Joel rose to his feet and began pacing around his room, gathering candles from the shelf beside the desk and placing them systematically on the floor. He routed through a dresser drawer and pulled out a box of matchsticks.
“You can light,” he said, tossing the matchbox to Maggie.
She caught it and crouched over the first of the candles that Joel had placed on the floor. She drew a match across the box’s striking surface and it fizzed and crackled to life. She bent to light the candle, feeling the flame’s warmth creeping ever closer to her thumb and forefinger as she waited for the flame to take hold of the wick. Her palms began to feel clammy, though not entirely because of the heat.
She inhaled deeply. “This all feels so. . .”
Joel looked up from the page he was skimming. “Final?” he supplied.
Maggie shot him a questioning glance. “Strange, more like,” she amended as she began working her way through the rest of the candles that Joel had carefully arranged in a zigzag pattern on the floor.
“If it’s too weird for you, the spells and witchcraft and all that—”
“No,” Maggie cut him off. “It’s not that. I want to do this. I’ve just. . . never done anything like it before.”
Joel closed the journal and placed it on his bed. “If it helps, you won’t actually have to do anything,” he said. “You might not even see anything. But if you do see anything. . .” He paused and cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“What?” Maggie prompted as she struck another match. “What might I see?”
“Well, it’s possible that the spell might move through me. And if it does, then I might seem like I’m in. . .”
“In what?” Maggie pressed, lighting the final candle.
“In pain,” he clarified. “But it won’t last long. So don’t be scared, okay?”
Maggie’s mouth went dry. “Okay.”
Joel smiled. “You never know,” he teased. “You might get a kick out of it.”
“What, seeing you in pain?” She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t hate you that much.”
He grinned. “I don’t hate you that much, either.”
Maggie returned the smile.
“Right,” Joel said, clearing his throat again. “So, take a seat.”
Maggie obliged, once again taking up her perch on the edge of the bed. She grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest, peeking over the top.
Joel stepped into the centre of the candle arrangement. The flames created long shadows across the floor and walls, caging him in. He began reciting from memory.
“Blood of my brothers,
A witch’s call,
Blood of my fathers,
A witch’s fall. . .”
Maggie glanced towards the balcony. The wind beyond the glass French doors was building, driving through the rusted railings and shaking the trees in the forest beyond. She shivered as Joel went on reciting in a faraway tone.
“A spell cast in darkness,
A spell bound in light,
Break the connection,
Brothers, hear my plight.”
The balcony doors burst open, almost tearing from their ancient hinges. Maggie let out a cry and clutched the pillow tighter to her chest as Joel suddenly dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. The candle flames reared until they towered over his stooped form, their shadows wrapping around him like dozens of black cobras.
Maggie stared at the scene before her, frozen in fear, as Joel continued his chanting, his words escaping in a rasp now.
“Unbind and unseal,
Broken, it shall be,
Blood of my soul,
Set the marked free.”
A gust of wind extinguished the candle flames just as Joel dropped face down onto the floor. The shadows slunk back, recoiling over his body until they had vanished completely. The last of the wind ruffled Maggie’s hair as it retreated back outside.
Maggie’s heart felt as though it were in her throat. She didn’t dare move.
“Joel?” she managed in a tiny voice.
He lay on the floor, silent and motionless.
“Joel?” she tried again. The word sounded insubstantial as it escaped her lips.
He groaned in response. Weakened, he rolled onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling.
Maggie gingerly rose from the bed and, still clutching the pillow to her chest, approached Joel. She stared down at him for a long moment, not sure of what to say.
“Are you okay?” she managed at last, gently nudging him with the toe of her shoe.
“Mmm-hmm,” he mumbled unconvincingly.
Maggie lay on the floor beside him and trained her eyes on the long crack that split down the centre of the high ceiling.
“That was amazing,” she whispered. “I mean, really incredible.”
He rested his hand on his heart. “Yeah,” he murmured. “It feels like it worked.” He smiled to himself.
A warmth spread through Maggie. “Incredible,” she said in awe. “You are. . .” she trailed off, afraid of what she might reveal.
She wanted to tell him that he was incredible, and wonderful, and all those other words that encapsulated him at the moment. The overwhelming desire to tell him so rocked through her like the very gale that had torn through the trees just seconds earlier. “You really are a witch,” she said instead.
Joel nodded his head.
“It must be wild,” Maggie concluded. “Being a witch, I mean.”
For a moment, Joel said nothing. When he finally replied, his tone was careful. “Sure,” he said. “I don’t know any different, though.”
Maggie blushed. “No,” she agreed. “I suppose not.”
“We’re a family of witches,” he explained. “We always have been, and we always will be. That’s just the way it is.”
“Was your mum a witch, too?” she asked without thinking
“No,” he answered bluntly.
Maggie winced. “Sorry, I—”
“No,” Joel interrupted. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like talking about her.”
“Okay,” Maggie said softly.
When he spoke again, his voice had lightened. “You know, I never thought there’d be a day that you and I would hang out again.”
Maggie smiled shrewdly. “Are we hanging out? I thought this was strictly business.”
Joel laughed. “It is.”
