“It might be nice to have some answers,” I said quietly. “And if you know what’s happening, what’s going to happen, shouldn’t you tell us? People’s lives are on the line.”
“People’s lives are always on the line, little girl.” She clucked her tongue. “And they always come to me, wanting answers, and then they can’t handle what I see. Sometimes I can’t handle what I see. Sometimes this gift feels more like a curse.” After a long pull from her bottle of Jack, she capped it and tossed it into the long grass by her chair. For a moment, I thought about asking her for a swig, then realized… I didn’t really need it.
Jane started to walk slowly toward the festival grounds. “Lots of Vetrovs go crazy, you know. You dip your toes in the Undercurrent even once and you can hear it whispering, and we can’t help but go back again and again.”
From the haunted look on her face, it seemed like she might be listening to its call right now. “Is that why some omnias kindled can supposedly raise the dead?” I asked. “You know how to pull them from the Undercurrent?”
She clucked her tongue. “Takes more strength and power than I have to do something like that, but yes. Comes with consequences, though. Omnias always does. Soon as we come into the power, no matter how old we are when it happens, we know the day we’re going to die without even trying. You can’t get close to people, because if you touch them, you know how it all ends. Imagine how that would feel. It’s why so many of us prefer to be alone.”
Suddenly, my situation didn’t seem quite so bad. “Does it ever feel good?”
“Why does it need to?” she asked, an edge in her voice. “Life isn’t about feeling good. Magic isn’t about feeling good. You have it, you respect it. You use it the best way you can. Or… you don’t. You whine about it, you abuse it, you avoid it, whatever. But it’s always your choice.”
I was glad we were walking, because I didn’t want to be facing her, letting her look at me and watch me squirm. I didn’t know if she was talking about herself or me, but I knew which one I wanted it to be. “But you met with Crowe and warned him that something would happen at this festival. You help people sometimes.”
“Is that what I do?”
I bit my lip, remembering what I’d read in that old journal. “Michael Medici asked for your help, didn’t he?”
“Did Crowe tell you that?” She grunted. “And how do you think Michael felt when I told him he’d celebrated his final birthday? How do you think he felt when I told him the exact day he’d leave this life?”
“Did you see how it would happen?”
“I’ve already explained this to Crowe. I don’t get to see exactly how someone dies, just a certainty about when it will happen. Seeing the future isn’t like watching a movie on a screen, girl. It isn’t like some tapestry hanging in a museum. It’s more like shreds and scraps scattered across the ground. It takes experience and practice to interpret it correctly, and even then it’s fragmented. But I always recognize certain pieces—they tend to stand out.”
“Was Michael scared when you told him he was going to die?”
“Ha! No. He was pissed as hell. And he was determined to prove me wrong.” Her pale eyes stared into the distance, at the Medici flag flying over the family tent. “That’s one thing I’m never wrong about, though.”
I shifted my weight, edging a little farther from her so a careless step wouldn’t bring our skin into contact. “You can predict the future without touching someone, though.”
“Touch or not, it’s still threads that have to come together to weave a complete future. Now that you’re next to me, I can tell you’re one of those threads, Jemmie. Dangling in the wind. Not sure which way you’ll blow, what you’ll tangle around.” She arched an eyebrow. “Who you’ll mesh with.”
A warm breeze blew across the field, bringing hints of smoke and honey, along with a confusing mixture of a dozen other things, all magic. “I’m really a part of all this?”
She stopped. “You’ve always been a part of it, Jemmie Carmichael. You can run as far as you want, but that won’t change.”
My heart skipped. I’d never actually spent time talking to Jane, and it was for this reason exactly. Mom had told me she always knew just a hair too much. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“If you’re here, better make sure you’re all here.”
I sighed. “Okay?”
She leaned in, and I took a step back. “I saw you at the Schoolhouse that night. I saw you practically peeing your pants in fright over a simple binding. I saw you acting like you were terrified of your own magic. If you want to save the Devils and the people you love, I’m thinking you’d better get over that.”
I scowled at her. “I’m working on it.”
“Uh-huh.” She resumed her hike toward the gathering tent and said, over a shoulder, “Maybe you should work a little harder.”
I stayed where I was. Crowe had said all the clubs would meet after dinner. And Crowe hadn’t actually invited me to come—he’d sent me to fetch Jane while he rounded up the officers of the Stalkers and the Kings. I wasn’t officially a Devil. And I’d avoided being formally affiliated with them, because that meant they could ask me to contribute my magic for the good of the club, and I’d always been too scared.
But today, I’d done a halfway decent locator spell. I’d been ready to protect Crowe with a barrier spell. And I hadn’t had one drink, or even craved one, to help tamp down the sensations that came with being around this much magic. Crowe had told me to push through it, and I had—because Alex needed me.
Jane was right. I had been only half here. And if I wanted to find my missing friends, I needed to do better than that.
I ran into Brooke on the path to the parking lot, carrying a couple of kegs as if they weighed nothing. “Hey—did the Curse Kings and the Deathstalkers agree to talk?”
“As far as I know,” she said. “Crowe’s got his hands full, though. Everyone’s pointing fingers.”
Most of them at Crowe. Protectiveness surged inside me. I needed to practice a few spells and make a few cuts if I wanted to watch his back. That meant I needed my casting kit, which had been buried at the bottom of my closet for seven years. Practice would also help me to get away from the overwhelming magic of the festival grounds. I might be able to tolerate it for now, but I had only been here for an hour or two, and my concentration was fraying at the edges. I hadn’t been craving a drink, but the more I thought about it, the more it sounded kind of appealing. I wanted to be here—but I needed to pull myself together.
“Who’s watching out for Crowe right now?” I asked.
“He said he was headed to the Medici tent to catch a little shut-eye, with Hardy to watch his back.” She gave me a sly smile. “You worried about our pres, Jemmie?”
I twirled my keys around my finger, trying to look casual. “I just know he’s worried about his sister and Gunnar. He’s trying to take care of everyone. He hadn’t slept in a day and a half.”
“Uh-huh.”
We stood in awkward silence for a few seconds before I pointed stupidly at my car. “Um. I’m just heading home. Thanks for the update.” I started to step around her.
“Hey, Jemmie?” Brooke bit the inside of her cheek, looking conflicted. “We’re all hoping Katrina’s okay and all that, but I don’t think she ever meant all that much to Crowe.”
I suppressed a smile. “Why are you telling me this?”
Brooke’s cheeks flushed. “No particular reason. See you later?”
“Yeah.” I fought the urge to grab her by the shoulders and ask her more, but she’d probably end up hitting me in the head with both kegs. “I’ll be there after everyone meets.”
She nodded and continued her march back to the festival fields.