Chapter Eleven

Stacey slipped into the crowd. For a split second, I considered going after her, but my feet were planted on the spot and I couldn’t stop staring, dumbstruck, as the flames licked furiously along the edges of the photograph. Within seconds, they had eaten away at the paper until there was nothing left but a little pile of black ash settling on the fire logs. The noisy hum of the pub faded into the background as I stayed fixated on the charred remains of Nick’s link to the real world. My chest tightened, and I couldn’t seem to draw any breath through my lungs. The heat of the flames and the overall warmth of the room came together to make a hot, thick wall around me, squeezing me in. I felt like I was back in my nightmare about the fire on Ennis Avenue.

Don’t lose it, I commanded myself. Stay grounded.

But even after I counted to ten three times, my throat swelled with emotion. I could feel the frustration and panic mounting inside me. Nick had only just begun to get his memories back. Without the picture, how would he fully find himself again? How would I ever get him back to St. Peter’s? There wasn’t time to go back home, find another memory trigger and bring it to him. The mural would be painted over any time now. I swiped a trembling hand over my forehead, where beads of sweat gathered across my skin.

“Julia.” Nick touched my sleeve. “Are you all right?”

The concern in his voice was almost enough to bring a sob to my lips. “No. That picture… We needed that picture.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into her. That was a cruel thing to do.” His mouth tightened in a grim line. “I’m going to go after her.”

I grabbed his arm. “No, the damage is already done. I just want to get out of here. I–I need a quiet place to think.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but he must have seen the panic reflected on my face because he nodded, and without a word, took my elbow to guide me back outside. His touch centered me, and by the time we were in the sleigh, the night air cooling my flushed face, I had gained control of my emotions. It was a tenuous control at best, but it was enough to get me through the ride back to the cottage.

When we arrived, Nick told me to sit down while he made me some tea. But I couldn’t sit. I paced the living room, afraid that if I stayed still for even a second, my panicked thoughts would overwhelm me and the line that was currently balancing my emotions would snap.

Nick frowned at me when he emerged from the kitchen, holding a mug. “You’re shivering. Get in bed.”

“I can’t just lie there,” I protested. “I have to do something. I have to figure this out.”

“You can figure it out from there.”

Sighing, I slid underneath the covers and reached out to take the mug when he offered it. “You don’t understand, Nick. That picture was bringing your memories back. Without it, I don’t know what to do. You’ll forget again.” I bit my lip, dangerously close to tears.

He tucked the quilts around my shaking body, then turned to build a fire. My heart beat furiously in my chest. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Oh God. Is he forgetting already?

I ran my eyes over the long lean lines of his body as he arranged wood in the fireplace. He threw a match in and when the logs caught, he nudged them with the poker, his movements slow and measured. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly as dry as sawdust.

Turning, he brushed his hands on his jeans. His eyes were distant.

“Nick? Did you lose the memories already?”

He just shook his head and crossed the cabin. He stopped at the front window, his back to me again. The silence wore on as he stood staring out at the dark night, his fingers curled around the windowsill. Finally, I opened my mouth to speak again, but at the same moment he swiveled and faced me. With a jolt of surprise, I realized there was pain in his eyes. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Then what is it?”

“I remembered you on your bike and I remembered the night of our first kiss—and I still remember. But not because of a picture.” He stepped to the bed and sat down, resting his hand on the quilt. Another inch or so and his fingers would brush against mine. “I think I remember those things because you touched me.”

“What?” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

He lifted his mouth in a lopsided smile. “Whenever you’ve touched me, like for more than a few seconds, it was like something happened to me. I felt this…connection. And every time, I had a flashback. When I held you after your dream, I remembered the day we met. A few minutes after you touched my face outside the pub, the night of the graduation came back to me. I don’t think the picture was making me remember.” He trained his gaze on my face, the golden flecks in his eyes shining in the firelight. “It was you.”

I thought back to those moments when I’d touched him, those moments when it’d been a lingering touch, and realized it was true. Each time he’d been struck by a memory not long after. It could have been a coincidence. He’d still had the picture in his possession then. But something else occurred to me. I recalled how Dave had reacted outside the pub when he’d grabbed me. When he’d held on to my arm, he’d had a flashback from the day I’d opened a portal and Luke’s teddy bear had been sucked into it. The memory may have been hazy, but it was there.

