Sneaking out was the easy part. It would be harder to sneak back in, when their mother would have most likely grown suspicious, but Cora already knew what she'd say to Stella when that happened.
As they treaded down the stairs, Willow magicked a charm to quiet their footsteps. Cora pressed her finger to her lips, and they hurried to the front door, rousing no doubts that they weren't still in their bedrooms.
They took the train to the park, sitting side by side on the warm, cushioned seats. "You promise not to bother us when we get there?" asked Willow for the hundredth time. She'd made Cora swear up and down she wouldn't intrude on her and Oliver's date.
Cora narrowed her eyes, peeved. "For the last time, yes. I promise."
"Hold out your pinkie," said Willow.
"What? Willow."
She didn't relent.
"Okay, all right." Cora held out her pinkie.
Willow hooked hers around Cora's. "Do you swear, Cora Emerson?"
"Yes, I do."
"Swear on your life."
"I swear on my life."
Willow smirked, contented. She didn't understand how easy she had it. At least her sister didn't have to cause misery to the boy she liked. Why couldn't she be twelve again, concerned with first time crushes?
When they'd gotten off the train, and were heading up the steps, Willow paused, making Cora stumble. "He's waiting for me outside so stay away."
Cora had informed Beau they'd be spying on her little sister. To her surprise, he'd taken it well. He understood, being a big brother himself, that she had to keep a close eye on Willow. After all, this was her first official date.
The stuffiness of the train had spoiled her. Outside, the cold air nipped at the parts of her skin that were exposed. She shoved her hands into her pockets, keeping back as she promised, as Willow strode up to a boy who looked harmless enough from a distance, with a curly mop of blond hair and ears that were currently pink from the coldâhis grin lopsided but amiable.
Willow and Oliver began ahead, and she followed, being sure to keep a few feet between them. The air smelled pleasanter than a stuffy trainâall spice and sweet birch. Cora couldn't believe Christmas was only five weeks awayâhow fast the year had flown by.
On the first of December, Thorne Pointers would adorn their homes with the best of yuletide's decorations, even the streetlights would be festooned, dressed up like candy canes. A thrill ricocheted up her back because the holidays were upon them, because she was meeting Beau for the first time in days, and because she'd never snuck out before.
She supposed every bit of wickedness counted.
The light changed and they started across the street. Willow waved at her; a gesture that meant keep back. Cora thought she had been keeping back, but she slowed her pace, only to quicken it again when she caught sight of Beau on a bench not too far away.
"Beau!" She waved, resisting the urge to descend into a mess of apologies and tears at the sight of him. That's how much she'd missed him, but the illusion faded the moment she closed the distance between them, all the hurt and disappointment frothing in her chest and, she could imagine, his, as if someone had gone at her heart with an eggbeater.
There was a tautness to his mouth that gave him away, the draw of a bottom lip that made his feelings obvious, even during an uncoordinated hug that left her less than comforted, disheveling her spirits. He wasn't happy to see her.
"You look good," she said, wanting to hold onto him a while longer, to wallow in his warmth, inhale the crispness of his cologne, and he did despite everything that'd happened, all that grief and the fact she'd caused it.
His gaze swept over her, from hat to boots and everything in between. "So do you."
"Come on, let's hurry before we lose them." She forgot and almost took his hand, reaching out only to let herself fall away. She stuffed her hand into her pocket before he noticed. If he had, she couldn't tell from his guarded behavior. That perpetual freckled frown. Not that she blamed him.
For the love of crows. Pull yourself together.
Cora scolded herself. She hadn't prepared what to say. There was so much she needed to say but now that she had the chance nothing sounded right. Hadn't she tried apologizing before with no luck? Would it help? She stole a glance at him. She wasn't certain about anything anymore, not him or her magic.
A worthy distraction from their awkwardness was Willow and Oliver up ahead who were deep in conversationânothing else but comfortable with each otherâOliver chatting away animatedly. The skating rink closed at six-thirty on Saturday, which didn't give Cora and Beau much time for spying or skating, but she doubted they'd be doing much of the latter.
It wasn't long before they'd made it so far into the park that all other sounds melted away, except for the shuffle of feet and the tussle of leaves. A car horn blared in the distance on the other side of the tree line. There was an eeriness to being there after dark. The trees along the path casted long shadows, branches like claws that in her imagination snaked around their ankles, toying with them in an odd game of hopscotch.
