Page 25

LUCAS

N obody tells you how hard it is to say goodbye to your home even when there’s nothing left for you there. It makes all the sense in the world that one would bemoan the end of joyful circumstances, but leaving Octavia Falls wasn’t like that. This town had beaten us to the bone, and any greatness it once exhibited had been stripped away. We should’ve been ready to run away as fast as possible, toward something better, because anywhere was better than here.

And yet… walking away was tragically difficult.

Fleeing town sounded quick and simple, but this wasn’t an abrupt evacuation with a threat looming on the horizon. People were mourning, and if anything kept us from moving forward, it was the grief of everything we’d lost. My friends and I had faced grief more times than we could count, and we knew now how to handle it, but there were other townspeople who couldn’t let go, and I didn’t blame them. I too wanted to cling to every last bit of home I could, because leaving behind everything I knew and braving the ordinary—yet strange—world beyond Octavia Falls was more frightening than anything we’d ever encountered here… even if there were memories here worth running from.

Thousands of people had evacuated the night before the priestesses arrived. After our magic vanished, there was no point in them returning. Remaining townsfolk found that they had nowhere to go. My friends and I agreed to stay a few more weeks to use what scarce resources we had left to help people find housing outside Octavia Falls. Professor Warren and Headmistress Verla had offered to stay and help as well, and Professor Wykoff had returned with Marcus from Paris. She’d vowed she wouldn’t leave town until we did. Dr. Mack was still running appointments at the clinic to help townspeople through their grief. We’d all gone in to see her a couple of times, and her therapy had been really helpful for all of us. Everyone else we knew had left.

We kept in touch with our contacts in Hok’evale . We got a few people placed into houses there, but they couldn’t take in everyone. We knew we couldn’t fix this anymore, but we still couldn’t give up the responsibility. We all shared the unspoken understanding that a captain goes down with their ship, and we’d been the captains who’d steered our people into the iceberg.

In a way, I supposed it was a distraction from the very pressing reality that we were going to have to leave soon ourselves.

No one could stay, that was for certain. So much of Octavia Falls had been destroyed in this war, and without its people, the entire infrastructure of the city fell apart. The cider mills and syrup farms had shut down all operations, and all imports and exports had completely halted. Our government was in complete shambles. Though we technically still held our seats on the Imperium Council, all other essential personnel had evacuated. Once the last of the food on the shelves were gone, the final people still holding on to this town would be forced to move on. Octavia Falls would become a ghost town, and our history would be forgotten.

My friends and I gave ourselves the following week to mourn. We’d held a memorial for the people we lost, but it felt strangely hollow. It was different from any grief we’d experienced before, because in the past, people’s deaths had pushed us forward and driven us to make change. This time, we couldn’t really be bothered to feel anything at all, because if we couldn’t save anyone anymore, what was the point?

I tried to focus on everything we still had with us instead of ruminating on what we’d lost. The coven was no more, but we still had our family. Marcus was home with us again, and Nadine and I spent every second we could cherishing precious snuggles with him. Once we found housing for the last of the townspeople, we were going to take our child far away from here and start over.

Nadine and I would go to Hok’evale . Our friends all had other plans. It was too painful to stay together after everything we’d gone through. It wasn’t the fresh start we’d wanted, but maybe there was hope in that anyway.

Hope was a heavy word these days, but we had to hold on to something , because we wouldn’t let my family fall apart again. We had each other, and that’s what was most important.

We had no way of knowing if Marcus’s curse was still active, or if somehow he’d maintained his connection to magic even though the rest of us lost it. As a demigod, he should be able to create power out of nothing, and he didn’t need a connection to Alora to do it. But without magic of our own, we could no longer feel his. Even if Nadine could harness remnants of magic as a Curse Breaker, demigod powers far outweighed her own and could easily overpower her ability to sense them. For all we knew, all witch magic was gone for good, and with it, Marcus’s curse and his demigod powers had vanished, too. He smiled and laughed and burped and cried just like any normal kid. If there was still any remains of magic within him, there were no signs of it.

