The Reckoning

Sixteen

ABOUT FIFTY FEET INTO the forest, Simon stopped dead and swore.

“What?” I said.

He waved at the woods. “I should have checked with you. Is it okay? Being out here?”

I assured him it was fine.

“Derek warned me the woods made you nervous, that you were worried about raising dead animals.” He glanced at me. “And you weren’t even thinking about that until I brought it up, were you?” He cursed again, more imaginatively now.

“It’s okay,” I said. “As long as I don’t summon or fall asleep, I’ll be fine.”

“And if you do fall asleep, I need some serious work on my conversation skills.”

We walked a little farther.

“Speaking of conversation, how, umm…” He made a face. “Sorry, I’m a bit nervous.”

“Did you have a lesson with Andrew today?”

A dramatic whoosh of relief. “Thank you. Yes, I did. Boring, boring, boring. No sudden surge of power for me. I’m just a regular-” He paused. “Okay, that was incredibly insensitive. Did I mention I’m nervous? I should be happy to have normal powers. And I am.”

“But still, it must be annoying, seeing Tori casting new spells right away when you’ve been training for years.”

“Yeah. It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t Tori.”

“So what spells can you do?”

“Nothing useful. You need to master the basics first. I get that, but right now, all I care about are spells that will help us, and perfecting my fog spell isn’t going to do that.”

“That knock-back one is good.”

He shrugged.

“Maybe Andrew can teach you the binding spell Tori casts.”

He shook his head. “It’s witch magic.”

“That’s different?”

“Do you want the quick answer or a lesson on the spell-caster races?”

“Option two please.”

He smiled, hand tightening around mine. “There are two major spell-casting races. Sorcerers are male and have sons, all of them sorcerers. Witches are female-same deal, but with daughters. Sorcerer magic uses hand gestures along with incantations, mostly in Greek, Latin, and Hebrew. And, no, I don’t speak Greek, Latin, or Hebrew-I can just recite the spells. Knowing the languages would help, but memorizing spells is tough enough right now. Sorcerer magic is offensive-used to attack. Witches use the same languages for incantations, but they get to skip the hand gestures. Their magic is defensive.”

“Used to stop an attack.”

“Or escape one, which would be useful these days.”

“You can’t learn witch magic?”

“We can, with a whole lotta effort, because it’s not our natural kind. Right now, I need to stick to my own, though I’d like to learn a few witch spells someday. Just not from Tori.”

When we reached the service station, Simon bought the ice cream, then we went back out to a log and sat down.

“I would have been fine with a single scoop,” I said.

“Too bad.”

“But-”

“I’ve been diabetic as long as I can remember, Chloe. I’ve never had double scoop ice creams so I don’t miss them. If it bothered me, I’d never eat with Derek, would I? And since I’ll be done first, I can give you a spell demonstration as snack-time entertainment.”

He did that, goofing around and making me laugh. Then we walked back, holding hands and talking some more. It was getting dark. When we could see the lights of the house through the trees, he stopped and tugged me in front of him. My heart hammered in what I told myself was anticipation, but felt more like terror.

“Was it okay?” he asked.

I smiled. “Better than okay.”

“So I won my pass to date two?”

“You did.”

“Good.”

His face lowered toward mine and I knew what was coming. I knew it. But when his lips touched mine, I still jumped.

“S-sorry, I-I-”

“Skittish as a cat,” he murmured. His hand slid to the back of my neck and he tilted my face up. “If I’m moving too fast-”

“N-no.”

“Good.”

This time, I didn’t jump. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t gasp. I didn’t do anything. Simon kissed me and I just stood there, like someone had cut the cord between my brain and my muscles.

Finally, the connection caught and I did kiss him, but awkwardly, some part of me still holding back, my gut twisting, like I was doing something wrong, making a huge mistake, and-

Simon stopped. For a moment, he hovered there, face above mine, until I had to look away.

“Wrong guy, huh?” he said, his voice so soft I barely caught it.

“Wh-what?”

He eased back, and his eyes went blank, unreadable.

“There’s someone else,” he said. Not a question. A statement.

“S-someone…? A boyfriend, you mean? From before? No. Never. I wouldn’t-”

“Go out with me if there was. I know.” He took another step back, the heat of his body fading, the chill of night air moving in. “I don’t mean a guy from before, Chloe. I mean one from now.”

I stared at him. Now? Who else…? There was only one other guy-

“D-Derek? Y-you think-”

I couldn’t finish. I wanted to laugh. You think I like Derek? Are you kidding? But the laugh wouldn’t come, just this thundering in my ears, breath catching like I’d been smacked in the chest.

“Derek and I aren’t-”

“No, not yet. I know.”

“I-I don’t-”

Just say it. Please let me say it. “I don’t like Derek.”

But I didn’t. Couldn’t.

Simon jammed his hands into his pockets and we stood there in that awful silence until I managed to say, “It isn’t like that.”

“It wasn’t. Not at first.” He stared out at the woods. “It started to change after the crawl space. You guys hanging out together, the…vibe changing. I told myself I was just imagining it. When you and Tori escaped from the lab, it seemed like I was right. But then, after the truck stop, when you guys came back…” He went quiet, then looked over at me. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

There was a note of pleading in his voice. Tell me I’m wrong, Chloe. Please. And everything in me wanted to say it. This was Simon. Everything I’d ever dreamed of in a boyfriend and here he was, mine for the taking. I only had to say the words, and I tried. I tried. But all I could manage was another weak, “It’s not like that.”

“Yeah, it is.”

He started to walk away, back in the direction we’d come. Then he stopped and, without turning, he reached into his jacket and held out a rolled-up paper, murmuring, “This is for you.”

I took it, and he continued walking.

Fingers shaking, I unrolled the paper. It was the picture he’d drawn of me, now colored. It looked even better than it had in the sketch. I looked better. Confident and strong and beautiful.

The picture blurred as my eyes filled with tears. I quickly rerolled it before I ruined it. I took a few steps after him and called out. I could see his figure in the distance, still walking, and I knew he heard me, but he didn’t stop.