A man lying on a bench slept like the dead, arms crossed over a sign she couldn't read, his snoring almost in sync with their footsteps. The clouds gave way to a perfect full moon, obscuring it a minute laterâa wonderfully wicked ambience she couldn't enjoy because of how much she'd hurt Beau and the guilt.
He didn't stray from her side, one hand in the pocket of his coat, the other balled in a fist. He hadn't looked at her once. She knew because her gaze had sneaked to him thrice, even through how hard she tried to pay attention to anything but him. His features were still strained. What a sickening realization it was to learn she'd have to work hard to earn his trust again. It sat something awful in her stomach, like she'd downed a cup of spoiled milk.
If only he'd see her, really see her for how hard she was trying. Why was it people only saw her for her mistakes and not who she was trying to be? Cora shivered, not from the chill alone but from the dread of her impending confession. It crawled along her skin, starting at her toes. Up it traveled, getting tangled in her throat like a fat, lumpy toad. It was tough sitting with the knowledge of what she was knowing the people she cared about most would never understand. She sighed. Seeing her breath in the air reminded her of his brother, the innocence of him pretending to smoke an imaginary cigarette only weeks ago.
The memory tickled her.
"How's Noah?" she tried. She would've said anything if it got him talking to her, looking at her like he used to.
Beau scratched the bridge of his nose. "He's all right," he said with a shrug. "He's umm..." His voice wandered off into an uncomfortable kind of quiet.
"That's good," she said, nodding as if she hadn't picked up on what he couldn't say. Noah would be better if his grandmother weren't cursed. He would be too.
He didn't know how much the regret ate away at her. How many times she'd woken up in tears because her subconscious wouldn't let her forget as if nothing had happened. And she didn't deserve to. She couldn't do that to Beau or his family.
They arrived at the skating rink, not having said much to each other. While Willow and Oliver rented their ice skates, Cora and Beau sat in the bleachers, far enough away from other people, most were out on the ice, that still gave her a clear view of her sister. Really, she was working up her nerve. Not once in her family's history had any of them ever made themselves known as sorceresses. The non-magic humans weren't always so impressionable. Beau might think she'd lost her marbles, but she had to try.
He sat forward; arms braced on his knees. If tension were a birthday cake, both of their slices would be rather generous. They'd gotten good at not talking to each other.
Cora fiddled with her fingers.
Watching everybody have fun on the ice heightened the awareness of her woe. Willow and Oliver were chasing each other in what could've been a game of tag. Their sweet naiveté made her long for years in her childhood before her father left, when everything had been simpler. When there were no lives to ruin and magic was a doorway she could step through into a splendid world. Willow would be her in a few years, but she didn't have Cora's conscience. It wasn't that Willow lacked empathy. It was a question of how much. Or maybe she was better at hiding it than most people.
"Beau." His name slipped out of her mouth like a softly uttered curse.
"Yeah, Cora?"
"There's something I need to tell you." She hadn't stopped playing with her fingers, tugging on them so hard it hurt. "It's about your grandmother." She didn't look at him, but she knew he was studying her. Her body language, every move she made, didn't go unnoticed. "About that evening." She gave in to his persistent stare, locking eyes with him. Those heavy-lidded, sad brown eyes could stop any heart. "Your grandmother didn't fall and hit her head. She was..." She licked her lips, dropped her gaze. "She was cursed... by... by me."
Cora hung her head. If she'd expected to feel lighter from the weight of that secret lifting off her shoulders, that didn't happen. What she felt was hopelessâso powerless to the whims of her magic.
"I know," he said. "Because of this." He reached into his pocket and brought out Mrs. Campbell's phone, slightly battered but otherwise intact. "I saw the video."
The video.
Cora's breath whooshed out of her. He placed the phone gently in her lap. Her mind reeled.
He knows. Beau knows what I am.
"I didn't understand it at first," he said. "I must have watched that video a hundred times until it finally clicked. Listen, Cora, there's a reason I came here today, and it wasn't to patch things up with you."
She picked up the phone. It was an older model that still had buttons and it fit the length of her hand. "You want to know how to wake your grandmother."
He nodded. "Pretty much."
She squeezed the phone in her fist, not wanting to tell him there was no way to wake her but not seeing a way out of it. She swallowed, a high-pitched squeal diverting her attention. A girl had fallen over. As someone helped her up, Cora searched for Willow and Oliver. They were on the other side of the ice-rink.
"Noah loves it here," said Beau. "He can hardly stay up right but he loves it."