Nadine and I tried to maintain some semblance of normality, because despite everything that happened, life was still moving forward. It didn’t feel like it should, and that was the hardest part of all of this. We decided to cook a nice meal together as one of our final goodbyes to our home.

Nadine fed Marcus a bottle while I cleared off and set the table. The Curse Breaker Wand sat on top of a stack of paperwork we’d brought home from the council offices weeks ago. It struck me how obsolete these things were now. The Imperium paperwork that seemed so pressing not that long ago didn’t need to be filed anymore, and without magic flowing through it, the Curse Breaker Wand was useless. We’d fought so hard for these two things, and now, they were merely unnecessary clutter. What really mattered was this time with my family.

Slowly, Marcus’s eyes grew heavy, and he started drifting off. Nadine secured him in his bouncer when he finished eating, then went over to the sink to wash her hands. The water was still running, and we were still getting electricity at the estate, but our utilities would eventually get shut off, along with the rest of the town’s.

Something outside must’ve caught her attention, because she leaned forward and peered out the window.

“Everything all right?” I asked as I dished up our plates with mashed potatoes.

“Someone just pulled around the side of the house,” Nadine said warily.

“That’s weird. I don’t know why they wouldn’t park out front.”

The estate had a long driveway that curved around the side of the house toward the garage, but we never used it so we wouldn’t park each other in. I looked out the window, and my stomach dropped. I recognized the vehicle, but it wasn’t one of our friends like I assumed. I’d gotten so used to our home being protected from unwelcome guests that I hadn’t thought about how our wards had fallen.

My teeth gritted. “That’s my mom’s car.”

“Do you want me to send her away?” Nadine asked. “I’ll rip into her if I have to.”

“No. I don’t want to start a fight,” I said gently.

“What are you going to do?”

I paused for a beat, because I knew what I wanted to do, which was to make her go away. But I also didn’t think that would solve anything. I had to assume my mother had come to say goodbye, which meant this was my last chance to resolve the animosity between us before I lost my chance for good. I didn’t know where Mom would go after this, but I truly wasn’t sure I’d ever see her again. I didn’t want to do this right now, but if I desired to heal, seeing her one last time was necessary.

My mother had already gotten out of the car and was heading toward the side door just outside our suite.

I turned back to Nadine. “If you’re okay with it, I’d like to invite her inside for dinner. It’ll be good to say goodbye.”

Nadine nodded. “If that’s what you really want, then she can eat with us.”

“I think it’s what needs to be done,” I said, more to convince myself than my wife.

Nadine reached into the cupboard to pull out another plate, while I went down the hall to greet my mother.

“Lucas!” she said brightly when I opened the door. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by.”

She damn well knew I cared, but it wasn’t going to stop her. I really didn’t want to fight with her, though. I caught myself in the middle of the thought and resolved to approach my mother with kindness.

“It’s fine, Mom.” I opened the door a bit wider. “Nadine and I were just sitting down for dinner. Would you like to join us?”

Mom smiled, which was a rare occurrence. “Of course we’ll join you.”

Mom was already entering the house and taking her shoes off at the entrance, making herself perfectly at home, when I stopped in my tracks.

“We?” I asked.

She waved her hand like it was nothing. “Your father’s just getting something out of the car.”

Heat flashed through my whole body, but I did my best to keep my cool. “I told you he couldn’t be around us anymore.”

“He wanted to come. What would you rather I do? Tell him no?”

She could’ve, but then Dad wouldn’t have let her come, and if he had, she probably would’ve shown up with a bruise.

As angry as I was at my mother for what happened last time, realizing this made me really sad, because it occurred to me that perhaps I’d been too harsh on her, and she really didn’t have a choice when it came to my father.

