What are you doing?” Gage asked, his voice thick with ennui. The two of them stood facing each other at opposite ends of a training mat set up in a secluded spot at the edge of the compound. They’d been at it for hours. Sweat dripped down Nor’s back. The sun was setting low over the horizon, and Nor envied its chance at a reprieve. Gage’s arms were crossed. “I keep telling you. You have to plant your feet.”
Nor looked down. “I did,” she insisted.
“No, you didn’t. If your feet were planted, your attacker wouldn’t be able to do this.” And with that, he stepped forward, grabbed her wrist, spun her around, and stepped on the back of her knee. She yelped and dropped to the ground with a thud. By the time Nor had gotten her bearings, Gage already had a fistful of her hair clutched in one hand and a knife against her throat.
Asking Gage to spend any time with her was asking for more grief than Nor needed. But this morning when he had said he doubted Nor could defend herself against a Jack Russell terrier — to use his words — Nor had insisted on proving him wrong.
It was a decision she regretted now more than anything.
It had been almost three weeks since Nor had moved onto the compound. She was allowed to leave only if she had an escort — namely Pike or the taciturn Sena Crowe — with her. She’d barely seen Judd or Apothia and barely spoken to Savvy. Reed thought she was spending time with family. Nor hated lying to him, but what was she supposed to say? Oh, you know, just your typical family drama — I’m pretty sure my mom wants to kill me, so I’m just hiding out for a bit. At least when she talked to Savvy she could tell the truth.
Nor pulled herself up and assessed herself for injuries. She had fresh bruises on her knees, but most of the damage had been to her ego.
Gage sighed. “You’re fine. That’s what the mat’s for.” He spun his knife on the tip of his finger by its point.
Nor cursed him silently. “I didn’t know you had a knife.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he scoffed. “I’m sure whoever you’re defending yourself against will be sure to tell you exactly what weapons they’re carrying. But okay. Let’s try a different tactic. You take the knife.” He flipped the blade easily in his hand and handed it to her, hilt first.
Nor gawped at it. “I — I don’t want it,” she insisted. Her fingertips itched to grasp the hilt, to touch the coolness of the blade. Apothia had been right to keep the knives hidden.
“Just take it.”
“No,” she said, backing up. She stared at the gleaming knife, her heart pounding too fast and too hard in her chest.
“Jesus, Nor. Take the damn knife!”
She grabbed the knife from him and immediately threw it to the ground. “I don’t want it!” Tears welled up in her eyes. She swiped at them angrily. “Fine! You win, all right?” she screamed at Gage. “I’m no good at this!”
Gage spat and snatched the weapon from the ground. He stabbed the knife into the leg of one of the statues, then stalked off. Blood welled up from the slice Nor had cut into her palm.
Later that night, Nor lay on the couch in Dauphine’s basement. The occasional murmur of voices from upstairs drifted over her. The old house creaked and moaned. Bijou, curled up on her pillow, shifted in his sleep. The tiniest tip of tongue stuck out from between his teeth.
Nor scrolled through her phone mindlessly before tossing it to the side with a sigh. No one had seen Fern anywhere even close to the archipelago, not since her visit to the Tower to see Nor. In fact, no one had seen her anywhere lately. The sales of The Price Guide to the Occult had skyrocketed, her seminars were sold out all over the country, and yet the woman herself hadn’t been seen in weeks. Then there was that event in Chicago: people were alarmed at Fern Blackburn’s inability to cast one of her own spells. Instead of being relieved at this turn, Nor felt more frightened than before; while their encounter at the Tower had clearly weakened her mother, Nor could feel her magic raging like a wildfire under her skin.
She gently prodded the bruises on her face and fiddled with the gauze wrapped around her hand. She hadn’t been able to heal her own injuries, as minor as they were. Part of her wondered if that was because she didn’t want them to heal. She thought about the cold steel blade of Gage’s knife. For Nor, cutting had been a habit, a routine solution she’d reached for every time she felt afraid. No matter how many times she’d tried to let it go, it still somehow remained, a final resort she struggled to resist. How can I expect to defend myself against other people, she wondered, when I’m so busy trying to protect myself — from myself?
When Nor finally fell asleep, she dreamed she was back at the Tower. Reed was waiting for her downstairs, but the only thing hanging in her closet was that black bustier dress. She put it on and found not Reed, but Gage waiting in the kitchen with Savvy.
