“I…I don’t really know the details. Marissa told me that her grandmother needed help with a spell to save a sick child and your family wouldn’t help her. There were rumors you come from a long line of really powerful sorcerers. The kid died. Marissa made it seem like you were dangerous and needed to be stopped.”
“You believed the wrong person. And look where that got you.”
Gemma starts to cry again, and I feel a little bad. I understand wanting a family more than anything. I really do. But not at the cost of innocent lives.
“I’m so sorry, Ace. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but please know I’m so, so sorry.”
I close my eyes in a long blink. “If Marissa thought I was so bad and wanted revenge, why didn’t she come after me herself?”
“She said you had an army of demons guarding you. That’s why she sent the ghouls. And when you…you…”
“When I didn’t die?”
“Yeah. When I saw you the next day, I was so relieved you were okay, but Marissa said it was proof. There’s no way a witch could fight them all off. Something is protecting you.”
“What she called demons are more like angels. She got one thing right at least. They are protecting me, and fighting off those ghouls was child’s play for them. The only thing holding them back from going after everyone involved in this is me asking them not to.”
Gemma casts her eyes down, and I’m starting to feel torn. I’m mad at her. She was wrong. At the same time, I can see where she’s coming from, even though it doesn’t offer an excuse.
But does it mean I can forgive her?
“Where is she?” I ask, and Gemma knows who I’m talking about. I stopped by Marissa’s house before I came here, ready to rip her to pieces myself. Legally, though, not physically. She planted false evidence and is facing jail time. But her house was empty and she never showed up for work.
“I don’t know. I called and she didn’t answer. I thought she’d come see me.”
“Do yourself a favor and move on. She never cared about you, Gemma.”
Someone else knocks on the door, and Gemma’s Amish aunt and uncle rush in, throwing their arms around her before they start scolding her for moving away and into a dangerous city.
Gemma introduces me as the police officer who saved her life, and her aunt and uncle thank me over and over.
“You should come back to the farm,” her aunt tells her, brushing her hair out of her face. “Enough with this nonsense. It’s time you come home.”
I look Gemma right in the eyes. “I think that’s a good idea too.”
* * *
I sink onto my bed,tired, sore, and fighting off a killer headache. I can’t get Gemma’s words out of my head. My family had magic. We’re rumored to be powerful.
They refused to help.
Why? They had to have a good reason. If there’s truth to this at all. Tears fall from my eyes, at first out of anger.
I’m mad at myself.
At Gemma.
At my family for keeping magic a secret from me. Didn’t someone realize it would all come crashing down at some point? And if that someone knew…they could have saved my parents.
“No,” I say, and wipe away a tear. They didn’t know. Because if they did, then that changes everything. Pushing off the mattress, I go to my closet and pull out that stupid book I bought from Lyra. The section from my grimoire about summoning spirits has yet to be translated, and I doubt anything in this mass-produced book is correct. Still, I’m going to try it. If I can talk to my mom, just for a minute, I can get all the answers I need.
The book says I need a mirror, three white candles, sandalwood incense, and an object that belonged to the deceased. I get everything I need and take it upstairs, holding my mom’s necklace in one hand. I light the incense and the candles and look down into the mirror.
“I summon you, spirit, to cross the veil,” I whisper over and over. I clutch the necklace and look in the mirror.
Nothing happens.
I try again. And again. And again.
