Chapter Fourteen

Pete slides me a paper mug of hot coffee and I wrap my fingers around the warmth. His face is so concerned that I don't have the heart to tell him that my appetite has been evaporated. I suppose that's a side effect of throwing up a bucket of goo.

"Would you quit looking at me like that?" I say as he takes the seat at the table, opposite me.

He frowns, "I'm not looking at you in any particular way."

"Yes you are." I grumble. "Like I've got the black plague or something."

He sighs, "I'm just worried, okay? I just watched you throw up melted asphalt, and I have no idea how to help you."

"I'm fine now," I nod, internally surveying my body for any strange aches or stings. Surprisingly, I don't feel horrible. I had had a severe cold sweat when I was under, but now, there's nothing. If anything, I feel strong again.

"What was that...stuff?"

"I have no idea, Pete. Whatever it was, it was disgusting. It tasted...like—"

"Iron?" Olivian takes hold of the chair diagonal to me, ripping it out from the table and plopping down into the seat.

"Where'd you get it?" Olivian cuts. Her voice is hard, impatient, matching the way she has her arms snaked together. She and Beck have just come from behind a shelf of books in the back of the library. They were back there for a solid fifteen minutes, and though they were too far away to hear much more than a muffle, I can tell by the way her mouth is pursed and eyebrows are crinkled that they were fighting. About what is the question.

She scoffs, obviously annoyed with my lack of response. She repeats, "Where'd you get the spell?"

I shrug, "I found it."

There's no way in hell I'm selling out her little brother. I practically owe him my life for sneaking the spell to me against his sister's wishes.

"I'm sure," she groans. "Alright, let's talk about the fact that you can't seem to understand the concept of 'giving someone your word'."

"Leave her alone, Ollie," Beck grumbles. He's behind me, leaning up against the librarian's office with his hands stuffed in his pockets. If Olivian were more accommodating, I'd crack a joke about his brooding scowl.

"No, I want to hear it." She stretches her closed hand out, her pointer finger stretched out from her fist like a one. "Why is it that, when I asked you to leave him out of this, the first thing you did was drive to his work and recruit him to do exactly the opposite?"

Despite the thousand variations of insults currently pumping through my head, I don't say anything and look back down to the cup in my hands. I can feel the temperature rising in my blood, and the longer I keep my eyes on her dark glare, the more it begins to boil.

"Seriously? Did you puke out your tongue?"

"Beck," I say through clenched teeth. "Get her out of my face."

I feel his focus shift on me, confirming that he heard my demand with his super sonic wolf ears, but he doesn't move from his spot against the office door.

Is he afraid of her magic? I wonder, and then it hits me...the blood oath. Loyalty is probably some unspoken promise, but how deep does it run? If anything, this makes the need to scratch the itch under my skin more intense.

"How'd you get the spell?" She repeats, and when I look up, she has that same finger pointing at Pete's chest, as if intentionally baiting me by digging her nail into his blue sweater.

I stand, kicking the wooden chair out from underneath me. It takes all of my might not to lunge across the table at her.

"Put your hand down before I break that damn finger," I seethe.

"Oh, I pressed a button?" Olivian rolls her eyes. "Good. Now, let's chat."

"I found the spell on Google. It was some weird purple and black witchy site with pictures of crystals and salt," I say, hoping she accepts this. It's not completely a lie, but rather a rearranged memory. I had visited that weird site, the day that I had been Googling about the supernatural and Ironide.

After a minute of weighing this information, she snorts and crosses one leg over the other. "No wonder you were vomiting your brains out. Who knows if the spell was right, let alone executed correctly?"

"Wrong? You mean there's a chance that the spell didn't take?"

She nods, "Nothing's fool proof, not even magic. To be honest, I'm shocked you didn't have any other side effects. Some spells can disfigure the caster's face or cause them to grow an extra limb."

"What?" Pete gasps.

She shrugs, "Well, all that energy has to go somewhere. It doesn't just disappear."

When Pete and I share a frown, she groans. "Magic is like a boomerang. When you cast, you release that energy...that 'boomerang'. While it's flying the energy surges with it, but after so long, the boomerang will start to curve and return. The difference with Magic is that when it does return, it returns tenfold. It's like, three times more intense than it was when you first released it."

"Do you feel differently?" Beck asks from across the way. He's still leaning up against the door, but it's only now that I notice that the distance seems more emotional than it does physical. If Olivian wasn't here, he'd probably be mocking me for something stupid, like how I had no problem gutting him with a skate or pointing a gun at his head, but it's the vomit that makes me faint.

Now, he just seems solemn, guarded, the same way he did when we first met. Is he always this...tense around her?

"No," I shake my head, but that's not true. Despite feeling that I need to double scrub in the shower, physically I feel fine, but how I feel emotionally is an entirely different story.

"You need to say something if you do."

His expression is so grave and serious that I almost feel bad for lying, but I don't want to say much in front of Olivian. I haven't figured out her motivation yet, but if it comes down to it, I trust that she'll protect Beck over anyone else...but that doesn't mean I trust her.

"Really, I'm fine." I attempt a reassuring smile, but he either doesn't get it or the face I've made is more awkward than it should be. "But, I do have a lot more questions than I have answers right now."

