Clara
I stop by another mirror on the way and check my appearance again.
The choice of a floral print dress, with small blue flowers on a white background along with a fitted bodice and flared skirt, was made with comfort and weather in mind. But now I'm having second thoughts. Does it seem too casual? Not that this is a special occasion or anything, I just don't want the hours I spent looking for what to wear to seem irrelevant. I wonder if it goes ok with the braid.
The funeral will take place at Uncle's house the day after tomorrow.
When I asked to have the day off from the schedule to mourn the loss of Daniel, and seeing as she was busy with stuff, she allowed all of us the day off to do whatever we wanted.
These days, I feel like I'm lying to mom alot. And for some reason...it doesn't feel that bad. I do feel guilty, but as I try to do my best to please them, I'm reminded it doesn't matter. I just want abit of time for myself as a reward. It feels...exciting.
Just like last night.
As exhausted as I was and dying to sleep, I couldn't stop staring at the gift Alister gave me. I played that song all night as I lay on my bed. Imagining him hunched over a desk scattered with tools, making something thoughtful for me.
I would have hugged him. If he hadn't abruptly left with that awkward expression. Strangely, I didn't feel lonely like I thought I would.
The avenue is more crowded than usual, touched by that strange calm that follows a storm. The air smells clean, like wet bark and cold stone, and the wind carries just enough bite to remind me it's still spring.
I wait beside a clock tower at the center of the district as I look around for him.
Then I see him.
Alister, walking toward me with an unbothered stride, dressed in a black and white striped shirt layered under a black overcoat, and a maroon satchel at his side. Unlike me, I feel like everything suits him. I wonder if he had trouble picking it out. Then I chuckle to myself—no, he's not that kind of person. He probably grabbed whatever looked most like a threat and called it a day.
He catches my eye, raising a hand in a brief wave, and I run up to him.
But as I approach, my smile falters.
Two familiar figures turn a corner and start walking toward us.
Why are they here? Why now?
"Hey, Clara!" Zach calls out, grinning brightly. He's wearing a green floral button-down shirt with tan khakis and sunglasses—like he's about to hop on a cruise ship, not crash our meeting.
Alister seems annoyed but not surprised like I am.
Stephanie gives me a lazy salute. The sheathed fencing sword strapped across her back, with a unique hilt, was impossible to miss. Her other hand tucked into the pocket of her plum shorts. Is she not cold? Her black crop top, which reveals the black rose tattoo on her stomach, is one I've seen many times. I suppose some people dread being seen in the same outfit twice, but others don't care about any of that. Stephanie wears what she wants, when she wants.
"Alister?" I ask cautiously.
"They know." He replies flatly.
Zach and Stephanie rest their elbows on his shoulders like they rehearsed it, matching grins plastered on their faces. Alister immediately shoves them off with a grunt.
"Rejoice!" Stephanie announces, pulling her sunglasses up onto her head with flair. "For you are no longer alone in your agonizing quest, dear Clara. Reinforcements have arrived."
"But… how?" I ask, blinking in disbelief.
"Thanks to Steph's complete inability to mind her own business." Zach says brightly, clearly proud.
"Guilty." She says unapologetically. "We're here to help. You look super cute, by the way. I can see the effort you put into it." She throws a teasing smirk.
A hot flush creeps up my neck and floods my cheeks as if I've just been caught doing something shameful.
I quickly grab Alister's coat and pull him away from the group. "Excuse us for a second."
I'm angry.
At this whole situation.
At them for barging into something they don't fully understand.
At myself—for caring what Zach might be thinking, even now.
And at Alister. Especially Alister. For making it so easy for them to figure things out. For not covering better.
I drag him down the path until we stop beneath the shadow of the clock tower.
"The hell? How much do they know?" I whisper sharply, grabbing the lapel of his coat and tugging him down to eye level. It's weird how his hair is slicked back too perfectly, like he actually took time getting ready. I also catch the faint trace of cologne clinging to his coat.
He calmly brushes my fingers off. "Not enough to be a problem. Just that we're meeting to figure out how to decode the book."
"How'd they know about the book?" My voice nearly spikes, and I shoot a glance over his shoulder.
The two are—of course—entirely unserious, locked in an aggressive thumb war like children. Zach's already laughing. Stephanie's cheating.
