“O…K. Well, even then … do you not think this is a bit too soon, Maeve? We’re not even… We haven’t even talked about…”
I’m getting frustrated. If only he knew that this could be our last chance. My last chance.
“I’m ready,” I say, hurriedly. “Roe, I want you to be my first.”
I can’t even believe I’m saying this. I mean, it’s true. I do want him to be my first. But I never thought it would come out like this, with me trying to convince him.
“I’m … I’m flattered. And I … I want you to be my … my first. But is now really the ti…”
I press my body closer to him, and I see his conviction start to wilt. It’s too thrilling, all of this. Having a body. Feeling the power that comes with it. It’s like everything I love about witchcraft: it’s instinctual, animal, magnetic. He kisses me, long and slow, his hands pulling me towards him. He wants this as much as I do.
He breaks away again. “Maeve, we don’t even have anything.”
“Any what?”
“You know. Protection.”
A huge wave of sadness suddenly descends over me. How can we be so connected, so physically glued to each other, and be coming at this with such different points of view? Here’s Roe, worried about the future, about babies, about “protection”. And here’s me, with all the proof in the world pointing to the fact that there probably will be no future – for me at least.
He starts looking at me worriedly. “Maeve, are you…?”
I get up, and reach for my dress on the floor. “Never mind,” I say.
“You’re acting really weirdly.”
“Oh, really?” I whirl around. “You didn’t think that when I was—”
“No,” he interrupts, clamping both hands on my shoulders. “I mean, ever since I got here, you’ve been … off. Are you nervous about the spell or something? Is that it?”
“Yes,” I say tightly. “I am nervous about the spell.”
“Maeve, you need to tell me what’s going on. I feel like you know something that I don’t know.”
I shrug. “It’s 11.40. We should get going.”
“Hey, you dropped this.”
Roe bends down to pick something up off my bedroom floor.
My jet necklace has fallen between the pillows and off of the bed. I take it from him. Dad brought it back from Portugal. It was his way of saying that he wanted to understand me. It was supposed to be a protection charm.
I’m about to put it back on, but stop and look at it for a moment, smoothing my thumb over the black stone. Looks like I’ve had protection charms coming out of my ears lately, without even realizing it, but who’s protecting Roe?
“Why don’t you wear this? For the ritual?”
He smiles weakly as I lace it around his neck, the stone clicking softly against his glass pearls.
“It’s for protection.”
He kisses me softly and smiles. “When this is all over,” he says quietly, “I would like to please take you on a date.”
I laugh a little, the chuckle tinged with sadness. “We need to go.”
We trudge to the riverbank, him in the rabbit fur, me with my school bag. Fiona is already there.
“Hey, you two,” she says, a nervous smile on her face.
“Hey,” I reply. “Let’s do this.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
NOT ENOUGH LIGHT IS COMING OFF THE CANDLES, BUT FIONA has torches. Four of them.
“What’s the extra one for?”
“Well, one for each of us,” she explains. “And one for Lily.”
A glow opens up inside me. Lily. That’s the most important thing to remember. Whatever happens tonight, the end goal is still getting Lily back.
We spread a blanket out on the ground, and pour a ring of salt around it.
“I purify this circle,” Fiona calls, her voice loud and projecting into the dark, moonless. “I purify this circle and protect all who dwell in it.”
She loves this. Loves the theatre, the performance of it. It would be easy to take the piss out of Fiona, but you can’t fault her enthusiasm. Fiona simply doesn’t know how not to try her best.
“Maeve, you’re a Sagittarius. That makes you a Fire sign, so sit south.” She points to a corner of the blanket. “Roe, you’re Air, right?”
“Fifteenth of the sixth. Making me a Gemini.”
“Great. Sit east. And I’m Taurus, which is Earth, so I’ll sit –” she walks around the perimeter of the salt circle and stops at the north side – “here.”
“Then Lily is Water,” I say, my voice low.
“Yeah,” she nods, a little awkwardly. “Lily is Water.”
It must be strange for Fiona to be this invested in the fate of a girl she hardly knows. As she fusses with candles and the freshly cut herbs from Roe’s bag, I put my arms around her shoulders and kiss her on the cheek.
“Oh, hello!” she says, delighted with the affection. “What’s that for?”
“I’m just so grateful you’re doing this. And that you’re my friend.”
“Aww. Well. Don’t thank me now, thank me when it works.”
I nod. From the other side of the salt circle, I can feel Roe’s careful eyes on me.
Fiona takes the white satin out of her bag and unfolds it. It’s a huge length of material, as big as a duvet.
“This must have been expensive,” I say, amazed.
“Yeah. Well. Better to get something right the first time, right?”
The herbs from Mrs O’Callaghan’s garden are tied and burned. We each make the sign of the Goddess – a sort of three-moon drawing – in oil on each other’s foreheads. Our torches are on and sitting next to us, shining a spotlight to the centre. We each pick up a candle and carve LILY into it, just like I did the first night.
“Wow,” Fiona says when she attempts it. “This is harder than it looks.”
“Yeah,” I answer. Roe’s eyes watch me through the flickering lights. “You’d be surprised how hard these things get.”
Fiona nods, concentrating on the “Y” in her candle.
“All right, shall I start?” Fiona begins.
“Go ahead.”
“Hail to the watchtowers of the North, Lords of Earth,” she says grandly. “I do