"Do you remember something?"

"Sort of. At least, I think so. It's all kind of a fuzzy mess of jumbled images. So, what I think I remember, may or may not have actually happened."

Olivian frowns, and before she speaks, Beck says, "We think someone was trying to tamper with her memories."

"Beck thinks I saw something I shouldn't have, like a supernatural being murdered."

"But, we won't know for sure until we know who was dishing out the Ironide."

A lump swells in my throat. That, I do remember, and as much as I hate it, I know that wasn't a dream. That was real, and though it may not have led into my house exploding, my Dad did hand Mom my iron pills. I know this because it happened right before we left for my first grade play. It all seems so ironic now—that I was dressed as a wolf when this whole thing began. Three hours ago, I had no idea why or who had done this to me, but all along, the culprits have been sitting right under my nose, talking to me face-to-face as if they had no qualms about ripping apart my life to create a false safety net.

"It was my parents." I taste the words on my tongue like they're made of ink. Saying it aloud makes it all the more real. I can feel my cleansed blood rising again. I'd give anything just to punch a wall or shatter a mirror right now.

Neither Beck nor Olivian say a word.

Pete, on the other hand, gasps. "Your parents? That's impossible."

"Actually, that makes perfect sense," Olivian replies.

"No, not Raif or Naomi. Well, okay, Raif probably, but not Naomi. Not your mom, Shell. She cries during those depressing animal shelter commercials with the Sarah McLachlan song. She couldn't poison you!"

I shake my head. His defense makes everything feel surreal, and it hurts.

"No, Pete," I say, pausing only to clear my throat. "I know it was them, both of them. I saw it."

"You remember?" Beck steps forward, and I nod.

"What do you mean, you saw them?" Pete's eyebrows crinkle tightly together. "Hold up, can someone explain to me what the heck is going on?"

"How far back do you want me to go?"

"Tell us everything, from the point where you met him," Olivian says, her eyes fixed on the werewolf now standing beside her. Part of me thinks she wants to know strictly to reassure herself he's still hers.

I sigh, and delve into the first memory I have of Beck and Olivian arguing in the cafe to him showing up on my doorstep, and how he could smell the poison in my system. I tell them how Pete and I deducted that we needed to go to The Fox Glove, and this is where I slip in that I found the spell online after going home. I talk about Beck and I at the house, and how I coerced him into conducting the spell with me. Obviously, I omit a lot of things for the sake of Olivian's rage, but I tell them enough to understand how we got to this point.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Pete says. The betrayal he feels is written all over his face.

"I was going to, and then you went on this tangent about needing physical proof, and it's not like I could have called Beck and said 'hey, can you come over and like, show us your teeth or bay at the moon? I'd really love to prove that I'm not crazy'."

"I say stupid things all the time, Shell! But, at least I'm being honest when I say them."

Olivian exhales sharply. "So, not only did you involve Beck in your crap when I asked you not to, but you also told someone else about him?"

"What was I supposed to do? I thought I was going mad! Partly, I still do."

"You could have kept your trap shut. That's always a viable option."

"Lay off, Ollie," Beck grumbles. "It's not her fault. Did you not hear the part where I searched her out, not vice versa?"

I groan. "Okay, instead of arguing about the smallest details of this situation, can we talk about what's going to happen when I remember everything? Or how about when other people realize that I remember? Am I safe?"

They'll kill her if they find her. Dad's words echo in my mind as if he were here, whispering them into my ear. I need to know what I saw, and why it's so crucial that I forget.

"Will all of my memories come back in dream form?"

"I'm not sure," Olivian shrugs. "To be totally honest, I'm shocked the spell worked as well as it did. Considering the other effects, you're lucky all you've had to deal with is a bit of vomiting."

I freeze. "What do you mean?"

"Olllie, don't," Beck warns, but he's too late.

"Well, technically you're the first person I've met where the spell actually did what it's supposed to. I mean, yeah the spell worked for the others too, but the difference was that their memories just poured into their heads. It all happened so fast that the energy surge was like a nuclear bomb went off inside their skull."

"They imploded?!" Pete gasps.

"Yeah, but it was like instant. So, let me know if you start bleeding from the ears or get a massive headache."

"Oh my god." I take a deep breath. Immediately, I take note of all the possible physical abnormalities I could be suffering from, but besides a light, warm tingling in my fingertips, the only difference I note is the heavy ache sitting on my sternum, like the bones have con-caved or something's gone missing. Perhaps this is simply what heartbreak feels like?

She scoffs, eyes fixing on her electric blue fingernails as if they were the most exciting thing in the room. "That's what happens when a human tries to cast a spell without any magical inclinations."

"What do you mean?"

Olivian groans as if she's growing annoyed with my questions. I'm annoyed that I have to ask, but this is the most detail she's gone into with me, so I'm not stopping until she does.

"Humans can't do magic," she says. "Yeah, they can use little potions or herbs given to them, but someone would have to be magically gifted to perform a spell of that caliber."

Rushes of nerves sparkle in my gut. "Does this mean...that I'm a witch? Could that be why my memories have been wiped?"

