At sunset, Tomo prepared the spell while the rest of us huddled together at the edge of the lake. As the evening settled, the warm lights from the dorms glowed. The reflection from the new moon shivered on the surface of the rippling, black water.
“None of us had to do a trust circle,” Alisdair said to no one in particular.
Gita sniffed. “If she’s not a demon, or communing with demons, she has nothing to worry about. You can’t expect us to work with someone in league with evil. How can we collaborate if we’re never sure?”
Stay calm. Keep an open mind. Maybe Gita’s ideas would be useful to me learning the truth, even if it originated from her hating me.
Tomo looked up from his powders to say, “It’s unlikely she’s a demon, statistically. But it’s a smart precaution to take, given the circumstances. And I’ve always wanted to try this spell.”
After much stirring, Tomo sprinkled the mix over each of our heads, threw some haphazardly in the air as though for good measure, coughed as he accidentally inhaled some, and handed each of us a huge feather. The damp, green lake air briefly wafted with the smells of ginger, cumin, and cinnamon. As though soothing my nerves, I stroked mine to smooth out the breaks and line up the barbs.
Tomo said, “Feathers from the birds that roost at Soulfield. In some mythologies, birds can travel between dreams. Tuck the feather behind your right ear. Now hold hands. Form a circle.” I reached out and Alisdair and Tomo’s hands were already waiting, immediately clasping mine. I felt glad to be between them instead of next to Gita.
“Repeat after me,” Tomo said. He cleared his throat and then called out in a loud, clear voice over the lake. “We students seek the truth. Carry us on the wings of the falcon. Encircle us in the gaze of the third eye. Bathe us in the waters beyond the mortal world. Bind us until all is revealed. Should any devil attempt to escape this circle unseen, drown them in the lake.”
The others began repeating Tomo’s words. I hadn’t been listening at all with the intention of remembering and repeating, but luckily everyone else seemed to know the ritual and didn’t mind my words stumbling hastily after theirs, although I thought Gita might have rolled her eyes disdainfully. Well, she was right—I had no idea how they knew what to say. I hadn’t gotten the impression that they’d ever done the spell before, so did they all have amazing, magically-assisted memorization abilities, or did spells fall into predictable patterns? I’d have to add this to my long list of stuff to research later.
As one, our circle started to shuffle towards the lake, everyone taking tiny steps as though we were walking on ice. I gasped as Tomo splashed into the water. Were we swimming in the lake? No one had told me any of this. Served me right for not asking more questions about what the circle of trust actually involved, and now I was scared to speak lest I interrupt the ritual. Since no one else was complaining, I gritted my teeth and stepped into the water with everyone else. The sandy lake sucked at the bottoms of my shoes. Cold droplets splashed up my ankles. My shoes were immediately soaked. How deep were we going into the water? How could we swim if we were holding hands? Despite my cascade of doubts and questions, I found comfort in everyone else’s calm faces and the fact that they weren’t dressed for swimming either. We kept moving into the lake, hands gripped tightly together.
To my surprise, the water didn’t go above the edge of my shoes. I looked around us, marveling. We entered the lake, my shoes leaking icy water, but clothes otherwise dry. I stumbled on a slippery stone, but the hands I clasped held me up firmly and I quickly regained my footing. Eventually the muddy bottom of the lake fell away, leaving only water to slap up under the soles of my shoes. We were all still standing upright. We were walking on water. Our circle shuffled into the middle of the lake. It was quiet out here, and a light wind touched my face and hair. We floated in silence for a moment, basking in the magic we’d made.
Whoa. My first spell. It was real. Or I was hallucinating. But it seemed real. The chilly air was sweet and enlivening. My feet were soaked, but I felt great.
After a pause, Tomo addressed me, “I have a question for Midnight.” His voice came from within my mind, and echoed all around us. We were speaking mind to mind, like in the dream world. Is that what the spell had done, put us all in the dream world together? Were we still actually standing on the bank of the lake, dry and on solid land, and the water was all an illusion? Had his powder contained more than just spices and he’d dusted me with a powerful drug that was making me hallucinate? That would be very unethical.
Tomo spoke slowly, as though he’d planned and chosen his words carefully. “Have you or anyone you know ever been accused of performing a curse?”
