Page 19

Chapter 19

A “Career” in “Psychology”

A cold wave of realization crashes over me. This is why Natalie is afraid to expose me to curses. Her own mother was a victim of one.

From the recesses of my memory, her concerned voice drifts forward. “ Can you breathe okay? ”

I had no idea how bad the truth was.

We get out of the car, my limbs moving automatically.

“How old were you?” I ask through numb lips.

“Seventeen.” Natalie guides me toward the steam clock with a firm hand on my lower back, keeping me half a step in front of her. We sink through the ground, and I’m ready for the sensation this time, exhaling through the nauseating dizziness.

As we walk down the ivy-lined hallway, she continues. “She was on an assignment in the suburbs. We caught wind of a curse—a musician who asphyxiated. He’d bought a second-hand guitar and was holding it when they found his body. ”

She drops her hand from my back and falls quiet as we cross the lounge, where several people are having lunch. Thankfully, Fiona isn’t there to ask how her mission went at the library.

Walking toward my room, Natalie continues in undertones. “My mom went to get the guitar, and Sophia Madsen showed up.” She spits the name, her hatred simmering. “Mom fought her off. She was always incredible with magic. But Sophia’s just… so twisted.”

My heart breaks into more pieces with each word.

We arrive at my suite, and I let us in and close the door softly. Ethel meows in greeting from my pillow, flashing her claws as she stretches. I distantly register the made bed—the cleaner, Elizabeth, must have come while I was out.

“She caught Mom with a bear trap and took her vials.” Natalie crosses her arms, and her scowl deepens, like she’s walled her grief behind anger. “Left her with a mangled leg and a cursed guitar with no way to neutralize it. She called my dad in a panic, tried to get someone to meet her halfway, but the curse was already working against her. Traffic accidents, a storm, a power outage…”

A shiver rolls through me as she lists the curse’s familiar effects. My stomach roils, and I sink onto the bed.

She sits beside me, her eyes narrowed as the dark memory spills out. “She started to asphyxiate while she was still on the phone with my dad. He didn’t find her body until the next day, an hour from home.”

Sympathy wells up as I imagine the panic they must have felt. My voice quakes. “Natalie… I’m so sorry.”

She gives me a tight-lipped attempt at a smile, her brave face so fragile that my eyes prickle. I take her hand—soft, smooth, and warm. She doesn’t pull away.

“How’s your family doing?” I ask. “Your dad and Sky?”

She studies our entwined hands with her brow pinched. “We’re coping in our own ways. Sky’s hellbent on avenging her. I feel sorry for any Madsen she catches. My dad is… running from it, I guess. He’s never home, always keeping busy as if he hopes to distract himself from reality.”

“And you?”

“I’m…” She lifts a shoulder.

It’s obvious. She’s afraid of losing someone she cares about, so she’s not letting herself care about anyone.

“Do you worry about Sky?” I ask.

“All the time. Even now, I keep waiting to hear from her. I didn’t want to send her after the Madsens, but I learned long ago that I can’t stop her from doing her job. She’ll be okay.”

Seething hatred for the Madsens simmers inside me, intensifying with each piece of information I learn about them. “How do they know to show up wherever there are curses?”

“That’s what we’ve been asking ourselves. Lately, the Madsens have been getting a lot of the same news as we do about potential curse locations.”

“You think there’s a traitor in CSAMM?”

“We launched an investigation the first time it happened. That was weeks ago. Everyone turned up clean. So we’ve either got a really good liar or the Madsens have a secret means of figuring out where we’re going. Today was…”

I study the side of her face. Her steady breaths calm me, her warm scent giving me a cozy feeling. But her brow is furrowed, her lips turned downward, as if she’s dwelling on what happened with Oaklyn—regretting it, even.

“I don’t want you to blame yourself for bringing me into this,” I say. “I brought myself into it. I’m making my own choices.”

“They’re not very smart choices,” she says with a hint of a smile.

“Bad decisions are my thing. I should tell you about when Alyssa taught me to drive when I was thirteen. ”

Natalie sighs and looks at the ceiling, which makes me laugh.