She snorts, "You? A witch? Please."

Beck shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "How'd she get the spell to work, then?"

"Fine. I don't officially know if she is or not. I'd have to look at her family lineage. But I can tell you that I can't sense it." She proudly adds, "I have an aura thing."

"Aura?" Pete and I ask simultaneously.

"Yes, aura." She sits up, obviously aggravated. "I can sense when other witches are present. It's sort of like a perfume that radiates color, and you don't have it."

I have to refrain myself from snapping at her. She seems much too happy that I don't fit her witchy criteria.

Olivian continues, "So, I'm going off the old textbooks, but it's not uncommon for a human to be able to tap into a channel if they do it through a supernatural. Humans are like a big ball of energy too, but the flow is not as strong as an energy derived from magic. Basing this off what you two say, Beck was sitting inside the salt barrier you created, right?"

We both nod, and she adds. "So, from what I'm guessing, she was able to tap into my channel through you, Beck."

If that's true and the bit about spells backfiring is true, then that's twice in the same week that Beck has saved my life.

Beck shifts the weight from his left foot to his right, and from the way he staring into space, has me wondering if he's realized this too.

"Magic? Werewolves? Supernatural entities? You guys do realize how crazy this sounds, right?" Pete kicks out of his seat, the anxiety obviously eating at him as he paces around the library.

I wait until he stops moving before I get up and stand by his side. "Pete, you don't have to be apart of this. You can walk out now, and I'll understand."

He scratches the crown of his moppy blonde hair and exhales sharply. Finally, he replies, "No. I can't let you deal with this alone."

"Good." I want to hug him, but instead I nudge him with my elbow.

"Welcome to the Scooby Gang," Olivian snorts.

Pete and I make our way back to the table. He asks, "So, this channel thing. If Shell hadn't tapped into it, she could be dead?"

She bobs her chin nonchalantly. 'Isn't that what I just said?' I can imagine her saying.

"And you could have prevented her from possibly killing herself by simply helping us when we asked?"

All humor drains from her face. "It's not like I knew she was going to perform the ritual! All you two asked about was that damn flower."

"Hey, we don't have time to argue, okay?" I suck in a breathe, waiting for them to stop trying to telepathically kill each other. "Olivian, what else can you tell us about the channel? How could I tap into your channel through Beck?"

"The blood oath," Beck and Olivian say simultaneously. But, the way she says it is hard, like internally she's screaming, He's mine. Touch and you die.

I wonder if he feels the same way about her? So fiercely protective? If so, is it a side effect of the blood oath, or does it stem from something...deeper?

"What the hell is a blood oath?" Pete asks.

"Oh my Nyx, I can't do this anymore!" Olivian tosses her hands in the air as if surrendering. "The more questions you ask, the thicker the chain is that binds me to you. Let's get this straight; I am here because of Beck. I am not here to help you, especially not you"—she squints hard at me—"so, if Beck needs my help. He knows where to find me. Good luck, and Au Revoir."

"You'll be fine, Conall." Beck says, ignoring Olivian's rude departure. "I'll be keeping an eye out for you, so just go about life regularly."

It's my turn to snort. How am I supposed to go about life regularly when I have to sleep under the same roof as the woman who poisoned me? Does she know that if she gave me one too many doses of the Ironide, I could have died?

"Pete, can I stay with you tonight? I don't know if I can be alone with my Mom."

He mashes his lips together, and I already know the answer before he gives it. "Shell, you know my mom wouldn't go for that...even if it were life and death."

I hate the fact that he's right. Never in a million years would Sarah Kemp let me stay the night with Pete, not even if I had a metal chastity belt locked around my hips.

"You know what, it's fine. Mom has a double shift anyway."

Pete nods, and though I can see he feels bad, it's probably best that we both have the time to think about everything.

After forging some late passes Beck stole from the behind the library desk, Pete breaks off from us in the hallway to attend the remaining classes of the day. I'd like to go so I don't miss drama class, but I'm too high-strung and exhausted to even think about the play.

I rummage through my bag for my car keys, and the second I pull them out, Beck snatches them, looking at me like there's no way in hell he's going to let me drive.

"Conall," Beck says when I shut my locker. "Thanks for, um, not totally selling me out to Ollie."

I meet his gaze, partially surprised Thanks is even in his vocabulary.

"Yeah, well, that would be a shitty way to treat someone who's saved my life twice."

Beck's expression morphs from a confused frown to a quirked brow. "You said twice?"

I confirm with a nod.

"How much do you remember?" He asks, swinging my keys on his middle finger.

"I'm not entirely sure. The dream I had, it really was so jumbled. I'm not even sure it was a dream. Parts of it felt so real, like I could smell the dirt on the ground and then snow, but then other things just seemed too...magical to be real." I adjust the bag's strap on my shoulder and we start walking towards the parking lot. "I can tell you one thing. There was one part that was incredibly vivid, and I'm fairly shocked that I'm not blind because of it."

"What's that?" Beck's brow switches back to confusion as he holds open the metal door for me.

"You. Totally, one-hundred percent naked."

And then I witness something I never thought I'd ever see: Beck blushing.