“Ivy?” I ask, my voice trembling.
“I’m going to get in a lot of trouble for this,” she says, shaking her head.
“Tell me.”
She breathes out and finally meets my eyes. She looks angry, angrier than I’ve ever seen her, and my heart starts to race. “The reason you’ve been feeling like things are off is because they are. I’m mad at you for something you don’t remember, and I’m not over it yet. I don’t know how to get over it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I thought we were doing the right thing, but seeing you like this… I was wrong.” She shakes her head and looks off into the distance.
“Ivy, say what you need to say.”
“There’s a veil over certain things in your mind. You can feel it, right? A haziness you can’t explain?”
All the air leaves my lungs. “How do you know that?”
“Because you made a lot of bad choices, so we had you drink a memory eraser.” She looks down at the ground, regret and bitterness crossing her face, two things I so seldom see on her. “You took it willingly because I convinced you to. Because you trust me. But it turns out some of those bad choices were good for you.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
“Your parents and me.”
I take a deep breath and keep my voice as calm as possible. “Ivy, start from the beginning. And don’t leave anything out.”
“It’s a long story,” she says, motioning to a bench on the trail.
“I like stories.”
She nods and sits down next to me. Then she starts to speak. She tells me about a boy I met, a boy who practiced dark magic and put a glimmer in my eyes. She tells me that he taught me some of his magic and that I loved it the way I love the sea. She tells me that she was swarmed by bees and almost died, but I stepped in and used dark magic to save her life. She tells me that she hasn’t been able to forgive me fully.
She tells me that I ran away from home to be with the boy—Wolfe, she calls him—and that I chose him over everything else. That I was willing to give up my whole life for him, my parents and Landon and our coven.
She tells me that I found out he’d lied to me and used me to get close to my mother, that his coven sent him to seek me out for that purpose. She tells me that I willingly took a memory eraser to forget the boy so marrying Landon would be easier.
She tells me that the light inside me went out as soon as I drank it and that I haven’t been the same since. She tells me that it’s been killing her inside, because from the moment I took my first sip of the tea that would steal my memories, she knew it was a mistake.
She cries as she speaks, still so angry with me. But under that anger is a well of love so deep and so wide that I can feel it even when her voice shakes and her eyes cast blame.
The story is wild, so unbelievable, and yet I know it’s true because of the ache that builds in my chest with every word she says. I know it’s true because I can feel an emptiness inside me where something used to be. Where someone used to be.
I know it’s true because I feel myself stitching back together after some unnameable thing tore me apart.
Then I gasp. The boy on the shore. It was him—it had to be him. He looked so tormented, so utterly wrecked, and even though I can’t remember the things Ivy tells me, I believe that they happened.
I know that they did.
“I’m so sorry, Tana,” Ivy says when she’s done, pulling a lace handkerchief from her pocket and wiping her eyes. “It was a mistake.”
I’m quiet for a long time, unsure of what to say. How to process all the things she’s told me.
I hesitantly reach out to her, not knowing if she’ll want me close after what I did. But when my hand touches hers, she squeezes it tight.
“It sounds like I made enough mistakes for the both of us,” I say. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Are you mad?”
“No. You thought you were doing the right thing, and I took it willingly.” I sigh and look down. “Why can’t I just be happy with the life I’m meant to lead?”
“Maybe the life you’re thinking of isn’t the one that’s meant for you.”
I look at her then. She has always known me, all of me, who I am and who I’m trying to be. She knows me so well that she could see the fog inside me after I drank the memory eraser and decided it wasn’t worth it.
I’m so glad she did.
“Ivy,” I say, grasping her hand in both of mine. “I have to see him.”
She pauses, weighing something in her mind, and I see the exact moment she makes her decision.
“I know,” she finally says.
“Will you help me?”
Another pause, and I worry I’ve asked too much. Then she sets her jaw and grabs her coat. “Yes.”
thirty-six
It’s hard being in Ivy’s home, seeing the way her parents look at me, a cross between fear and gratitude. I want to say something to them, but they think I’m oblivious, that the memory eraser is doing its work and I’ve been scrubbed clean of any recollection of saving Ivy’s life, so I try my best to act like nothing is wrong.
I know I should feel appalled, shocked and surprised by my actions. And I am. But they also somehow fit, somehow feel like mine, even though I can’t remember them. I ache for the memories I lost, for the moments that meant enough to me to give up this life and choose something different. What they must have been like, to cause me to act in such a way.
What he must have been like.
When Ivy’s parents are asleep and the moon is high above us, Ivy walks me to the western shore.
“Say his name at midnight,” she says, “and if he hears it, he’ll come.”
I think of the dream I’ve been having, of waking up so often thinking I’ve heard my name whispered on the wind. I swallow hard. “How would he hear it?”
Ivy shakes her head. “Some kind of dark magic. I don’t know the details.” I don’t miss the way her voice sours on the words dark magic.
“Okay,” I say, my voice quiet. I’m so nervous, my heart racing wildly in my chest. I’m sweating in the cold autumn night even though there are goose bumps all over my skin.
“Do you want me to stay with you?” Ivy asks, and I’m overwhelmed by how much it means for her to offer. How much of herself she’s giving up just to ask.
I pull her into a fierce hug and squeeze her tight. She hugs me back, soft at first, then tighter and tighter, and it takes my breath away because I know we’re healing. We’re going to be okay.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“I’ll see you back at my place,” she says.
Once she’s out of view, I turn to the water. My stomach is twisting into knots, and for a moment I think I’ll be sick. I take several deep breaths, and the feeling subsides.
I can do this.
“Wolfe.” I say the name, but it’s so quiet it barely makes it past my lips. It’s so foreign to me.
“Wolfe,” I say again, this time stronger. The name slides out like a perfect melody, and I think maybe it isn’t so foreign after all.
I sit down on the rocks. They’re cold and wet, but I don’t mind. I have no idea how long this is supposed to take or if it will even work. It feels absurd, saying a name on the beach at midnight, but if everything Ivy told me is true, if I loved him even a fraction of the amount I’ve been led to believe, then I have to meet him. I have to see his face and hear his voice.
“Mortana?”
I look up and see the boy from the shore standing in the water. No boat, no raft. It’s as if he just appeared, and I wonder if his magic can do that. I slowly get to my feet, wiping my palms on my dress. He pauses where he stands.
“Wolfe?” I ask, walking closer to the water, trying to get a better look at this person who captured so much of me.
He rushes toward me, water splashing around him as he drags himself from the ocean. It doesn’t look like he’ll stop running until he crashes into me. I take a step back, and he abruptly stops moving.