I’ve spent the better part of my life chasing ghosts, contemplating the impossible, enchanted by the uncanny, eager to prove the supernatural. Believing that life is a grand mystery nobody will ever solve. Least of all, me. But man, is it fun to try.
And sure, maybe Dr. Penny had a point. Maybe my obsession was nothing more than an outlet—a way to process my mother’s abandonment, to turn it into something fantastical instead of painful.
Or maybe, it’s always been more.
Not just curiosity. Not just a coping mechanism. Not just a subconscious attempt to connect with my absentee mother, who was drawn to the fantastical herself. But preparation. What if every stake out with Twig, every episode on our podcast,every fascinating mystery and wild possibility was training for this?
An uncanny fate.
An impossible destiny.
A supernatural ending.
I hand Jude my phone and pace the Midnight Garden as dusk gives way to darkness. He sits on the bench like a statue, reading the revelation on my screen. Meanwhile, I’m a bundle of nervous energy, unable to sit at all, let alone sit still.
I place my hand over the locket clasped around my neck. The tiny heartbeat within knocks against my palm. I imagine touching it. My fate and Seraphina’s entwined. The curse returning to its maker. Will it happen right away, I wonder. Or will it take awhile? The revelation didn’t go into that particular detail.
My phone buzzes in Jude’s hand. A message from Twig, probably. Or my dad. I’ve been avoiding both, unsure what to say or how to act given the circumstances.
Seraphina’s end will be my end, too.
But it’s also a way.
To stop the cycle of suffering.
To end the tragedy that has haunted generation after generation.
Jude finishes reading. He looks up, his face pale as a ghost, and shakes his head. “We’ll find another way.”
I give him a helpless shrug. “There is no other way.”
And we’re out of time.
Dante’s comet will blaze brightest in the sky tomorrow, on Halloween.
He stands abruptly.
We switch roles—I am still, and he is pacing.
He white-knuckles my phone in one hand, fists his hair in the other. “I don’t agree to this.”
“You don’t have to agree to this.”
“He needsmyblood.” He clutches his chest like he might tear out his heart. “I was willing to give it tosaveyou, Selah. Not so you could—” But he doesn’t finish the sentiment. He can’t say the word.
I yank the collar of my shirt to the side. “I’m dead either way.”
Jude winces.
I shiver.
And ache.
For him.
For us.
For everything I want but can’t have. Because long ago, evil twisted something good. Poisoned something beautiful. By turning love into a curse.
