Magic Incarnate the Box Set 1-3, page 95
“I thought… I never…” Mrs. Miller talks some more, but I can only make out a few patches here and there. It’s incoherent, a rambling mess, and I feel awful.
“Mrs. Miller?” Bri says when there’s a slight pause in the garbled speech. “There’s a note…”
“From Crystal’s father,” I add as I sit on the love seat.
Mrs. Miller’s crying lessens some.
Not knowing what else to do, I read it out loud. It’s probably stupid to put so much faith and hope into a letter written sixteen years ago, but I do have faith and hope. Maybe I’m stupid, but I want to believe this. I may be dying, but you won’t ever.
By the time I finish, Mrs. Miller is completely composed. “Yes. Crystal is—was—magic. Magic incarnate.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“She was the embodiment of magic itself.”
Bri looks at me and nods. “So every time she prayed for something, she did it.”
“Not every time,” I mutter.
“Who was the woman you were talking to?” Bri asks. “When we arrived.”
Mrs. Miller stands, staring down at us like she’s a regal queen and we’re lowly servants. “You two should return home.”
“But—“ I protest.
“Please.” She opens the door for us, and we have no choice but to leave.
Bri drives me home. We don’t say a word. I’m sure Crystal can’t be dead. At the very least, she can’t stay dead.
The moment I walk inside, my mom confronts me, getting up from sitting next to Dad on the couch. “What is going on? With you, with Crystal… I’m starting to get very worried.”
“You wouldn’t believe me.”
Her eyes narrow. “Did you two get in a fight?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Then why didn’t she show up? Her mom was there, but with so many people there, I didn’t get a chance to talk to her.”
“She was…” Occupied? Busy? Dead?
“Please don’t do this,” Mom begs. “Don’t shut me out. Not today of all days.”
“You won’t believe me.”
“Vince. You aren’t a liar. I don’t think you’ll start now.” Her lips almost curl into a smile, but her worry outshines her weak joke.
Would Mom believe me? I’m not sure, and today has been draining and terrible and brutal, and I don’t think I can handle her disbelief on top of it.
“If he doesn’t want to talk about it,” Dad says softly.
But I know Mom. She won’t let this go, and I also don’t want her to think poorly of Crystal either.
“Ask Mrs. Miller about Crystal,” I finally say. I duck upstairs to my room but don’t close the door.
My parents talk in hushed tones, and then Mom gets on the phone. With Mrs. Miller. I try to listen in, but the conversation is one-sided, and not all of it makes sense.
I go to the bathroom and stare at my reflection. Is it just my imagination, or do I look different? I sure feel different.
Dad’s razor is by the sink, and before I realize what I’m doing, I start to shave my head. I don’t stop until it’s all gone. Not sure why I did it, but it’s done now.
After I clean up, I go back to my room, lie down on my bed, and close my eyes. The sound of the doorbell ringing wakes me. Dazed and confused, I sit up. I'm still wearing the clothes my mom picked out for me. Not exactly comfy clothes to wear. Stretching doesn’t help to alleviate the tension in my neck and shoulders.
“Vince?” my mom’s voice floats up the stairs. “Can you come down?”
I glance at the clock. Only a half-hour has passed. Huh, would've thought it was later. I feel drained, out of it. Tommy’s death had been a turning point in my life. Crystal’s death is gonna affect me too.
“Vince?”
“Coming.” I wipe a hand down my face and go downstairs.
Mrs. Miller is standing by the door, her hands clasped in front of her, knuckles white, her purse dangling from her wrist.
“Mrs. Miller. Hi.” What’s she doing here? She isn’t… Oh, maybe she is.
“Please sit.” My mom gestures to the love seat. My dad is on the couch still.
Mrs. Miller shakes her head but does place her purse on the arm of the love seat. I don’t move to sit either.
Mom sits next to Dad then jumps back up. “Would you like anything to eat or drink?”
Mrs. Miller shakes her head again. “You should sit, Marie.”