“You’re infuriatingly stubborn, Katie.”

“And you like that about me. Admit it.”

She smiles and doesn’t deny it. My heart thrums.

We’re still holding hands.

“Thank you for telling me this,” I say. The reality that a capable witch was killed by a curse hits hard. It’s possible that Natalie is never going to let me help her, no matter how much I insist I’m okay with the risks.

Her fingers tighten infinitesimally over mine. “Thanks for listening.”

“And thanks for answering my questions earlier—telling me about the different career paths in CSAMM and stuff. I… I liked that you came to class with me. It was nice.” Sociology feels like days ago, but the thrill of having her there with me lingers, a glimmer of happiness beneath everything else.

Natalie’s expression softens. “All of this is going to be detrimental to your degree. You didn’t learn a thing today. You didn’t even attend more than one class.”

I shrug.

The heat of her body beckons me closer, making me want to lean my head on her shoulder and stay like this for a while.

“You know, I’ve never brought anyone into CSAMM before,” she murmurs, the low purr of her voice resonating in my core.

“I figured as much, given everyone’s reaction when we walked in on New Year’s.” Still, it’s nice hearing it.

“I’ve never…” Her throat seems to close, and she tries again. “I don’t typically feel this way. About people.”

My heart skips. What is this way ? Is she saying what I think she’s saying?

Her breaths shorten, and she lowers her gaze to our entwined fingers. Her lips are parted, smooth and full, and I want nothing more than to feel them against mine .

With nothing to lose, I let the words tumble out. “I like you, Natalie.”

Her dark eyes lock onto me, pulling me in. A falling sensation sweeps through me. I’ve never been drawn to anyone like this before, never been so attracted with every cell in my body.

She moves decisively, lifting her hand to my cheek. I stay still as her thumb brushes my lip, sending a tantalizing, molten surge through me. Her palm is soft as it slides around to the back of my neck. Heat pools in my middle, desire building until I can’t take it anymore.

Her scent fills me. I lean closer, needing to taste her.

“This isn’t…” she trails off, her fingers tightening on my neck. Her lips part.

It’s finally going to happen!

But then I see it—a widening in her eyes. A sharp inhale. A flicker of doubt.

“Natalie,” I whisper, pleading.

She pulls back and winces as if in pain, regret flashing in her eyes. “We can’t.”

No!

The warmth in my belly turns cold. My lips tingle, yearning for what they nearly had. I reach up to lay a palm over her hand, holding it to my neck. “Why not? I know everything now. I’ve been exposed to curses and magic, and I’m still here.”

She traces a thumb along my jawline, soft and tender, before dropping our hands to her lap. “You’ve only seen the surface. It’s not that simple.”

I squeeze her fingers. “Tell me, then.”

A pause.

She stands abruptly, putting distance between us, and combs her hair back. It’s a mess from the fight with Oaklyn, her bun barely hanging on. “Shit,” she whispers.

As she fights with the elastic and shakes her mane free, letting it cascade over her shoulders like a shampoo commercial, my brain stalls. I didn’t think it was possible for her to look any more sexy, but God . A primal urge to jump on her flares to life inside me.

She wrestles her hair into a high ponytail, which is worse because now I can see the full breadth of her toned arms.

Get it together, Katie. Jesus.

I avert my gaze, drawing a breath to control my urges.

When she’s done, she huffs, stepping away from me. “This can’t be anything.” She motions between us. “This is strictly forbidden. Punishable, and for good reason. There are things you don’t know—things you should never know.”

I can’t fathom what she’s referring to, and the mystery feeds the ball of frustration in my stomach. I thought I figured her out—curses, earth magic, CSAMM. Apparently, that isn’t enough, and I’ll always be a world apart from her.

“Fine.” I can’t mask the hurt, and my tone comes out cold and flat.

I have every right to be pissed off. She led me on, let me believe she was going to kiss me, and then rejected me again.

There’s a heavy pause.

At least Natalie has the grace to look uncomfortable.

“I promised to show you the courtyard,” she says, all emotion gone from her voice. “Grab your laptop, and you can catch up on the classes you missed this afternoon. I have to go back to UBC to repair the damage.”