Maggie laughed, too. She suddenly grew aware of how closely she was lying next to him on the floor. And how she wanted to be even closer.
“What’s it like?” she asked quietly. “Being you, I mean.”
He rolled his head to the side to look at her and offered her a lazy smile. “Most of the time, it’s good.”
“Oh, yeah?”
He was quiet for a moment. “I see things,” he said after a while.
Maggie propped herself up on an elbow. “You mean, like visions?”
Joel licked his lips nervously. “No, not visions, exactly. More like colours. And feelings. Things that other people don’t seem to notice.” He paused, uncertain, then carried on. “Take you, for example. Right now you’re. . .” Again he paused, allowing his gaze to wander over the length of her arm and up to the very top of her head. “You’re a pale pink right now. It’s. . . it’s nice. It makes me feel. . .”
Maggie held her breath. “What?” she whispered.
“It makes me feel good,” he finished.
She exhaled softly. “What does it mean?” she asked self-consciously, picking at a splinter in the floorboard. “Am I always pale pink?”
Joel laughed. “No,” he said with a grin. “Definitely not. You change all the time, depending on your mood. You’re always kind of shimmery, though, which is also nice. But this colour,” he said, gesturing to the air around her, “is more gentle. And you’re not always gentle, believe me,” he added with a wry smile.
Maggie felt her cheeks grow hot. “So, what colour are you right now?”
He smiled as he looked down at
his own hand. “Purple.”
“And what does that mean?” Maggie prompted.
“Fear,” he replied truthfully.
His answer took her by surprise. “You’re afraid of Kaden?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Maggie met his eyes and he held her gaze. She wanted to ask him what he was afraid of, but she couldn’t find her voice.
“Now you’re afraid, too,” Joel murmured, his eyes still locked on hers. “Can I take it away?” he asked quietly.
Maggie blinked at him. “Take what away?” she said in a weak voice.
“The fear,” he replied.
She managed a nod.
“You have to say it,” Joel told her. “Invite me.”
Maggie swallowed. “Take the fear away.”
Joel drew in a long breath. Then, very slowly, he reached out and placed his hand against her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, relishing the comfort of his skin on hers. Her cheek began to tingle and her head grew fuzzy. As her eyes fluttered open, she was sure she saw a faint indigo glimmer trickling over Joel’s arm, moving away from her and into him.
She felt calm all of a sudden. At peace. Her heart rate slowed and her body felt light.
“There,” said Joel, finally dropping his hand.
In a dreamy state, Maggie reached up to touch the spot on her cheek where his hand had just been.
“What did you do?” she asked, sinking back down onto the cool floorboards and gazing up at the ceiling once more.
“I took it away,” Joel said simply.
“Where did you put it?”
“It’s here,” he said. He looked down at something unseen in the palm of his hand, then made a fist as though he were squashing it. “How do you feel?” he asked, looking down at her with a nervous smile. “I’ve never done that to a human before.”
“I feel. . .” she began, searching for words. “I feel calm.”
“Good. You look it.” He released a tense breath and laughed. “I mean, you look. . . pink.”
She laughed, too. She gazed up at him, wishing he was closer. All she had to do was reach out to him, he was so near. But her eyes were heavy all of a sudden, and then she was falling asleep.
MAGGIE AWOKE TO the sound of a door banging somewhere inside the old mansion. She sat bolt upright, detaching herself from the deep sleep that had claimed her for the last who knew how many hours. She looked around Joel’s room. It was dark beyond the balcony, and the drapes were stirring gently in the cold evening breeze.
Beside her, Joel sat up, too. He was wide awake now. Sober.
They both were.
Joel stood up swiftly, shaking off the sentimental expression he’d been wearing earlier.
“I . . . uh . . .” he stuttered. “I think I made us too calm.”
Maggie rubbed her bleary eyes. “What time is it?”
Joel glanced to the moon, which was hanging high in the ebony sky. “I think it’s safe to say that it’s night time.”
Maggie groaned. She took her cell phone out of her pocket and touched the screen. It flashed 12:06 a.m.
She groaned again. Joyless will be on the warpath if I’m not back in my room soon, she thought.
Joel paced to the bedroom door and peered out into the upstairs hallway. “Maximus?” he called out in a barbed voice.
There was no response.
“All clear,” Joel said, poking his head back into the bedroom. “Come on, let’s get you back to the dorm.”
She followed him into the darkened hallway and down the stairs. Just when they’d cleared the broken third step, a frail voice reached them from the direction of the kitchen.
“Joel, my dear?”
Maggie watched as Joel frowned.
“It’s my aunt, Ruby,” he explained. “She only comes out at night.”
“What, is she a vampire or something?” Maggie joked.
“I don’t really know what she is,” Joel replied offhandedly.
Maggie shuddered. “Well, the fear’s back.”
Joel shot her a quick grin. “Relax. Of all my extended family”—he used air quotes around the word family—“Aunt Ruby is the least offensive.”
“How hard could it be to be less offensive than the Incredible Psycho Madam Emerald?” Maggie muttered.
