‘Go,’ Catherine ordered the server and he ambled away, blinking in confusion at the debris outside the vault and rubbing his mysteriously injured shoulder.
‘I’m sorry, Emily, I didn’t know what else to do.’ She picked chunks of ice out of her tea and wrapped them in her napkin before pressing it to my face. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Like I killed someone,’ I whispered, me and the restaurant both shivering with an aftershock.
She was already pale but in the dim light of the dining room, Catherine’s skin was almost ghostly. The set of her mouth was grim and determined. Defiant or defensive, I wasn’t sure which.
‘You killed something,’ she corrected. ‘A wolf. A vicious, violent animal that hunted and attacked us. If you hadn’t acted, we would both be dead and, believe me, that creature would have shown no remorse.’
‘Maybe my dad was right to keep me away,’ I said in a broken voice. ‘I don’t want to hurt people, I can’t cope with any of this.’
My face was already streaked with tears and my eyes red and sore but my grandmother looked like a warrior, her calm elegance bolstered by the same fierceness I’d seen in Bonaventure.
‘You are a Bell witch. You will not cope, you will thrive,’ she declared. ‘Do you realize you just now caused an earthquake without even trying? That kind of strength hasn’t been seen in a single witch for centuries. Your magic is one of a kind but we cannot allow anything like this to happen again, do you hear me?’
The thrill in her eyes was more terrifying than the earthquake and the wolf combined. I gulped down my own panic, pushing it down, down, down, as far as it would go.
‘Yes, I hear you.’
‘Good,’ Catherine said. ‘You must stay calm, avoid heightened emotions and you must learn to take control of your magic, before your magic takes control of you.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
I felt him before I saw him. When I opened my eyes the next morning, I was huddled in the corner of my window seat, my legs numb from spending so long in such an awkward position. After we got home from dinner, I was too wound up to lie in bed, alone with my thoughts, and so I’d moved to the window seat and counted the stars instead. Now the stars had vanished and the sky was pale pink with dawn light when I looked out the window to find Wyn standing in our garden at the foot of the magnolia tree. His face turned up towards me like a flower searching for the sun.
‘Hey,’ he called quietly when I raised my window and stepped out onto the balcony.
‘Hi,’ I called back, the cool morning air soft and soothing. Was he really there? Was I dreaming? ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Something’s happened,’ he answered shakily. ‘I have to go back home. Now.’
The last traces of my dreamless sleep were washed away by the unwelcome rush of reality.
‘I’m coming down,’ I said. ‘Don’t move.’
Bell House was silent as I crept downstairs, muffling my footsteps and hushing the front door as it clicked open and closed. Outside, I found Wyn lingering under the pink flowers of a crape myrtle tree. He had his backpack over one shoulder and his hands in his pockets. The look on his face was agony and the short distance between us was too far. I closed it first, stepping into him and wrapping my arms around his waist. He smelled like he’d just got out of bed, a mix of hastily applied deodorant, laundry detergent and warm skin. We stood in the corner of the garden, holding on to each other without a word. He didn’t need to say anything, I could feel the conflict in him. Wyn’s hands travelled up and down my back as though he was trying to prove to himself I was definitely there.
‘My mom called,’ he said, murmuring into my hair. ‘It’s Cole.’
‘Is he OK?’
No answer.
‘Do you know when you’ll be back?’
‘I do not.’
His arms tensed around me, a soft, unbreakable cage. He was leaving. He was really leaving. There were so many things I wanted to say but all my words swirled around inside me with the right ones always just beyond my reach, so I held on to his flannel shirt instead, like I could physically hold him here, stop him from going anywhere, ever.
‘Please don’t leave,’ I begged but even as the words left my lips, I knew they were the wrong ones.
‘When my mom tells you to do something, you do it,’ Wyn reminded me. ‘I have to go. Unless you want to run away with me instead?’
I forced a smile and nodded. ‘Where are we going?’
‘I’d go anywhere with you.’
But he didn’t mean it, not really. His body language was already saying goodbye even if he couldn’t bring himself to speak the words out loud, the slope of his shoulders, the tilt of his head, the downturned corners of his green-grey eyes. I pulled back to take a mental picture but the dawn was too serene for the situation. I wanted anger, I wanted red, I wanted this isn’t fair, and why is it happening.
