It was all her fault.
Her mind spun again. With the Green New Deal dead, what was the point anyway? Even if they fundraised their asses off, it wouldn’t make a difference. None of it would. The world was hurtling toward three degrees warming, and she was powerless to stop it.
Her body flushed and her stomach churned. Her hands shook, and as she went to flip to the next card, the entire stack slipped from her grip. They scattered, and she dropped to her knees to scoop them all back up. Everyone was finally looking at the stage now, but for the entirely wrong reasons.
Anger flared in her chest. Oh, so it wasn’t worth their time to save the planet, but watching her crash and burn?Thatwarranted attention, apparently.
Without giving herself a chance to think the better of it, she stood back up and returned to the mic. “If I’d realized making a fool of myself would get your attention, I’d have started a lot sooner. Guess the future of the planet isn’t as exciting as the latest viral trend, though, huh?”
She froze. Had that really come out of her mouth? Her handsshuffled cards in a desperate attempt to figure out where she’d left off, but they were entirely out of order, and her mind raced right by the words, leaving them blurry and indistinct.
As the pressure mounted, she could no longer ignore the thrumming in her environment. It urged her to consider that there were other ways to handle this. Old ways. Powerful ways. A network of bright threads flashed in her vision.
There are spells to make them listen. Spells to make them act.
The trembling of her body intensified, and her breathing became uneven. The churning bile in her stomach threatened to spill all the way out. She clamped her teeth onto her bottom lip and shook her head.
I won’t do it. I refuse.
The thrumming cut out. The world dimmed. Her awareness returned to the room, and to the terrible, awkward hush that had fallen over the crowd. How long had she been standing there waging silent war with her instincts?
Her voice was small as she leaned back into the microphone.
“I’m sorry.”
As she descended the stairs two at a time, she took in Lorena’s expression of stunned disappointment and Dade’s knowing shake of the head, and shame crashed over her in a wave.
I did it again. I let everyone down.
2
A lingering sense of nauseating failure haunted Rowan as she dashed through SeaTac airport’s holiday crowds to make her connecting flight. It had been a rush through John Wayne as well, and she was still wearing her rented evening gown. She’d bunched up her skirt and held it high as she’d sprinted for the gate, like a Gothic heroine fleeing through the moors.
Her first flight had been spent repeatedly composing and deleting a resignation letter, then finally removing her work email app altogether. She’d tried to distract herself with her current read—A Mistletoe Murder,a cozy mystery set in the Green Mountains—but her thoughts kept going back to the scene of the failure.
Lorena had reassured her that most donations would come in at the end of the night, with more in the coming days via their website, but the rest of the crew had avoided making eye contact as she’d gathered her things.
It would be easier to quit than to face them all in the New Year.
Her path through SeaTac took her down familiar halls dressed in tinsel and colorful balls, past shops selling everything WashingtonState—smoked salmon and Sub Pop apparel and Aplets & Cotlets. She swerved to dodge a one-man-Santa band and the line of children dancing along to his clamor. Her pace didn’t slow until she’d boarded the train for her distant terminal.
There were only two other people in her car—a young couple wearing matching festive sweaters, all but merged into a single entity as they smooched at regular intervals. Rowan looked away and rolled her eyes, but then she crumpled, glancing at the empty seat beside her with a sigh.
When she’d told Dade she was going home for the holidays, he’d given her an expectant look, as if the next thing she was going to do was ask him to join her.
And that had been it. The moment she’d known it was over. He was the kind of guy who asked for little but gave even less, and that had seemed easy, until one day it wasn’t.
Bringing him with her would have meant exposing him to the fact that when the Midwinters talked about “witchcraft,” they were being neither twee nor metaphorical. They meant it. And at that point, one of two things would likely happen.
He simply would not believe it. Even when confronted with spellwork, he’d twist himself in knots to explain it away.
And if he did believe it? He’d freak out. This was true of all magic, but especially Rowan’s talent—magic of the mind.
And why shouldn’t it? How couldn’t you fear a person capable of altering your thoughts? Overpowering your will? Erasing your memories? How could you ever trust her?
And if you couldn’t trust her, how could you love her?
The train came to a stop, and the doors slid open. The couple disembarked, hand-in-hand. In their place, a massive man trundled abroad, settling down across from Rowan. He wore a sweeping coat of evergreen crushed velvet and a crown of holly. From his snow-white beard and matching hair, she assumed he was anotherSanta hired to keep exhausted children from breaking down during flight delays.