Mom glances from Mrs. Miller to me. “I’m starting to get very worried,” she says quietly as she sinks back down onto the couch.
Mrs. Miller offers me a small smile. “There’s something you… well… This isn’t something a lot of people know about. It’s even harder to people to accept, and—“
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Dad says, speaking for the first time, “but where is Crystal? Does this have something to do with her?”
Mrs. Miller looks at me helplessly.
I sit forward and clear my throat. “Mom… Dad… Crystal is dead.”
“What?” my mom shrieks.
“How?” Dad asks.
Mrs. Miller’s eyes are red, but she doesn’t start crying again. “Yes. Crystal’s dead. I don’t want to get into the specifics…” Here, she glances at me again.
Hm. Did she find Crystal’s body? How exactly did she die?
Do I even want to know? It would be reassuring to know if she went peacefully but if that hadn’t been the case…
“And there won’t be a funeral,” she continues.
I jerk back before I can stop myself. No funeral? Why not?
No body, maybe?
My chest grows tight, and the pain radiates outward, like a spider’s web. A few deep breaths don’t settle me at all, but Mrs. Miller has started talking again, a welcome distraction.
“Hardly anyone knew this about Crystal, but she was special.”
My mom smiles. “Of course she was.”
Mrs. Miller almost smiles. “Not like you’re thinking. You see… Crystal was… she had…”
“Magic,” I supply.
“Magic?” my dad repeats. His bushy eyebrows wiggle like worms.
“Yeah.”
Mom wrings her hands. “Did you see this… magic?”
“No.” I shrug and shove my hands into my pockets. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
Do I believe? I’m not sure I do. I mean, that would mean accepting that Crystal willing get a huge part of herself from me.
Then again, I felt her. I know she died without seeing her body. I can accept that.
But magic? Hocus pocus? That takes a level of faith I’m not sure I have.
Mom stares at Dad. They aren’t sure what to think either.
Mrs. Miller clears her throat. A tear trickles down her face. She holds out her hand toward the box of tissues on the coffee table. Slowly, a tissue eases out of the opening, floats over to her, and blots her tear away.
Okay. That was interesting, but if Crystal had been magic incarnate, could she do something a little more… I don’t know… magical?
Mrs. Miller flushes. “I’m just learning myself,” she says, as if to apologize. “I can’t do very much myself, but, Crystal, she could create fire. She could do anything.”
Mom rubs the back of her neck. “If Crystal could do all that, then…”
Why did she die? Good question.
Mrs. Miller holds up her hand and picks up her purse. “I know today has been a trying day for you. I hope I… I didn’t mean to intrude. I just… I wanted you all to know… Vince and Crystal were so close…”
“Thank you.” My mom stands and walks Mrs. Miller out.
Dad’s arms are folded, and a “V” is etched between his eyebrows. He’s thinking hard.
I'm not up for my conversation, so I tell him good night and dart back upstairs to my room. It isn't easy to settle—I have way too much on my mind—but eventually, sleep comes to me.
A knock at my window stirs me, and I walk over. Something is outside my window. I can’t tell because of how dark it is, but I open it.
Crystal lowers onto the windowsill and climbs inside. “Vince.” Her dark eyes are so bright that they’re almost glowing.
“Crystal. I thought…” I can hardly talk.
She plows into me for a hug, giggling and babbling about how she was sorry she missed the service, that she hoped it went well, that she hoped I didn’t hate her…
“Hate you.” I squeeze her tight. “Of course I don’t hate you. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“But I wasn’t there for you!” she wails.
“You’re here now.” I brush her beautiful brown hair back. “That’s what matters.”
Her kiss is sweet and salty.
“Are you crying?” I ask.
“No. You are.”
She’s right.
“What happened? What kept you? I thought…” I shake my head. I can’t say what I thought. How could I have believed her dead?
Crystal blinks, waiting for me to finish.
“Your mom,” I say haltingly. “She thinks…”
“Thoughts don’t matter. Only actions. I’m here,” she says, smiling brightly. “With you.”
