Page 38 of The Witches of Cambridge

“See, I told you,” Lauren mocked. “You’re not bad. Not one bit.” She wished that he were, then he would be what she was looking for, someone who would make her suffer. He was too good for her, that was the problem. He was something she didn’t deserve.

“Yes, I am,” Carrick vowed. He stood up, looming over her, wearing old jeans and boots and a T-shirt spattered with ink and blood. A couple passing by on the way to their parked car gave him a startled look, and when he glared back at them, they walked faster, looking over their shoulders.

Lauren smiled faintly. She stood on tiptoe so she might kiss him. “Not bad enough,” she said sadly. She was certain of it. She had the sight, she knew that he suffered from regret, as she did. There were those who said he was a monster, but in fact he was too kindhearted; he went out of his way for people, checking in on the older people who lived in the apartment across the lane to make certain they had groceries, once a month visiting his brother’s grave at the Cambridge Public Cemetery, where he stood and cursed himself and wished he could roll back time and change what had happened. Lauren had lost faith in people when she was young, and she was certain it would be impossible for her to ever care about Carrick.

“I can be worse,” Carrick told her. “Ask anyone. If that’s what you want.”

“You can’t be,” Lauren said sadly.

Goliath, someone from the neighborhood called out from the street just to taunt him, but the jeering fell flat, as insults do when no one replies. Even though Carrick was still trying to convince Lauren that he was a truly cruel and ruthless man, he didn’t yell back at the name-caller. “I can be terrible,” he still swore, but neither of them believed it, and Lauren was already walking away. “See you,” she said, making sure the words sounded more like a goodbye than a promise.

After all, she was the one who was terrible.

Once she was back at Lilith House, Lauren got into bed without bothering to undress. She didn’t even remove her shoes. She fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of a monster who hid beneath a wild cherry tree. He was waiting for her, but she stayed in the branches. She went so high that no one could find her. The world was a place in which love could strike unexpectedly at the wrong time, in the wrong place, with the wrong person. If she’d known Carrick’s full name she could have written it on a piece of paper and burned it or hammered three nails through the paper and placed it in a bowl of hot water, and he would no longer have mattered. She wanted him to disappear, but she knew he was still there, sitting on the topmost step on a side street no one walked down after dark, except for the stray cats for whom he set out bowls of food when no one was looking, for if any of his neighbors spied him doing that, they’d get the wrong idea. They’d think he was someone with a heart.

Ava’s suitcase was set beside the door. She and Jamie had decided to defy their parents and remain in Cambridge, and although she hadn’t heard from Jamie for several days, she knew he was often late. Eventually, he’d appear. He’d run down the street, he’d shout out her name, and that would be that. She thought of the story Jamie’s mother had told him, of the wife who had lost her partner who had turned back into a crow, how she’d desperately tried to call him back to her, tying bells and ribbons to a tree. Ava felt more and more akin to the mortal wife whose husband had flown away, never to be found. A story can tell you what to do when you don’t know how to live your life.

On the night before Lilith House was shuttered for the summer, Ava took the keys that were always left in a bowl by the door and went out onto the lawn. She tore her white nightgown into thin, ribbony shreds, then climbed into the hemlock tree, where she tied the ribbons onto the branches and attached the keys. The wind rose and the keys rang out like bells. She sat there waiting until the night was almost through. By then the sound of bells had woken Lauren, who stumbled upon Ava in the hallway as she went to her room.

“He’s not here yet,” Ava said.

Lauren wasn’t surprised. Her grandmother had told her that the Mathers had done something so terrible they could never be forgiven.

“He’ll show up,” Ava said. “I just have to wait.”

Ava lay down on her bed for a moment and fell into a deep sleep. That was when Lauren heard someone calling. She unlocked the front door, certain of what she must do. The scar on her hand flamed red as she stepped outside. There was Jamie Mather, beneath the hemlock tree of a variety that was entirely poisonous, stems, leaves, and bark. All the same, it was a sacred tree, one that could help you get your bearings and provide shelter. Protecting her friend was the only thing Lauren had on her mind. She went out to where Jamie was waiting.

“I have to see Ava,” he said, his tone urgent. Most students had already left for the summer and the city was quiet. Long ago, this had been the time of year when the wolves came close to town, and when that happened, even the iron fences couldn’t keep them out. “I’ve been up in Sudbury all week, arguing with my family, trying to get out of going to Wyoming,” Jamie went on. “I missed a final because of it and had to make it up today.”

He hadn’t bothered to change his clothes, and his long hair hadn’t been cut; his beautiful face was strained with worry. Lauren could see why Ava had fallen for him. He looked like an angel standing there, but angels can be dangerous and dark, and those who have fallen are inclined to inflict pain upon others. Lauren had decided that she would be the one with the sword and shield, the one to dispose of the danger he would cause to Ava. Sometimes being terrible was the only choice.

“I’ve given up on trying to make my parents see the light,” Jamie told Lauren. “I’m staying no matter what. I want Ava to meet me this morning. We don’t need anyone’s permission to stay together. I’ll be waiting in the Common. I just need your help.”

Falling in love with the wrong man could break you in two if you weren’t strong enough. That was likely what had happened to Ashton, and Lauren didn’t want her friend’s heart to be trampled. She’d watched from her window as Ava tied ribbons to the tree, then climbed down in her undergarments, scraping her hands and knees, bleeding for love, becoming a fool. Lauren had never had a friend before, and she intended to protect the only one she’d ever had.

Jamie reached for a notebook in his backpack and tore out a page. He took a pen and quickly wrote down his thoughts. They would run off together. It was time. “Can you give her this?” he asked Lauren.

“Cross my heart,” Lauren promised, easy enough for a woman who was convinced she didn’t have one. “Hope to die,” she said.

Jamie grinned as he awkwardly embraced Lauren. “I won’t forget this,” he vowed as he backed away. Lauren merely nodded, for a promise can mean different things to different people.

When Jamie turned to leave, the ribbons threaded through the branches of the tree unwound, falling to the ground like white birds. You make a choice and there you are, all alone in the dark. Help someone or hurt them, expect the best or the worst, every decision you’ve made will come back to you and change your life. Lauren watched Jamie walk across the grass thinking of all that his family had done to women like them. By the time he was gone, she had already torn the letter in two.