‘People leave me presents sometimes,’ she said, kneeling down to pick through a pile of trinkets that sat outside the grave. ‘I can’t reach them through the fence. They put it up to keep me safe but they didn’t know it would trap me inside. They thought they were helping.’
‘People do that sometimes,’ I told her as she held her gifts up to the moon to inspect them more clearly, smiling with delight at each one. ‘They mean well.’
‘Yes, they do.’ A deliberative expression overcame her innocent face then she giggled, listening to something I could not hear. ‘Your father loves you so much,’ she said happily. ‘He didn’t mean for any of this to happen.’
Shaken, I blew a long, slow stream of air out of pursed lips while she carried on sorting through her treasures, unmoved.
‘This is for you.’
She held out a shiny glass marble, shot through with shades of green and grey and brown, the same colours as Wyn’s eyes. ‘Happy birthday, Emily.’
‘Thank you,’ I replied, slipping the marble into my pocket and rubbing my sleeve across my wet cheeks. ‘Take care.’
‘Goodbye!’ she called as I returned to the path. ‘Come play with me again soon!’
‘Hopefully not too soon,’ I murmured as I ran.
With clear direction, I pushed onwards, only glancing over my shoulder when I heard a rushing sound at my back. The river had burst its banks. A king tide, just like the one on the night I was born. Water swept into the cemetery and washed away my footsteps, swallowing up all the concrete footpaths so no one could follow. But who would want to?
Soon, too soon, I arrived at the Bell family monument. The sombre grey block of marble was still topped by the angelic statue but the flat slab of concrete in front of it had beenreplaced by a stone staircase, descending into pitch-black nothingness. The grotto chapel.
‘Oh, Emily.’ Catherine’s voice echoed, disapproving, through the dark. ‘You didn’t wear your gown.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I looked down at my dirty jeans and blood-stained shirt. ‘There wasn’t time to change.’
She stepped out from behind a neighbouring crypt, one that was much flashier than ours, adorned with crosses and bells and urns. Whoever was inside had done everything they could to buy salvation but I couldn’t help but think they were trying too hard. The same could hardly be said for Catherine. She looked spectacular, wearing a white silk gown similar to the one she’d had made for me, her long hair shining scarlet.
‘Is Ashley still alive?’ she asked.
‘Ashley is doing great,’ I confirmed. ‘Getting out of the house has done her a world of good.’
The corner of her eye twitched and I took a bold step forward.
‘I’m not going to complete the Becoming, so if you’re going to kill me, you might as well do it now.’
‘What makes you think I want to kill you?’ She looked completely horrified at the thought. ‘Honey, the only thing I want in this world is for you to Become. I’ve dedicated the last seventeen years to this moment, killing you is the last thing I want to do.’
‘But you were happy to kill my dad,’ I countered. ‘And my mom.’
Her eyes and the silver ceremonial dagger I saw in her hand both flashed with the same threat of violence.
‘I wouldn’t say “happy” but I did what had to be done. It was all for you.’
Circling away from the staircase, I kept my distance fromthe monument and stayed close to the trees, their reassuring voices rushing around me.
‘You’re sure about that? I think you might be doing it for yourself.’
Catherine weighed my question for a moment then shrugged. ‘I guess it’s a little of both.’
Just like Ashley said, two things can be true.
‘I’m still not going through with the ceremony,’ I declared. ‘I don’t want to be a witch. I want to be normal.’
‘There’s that heinous word again,’ she sneered. ‘Normal. As if you’ve ever been normal, ever could be normal. Refusing to go through with the ceremony won’t save you from anything, Emily, only destroy who you really are. Is that what you want? To kill a part of yourself?’
‘I don’t know, I haven’t had as much experience with killing as you have,’ I replied. ‘But if it saves someone I love, then I’m OK with it.’
‘And what about the things I’ve done to save what I love?’ she bellowed and the trees trembled. ‘The sacrifices I have made to protect you and this family? You will complete the ceremony, albeit in that ugly ensemble. Truly, I don’t know why I tried so hard with you. The ugly accent, the lack of style, like trying to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.’
