Page 115 of Bound By Fury

Ms. Lois stared down Lucille until she sat back in her seat. But Lucy never did stop crying. Ms. Lois met us one by one, eye to eye.

“You can join us,” she said, “or you can betray us. But when the Water ascends, war will come for us all.”

Part of me still don’t want to believe. But I can taste it. The weight of the truth. Like dirt and embers and the sting of salt on an open wound, the burning in my lungs when I accidentally breathe in a mouthful of lake water.

I know what we must do. But I just don’t understand why our power always has to come at a cost.

Why do they get to take and take and take, when all we can do is give?

When I told Mama, she curled into a ball on the floor.

I can’t seem to shake the guilt.

There’s something I ain’t tell the others.

I don’t feel right lying, but none of this is right no way.

Now I can’t sleep, and the sun is already rising on a brand-new day.

—Nora

THIRTY-SIX

1607 EVERLANE DRIVE IS ON the east side of Earnest, the winding roads slick beneath the bike I rented from the student center. It slips every now and then as I ride through the Village, past brick sidewalks, antique stores, cafés, and historic homes turned into Airbnbs.

It’s Saturday, and I told everyone I’m not feeling well. I made sure to emphasize how tired I was to Kate before heading upstairs, my head hung low with exhaustion.

It wasn’t totally a lie. I’m not sure I remember the last time I felt rested. Maybe at the beginning of summer, or the beginning of last summer. Before everything changed and slowly got worse until I could barely get out of bed in the morning.

I texted Daisy and Sam and told them I’ll meet them for dinner if I’m feeling up to it. I put my phone on Do Not Disturb, and then I left, hoodie pulled tight over my head. In wide-legged jeans instead of my uniform.

I turn the bike onto a gravel road leading through a copse of autumn trees to reveal a small, yellow ranch-style house. Beautiful white and pink mums bloom under the large picture window that glares in the light next to a teal door. I haven’t been to Maureen’s house in years, but there’s still a lingering comfort as I remember long days here as a little girl, kitchen table gossip and pockets full of pilfered strands of multicolor yarn for cat’s cradle.

As I pull up to the top of the driveway, I square my shoulders. What if I’ve gotten this all wrong? What if the Ouija board meant an entirely different Maureen? What if it meant nothing at all? Grabbing the heavy cat-shaped knocker, I slam it down in three quick raps. As I wait, I have half a mind to turn around and flee.

Off campus, the whispers are dull. In their place I swear I can hear my mother saying I’m out of my mind. That I’m reckless. That magic isn’t real and Maureen is a nutcase, too. That we’re going to end up just like Dad. Lost to whatever delusion carried him away from us.

A small dog yaps from behind the door, and Maureen scolds it before swinging it wide open and greeting me through the screen.

One look at her hair piled atop her head, the ash streaked through in thick gray strands, her soft, light-brown face pulled into a wide, surprised smile, and tears are already rolling down my cheeks.

“Harper!” She pushes open the screen and wraps her arms around me.

“Hello, Ms. Vale,” I mumble from my place trapped against her bosom.

She clicks her tongue as she releases me. “Absolutely not, miss lady! You know you call me Maureen. None of that formal nonsense!” She pulls back, eyeing me suspiciously. “I really thought you would’ve come to see me by now.”

Shame thickens in my throat at the pain in her eyes.

She’s right, I should have come here sooner. Power or no power.

She gestures to the open door.

“Well, don’t just stand there catching flies with your mouth, girly. Close those jaws and come in, we have lots to discuss.”

I take a hesitant step over the threshold, and she leads me into the parlor. Her home smells of earthy incense like a garden in the middle of summer. I take in the pink shag carpeting. The yellow couches and the gallery wall of mismatched art and thrifted frames.

“Sit down. Get comfortable. What can I get you? Tea? Water?”