I still had that choice, though, and maybe if I did things right this time, things would be different. If Ryan could choose to do better, then anyone could, including Jay Taylor. He just needed a nudge in the right direction.

Nadine stepped into the hall, though she didn’t bother with fake pleasantries. Nadine hated inauthenticity, and she thought we’d all get along better if we just told the truth. She wasn’t going to be mean , though. She’d host my parents for dinner, but she wouldn’t bother putting on a mask to make them feel more comfortable.

Nadine simply nodded at my mother. “Can I take your coat, Margo?”

“That’s so kind of you,” my mom practically cooed. It made me uncomfortable, to be honest. Nadine wasn’t going to be fake, but my mom had no problem with it. “Lucas, get the door for your father.”

I must’ve looked like a statue, because it felt as if my blood had turned to ice. Nadine’s eyes immediately went wide, but my mom missed it, because she was already headed into the suite.

“I didn’t know he was here,” I whispered.

“He better behave himself,” Nadine hissed, before turning to hang my mom’s coat in the closet.

I opened the door to find my dad carrying a huge box that blocked out his face. The box was wrapped in colorful paper and had a big red bow on top.

“Uh… what’s this, Dad?” I asked.

He peered around the edge of the box. “Can’t you recognize a birthday present when you see one, son?”

He wasn’t being malicious, though it rubbed me the wrong way. He was trying to make a joke that clearly fell flat. No one had ever called my dad funny, that was for certain.

“Yeah, um… who’s it for?” I asked.

Dad struggled to get through the doorway with the big box. “You, of course. You’re turning twenty-two soon.”

I was actually turning twenty-three, but I didn’t bother correcting him. “My birthday isn’t for another few weeks.”

Dad handed me the present. “I had to gift it a few weeks early this year. That way, you can’t accuse me of forgetting your birthday again.”

Like he had literally every other year of my life. I wasn’t sure what made this birthday so special, until I realized maybe this was his way of saying he was sorry. My parents must be leaving town very soon, and they wouldn’t be seeing me for my birthday.

“Thanks, Dad,” I said genuinely.

He chuckled lightly. “Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t even opened it!”

“It’s the thought that counts. It means a lot.”

Dad turned toward the suite. “Don’t get sappy on me now. You know I hate it when people cry.”

His response irritated me, but I could see that he was trying , and that mattered for something.

I led my dad into the suite, where Nadine had already set out another plate for him. I noticed she’d moved Marcus’s bouncer very close to her seat, on the complete opposite end of the table from my father’s empty plate.

Isa took one look at my father, and her hair stood on end. She scooped Rishi up by the scruff—which was hilarious to see because the kitten was pretty big now—and ran off into the bedroom. Oliver followed.

Dad plopped down in his chair and started piling his plate full. “So, how’s everyone been? We hardly hear from you anymore.”

“We’ve been busy.” I internally cringed that my immediate response was to make up an excuse to keep Dad from going off the rails. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth, either. I decided that if I really wanted to make a change here, I had to be fully open with them. “To be honest, it’s been rough. We were making a lot of progress, in the coven and in our personal lives. But things didn’t turn out the way we expected, and now, we’re all just trying to figure out where to go next.”

Dad shoved a pile of food in his mouth. “It’s hard being the man in charge.”

I thought I detected sympathy. Even Nadine looked surprised.

“I know what it’s like to supervise people,” Dad rattled on. “I took over for my supervisor for a few weeks at work when he was on sick leave. I tell you, I’ve never seen a batch of kids as dumb as the ones working the mills these days. Can’t get them to listen to a word you say.”

“Honey, please,” Mom whispered under her breath.

I kept my composure. “It’s been hard for everyone, for sure. A lot of students had to find jobs while the school was closed last year and their parents were out of work. The mills took whoever was willing to work for the lowest pay and had to rush their training. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

“Of course it’s tough for these kids,” Dad said. “I’m not saying it isn’t. These manual jobs aren’t for the weak. These kids don’t get to sit in a cushy office, that’s for sure.”

