The smell of ozone filled the air, and static electricity sizzled all around us. Wisps of blue electric fire jumped from person to person. There was a moment of total silence as Maisie rose up into the air. She levitated toward the ceiling, the short silence broken as stones began to fall from nowhere, pounding on the roof and crashing through the windows like cement raindrops.
Overhead, the pipes burst, sending spurts of water everywhere, and the very foundation of our century-and-a-half-old home, the seat of my family, began to rumble and shake. The room twisted on its foundation and its tortured beams were ripped screaming from their plaster skin.
Maisie clasped her palms together and a roar of fire shot from her to Oliver. The pillowcase in his hand burst into flames, and he dropped it, yelping as his fingers blistered. Maisie held the final tile, the white one she had drawn, up into the air, and it crumbled into a fine dust.
And then it was over. The stones stopped. The house was still and whole. There was no water falling from overhead, and Maisie stood quietly before us. I saw Oliver peer at his hand, which was completely fine, no burns. It was if nothing had ever happened. I realized that in our reality nothing had happened. Maisie had simply opened a window into what could happen, so that we could all peer in, and then she’d shut it off like flipping a switch. The only true victim of the episode was the case of lots, which remained a pile of ashes near Oliver’s feet.
“Does anyone have any questions?” Maisie asked, her eyes glowing in triumph, her body still hovering a few inches from the ground. She was electric. A numinous fire. She was not my sister. She was a fearful angel. I turned and forced my way to the front door. I turned the knob, but the door wouldn’t budge. It seemed to be jammed in its frame or frozen by a difference in pressure on the other side. I shook it hard a few times, but it stayed wedged in place. Then a wild strength welled up in me, and I flung the door open wide. As the warm night air reached in to touch my face, I ran.
FIFTEEN
I ran for blocks, paying no attention to traffic or crosswalks, and when exhaustion overcame adrenaline, I walked. My subconscious mind was in charge, leading me south, and my conscious mind only clued in to my destination as I drew near Sackville, and the house that Peter had been renting since moving out of his parents’ place a couple of years ago. When I found myself standing before it, I realized that something had changed inside of me. I felt like a different woman. I went up the steps of the small, wooden-frame house and knocked on the door.
Peter opened the door wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. At first he just blinked at me, but then his mouth fell open. “What the hell?” he asked, reaching out to pull me in from the night. “Are you all right?”
I stumbled through the door and into his arms. I understood his surprise when I caught sight of my reflection in a wall mirror. My hair was standing on end, still electrified by Maisie’s power. My skin was as pale as death and giving off a faint blue glow. “Don’t tell Maisie I’m here,” I said, my voice sounding somehow wrong to my own ears. “Don’t tell any of them.”
“I won’t tell anyone anything,” he said. Putting a hand on each of my forearms, he held me back to look at me. His nose flared as if he could smell Maisie’s magic on me.
“Come on,” he said, guiding me gently to the couch. “Tell me what happened. Talk to me.”
“I don’t want to talk,” I said, and then I kissed him. I kissed him again. He pulled me tighter to him, and I breathed in his clean scent. I pressed my face against his chest, and kissed him there too. My tongue darted out and tapped his nipple. “I need you,” I marveled at the sudden urgency of my words. “I love you,” I said, and the words were true. At that moment what I felt for Peter was vivid and intense, and my feelings for Jackson seemed like something left over from a nearly forgotten dream. I wrapped my arms around his neck and went up on my toes. I coaxed his tongue into my mouth, and felt his growing stiffness press into me.
“Whoa, Mercy,” he said, forcing himself to gain control. “I love you too. God knows I do,” he said, his mismatched eyes fixing on mine. “I want this. I want it more than you could know. But something’s wrong. I can tell. If we do this now, you’ll regret it tomorrow.”
Looking into his eyes, I had one of those rare moments of clarity. “You’re right. There is something wrong. There are more things wrong than you can even begin to imagine,” I said. “But this. Us. There will never be anything more right in my life.” I kissed him hard and took him in my hand. He shuddered, and his eyes asked me the question his lips wouldn’t form. I nodded, and he swept me up into his arms, carrying me into his bedroom, to his bed. He laid me down gently and carefully lowered himself on top of me.
He propped his torso up on his arms and looked down at me hungrily. “This means something to me, Mercy. This means we belong to each other. I don’t want to do this if you have even the slightest doubt,” he said.
I looked up into his beautiful face. “No doubts,” I said.
He leaned in and kissed me deeply. “There’s never been anyone but you,” he whispered into my ear. “I’ve never,” he confessed quietly. “I’ve waited…” he said. “I hoped you…” I reached up and pulled his mouth from my ear to my lips.
Later, as Peter slept, I rested next to him, wrapped in his embrace. I closed my eyes and experienced a moment of the purest peace I had ever known. But as I started to drift off, I was pulled back from my dreams by the sound of Jilo’s dark cackle dancing in the air all around me. Then I knew that it was Jilo’s magic that had drawn me here.
Despite Peter’s nearness, I lay there silent and alone as my heart turned into stone and fell into the pit of my stomach.
SIXTEEN
“You gonna be okay?” Peter asked as we pulled up in front of my house. “I can take you back to my place if you aren’t ready to face them. You can hang out, relax. I’ll come back here with you after work.” His face was glowing with happiness in spite of the concern he felt for me.
I considered his proposal. “No. I think it would be better for me to get this over with. No sense in avoiding the inevitable.” I needed to fix whatever was wrong between Maisie and me. Then I needed to consider the ramifications of the spell Jilo had settled on me.
“I love you,” he said, kissing my lips, my forehead, my eyelids. “I don’t want to leave you, but I have to get to work.”
“I love you too,” I said. It was true, even if the passionate side of that love had been magically induced. Perhaps my feelings for Peter ran deeper that I had ever known. Maybe we would have eventually come to this without the spell? He kissed me again, and I felt my body respond. With a supreme effort of will, I reached over for the door handle and hopped out of his truck. “I’ll see you tonight?”
“Ain’t nothing or nobody gonna stop me.” He smiled. I shut the door, and he started to drive off. He stopped again a few feet down the road and put his truck in park. He jumped out of the cab and ran back to me, yanking me into his arms and spinning me in the air as he kissed me long and hard. “I love you, Mercy Taylor. I do,” he said before returning to his truck and driving away. I watched until he was out of sight, and then I braced myself.