Blood Magic (44 page)

I opened my mouth. It was the time to tell her the truth if I ever was going to. But even though the magic was a part of me, it was too dangerous to involve other people. I was too dangerous. Tears filled my eyes and I let them, giving Wendy
the only mask she could understand. I nodded, and the tears plopped down onto my hands.

“Oh, Sil.” She climbed onto the bed and put her arm around my shoulders. “You—it’s just been too much. But I’ll help you. So you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“I think,” I whispered, inventing the lie on the spot, “I think Judy is going to take me away. To Chicago, where I won’t be trying to live all the time where they lived.” More tears fell as I remembered talking to Reese about moving away together. And I knew Judy wouldn’t mind. That only left Nick.

I hugged Wendy. A huge part of me couldn’t imagine leaving her behind. But what other option did I really have? Especially if the whole town was talking again. My family had been the center of their attention for months now. I was done. I sighed. “Where’s Nick? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, but”—she frowned—“his dad moved them into a hotel in Cape Girardeau last night. I should go call him, actually, to tell him you’re awake.”

“Sure.”

She hugged me tight again, and then slipped out of the room. Climbing out of bed, I dragged myself along the wall to the window.

I turned my face toward the east, toward Nick’s house and the forest. It was black and decimated, like the crumbling ashes of an ancient city. Towers and bridges ruined and fallen into decay. Smoke still rose in tiny ribbons from several places. But nothing outside our circle had burned. Not a single thing.

And I didn’t see any crows, though I searched the sky for them.

Soup was the only thing my stomach could handle. I was allover fragile, muffled, and shaky.

It hadn’t sunk in, what had happened. While I ate, my eyes caught the shifting ruffles of the blue curtains over the sink, and I forgot whole swaths of that night. Then the spoon clacked against my teeth, and it rushed back. I had to stop eating and close my eyes.

Gram Judy moved around the kitchen, present but not speaking, like she could tell I wasn’t ready to talk but wanted me to know I wasn’t alone. Wendy had left with a kiss on my cheek, and promised to come back and check on me. I watched Judy, wondering how I was going to tell her about Reese and the crows. Would she believe me? Or think I’d been totally out of it?

When the gravel outside crunched, I put down my spoon. Judy scooted out the door, and I heard her in the front hall, greeting somebody.

Nick came around the corner, in a pinstripe vest and black pants, and I was across the room and in his arms before I knew I’d moved.

His arms were around me, lifting me onto my toes, and I could smell his hair goo and the hotel soap clinging to his neck. He kissed my hair and said my name.

I couldn’t let go, even when he whispered in my ear, “Hey, babe.” I just held on, fingers in his hair, struggling not to wrap my legs around him, too. “Come on,” he laughed lightly. “Let’s sit.”

We did. Me in his lap. He spoke, and I brushed my fingers along his cheekbone and kissed him randomly, in the middle of
words. He was telling me what had happened, how Eric had managed to get to his car and Judy had seen the fire from the house and come running. How we’d been taken to the hospital, and the story Eric had told to cover for us. About his deal with Lilith.

When he said, “Dad’s dragging me back to Chicago,” I put my fingers over his lips.

“I’m going, too.”

Nick’s eyes widened, and then he smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I can finish high school anywhere. Especially somewhere nobody knows me. Might be good to not be around so many … reminders. Judy has an apartment there, and I’ve already been thinking about leaving. Reese had even talked about it with me. Before.”

He wrapped his arms around me again. After a long moment he said, “How are you feeling?”

“Delicate. Strong. A lot of things. I think you saved my life.”

“I think you saved mine, too.”

I thought of the crows again, falling out of the sky and trailing fire. Helping us bind her. Flying overhead. We hadn’t saved Reese.

“What is it, babe?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I was just thinking about the crows.”

“About Reese.”

Relief closed my eyes. He believed it, too. Thank God. “Yeah. I haven’t seen him. Or them.”

“They were at the hospital. Flew halfway to Cape Girardeau with us.”

“Oh.” Where were they now?

“He’ll be around. Probably as tired as us.”

I opened my hand, the one with the long, healing slashes from the binding spell. Then I took his hand, and laid our wounds side by side. “Tell me it was the right thing to do.”

Nick covered my hand with his, pressing our hot, healing cuts against each other. “It was.”