The question caught me off guard, and I surprised myself even more by blurting out, “Yes.” If it weren’t for Alisdair and Tomo holding my hands, I would’ve clapped them to my face and stopped my mouth. Gita startled and stared at me. Alisdair looked shocked and unsure.
Only Tomo seemed calm. “What happened?”
I tried to say I didn’t remember, but the words wouldn’t come out. “I don’t want to say,” was all I could manage.
We all dipped into the water, sunk to our ankles again.
Alisdair said gently, “Do you trust me?”
Looking into his eyes, I tried to say something reasonable and measured, evasive and hard to argue with, like “What do you mean by trust?” so I could verbally spar with him rather than answer, but found myself answering with an unqualified, “Yes.” How did he do that, cut through all my games?
Alisdair said, “You don’t have to tell us. But I wish you would. You may have noticed there are no lies in the dream world. If we know what happened, we can trust you back. That’s the point of all this.”
I looked at him. I did trust him. How had he gotten under my defenses so fast? Was he brainwashing me?
“I don’t know where to start,” I mumbled.
“Just relax your mind. Let us into the memory,” Alisdair said. “You know how to do this. Remember the admissions exam?”
I took a deep breath, then opened my mind to the group.
It was like someone threw a musty gym bag over my head. Sounds muffled, and then the sharp clanging of lockers opening and closing. The distinctive smell of the floor wax was unmistakable.
We were back at Lincoln High School. We watched as I wandered down the hall, hiding behind a book, trying to disappear in the inter-class rush. Without my best friend, who had inexplicably started ignoring me months ago, I felt like I had nowhere to go.
Suddenly, a group of girls cornered me. I almost ran into one of them before looking up. Great, Gita and Alisdair could see what an oblivious bookworm and awkward outsider I was. A girl pointed her finger at me, “Otto says you’re haunting him, giving him nightmares. He says you put a curse on him and he can’t sleep.”
Prior to a few weeks ago, Otto and I had never really talked, despite me sitting in front of him in homeroom for years. We didn’t have classes together and he stuck with the other rich kids.
One day, out of nowhere, Otto stopped at my locker and held out a rose. “Are you going to the millennium dance?” I thought it might be a joke, so I didn’t touch the rose, turned on my heel, and left without answering.
The next day, Otto walked me to class after homeroom. I walked fast, but he kept up, so rather than shove past everyone, I tolerated it. We neared my class and hadn’t spoken, so I thought we were just going to part in silence, but he said, “You’ve been fighting with that girl you hang out with, right?”
I was so surprised to hear this, I had no idea what to say. Had he been watching me and Laura? Was he more sensitive and observant and overall more aware of others than I’d thought?
He continued, “Well, you can hang with me. Let me get you lunch.” When we got to my class, he nervously blurted out, “Will you go to the dance with me?” Still speechless, I was processing Otto’s statement when he handed me a CD on which he’d scrawled “FOR MIDNIGHT” in all caps. “It’s my favorite music.”
That night, I listened to his CD. It was light and jazzy, surprising me. I thought the cool kids listened to hip hop or something. I didn’t like it, but I marveled at the gift. Had I totally misjudged Otto? Thinking about the dance, I had to suppress an excited giggle. Boys had had crushes on me before, but none of them had ever persisted after I was cold to them. This was like a movie or something. It was fun! I wished I could call Laura.
For two weeks, Otto walked with me between classes, and home after school. We didn’t talk much, but I got used to it. It made me feel important, less like a stranger at school, like I had somewhere to be and someone to be with, a feeling I missed. This felt more grown-up and real than the other times boys had tried to get my attention. Boys had stared at me fixedly, snapped my bra strap, and got their friend to tell me they liked me, but no one had chased me like this. I didn’t know how to react and felt both nervous and flattered. Watching me try on lipstick at the supermarket, my mother gritted her teeth.
But now these girls were crowded around me, judgmental, superior, sneering. I had no idea why they were getting involved. None of them cared about Otto or me. They just liked the drama, the bullying, the feeling of being better than someone else and getting to gawk. “Well, he wants you to leave him alone now,” another girl said.
I flushed as I left. “He’s the one following me.”
After class, Otto wasn’t waiting for me outside the door, so I went to find him at his locker. I didn’t like admitting I even knew where it was, but I wanted to resolve this. I walked up to him and tried to ignore how he avoided my eye. “What’s with this rumor?”
