Or be with Julian. Preferably, with Julian.
“I don’t really know. Walk around the square, I guess.”
Kioni’s jaw dropped. “No,” she shook her head, “You just ordered a Wicked Death Wish. You will be beside yourself. You cannot justwalkaround town—” Our drinks were up, and we both slid the paper cups off the counter. “Today, you will join me.”
“Join you?” I smiled, brows raised while bringing the cup to my lips, and a waft of something that smelled like maple, cinnamon, and graham cracker exploded through the tiny hole opening of the coffee.
“Yes.” Kioni pushed open the door, and the cold came at us from all sides. “It will be a good day.”
“Have you ever felt like everything inside your body wants to leave you. Like your heart is pumping so hard, and it’s horrible … as if it senses danger is near. But you can’t move. When you feel like you have to throw up?” I asked Kioni as we laid on our backs, staring up at the back wall of the hardware store where she got lost in her art, her thick black lines.
Over the brick, she’d drawn with some paint chalk,Lie Lie Land. A bouquet of black balloons beneath it.
“Yes. Yesterday. When I had my morning dose of Wicked Death Wish.”
I tilted my head, the black words so sharp, her lines so clean. “What does it mean?”
“My every fine day, moonchild. So, you feel like you have to throw up?”
“Moonchild,” I moved my head from side to side with a groan, “Yes, I feel like I’m fucking dying. Like my whole body is like …Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!” I stretched my fingers out at my sides, sweating, but my sweat ran cold. “But then my heart is likeba-boom! Ba-boom! Ba-boom!I want to runsofast, get it out of me. You drink this stuff every day?”
“Wow, you’re definitely under a caffeine high.” She laughed, then it faded. “Yes, every day. When you grow up in a world where life is controlled and planned, you find resilience. Mine is Wicked Death Wish and art. We’re all addicts, but my addictions aren’t in secret. They’re for all to see.” Kioni turned to me, grinning.
I envied the way she seemed so comfortable in her skin, with her thoughts, lying on a sidewalk, not needing anyone. The way she was so much on display, so confidently her own person—the kind who didn’t need to be accepted by anyone.
Kioni seemed like the girl who could say no, set boundaries. The kind of girl who could say yes, too, because she wanted to. The kind of girl I strived to be. The kind of girl who could just tell Julian that yes, I wanted him to come tonight. That I never wanted him to leave. But with his arrival always came his absence, andoh, how I hated his absence.
And suddenly, a wave of resentment toward the Order and Sacred Sea flooded me. The very ones who were keeping Julian and me apart. And Julian had been right, none of them from the Eastside dove off the cliff after me. For the past two months, they did nothing but push their coven on me, made me feel like the third-wheel or someone to fill the background. I closed my eyes, deciding I needed a break from them for a while, to figure things out.
After the Wicked Death Wish side effects wore off, we jumped to our feet and said our goodbyes, promising to meet each other for coffee again. Being around Kioni was easy. She made me feel as if we’d been friends our entire lives. No pressure, no rules, no ulterior-motives. A feeling where I didn’t have to watch my back.
I stopped at Agatha’s Apothecary on the way home, picked up Gramps’ tea, and spent the rest of the day taking care of the old crank. Mina came by for dinner, and while she kept Gramps busy, I cleaned his room and changed his bed linens. Once Gramps fell asleep, Mina Mae and I drank moonshine on the back porch, listening to the ocean. A light misty rain kissed our faces, black clouds rolling in the night.
Julian said he was coming tonight, to be ready, but I couldn’t let him risk—whatwouldhe be risking exactly? What did the tunnels entail? I turned to Mina, who had her eyes closed as the rocking chair creaked. She was so relaxed, her face wrinkled with wisdom, a few generations full of knowledge. Maybe she could help me better understand.
“Do you know anything about the Order?” I asked fast before I chickened out.
Mina’s eyes stayed closed when she answered, “Yes, I know about the Ordah.”
“If someone doesn’t follow the rules, what happens to them?”
“It depends on who doesn’t follow the rules. Are we talkin’ about a flatlandah or a witch?”
She’d said witch so casually as if it were a thing so normal. As if it were a gender or a race. “For a witch.”
Her eyes opened, and she looked at me. “Javino Blackwell was the last witch punished. Yah have to understand the balance of ordah is the one thing protectin’ this town, keepin’ it hidden. Witches of the covens are expected to keep the peace. We are fair, Fallon, but sacrifices must be made to keep the shield intact if a witch goes out of line.”
“What happened to Javino? What did they do to him?”
“Yah askin’ a lot of questions. Yah sure you’re ready to know?”
No.“Yes.”
Mina hummed in the rocking chair, bringing the mason jar of the golden liquid to her lips. After she took a sip, her lips smacked together, and she closed her eyes as if to bring herself back to a distant time.
“Javino was a good man. Those Blackwell’s got what’s called a darkness inside them, but Javino fought it. Until about twenty-four years or so ago. People started goin’ missin’ around town. Then little Johnny died. Little Johnny, such a sweet soul. Everyone knew little Johnny, much like when Julian was little, the kid was everywhere. Always laughin’ and yellin’ and in yah face. Had to be the centah of attention. So, when little Johnny died, the whole town just got quiet, yah know? No one could look past it. The town wanted answers. Then Javino stepped forward, admitted it.” She shook her head. “I’ll never forget the pain in his eyes. The curse taking his son was enough punishment, in my honest opinion, but not for the Ordah, and not for the town.”
“What did they do to him?”