Nadine narrowed her eyes at him, and I could tell if I didn’t keep this conversation going in the right direction, my wife wouldn’t hesitate to put my father in his place.

“I’ve been going to therapy,” I blurted. If my dad wanted to know what was going on in my life, then perhaps I could convince him to go to therapy, too.

Dad chuckled. “What, like a shrink? What would you need one of those for?”

My palms became clammy, and I hid them under the table. “I have a couple diagnoses that I need a therapist for, and it’s been really, really helpful.”

“You didn’t tell us you were sick,” Mom said gently.

Dad narrowed his eyes skeptically. “Is a shrink really qualified to diagnose you? It’s not like a therapist is a real doctor.”

“Actually, most psychiatrists hold an M.D. My therapist is a doctor specializing in mental health,” I emphasized. “She’s more than qualified to diagnose me.”

“What kind of problems does she think you have?” Dad asked.

I didn’t like that he was asking like that, but I also thought that if I shared it with him, maybe he’d see that he had symptoms of his own to address. Life would be a lot better for everyone if my dad sought a diagnosis and got the tools to help him out.

“PTSD, for one,” I started.

Dad cut me off with a laugh, as if the diagnosis was ludicrous. “Isn’t that what you get in the military? Son, you haven’t been to war.”

Nadine and I exchanged a wary glance. She cocked an eyebrow at me, as if to ask, Are you going to tell him, or am I?

“Actually, Dad, I have,” I told him. “What do you think the entire Miriamic Conflict has been?”

Dad wiped his napkin over his face. “Well, you’ve put an end to that, haven’t you?”

Mom noticeably nudged him under the table. To be honest, I was shocked it took him this long to bring it up, but it was clear Mom convinced him beforehand not to talk about it.

Before Dad could go on, I said, “It’s not something that’s going to be fixed overnight. But my therapist has been helping—a lot, actually. She’s been helping us all through this difficult time. She’s put me on a good treatment plan, and I know it’s going to be difficult with everything that happened and adjusting to this new reality without magic, but I’m going to put in the work and it’ll be worth it. I think everyone should see a therapist at least once in their lives. You may find that it will give you a better outlook on your future.”

“The future’s already here, my son,” Dad stated proudly, like he hadn’t heard anything I said. “Open your present, and you’ll see what I mean.”

Dad liked to change the subject anytime things got uncomfortable, so his comment wasn’t exactly unusual. If opening his present made him happy, then I could do that, and I’d find a way to circle back to this therapy conversation later.

I dragged the box across the floor until it was next to my chair, then ripped off the wrapping paper. I flipped the top of the box open and was entirely perplexed by what I found inside. My birthday present was merely a couple of plastic buckets, some thick tubing, and a big metal pot. It looked like he’d thrown together a bunch of random stuff he’d found in his storage shed last-minute.

“Thanks,” I forced out. “I’m sure we’ll find a use for all of this.”

“Don’t you realize what it is?” Dad sounded quite pleased with himself. “It’s the new era of distillery! Without magic, our cider mills have gone belly-up, but it doesn’t have to be the end of commerce for the coven with my idea! We can sell alcohol anywhere, whether it’s infused with magic or not. And you can be part of the revolution, son. Put these babies in every home in Octavia Falls, and we can work together to rebuild our economy.”

I furrowed my brow. He couldn’t be serious. “It’s an at-home distillery kit? Dad, these things have been around forever.”

“And without magic, we’ll be forced to go back to the basics,” Dad insisted. “I’ve already ordered enough to get the ball rolling. I just need a salesman to market these babies. You’re a priest, which means you could order every house in the coven to buy one and participate in building our economy back up from the ground. It’s the least you can do after everything you’ve done.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nadine demanded, finally cracking. We’d barely been entertaining my parents for five minutes, and already, neither of us could take it anymore.