Otto couldn’t even look at me. It was so odd, like he was afraid I was going to hurt him. He’s hefty and big, at least a foot taller than me and probably a hundred pounds heavier. After the girls had cornered me, I’d wanted to smack him. But now, seeing him quake took the urge right out of me. He stammered something unintelligible and literally sprinted away like I was going to run him down. Did his clothes fit more loosely than normal? I stared after him and then shrugged it off. Seeing the memory from the outside, I recognized what his expression was—a mix of fear and shame.
Otto missed the next week of school. I threw out his dumb music mix, and avoided talking with anyone. After a few days, things seemed to be back to normal.
One day, after my last class, I heard footsteps squeaking on the smooth floor behind me as I went to the bathroom. I looked around me, but didn’t see anyone. I missed walking home with Laura, doing all our rituals as we stopped at the same spots every day. Was I just scaring myself because I was alone now? I shook off my fear, straightened, and tried to stride confidently, telling myself I was being silly.
When I stopped at my locker, someone scurried behind me as I unlocked the rattling, metal door. I whirled at the sound of rapid footsteps. It was Otto. He looked awful, with dark circles under his eyes. “I need you,” he rasped.
I froze. What was wrong with him? Had he actually been sick? I tried to keep the locker door between us, but he pushed his way past it, grabbing my arm in a strong grip. Grimacing in pain, I twisted until I wrenched out of his grasp, but he just grabbed me again with his other hand. He may have looked sick, but he was strong and fast. “What are you doing?” I cried. What was happening? He wasn’t going to really hurt me, was he? That would be crazy! We were at school. A lot of people had gone home, but there were still clubs going.
He hissed, “Only you have the key.”
Struggling to wrench my wrist away, I choked out, “What are you talking about?” I kicked his leg and he let me go in surprise, but then grabbed my shoulders.
Bizarrely, he leaned in as though to kiss me, and his wet, rubbery lips slobbering against the side of my face. I wanted to scream but it came out as a squeak. Terrified and disgusted, I shoved him away and ran for the stairs.
He thundered after me, hands clutching at my legs, but then there was a bang, a blast of light, smoke. I screamed and looked back…
My eyes snapped open. We were on the lake, our shoes back above the water. We were still in our circle, everything dark except small hints of moonlight glimmering on the ripples of the lake’s surface. Everyone’s expressions were unreadable in the darkness. I croaked, “It was an accident. He wasn’t hurt that bad. He got super religious after that and switched schools. Even if I had the power to curse someone, would I waste haunting energy on a random kid?”
But I could picture how he did look like he was suffering, his hair all stringy and his cheeks getting hollow. Then I grimaced, thinking how he’d come after me. If I hadn’t… I don’t know what would’ve happened…
Gita said, “Midnight, tell us straight. Are you a demon? Or friends with demons?”
“I don’t know what else to tell you. I’ve done all your rituals and challenges. When will you believe me?”
Gita snapped, “What were you really doing in the temple that night? Why didn’t you transfer until senior year? No one does that. Are you running from something?”
She leaned towards me, and I felt like the circle was closing in on me, the water rising and rising, past my thighs, up to my waist, freezing my chest, then up to my chin.
Gita pressed. “And there’s your parents.”
I stiffened, craning my neck up to keep my face above the water. What did she know? I hated feeling like she knew something I didn't know about my own family.
“Your father doesn’t seem to practice magic despite poor financial circumstances.”
My brow furrowed. “You’ve been researching me?”
Gita continued. “And what about your mother? Perhaps she had demon blood, or was involved with something evil. What do you know about her pro-demon tendencies?”
“She wasn’t pro-demon! If anything—” Luckily I sputtered as water threatened to enter my mouth, before I could say anything incriminating about Mom. We were all submerged up to our necks.
Alisdair tried to interject. “Gita—”
“Does she really not know?” She looked around at Alisdair and Tomo.
Alisdair’s voice was uncharacteristically stern and commanding. “Gita, stop. It was just a rumor long ago.”
I was at a loss for words, outraged and confused, but also fearful of what it could mean. My mother could never hurt anyone, could she? But a doubting voice in the back of my head wondered, “Why don’t you know more?” and I was ashamed not to have a good answer.
