Chapter Eleven
When Beck's blue eyes first iced my skin in the cafe, I would have never believed that the same man would help me conduct a spell in my bedroom. A day ago, I didn't know that magic even existed. I was worried about Nationals and my figure skating routine, and my biggest drama was how Pete's mom utterly despises me. Now, I'm sitting cross-legged in the middle of a salted circle, centered with three lit candles and werewolf opposite me.
"Okay," I let out a whoosh of air to decompress my nerves. Though I've never cast a spell, well, outside of a school play, I can't help that part of me thinks this is really cool. "So, we've got the candles lit and the flower has been ground up into a bowl."
I pick up the eight ounce glass to my right and pour water into the bowl. Chunks of yellow petals and green leaves float atop the liquid until they're saturated enough to sink.
"This is kind of cool," I say. "Now, the rest of the directions basically say that we need to drown everything else out and focus on what we want to accomplish."
"Friggin witches," Beck mumbles, his face incredulous.
"This is fun and you know it."
"Eh, not so much," he replies. "Can't say I'm fond of magic."
"But you're best friends with a witch?"
Beck shrugs, "Doesn't mean I have to love the fact that she can mute me with a snap of her fingers."
I laugh, "that's definitely the next spell on my to-do list."
"Can we get on with this?"
I nod, shaking out my limbs in a quick effort to relax them. "Alright, you ready?"
He grunts and I take it as a yes. Then, I pick up the ripped directions that Damien snuck me, and I begin chanting the scribbled words.
"Veer-um revel-autumn, veer-um revel—"
"You're butchering it," Beck snaps before snagging the paper out of my hands. He scans over the words for barely a second, and then snorts, "Truth revealed...that's it? That's all you have to say?"
"Like I know how this stuff works!" I snatch the paper back from him and try to smooth out the crinkles he made. "I just want my memories back so I can get on with my life."
His mouth drops and I can't tell if he's annoyed, confused, or angry...until he stands up and rips his jacket off my bed.
"Wait, where are you going?"
He's already yanking the second leather sleeve over his arm when I stand too.
"You kidding? Why would I risk my life, or Olivian's, for you? You know, since you're just gonna act like all this means jack shit when it's done? " He fumes, practically spitting out his words. "You know what? Don't even bother with the spell. You're better off just taking a damn pill and forgetting about us all together."
He weaves around the circle of salt, and I reach to grasp his arm. The act makes me feel like I'm nine again; begging Dad not to leave after another heavy argument with Mom, but the difference with this situation is that Beck actually stops. He's paused with one hand in mine and the other on the door knob, and though his voice was hard before, he looks more exhausted than he does tempestuous.
"Look, I'm just freaked out okay," I sigh, letting go of his cool fingers. "I mean, what happens when I get my memories back and it turns out I'm being poisoned by someone close to me? What am I supposed to do if it's my mom or dad, or even Pete?"
He only frowns as a response.
"I'm not sure I'm equipped to handle such a betrayal."
He takes a moment in this silence and then says, "Conall, push past the superficial emotions for a sec. Why would someone want your memories wiped? Think about it...you must have heard or seen something damming—something strong enough to drive someone to debilitate you."
An eerie chill spiders across the back of my neck, "You think I witnessed a murder or something? Like someone using magic to do something horrible?"
"It's a possibility." Beck shrugs. "I mean, just think about what you might know. The risk of betrayal is minor in comparison."
"Well, whatever it was, I can't do this without you. I know I promised Olivian that I wouldn't get you involved, but you're the only one I think I can trust." I glance around at the flickering candles, then to the bowl of drowning petals. "I'm just not sure how to process all of this. Just yesterday, my biggest concern was quitting theatre. Now, I'm like, reading weird Latin spells and pretending to be Sabrina. Well, Sabrina with a talking wolf instead of a cat."
He snorts, and I give him my best set of pleading eyes. "Please, can you just...stay?"
He grunts something inaudible and I refrain from celebrating my persuasive skills as he reclaims his spot inside the circle. He lifts his hand to brush back his loose hair, "Don't waste my time, got it?"
I mimic him by sitting in the circle again and ready myself, spell in hand.