Maybe it was true then. Maybe touch could act as a memory trigger. Hope surged through me. If that were the case, it wouldn’t matter that the picture had been destroyed. I could use my touch to bring the rest of his memories back and I could get him home.

I raised my eyes to his. “Wait a minute. I kissed you. What happened when I kissed you? Did you remember something then?”

He nodded. “I came over to your house one day. I don’t know when it was, but I think I was carrying a skateboard.”

“That would’ve been about two years ago,” I said with a small smile. “You went through a short-lived skateboarding phase around the time we started dating.”

“Oh. Okay. Anyway, I let myself in. I heard voices coming from the rec room downstairs. So I went to check it out, to say hello. When I got to the top of the stairs, I realized it was your mom and your aunt. Your mom was saying something like, ‘Those two are closer than ever. Thank God for the charm.’ And your aunt said, ‘But don’t you think she’s old enough to know about the magic now?’”

I felt all the blood drain from my face. “What was Mom’s answer to that?”

“I think she said, ‘There’s no need to tell her. She can live a happy life without ever knowing the magic exists.’ And a second later she came up the stairs, looking a little flustered, but when she saw me, she got totally calm. She just smiled and told me they’d been going over lines for her new play.” He shrugged, but he was white-faced. “I believed her.”

“You had no reason not to,” I pointed out.

“No, I should’ve been more suspicious about the whole thing. Your mom would never have been working on a play about magic. She only ever wrote dramatic scripts.” He scrubbed his hands over his stubbled cheeks and let out a ragged breath. “If I’d questioned it, I might’ve been able to find something out for you.”

I laughed. “Mom could lie her way out of a box. She wouldn’t have given up the family secret that easily. I mean, look how long she kept it from me.”

“But if you had known, you could’ve been prepared.”

I traced a red square of quilt with my finger. “Yeah. I know Mom had her reasons, but leaving me in the dark was a pretty crappy thing to do.”

“Exactly. So, if I could’ve warned you or something…”

“No.” I shook my head. “You can’t blame yourself. Come on. You overheard a conversation about magic. How could you have known Mom and Aunt Karen were talking about real magic?”

“I guess,” he said, sighing.

“Never mind that now. I want you to have a better memory. Let’s test your theory.”

He turned his mouth up in a suggestive smile. “What do you have in mind?”

I took his hand and laced my fingers through his. “This.” I looked at him intently, waiting for some sign of recognition to cross his face. He glanced down at our joined hands, stroking his thumb over mine. The gentle caress had me tingling from head to toe. I tightened my hold on his hand, and after a moment, his head snapped up.

“What?” I prompted. “What came back to you?”

“A science fair project. We made papier-mâché models of the planets. We used luminescent paints so they would glow in the dark.” He paused, laughing. “And when you tried hanging Jupiter from your basement ceiling, it brought down three tiles.”

A wide smile spread across my face. It was working. “That’s right. We were in grade eight. You let me play Britney Spears’ music the entire time we worked on that project, even though you can’t stand her.”

“Did we get first place in the fair?”

“Tenth. You kept saying the judging was rigged. You thought we should’ve won.”

“Huh,” he said thoughtfully.

“I agreed with the judges actually. There were a lot of projects that were better than ours. But I loved you for saying it.” My gaze locked on him again. There was an unexpected tenderness in his eyes. Emboldened, I touched my lips to his, kissing him lightly before I pulled back.

“How about now?”

He made a low sound in the back of his throat. Then, a small nostalgic smile. “Valentine’s Day. I told you I loved you and that I’d wait until you were ready.”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling like my chest was going to burst. “That’s right.” I let go of his hands so I could push my hair back from my face and gather it into a loose knot at the nape of my neck. All the cold had seeped from my body now and a flush warmed my skin.

He caught my arm. “Don’t let go. The memories are coming faster now.” His gaze travelled to my mouth. “I want to remember more.”

I swallowed. “Okay.”

He smoothed his hands over my shoulders and kissed me. His mouth was hungry and insistent this time. I parted my lips and felt the soft tip of his tongue trace mine. He wrapped his arms around me. I melted into him, letting out a quiet moan.

Then the kiss changed. There was a tenderness in the warmth of his lips, in the way his hands caressed my back. It felt familiar.

It felt like home.

After a long moment, he pulled back and held me at arm’s length. He searched my face, his caramel-brown eyes clear and focused on mine. He smiled that crooked smile I knew so well and lifted a hand to touch my cheek. “Julia.”

