She’s evil. She’d deserve it. But I’m no killer, and though I hate to admit it, I wouldn’t stand a chance. I’d be dead before I chose a spell.
“So,” Henry says once we’ve gotten a hold of ourselves. “What is it then?”
“I saw her,” I admit. I look away from Henry, if only to avoid the expression on his face. Past him, through the wide set of windows, the sky is starting to darken. If we delay much longer, we’ll have to take the tunnel back to town. “When I went to the Night Realm for the blood, I ran into trouble. She, uh, helped get me out of it.”
“Why would she do that?” Henry asks. He finally closes the grimoire, settling it on top of the scattered parchments.
“Exactly,” I say. I run a hand through my hair, fingers tense. “I can’t figure it out. All I know is that she helped me, and that when I looked at her, I felt…”
My words trail, and Henry waits patiently while I search for the right ones. The problem is, I don’t know how to explain. My mouth grows dry as I stare out the windows, heart thrumming in rhythm with my racing thoughts.
“I felt like something was missing,” I say finally. My voice grows quiet as I talk, almost without permission. We’re alone in this room, but speaking of Secora Reed in the Day Realm is close to treason. “Up until I saw her, I assumed I’d blocked her from my mind. She killed my best friend. I didn’twantto remember her, you know? But the other day, seeing her…I realized Icouldn’t.”
“What are you saying, Elliot?” he asks. He leans forward, propping an elbow on either knee. “You don’t think?—”
“I do,” I interrupt. “I’m missing memories, Henry, and I’m inexplicably certainshestole them.”
“Elliot…” Henry starts, but his voice trails off until we’re subdued in strained silence.
Outside this room, the center bustles with healers and aides, with the occasional flashing codes and voices too distant to make out. But here, everything is quiet and still. There is only my unsteady breath and the steady tap of Henry’s shoe on the tiled floor.
“What makes you thinkshestole them?”
“I don’t know,” I say. Then, “She acted like she knew me, like she trusted me, but she wasn’t phased that I didn’t know her.”
Henry lets out a quiet hum.
“I used to be morbidly fascinated by her,” he says after a long gap of silence. I look up in surprise, and the next words come out in a rush. “I have a ton of articles on her. Did a few papers. Once I learned of your connection, I stopped researching, of course. But…I have them, if you want to look.”
“Yes,” I say. If I weren’t so desperate, I might feel embarrassed. Instead, I’m shuffling Henry’s parchments into a stack. “Show me everything you have.”
Several hours later,I sit at the kitchen table in Henry’s home. His place is similar to mine. Too large for his needs and a bit messy. Where my house is covered in shades of orange, yellow, and brown, Henry’s is purple and silver. The color scheme gives me a headache, so I’m faced away from the living room, focusing only on Henry’s macabre collection of notes.
I imagine a number of people have a secret obsession with Secora Reed and her infamous murder. As one of the few witches to escape persecution, she’s something of a celebrity.
Not that I’d admit that to Mama.
As Henry works on his research, I comb through information, taking notes as I go. I’d come in with high expectations, and I already know I’m going to leave disappointed.
He’s hoarded dozens of articles, but there’s nothing to tie me to Secora Reed. Nothing besides the Blake family, of course, and I’d already known that one. I sigh as I read through my notes for a third time.
Secora Reed was born a hibernal witch. Both parents died of mysterious brain bleeds when she was eight months old. From eight months until age seven, Secora lived in various orphanages. Complaints were often made of her dark and unpredictable magic. An estival witch, Mrs. Perskey, took mercy on Secora and housed her from age four to five. Mrs. Perskey then died under the same mysterious conditions as Secora’s parents. Following this, Secora was fitted with golden bands to make casting impossible. She received specialized therapy while in an orphanage and continued it while under the careof the Blake family. She remained there until the time of her imprisonment.
I tap my pen on the corner of the parchment. Henry’s notes paint a picture of a troubled child with a vast hunger for chaos. Multiple occasions of magic gone awry in her presence. People hurt. Questions unanswered. Toward the end, even the bands could not control her power. She set a boy on fire, mere weeks before killing Harrison.
Through it all, multiple teachers and caretakers reported the same warning:Secora Reed is dangerous.
They were right, and yet, they failed to stop her.
“Find anything useful?” Henry asks, startling me from my thoughts.
When I look up at him, he’s as bleary-eyed as I feel. We’ve been at this for too long, and I’m only now realizing it’s too late to venture home. I’ll be stuck crashing on his couch, which means my back will hurt like the Mother tomorrow.
“Not really,” I admit.
“Oh come on,” Henry groans. “You can’t tell me that. I spent over a year obsessing over that case. Did you see she set a kid on fire?
“Yeah, I saw it,” I say. I shove the parchments away, letting my head fall against the back of the chair. “It’s just…none of this explainswhyshe killed Harrison.”
