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My steps slow, and I close my eyes as I pull in a deep breath.
Let’s say, for argument’s sake, I haven’t completely lost my mind. This shadow version of me is real and here and talking to me. But I don’t believe for one second she wants to help me out of the goodness of her heart or whatever.
“And what would be in it for you?” I ask.
“Oh, I can think of a few ways you could repay me.” She steps up beside me, flashing a grin that’s more showing me her teeth than a smile. “You know what? Take your time. Think it over. I don’t mind waiting until you realize you need me.”
Someone with dark magic experience.Admittedly, I don’t know much about the shadow realm, how it works, what our shadow versions do on the other side. She could be telling the truth, but she could just as easily be telling me what she thinks I want to hear.
“I’m not touching a single spell in that book,” I say, but the words don’t have nearly as much conviction to them as they should.
“What’s your plan then? Are you going to wait around and hope that someone else fixes this or are you going to step up? Personally, I don’t think the damsel in distress life suits you, but you’ve sure been milking it lately, haven’t you?”
“I—I amnota damsel in distress.”
“Waiting around for his royal highness to rescue you, or these idiots”—she gestures to the estate—“or my personal favorite”—she fans herself and flutters her eyelashes—“the pack master.”
I grit my teeth but stop before I respond. Is that what I’ve been doing? Ever since I made my deal with Westcott, I hit a low I’ve never experienced before. All of my energy was strictly on survival, on making it through another day. On the outside, maybe thatdoeslook like doing nothing. But it’s felt like I was doingeverything.Giving everything I had, fighting for every breath, every heartbeat. Maybe I look weaker now, incompetent. But surviving has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
But did I lose a part of myself along the way, the part capable of stepping up? The one who took action without question, without fear. Something aches inside my chest, like a plea for that piece of me to return home.
I’m not delusional enough to think I’m safe here, that I can relax now. But maybe it is time to switch out of survival mode.
To wake back up.
“You might think you’re taking the noble route,” she continues. “You’retoo goodfor this kind of magic. Hopefully that clear conscience carries over after the thousands—maybe millions—of innocent deaths that you could have prevented. What’s that saying? Sacrifice one for the good of many?”
Her smile shifts from amusement to something softer, almost genuine, at whatever she sees on my face. “So I’ll ask you again, Valerie. Do you want my help?”
CHAPTERTWELVE
Despite York Academy’srecent evacuation, the town itself looks untouched, like a tornado hopped through the area but missed this one spot. Humans are walking down the sidewalk talking, the store windows full of light. A weird shock of vertigo hits my system, transporting me back to last year before initiation when everything was normal. Or at least what passed for it.
How quickly everything can change.
The only shop on the street that doesn’t look open is the address written on the note in my hand.
Magnolia’s.
The sign on the door is turned toclosed. Although the shop windows are dark, a hint of light peeks through the curtains of the apartment above. I raise my fist to knock, but the door swings open before I have the chance.
Only half of her face is visible as Magnolia looks me up and down. Last time I showed up on her doorstep, I had a death sentence on my head. If she’s surprised I’m alive, she doesn’t show it. If anything, she looks amused.
“I was wondering when I’d see you.”
The door closes between us before I can respond. There’s a clink as she releases the chain, then opens the door enough for me to follow her inside.
Her eyes flick to the backpack thrown over my shoulders. “You foolish girl,” she mutters. “Bringing that book here.”
I stiffen. The bag is securely shut, the book not at all visible. “I—”
“Don’t waste your breath on lies, my dear. I know why you’re here. Come, come.”
Instead of leading me to the office in the rear of the shop as she did the last time I was here, I follow her up the back staircase to her apartment.
The space is as crowded and cluttered as the shop below, lit only by candles flickering from every surface, not a single electric light fixture in sight. She grunts and gestures to the small pink table as she ambles to the kitchen and places a kettle on the stove.
“How did you know I was coming?” I ask as I lower myself into a wooden chair.