It was then she understood how brokenhearted his family must be, how much he deserved the absolute truth. Cora yanked her hat farther down over her ears, as if she needed more comfort before she laid all her secrets at his feet. If she were lucky, he wouldn't tread on them. He would be gentle with the parts of her she never let anyone see until now.
Please listen to what I have to say.
"If I tell you about my family would you promise not to judge me?"
"I don't think you can surprise me anymore, not after what I saw," Beau said, but his expression betrayed his thoughts. Cora saw the truth. The whole notion of what she was still had him baffled, regardless of what he'd seen. It was a wonder he wasn't cringing away from her, like a lot of people would.
"We're not only sorceresses," she said, paying careful attention to his face to see the exact instant he'd go from befuddlement to frightened by her. "We can do magic, but not only the good kind."
His forehead creased. "What does that mean?"
Cora glanced behind her to make sure no one had overheard, but the seats in their section of the bleachers were empty. She leaned in closer to him anyway. "Once, a long time ago, another sorceress cursed my family to ruin someone's life before our eighteenth birthday or we'd lose our magic for good."
Seconds passed. He said nothing. If only she could read his mind, to know how much she could tell him that wouldn't push him further away. "The truth is, Beau," she said, taking a chance on him even through her fears, "everyone in my family has ruined someone's life one way or another."
"What you did to my grandmother was because of that?" Beau shook his head. "You ruined her because of the curse?"
"No. No. That was an accident."
"How?"
"I saw her at our window and tried to have her delete the video because I was afraid."
"Afraid she'd tell your secret?"
"Kind of." She gripped the hem of her coat to anchor herself. "Mostly I was afraid you'd think of me differently if you knew. Beau, I was entirely selfish, but I never intended to hurt her. I swear."
"But it's too late now because you did."
"I know and it was a wretched thing to do." She covered her face with her hands. "If I could undo itâ"
"If you could undo it? What are you saying, Cora?"
His voice had risen. Her heart beat quickened.
No. No. No
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. In another reality he'd understood and forgave her because the curse wasn't her fault. Of course, nothing in life ever happened so certainly.
"Can you help or not?" he asked, each word drilling in how helpless they both were.
She didn't want to lose him again but with her face still covered she prepared for it anyway. Cora lowered her hands into her lap because he deserved to see her anguish and she deserved to see his. "I can't," she said. "There's no way. Beau, I'm soâ"
He stood. She reached for him, but he edged away. "Why did I even come here?" he asked. It didn't sound like he'd directed the question at her, but she hated how he couldn't even look at her.
Her chewed fingernails were inches from her mouth when she changed her mind and stood too. "You came here for the truth."
"And what is the truth?" He spun so quickly she flinched away. "My grandmother is in a coma that no doctor can explain, and now you're telling me because of a curse she'll be that way forever."
Cora sucked in her cheeks and tapped her foot. "I'm sorry." Those few words were all the consolation she could give him right then.
"You're sorry?" He scoffed; eyebrows drawn tight. "Cora, that isn't good enough."
She knew that. Nothing would be enough. "I'm sorry I ever met you," she said. "I'm sorry that we're neighbors. I'm sorry that I hurt your grandmother only because I was a greedy coward. I'm sorry that... that..." A tear streaked down her cheek. She wiped it away. "I'm sorry that my entire family is awful. I'm sorry that we've accepted this horrid curse instead of fighting against it. I'm sorry Elizabeth Emerson went along with the lie Blessie Gray told when she ratted out another sorceress to save herself. "
Beau blinked at her; his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.
"I'm finished with the idea that I have to ruin someone's life to keep my magic. I'll never be who the curse says I am because I'm done." She stomped her foot. "I'll never be wickeder than the rest. Never. Ever. Ever again."
What happened next happened so fast there'd have been no preparing for it.
Cora swayed on her feet, suddenly lightheaded. "Beau... I'm..." She tipped, grabbing hold of the railing in time, eyes wide as a blur of images flashed through her mind, one after the other. In a quick succession, images of the Emersons spanning a millennium, ancestors she'd never met, took hold of her senses. She couldn't only see them, she felt, touched, and tasted these reoccurring memories as if she'd been there to experience them.
She saw it allâthe day the sorceress cursed Elizabeth and Blessie. She saw herself, Willow, Mariam, Agatha, and Stella through the years. Until it all stopped, and she plummeted, hitting her head hard on solid ground.
As if someone had hit a light switch in her life, everything went dark.