Page 98 of Big Little Spells
Jacob nods, and he and I look at each other for a moment that seems to go on too long. Because he knows. He watched Emerson sacrifice herself and nearly succeed. Love, I think again. He loves her and he almost lost her.
And would have done anything to save her. I remember him healing her out there in the fields, how much it took out of him. How much more he would have given.
All for love.
“But...why?” Ellowyn asks.
“Whatever he’s planning he doesn’t want me to know.” I blow out a breath. “But I know it’s for me. Or maybe even for us.”
“There’s a pattern,” Jacob says then. “If we’re thinking of the flood as step one, Emerson didn’t have to sacrifice herself to stop the flood, to save the town. She had to be willing to.”
“I think it’s the willingness to do it that matters.” Georgie is sitting up straighter, nodding. “There are lots of unwilling sacrifices, sure, but all the books make it clear that the real magic is in surrendering to the knife or the ritual or whatever it is. Knowingly giving yourself over to your end is powerful, deep magic.”
I tell myself this isn’t the time to think about prophecies. Or how I’ll be the death of Nicholas Frost, like it or not.
“If he really does try, and it’s the thought that counts, then we have to be willing to try to save him,” I say quietly instead. “He’s willing, but that doesn’t mean he has to succeed.”
Jacob nods. Everyone else joins him.
Except Zander. “What for?” he asks. “He’s already lived longer than he should have. Longer than other people, better people, get.”
“He’s part of the coven,” Emerson says before I can work up a response through my shock. Because I didn’t see that coming. She looks at me. “And Rebekah loves him.”
This does not seem to soothe Zander any. “I didn’t agree to any immortal in our coven.”
“It doesn’t need agreement, Zander,” Emerson returns. “This is the way it is.”
“Already playing dictator, Em?”
I want to snap at Zander, but Jacob shakes a head at me. Emerson holds up a hand.
In this moment, she’s the Warrior, the leader. Not our friend and family. And somehow the shift doesn’t bother me the way I thought it would. “I know you’re tired. In all aspects. I know all the what-ifs hurt. If you need a break, take one. No hard feelings.”
“Fine.” Zander lets the crystal fall to the table with a clunk. And then he walks out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
Leaving behind a heavy silence while we all decide who’s the best person to go after him.
Emerson makes a move while Ellowyn bites at a fingernail and deliberately makes no eye contact, but I find myself standing. Driven by more than just the need to ease my hurting cousin’s feelings. Something more intuitive, more magical, within me knows I’m the one who needs to do this.
So, I walk out. He’s standing in the yard, like he meant to fly away but couldn’t. I have a flash of something. Him and Emerson out here, not long ago. An evening. But it’s the past again, when I should see future.
I push it away, because this is about the present.
“I’ll come back in,” he says when I approach. He’s staring hard in the direction of the river that’s not visible from this vantage point. “Just needed some air.”
“You don’t have to come back in. Not if you don’t want to.”
He shrugs. “Might as well.” Then he kicks at a rock in the ground. “She’s not going to make it, Rebekah.”
I know he means Aunt Zelda. Who hasn’t texted me today, even though the sun is up now. I know it, and I think he might be right, and still... “We don’t know...”
“We do know. Your immortal said it himself. There’s nothing to be done. Jacob can’t fix her, and I don’t know anyone who’d try harder. But we’ve failed.”
It’s not the days that matter, she texted me once. They blend into each other. What you remember are the seasons. The sweet years.
I want to break down into sobs, facing this thing I don’t want to face, but once again, this isn’t about me.
“Zander. It isn’t your failure. It’s an illness.”