"They found it in my bag and were careless with it. Almost crushed Finch." He says, looking visibly frustrated with himself. And who the heck is Finch? "So I just gave them bits of information and nothing more. Nothing that could lead to trouble." He says, glaring back at them.
"What if something happens? What if we need to fight again? They'll interfere."
He tilts his head slightly. "If they get in the way, we kill them."
I glare. My elbow jerks outward, catching him square in the ribs.
But it only makes him grin. "Look, maybe they could prove useful. If I told them to stay away, do you really think Steph won't start spying on us?"
He makes a fair point. That is something that wench would do. I try to calm down and find a silver lining in this situation. More heads are better than one, right?
"Plus, she came across those artifact hunters when she was a kid, so getting her to stay away from our mess would just make her more interested."
I groan and feel my shoulders slump. He's right. I hate that he's right.
"Okay, let's go!" Alister calls out, already moving ahead with impatience. His coat flares behind him as he walks towards the looming library.
I fall in behind the group, watching Zach and Stephanie walk ahead of me. "Why did you bring a sword? Planning on fighting some books?"
"I will if I want to." Stephanie shrugs. "Zach picked me up after practice."
"Why do you two even want to help?" I ask, genuinely curious—and a little suspicious.
Stephanie swings around to face me while walking backward. "Because I'm terminally bored." She flashes an evil grin. "And this seems like fun. Curses, spellbooks, mysterious incantations. What an exciting way to spend the afternoon." She says, like a kid being handed a knife and told not to run.
I roll my eyes. I knew it was something along those lines.
"But I am helping purely because I am a generous, kindhearted soul who thrives on adventure and mild danger." Zach chimes in dramatically, holding a hand over his chest like he's pledging allegiance.
I blink. "Mild?"
He's definitely in for a shock.
"I have low standards." He says with a grin.
I can't help but smile back.
"But, in all seriousness, I really hope you guys can go back to normal again. It must be so hard for both of you. I can't imagine having to wake up to see myself almost dying or visions distorting my view of reality." He says, staring at the ground.
I'm sure Alister didn't specify what he sees in his 'visions'.
I can feel my stomach twist at the sight of him. I can't help but wish he didn't know about any of this. When I recall the events of yesterday and all the things Alister and I did, and the tiny bit of pride I felt from doing all that, I now know that from other's perspective, it just seems wrong.
The ugly part of myself. I don't want him to see me that way. I want him to think positively of me like everyone else.
I glance up to see Alister climb the stone steps to the library. His shoulders are squared, but there's tension in the way he carries himself.
Two bronze lions flank the entrance, their features dulled by years of weather. Patches of green tarnish streak their sides like scars.
I run my fingers along one of their backs as I pass, the metal cold beneath my skin.
♡......💙......♡
I place the stack of books on the table. The bindings gave a soft creak under the weight. "I found more stuff about the history of witchcraft. Some on demonology and curses, too."
Alister nods, barely glancing up from his laptop, as the blue glow reflects off his glasses.
I slide into the seat beside him, flipping open one of the heavier volumes while ignoring the light snores of Stephanie as she sleeps atop an open book, one arm dangling off the side of the table.
So helpful.
Good thing the library's enormous enough for something like this to not be considered a disturbance. The ceiling towers above like a cathedral, beams arching elegantly across the space. Sunlight pours through the wide windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The three floors are connected by a winding staircase and smooth glass elevators. Quiet study nooks line the walls, half-filled with students and researchers too absorbed in their own world to notice ours.
"I've been thinking…" I trail off as something clicks in my mind. I close the book slowly, letting the idea settle before saying it aloud. "If that single gemstone from the book is what we have stuck to us and the dying girls in my dreams indicate previous users of it, the first dream I had, where it all started, might have a clue or something. Something I might have missed."
He pauses and looks at me, staring intently like I'm some kind of specimen. But the lack of surprise I expected tells me he's already thought of that before too. Just never said anything. "Can you recall every little detail from it?"
I nod slowly. "I can try. They're so vivid. It shouldn't be too hard."
I close my eyes and lean back slightly, drawing in a long, slow breath.
The library fades around me—the rustle of pages, the buzz of fluorescent lights, even Stephanie's snoring—all muffled under the weight of memory. I let the images return, piece by piece.
I wake up in a room. A smoke-filled room of a burning house. There were no pictures on the wall. No decorations. Just bare wooden walls scorched black at the corners.
