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So you’re saying they’re witches?
There’s actually a lot to support her claim. The unexplainable events that had occurred like my room being trashed with ‘look what you made me do’ written in large drippy red letters, only to have it be totally fine when I went back with Cohen Faulkner. Then there was my attacker in the woods. How my coat had been cut by the knife he carried, only to find it mended after I’d had a panic attack in front of The Effers.
Beyond the strange events, there was the school itself. If I pull up a map of the campus in my mind, it looks suspiciously like a five-pointed star with the buildings acting as the points and the weird cathedral right in the center of them.
Weird symbols cover the auditorium, nothing like the normal religious iconology that normally adorns churches. Moons and skeletal hands, spiders and serpents. Things that just have no place in a house of worship.
Unless, of course, they’re worshiping something else, Rosalind Juliet.
I shake the thought from my head. They wouldn’t be worshiping something else because witches don’t exist. Get a grip, girl.
When I disembark the plane, I can hardly contain myself. Even though I didn’t sleep at all on the flight, I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet as I wait for people to just move faster. Eager energy is radiating out of me, the need to see my sister is pounding through me. She makes everything better.
When I reach the departure area, I scan the crowd for the face that I know as well as my own, and let out a little gasp when I catch sight of her, bouncing on her toes, hands waving wildly, bright red hair bundled into a bun on the top of her head. “Ro!”
I halfway want to drop my bags and just run over to her, to hug her and never let her go. But I make myself hold on to my little rolling suitcase and hurry toward her at a quick pace. She meets me halfway and we collide in a tangle of arms and tears and laughing. I sink into her embrace, burying my nose in the collar of her jacket to breathe in her familiar, comforting scent, fighting back a sob.
My sister. My fucking sister. The only person in this entire world that I can count on. I missed her so much. I squeeze her tighter and she lets out a pained laugh before pushing me back to peer into my face. “You look exhausted.”
I nod wearily, my brief surge of energy already waning. “It was a long flight.” And a longer two weeks before that. But I don’t let her know that. She hesitates for half a second before reaching for my bag and then linking her arm through mine.
“Too tired to meet Sam?”
I let out a little squeal and hug her arm. “Of course not! I would stay up for another twenty-four hours if that was the only way to meet her.”
Desi laughs. “Well, it won’t be that long, more like the time it takes for us to get to the hotel, drop off your stuff, and then walk a block to a pub.”
We talk the entire taxi ride to the hotel, sitting next to each other, holding hands like we’re afraid the other is going to slip away from us. I know I need to tell her about the whole leaving the university thing, about the boys finally getting me to leave, but I can’t. Not right now. I’m too tired to have that conversation, to explain to her I was too weak to stick out, to listen to the assholes of the school talk about my dad.
But I will tell her,I promise myself. Before I go, I will tell her I’ve dropped out.
It just might not be until we’re at the airport, right before I leave.
The hotel that we’re staying in is huge and fancy. Sam is apparently very wealthy and has paid for a suite of rooms, so that she and Desi can have their own room on one side of the shared livingroom and I can have mine on the other. Separated by locked doors so that we can have privacy when needed. There’s also a door in my bedroom that leads right into the hall, so if I need to sneak out and avoid her entirely, I can.
Not that I’d want to do that.
I only have a week with my sister and I want to soak up as much Desi time as I can. I hope like hell Sam doesn’t mind.
Once I’ve had the chance to freshen up and change my clothes out of my travel yoga pants and sweatshirt and into a pair of jeans and a navy button up t-shirt with little pink flowers on it, Desi guides me out of the hotel and down the street to a pub that looks just like you’d expect an English pub to look. Dark wood, dim lighting, brass on the bar.
It’s midafternoon, so it’s not terribly busy, just a few patrons that look like they frequent the establishment.
We stop just on the other side of the door, scanning for her girlfriend. “Where is she?” I ask.
Desi lets out a little satisfied sound as she tips her chin at a table in the corner. Her eyes are all soft and luminous and full of what I suspect is love, but she hasn’t said as much to me. “Over there.”
I can’t see that much of her, just dark hair and slim shoulders, but it’s as if she can sense our eyes on her as we head in her direction.
Sam stands up from the table and turns toward me and I stop dead in my tracks, thinking for a moment that some horrible trick is being played on me. But Desi’s grinning at me, watching me expectantly as I stumble forward. Sam moves much more gracefully as she moves to kiss Desdemona and then she grins at me and gives me the most welcoming hug I’ve ever experienced in my life, nearly lifting me off my feet.
When she pulls back, her mouth twisted in a smile that is disturbingly familiar, I get to see her up close. Tall, chestnut hair with a slight wave to it, strong nose, straight eyebrows over blue eyes. She’s exactly what I imagine Hardin would look like if he was a girl. She’s missing the piercings and tattoos though.
Desi’s smile is slowly falling from her face, glancing between the two of us as I just stare at this woman that has captured my sister’s heart. I shake myself. It’s a coincidence. They just look similar. It doesn’t mean anything, even if Hardin is English.
“Sam!” I exclaim, smiling as big as I can’t. “Desi’s told me so much about you!”
“Only half of it was a lie.” She grins, oozing charm that feels far too familiar.
