Page 100 of The Magic We Made

“Oh, Hecate,” Emma breathes, sinking to her knees. “I’m Emma. If you only knew how long I’ve waited for this moment. I never thought it would really come. I’ve believed in you for so long without thinking I’d ever meet you someday, but I never gave up hope.”

Distracted by this worshipful greeting—the kind she’s probably missed since the height of her popularity—Hecate begins drifting away from Haley and toward Emma. Seeing this, a still-imprisoned Haley sobs with relief.

But Emma doesn’t seem the least bit intimidated. In fact, when the apparition is hovering just above her, the girl lifts her head to cry, “You’re so beautiful!”

“Emma,” the apparition says, but this time in an entirely different voice. It’s tender and warm and affectionate, the voice a mother would use when speaking to her favorite child.“Emma.”

Hearing her name spoken from the lips of Hecate, Emma breaks down weeping. “Oh, Hecate! We’ve made so many mistakes and done so much wrong in your name. I’m so sorry. I’ll do anything to make myself worthy of you. I only hope you’ll forgive me.”

That’s when I see the hand—brown, slim, with nails as long and as sharp and black as a tiger’s claws—come out from beneath the veil and settle lightly on the top of Emma’s bent head.

“You are forgiven,” whispers the goddess, in the softest, most comforting voice imaginable. “Blessss you, my child.”

Then Hecate turns her head to look at me, up on Satan’s Seat, and all of the other girls—even Haley—still cowering in place.

“Forgiven.” She repeats the word in that same gentle voice. “You are all forgiven.”

Her mouth stretches wide beneath the glossy black material of her veil. It takes me a second or two to realize Hecate is smiling.

And then there’s a flash of light so bright that I have to throw a hand before my eyes to shield them from the glare, followed by a crack of thunder so loud that the ground shakes beneath us.

When I lower my hand, I can’t see anything. It takes me a second to realize it’s not because the flash of light blinded me. It’s because all the fires are out. Every flame has been doused as if by some unseen rain. It’s completely dark at Satan’s Seat....

Except for the light from the moon, which suddenly breaks out from behind the clouds. As my vision adjusts to its blue-white glow, I can see Hecate is gone. So is the fissure she came from, as well as the bones that had been holding Haley prisoner. She’s sitting up, looking as astonished as I feel....

But maybe not as relieved, especially when, in the next few seconds, I hear a familiar and very welcome sound: the roar of a helicopter directly overhead. It’s accompanied by the sweep of a search light.

“This is the West Harbor Police,” a voice from the helicopter announces authoritatively. Jackie’s voice. “Stay where you are. Help is on the way.”

Dozens of smaller beams of light appear in the woods around us. Flashlights.

“Frankie?” I hear Troy call. “Frankie, are you there?”

I sag with relief. He must have gotten permission to use the new swift water rescue boats after all. And I didn’t even know the West Harbor Police Departmenthada helicopter.

“We’re here,” I call. My voice sounds weak and ragged. I raise it and call again. “Troy, we’re here!”

“Frankie?” Troy sounds close. “Stay where you are; we’re coming!”

But before I can scramble down from Satan’s Seat to greet him, strong hands seize me. I spin around only to find Ash by my side. He takes me into his arms.

“It’s over,” he murmurs into my hair, still damp from my swim. “They found us. And you found me.” His arms tighten around me. “You found me!”

I put my arms around his neck and bury my head in hischest. He’s holding me so close, I wonder if he’ll ever let me go. I hope not.

“I think you’re the one who found me,” I start to say.

But then he lowers his lips to mine, and I realize it doesn’t matter. We found one another... and I’m pretty sure neither of us is ever letting the other go.

Ash

I can’t believe this.

I keep telling the doctors I’m all right, but they’ve got me hooked up to an IV anyway.

If I really were a demigod, I’d pull out the needle, grab my clothes, and bug out of here. That’s what superheroes always do on TV when they end up in the hospital, even if they’ve been hit by a bullet.Especiallyif they’ve been hit by a bullet.

But I’m not a demigod. I’m not even all that much of a hero. I haven’t been hit by a bullet. I’m only in the ER. No one has suggested admitting me, like they did Emma and the other girls... but only after first arresting them for assault, destruction of property, trespassing, theft, and a dozen other charges.