I moved toward the window, stepping carefully over fallen beams and shattered glass. The fire hadn't reached this side of the room yet, but smoke curled up the walls like it was hungry. Outside, the moon hung full in the sky.
And on the ground—they were there.
A crowd of strange people stood in the field below, watching the house burn. Not helping. Not screaming. Just… watching.
Their faces were twisted in anger and brows furrowed. Eyes full of hatred.
And they were looking straight at me.
I remember the clothes they wore. The women wear long, flowing dresses with aprons tied around their waists, while the men are clad in tunics and stockings. Their clothing is simple, yet practical, giving off an air of rustic, rural life.
Men holding pitchforks, while the women clutch torches, their flames flickering ominously in the fading light.
What...era was this?
I gasped and jerked my eyes open, sucking in breath as if I was physically there the whole time.
"What is it?" Alister asks, in concern.
"Caps… long dresses, aprons." I say, turning to him. "The men wore tunics and stockings. Or breeches. It was old, rustic clothing." I frowned, shaking my head. "What era is that from again?"
"1600s." I hear Stephanie say as she seems to have woken up and is flipping through a book.
"I think...1690s specifically. Late 17th century." Alister adds.
My eyes widen as I begin to piece the picture together.
"Why?" Alister asks as he starts typing something on his laptop.
"In that time, the men's coats were longer and more fitted, with narrower sleeves, and the women's dresses had a more streamlined silhouette with fewer frills. That kind of plain style was common in the 1690s." I explain, thinking back to the fascinating history of fashion books I read long ago. "But you know what was most memorable in that era?"
"Salem witch trials!" We both say in unison as Alister turns the laptop screen towards me, showcasing a search on the trails.
Our lips curl upwards as we stare at each other, feeling a tiny bit triumphant.
"How does that help exactly? Knowing how far back it goes?" Stephanie remarks, sitting up straighter.
That means the gems have been in effect since way back then. The fire and the angry townfolk might suggest a witch being burned in the house. Why inside there and not on a stake is beyond me, though.
"It's information. Not a solution. Just confirms that these artifacts were created by a witch, and this is probably her spellbook. Nothing about how to stop them." I answer.
Stephanie hums thoughtfully and leans back in her chair. She reaches over and slides a thick book toward us. 'The Devil's Contract'.
"It's about people making deals with demons in exchange for power, knowledge, wealth—whatever." She says, waving her hand dismissively. "Wouldn't be too shocking if your witch did something like that. Could even explain how she made the book. Or got the power to create it."
I furrow my brow. "But what if she didn't need to? What if she already had power? Real power, inside her. The kind that doesn't require a bargain."
Stephanie grins, tapping the cover of the book like she's winning a debate. "Then she'd have to be insanely powerful. Like, terrifyingly. Enough to trap magic in objects for centuries. That book might as well be her journal." She leans forward, eyes gleaming with mischief. "And if she was that powerful, why would she let herself die? If I had that kind of power, I'd find a way out. And then? Oh, I'd totally come back and burn everyone who wronged me."
I blink at her. She's… making a disturbing amount of sense.
Alister lets out a quiet snort. "So what, you're suggesting we figure out which demon she made a deal with, then make our own deal to remove the curse? Offer it something in return?"
Stephanie's eyes sparkle with something dangerous. "Precisely."
Maybe it's the casual tone. Maybe it's the fact that she's smiling at him like they're partners in crime. But why do I get the feeling they are acquaintances? I've never seen them so much as interact on campus.
"Or," she goes on. "Since your curse might not be on the same level as the big book of doom, maybe a lower-tier demon would do the trick."
Alister shakes his head. "If you'd bothered to read past the first few chapters, you'd know those deals always go south. They twist the wording, and trap you in loopholes. The demon walks away with your soul, and you're left worse off than before."
"Unless," I say, rubbing my chin, thoughtfully. "we learn how to trick them instead."
Alister raises an eyebrow. "You think you can outsmart a creature that's spent eternity scamming mortals?"
I try not to laugh as I smirk at him. "So you're admitting you're not smart enough."
He rolls his eyes. "I'm admitting I'm not arrogant enough to think I am."
"Hey, so I have an idea." Zach calls as he strides over to our table, dropping two thick, dusty books. The titles read 'Curses & Hexes' and 'The Occult'
He plops into the seat across from us, already fishing through Alister's bag like he's done it a hundred times. "Do you think those artifact hunters know about this book?" He asks, holding up the spellbook and flipping through its pages.
