The Unfortunate Side Effects of Heartbreak and Magic

“We’re with you,” Brian echoed. His features were hard, but they did nothing to hide the panic burning in his eyes.

And she felt them. She could taste their fear, feel their pain, and sense their secrets. They beckoned her to look, whispered what power it would give her. The pull was too much. But with Seth’s magic flowing through her, she also knew what they needed. And that was for Sadie to be strong. To use them. Lean on them.

She focused on their combined energy and used every ounce of willpower to fight through the darkness with her own light. She poured that light into Seth. Every last speck of her magic. Her skin grew clammy, her hands shook, her knees trembled. The ground between them ignited with green flames, and Sadie, in her haze, felt the same malicious presence she had at the edge of the woods. Not her grandfather, but the other spirit. And the fire licked closer, and sweat dripped down Sadie’s face.

It was almost gone. She could feel it evaporating, and it left her cold and shivering uncontrollably. The chasm yawned before her, and she pushed harder, drawing strength from the circle outside the salt. Her family.

She could feel the curse. Dark and rough and violent, it was trying to keep her out. And there, just as the last of her magic tore from her, she directed it through Seth, into the totem on the ground and the decades-old grave beneath.

Seth yelled out in pain as Sadie fell to her knees.

The flames died down, leaving the earth scorched. She knew it would never regrow.

“Seth,” Sadie whispered. His name had barely left her lips when he was blown back outside the circle of salt and collapsed to the ground.

Despite the echoing ring pounding through her ears and the lightning-like pain searing through her body, Sadie fell forward, grabbing Seth’s shoulders, cradling his head, calling his name. The ground was still smoking, its acrid stench making Sadie gag. And then Sage and Florence were there on either side of Seth.

They each took a hand in theirs, and they closed their eyes. The harsh wind still blew, but the connection points of their skin emanated a heat so strong and sweet it smelled like hope and remembrance. They were siphoning their energy into him to bring him back.

Sadie could barely breathe, the iron cage around her chest constricting until her skin prickled in pain. The aunts and Uncle Brian were still linked, their eyes closed, heads tilted heavenward, mouths moving in silent prayers and spells.

And there was nothing she could do. Her magic gone. No spark remaining. Florence held her tight as she sobbed, silent and watchful as she held Seth’s hand.

And finally, Seth opened his eyes. They were clear.

He looked around. At the charred spot in the center.

“I think we destroyed the Death Star,” he choked out, and Sadie laughed through her sob as she threw her arms around him.

“Did it work?” Sadie asked, looking to Florence, who she suddenly realized was ghostly white and looked on the edge of collapse. Anne rushed to her before Sadie could, sliding a strong arm around her sister and holding her up.

“I’m okay,” Florence said with a wan smile, reaching a hand out to Sage, who looked shaken but healthy and relieved.

“It worked,” Seth answered for her with wonder in his eyes and awe in his voice. “The darkness—it’s faded away. I can feel the control now. I can even feel … the earth?” he said questioningly. “It’s humming. I can feel the energy, the living things.” He put his palm to the ground and then slowly pulled it up. Out of the earth came a single yellow daisy. “That’s why the garden always kicked me out as a kid,” he whispered. “Because of the curse.”

“Great.” Sadie sighed. “Now you’ll have another thing to be better at than me.”

Seth laughed shakily.

“It’s over,” Seth said in wonderment.

“It’s over,” Sadie echoed. And she cried. From relief and exhaustion and guilt that she’d lost her magic but saved her brother. There was an emptiness she’d never felt before. The hum of the earth that Seth had mentioned, that she’d always been able to feel, had vanished. She reached for the light she’d always held inside her, that spark of magic, and came up empty.

“Hey now, Ugly Duckling,” Seth teased, pulling her into a hug, “it’s going to be alright.”

“I can’t feel it,” she sobbed. “It’s really gone.”

“I’m sorry.” His whisper sounded pained.

“I’m happy. I really am. I would do it again—it’s just … I feel lost.”

“I promise I’ll be here to help you find yourself again. You’ve always been so much more than your magic, Sadie. But I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She leaned against his shoulder, and he kept his arm around her as they walked back to the car.

“Thank you,” Sadie said to Aunt Anne. “For bringing everyone.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, baby,” said Kay.

“Who needs a margarita?” Uncle Brian asked, and Sadie laughed through her tears.

“Hot chocolate for you, little miss,” said Tava, giving Sage a squeeze.

“You go ahead,” Florence said to the group at large. “I need some time here alone. To say my piece and complete the ritual for Julian’s grave. I want to do it by myself. I need to,” she added when Seth opened his mouth to argue. She pulled Sage into a hug and kissed her on the head before turning to Sadie. “Well, honey, you did it. I couldn’t be prouder.”

Sadie swallowed so hard it hurt, but couldn’t stop the tears from coming again. She hugged her mother. Really hugged her for the first time in her life. And doing so made her feel closer to Gigi somehow. “And my golden boy,” Florence continued, pulling Seth into a hug. “You’ve been fighting your demons for so long. You deserve this. Don’t waste it,” she added. “Now, go.”

When they pulled into the driveway, Uncle Brian was carrying a sleeping Sage inside, and Jake was waiting for her.

“Hey.” Jake grabbed her hand and held her back as the others went in.

“Hey,” she said, leaning into him, relishing the touch of his palms as they rubbed warmth into her arms. “I always wished you’d come back, you know. For a while I even prayed you would. But then the years went on, and I started to think of all the things I’d say to you. I’d play out these whole conversations in my head. But then you did come back. And now I can’t for the life of me remember what I said to you in all those imaginary talks.” She laughed, and even that sounded tired.

“I’m not going anywhere. This? You and me? It’s going to be good.”

“That sounds like a promise.”

“Oh, it’s a guarantee.”

“Shut up and kiss me, please,” she murmured as he pressed her against the car.

By the time they went inside, her cheeks were flushed, and she wasn’t quite as tired as she’d been before.

“I guess you can keep my dog,” he murmured against her hair.

“Our dog,” she corrected him.

Raquel had made tea, and the back door to the garden was open. The faint smell of a freshly lit cigarette trickled in. Seth met Sadie’s eyes across the kitchen table and nodded. Gigi was there.

Raquel’s head rested on Seth’s shoulder. Uncle Brian and Kay were arguing about the proper way to make a margarita while Anne rolled her eyes and Tava spoke in a baby voice to Abby (curled on her lap) and Bambi (curled at her feet).

She’d spent more than half her life in fear of heartbreak, reveling instead in being strange, different, latching onto the Revelare name like she had no other identity. And for the longest time, perhaps she hadn’t. Her days had been structured around order and tradition, control and fear. Now, the unknown settled into her bones like adventure instead of panic.

She’d only ever trusted her magic. Now it was time to trust herself.

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