I stop hugging her to hold her hands and glance at the window. “Did you fly here?”
“You know?” Crystal pulls away, dropping my hands. She sits on the edge of my bed.
“Yes.”
“Do you believe?”
I hesitate.
The light in her eyes dims slightly. “Do you believe?” she repeats.
“I want to.”
Her body flickers, going in and out, like a TV show with a bad connection. “Do… believe?”
“Crystal!”
She fades away and disappears.
I sit up, back in my bed. “A dream,” I mutter. It felt so real, though. My arms ache with wanting to hold her, and the tears from my dreams are on my cheeks…
I don’t know everything, but I do know I have to find her.
Chapter 4
The minutes creep on by. I don’t fall back asleep even though I want to. I long to see Crystal again, to hold her, kiss her, even if it’s only in a dream, but the world is a cruel place, and I can’t sleep.
The minute I hear stirring in the kitchen, I bolt out of my room and race downstairs.
My mom is fixing a pot of coffee. Dad is at the stove, scrambling some eggs.
I clear my throat. “So…”
“Vince. How do you feel?” Mom stops what she’s doing and comes over to give me a hug.
“I’ll feel better when I see Crystal again.”
Mom exchanges a glance with Dad.
Dad clamps a hand on my shoulder. “Son, you told us that she died.”
“And her mom said the same thing.” Mom smiles apologetically.
“You don’t understand.” I pull out the envelope. It’s already getting a little mangled. A pang of guilt courses through me. Maybe I shouldn’t hold onto this. Should give it to Mrs. Miller. But it showed up in my room. Kinda like Crystal wanted me to have it. To find it.
Wistful thinking. The envelope was sealed, remember? She never read its contents.
I read them the letter. Once I finish, Dad returns to cooking while Mom pours two cups of coffee. “See? Crystal can’t be dead. Or can’t stay dead. I have to go. I have to find her.”
“We’ll talk once breakfast is ready,” Dad says gruffly.
Mom motions for me to walk to the dining room table. I sit in my seat and stare at the one where Tommy used to sit, the same seat Crystal had sat in while we worked out details for planning the memorial service.
My mom drums her fingers on the mug handle. She’s not normally so quiet. Kinda unnerving.
I fold and unfold and refold the letter until Dad comes in, balancing three plates of eggs.
“Vince, can you grab forks?” he asks as he starts to put the plates down.
I jump up, grab them from the utensil drawer, and return. “I—“
“After we eat,” Dad says.
I inhale the food without tasting it. Dad finishes quickly too, but Mom picks at hers, and I grimace. She's always been on the thin side, but she lost a lot of weight she didn't have to lose after Tommy died. She just didn’t want to eat. I used to fight with her all the time about it. Dad would scold me for telling her what to do but then tell her to eat in the next breath. Our family doctor yelled at her too. Eventually, she started to eat again. I hadn't been the only one to go to a therapist.
Eventually, Mom puts down her fork. “Vince. I’m concerned. This has been a difficult time for—“
“No.” I slam my hands onto the table. “This isn’t the time for psychobabble. This isn’t difficult. It’s not hard. It’s easy. It’s simple. Crystal—“
“Supposedly is magic.” Dad strokes his chin. He shaved yesterday, but already stubble is growing. “Er, supposedly was magic. Had magic.”
“Look. You can believe or not. Doesn’t matter to me. I’m going to find her, and you can’t find me.”
“Oh, yes, we can.” Dad glowers at me. Now he can glower. It’s made me think twice more than once.
“I’ll run away.” I set my jaw and stand.
“Vince, please be reasonable,” my mom pleads.
“Be reasonable.” I snort. “So what do you suggest? Tell the police? Yeah, I’m sure that will go over well. Crystal’s body has disappeared, right? Maybe she’s come back already. Maybe she’s hurt and needs help. I can feel her, Mom. I can’t explain it. I knew that she died. We’re connected somehow and—“
“Do you hear yourself?” Dad rubs his forehead. “This all sounds—“
“Crazy, I know. Which is why I said we can’t go to the police. Magic isn’t common knowledge, and it should stay that way.”