Gita pushed, “You might have everyone else fooled, but I see through you.” She leaned towards me, and I felt like the circle was closing in.
“Stop!” I shouted. “Leave me alone!”
Without thinking, I tore my hands free.
As if the floor dropped from under me, I plunged deep into the lake, gasping as cold water enveloped and immobilized me. I opened my mouth and water poured into my lungs. I choked and thrashed but couldn’t see anything. It was so dark. The water was clouded with muck from my thrashing, hiding the lake’s horrors. Murky shadows bloomed without indicating which way was up. Calm down! Which way is up? I tried to swim towards the dim light, to slow my heart beat and stop swallowing water, but my lungs were imploding, my ears muffled and mouth gasping for nothing. Water pressed from all sides, my head ached like it was going to burst, and my eardrums throbbed in pain.
Surrounded by freezing water, I felt a touch on my hand. The demon was with me again, and my movements slowed—whether because he was paralyzing me or because I was drowning, I didn’t know. He traced my face, touched my lips, across my jaw, down my neck, over my ribs. He growled, “With you by my side, I can be stronger than you can imagine. I’ll make them all see how they’ve wronged us.” He wrapped me in his arms and squeezed me against his hard chest. I couldn’t move and let him grab me. In a way, it was comforting to relax into nothing, to let myself drown in darkness. “I’m always with you, us against the world. Soon they’ll be under our thrall. You just have to let me in. We’re made for each other. Can’t you see? Let me in.” That did sound tempting, in a way, to stop trying and let him take over everything. Could it get worse?
Then I felt a burning in my face, all down my throat and lungs. I choked and turned my head, a river of warm water flowing out of my mouth and nose. The water coming from inside me was hot compared to my cold skin and the freezing ground beneath me.
When I opened my sore eyes, Alisdair was leaning over me, wiping wet hair and sand from my face. His hands felt like the only warm thing in the world and I instinctively leaned into him.
“She is a demon!” Gita shrieked. “I knew it! I was right! We have to tell Dean Bigwen.”
I struggled to rise and Alisdair murmured, “Whoa, slow down,” while pushing me back.
Tomo’s face entered my field of vision. “We should take her to the infirmary.”
“I’m fine,” I coughed.
“She’s not a demon,” Alisdair said. “She wouldn’t have agreed to the ritual if she were.”
Tomo spoke slowly and carefully. “She might not have known. Although she didn’t technically drown—”
“Because Alisdair saved her,” Gita broke in. She looked at Alisdair. “For a moment I thought you were going to drown too.”
“She seemed close to drowning,” Tomo continued. “I’ve never done the ritual before so I’m not sure about the range of normal results. The other clues… are ambiguous.” He paused in thought.
“I can’t get in trouble again,” I managed to whisper, my voice hoarse. “Don’t take me to the infirmary.”
Gita’s voice was angry. “If you’re not a demon, did you try to drown to get pity points? To get us in trouble? What's your plot?”
Alisdair argued, “You can’t blame her for everything.”
I coughed hoarsely but eventually made my voice loud enough to be heard. “You know I didn’t lie during the ritual. If I’m a demon, I’m obviously not aware of it. Any of you could be in the same position. How would you want to be treated in that case? I agree something strange is going on and I want to figure it out more than anyone.”
Everyone was quiet at this. I gained my senses enough to look around, and saw that everyone was soaking wet and dripping steadily.
Then Alisdair started to help me stand up, pulling his jacket over my shoulders, the only dry clothing any of us had. I dimly remembered he’d folded it up on the bank of the lake before we started all this. Smart. “You guys go,” Alisdair said. “I’ll take her to her dorm.”
The others reluctantly left as he helped me up off the wet sand. Mud streaked my skirt and jacket. I wiped my face to look for mud and wondered where else I was dirty.
It was only when Alisdair’s arms were steadying mine that I saw I was shaking. It dawned on me that if it weren’t for him holding me up, I might fall over. I couldn’t help it—I tipped against him and he wrapped his arms around me. Even though everything was damp, it felt so good that I wanted nothing more than to let myself lean on him and never let go. He lightly rested his chin on my head, my ear against his collarbone, the quiet splashes of the water muffled by his firm heartbeat, and it was so safe there that I wanted to hide under his neck and let him take care of me.