My stomach did a backflip. I stared back at him, hardly daring to hope. “What do you remember now?”

When he answered, his voice was soft with wonder. “Everything.”

I threw my arms around his neck and pressed my cheek into his solid chest. I could hear his heart, matching the furious beat of my own. A heady mix of relief and joy coursed through me, knocking off the weight that had been sitting on my shoulders. “Thank God.” I lifted my head to look at him, to weave my hands through his hair and touch his face as if he might disappear. “Is it really you? You know who you are?”

His arms tightened around me again. “It’s me,” he whispered into my hair. “God, I feel like I’ve been dreaming and I just woke up. How could I have forgotten, Julia?”

“It’s the mural. It takes away your identity. Makes you believe you’re someone else.”

“I can’t believe you can create portals. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it.”

“I know,” I said softly. “I can barely still believe it myself. Bet you never thought your girlfriend would turn out to be a freak.”

The knot in my hair came loose and a mass of waves tumbled around my shoulders. Nick tucked a length of it behind my ear. I shivered as his fingers brushed my skin. “Hey, this thing you can do… Yeah, it’s pretty crazy. But it doesn’t change the way I feel about you, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, sighing.

We held each other for another long moment, not saying a word. Then Nick broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Jules.”

His voice was filled was raw emotion. I released him so I could look into his face. Tears shimmered in his eyes. “What is it?” I asked. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be all right now.”

Anguish was carved into his features. “Your mom. I can’t believe she’s gone. I wish I could’ve done something. Anything. I’m so, so sorry.”

I held up a hand. “No. No pity party now. I thought I lost you both, so from where I sit, I’m grateful. Mom’s gone, and that’s a nightmare I have to live with every day, but you’re here.” I smiled. “I’m pretty friggin’ happy to have you back. And I’m going to get you home.”

He dragged his hands through his own hair now. “I remember everything else, but the fire is all still kind of a blur.”

“Well, you were unconscious then you were sucked into the painting. It was a lot to go through.” Determined to steer the conversation away from my mother, I said, “What happened when you first got here? Do you remember anything about that?”

“I woke up in the snow in front of the café. At first, I think I knew I’d been sent somewhere, and I tried to hold on to the thought of you. But then Stacey found me, and Doris took me under her wing, and suddenly, I had this new life. Everyone was calling me Daniel and I believed that my life was here. They all believed I’d always lived here.”

“I wish I’d known you were alive,” I said, a tremor in my voice. “I wish I’d known you were trapped here. I could’ve come after you sooner. Or if I’d gotten home earlier—”

“If you’d gotten home earlier, you might have been trapped in the fire, too. If you died, who would have saved me, huh?” His eyes twinkled a little.

“Nick…”

He gripped my hand and brushed his lips across my knuckles. “You know it’s true,” he said. “I mean, against all odds, you followed me here. You came in with some guy who just got out of juvie, and hurting like hell, you found me. Right?”

“Right.”

“Because of you, I remember. And I never want to forget again.”

His lips recaptured mine. And, feeling the warmth of his mouth and his hands in my hair, any last traces of my guilt and regret subsided. When he pulled back, his face was serious. “I’ve never wanted anyone but you.”

“Ditto.” I tilted my head, intending to give him a quick kiss in return, but found my lips lingering on his. He moved his hands up and down my arms, caressing. I sighed as he nuzzled my throat. Swept away on a current of passion, all thoughts of getting us back home flew out of the window.

He trailed kisses down my throat, then sought my mouth again. My body tingled in response. Our legs tangled together. I crushed myself against him, wanting to be as close as possible. He ran his hands under my shirt, stroking my skin. Then he broke away with an unmistakable question in his eyes.

“Julia?”

“Yes,” I said breathlessly. “Yes.” To demonstrate that I was ready this time, I pulled the shirt over my head and reached over to help him with his. A moment later, his bare flesh was pressed against mine. Our kisses grew even more heated. I revelled in the feel of him, of solid muscle and curves.

And digging my fingers into his shoulders, I clung to him like I was never going to let go.

* * * *

The best sleep I’d had in two months was interrupted by a pounding on the cottage door. I pried my eyes open and squinted against the blinding rays of morning sun that streamed through the window.

Nick bolted upright beside me. We both scrambled to find our clothes and dressed in record time. I’d just pulled on my shirt when the door flung open. A burst of cold air entered the cabin, and Luke along with it.

