Even though that seemed deranged.
“But you don’t even know if it’ll work. You haven’t even tried,” she said.
And in answer he laughed, mirthlessly. He shook his head.
“Believe me, I have. I have. You don’t know it, but I have. And I just can’t let it go on any longer. Everything is getting worse. If I stop now they won’t go, but there’ll be fewer of them. There will be less, and you will be able to deal with them, I can see that you will be able to, and everything will be as it should be. Things will get better. Things will be fine.”
For who, though, she thought.
And couldn’t help protesting.
“But will they be better and fine foryou?”
“Of course they will, kid. I’ll be free,” he said, his gaze so frank and open for a moment that she struggled to disbelieve him. Plus, there was that word in there.Kidagain. Instead ofhoney. Like maybe he’d just had enough. Maybe he just wanted to let go. Not get the girl he wanted, not have to learn from her.
Be his own man for once.
A good thing, she told herself. And she felt it, too. She truly did.
She didn’t know what made her hesitate. “You promise me. On my soul,” she said, instead of theyesshe’d intended to give. And he held her gaze as he answered.
“Sure. Of course,” he said.
So she nodded, she nodded.
She smiled when he told her, “Good girl, you know it makes sense.”
Though she didn’t know that, really. In fact, all she felt was unsettled as they walked back into the cabin. And it wasn’t justher—Popcorn seemed to feel it, too. He was just standing in the middle of the living room when they got there, instead of being in his bed in the kitchen. Ready to say something, she thought.
Only he didn’t speak.
He barked.
He barked furiously, even though he hadn’t done that in weeks now. “Hey, use your words,” she told him, but he wouldn’t. Jack had to pick him up and shut him in the bathroom, all while muttering something about dogs not liking big spells and sensing these things.
And he was quiet now.
So maybe Jack was right.
It just didn’t feel like he was. It felt like he didn’t want to look at her.You better be telling me everything, she thought at him. But honestly she couldn’t imagine what it was that he hadn’t said. Whenever she tried to think, it was like groping in the dark. Like grabbing at something that looked like a thread, but turned out to be only a cobweb. Nebulous, already breaking apart in her hands.
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
“You ready?” he asked.
No, she went to say.
“Yes,” she said instead. Then he handed her a pen—not her pen, not any of her pens, but a darker color, heavier and cold to the touch. And when she held it up, poised to write on the air, it seemed to tingle against her skin. It made her think of something in one of the books Cassie had given her:Sometimes a talisman will speak to you more clearly and channel your magic more effectively.
Though if that was so, why hadn’t he given her this before?
It didn’t seem to be true anyway.
She wrotelet him be free, and got the honk of disapproval. She wroteunbind him from this pact, and still nothing but clownsounds. She even attempted to write his true name, in a way that made the world seem to blur and bile rise up her throat. The word was clear to the witch part of her, but unfathomable to her human self.
And she knew it didn’t matter, anyway.
Intention was the important part. Belief and emotion and intention. If she knew in her bones that this spell would be for Jack, it would be. She saw his true self, and that was what mattered.