Before Nor could ask why they were there, she looked down to see blood covering her arms. She tried to wipe it away and find the source, but it was thick as paint.
“I told you you’d never find love if you’re always covered in blood,” Savvy said.
Nor screamed for help, and the other two watched indifferently as Nor’s blood continued to drip from her arms onto the floor and spread.
The dream changed.
Nor was now standing in the Witching Hour. The shop was empty and dark. The waning light of the moon spilled through a window streaked with dirt and grime and what looked like bird shit.
She swept her arm along one shelf after another and sent candles, crystals, and row after row of tiny deities — Baphomet and Hecate, the Mother Goddess and Cernunnos, the horned one — crashing to the ground. She waded through the broken glass and porcelain, grinding tiny divine arms and legs into dust with the sharp points of her stiletto heels.
There was movement from the back of the shop, and a putrid stench filled the air. Nor turned and instantly regretted it.
Once upon a time, Madge had been a truly beautiful woman. Her skin now sagged like melted candle wax. Her face resembled a jack-o’-lantern left to rot in the rain. A lattice of black scabs crisscrossed her arms and legs. Her tattoos oozed with infection.
“I told you,” the creature with Madge’s voice said. “I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her in weeks.”
“How can I be sure that you aren’t lying to me?”
“I wouldn’t!” Madge gasped. “Not to you. Not about this.” Madge glanced at Nor’s arm. Where once there had been a tattoo was only a gruesome wound in the shape of a fern.
The memory of a dried-up fern lying on Judd’s table flashed across Nor’s mind. And then something else: a convention hall in Chicago packed with thousands of people, millions more watching on a live stream. She’d plucked an eager young man from the audience. The spell he’d requested had been a simple transmutation spell: relatively easy to cast, but still impressive.
The spell hadn’t worked. The man had remained unaltered. He was quickly escorted from the stage while she stormed offstage, awash in fury and humiliation. She could hear doubt rising from the audience. She could see it in the eyes of those waiting for her backstage.
There hadn’t been any reason for the spell to fail. The power of Bliss Sweeney’s sacrifice should have still coursed through her veins, but even the wounds she’d later carved into Catriona’s arms had done nothing but bolster her anger. She couldn’t cast the Revulsion Curse, the Wish-Granting Charm, or even Void of Reason, a spell aided by opium seeds. The only way she could conjure the Mouthful of Ashes jinx was to throw the ashes into the person’s mouth herself. Most alarmingly, even the spell she’d cast over Quinn was becoming more difficult to maintain. It was all she could do to keep that spell fed.
With enough spilled blood, there shouldn’t have been any spell she couldn’t cast, no rapacious desire she couldn’t fulfill. Something had happened. Something that had started with the girl and that vanquished fern. Blood could ooze from the walls or bubble up from the floor, and she suspected there would be no effect. And it filled Nor with cold desperation.
“You’ve always been quite fond of the girl, haven’t you?” Nor asked in her mother’s voice. “And even as a little girl, she was fond of you.”
“Th-that’s true,” Madge stammered.
“And yet she hasn’t told you where she’s hiding.” Nor clucked her tongue. “Be honest with me. You don’t want me to know, do you?”
Madge blinked at her nervously. “What do you mean?”
“You were hoping that maybe I would just let her go? That I would move on. Didn’t you?”
Madge lowered her head in shame. “I will find her for you,” she promised between sobs.
“I’m afraid that’s no longer an option.” Tattoos unfurled from Nor’s skin. They attacked like cobras. Thorns, venomous and sharp as teeth, struck at Madge’s throat.
Nor left the Witching Hour alone, branding the staircase with bloody footprints.
Nor woke with a start, her pulse racing. In her mind’s eye, she could still see the bloody footprints she’d made on the stairs of the Witching Hour.
Nor swallowed hard. She reached for her phone and dialed Madge. She got her voice mail.
Daylight poured into the room through the basement windows. She could hear car doors slamming outside, the crunch of tires against gravel, and the sound of Pike and Gage arguing.
“You heard what Dauphine said, cuz,” Pike was saying.
“Dauphine’s being unreasonable,” Gage shot back.
Nor ascended the stairs. Standing with Pike and Gage were Sena Crowe and Charlie. “What’s going on?” she asked Charlie quietly.