I stayed the rest of the day, and we cooked soup with Gram Judy, talking about Chicago. The plan to move back made her wrinkled old cheeks pink with excitement.

After dark, Silla and I left Judy in the house, though I could tell she’d have rather we stayed. Once in the backyard, we pushed through the forsythia, and the house lights fell away. The cemetery spread out before us. I took Silla’s hand, and we stood there for a moment. Her breathing was calm, and I watched it puff out through her lips and hang in the cold night.

She turned her face toward my house, where I could still see smoke floating up in thin wisps from the decimated forest. “I haven’t heard them all day,” Silla said, staring at the smoke.

“Come on, babe.” I squeezed her hand. The cemetery was ghostly white, and I was struck by the way it opposed the black starkness of the burnt forest.

At random, we picked a headstone surrounded by long, dry grass. Far away from her parents’ graves, from Reese. It was unspoken, but neither of us wanted to go back there.

I leaned back against the cold marble, and she sat between my legs. I held her, cheek against her soft hair. Everything was so
silent. There was no wind or traffic noises. No birds, no bugs, even. Closing my eyes, I focused on Silla, on her warmth in front of me, and the gravestone cold behind me. And me in the middle, alive.

“Nick, do you think it’s ever worth it to live forever?”

“Be a rock star?”

“President?” She smiled.

I kissed her hair. “No. It isn’t possible.”

Silla was quiet. “Not without turning into a monster.”

A crow’s call tore a ragged hole through the silence. Silla sat up straight, face lifting to the sky. She was like a statue, a cemetery angel raising her eyes to heaven.

A handful of crows flew toward us, wings synchronized. They settled down onto the surrounding gravestones. Except one. It landed directly in front of Silla, hopped closer, then cawed at her.

She said, “Reese. God, Reese.” Her words hung in the air the way her breath had. “In the name of truth,” she whispered, paraphrasing
Macbeth
, “are you fantastical?”

The crow cocked its head, and I tightened my hands on her arms. The other crows flapped off their perches and joined the first on the ground.

All five crows paused. Then the first cawed again and bobbed its head.

They surrounded us, five points in a circle. Silla stared at the black eyes of the first one and reached out her hand.

I want to thank the following people, without whom
Blood Magic
simply would not exist:

Natalie—who sacrificed everything I sacrificed, shared my insanity, watched endless hours of
Criminal Minds
at two in the morning because I was too stressed to sleep, lived in a dirty house, and kept me standing when my knees were weak, all because she believes in me.

Maggie Stiefvater—for daring me to do it. All of it. And for calling me on the carpet when I didn’t.

Brenna Yovanoff—for teaching me how atmosphere can be a character, too. And for being a little bit demon, a little bit flower girl.

Laura Rennert—who makes me feel like a rock star even when things aren’t going too well, and cheers with me when they are. For charging ahead like a white knight and for calling me to say she can’t call me.

Suzy Capozzi—for “all the blood, none of the vampires” and convincing me that I’d written something pretty good after all. Her insight and enthusiasm know no bounds!

Jocelyn Lange and her team in subsidiary rights—nobody
has been better at making my dreams of world domination come true!

Everyone at Random House—their support continues to astound! I feel like every time I turn a corner there are amazing new people pushing me forward.

The Gothic Girls—Carrie, Dawn, Heidi, Jackie, Jackson, Linda—for making me feel like one of them, even before I had a deal.

Early readers online—Star, Amber, Nikki, Laura, and Kate, who always begged for more.

My mom, dad, and brothers—for the gift of reading, nights at Ponaks, and making me strong. The carriage house awaits!

Especially my little brother Travis—for assuming I’d be able to put him in a book someday.

Robin Murphy—she suffered through the first novel I wrote, and even said she liked it.

My godfather, Randy—for always asking how the writing is going, and always doing my taxes.

TESSA GRATTON
has wanted to be a paleontologist or a wizard since she was seven. Alas, she turned out to be too impatient to hunt dinosaurs, but is still searching for someone to teach her magic. After traveling the world with her military family, she acquired a BA (and the important parts of an MA) in gender studies, then settled down in Kansas with her partner, her cats, and her mutant dog. She spends her days staring at the sky and telling stories about magic. Visit her online at
tessagratton.com
.