems we needed to deal with before making that kind of commitment. I had to acknowledge that and own my mistakes. Because if we didn’t take responsibility for where it had gone wrong in the past, we had no chance for a future.

Love wasn’t just pretty words whispered in the dark. It was holding ourselves and each other accountable when we screwed up. It was forgiveness when we took genuine steps forward. It was trust. And it was a risk. But it was always worth it.

Up ahead, the ring of birch trees around the dead zone reached their skeletal branches to the night sky. This close to the center of the island, crickets had stopped chirping. No owls hooted. There were no soft flickers of light from fireflies. Not even the wind rustled the leaves.

The curse’s influence had leaked further into the forest. Flowers that had once been bright and blooming with color were now brittle and wilted. Bushes were little more than a dull collection of sticks, and once tall and lush grass had turned brown.

It wouldn’t be long before it spread to the center of town. It had already cornered us on the beach. The more strength it gained, the less it would rely on the cave as a base.

The full moon washed the dead zone in an eerie gray light. The man with the forked tongue had Thora wrapped up in black vines. As I approached, he began to untie her. I let out a breath of relief when she appeared unharmed. She clutched his arm. Her green eyes filled with sorrow. She looked… sympathetic. Like she was trying to reason with him.

I couldn’t hear what she said, but his face contorted with rage. He dragged her over to the cave. The solid granite slab was missing. Smoke rose from the open entrance as an earth-rattling wind echoed from its depths, raising the hair on my arms.

The man stopped at the arch and snapped Thora’s wrist. When she screamed, he pushed her limp hand over the diamond. But nothing happened. It wasn’t enough for her to touch the diamond, she needed me to activate her magic.

A rage like I’d never known clouded my vision with a red haze. I rushed through the tree line, not giving a damn if he threw snakes or arrows at me. All I wanted was to cause him ten times the pain he had caused her. I tackled him to the ground before he had time to register my presence.

He evaporated in a cloud of smoke under me.

“Finn.” Thora choked on a sob as she pulled me up. “You’re here.”

I wrapped her up and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll always come for you.”

She pushed her energy into me. Warmth flooded my system as Thora’s touch awoke my magic. My heart rate increased and speed flowed through my veins. It sparked my nerve endings and sent a rush of blood to my head.

The first shot was like a drug. If I wasn’t careful, I could become addicted to that feeling of watching the world slow to a near standstill.

Thora’s wrist snapped together. The small cuts on her face healed in slow motion, one stitch of skin at a time. The curse’s smoke hovered at the edge of the dead zone. Motionless. As if trapped on the other side of time.

The stars above me stilled, timeless and always observing. I could grab Thora and run, but the fear in her eyes stopped me. She had her mouth open, trying to speak, but it would take hours in my time bubble for her to get the words out. I backed off my magic.

She gripped my arm. “The man with the forked tongue is—”

A vine shot out of the trees and wrapped around her mouth and throat. Her face turned red as her eyes popped. She scratched at the vine, but that only caused it to tighten its hold. I pushed my speed magic, slowing down time enough for me to unwrap it and rip it to shreds. It flicked a few times in the dead grass, like a snake without a head, then stilled.

I resumed normal speed and reached for Thora, but a wall of smoke rose up between us. It whirled around me, creating a funnel of pitch black, thick enough to block out everything except the whispers drifting out of the fog. The voices got louder and louder as they burrowed into my head. Sharp needles dug into my brain, pulling up the dregs of my memories. The ones I barely thought about anymore because they were so separate from me.

My father swayed in the doorway of my dingy room. His shoulder knocked the frame and bits of plaster from the popcorn ceiling rained to the floor. “Got someone coming over tonight, pretty boy.” He narrowed a bloodshot eye. “If he brings cash, you might earn your keep.” When my face paled, he laughed. “Just kidding. You take things too seriously.”

After he walked out, I opened my window and crawled under my bed. I pulled half-crumpled cardboard boxes and a dirty blanket that smelled like cat pee next to the mattress, hoping it would disguise me, hoping he’d think I’d made a run for it if he did come into my room. I spent the night clenching my fists so tight, I drew blood from my palms while my racing heart pounded against my eardrums.

The smoke swirled faster around my head. “That’s where you come from,” it hissed in my ear. “You think you’re good enough for her? You think you deserve her? You can’t even keep yourself safe anymore. What makes you think you can do anything for her?”

“Not going to work.” In the distance, I could hear Thora calling for me, trying to get through the wall of smoke. It didn’t matter if the whole world thought I was trash. She didn’t. She never had, and her opinion was the only one I cared about.

The curse wouldn’t let me go with that, though. Another wind funnel, black as night, burrowed into my mind. Images flashed past.

Nights of hiding under my bed because my dad wouldn’t stop making jokes about selling me when he was high. Being brought down to the police station to be told my parents were dead, and the guilt I felt when I let out a breath of relief. Going hungry in foster care. Dodging bullets while I ran from a crack house with a fistful of cash. Getting drunk for the first time at eleven and waking up in a puddle of my own piss and vomit. All the worst parts of me flicked past my eyes like a movie of my life on fast forward.

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