“My brothers are going off island for a bit,” Charlie explained.
“And Gage wants to go, but they won’t let him?”
“Right. He’s taking the news well, don’t you think?” Charlie said.
“You make a good point,” Pike said to Gage. “If you and Charlie really want to come with us —”
“Really?” Charlie exclaimed.
Pike laughed. “Hell no!” He looked at Sena Crowe. “Can you imagine explaining that one to Dauphine?”
“She’d have our hides, man,” Sena Crowe said evenly.
“Exactly. Sorry, cuz. It’s out of the question.”
Gage pushed past everyone and stomped down the stairs into the basement. Pike was still laughing as he and Sena Crowe left.
Charlie and Nor followed Gage into the basement. Gage plopped onto the couch. He pulled Nor’s pillow out from under him and tossed it forcefully onto the floor.
“Where are they going?” Nor dared to ask.
“Dauphine wants them to do a sweep of the entire archipelago,” Charlie answered. “I wouldn’t worry about it, though. It’s fairly routine.”
“Do you think Pike and Sena Crowe will be gone long enough to give us time to get to the other side of the island and back?” Nor asked.
Gage raised an eyebrow.
Nor took a deep breath. “I want to go to the Witching Hour.”
“Fresh out of eye of newt, are you?” Gage said with a sneer.
Nor gave him a look. “I can’t get ahold of Madge. I want to check in on her.”
“I’m going to need more of a reason than that,” he said.
“I just have a bad feeling,” Nor insisted. “That’s reason enough. If you don’t want to come with me, I’ll go by myself.”
“Like hell you will,” Gage snapped.
“Hang on,” Charlie said. “Do you realize how pissed off Pike will be if you leave the compound?”
“And you listen to him about as much as —” Nor paused to let Gage and Charlie think it over.
“I can’t think of a time when we’ve ever listened to him, can you?” Gage asked Charlie.
“Doesn’t ring any bells,” Charlie admitted.
“So you’re in?” Nor asked.
Charlie grinned. “Yeah, we’re in.”
“Any idea how we’re getting there?” Gage asked Nor.
Nor hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll text Savvy about finding us a ride,” she decided quickly.
“Does she have a boat?” Charlie asked.
“She has a Vespa, but Savvy’s resourceful. She’ll figure out something.”
A few moments later, Nor, Gage, and Charlie left the basement and made their way toward the trees at the edge of the compound. Only the vacant eyes of Rona’s aegises witnessed their departure.
When the three emerged on the other side of the trees, they found an old white pickup truck waiting for them. The truck had a long crack in the windshield and, as with most vehicles on the island, was covered with rust. Grayson and Savvy sat in the front seat. Standing outside and leaning against the passenger door was Reed.
Nor smiled in spite of herself. She’d known she could count on Savvy.
Reed unhitched himself from the truck, smiling that crooked grin of his. Nor wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.
“Hi,” he said, his voice a susurrus in her hair. “These must be your — cousins?” he asked when they pulled apart. He nodded toward Gage and Charlie. Gage snorted.
Nor shot Gage a look. “Something like that,” Nor said.
Savvy jumped out of the truck, her electric-blue box braids swinging past her waist. Her face softened when she saw the welts on Nor’s face. “Oh. Now you look like a villain in a comic book. Which,” she added quickly, “you can totally pull off.”
“Nice to see you, too,” Nor said, smiling.
Reed stroked Nor’s bruised cheek.
Nor smiled. “I’m okay,” she insisted.
Grayson grinned at them from the driver’s seat. “Shut up,” Reed mumbled to him, but he didn’t take his eyes off Nor.
Grayson laughed. “What?” He swept fast-food wrappings from the seat onto the floor to make room for Nor. “I didn’t say anything.”
Savvy settled herself atop an ice cooler in the bed of the truck, looking like a dairy princess on a parade float. Charlie and Gage climbed over the side to join her.
“I take it you know where we’re headed,” Gage said, his tone even more steely than usual. He was staring at Reed’s hand, which was resting on Nor’s knee.
“The Witching Hour, right?” Reed asked Nor.
“Yeah,” she answered, her heart pounding.
Grayson pulled the truck onto the dirt road. Through the passenger window, Nor spotted a little red fox quickening its pace to keep up with them. Nor wondered if it was right in thinking that going in search of Madge was a horrible mistake.