Chapter Thirty
It took Sascha over twenty minutes to pump magical energy back into Asher after he’d been depleted of it by Samuel’s spell. Luckily, it turned out that the magic had only grazed Asher’s shoulder, and he hadn’t received the full force of the hex. We guessed this was the only reason he wasn’t dead right now. Once I’d seen that the Parrishables were leaving as quickly as they could, I had knelt down next to Asher and found that he wasn’t breathing and performed CPR on him until the others could reach us.
Jasmine said that I was yelling the whole time, screaming for Asher to “wake the hell up!” Her words, not mine. I can’t actually remember what I said out loud, but I know that in my head, I was pleading for the universe to give me more time with him. The thought of losing another person I cared about was too much to bear, and I knew that with the fight over, I’d have more time than I wanted to process all the loss I’d been through lately.
But as I watched, Sascha brought Asher back. I couldn’t see anything physically happening, of course, since the magic was all internal, but his cheeks started to gain a little color and finally he opened his eyes and stared straight into mine.
“Did I ever tell you that you’re drop-dead gorgeous?” were the first words out of his mouth. Then he flashed me that sideways smile of his and I nearly jumped him with joy.
But I restrained myself and rolled my eyes instead. “Boy, do you know how to sweet-talk a girl,” I said sarcastically, but took his hand in mine. We both knew what the other had done. That we’d chosen to help our families over each other, but we also knew it was the right thing to do. Now the plan was to make him a part of that family by welcoming him and his sister into the Cleri as official members.
Not that this news went over well with everyone in the coven. True to form, Fallon complained for hours about it, threatening to leave if we invited traitors into the group. But then Asher showed Fallon a few spells in private, ones that they refused divulge to me, and suddenly Fallon was Asher’s biggest fan. He began to follow Asher around like his minions did him, and I realized how much he was probably missing his dad. Not that his dad was unusually powerful, but he and Fallon had had a really great relationship. Now that Asher was the oldest male witch in our coven, Fallon seemed to need someone to look up to. And Asher was happy to oblige now that the immediate threat against his sister was gone.
Speaking of, we’d found Asher’s sister, Abby, wandering around in the woods behind the cabin after having been abandoned by one of the Parrishables in his haste to flee. She’d barely said ten words to me. In all fairness, she hadn’t said much to Asher either, but according to him, she was always on the quiet side. I could only imagine how being kidnapped and held by a magical lunatic who killed your parents would cause you to retreat even further into yourself. In fact, I admired her for even being able to function after all she’d been through.
Still, I hoped Abby would eventually let down her guard and take the time to get to know me. From what Asher said about her, I think we’d really get along. Things were likely to get better once there was a little distance between us and what had happened with the Parrishables.
There was no concrete evidence to show that Samuel and his coven were gone for good, of course, but we all believed that he was gone for now. The threat of war was over and we could go back to our regularly scheduled lives. Whatever that meant.
Most likely, the bulk of us would be sent to live with relatives—aunts, grandparents, family friends, not all of which were magically inclined—who would all happily take us in. I was nearly eighteen and figured I could probably duck the authorities until I was able to take care of myself. And with Asher and his sister right down the block, it wasn’t like I was going to be alone. I could finish up my last year of high school, maybe apply for colleges, cheer. All my plans from before were sort of up in the air considering what I’d been through. The way I looked at the world was different now. I was going to need to do some serious soul searching now that I didn’t have to look over my shoulder anymore.
“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get home?” Asher asked me on our drive back from the cabin.
“Take a bath, sleep for about a year, and then go to cheer practice,” I said, not even having to think about my answer before saying it.
“You’d rather hang out with a bunch of cheerleaders than spend time with me?” he asked, in mock shock. Then he thought about it and shook his head. “Never mind. I’d choose cheerleaders over me too.”
“Har-har,” I said as we pulled into the driveway. Just being in close proximity to my house made my heart both quicken and ache at the same time. It was so weird to be back after all that had happened and doubly weird to come back to an empty house. The only thing that was different, though, was that I no longer felt alone. I’d talked to my mom in my dreams and then with the spell . . . well, just knowing it was possible to still be able to communicate was enough to make it all more bearable. Now I was just going to have to create a new normal.
I went to put my key in the door but paused when I noticed that it was already slightly open. Not much, just a crack. I looked back over my shoulder. Asher had already started to follow his sister as she walked over to their aunt’s house, but he slowed down and called out to me.
“Everything okay?”
I listened for a noise that would alert me to someone being inside. But there was only silence. I let out the breath I’d been holding and told myself that not every weird thing that happened meant I was still being stalked by Samuel. In fact, the last time I’d been home, I’d left pretty abruptly and hadn’t exactly stopped to lock up. The whole damn place was probably unlocked.
“Yeah. It’s nothing,” I said, my initial fear subsiding. “I’ll see you in a few hours?”
“It takes you that long to destinkify yourself?” he asked, walking back toward his aunt’s.
“Well, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle smelly?” I answered, pushing the door open.
“Ha!” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”
“You too,” I said, walking into my house.
A look around the living room showed that nothing had changed since the attack the night of the football game. The place looked like a tornado had swept through it, upturning furniture, breaking lamps and vases, and collapsing tables and chairs. Black char marks covered the walls, while mud and dirt appeared to be permanently etched into the carpet. I stood just inside the door for a minute and replayed the events of that night in my head, still amazed I’d gotten out of there alive.
If things had gone just a little bit differently, the house would be completely empty right now. The thought filled me with sadness and I trudged the rest of the way inside, kicking the door closed as I went.
Part of me knew that it was just a matter of time before I broke down, but in the meantime I was too exhausted to care. Dropping my bags in the entryway, I headed upstairs to take a bath and then lie down for a much-needed nap. At this point, though, I couldn’t be positive I wouldn’t just crash right away. Sleep sounded very good at the moment.
Arriving at the door to my bedroom, I pushed it open, longing to crawl under my covers and disappear for a while. But when I looked inside, I froze.
There, standing across the room and staring out the window, was a man. His back was to me, but I could tell he was strong and tall—both traits I wasn’t so psyched to see in an intruder. He didn’t turn around right away, even though I was sure he’d heard me. I resisted the urge to scream or run; I was too tired to fight anymore. Giving up, I surrendered to the fates and waited for him to make a move.
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
Confusion washed over me as I recognized the man’s voice.
It couldn’t be . . . could it?
Suddenly I was running toward him and before I could think about what I was doing, I flung my arms around his body and hugged him as tightly as I could. I squeezed so hard I thought my arms might break and let loose the tears that had been building up for weeks now. As he turned around to face me, I collapsed, allowing him to catch me as I fell. Slipping to the floor, he held me in his arms and stroked my hair while shushing me quietly.
When I’d stopped sobbing, I dared to look up at him, fearing that I would find he’d disappeared. But he was still there, and that got me crying all over again. Finally I dried my eyes with the back of my hand, sniffled, and managed a wobbly smile.
“They ambushed me on my way to the hotel and took everything I had. I was told you and Mom were dead. They said there was nothing to come back to. Then they tried to get me to join the Parrishables. When I refused, they tried to kill me, too. Eventually I got away and headed straight here. I had to see if they’d been telling the truth. And then I saw the house,” he said, his head dropping to touch the top of mine. Then, more quietly, he added, “I got your note. I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner, Had.”
“It’s okay, Dad. You’re here now,” I said, cradling my head against his neck, enjoying the realness of the touch.
“Tell me what happened.”
“Where do I start?” I asked absently, truly unsure how to describe all that had happened since he’d left.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning.”