More ominously, the number of crows has doubled to an even dozen, their shiny black-feathered bodies sitting silently on the wrought iron fence and perched in the tree that now seems to be leaning forward slightly. It’s… eerie.
And that toothache feel of magic is stronger. But again, not like someone is actively using magic—more like the sense of it in the air, an echo. Which means powerful shit.
What the fuck. The cemetery has literally been there for centuries. I’ve passed it weekly, if not more, for years. None of this makes sense. But clearly that’s the place to start.
Devon pulls to the curb and parks a couple of houses away from the barricade, then cuts the engine.
“What do you think?” Devon asks, tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel.
“The cemetery,” I say.
He nods in agreement.
“But the cops aren’t going to let us close enough to get in through the main gate,” I say. “Obviously.” And I don’t particularly love the idea of getting arrested—or “detained”—again. “But there’s another gate on the far side.” I’ve passed by it a thousand times on the way to Happy’s. “I don’t know if it’s locked or what, but we could try it. That might get us in without being quite so obvious.”
Devon and I get out and cross the street to the opposite side, closer to the cemetery, in silent agreement.
“You know the one thing you haven’t tried?” Devon says conversationally.
I’m pretty sure I’m not going to like this. “What’s that?
“Claim Beecher. Town, campus, whatever.” He shrugs as if it’sno big deal. “If it’s your territory, that might help dissuade some of the smaller challengers.”
Like Gym Bro, JT. I wince.
“And maybe it would help clear… whatever this is.” He gestures vaguely to our surroundings.
“You feel it too?”
He shudders. “Hard not to. It’s grown so much stronger since I first arrived.”
Which is weird because I never feltanythinglike that until after Lennie died, and I know he was here before that. But maybe I was immune to it, kind of like how you don’t smell your own perfume after a while?
“It’s a reasonable idea,” I admit reluctantly. I just hate that any suggestion he makes feels like a trick or a possible deception, especially when he’s looking over at me with those clear green eyes, all guileless and straightforward.
It makes me feel guilty, and thenthatmakes me extra suspicious because I know how guilt can be used to manipulate.
On a related note, it is entirely possible I’m very screwed up.
“I don’t know how,” I say. Because I never wanted to know. Never wanted to be tempted, kind of like how my mom avoids chocolate by not buying it. If you don’t have it in the house, it’s easier not to eat it.
This also explains my tendency to hoard Oreos and dark chocolate in any form. Generational Disordered Eating for the win. But whatever.
“As I understand it, it’s sort of the opposite of feeding, you just push instead of pull, and as territory is understood as the literal earth…” He mimes placing his hand on the ground.
My last attempt at pushing magic into Izzy had not goneparticularly well, so I’m not super eager to try it again, even with just dirt. Plus, claiming Beecher as territory is more than just putting my stake in the ground, metaphorically speaking. For a while—months, years?—I won’t even be able to leave. Not to go home to Chicago, not to go to a concert in another city. I’ll be stuck here, within the borders of my territory, defending it.
But even beyond that, it’s a permanent tie. It’s a signal that I’m committing to this life, even if I am not committing to being the new Death.
Except… haven’t I already done that? I just blew up my life as normal human Jocasta Trelane by telling Chessa and Carter the truth.
I guess some dim, dumb part of me is hoping it can all be undone. That they’ll learn to accept me as I am and we’ll all go back to, I don’t know, Friday nights at Happy’s.
A ridiculous thought, given that the Friday nights at Happy’s started at my instigation so I could feed on Lennie and others with ease.
“I’ll think about it,” I say to Devon, as we round the corner by the Theta Iota house.
He’s quiet for a moment, then he says, “That’s a conflict-avoidant way of saying no.”
