‘Mr Ellison?’
‘Mr Ellison,’ he repeated with the same groan I’d heard from Ashley. ‘No, thank you, I just want to hear the good stuff. I reckon I’ve learned something new about my family every time I’ve been to one of these things. Savannah is pretty fascinating, even if you aren’t the descendant of a centuries’ long line of all-powerful witches.’
‘Technically, you are the descendant of a long line of all-powerful witches,’ I reminded him. ‘Only your line got cut.’
‘Thank God.’ He looked down at his feet. ‘Nothing against witches in general, but can you imagine Lydia with magic? No one would be safe.’
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I nodded. Once they’d been pulled into the Bell family mess, it hadn’t felt right to keep the truth about their own family from the Powells. Their ancestors had been witches, just like mine, but somewhere over the years, their connection to the blessing was lost.
Jackson rubbed a hand over the scruff on his chin. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and he looked older than he did when he was clean-shaven, more rough around the edges. It suited him.
‘She’s obsessed, you know? Convinced you must have a way to bring it back.’
I did know. Lydia asked me about reviving her family’s lost magic at least once a day, every day.
‘My grandmother told me once the blessing is gone from aline, there’s no way to find it again,’ I said softly. ‘So don’t worry too much. Lyds won’t be levitating down your street any time soon. There’s nothing I can do to change that.’
‘Good.’
His eyes hardened and the word fell from his lips like a stone. I couldn’t blame him. After what he’d seen, after what Catherine had done, it made sense. Magic was dangerous and who would want to put someone they love in danger? Not Jackson. Not me.
‘Full moon tomorrow.’
I looked over at him, surprised.
‘No need to look so shocked, Em,’ he said, finding his easy smile again. ‘When you find out there are giant magical murder wolves masquerading as people twenty-seven days out of the month, keeping an eye on the lunar calendar seems like a pretty sensible thing to do.’
‘True,’ I admitted, more than a little uneasy at his definition of a Were. ‘You really do have a wild selection of hobbies.’
‘Basketball, local history, defence against the dark arts. Colleges like to see a diverse mix of extracurriculars.’
He hopped up to his feet, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his hands deep in his pockets. Discomfort rolled off him in waves and I prickled at the unease in his posture. What was this? I didn’t think it was humanly possible for Jackson to look this uncomfortable.
‘I should get going, this was only meant to be a quick detour on my way to the meeting,’ he said, poking at the step with the toe of his sneaker. ‘I wanted to ask if you might do me a favour.’
‘Of course, anything.’
His eyes lit up.
‘Oglethorpe Country Day has its annual varsity fundraiser tomorrow night – kind of a getting-ready-for-the-new-school-year thing? It’s basically a dance. They have a band, a photobooth, killer food. All my friends are going. We get to hang out while the school tries to screw our families for money.’
‘Sounds … fun?’
The rising inflection at the end of my sentence was intentional. Did it sound fun? I wasn’t sure. Jackson stretched his arms up over his head and wrung his hands together as though he didn’t know quite what else to do with them.
‘So much fun,’ he said. ‘Only problem is, my date cancelled on me.’
‘Someone cancelled onyou?’ I couldn’t believe it. If Lydia was to be believed, no one turned down a date with Jackson Powell. Well, there was one exception to the rule.
Me.
‘Want me to put a curse on them?’ I said, joking. ‘Pretty sure I’m not supposed to, but I’ll give it a go if you like.’
‘Are you sure you didn’t already? She texted me from the hospital: she has appendicitis. She’s OK but not in much of a dancing mood.’
‘You want me to try to heal her?’ I asked, not quite following. ‘Because if she’s in the hospital—’
‘No, Em,’ Jackson cut in. ‘I was thinking, if you’re not busy, if you wanted to, you could come to the dance with me.’
