“Nothing,” Opal replied. “I hear you’re moving to London. Same as Cass.”
“Yes,” Portia said. “More my sort of town, I think. Scottish people are so obstinate.”
“And hard to manipulate.”
“Careful, Opal. Someone might think you
actually care.”
“I care about my family.”
“So do I.”
“No. You only care to use them in order to get into the rooms you want to influence.”
“I can get into any damn room I want with one word,” snapped Portia. Opal closed her eyes. There it was. They were talking about it, facing it. Portia’s unspeakably dangerous power, her frightening gift of influence. “I don’t need your family to do it.”
“Then leave,” Opal said, finally looking at her friend.
“Did it ever occur to you, that when I saw your magic that day it made me feel less alone? That it made me feel like there was someone else with this huge power inside of them, someone else who knew how it felt?”
“It didn’t occur to me,” Opal said flatly, “because you don’t want anyone else to have any sort of
power, Portia.”
“You want to talk about power, Opal? You don’t
use yours.”
Opal leapt to her feet and ran at the lake. She heard Portia swear in surprise, but she kept running. As her feet began to slip and skid upon the ice, she vaulted.
And soared.
While her parents possessed no real magic, they had always supported the girls. But it was always to be a secret. Perhaps it was Scotland’s history that made them cautious. Whatever the reason, magic was a family matter and kept very private.
Opal did not care if anyone saw her fly. She needed it. She needed to leave the world behind and below, and be above it all.
When she landed, Portia was staring in amazement.
“You’re wasting your gifts,” Portia finally said softly. “And I can’t watch it anymore.”
“I don’t like what you did to that tourist all of those years ago, Sha,” Opal replied. “Years of fun and friendship don’t wipe it away. I think about it all the time.”
“You’ll want me around when they turn on you for being different,” Portia said calmly, turning to go. “Believe me.”
The witch watched the Siren leave and they would not meet again for years.
Chapter Twenty-THREE
Like a Curse
It all begins to map together for me.
Opal has been conserving her strength and locking herself away in Grandpa’s study because of Portia. She has been preparing a spell for Portia. She has not been punishing us or burying her head in the sand, none of the things I secretly thought. She was telling the truth. She had a plan.
It was never about me. It was never meant to be
my mission.
I watch Opal take a deep breath before the plunge. She opens her palms and closes her eyes, her face contorted in effort. It’s more exertion than I have ever seen her use. Portia starts to back away, eyeing my aunt with trepidation. “What are you doing?”
“It’s a curse,” I whisper.
“You can still surrender,” Opal gasps, containing the spell between her hands. It’s emerald green and it spits and flares, ready to be unleashed. Portia stares at it. She swallows and eyes the exit.
“Never,” she finally says.
Opal releases the curse. It hits the Siren with the power of a small explosion, knocking her fully to the floor. I cling to the tree and stare, breathing hard. Opal wipes at her eyes, looking concerned and also crushed. Portia eventually sits up, running her hands over herself as if she’s searching for a wound or cut.
“What have you done?” she finally demands.
“You will not die,” Opal says softly. “Not because
of this. You will not wither away. You’re not even injured. But I have cursed you, Sha. I have made
you unbelievable.”
I hear an intake of breath from Freddy and Portia frowns, not understanding.