Ah, the damage. After seeing what she can do, I’m sure she’ll have the parking lot smoother than ever in about sixty seconds—like none of it happened.

Sitting in a mesh hammock under the open sky, I’m at a loss for what to do next. Following Natalie to the site of a curse was a terrible idea, and I like her too much to keep fighting her. But I can’t ignore my ability—my calling to help find curses. Should I be afraid of whatever Natalie doesn’t want me to know? Is she right to resist how she feels about me, or are we missing out on something amazing?

I rest a foot on the grass and swing the hammock, the ropes creaking on the willow tree’s thick branch. Around me, the courtyard is an oasis nestled between brick walls, so lush and perfect that it must have been crafted by magic. Warm, humid air embraces me, ivy spills down every surface, the trees are as green and leafy as springtime, and a koi pond burbles in the center—which Ethel would love. Longing fills me as I picture her happily watching the fish and birds… and me, making friends with the witches who are currently ignoring me.

Witches walk along a gravel path that winds through everything, while others sit at picnic tables. A pair of older women play mahjong without touching the tiles. On a bench, a slender blonde woman cuddles up next to Sebastian, knitting needles hovering in the air before her, clicking as they create a green scarf. A few teenagers who must be in high school sprawl in the grass with laptops and textbooks, laughing as their pens and highlighters skate over the pages of their own accord.

Surrounded by all these friends and families who’ve known magic all their lives only adds to my loneliness—the sense that I’m an ‘other.’ It doesn’t help that I’m drawing stares but nobody is coming to say hi.

I settle deeper into the hammock and fold my legs under me, opening my laptop. Time to get advice and support from people who have my back. My family, my friends… my community. The people who love me unconditionally.

I video call Mom. My parents have helped me through everything from friendship drama to deciding what to bring to university, and they’ll be able to give me perspective on whether I’m fighting for the wrong goal. I’ll just have to find a roundabout way to ask for their input without bringing up curses, magic, or witches.

Mom answers with a blurry view of her forehead. “Hi, Katie!”

I smile, lighter at the sound of her voice. “Hey!”

She props her tablet on the table and sits. The kitchen behind her is the familiar, eclectic blend of both sides of the family, from Mom’s wooden fork and spoon on the wall to Dad’s moose painting from the prairies. Between the glimpse of home and Mom’s smile, my heart squeezes—especially after the ordeal today. Being safely surrounded by loved ones would be pretty comforting right now.

Dad appears in the frame, cut off at the neck. “Who’re you videoing?”

“Who do you think?” Mom asks with a bit of irritation.

He leans down, squinting at me. “Hey, kiddo! Wow, looks nice there. How was class?”

“Um…” The memory of Oaklyn trying to stuff me into the back of her car flashes across my mind—and Natalie coming to save me, and the two of them hurling bits of earth at each other. “Fine.”

Mom angles her head back so she’s looking down at the screen through her reading glasses. “You look skinny and pale. Have you been eating your vegetables?”

I sigh. Okay, maybe I’m not that homesick.

“I’m eating well, Mom. I’m just a little tired from…” I trail off. From what, the holiday break? One day of class? Time to get into what’s on my mind. “Anyway, I was wondering something.”

Dad sits beside Mom, both of them leaning in with interest.

A flutter of anticipation fills me. First, I want to find out if there’s a reason behind my ability—a connection to magic somehow. “Do we have anything weird or interesting in our lineage? Anyone who can do or see… supernatural things…?”

Dad’s brow furrows. “What the hell are you talking about? ”

His blunt words yank me back to reality. Do I think I’m going to suddenly learn that Dad’s great-great-grandma comes from Salem? Heat floods my cheeks.

Feeling like an airhead, I mumble, “Never mind.”

Mom hums and puts a finger to her lips. “We did have shamans on my mother’s side.”

My eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

She breaks out into laughter. “No. Is this for a project or something?”

Dad joins her in chuckling, nudging her playfully.

I scowl at them. “Yeah, a project.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Mom tilts her head. “We’re farmers through and through.”