I was appalled when I realized I was making crying noises. When did that start? But now, in the caring presence of this boy, tears were coming out of me and I couldn't stop. Not just small tears either but big, heaving sobs. At least the others had gone. I tried to turn away and hide my face but Alisdair just held me tighter. “It’s ok. You’re ok.”
Of course I was ok! But my normal strength was failing me. I whispered, “Why are you helping me?”
He just murmured nonsense like that into the top of my hair and for a moment I let myself stop thinking, knowing and feeling nothing but the tickle of his breath on my scalp. It was so intimate. No one had ever held me like this. Except the demon. But this was nothing like that. For one thing, the demon was a dream, and a demon, and he kept trying to molest me… Alisdair wasn’t touching me like that. Or was it like that? Even while I was crying and felt the shudders running through me, I felt a spark of something light up deep inside me.
This is nothing, I told myself. I just had a shock, but I’m fine. Nevertheless, I let myself lean against Alisdair for another few big gulps of air before finally pulling away. He kept his hand on my arm and produced a crumpled tissue from his jacket.
I sniffled loudly and realized with horror that my nose was running and that I really needed that tissue. I snatched it with shaky hands and looked down so he wouldn't see me blowing and wiping my nose. Its dryness seemed like a merciful miracle.
He said, “Let’s go to the infirmary. We won’t tell them what happened.”
“I’m fine.” I was glad to hear my voice sounded almost normal, just a bit watery.
“I know. But do me a favor, Midnight? Don’t blame yourself. Or Gita. Or those people from your high school.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “What do you care? It’s ancient history.”
“It’s important for our souls.”
I didn’t know what to say. Was Alisdair a compassionate hero on top of everything else? I glanced up and saw he was already looking into my eyes. A feeling of déjà vu swept through me, reminding me of what it was like when we were practice partners in class. Without trying, I saw the glowing threads attaching my heart to his heart. What did I know about Otto and the kids from Lincoln?
Through Alisdair, I saw them with fresh eyes. I don’t know what happened to Otto, but he had seemed genuinely scared for his life. Also, through Alisdair, for the first time, I saw a cloud hanging over Otto, like his light was dimmed.
I pictured the girls crowded around me, their mean looks. One girl had neat, even rows of thin, white scars disappearing up her sleeves. There must’ve been dozens of them. She didn’t even try to cover them. Did anyone ask her about them or try to help? Compared to the lively, curious, tight-knit students at Soulfield, these kids seemed neglected, dull, and lost. Through my connection with Alisdair, I saw threads connecting his heart to each of the kids. The connections weren’t as bright or thick as our threads, and more of a muted, light blue, but connections tugged between him and them, and now from them to me through Alisdair.
I blinked and came out of it. Could he be hypnotizing me or something? I frowned and mentally noted that I needed to research how to defend against psychic attacks.
Alisdair chuckled.
I glanced at him. “What?”
“You still don’t trust me. I mean, you do and you don’t.”
“I said I trusted you in the circle, didn’t I?”
“But out here, you don’t know how to take down the walls in your heart.”
“What if some walls are load bearing?”
“Depends how you want to live.”
I was losing the metaphor, but I wondered if Alisdair was sneaking in through the cracks, walls or no walls.
“You’re so easy to read, Midnight.”
“I’ve never heard that before.” I glanced at Alisdair, saw his open gaze, and the thought hit me: maybe he could read me. Powers or no powers, maybe he was just good at watching me. I remembered how it felt when we were partnered together in class, like we were melting into one person, how I didn’t know where my breath stopped and his started. What had happened in that class?
He said, “Do you want to partner in psychic arts for the rest of the term?”
How had he known I was thinking of that? Was I that obvious? It had to be magic… What else could it be? I shook my head, too tired to think. “Can we just go to bed? I mean, to my dorm. I’m beat.” I blushed.
Alisdair was too polite to acknowledge my awkwardness, which in some ways made it worse. “I’ll walk with you.”
Even under the rapidly darkening sky, I noticed how nice his hair looked while it was wet and rumpled and wished there were more light so I could appreciate it more. I hesitantly ran a hand through my own wet hair and immediately regretted it, my fingers stuck in a tangle. “I can make it on my own,” I mumbled as I tried to extricate my hand from my own hair.