Alister and I exchange a wary glance.
"No," I answer slowly. "I don't think so. If they did, they'd be tearing the world apart for it."
I had thought about it before. This wasn't just any dusty old book. An instruction manual for crafting magical artifacts is more valuable than anything those hunters currently possess. If they found out it was with us... it would end in blood instead of a negotiation.
Zach taps a finger on the paper. "What if—hear me out—they know this language?"
"I doubt that," Alister says, frowning.
"You never know unless you find out." Zach shrugs like he's talking about ordering pizza, not potentially dealing with murderers. "Why not lure one of them in, kidnap and make him talk?"
We all stare at him in silence.
Stephanie looks bewildered. Alister blinks slowly, as if giving the sentence time to make sense. I just stare, my brain short-circuiting.
It's not the idea that shocks us. It's who it's coming from. I never expected him to talk about kidnapping so casually.
"If he doesn't know anything, and he can't help us get rid of the curse... what then? We just let him walk?" I ask, knowing full well what the psycho in glasses beside me would do in that situation.
He looks up, flashes us a grin—but there's something wrong with it. A tightness in the corners. A coldness in the eyes that doesn't belong.
"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about it." He says lightly. "I know how to deal with disgusting insects."
A chill dances down my spine. I'm now curious about what he meant by mild danger.
Instantly, for some reason, I imagine him in his gorgeous greenhouse. Smiling warmly and humming a joyful tone as he buries a body next to several others. Might explain why that place looks like a tropical forest.
"That seems like a waste of effort." Stephanie mutters, yawning so hard it's contagious. I blink, suddenly aware of how heavy my limbs feel. The caffeine pills have worn off, leaving me foggy and half-aware.
Zach flips a few more pages, his eyes scanning fast. "You sure? Did it ever cross your minds that maybe there's an object out there that breaks curses?"
That brings me back to full alert, and I look at Alister. His brows are furrowed and fingers stop tapping the table. The gears are turning in his head too. He hadn't thought of that either.
It's possible.
Capture someone. Question him. Find out if such an artifact exists. Use my powers to infiltrate wherever it's hidden. Get in, get out.
But it would come at a cost. A big one.
It might mean attracting attention to ourselves. We'd be relying on someone trained to deceive us. If he misled us—or set us up—we could walk right into a trap. And even if we escaped, even if we won... they'd never stop hunting us.
"Perhaps..." Alister starts.
"Wait." Zach cuts in, jabbing a finger at a line of the strange, looping script in the book. "I've seen this before."
The words hang there for a beat.
Stephanie leans in, her earlier boredom forgotten. Alister immediately pivots the book toward him, and I scoot closer too, the haze of tiredness lifting with the slow curl of tension unfurling in my stomach.
"Where? Is that what you were looking for?" I ask.
"It nagged me ever since I saw the writing in this book," Zach says, squinting at the page. "Like I'd seen something like it somewhere before. I ignored it—it's just weird patterns, right? Stuff we might've come across in passing. But now it's coming back to me."
He pauses dramatically. We all wait, expecting him to continue.
"There's this woman." Zach says, like the words are tumbling over each other in his rush. "She goes by the name Madam Reeze. I only met her once, back when I was a kid. She was some fortune teller—or that's what I thought—but I swear she had real powers."
Alister lets out a small scoff, already pulling his coat on. "You were a kid, Zach. Of course you thought she had powers."
Please, Alister, we're both people who are cursed and have a power. I'm not sure you of all people should deny any existence of magic.
"No, seriously!" Zach insists, a little defensive now. "I got lost trying to find my parents at a party downtown. I wandered into this sketchy little alley and found her shop. She looked spooky and crypt-keeper ancient. She gave me a red thread and said it would lead me to my family. And it did. I followed it, and five minutes later, I was in front of the bakery where my parents were."
We all exchange skeptical looks.
We believe him. But we don't believe his memory or how he might remember things.
"Well," I say, slapping my hands on the table and pushing to my feet. "It can't hurt to check her out. The library hasn't helped. If this woman's still around, maybe she can make sense of all this."
Zach lights up, visibly proud that his plan is being taken seriously. Stephanie just shrugs and yawns, gathering her things. Alister mumbles something under his breath about us chasing ghost stories, but he's already packing up too.