“Except for your ol’ Uncle Bill,” Dad says. “He could talk to the dead. Every Thursday was graveyard night.”

“Okay, okay.” I roll my eyes as they burst into laughter again. They’ve always had the same infuriating sense of humor. “Sorry I asked.”

A scuffle comes from off-camera, and they turn.

“We’re talking to Katie,” Mom says. “Come say hi.”

“Hi,” Nicky says, deadpan.

“Hey dude!” Pearl calls.

They come over with their backpacks on, home from school. Pearl is in a pair of my overalls I left behind, and Nicky is in a cute argyle sweater and jeans—going for a preppy look this term, I guess. She changes her style every few months, depending on who she’s friends with.

“How was—” Mom starts, but they’re already talking over each other.

“I’m not in any of the same classes as Angela,” Nicky says, dumping her bag and going to raid the fridge.

“I have the worst French teacher,” Pearl says. “Most of us can speak French better than she can, and she’s the teacher . Also, she has bad breath. I don’t even want to take French. ”

“You might need it,” Dad says. “Being bilingual is a requirement for a lot of government jobs.”

“I don’t want a government job.”

While Pearl plunks down so she fits in the frame with my parents, Nicky flits in and out of the background, making a snack.

Mom turns her attention to me. “Pearl has to decide whether to apply to university within the next couple of weeks. She doesn’t know what she wants to do.”

“It’s hard to pick a career path when you’re only seventeen,” I say sympathetically.

Pearl huffs. “I took an online quiz to figure it out, and the website crashed.”

I purse my lips. “Why don’t you take general studies and see what subjects you like best?”

“But every career sucks.”

I don’t blame her for saying so, but agreeing wouldn’t be helpful. “They’ve all got pros and cons.”

Mom and Dad nod.

An idea sparks—a way I can ask some questions without telling the whole truth. “Even a dream job has crappy parts, right?”

“Of course,” Mom says. “Nothing in life is perfect.”

Dad squints. “Why?”

“I’m learning about the different fields I can study within psychology.” I stretch out a leg and rock the hammock again. “Some fields are more… intense than others.”

Dad nods knowingly. “Forensic psychology?”

Pearl draws back, her gaze darting between our parents and the camera. “You want to work with serial killers?”

A decent metaphor for curses. I’ll roll with it. “Maybe. It’s important to do whatever it takes to help, right?”

Mom and Dad exchange a look .

“You’ve always been compassionate,” Mom says. “I think you’re meant to go down the path of altruism.”

I stop rocking the hammock. “So you believe it’s worth taking risks for the greater good.”

Dad chuckles and rubs a hand over his thinning hair. “Your mom and I both built our careers on doing just that, so you might be asking the wrong people.”

Or the right people. They get it. If they knew the truth about why I’m asking, they would probably agree that helping to prevent curses from getting into innocent hands—or dangerous hands—is important.

“I don’t think you should get into forensic psychology,” Pearl says matter-of-factly. “Working with criminals would affect you. You’re so in tune with other people’s energy that you’d pick up on all the darkness.”

My heart leaps. It’s exactly what I said to Natalie about being an empath. Far from dissuading me, her comment makes certainty trickle through my veins.

“True,” I say. “Thanks.”

Between this and my parents’ belief that I’m destined to help people, what more do I need? I’m meant to stay in CSAMM and use my ability—even if it’s dangerous.

Nicky comes over with a sandwich and peers down between Pearl and Mom, her brow pinched. “Where are you?”

“Um—” Before I can come up with an answer, activity stirs around me. People get up and walk toward one of the courtyard exits, their movements purposeful, like they’ve been called.

I sit up, rigid. Something’s going on.

“I have to go,” I say quickly. “I’m studying with… people.”

“Oh, are these your friends ?” Nicky makes air quotes. “Can we see them?”

“Bye! Love you all!” I end the call and shut the laptop, looking for some indication as to what’s happening .

Ahead, a woman in her thirties rushes to a group of people at a picnic table, her urgent words drifting toward me. “The Shadows are back.”