Nick should be the one to take over the coven. He’s hungry for it.
Her lips press together. “Nickolas must stay put until we know more.”
The knee-jerk reaction to deny it all rises again. I understand what she’s saying, but I desperately, maddeningly don’t want it to be true. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
The corners of her eyes wrinkle. “Then you need to stop drinking your Angelica tea—and cancel that wedding for good.”
Both parts of that sentence floor me, so I tackle them one at a time. “You said I should never stop drinking it.”
Truth be told, I haven’t been as disciplined in drinking it the last couple of days. I skipped it the night Kerri died and the next morning, too. Is that why I was able to cast the spell? Because I didn’t have as much Angelica in my system?
Mabel gathers my hands in hers. “The time has come for you to choose: do you belong here, with mortals? Or are you ready to embrace your magic? Because you can’t accompany me to Faerie without it.”
“Me? Going to Faerie?” I take a step back, shaking my head. “I barely have any magic at all.”
Not long ago, I would’ve said none, but the effects of the séance shook me to my core.
“Maxine, you have more powers than you remember. I shielded you from them to protect you, but I can’t coddle you anymore. I’ve done you a disservice letting you think you belonged here with mortals, because I desperately wanted something else for you—a simpler life. That was foolish of me. You’ll wait for me here while the tea works its way out of your system. I’ll explain everything when I return.”
“You said I could choose to stay here.”
Her face wrinkles like she swallowed a mouthful of myrtle seaweeds. “You could stay, that’s true. But what happens after you marry an architect you met a few months ago? When he sees who you truly are, and what your blood howls for, he’ll run amile.” Her eyes soften, and she squeezes my upper arm. “We can only hide from ourselves for so long, darling.”
The spotlight above our heads bursts into sparks. I want to say she’s wrong—that she misread the situation, that I’m sure about my decision to marry Lachlan—but she always knows when I’m lying.
Her gaze drifts past me, her tone shifting as if addressing someone else entirely. “And you… You’ll have to decide if you belong to the light or if you’ll vanish into the dark.”
She’s not speaking to me anymore. She’s speaking to E.
My pulse swirls.
“So he’s not involved in all this?” I ask.
“Oh, no. He’s just…lost.” She frowns, the way she does when she’s weighing something heavy, or even doubting herself. “What’s meant for you won’t walk past you. It was only a matter of time before you two met.”
“Why won’t you tell me anything about who I was?” E asks quietly. “At least tell me my name.”
Her expression softens, her eyes creasing with a mix of warmth and regret. “Even when you knew your name, you didn’t know who you were. You hurt a lot of people trying to figure it out. No matter your past, you need to decide who you are now, and what you mean to do with your life.”
“Do ghosts have a life?” he huffs.
That faint trace of annoyance I remember from the day I told her I was getting married shines in her eyes. “Do you want a life, my starlight?”
Starlight…The tenderness in her tone quickens my pulse.
“Who would choose this empty existence over the alternative?” E mutters begrudgingly.
Mabel takes a careful sip of tea. “That’s the question, ain't it?”
I’m not sure if I’m relieved or freaked out that E isn’t just a construct of my mind—or a fever dream sent to prey on me. Mabel likes him, I can tell.
She gulps down the rest of her fortifying tea and sets the cup aside. “I have to go.”
Walking to the sunlit window, she slides it open, letting the late autumn breeze rush in.
I spring to my feet. “Already?”
She leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. “You two be good. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