But he ignored me, wouldn’t let me walk to my room by myself. He went with me the whole way, going slowly, his hand at my elbow, our shoes squelching together, leaving a watery trail of footsteps. I could feel him watching me the whole time. If I fell, would he really catch me? I was too tired to test it. Despite also having just been in the lake, he was so warm and I let myself lean into his solid heat.
Absently, I wondered what my mother would think of Alisdair. She’d probably hate him the way she’d hated all the boys she suspected had any interest in me. Not that Alisdair was interested in me, or vice versa. My mind was wandering to strange places because I was so tired. The thought flitted by that I should be asking him about the truth about my parents, but I felt too tired. Not now.
When we got to my room, I stared dumbly at the door until Alisdair said, “Keys.” My hands shook as I fumbled for them, and I couldn't find my pocket, let alone keys. Alisdair reached into my pocket himself, his knuckles brushing my hip through the fabric, burning through the freezing numbness. He opened the door to reveal that Eila Lei was gone, and the cats were nowhere in sight, although the smell of their food wafted towards us.
Alisdair kicked the door shut and steered me to bed, pulling the blanket back before flinging it over me. I stuck my legs out past the edge, not wanting to get mud on the bed, and he grabbed my ankle to unlace my shoe, one after the other, before tucking my feet in. “Do you need help with your clothes?”
I shook my head, blushing fiercely, and started tugging my wet pants and socks off from under the blanket. Even with the blanket, I still shivered, and he grabbed the comforter off Eila Lei’s bed and piled it on me.
“I’m muddy,” I protested, although I knew that her comforter was mainly for the cats. Wordlessly, he tucked it under my chin and shoulders, packing me up like a fragile package that might break in transit.
He disappeared briefly before bringing a mug of piping hot chocolate. For a moment, my fuzzy brain imagined I was home with my mother. When we spent the afternoon in bookstores, she always got me hot chocolate piled with whipped cream… How had Alisdair known it was my favorite? Was he reading my mind again like Dean Bigwen had seemed to? That would be a major violation. Or maybe he had seen me drink hot chocolate in the cafeteria. My mind turned and wondered, did Otto cause this mistrust that Alisdair was talking about, or was it just how I was? I couldn’t let bad experiences traumatize me against trusting boys forever.
Then I wondered in another direction, where had Alisdair gotten hot chocolate so fast? Magic? I stifled a giggle at the thought of him using magic for something so mundane. It was clear why everyone liked him. Was that his power—charisma? Why was he so nice to me? My mind kept skipping from thought to thought, barely coherent. I felt like I heard Alisdair puttering about. Would he stay till I fell asleep? I couldn’t even open my eyes to see.
✦
The demon came to me swiftly. It seemed like my eyes had barely closed before he was upon me. This time, he lay half on me, leaning over me, arms around me, lifting me up to hold me. He was so gentle, despite his huge size. I wished I could open my eyes and see, but I was still paralyzed. He lifted my shirt and slowly undressed me. Unable to move or see, I felt every touch as though my skin were electrified.
“So beautiful,” he breathed in my ear. His claws gently stroked my neck, then down to my chest. “I just want to be close to you and touch you.” He stroked my legs and my hips, up my trembling stomach, and settled his arms under my breasts. He leaned over me and stroked my arm, making tingles run down my body. “We meet in dreams because I was born into a nightmare. But when you free me, I’ll touch you for real.” He held my face in sharp, hard claws, exhaling against my cheek. I felt enveloped in his heat. Was it… Alisdair? Who else was a furnace? What fate was the demon constantly alluding to? My scattered mind couldn’t hold thoughts together. Was this really a dream? I felt like I was going insane with lust. Was I possessed by a demon like Gita said?
“I want you,” he whispered. I felt him lie beside me, turning my body so that he spooned behind me. He smelled of musty earth, rainy petrichor forest, sweat, vetiver grass, a million wild, powerful, strange scents that filled my head, suffocating me.
We lay like this all night, me wishing I could see him and speak to him. Tickled and scratched by his thick fur, I longed to move, but I was helpless and limp as he softly petted my hair, neck, and chest. Why didn’t he speak to me, and tell me more of who he was? I hoped it was a dream. But did part of me want it to be real? Overwhelmed by everything, I let the demon’s words wash over and drown me.
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