May’s stomach churned. “You mean about how she takes the town’s memories?”
“Yes. I did not approve, and I made my concerns known. Which meant she no longer approved of me.”
“Is that why you left?”
“That’s part of it. But those are dark times, May, ones I don’t particularly wish to relive.”
“I understand.” May paused. “I’m surprised she never tried to take your memories away.”
“As am I. I suppose there are some lines she’s still unwilling to cross.”
“I just don’t understand,” May said quietly. “She seemed completely unwilling to even accept that I might be able to help her.”
“That’s because she’s threatened by you.” Ezra gestured at the back of the house, the gabled roofs, the hawthorn’s dying branches. “She claims to want strong founders, but what she really wants is no one strong enough to challenge her. And because you can invert her powers, because you are capable of things she’s only dreamed of, she has tried to stifle you instead of allowing you to grow.”
“Just like what she did to Harper and Violet.”
“Exactly.” Ezra placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think we need to look at this anymore. I’ll be back in town soon. Meanwhile, you keep an eye on the corruption, all right?”
“Thanks,” May said, exhausted. They parted ways, and she passed her dying tree, looking toward the home that did not feel like a home at all.
Usually, people met beneath the bleachers behind Four Paths High School to hook up or smoke up. Harper had something very different in mind. She cleared out the space in seconds, couples scattering and kids hastily putting out their joints before they realized that she was not in fact a teacher.
“You don’t have to frighten them,” Justin said from beside her, watching with concern as a group of freshmen scrambled back like startled mice. “They’re just trying to enjoy their lunch period.”
“Would you rather do this in front of half the school?” Harper asked dryly.
Justin’s mouth twisted. “No.”
“I figured.” To be fair, this wasn’t exactly Harper’s first choice either, but the band practice rooms were taken. Slatted sunlight illuminated the graffiti scrawled beneath the bleachers, hearts and other body parts that Harper felt were an optimistic interpretation of reality. It smelled like gym socks and mold, but it was the only place they’d get a modicum of privacy during the school day to discuss what the hell was going on with the hawthorn tree. The meeting had been Justin’s idea—he’d wanted to talk through the damage with her—but Harper wondered if he’d regretted asking her to do it as soon as possible as he gazed around at their classmates, his brow furrowed with dismay.
“Hey!” Harper said, frowning at the few brazen stragglers who remained. “Everybody out. We need this space for founder business.”
“Dude,” murmured some sophomore Harper knew hung around with her brother. “We should listen to her. You know what she did to that tree.”
His friends nodded, their eyes wide as they crept out.
“Enjoying your newfound power, I see,” Justin said once they had finally been left alone. Harper was sure somebody was still eavesdropping, so she kept her voice down, glancing around for nosy classmates and their phones. Harper could hear a twinge of jealousy in his voice, and she didn’t blame him. A few months ago, he’d been the one who could empty a room just by clearing his throat.
“They don’t know I can’t control it,” she said quietly.
“No, they don’t,” Justin said. “I’m sure they would have moved a lot more quickly if they did.”
He paused for a moment, and an uncomfortable silence crept between them. Harper knew that it was more important for them to focus on the corruption than what had happened—or rather what hadn’t happened—between them at his birthday party. But it had been a few days, and it still wouldn’t leave her mind. How close he’d been, how sad he’d looked. How much the truth about what she’d seen in the Gray had hurt them both.
“So,” she said at last. “The hawthorn. Has the corruption totally overtaken what I did to it?”
He nodded, looking relieved to have something to talk about. “The idea was floated that you could potentially try to turn it to stone again, to stop the spread of the damage.”
“After weeks of you asking me to reverse it.” Harper shook her head. The irony of how quickly things had been flipped around was not lost on her. “My power isn’t reliable enough for that.”
“That’s what I said.” Justin sighed. “You, Violet, and Isaac are strong, but even combined, it isn’t enough to push back the corruption.”
“So you brought me here to tell me I’m not good enough?”
“No.” Justin reached into his backpack and pulled out a cheap pair of training swords. Harper recognized them immediately; the chipped paint on old wood. They were the same swords kids had used at the Founders’ Day festival, the day she and Justin had squared off and she’d disarmed him. “I wanted to try something new to unlock your powers.”
He held out a sword, and she took it automatically. It comforted her, as it always did—but for the first time, she wondered why. The power inside her was so much more dangerous than anything this blade could hold.
“Try something new?” she echoed hesitantly.
“I thought… maybe channeling your anger would help.” Justin hesitated, the words emerging slowly and carefully. Harper could see how much he’d thought about this. “You saw the Beast as me. You’ve tried discipline, you’ve tried training. But when you were upset with us, you turned that tree to stone. Your anger makes you strong—so go ahead. Be angry with me. Let’s fight the way you want to.”
Harper stared at him, her mouth dry.
For years she’d dreamed of such a moment, where they could square off as equals and she could show him what she was capable of once and for all. But he knew what she was capable of, and the world had already punished Justin Hawthorne far more effectively than she ever could. He was lonely and frightened, stripped bare of all the things that had made her so furious with him. Harper could not hate the boy who was left behind. She wasn’t sure what the answer to her power problems was, but she knew it wasn’t this.
“I don’t want to fight you,” she said softly, letting the sword fall into the dirt. “Not anymore.”
For better or for worse, Justin wasn’t the only founder who had fixated on Harper’s training. She got home from school that day to find Juniper waiting for her and Violet, whereupon Juniper led them up the stairs and through the trapdoor into the spire at the top of the Saunders manor. Harper’s spine tingled as she took in the white circle on the floor, the heavy curtains on the windows. The shelf full of dusty old books.
“So that’s where your family does their rituals,” she said, turning to Juniper Saunders. The older woman stood beside the velvet curtain, staring out at the woods, the crow’s-feet at the edges of her eyes crinkling with focus. She looked uneasy in here, which Harper supposed made sense. It had to be full of strange memories for her.