Joel grabbed her arm and led her down the last two steps. “Come on. If we’re lucky, maybe she didn’t hear us—”
Suddenly, a tiny silver-haired lady was standing at the foot of the stairs, a wooden spoon clutched in one hand.
“Ruby,” said Joel as he led Maggie the rest of the way down the stairs. “This is Maggie.”
Ruby broke into a toothless grin. “Oh, I see!” She gave a rattily chuckle.
“Nice to meet you,” said Maggie, trying not to grimace.
Ruby scuttled towards Maggie and gave her a quick hug.
Although Maggie was frozen like a startled rabbit, Joel seemed pleased by the interaction.
“She likes you,” he whispered. Then he cleared his throat and raised his voice to address Ruby. “What are you making?” he asked, nodding at the spoon in her hand.
“Soup!” she replied quickly.
Joel rubbed his hands together. “Nice,” he said. “What kind?”
The elderly woman shot a brief and surreptitious glance at Maggie. “Just your ordinary soup. Nothing to see here.”
Maggie cast a glance into the kitchen and caught sight of a huge black pot boiling away on the stove. The ingredients piled up on the kitchen counter didn’t look like any ordinary soup ingredients that Maggie had ever seen before. She tried not to retch at what looked like a pile of dead rats heaped up on the work surface.
The sound of a car engine arriving outside interrupted her thoughts.
The wooden spoon that Ruby was clutching in her tiny hand suddenly dropped to the hardwood floor with a clatter. “They’re here,” she rasped under her breath.
Joel visibly bristled as he glanced towards the front doorway. Male voices were drifting in from the mansion’s front porch now—one of which Maggie recognised as belonging to Joel’s older brother, Evan.
Then the heavy front door swung open and Evan was standing there beside by a middle-aged white-haired man whom Maggie took to be Maximus Tomlins, a man she’d never actually met before.
The newcomers greeted them, eyeing Maggie with curious intrigue. Evidently, they weren’t used to strangers in their home—especially at this late hour.
Joel didn’t reply to his father’s greeting. “Who’s looking after Pippin?” he asked instead, his tone clipped.
Evan looked awkward for a second, then busied himself closing the front door.
“Topaz is caring for Ainsley and Pippin,” Maximus replied casually. “They’ll be home soon, I’m sure.”
Joel gave way to an angry breath. “They’re not home? It’s past midnight,” he said testily. “Pippin’s four years old, for god’s sake. He needs a regular bedtime. He needs sleep—”
He cut his sentence short, as though abruptly remembering that Maggie was observing the entire exchange.
“Forget it,” he muttered. Then, turning to Maggie, he said, “Come on, let’s go.” He took her arm and steered her towards the front door.
Maximus had already wandered into the kitchen with Quite Old Aunt Ruby, leaving the conversation behind. Evan remained standing steadfastly in front of the front door, his eyes glued to his brother.
“Where are you going?” he asked Joel.
“I’m taking Maggie home,” Joel said distantly.
“Are you coming back?” Evan asked.
Joel led Maggie past Evan to the front door. “Of course,” he muttered as he ushered her outside.
Then the sound of the door slamming behind them echoed through the bitter cold night.
MAGGIE FELT A strange mixture of relief and sadness when Joel pulled the Jeep into the school parking lot and cut the engine. Relief because he’d gotten rid of the curse, but sa
dness because that meant their time together was over. They’d go back to being acquaintances, and she’d watch from the sidelines as he and Lexi formed whatever whirlwind relationship was on the cards for them.
Joel eyed her now as she unbuckled her seatbelt.
“Is everything alright?” he asked.
Maggie blushed. “Why, what colour am I?”
He bit his lower lip, trying and failing to hide a smile. “Green.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
He turned his attention to the steering wheel. “It means that you’re. . . that something’s bothering you,” he answered vaguely.
Maggie drew in a deep breath. “Nope,” she said. “I’m fine. Great, actually, seeing as I’m not cursed anymore. Thanks for that, by the way,” she added lightly.
“No problem,” said Joel as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Come on, it’s late. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”
“You don’t have to,” said Maggie, gazing beyond the vehicle’s windscreen to the high stone wall encircling the pathway that led to the boarding house.
“I want to,” he told her.
Before she could protest again, he opened his door and stepped out into the deserted parking lot.
Maggie climbed out of the Jeep after him, and together they began towards the orchard that separated the school from the boarding house. Their footsteps fell in sync as they walked, crunching over the remnants of the autumn leaves.
Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.
“Thank you, Joel,” said Maggie at last, her voice full of meaning this time. “You. . . you didn’t have to.”
Joel glanced at her wryly as they passed one particularly twisted apple tree. “Oh yes, I did,” he disagreed. “Otherwise you’d never stop harassing me.”
Maggie forced a smile. “Well, I can assure you that I won’t be harassing you anymore.”
Joel fell silent. “Okay,” he replied after a while. “Good to know.”
They neared the boarding house’s huge oak door. As Maggie rummaged around in her shoulder bag for her key, Joel stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, his gaze moving along the old building’s grey stone walls.
“Home sweet home,” he remarked.
“Yep. Home sweet home,” she echoed, hearing a familiar sadness in her voice.