“Well, well, well,” Luke said with his characteristic sneer, “look who ran away again.” He slammed the door and stepped into the living area. He glanced at the rumpled bed, then at my disheveled appearance. “So, you finally did it? Does this mean you remember who you are, loverboy?”

“Yeah,” he said through gritted teeth. “And I told you to stop calling me that.”

Luke laughed. “No way. It fits you more than ever now. Doesn’t it, Princess?” His eyes glittered as they ran up and down my body. “Was it everything you imagined it would be? Or did he disappoint you?”

Nick came to stand next to me, putting a protective arm around my shoulders. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t just barge in here like this!”

“I can if there’s no lock on the door. And seeing that Julia is my ticket out of here, I have a right to know what’s going on.” His gaze settled on my face. “When were you planning on telling me he got his memory back? In case you forgot, we’re up against the clock here.”

Crap. He was right. I’d let myself get caught up in the moment with Nick, but we didn’t have much time.

“It sort of happened all of a sudden. I—ah, we found out that a person can act as a memory trigger much faster than a personal item. Through touch.” I cleared my throat, annoyed that my cheeks felt like they were on fire.

Luke’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You wanted a faster way to get your father to remember, right? I said I didn’t know of one, but I was wrong. This is the way, Luke. Touch your father’s arm, hug him, hold his hand…whatever. His memory will come back.”

“Christ.” He scowled as he pulled his lighter and a cigarette from his coat pocket. “Anything else you want me to do? Braid his hair and sing 'Kumbaya'?”

“If that’s what it takes,” I said, my lips twitching. “You’re his best chance.” Maybe not his only chance, I thought, my smile fizzling out. I’d figured that out when Tom held my arm. But it would be better if his memories were triggered by Luke.

“All right. Fine,” Luke muttered, putting the cigarette between his lips. “There’s just one problem.”

Nick frowned. “Don’t smoke that in here.”

Luke glared at him but pocketed the cigarette and lighter. “Whatever. Cigarettes taste like shit since they got wet, anyway.”

“What’s the problem, Luke?” I asked.

“I spent all night in the pub with my old man, waiting for him to remember. But he kept knocking back the booze and passed out. By the time he woke up, I was asleep. Next thing I know, Susan is shaking me, telling me I have to go because she’s closing up the place. Know what else she told me? That drunken idiot went for a horse ride up into the mountains.”

I raised my eyebrows. “After drinking all night?”

“What can I say? He’s crazy. Anyway, I’m not going after him by myself.”

“I’ll come with you.” I turned to Nick. “You don’t have to stay here anymore. I’ll open a portal so you can get back home.”

“No way. I’m not leaving you here with him.” He watched Luke over my shoulder, his expression stony. “Besides, you guys don’t know those mountains. You’ll need a guide. It’ll be much faster if I go with you.”

I hesitated. “I can’t risk that you’ll forget who you are.” I’d just gotten him back, and the thought of losing him again so soon made my chest ache.

He cupped my chin in his hand, his eyes steady on mine. “I won’t,” he assured me. “Not as long as I’m with you.”

“All right.” I nodded. “Then let’s go. We don’t have much time left.”

As we piled out the door, I glanced up at the rolling hills. What had once been a backdrop of beauty and serenity in a painting was now a vast and imposing obstacle that made my eyes water. But if I was going to navigate it, I had to stay calm.

* * * *

We climbed up into the hills, me and Nick together on Dusty, while Luke rode the doctor’s horse, a gleaming chestnut named Gracie. The horses were quick, making good time through the deep snow. Within minutes we’d left the village behind. We rode through landscape dotted by fir trees and swelling with ice-crusted mounds that winked in the sun.

We called out for Luke’s dad until our throats were raw, but the only answer was the wind whistling through the trees. I wrapped my arms around Nick’s waist as he guided Dusty along a well-beaten path. My head swiveled as I tried to take in everything, hoping I would catch a glimpse of Tom’s dark hair or another horse. But all I could see was the sun bursting through the trees and the layer of dazzling white that covered every inch of our gradual incline. I wrinkled my nose, wishing I hadn’t made the snow so clean and pure.

In the 3D world of my painting, it was giving me a headache.

Bob Ross had encouraged artists to immerse themselves in their paintings, but this was taking it to a whole new level.

