The front door to my cabin creaked open, and Beck emerged from the porch and walked toward us. Out of instinct, I turned, keeping Fallon behind me.
“Are you out of your mind? You brought her backhere?” Beck asked, craning his neck to take a look at her. “Jules, she can’t be—” he lowered his voice, “—she can’t be here, and once the others find out, they won’t be … as accepting.”
I clenched my jaw. “The sun will be up soon, and I need you to do something for me.”
Beck crossed his arms over his chest, dropped his head for a moment. He dragged in a breath before peering up at me through loyal eyes. “What is it?”
I tossed him the keys to the Bronco, and he caught them mid-air with one hand. “Go to the Morgan property and check on Benny.”
“You honestly think that asshole will let me near him?”
“I can’t—” I started to say, then grit my teeth. I turned back to see Fallon sitting with a distraught stare, gazing into nothing. I took a step forward, clutched Beck’s arm, and led him off to the side so she wouldn’t hear. “I can’t bring her back there, Beck. I can’t do it. And I can’t leave her alone, either. Please, I need you to do this one thing for me.”
His brows twisted as he took a step back. “One thing? I’ve supported you through all of this, as a brother should. Without question. But this is a lot, man, and you know it. You know I would follow you anywhere. No hesitation, I’d die beside you in The Wicker Man. But what about Jolie? Your mother? Have you thought about them? The coven? Think about the people who are counting on you, Jules.”
I pushed my fingers through my hair, drenched in guilt and desperation. “Yes, I thought about Jolie. I thought about what was right and what she’d want me to do. Finally doing something with my fucking life rather than running away and hiding like we’ve been doing. Beck, I’m asking you, begging you. We don’t have much time. If …” I tilted my head, seeing Fallon looking out at the cabin in a daze, “If Benny’s still alive, he could confess in front of the Order that this was all forced, and I had no choice but to pull her out from the grave. It would be both Benny and Fallon’s word against theirs. The more witnesses, the better, and I need it to buy me some more time.”
“Still alive? And what if he’sdead?”
A silence settled over us.
“I can’t think about that right now. Just go, time is running out. You should be able to enter the house from behind. Take the stairs to the balcony.”
5:46 a.m.
The lantern hanging from my hook beside my front door, and the one at the back on the window sill, beamed a soft glow throughout the small cabin. Daylight crept in during the early hours, eating the pre-morning darkness. For a while, Fallon walked about the planked flooring as I watched her from the dark corner of the room. I’d told her Beck would take care of Benny to calm her nerves, yet her restless mind and heart couldn’t stay in one place. And I didn’t think she would be able to after the night she had.
Many times, I opened and closed my mouth, wanting to say something when her small voice carried throughout the cabin. “Maybe I shouldn’t have screamed. Maybe if I just stayed quiet and let them take me. If I never fought back, he wouldn’t have tried so hard to help me.” Her finger dropped from the mantle she’d traced and turned to look at me.
“Don’t do that,” I told her, shaking my head. I couldn’t stand to see her like this, and I knew it was ripping me apart because I felt it at the back of my throat, in my chest. “I’ve been there, in that place filled with what-ifs and what you could have done differently. It wasn’t your fault, Fallon. You were home. You were supposed to feel safe there. They should have never broken in like that and taken you from your sleep. This is their fault, not yours.”
“You should have heard him,” her voice shook, and her voice faded until it died. She sucked in a breath, and her chest expanded. “I’d never heard Gramps like that before.”
I could have said something to ease her troubled mind. Maybe something like,“Let’s not jump to conclusions,”or,“It will be okay,”but I couldn’t know or say it. I didn’t know if Benny was okay or if it would all be okay. I didn’t know, so instead, I led her to the back of the house, grabbed fresh clothes, and started her a shower.
While Fallon was cleaning up, I paced the cabin, waiting for Beck to return with news. I busied myself, started a fire in the fireplace, warmed milk in a saucepan over the gas stove, and stared out the fogged window at the back of the cabin in a daze. The magic I’d used had weakened me, and the only thing keeping me from passing out was Fallon being here. In my cabin.
Fallon Grimaldi was in my home, and it should have been a heated moment and not a time to mourn. Yet every second she was in my shower, I couldn’t help but fear the worst.
When Fallon emerged from the hall, I looked to her and straightened my spine. She was in one of my shirts. The bottom hem hit her mid-thigh and a pair of plaid pajama pants I’d never worn bunched around her ankles. Exhaustion set in her swollen, light eyes, and I didn’t know how much time had passed before I realized I’d been staring.
I cleared my throat, turned back to the stove. “I pulled some blankets and a pillow from my bedroom,” I told her, tapping the spatula against the stainless-steel pot filled with the Cyan blue hue. “I thought you would be more comfortable on the couch.”
Fallon nodded and circled the living room. “I won’t be able to sleep.”
“I know, but you have to try.” I turned off the gas and grabbed the cinnamon from the wooden shelf above the stove. “You need rest, and I promise to wake you once Beck returns with an update.”
If I were her, I wouldn’t be able to sleep either, but I’d noticed how she was struggling to keep her swollen eyes open. Fallon took a seat on the couch. She looked so tiny in the deep leather, and I poured the blue Majik moon milk into a mug and brought it to her. “Drink this. It will help, or, at least, I think it will. Maybe a little.” Fallon sipped from the mug and her eyes drooped closed. I raised my brows. “Do you like it?”
She nodded, took another sip. My shoulders relaxed. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Drink up and lay down. Beck should be back soon.”
I went to kiss her forehead and paused midway, remembering I wasn’t normal. That I couldn’t just do whatever it was I wanted, kiss her whenever I wanted. I was a cursed Hollow Heathen, forced to wear the mask of docility. An exhale drifted from my nose, and my forehead connected with hers instead.
I rushed through the shower and pulled on cotton pants, my mask. On my way out of the bathroom, I stole a glance at the broken mirror, deranged with cracks and missing pieces. A negative reflection of my soul. My chest tightened, realizing Fallon had seen the proof of my self-destruction.
When I returned to the living area, Fallon was fast asleep with the empty mug sitting on the coffee table. Perhaps it wasn’t only me who fell to the drink’s natural spell. The recipe had come from her mother, and it was then I remembered the story I’d told her. Maybe she remembered too, and her knowing that small piece of information comforted her in a way—made her feel her mother’s love in the time she needed it most.
The fire simmered to a low burning flame, and I grabbed the mug from the table when there was a soft knock at the door. I glanced back at Fallon, who was curled into the crack of the couch, and I walked quietly to answer.
