You think for a moment before turning to Cassie, dabbing your finger in the last of the donut frosting. “Can you give us a minute?” you say apologetically. Cassie doesn’t look happy, but she musters up enough of a shrug to show she’s accepting the situation.
“Sure,” she says. “I need to use the bathroom anyway.” She leaves your side and walks over to the counter, although her eyes remain hooked on Niamh as she heads off. It’s uncomfortable for all three of you, particularly as Cassie knows your history with exes – although your time with Lisa feels like an eon ago.
“So,” you say, beckoning Niamh to take a seat. “How’d you find me?”
“Remembered you like donuts,” she says weakly, sliding into the booth, looking at you from across the table. It’s surreal; you recall the first time you went for donuts, only you were Niamh, and Will was a golem. “Wasn’t expecting you to have company. Sorry if I’m interrupting.”
“You are,” you state with a complete lack of warmth. “So get to the point. You solve the problem?”
Niamh glances down at the table for a moment, thinking about her reply. “Which one?”
You grit your teeth. “Piss off, Niamh,” you say. “I know you only think I was pretending to care about her, but everything I did was to try and save her. You know that.”
Niamh’s breath judders out of her body, her voice quiet. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to– I rehearsed this a thousand times in my head and the words still came out wrong. I know you care about her, and it was wrong of me to ever say otherwise. This is really hard for me, Will. I came here to apologize, not to fight.”
You lean across the table. “Hard for you? I left her alone and she turned herself to fucking stone, Niamh. She’s dead because of me. The only way I get through the day is putting that out of my head.” You stare up at the ceiling, its white tiles with the odd brown stain where someone’s thrown teabags against it. “It’s why I was happy for you to take the lead, just surrender everything over to you. I was figuring that, maybe… I don’t know. Maybe you’d find the answers to rescue Shelly where I couldn’t.”
Niamh nods quietly. “I’m sorry, Will. About everything. I don’t know how to deal with this. It’s not a situation I ever imagined I’d find myself in.”
“Nor me,” you say, pushing the finished donuts to one side. “Though for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I used the mask to impersonate Mariah. I didn’t know how much that would matter to you. I guess after we were Chris and Abi I thought anyone was fair game.”
“It wasn’t easy seeing you as Mariah,” she admits, looking up to make eye contact with mournful blue eyes already beginning to film with tears. “I guess it just set something off that day.” There’s an awkward laugh, a sort of timid chuckle that you’ve never heard her make before. “What did you do with the mask?”
“Exactly what you asked. I took every single one of them and buried ‘em in the woods.” You glance out into the dark of Saratoga Falls through the window, of the streetlights burning in the dark night and the rainbow of Christmas lights. A few doors down, Nirdlinger’s has already got its display out. “Look, Niamh, what do you want? You said this was important, right?”
“It is,” she says. “I just wanted to get the apology out of the way first. I was wrong. About everything. And I don’t know if I can solve the book without you. There’s just so much I don’t understand. I was hoping you’d come back on board our project.”
“I thought you were going to find out all about its secrets in England.”
“That was a bust,” she admits. “Besides, I kept the book in our hideout at St. Xavier’s, didn’t even bring it over, just took pictures. C’mon, Will. I know you miss it. You can’t find out–” she glances around to make sure everyone’s out of earshot, “you can’t find out magic exists and then forget about it.”
“I don’t know, Niamh,” you say. “You were right about one thing. As much as I got my kicks, all that book did was bring misery into my life. Maybe I’m better off pretending it was just a dream. I doubt it’ll bring…” You can barely bring yourself to say Shelly’s name. “I doubt it’ll bring her back. I don’t know how to get past the ripped page, and you’re smarter than I am.”
“We’re smarter together. And if you won’t do it for me…” she looks you deep, unflinchingly, in the eyes. “At least do it for Shelly?”
From the corner of your eye, you spy Cassie returning the bathroom key to the counter assistant. “I need to think about it,” you say finally. “Maybe unblock me. I’ll let you know what I decide.” You give Cassie a smile as she walks over to you, and reach out your hand, closing your fingers around hers. She flinches for a moment out of surprise, before she reciprocates tightly. “I’ll see you around, Niamh.”
The blonde girl gives a nod. “All right, Will,” she says with a half-smile. “Let me know.” For the briefest moment you’re worried that you’re going to have to walk out of Partytown Donuts together, but she has the good grace to go up to the counter and place an order. Instead, you walk Cassie out to your truck.
“Are you OK?” she asks, squeezing your hand a little. “That looked pretty awkward. I guess encounters with exes tend to be, like when you see Lisa at school.”
“I’m fine,” you say to her, straightening the fitted cap on your head. “It wasn’t that kind of chat. We just both know someone who died.”
“Oh no!” Cassie says, her genuine sympathy automatically endearing. “That’s horrible. Was it Taylor Mitchell, dying in that car crash a few months back? I feel so bad for Sean. I don’t know if I could deal with it if something happened to my brother.”
“You just feel helpless,” you say. “Responsible.”
“But you’re not responsible,” Cassie says, bumping her arm into yours as you arrive at the truck. “It’s just something your brain tells you when tragedy strikes. You can’t help who gets sick and who doesn’t, or who gets hit by a car.”
“I know,” you say, unlocking the cab and holding the door for her. You suck in a deep breath of chill November air. “Sorry, you don’t need me dwelling on stuff like that. And this night isn’t about Niamh or her friend – it’s about you. So where do you want to go?”
***
The conversation with Niamh bugs you. It tickles the back of your mind throughout the rest of the evening, and when you notice that AerisLives777 has unblocked you on chat and sent a message, you find yourself hovering the mouse cursor over it for a full minute before deciding that it’s best to leave her waiting. You're still unsure, and isn't indecision the most Will Prescott of traits?
By morning, you've more or less resolved to help Niamh when you arrive at Westside, ready for another day of tedium. If you’re honest with yourself, the past two months have been the only time in life you’ve had a purpose and a direction, and being severed from magic doesn’t feel liberating – it feels like something has quenched a fire within. You miss the Libra, and the masks, and the thrill of stepping into the lives of someone else. But even more, you miss the sense of connection to the world it brought – a resonance with some invisible guide that just made everything seem so right.
And, as you see a familiar crop of orange hair drift down the corridor, you know where the path back to magic begins: you just walk up and talk to your golem, currently masquerading as Michelle Nolan. That way you'll at least know what Niamh's been doing for the past few weeks. Then again, wasn't keeping secrets from her one of the reasons you broke up in the first place? Maybe you should leave the golem to continue its life on autopilot, and just call Niamh directly.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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