Page 67 of You’re So Vein

I should have asked one of the girls to go with me. It’s not too late. If I called, one of them would come.

A twig snaps.

I whirl around, my heart in my throat. “Is anyone there?”

Just then, a black raven flutters out of the bushes. It fixes me with orange-rimmed eyes and raises the tip of its wing in silent greeting.

Mina’s husband, Quoth. She must’ve sent him to watch out for me. He swoops over and drops something from his beak into my hand. A small pouch tied with string and a note that says “from Dora”. A spell bag.

I don’t know what’s inside, but when I slip it into my pocket, I feel marginally better. My heart still races too fast, my limbs are still shaky, my whole body still screams at me to run, but I’m clear-headed enough to push through it.

Of course, I should have known I couldn’t hide my fear from Dora, the witch among us with powers not even she understands. I finger the velvet spell bag.

My throat opens a little, and I’m able to suck in enough air to speak.

“Thank you,” I mutter to Quoth. “Don’t tell Mina or Dora that I… that I’m…”

I can’t even say the words. My whole body shudders as the wild fear creeps inward from the edges of my skull.

I’m in Argleton. I know this village. I don’t have to be afraid.

With shaking hands, I click on my phone’s torch. The soft circle of light illuminates a small patch of the driveway. I can do this.

I need to do this.

Grow up. You want to be a mother, but you can’t even sleep without a light on. Sam’s voice rings in my head, and I hate how much I’ve let him win. I’ve proved him right.

I turn up the lapels on Augustin’s coat, catching another whiff of him. And it’s that, more than anything, that gets me to take the first step. And then another step, and before I know it, I’m running down the road, the beam of my phone’s torch jumping as I use my body’s excess adrenaline to run run run, and it feels terrifying and amazing.

I sprint down the street, take a shortcut through the cemetery, cross the village green – which is a sodden mess, with huge trenches and old Victorian pipes exposed – and enter the woodland path. Trees lean towards me. Everything looks different in the dark – sinister. I touch the spell bag again, remind myself that on the other end of this terrifying run is a man who should be my enemy but kept me safe in the dark.

Quoth swoops from tree to tree and hops along the path, occasionally letting out a croak of encouragement. I scan the forest, searching for a house, but all I see are dark shadows of trees.

I’m not going to give up now. He can’t live too far. I’m almost there. Maybe he’ll be so grateful that he’ll give me a cup of tea to fortify me for the return journey.

I follow the turns on Celeste’s map, but even then, I almost miss the house. I can’t see it from the path – my only clue that anyone lives here is a wooden letterbox carved like a mermaid with a little red flag, and a narrow, stone-lined dirt trail winding between the trees. I turn down the path, passing under trees strung with fairy lights. A small cottage looms to the left, shrouded in shadow. It looks like no one’s home, but then I hear voices in the trees.

I dive into the foliage, my heart hammering against my chest. I keep low as I sneak around the side of the house, following the comforting strings of fairy lights down a narrow path. The trees open out into a wide clearing. I stick to the shrubs, not certain why I’m hiding, but also absolutely certain that I should hide, rubbing my eyes because I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

A large circular labyrinth has been drawn on the earth with stones, lights and flickering tealight candles. Augustin has his shirt sleeves and trouser legs rolled up, which is somehow casually erotic. He wanders along the path, arms out, doing an exaggerated walk that has him off-balance. A girl standing behind a wooden table at the centre giggles.

I’m momentarily taken by the ropes of muscle along his forearms and calves, before pulling myself back to the scene.

“I’ve done it! I’ve battled the minotaur and made it to the labyrinth shopping mall. What’s at the centre of the labyrinth tonight?” Augustin peers down at the table, which I now notice is piled with shoes.

“A shoe store!”

That voice – I can’t be certain, but she sounds like the girl that yelled at Augustin outside Nevermore Bookshop.

All around the grinning girl are piles of shoes. Some she’s arranged on top of rocks. They look like they come in two sizes – the girl’s size, and Augustin’s size. Her smile is so wide and happy, it makes my chest ache.

I wanted that.

I still want that.

But wanting is useless. Wanting won’t fix what’s broken inside me.

Augustin bends down, furrowing his brow as he pretends to peruse the selection.