“Maybe that’s why I moved here,” I say. I’m still holding the end of her braid, like a stubborn child vying for a girl’s attention. “Maybe my body knew this place was important.”
When Secora looks back at me, her scowl is back. I don’t take it personally. I only smile at her, twisting her braid between my fingers.
“Did you mean it?” she asks. Her voice is sharp, but I can hear every bit of insecurity within it. “About the dilapidated castle?”
She’s not talking about the castle, not really.
“Yes, Secora,” I say. “I mean it. I imagine I won’t be welcome in the Day Realm after this. It might take me some time, but I’ll establish myself in the Night Realm. And once I do, once I have a house—whether it’s dilapidated or not—I’ll ask you to live there with me. Nothing would make me happier.”
Her eyes shine with tears, but she blinks rapidly, chasing them away. With a rough clear of her throat, she returns her attention to Astoria Lake’s shoreline.
“I kick in my sleep.”
“I can take it,” I say, rather than pointing out she’s yet to kick me in her sleep. “Whatever your quirks, I can take them. Iwantthem.”
Secora makes a strange, choking sound. Then she’s surging into my arms, wrapping all four of her limbs around me. I easily adjust her weight, holding one hand beneath her bottom and the other on the back of her neck. She buries her face against my chest, squeezing me in a tight hug.
When she finally pulls back, she takes a small glass vial from the pocket of her dress. It’s smaller than my thumb, filled with an off-white mist, and secured with a wide cork. She presses it into my palm.
“Break this if anything goes wrong,” she says, staring at the vial, rather than me. “Anything at all, Elliot, and I’ll be there within two minutes.”
“Nothing will go wrong,” I assure her. “But if it does, I promise, I’ll signal.”
“Okay,” she whispers. She kisses my neck, right above the collar of my shirt. Though I haven’t checked, I imagine there’s a bruise on my skin beneath it. A wonderful mark in the shape of Secora’s mouth, a beautiful, temporary brand.
“Okay,” I repeat. “I’ll see you back here in one hour.”
Secora untangles herself from me, and I gently return her feet to the floor. With a final kiss to the crown of her head, I leave the porch and don’t allow myself to look back.
I takethe trolley to the main square in a haze of urgency and uncertainty. I know it’s my own anxiety clouding reality, but I swear, time is moving differently now. I’m all too aware that Secora is likely already on the trolley behind this one. She’ll be across the street from the council building, ready to interfere if Mama doesn’t willingly help me home.
She will though, of course. It’s Mama’s way. All throughsecondary school and university, my friends teased me for the way she coddled me. I’d act embarrassed and annoyed, but truthfully, I never minded. I knew that I was loved and that if I ever needed help, Mama would be the one to offer it.
I’m a grown man now, but I know her answer will be the same. She’ll fuss over me and insist on walking me all the way to my bedroom. Secora won’t need to get involved until we’re safely on my property. At that point, the possibility for failure goes way down. Then it’s only a matter of subduing her and transporting her to the Night Realm.
Once she’s safely in the Night Realm, I’ll be able to sort the logistics of everything else. I’ll figure out a way to heal her. Secora and I will find a way to strengthen the sunwalker spells. Hopefully, Mama will eventually understand my point of view. She’ll realize peace is possible between the witches and the vampires, and someday, she’ll forgive me for what I’m about to do.
I’m still trying to convince myself of the last part when I enter the council building. The entryway looks the same as ever. It’s a large rectangular room with dreary yellow walls, deep brown hardwood floors, and a few antique paintings on the walls.
However, there is one stark, worrisome change.
I stare at Vera’s desk. In all my years visiting Mama, I’ve never seen her desk empty. I presume she takes breaks to go to the bathroom and eat, but I’ve never seen it for myself. She’salwayshere with her dramatically inflated sense of importance.
I glance up at the wall clock hanging above her wide desk. It’s four minutes past ten o’clock. Too early for a lunch break. Too late for her not to be here yet. On the day of the annual meeting, it doesn’t make sense for her to be elsewhere. Her desk should be a chaotic mess of last-minute notes and sortedparchments. Instead, there is only a small message in the center of her tidied space.
Vera Pilskey is at the annual council meeting. She will return by four o’clock.
My stomach sours. I look up at the clock again. The meeting isn’t due to start for two hours.
Vera is precisely the kind of woman who would arrive hours early to a meeting, but if she’s already gone, there’s a good chance Mama is too. Luckily, I don’t have to worry for long. Within seconds, I hear the sharp tap of Mama’s heels coming from the direction of her office.
I force myself to be calm, to act natural. Just because Vera’s schedule is unexpected doesn’t mean anything is wrong.
“Elliot,” Mama says as I turn. She’s wearing an orange dress with long sleeves and a neckline that almost reaches her chin. Her fingertips are just visible at the end of her flowing sleeves, but it’s enough to see their sickly grey tint. They’re decaying, dying along with everywhere she’s hidden.
“Mama,” I say. Breath rushes from my lungs, and guilt hungrily claims the space it’s left. “I thought I missed you.”
“Oh, no,” she says. “Vera left to help Mister Rierson with prep. Apparently our numbers are larger than ever this year.”
