“Thank you for telling me,” Violet said softly. “And, Mom? Um. Me too.”
Juniper’s eyes went wide. “Violet—are you saying—”
“Yeah. I mean, I’ve never dated anyone, period. But I’m bi. And one day, I’d like to date someone.”
Juniper leaned forward and took both of Violet’s hands in hers. Her grip was firm and reassuring.
“I love you,” she said hoarsely. “And I’m so glad you trusted me enough to tell me. I know neither of us is very good at this kind of thing, but I promise, you can always talk to me about whoever you might want to date, and I’ll always support you.”
Violet let out a soft snort and tried not to think about Isaac’s dark curls. “There’s nobody to talk about.”
“Well, if that ever changes, I’m here.” Juniper paused, then added, “Honestly, Violet, I’m glad to see you making so many new friends. I’ve never seen you tolerate such a large group of people before.”
“You mean the group of people who all hate each other right now?”
Juniper paused, guilt crossing her face. She pulled her hands away from Violet’s. “I didn’t mean to drive a wedge between you and your friends, you know. I just… I failed my family all those years ago, when I ran away from Four Paths. This is my second chance, and I can’t fail again.”
“I understand that. But if you handle this the same way Augusta does, you’re no better than her.”
“You’re right.” Juniper shook her head; the words were hesitant in her mouth, and Violet knew they both weren’t used to talking like this. Like they were mother and daughter, but something else, too. Mutual survivors—the only ones left to carry on their family name… and to shoulder all their family trauma. “I was wrong to try to use you to get to Harper, and I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” Violet said, and meant it. “I’ll do my best to talk to Harper about this meeting, but I can’t guarantee anything.”
Violet twisted a red lock of hair around her finger. No, her mother wasn’t wrong that the Hawthornes did not deserve to have Harper on their side. But Violet wasn’t sure her family could do a much better job running the town than they had. That wasn’t the problem here—the problem was, as long as the Beast existed, the founding families would never stop fighting. And they were too caught up in their own petty struggles to see the bigger picture.
She’d been too scared before. Too concerned about the ghosts she’d see if she said yes to Isaac’s plan, the cost of failure if things went wrong.
But now Violet was ready. Now, at last, she understood that reckless gleam behind Isaac’s eyes.
Isaac watched the sunset from the edge of an all-too-familiar clearing, squinting miserably into the forest as he waited for Violet to show up.
It was early October, and the trees had started to show it. The forest was alive in the way things could only be when they knew they were dying, every leaf shot through with color, drifting through the air with points outstretched like it was trying to touch the sky one last time before being crushed into the dirt. He had always thought the autumn leaves were at their most beautiful in their final days, as if reminding the world that they should be mourned once they drifted to the ground.
Violet emerged from the trees. Her gray tabby cat loped at her side, his yellow eyes gleaming in the twilight. The red yarn tied around his ear matched her new hair color.
“You’re sure you can handle this?” he asked when she was close enough to hear him.
It shouldn’t have surprised him that Violet initially had been so unwilling to re-create what had surely been one of the worst moments of her life. But Isaac had been surprised anyway. Violet was cranky and cynical, but more than anything else, she was brave. He’d seen that time and again as they dealt with the Church of the Four Deities, as she went head-to-head with Augusta Hawthorne and the Beast. The idea that she could be hitting her breaking point unnerved him.
So when she rolled her eyes at him in response and said, “Of course I can handle it. What, are you scared now?” he couldn’t hold back a grin.
“Nah,” he said. “I’m not scared.”
She raised a still-dark-brown eyebrow. “This is a weird time to be smiling.”
“That’s my monster-killing face.”
“Uh-huh.”
Together, they stepped gingerly into the clearing where, just a few weeks ago, the Church of the Four Deities had tried to free the Beast from the Gray by allowing it to possess Juniper Saunders’s body. Isaac’s last memories of this place were pure chaos. Church members being escorted away by the Four Paths police force. The circle of bones they’d created being roped off by deputies. Blue and red lights flashing everywhere, illuminating the relief in Justin Hawthorne’s eyes.
Isaac remembered it so well not just because of the ritual, but because of a moment that had happened after, when Justin stopped him on the way back to the Hawthornes’ pickup truck and squeezed his shoulder.
“Thanks,” he’d said, voice gruff and low. “We’d all be dead without you.”
And Isaac had known then that if he didn’t learn how to say no to Justin, he would spend the rest of his life craving those tiny moments of gratitude. So he’d decided to stop it for good. Even though it would mean telling Justin the truth about his feelings. Even though it would hurt almost as much as his ritual had.
“Isn’t it so messed up that they can’t remember what they did here?” Violet’s voice floated through the clearing, anchoring him back in reality. “The Church, I mean. Augusta’s power is terrifying.”
Isaac shook his head and trained his gaze on her bright red hair. “I asked Augusta to help me forget, once,” he said quietly. “She told me no.”
Violet turned her head sharply, but there was no accusation on her face—only understanding.
“So did my mother,” she said. “That’s why she couldn’t remember what was going on here. That’s why she almost died. I promise you, whatever you wanted taken away—it wouldn’t have helped.”
Isaac let out a long, shuddering breath as a gust of wind whipped through the clearing, rustling the leaves of the chestnut oaks. It was a beautiful night, clear enough to see the shine of the half-moon above them reflected in Violet’s dark, solemn eyes.
“I know. But I wanted it to be easier. Even though I knew it was the weak thing to do.”
“There’s nothing weak about wanting to skip a step. To heal faster. To erase something terrible.” Violet stepped toward him, her voice gentle. “I wanted Rosie back so badly, it almost cost me my life. But I’m learning how to live without her, even though it’s hard.”
Isaac nodded, tears stinging the back of his throat, and turned away. Working with the Hawthornes, it had always felt as if he were the one putting everything on the line for them. Risking his life over and over again for their reputation, their safety, their comfort.
But Violet was risking just as much as he was to be here. More, maybe. It was new for him to feel another person making room for him the way he’d always been taught to make room for someone else.