We all had a story. They said our pasts didn’t define us, but they did. My past molded me into this. It had been the reason I’d changed courses. At the age of fourteen, I’d begun to understand why there were rules in place. I’d begun to appreciate and follow the code, respected the Order. I didn’t just play along for the sake of breaking the curse. I’d ingrained the rules into my brain because I’d seen how being myself could endanger lives. I’d become the mask I wore.
Before Johnny died, I’d pushed limits because magic and ignorance flowed in my veins. I’d once been a boy who ran naked in the woods, howled into the night, wasted time with the boys, laughed, played, and made mistakes. I’d had it all—before Johnny died.
Because I was once too wild and too free.
Since I was Dad’s first-born son, I was the only hope to continue the bloodline of the spirit element. Dad was of no use anymore, and the perfect Heathen to take the fall. It was up to me to continue the Blackwell bloodline by having a son, and it couldn’t be severed like the Danvers had.
I was the only hope, or so Jonah had explained after I’d confessed to sending the letter to the Order to admit my guilt. Jonah had intervened and retracted my confession before it reached the wrong hands, more than willing to sacrifice Dad’s life after the recent killings he committed—because of our shadow-blood. It was the perfect lie.
And I’d lived with insomnia until Fallon’s return.
Now, she would be gone too. But it was for the best.
I was one of the cursed. Being a monster was my birthright.
I skipped a stone across the surface of the Atlantic. The sun peeked across the horizon, just a soft wink of pale yellow. I felt her pull like the way the moon pulled the tide. She was here.
I turned to her. She stood feet away, watching me with an admiration I could not understand. She was wearing a large sweater covering those little shorts she usually wore, her long legs taking up more than half her body. She was always one way or the other. She was either pajamas, free of make-up, hair a tangled mess, and innocence on display. Or, she was brand-named denim, expensive shoes, every strand in perfect place, and stubbornness in the way.
But I would take Fallon whichever way I could have her. It was possible she felt the same in return. Perhaps she would take me whichever way she could have me,my shadow-blood too, until she let it kill her.
Fallon walked closer, her eyes bouncing below to the rocks before she stepped onto each one. Once she was at my side, she held out her hand. I dropped a few stones into her palm. We faced the sea again.
We continued to skip the rocks for a long time, allowing her quietness to shape us into one.
The moon and sun shared the same sky for a while. The same way we shared the same rock we stood on.
“I can see ghosts,” she said so suddenly into the space between us. Into the air. I didn’t know how she did it, how she spoke so freely. I envied that about her. “I’ve never told anyone before, but it’s true. I can see them. Talk to them. Most times, help them. There was one I could never help, though. I never knew his name, but I don’t think he did either. He had white hair and black eyes. He was always so cold. Almost like he was frozen.”
Beck was right, and this didn’t surprise me. Fallon was just like her mother.
Fallon could speak to the dead. I stayed quiet, listening.
“I think a part of me never wanted to help him because I never wanted him to go away. He was my only friend for a while. But then one day, he never returned, and I never understood why. I don’t know if I even gave him peace, and it makes me feel like I failed him …”
I opened my mouth to interrupt her, knowing where this was heading, but nothing came out.
“I’ve seen Johnny,” she stated, and my head fell back under the sky with a sudden intrusion of emotion. “He’s not here when you come to the ocean, but he hears your messages.”
I clenched my fist. The stones pierced my skin, drew blood. “I don’t want to…”do this,I wanted to finish off.
“Julian, he forgives you. He knows it wasn’t your fault. He loves you so much,” she whispered.
I squeezed my eyes shut. My past sliced me open, my baby brother beating against my chest at the memory with the slamming of the waves.
Johnny Blackwell, my little brother who’d feared the water. My little brother, who’d feared the ocean would swallow him whole, and eventually, it did because of me.
“He’s been with you this whole time, and he’s so sad when you’re screaming.” At the corner of my eye, she turned to me. “The whole world’s sad when you’re screaming, Julian.”
His frantic limbs had scurried in my arms as he gasped for air, choking on his nightmare, the sea of my face stealing his breath.
Why couldn’t we escape it? Why couldn’t I break us free?
He’d been too small, too weak, too fragile to climb out of his fear. My hands shook as I lost myself in the memory. With all the power in the world, I was utterly powerless! My throat burned, remembering the scream that had ripped through it.
“I killed him,” my whisper broke as my confession slipped into the morning.It was me. I did it. I killed my baby brother.“I didn’t mean to do it!” I turned with my arms at my sides. The stones fell from my hands.“I’M SORRY, JOHNNY!”I screamed, scanning the ocean, the cliffs, hoping he could hear me. Words tumbled from my lips, but my mind was in a fog. Winds thrashed against me, the sun now blinding and dangerous.
I didn’t remember the rest before my knees hit rock.
