“Shut up,” she said, but she laughed. “We need a fertilized crow egg. Life from death, remember? The egg represents life and crows symbolize death. And”—she took a breath—“lucky for us, there happens to be a crow’s nest in that tree.” She pointed to a live oak just at the edge of the wood.
“Nope” was all he said.
“Come on,” she wheedled. “You used to climb those trees all the time!”
“When I was younger. Which I’m not anymore. And my fingers have actually turned into popsicles, which I hear aren’t great for gripping onto things.”
“You have the skills. I don’t! You’d never let me climb them when we were younger.”
“Have you seen yourself walk? Try to ride a bike? Of course, I wouldn’t let you climb them. You’re a fucking menace to gravity. And out of curiosity, if I hadn’t offered to help, exactly how were you going to get that egg down?”
“Necessity is the mother of invention, and all that.” She shrugged, not wanting to admit that she hadn’t thought of a way. The tallest ladder they had wouldn’t even reach a third of the way up.
Seth sighed.
“I guess the good news is that if I fall to my death, the sacrifice will be paid.”
“Stop being dramatic. You’re not going to fall. Now go on—we need to do the spell before the sun reaches its apex.”
He gave her a look.
“And also because I need to get to the café,” she admitted.
“There it is.” He sighed. “Good to know my life is weighed against the measure of your business.”
“Stop stalling, you big baby.”
Sadie watched as Seth shimmied up the tree to the lowest branch and swung himself up. From there it was a ladder of footwork and small jumps to the top third of the oak. She sighed in relief when she squinted and saw him triumphantly hold up a small green egg. She’d never tell him, but she hadn’t been entirely sure there were eggs in that nest.
Finally, he jumped from the lowest branch and grinned at Sadie.
“Okay, that was pretty fun,” he said, wiping his hands on his pants in an effort to get some of the sap off. There were leaves in his hair, a few scratches on his arms and palms, and a light in his eyes. “Let’s do this.”
Sadie knelt on the blanket, trying to hold back a shiver as the wind picked up.
“So, we’re going to take turns putting the items in the bowl. That way it’ll have power from both of us.” She picked the amber and put it in.
“This feels weird,” he whispered, placing the selenite next to the amber.
When everything was in, she pulled a white candle and a book of matches out of her bag and wrapped the knot of Isis around it. Her hands trembled. This had to work.
“Now what?”
“Now we light everything in there on fire.” She lit the candle and handed it to Seth, and then struck another match. She dropped it in the bowl, but it went out on the way down. The second one she cupped her hand around, but the flame snapped out. Finally, she held it directly next to the fennel, but it still wouldn’t light.
“That won’t work,” Seth said.
And with his eyes concentrated on the candle, he held it over the bowl. The flame separated from the wick and leaped down into the bowl, curling around the herbs, and blazed bright green before dying out completely.
“How’d you know how to do that?” Sadie whispered.
“I don’t know. It just felt right,” said Seth, equally surprised.
“I wish you’d tell me what your magic is.”
“I wish you’d stop nagging me about it,” he said, but his grin took the sting out of his words.
“Shut up and repeat after me,” she said, her voice still quiet and soft.
Earth below, sky above,
Fill this knot with purest love.
The morning sun will take her pain,
And she will wake renewed again.
They stared at each other.
“Is that it?”
“That’s it.” She nodded, unwrapping the knot of Isis from the candle. “Now we just have to get her to wear it. It should help even if she doesn’t, but the closer in proximity it is to her, the better.”
“Twenty bucks says she won’t wear it,” Seth said as they walked back inside.
“Either way, thanks,” she said, bumping her shoulder into his.
By the time they walked through the screen door, the knot of Isis warm in Sadie’s pocket, Aunt Anne and Aunt Tava were already in the kitchen. Anne poured them both a cup of coffee.
Sadie had dreamed of having family around for so long that she’d forgotten what it was like when they were actually there. It was nice, but so was the solitude of her kitchen in the mornings. Tava sat at her stool so Sadie took a seat at the kitchen table but jumped up again a moment later when Gigi came in, the dogs trailing behind her.
“What did you do, you little shit ass?” Gigi demanded.
Sadie held out the knot of Isis. It thrummed in her palm.
“Just prolonging the inevitable.” Gigi shook her head. “But it’s nice to feel better, at least.”
“You do? Feel better?” Sadie asked, hope and pride blooming in her chest.
“You don’t understand,” Gigi said, shaking her head again. “My time is up. Nothing can stop it now. And I don’t want it to. I’ve been tying that darkness to me for years, and it’s finally catching up. I’ve lived my whole life for you kids; I plan to die on my terms. Now, I’m going out for a cigarette.”
“Oh, baby doll.” Tava sighed when Gigi was gone. “My babies.” She put a hand to Seth’s cheek. “Mom is right. I hate to say it, but it won’t work.”
“That’s enough, Tava,” Aunt Anne snapped. “Don’t be a Debbie Downer.”
“It’s going to work,” Sadie said quietly. “It has to. I know she thinks it’s her time, but it’s not. She’ll see.”
“Sade,” Seth said, but she didn’t let him continue.
“No. I’m going to get ready for work.”
She scrubbed her face and pulled on a pair of black leggings, a burgundy tunic that reached her mid-thigh, and a saffron cardigan with big, loose pockets. She swiped some rose ointment on so her lips wouldn’t chap, and shoved it in her pocket for later. Her hair was surprisingly tame, and she positioned it to keep her ears warm instead of wearing a hat she’d just end up taking off.
She sat at her vanity, the oval mirror tilted up toward the ceiling, as she pulled on her scuffed black work boots and laced them up. Her room, which faced the garden and subsequently Rock Creek House, was always cold in the morning and warm as the sun traveled toward night. It was the same room she’d had her whole life, and not much had changed in it. There were still colorful tapestries hung from the wall and an old green rocking chair in the corner that had belonged to the grandfather she didn’t quite remember.
The large bay window had a built-in reading nook with books stacked haphazardly in piles ready to topple over. She was happy in here. But looking around, she thought again about the toothbrushes. About sharing space with someone. She had everything she needed. But was it selfish to want more? To long for something she wanted but couldn’t have?
“Don’t borrow trouble,” she reminded herself, repeating Gigi’s words. And shaking off the doom and gloom of the future, she snuck out the front door before any aunts could accost her.
At the café, Gail had already opened the shop. Sadie got to work in the kitchen, throwing herself into the routine, stemming all thoughts of Gigi and Jake and the spell and the curse and her family. Spoonful by spoonful she added butter to the babka dough, one of the only recipes she’d use a hand mixer for. Enriched dough wasn’t for the faint of heart. The dough hook caught the soft dough, stretching it around and around, and she couldn’t help thinking it looked like how she felt. Like a big, soft, tangled goop of a mess.
When Gigi came in, there was color in her cheeks, and she bustled busily about until Sadie couldn’t help feeling the hope that was planting itself in heart. She didn’t have to worry about Seth. About the life debt or who would become the conduit. Not yet, anyway. Gigi would be fine.