At the first ridge, I glanced behind me, sweeping my eyes over the ground we’d already covered. For just a split second, I thought I saw a flash of movement in a patch of firs, and I asked Nick to stop the horse. But when we backtracked, there was no sign of anyone, just the slow sway of branches in the wind. Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me.

When we reached the second ridge, Luke let out a string of curses. “Where the hell is he?”

“He usually doesn’t go much farther than this,” Nick said. “But maybe he decided to keep going today.”

“For frig sakes,” Luke muttered. “Help me get off this damn horse, would you?”

“Why?” I asked.

“I need to take a leak, all right?”

“Fine. I guess I could use a quick break, too.” I shifted uncomfortably on Dusty, my butt aching. “But we can’t stop for long.”

Nick slid off Dusty and helped me down before turning to give Luke a hand. As Luke disappeared into a grove of firs, I paced through the sparkling snow, my boots making loud crunching noises. Trees formed a wide semi-circle behind me and the land spread out on either side in undulating patterns that seemed to go on forever. I turned back to stare down the sloping tundra, tugging a hand through my damp, snarled hair as a feeling of cold desperation curled itself around me.

“It’s going to be all right,” Nick said softly.

“We have to find him, Nick. It doesn’t matter that he had some kind of vendetta against me. It was my mother who sent him here, my family’s cursed magic that’s responsible for this whole mess.”

He caught my hand. “Julia, look at me.”

I raised my eyes to his and was surprised by the intense expression on his face.

“You can’t blame yourself for this, and you can’t blame your mother. No one meant for this to happen.”

“Maybe not, but I have to fix it now.” I chewed on my lip. “And we’re running out of time. The mural is going to be painted over any time now.”

He skimmed his eyes over the rolling hills above me, then squinted up at the sun, bright as a flame in the crisp blue sky. “Well, everything looks the same as it always does. I think we’re okay for a little longer.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Hey, we’re going to get through this. You’re going to get through this. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I’m not as strong as I used to be.” I took a deep breath. “Do you know why Luke calls me ‘Princess’?”

He shook his head.

“Because Trisha gave me the nickname ‘Ice Princess’ after she heard I didn’t cry at the memorial service for you and Mom.”

“You can’t pay any attention to that bitch, Julia. Besides, I understand why you didn’t cry. You explained all that to me.”

“But she was right,” I continued. “I was like an Ice Princess. I didn’t grieve like most people do because I was cool and calm, in control of my emotions, like usual. The thing is, I’m not like that now. Any little thing can set me off. I’m a freakin’ mess, Nick. I’ve changed. I’m not the same girl you—”

“What?” he cut in, his browns drawn together. “Not the same girl I fell in love with? Don’t you dare say that. I told you that my feelings for you haven’t changed because you’ve learned you’re a Vista. And what? You think I’m going to run away because you have to work to curb your emotions now, like the rest of us? That only makes you human, Jules. You’re still you.”

I loved him for saying it, but I didn’t want to be this way forever. I didn’t know if Luke really did know a secret about getting rid of the Vista magic, but if he did, I was going to get it out of him.

Nick put his arms around me. I rested my head on his shoulder, already feeling steadier in his embrace. Neither of us said anything for a long moment, and as he stroked a hand over my hair, some of the anxious knots in my stomach unfurled.

“Thank God you’re here,” I whispered.

He laughed. “Told ya you’d want me along for the ride.” He tightened his hold on me. “We’re in this together, okay? And we will find Tom. He can’t be too far.”

“Jesus,” Luke said behind us. “Will you two sappy idiots get a room? Oh, wait. You already did that.”

Nick and I broke apart. We both glared at Luke.

“What?” Luke gave us a nasty grin. “I’m only speaking the truth here.”

“Yeah well, what you can do is shut up. Don’t forget, Julia can—” Nick stopped, frowning at Dusty, whose ears had suddenly perked up. “What is it, boy? What do you hear?”

“I don’t hear anything,” Luke complained.

Nick shot him another look. “Horses can hear a lot better than humans. There must be something out there.”

All three of us trained our eyes along the path, but there was no movement. I was about to suggest we get back on the horses and continue our search when Dusty’s ears shot up again, and he tossed his head a little. A few seconds later, another horse came around the bend carrying Tom. He widened his eyes as he approached us. “What the hell is going on here?”

“We’ve been looking for you, old man.”

“Haven’t you caused enough trouble, boy?” Tom said, swinging down from the saddle. “You’ve already played your little games with me, and now you come up here to disrupt my peace and quiet? And I see you’ve dragged one of our locals with you.”