“Lucas claims he’s done so much as a priest,” Dad said. “If that’s true, the failure falls on his shoulders. He couldn’t end the Waning, despite his promises to restore our magic once he got rid of the priestesses. Someone has to come in and clean up his mess and get the coven back on their feet. I’m used to cleaning up after him, so it’s only natural that the burden would fall on me. If our magic’s gone for good, then the least we can pursue is money.”

I sighed heavily and pressed my fingers to the corners of my eyes. I always knew my dad liked to hear the sound of his own voice, but I didn’t realize until now that my father didn’t actually listen to what he was saying. He had no idea he was being mean. How could he, if he really thought I’d help him after this?

“Is that all you came here for?” I asked. There was no emotion in my tone, because to be honest, I didn’t care anymore. “You want to take advantage of our coven’s darkest moment so that you can make a profit? You think because I’m a priest I can make you rich ?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth,” Dad insisted. “I never said that. You did.”

Though his accusation seemed benign, it was anything but harmless. With his words came every allegation that came before it. I felt that familiar hole in my stomach open up, and I seemed to shrink to three feet tall. I was a kid again, being yelled at by my father about everything I’d ever done wrong.

All I could do was shake my head incredulously. Any hope that I ever had for my father died in that moment. As I sat there listening to him, it became very clear to me that I never wanted to do this again. It wasn’t even that—I couldn’t do this, because I wasn’t the same guy who’d sat through this bullshit before.

Professor Warren had been right. This thing with my parents never changed because they couldn’t change, but I realized then that neither had I. This time was different, because I was different.

I could never explain to anyone why I let my father into my house after all that happened, because they wouldn’t understand. When you’re the child of a narcissist, you’re taught from day one to never trust reality.

As I stared back at my father now, though, I saw him for who he truly was. I’d seen glimpses of it before. I’d always known he wasn’t a good person, but I never truly understood how bad it was, because he’d conditioned me since birth to believe that everything I felt about him was wrong—that nothing bad ever happened, that I was making it up, and it was all in my head. It came with such an immense feeling of relief to acknowledge that everything I knew to be true about him wasn’t just some fantasy I’d fabricated.

I thought I could show my father kindness and he’d recognize the error of his ways, but he wasn’t the same as Ryan. I didn’t have him under my scythe blade, giving him a second chance at life. And even if I did, it was abundantly clear that he wouldn’t take it. He’d proven that months ago when the hospital tried to send him to a therapist and he refused.

I used to think my dad was a broken person who just needed to be shown there was a better way, but now, I saw that he wasn’t broken at all. He made complete sense.

My father had been wounded, but instead of letting people help him, he kept on tearing those wounds back open, because somewhere deep inside of him he didn’t know who he was without the pain. He had to lash out at everyone around him to make them feel as pitiful as he did, just so he felt a little less alone in his agony. I’d given him chances time and time again, but each time he showed me exactly who he was. It was time I started believing him.

I thought of the vision I’d had in Dr. Mack’s office and the younger teenage version of myself I’d seen and embraced. Somewhere deep in my subconscious was an even younger version of myself, a child who appeared each time I was in my father’s presence. I saw that little kid now, screaming to be heard, begging me to protect him in ways I couldn’t when I was his age.

I thought of the scene from the vision where the present version of myself just stood there and took my father’s harsh words. I didn’t understand it then, but I understood now that there was a part of me still allowing this to happen. I’d stood up to my father before, but each time it came with conflict I didn’t want to bear, so I backed down to keep the peace.

I’d embraced my younger self in the vision, along with my anxiety and depression, but doing so once wasn’t enough. This work was on-going, and to embrace it fully, I had to put it into practice—not just inside myself, but in my physical reality.

As my father ranted on, I took a beat to acknowledge that pit in my stomach, thank it for showing me what wasn’t working here, and let the moment pass. Then I conjured up an image of that small child within me calling out for help.