“Stop. You did good. You did everything in you power. None of this is your fault. I would have fought against you every step of the way on this.”
“I know. But I still wanted to tell you that it was a wild ride. You definitely kept me on my toes. Without another Blackwell, I don’t know what this means for the St. Christophers. I don’t want to end up like Ocean.” He laughed a nervous laugh.
I side-eyed him. “Live your life for you for once. Find a girl.”
“A girl in this town?” He sighed, patted his knees before standing. “You have three more days, Julian Jai. At the next end of watch, I’ll make a visit so we can say our goodbyes. Read your family book, find reprieve for your soul.” He hung back for a few more beats, unsaid words hanging in the air between us.
Then his footfalls echoed inside the tunnels, and I watched his boots as he walked away, promising myself to inform Jonah of Stone Danvers, and where he could find him, before I would be burned. Without me, the coven would need Stone. That was, if he was still alive.
I’d been tortured before—numerous times—but nothing had prepared me for what I’d been experiencing these past four days. When I was at the academy, I’d read about a man who lost his arm at sea. It had tangled with the pot warp while lobstering, cutting off blood circulation for far too long. His arm had to be amputated. Years had gone by without his arm, and still, he felt the presence of the missing limb. He could even feel the pain of where the arm once was. ThePhantom Limb Phenomenon, another unexplainable mystery.
And now I understood what it felt like to feel something that was no longer here. The sensations my body remembered, the pain it now endured even though parts of me were missing. Perhaps they were missing before her too. And the phantom of her touch would always be there, haunting my soul.
I had to force my eyes to stay open to read. The pages flipped between my fingers as I spent my last days losing myself inside the Book of Blackwell. I read about the journey from their old home. The five Heathens were once men the coven respected, loved, looked up to. Honored. The five carried their coven through bitter winters, refusing to give up or stop or quit until safety was found. They’d sacrificed food so the others could eat. They carried those who were weak, made cots for the dead, leaving no one behind. The five had to swallow their emotions for the sake of the others because it was the rest of the coven who depended on them, looked tothemfor strength.
I’d read, through the eyes of Horace Blackwell, and how he’d discovered the land before it had become Weeping Hollow. He’d written about the Order, and how it came to be on the year’s coldest night. He’d written about the first time he cried when the first baby of Weeping Hollow was born. Bellamy Blackwell. His son.
Woven in every page, in every line, I read of nothing but unconditional love and the lengths he’d gone for his son to protect him and the coven. I didn’t stop reading, discovering how our coven used to be, the vision I’d always imagined it should have been.
Eventually, the book’s narrative had changed from Horace to Bellamy, and Bellamy reminded me much of myself. His defiance, his loyalty, his misunderstood love for the woods. It was as if I were reading myself, and I couldn’t find the will to stop.
I became immersed in the story of Bellamy and Sirius and how their relationship unfolded. The secrecy, the unrequited acceptance by no other, but the very thing they had found in each other. My eyes, it pointed out the mistakes they have made, their folly, their desperation.
But it wasn’t until after Sirius died, and I came upon Bellamy Blackwell’s last journal entry when everything made sense. It wasn’t until then that everything clicked. I didn’t have to read the rest of the book to know what I had to do, what I needed to do, what Bellamy should have done.
The revelation hit me like a storm.
After closing the book, I sat there in a blank daze, my eyes bouncing back and forth as I tried to comprehend it all. My heart hammered inside my chest. My muscles were flexing under my skin, wanting to run and run and run. The burning need to scream lodged in all my hollow places––my lungs, my chest, my throat, my head.
I was wrong all along. Clarice Danvers was wrong. Everyone was wrong.
I had the answer, and it was here, in the Book of Blackwell the entire time. Bellamy had always known, but no one would have been able to figure it out without experiencing a love like ours for themselves—
“Julian!” My name tumbled through the tunnels, and I snapped my eyes to the sound, seeing Kioni running toward my cell. Her eyes were big and wild and scared. “Julian!” She was out of breath, clutching her side.
The Book of Blackwell fell from my lap as I jumped to my feet. A guard grabbed her by the arm, began pulling her away. “Kioni, what happened?” I shouted, every cell in my blood turning into a pulse and slamming against my skin as I waited for a reply.Please, do not let it be Fallon. “Kioni!”
“Julian, please, I woke up this morning, and she was gone!She’s gone, Julian!She knows!She knows about everything!I can’t find her anywhere! You have to find her!” she cried out, thrashing against the guards to break free.“JULIAN, YOU HAVE TO … OR SHE’S … TO BREAK THE CURSE!”Her screams muffled, and panic enveloped me when another one of her pleas echoed throughout the tunnel.“HURRY … FALLON IS GOING TO DIE!”
My hands were gripping the poisonous bars, but I couldn’t feel the burn. My entire body was on fire by each one of Kioni’s blood-curdling cries. Fallon knew, and a thunder ruptured inside me. Fallon knew everything! and a scream rolled throughout the tunnels in a deafening tidal wave.
Fallon was going to break the curse all on her own.
My chest burned, and my scream’s force took Kioni and the guard to the ground, knocked out cold! It was as if I’d gotten hit by lightning, and the lightning had come from within me—an amplified power bursting from my chest!
And it all happened so fast. My second wind had come. No one was safe.
My body vibrated, a fierce hum inside this silver pocket of space I’d created.
With my body locked inside this halted time, my clenched fists moved through the bars. On the inside, my body felt like a million frayed wires that had come alive, a beam of silver light twisting and turning and jumping with the most intense sensations. But on the outside, it was as if I was wearing my soul as my skin, able to pass through anything.
Taking a step forward, I passed through the bars as the tunnels still pulsed in my ear-splitting scream. I couldn’t hear it, but I felt the buzzing of it all around me, the drawn-out boom inside me.
I moved so strangely on a different wavelength than the rest of the world.
And I took off running, knowing exactly where my girl was, and what she was about to do.
I just hoped I could get to her in time.