Luke strode over to his father. “Give it up. Nick isn’t a local and neither are you.”

“Well, you’d like me to think so, wouldn’t you?” Tom glanced at me. “You and your friend put some crazy ideas in my head. I had dreams all night about watching some woman named Charlotte on TV then going to her house to find her. Had to come up here to clear my head.”

Luke spat on the snow. I cringed. So much for my unblemished landscape. “Got news for you. Those weren’t dreams. They’re memories. They really happened. Charlotte is Julia’s mother. You went after her on your stupid, pathetic quest for revenge or to try to fix me or whatever. And because you did that, you ruined all my plans.”

“Plans? What’s he talking about?” Nick murmured to me.

I shrugged. “No clue.”

Tom’s face darkened, and he seized Luke by the shoulders. “You’re a liar. I don’t know you. I don’t know any of you.”

Luke flicked his gaze to me. I nodded, hoping he understood this was a prime opportunity to use touch to elicit more memories. Obviously, the dog tags had started to work, but we needed to hurry the process along. To my relief, he nodded back, almost imperceptibly. Then he brought his hands up to cover his father’s, curling his fingers over them.

“Like it or not, I am your son. I’ve been living under your roof since Mom left.”

Tom opened his mouth to toss back another retort, but then he closed it. The anger in his eyes fizzled. A glazed expression passed over his face. “What did you say?”

Luke tightened his grip on Tom’s hands. “I already told you all this. Mom left us when I was three. It’s been just you and me ever since. We moved to Ennis—”

“Avenue,” Tom finished, looking as pale as the snow. He shook off Luke’s hands and backed up. “How did I know that?”

“Because you lived there, old man.”

Tom licked his lips. “I remember a little girl. She tried to send you away. Did that really happen?”

“Yeah, it happened. And when you went to see Charlotte, she opened a portal and you got sucked in.”

“I don’t understand.”

Luke stepped forward and grabbed his father’s wrist. “She was a witch, just like her daughter over there.”

A strong wind kicked up snow around us like a sandstorm. I shut my eyes against it. When I finally felt the flurry begin to settle, I opened my eyes and blinked in surprise. The grove, which only a second ago had been bright with morning sun, was suddenly filled with the muted light and lengthy shadows that usually accompanied twilight.

I turned back to Tom. He continued to stare down at Luke’s face, immobile. He seemed not to have noticed the abrupt change in light at all. “Charlotte and Julia Parsons,” he said in a dazed voice.

“That’s right,” Luke said. “Do you remember now?”

Tom pulled away from Luke with a gasp, and I could tell from the sudden light in his eyes that the rest of the pieces had fallen into place. “Yes, I do. I went to see Charlotte to get some answers, and she sent me here. She opened some kind of hole and I went through it.” He pivoted towards me. His blue eyes sharpened, and when he raked them over me, he looked eerily like his son. “She used black magic on me, just like you did when my son was only a boy!”

“It’s not black magic,” I protested. “It’s—”

Tom pointed at me, his finger trembling. “You traumatized him, making that hole appear right in front of him—a hole that almost sucked him in! After that, he became unmanageable, always in trouble. To this day, I can’t keep control of him.”

“It was an accident, and it didn’t have anything to do with how your son turned out.”

“No.” His head snapped up. “I don’t believe that. You were a freakish child out to get my son, and years later you and your mother are still using your witchcraft!”

I started to tell him that Mom wasn’t in a position to use magic anymore, but the wind took the words right out of my mouth. It rose around us, sharp and biting, and at the same time, the sky turned a shade darker.

“Did you see that?” Nick shouted over the roar of the wind.

Before I could answer, a brushing noise battered the landscape. It sounded like the bristles of a toothbrush swishing over tile, only magnified about a hundred times. I exchanged a startled look with Nick.

“What the hell’s going on?” Luke demanded.

The wind settled down. The odd noise stopped for a brief moment, but then picked up again, loud and insistent. It seemed to come from everywhere all at once. I peered up at the sky, now a dusky grey. A chill swept me from head to toe, but it had nothing to do with the wintry air.

Nick clutched my hand. “What is it, Julia?”

No, it can’t be. But there wasn’t any other explanation as to why darkness was descending at record speed.

“I think…” I said, licking my dry lips. “I think they’re painting over the mural.”