Shit.Shit.
For what felt like an endless moment, I panicked, my thoughts racing, my heart thundering, trying to figure out just what I could say to explain away this impossible situation; but my mind was an absolute blank. And then…
“It’s you!” Persi whispered.
My mind was racing to come up with an answer, but instead, a question exploded and derailed my attempts to explain. How did Persi recognize Jess? She had never seen her before—she hadn’t been at home when Jess came to Lightkeep Cottage, and she’d never seen her body before I’d restored Jess’ spirit to it.
“You know her,” I said. It wasn’t a question. Persi was looking at Jess as though she’d seen a ghost—ironic, given the circumstances, and yet it made no sense. How could she know this woman staring calmly back at her? “You know her,” I repeated. “How?”
“I’ve… seen her before,” Persi confirmed. “Who is she?”
“Wait, so you… you’ve seen her, but you don’t know who she is?” I asked, feeling more confused by the minute.
“Who is she?” Persi repeated, as though she hadn’t even registered my question.
“Shecan speak for herself,” Jess said a little impatiently. “My name is Jess Ballard. And you are?”
Persi’s face, already stricken with shock, now drained of all color. She swayed where she stood, and for a moment, I thought she was going to faint. Her arm shot out, and she pressed her hand against the wall of thecavern to steady herself. Unsure if she’d even heard Jess’ question, I answered for her.
“Jess, this is my aunt. Persephone Vesper. Aunt Persi, this is Jess Ballard who, as it turns out, is not actually dead.”
Persi was sputtering now, recovering both her voice and her penchant for ordering people around. “I don’t understand. I can’t… both of you need to come with me,” she said sharply.
Jess and I exchanged glances.
“Please,” Persi said, and there was sheer panic in her voice. “Now, before anyone sees us.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
Persi, who had already turned back toward the entrance to the cave, looked back over her shoulder at us as she answered. “You asked me how I know her,” she said, pointing to Jess. “Come with me right now, and I’ll show you.”
18
We followed Persi out of the cavern in tense silence. When we reached the woods at the edge of the parking lot, I paused only long enough to extract my phone from my pocket, and sent a quick text to Eva and Zale. It took three attempts, because my hands were shaking so badly I could barely type.
We’re out. Get out of there before they find you.
Then, I added,Eva you were INCREDIBLE. most badass waterworker EVER.
Zale replied with a thumbs up, and Eva with a string of heart emojis. I was dying to find out what was happening down on the beach, but there was no time for that. Persi had hijacked us, and we had no choice but to follow her. Jess seemed to realize we were at Persi’s mercy as well, because she made no argument as she trudged along beside me, her expression grim and distracted. I had a feeling her thoughts were still back in the cavern with the Geatgrima. She’d said there was something wrong with it, and I still didn’t know what that meant, but I had no doubt that’s what she was focused on as we hurried along in the dark.
It took us fifteen minutes of tripping and cursing and catching our clothing on underbrush until we finally came out near the back gardenof Lightkeep. I hesitated, utterly unprepared to face my mom and Rhi, but Persi didn’t head for the house. She continued instead to the gate, opened it, and then looked back at us, gesturing impatiently.
“Hurry! Before someone wakes up!” she hissed at us.
Jess gave me a wary look. I nodded in what I hoped was a reassuring way, and followed Persi’s already retreating form. Only the moonlight glinting off her jewelry served to mark her path through the pitch-black garden beds. I heard Jess stumble and curse a few times behind me, but we hurried on, past the wall to my mother’s garden, and along another path I rarely ventured down.
Because at the end of the path was Persi’s workshop.
And nobody went in Persi’s workshop but Persi herself.
I learned this lesson in one of the first weeks I was at Lightkeep Cottage. My mother was gone for the day, returned to Portland to deal with all the headaches of having to break our lease and move out of an apartment we’d lived in since I was three years old. I hadn’t yet started my training in earnest, and so I was using my abundance of free time to explore the place that was now my home. I’d learned the ins and outs of the house, as well as the main garden areas. I decided I would go down and explore the parts of the grounds I hadn’t yet spent any time in. Rhi had mentioned there were fruit trees, and I wondered what grew there, and if anything was ripe for picking.
I followed the path all the way out of the gardens, where it grew wilder and more untamed. Rabbits turned to statues at the sight of me, and birds sang their chirpy songs as they swooped from branch to branch, like they were warning each other about my invasion of their usually undisturbed haunts. I passed a greenhouse so overgrown and sagging that I knew it couldn’t possibly still be in use, and followed the remnants of a tumbledown stone wall until I found myself facing a small, vine-covered building. It looked like a cross between a potting shed and a fairytale cottage—the kind of place I might have imagined a witch living in, before I relocated to a town full of them. There were riots of blossoms growing all over the roof and walls, and a tiny, crooked metal chimney puffed little purple smoke rings into the air. The wallswere made of multicolored shingles cut to all different shapes and sizes, and there was a ring of perfectly smooth stones encircling the place, like a protective spell. I stood with my mouth hanging open, utterly enchanted, for at least a full minute before I rediscovered my will to move forward. Like Hansel and Gretel, I could not resist exploring this most unexpected and charming domicile, despite the decided lack of gingerbread and candy.
I hesitated on the doorstep—I knew I was still on Vesper property, because the boundaries of our land were marked with walls both physical and metaphysical. My mother had shown me the stone walls that looked like they were held together with sheer magic—and likely were—and warned me that the protections we had while at Lightkeep did not extend past those walls.
“Inside them, we are safe. Without them, we are vulnerable,” she had said in a sing-song voice that told me she was merely repeating the words that had been drilled into her from her own wild, barefooted childhood wanderings.