“Mrs. Miller has magic,” Mom cuts in. “Some. A little. If Crystal is still out there somewhere, her mom should—“
“No. Her mom should stay here. In case she comes here before I find her.”
“Find her.” Dad shifts his chair back slightly and crosses his arms. “Do you have a plan? An idea of where to find her?”
A very good question. Haven’t thought that far. Can’t let them realize that.
“I do have a plan.”
“And it is…” Dad appraises me.
The idea hits me immediately. “The witches. I’ll go talk to them.”
“The ones who helped Crystal be born?” Mom squints her eyes like she does when she has a bad headache.
“Yes.”
“Are they still around?” Dad asks.
"Yes." I think. I hope. It's a good plan, right? He can't object.
They look at each other, communicating with their eyes. I think all kids hate that. I sure do.
Mom sighs and shakes her head. “It’s too dangerous,” she says firmly. “What if we lose you too?”
I wince. Way to lay a guilt trip. Mom sure knows how to use and abuse that trick.
“You won’t.”
“You can’t promise that! Vince, if magic is real, if Crystal is in danger…” Mom’s eyes grow wet.
No, please don’t let her cry!
Mom,” I say soothingly, “can you really ask me not to go find her? To bring her home?”
“But—“
“Just pretend I’m dead.” I say it without thinking. I say it without realizing what actually I’m saying. I say it, and I can’t take it back.
Pretend I’m dead. Pretend both of your sons are dead. Pretend to go through the grieving process all over again. Pretend I’m dead because I might soon be dead. It might not just be a game of make believe.
“Pretend I’m dead,” I repeat. “Just in case.”
A few tears stream down my mom’s face. Her silent tears eat at me worse than if she burst into tears.
Dad recoils in his seat as if I slapped him. “You want us to what?” he asks, his voice low and full of pain. “Pretend you’re dead? Why in the world would we do that?”
“Because,” I say simply, everything falling into place in my mind, “whatever happened to Crystal isn’t over. Whoever killed her might not be done.”
Granted, this might not be the case, but if I’m right…
“And if Crystal was targeted, maybe those she knows and…” "Loves," I add mentally before continuing aloud, "Maybe they'll be targeted too. Maybe I will be.”
“You can’t defend yourself against magic. If Crystal was killed, if someone hurt her, that means they’re strong and powerful. They will have no problem hurting you,” Mom points out. She’s no longer crying. A good sign. I hope.
“But if I am targeted next, I don’t want you all to be in danger too. I need to go. It’s the only way to make sure you all are safe too. I’m sure they’ll go after me first rather than you. Mrs. Miller can keep you safe and—“
“She can keep you safe too.” Dad crosses his arms.
“We don’t even know for sure how she died. There might not be a they.” Mom rubs her forehead.
“I can’t stay,” I all but shout. “You can decide how this is gonna go down, if we fight or if I leave with your blessing, but in case there is a they, in case she was killed, it will be safer for me if you pretend I died. It’ll buy me time. It’ll keep them from looking for me.”
Dad grimaces. Mom grumbles. Brianna shows up at one point, and her face tells me what she thinks—that I'm completely nuts—but she actually argues for me, helping to get them to understand that Crystal can't really be dead, that if she's not here, then she needs help. The conversation—the fight—goes around and around, but in the end, I win. I fake my death. We pretend that I got into a car accident, and I have a close casket funeral. I’m not really in the casket, and the whole thing costs my parents money that they shouldn’t have to spend. Once they accepted that I was going no matter what they said, even they agreed that this, as crazy as it was, was the best option for me.
So I’m off. I have a backpack full of food and supplies and a duffel bag full of clothes. The moon is my only friend as I ride my bike toward Mount Claymore, where Mrs. Miller told me I’d find the witches.
I’m tethering my bike to a tree at the base of the mountain when I spy a bike already tied to another tree.
