The Unfortunate Side Effects of Heartbreak and Magic

“Sugar, it’s nobody’s fault but Julian’s—may he rot in hell.”

Sadie was too stunned to believe her. It was like a puzzle piece had fallen into place. But the picture still didn’t make sense. Some of the pieces were turned over, just blobs of brown in a sea of color. Other pieces were mangled or missing, but the image, blurry though it may be, spoke to Sadie of a truth long harbored in the dark recesses of her heart. Maybe she really wasn’t supposed to be here after all. Maybe that’s why everyone left. Maybe that’s why her curse was one of four heartbreaks. She was swimming against a tide of fate.

“What did you do with the body?” Seth demanded, always practical.

“Called your Aunt Anne,” Gigi said, as though it was the most obvious answer in the world. “She helped me pack him into the trunk, and we buried his sorry ass at Old Bailer, where Evanora could keep an eye on him. Now, certain magic always comes with a price. I helped save you two. But in exchange, your mother had to leave. That magic, it created its own kind of curse, and she couldn’t be near you two without endangering you both. It was the price of the magic. Part of the sacrifice.” She drew a deep, shuddering breath and arched her back with a groan.

Sadie’s eyes automatically tracked to Seth, who was breathing heavily.

“She didn’t want to leave,” he said.

“She wasn’t ready to be a mother,” Gigi said, her voice tight and scratchy as though it was hard to get the words out. “She still had wildness left in her. She was so young. Every Revelare leaves—you know that.”

“But they always come back, right? Isn’t that part of the stupid prophecy?” Seth demanded.

“When it comes to you two, things are different,” Gigi said, not exactly answering his question. Like her. She’d never left. And she never would.

“Well, we can figure it out, though. Right? We’ll find a way around it. It’ll be fine,” Sadie babbled.

“You don’t understand,” Gigi shook her head. “My magic, my sacrifice … I should have died to save you. I’ve lived too long—it’s unbalanced; and now it’s going to rebound on one of you to collect back what is owed. I’ve been fighting it all this time, sustaining the bond, but even my death, it won’t be enough. When I’m gone, you’ll need a sacrifice.”

There was silence for a beat as they both took in her words. Seth, in particular, looked like he was working through an essay question he couldn’t quite wrap his head around. And then …

“Wait. What?” he burst out.

“You mean we’ll have to kill someone?” Sadie laughed this time, and it came out hysterical. “There’s a workaround here somewhere. A loophole. Right? Isn’t that one of the laws of nature? Of magic? There’s always a loophole of some kind?” It all seemed utterly impossible. From the pages of a book titled How Not to Use Magic.

“Well, sugar,” Gigi said, sighing, “if there is one, you’d be the one to find it. But this is all uncharted territory.” She grimaced and put a hand to her back as she stood. “Would you mind making me one of those coffees of yours while I go have a cigarette?”

“Of course,” Sadie answered, on autopilot.

“Don’t burn the kitchen down while you’re in there,” Seth sniped, but his heart wasn’t really in it.

Sadie tried to busy herself with hazelnut-infused coffee, but her movements were sluggish, and she finally sat on the stool and buried her head in her hands. It was all too much. Her stomach churned, and she was grateful she hadn’t eaten much dinner; otherwise, she was sure it would be making its way up.

She tried not to think about Seth being back.

She tried not to think about the secrets sticking to Gigi like freshly tapped syrup.

She tried not to think about Jake’s sweatshirt, still wrapped around her, or his laugh as he’d dunked her in the lake.

And she failed miserably at it all.

The room was spinning, and her eyes, as she stared at the counter, were blurry. It was all too much. Everything was piling up. Her curse. Jake. Seth. Gigi’s cancer and the conduit magic. She’d never believed in coincidences; another Revelare rule. Everything had a purpose, a reason. Which meant that something bad, very bad, was coming. And she didn’t think she could handle anything else. She needed time. To process. To grieve. But magic, she realized, was useless when it came to that.

A cold hand settled on her shoulder for the briefest second, and then Seth started making the coffee.

“The doctor came in again after you left,” he said into the silence. “He guesses she only has a few weeks left.” His voice was hollow as a bird’s bone.

“I’m working on it,” Sadie croaked, surprised to find her voice worked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m working on something to cure her.” Duh. Double duh, she thought.

“Don’t you think if magic could cure cancer, someone in our extremely strange family would have figured it out by now?”

“You sound like Gigi. But I don’t care. It’s going to work. It has to.”

“You always were bad at accepting reality.”

“Maybe I just refuse to give in without a fight,” she argued.

“Or maybe you’re running away from the truth, like you always do.”

“Excuse me? Pardon me? Are you not the one who left? Oh wait, that’s right. You are.” Her voice broke then, and she swiped angrily at the tears that began to fall. Seth looked at her and opened his mouth for a retort, but then he put the coffee down and shocked Sadie by pulling her into a hug.

“You can be such an ass, you know that?” he said into her hair as he held her close.

She was stiff against him at first. Thought about pushing him away. But this was what she’d missed. His ability to be strong for her when she couldn’t be for herself. And so finally, she sagged against him, her head on his shoulder as her arms wrapped around him and returned the embrace.

“Ditto,” she said, though the word was muffled against his shirt.

“Cheer up, ugly duckling,” he said, pulling away with a grin. “We’ve got this.” She shoved him in the chest, and he laughed, and for a moment they were kids again.

“Hand me the cinnamon oil,” she said, pointing to the cupboard.

“So, am I the only one who’s fucking terrified about this sacrifice thing?” he asked, handing her the bottle. And Sadie could see it then, the cloud of fear in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders.

“No, I think on that point we’re fully united.”

“But you’ll find a loophole, right? Neither one of us is going to die.”

“Gigi isn’t going to die either,” she said, her voice hard, adamant.

Seth said nothing, but doubt was etched in his face like it didn’t want to be there.

The kitchen filled with the soothing sounds of the electric teakettle bubbling, the slide of mason jars across the counter, and the tea tin lid being popped off. She poured cold brew, steeped Earl Grey tea, and added a drop of cinnamon oil to the salted cold foam, watching as it frothed.

“Earl Grey helps ease anxiety,” she said, turning the hot tea cool with a gentle touch before pouring it in on top of the cold brew. “And the salt keeps you from bewitchment.” She added a dollop of foam to each glass.

“Little late for that, I think,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“Never say never.”

Finished with the coffees, she handed him one of the mason jars, and taking a deep breath, together they went out to Gigi, the creaking screen door echoing in her bones. She looked at Seth and somehow, she knew he’d been waiting for her to ask the question.

“Which one of us is it?” Sadie’s voice was quiet. She stood unconsciously close to Seth, their arms almost touching. Like if she was close enough to him, he would absorb the answer. She wondered if he was right. If she spent too much of her life living in the shadow of truth.

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