Her hands felt warm and light on his body, and he shivered against her. Her soft mouth on his neck kissed him sweetly. She pulled him ever closer, and then they were joined together. Her body rippled underneath him, and he looked into her eyes and heard her cry out for him.
There was so much to feel, so much to see. He was in and outside of his body, in and outside of his blood. He was flying above the ceiling, looking at the two of them from below, marveling at how sleek and slippery their limbs were as they rolled together, the beautiful shape they made, their bodies intertwined. It felt as if she were turning him inside out, and all he could do was keep doing what he was doing, and he felt her all around and inside his body and inside his soul.
When it was over, he was covered in sweat and shaking. He opened his eyes and saw he was still in the same room, looking at the same cracked ceiling. “I love you,” he said, over and over again. “I love you, Freya.”
Freya looked at him tenderly. “No, you don’t, my darling. But you are no longer in pain.”
SIX
A Last Good-bye
The next morning they had breakfast at Veselka, a Ukrainian diner that was famous for its borscht. Oliver felt ravenous and energized. He did not know if it was the loss of sleep or the love they had made, but he felt like a new man. He felt sufficiently brave enough to ask Freya the question he had been dreading the moment he noticed the Holiday had been irrevocably changed.
“Where are you going?” he asked, spearing a pierogi and covering it with sour cream.
“My family is moving back home. To North Hampton.”
“Why?”
“It’s complicated,” she said ruefully. “A story for another day.”
Oliver settled against the booth, feeling the cracked leather dig into his skin. Did he feel better? Different? Worse? Better. Definitely better. He touched the side of his neck. He did not feel the same throb there.
Schuyler. He could say her name. He could remember her without the pain. Remember and honor their love, their friendship, but no longer be tortured by her absence. It was as if Schuyler was behind glass. Part of his past but no longer the torment of his future. He missed his friend. But he would survive her loss. Her loss.
He put down his fork. “Who are you? What are you?” he asked Freya.
“I’m a witch.” She smiled. “But then I think you already knew that, scribe.”
“You know about the Blue Bloods?”
“Yes. Of course. We have to. But we keep away from their business. My family does not like to…intervene. But you were a special case.”
“Will I ever see you again?”
“Maybe,” Freya said thoughtfully. “But I don’t think you’ll need to.”
She was right. He did not love her. He had loved her last night, as it was love that they had shared together. And now she was going away, but it was all right.
Oliver was himself again. He had the memories of his time as Schuyler’s human familiar, but he no longer felt the ache of need, the suffering in his very soul. Whatever he had felt for Schuyler had not been removed forcibly. Instead, his love had been absorbed and dispersed into his spirit. It would always be a part of him, but it did not have the power to hurt him anymore. Freya had done this. She had healed him. Freya, the witch.
“Thank you.” He rose to kiss her on the forehead. “Thank you so much.”
“Oh, sweetheart, it was my pleasure.”
One last hug, and then they parted.
Oliver walked down the street in the opposite direction. His cell phone began to vibrate, and when he saw the number, he answered it immediately. He listened for a moment, and his face broke into a smile. “Really? Wow. Congratulations. When? Of course I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Freya Beauchamp’s Scrambled Eggs for the Brokenhearted*
(For those who like their breakfasts fortified by a little magic )
eggs
salt
heavy cream
black pepper
chopped fresh mint
butter
As you chop the mint, repeat these lines:
Broken hearts take a toll.
Mint shall heal the shattered soul.
The Goddess breathes new life in you.
Go forth and find a love that’s true.
Whisk the eggs with the cream in a bowl. Add the chopped mint, salt, and pepper. Melt the butter on a pan over medium heat. Add the egg mixture; cook two minutes without stirring. Using a large spoon, gently turn over until it is cooked through but still soft.
Garnish with mint sprigs.
Serves one broken heart and one friendly one.
—Adapted from The Book of White Magic by Ingrid Beauchamp
*For more about Freya and her spellcipes, watch out for Witches of East End, due Summer 2011 from Hyperion.
A L W A Y S S O M E T H I N G T H E R E
T O R E M I N D M E
Endicott Academy
Endicott, Massachusetts, 1985
ONE
Patient Zero