"Okay, smarty pants, how do I pronounce—"
"Way-room ray-way-lot-toom..." He says the phrase slowly. "Repeat it, and really focus on what you want to do. Focus on the outcome."
I nod, taking a moment to breathe out, breathe in, and breathe out again.
"Verum Revelatum...Verum Revelatum..."
I repeat this this phrase twice more and try to focus as directed, but part of me is still nervous at the boggling thoughts of who, what, when, and why.
"Verum Revalatum," I finalize, and when I open my eyes, all I see is Beck. Nothing has changed; not his hard stare or the way his face is spread with boredom.
I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to kick this bowl across the room and set the ring of salt on fire, but I can't move.
It didn't work. I had a choice, two solid options of reverting back to my old life or continuing on with the new one, but now I have no choice. Now I'm stuck in limbo.
"Guess magic isn't for everyone."
We don't say anything for a moment; we just stare at the flickering candles until one of us does something. The first to move is Beck. He grabs the paper to re-read the instructions, and then I stretch to relight one of the burnt out candles.
He's mumbling the instructions to himself, but I let the words drown out against the faint hum of buzzing heater; I hear the sound, feel the rush of the hot air blowing my hair across my back, and something ignites inside me. It's strong, it's fiery, and it somehow crumbles the impossibly heavy weight of defeat.
I shut my eyes tight, preventing any sort of tears from cascading down.
"I need to remember," I say, opening my eyes to meet his. I repeat the statement, and for the first time, I actually mean it. "I want to remember you."
Beck's eyes are strong on mine, his face unreadable. When he opens his mouth to reply, he pauses and points to the floor. The circle of salt is hovering above the carpet, rotating around us like a ring around Saturn. I touch a floating grain with the tip of my forefinger, and it jettisons across the room like debris in space.
And as if I pressed a button, a blinding light bursts from the bowl of ground Agrimony.
"Whoa," I whisper. Rays of white and gold glitter between us, filling my room with a brightness and warmth equavalent to the sun.
"This is normal right?"
Beck snorts. "What part of spell casting is normal?"
"Well, what am I supposed to do now? The directions didn't say anything about drinking a liquidified sun."
He grabs the paper, skimming over it quickly, "Read, drink, repeat. That's the last direction."
Read. Drink. Repeat. The words ricochet through me. Read. Drink. Repeat.
"Verum Revelatum...Verum Revelatum..." I say, and as I pick up the bowl, the sunlight is sucked down into the bowl, spinning into a tornado of yellow petals and tea-colored liquid. As the tornado spins faster, the flower disintegrates like sugar in hot water.
I lift it further and as soon as the bowl touches my lips, I drink.
The syrupy liquid swells inside my mouth, and instantly, I want to vomit. The concoction tastes like dirt and apricots, but I force myself to down every drop.
I keep telling myself that I need this—that my desire to learn the truth is stronger than my tolerance for disgusting textures. I repeat this internally, and though barely, it helps combat the bile threatening to rise.
"Verum Revelatum," I finish, and when the bowl hits the floor, the floating ring around us plummets, scattering little pebbles of salt across the carpet.
"Well, that was—" Beck clears his throat, "—something."
I half-nod at him, distracted by the sudden tingle swelling beneath my skin. The sensation that pulses through me is bizarre, like my blood's been lit on fire, but I can't feel the pain of a burn.
"I feel weird," I wheeze. The deeper I try to breathe, the hotter my body feels.
"What's the matter with you? Conall?"
I shake my head, coughing out hot puffs that taste like smoked meat.
Beck moves swiftly out of my room, and for a brief second, I think he's stranded me to choke on my own air. But, he returns just as quickly as he left, and he's shoving the bowl into my face.
"It's water. Drink."
Through fits of coughing and gasping, I manage to consume some of the water without choking. I shiver as the rush of cool water courses through my system, like jumping out of a hot tub into a swimming pool. I can even imagine my lungs steaming with the contrast in temperatures.
"You good?" He asks, still crouched in front of me.
"Yeah, I think—" My stomach gurgles, and reflexively, I lurch forward, vomiting out a thick, silver-tinted tar.
"Sorry," I whisper, and when I look up at Beck, his eyes are shut tight, the inner corner of his brow twitching towards his nose.
He grumbles, "Friggin witches."