The Book of Spells (Private 0.50)

“All right, girls,” she said. “Let’s finish this.”

Hurt

Eliza stood in her black mourning dress, holding hands with Theresa, both of them still as stone. The sky was a blanket of dark gray clouds, and the air was thick with a humidity that seemed to mute every sound. Eliza stared at the gleaming brown wood of Catherine’s casket as it was carried by, feeling numb and exhausted. All her tears had been cried.

It had taken less than a day for the police search party to find Catherine in the woods. Hours of miserable anticipation that had felt like years to Eliza. But now it was over. She tried to take comfort in the fact that Catherine was going home.

“At least she’s at peace now,” Theresa whispered, squeezing Eliza’s fingers.

Eliza nodded mutely, her throat full of emotion. Theresa hadn’t left her side since the night of their pact. Theresa had spoken to Miss Almay, and had all of Eliza’s things—except for her bookshelf, as it reminded her too much of Catherine—moved into her private room on the top floor of Crenshaw. That way, Eliza would no longer have to live in the room she’d shared with Catherine—the room in which she had almost met her end. And now here they were, roommates, clinging to each other as if they were old friends.

“Thank you, Theresa,” Eliza whispered. “For everything.”

Theresa simply nodded, giving Eliza a small smile, before returning her attention to the proceedings.

The eight pallbearers loaded the casket into a hearse—a long, black carriage draped with dark purple swaths of fabric—for transportation to the train station and then on to the Whites’ farm in Georgia. All of the Billings and Easton community had turned out to pay their respects and say good-bye to Catherine—students, teachers, and staff alike.

Catherine’s father and mother had made the trip up to Connecticut to squire their only daughter home. They stoo

d across the dirt road, watching with red-rimmed eyes, as the pallbearers closed the solid black door on the back of the hearse. Catherine’s father’s hand rested on the shoulder of a small boy with blond hair, whose bottom lip had been quivering all morning. Eliza assumed this was Lincoln, Catherine’s younger brother. She could barely stand to look at him.

Finally, Miss Almay stepped forward to shake hands with the Whites and offer her condolences. The crowd along the side of the road stood in awkward silence for a moment before breaking up. Packs of boys turned their steps toward Easton’s campus, their hands in the pockets of their starched suits, their heads respectfully bowed. Alice’s sobs grew louder, and Eliza found she could stand it no longer.

“Excuse me, Theresa,” she said furtively, releasing her friend’s hand. “I need to be alone. Just for a moment.”

Before Theresa could respond, Eliza turned and walked toward the elm tree next to Crenshaw House, striding as fast as she could. She paused near the outer branches, unwilling to duck under the canopy and be alone in the secluded spot where she and Catherine had so recently been together. Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked up at the sky.

I just need a moment to myself, she thought. I just need a moment to breathe.

The other girls seemed to understand this. She saw them walking past her on their way into Crenshaw. Lavender and Clarissa shot her concerned looks, but no one stopped. Eliza breathed in and out, telling herself it was time to let Catherine go, time to let her guilt go, time to move on. She couldn’t go on feeling this weight in her chest. She simply could not live this way.

She just wished she could talk to Catherine one last time. She wished her friend could absolve her—tell her that it wasn’t her fault.

Her eyes fell on Harrison, and the moment he noticed her, his brow knit with concern. But Eliza couldn’t see him right now. She could not talk to him in this state. She covered her mouth to keep from crying and finally ducked under the thick branches of the elm.

Once inside the privacy of the leaves, Eliza walked over to the tree’s trunk, leaned against it, and cried. Her chest heaved as she bent her head forward, letting the rough bark cut into the skin of her forehead.

What had she been thinking? This guilt was never going to go away. Catherine was never going to come back and absolve her. Nothing was ever going to be right again. Nothing.

“Eliza.”

Whirling around at the sound of her name, Eliza saw Harrison slipping inside her sanctuary. She shook her head at the sight of him, not wanting him to see her like this.

“Eliza,” he said again, approaching her. “I’m so sorry about Catherine. I know how you must feel.”

“You don’t know anything,” Eliza heard herself say, her voice soaked with tears. She backed away from him, moving around the trunk of the tree. “You don’t know anything about me, Harrison.”

Still he came. He closed the gap between them quickly and pulled her into his arms.

“I know everything I need to know,” he said, holding her head against his chest. “And it’s okay to cry. I’m here.”

“I can’t,” Eliza said, sniffling. Her chest felt as if it was being crushed by the weight of ten thousand heavy heels. “I can’t.”

“Eliza, no matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you,” Harrison said, leaning back. He placed one finger beneath her chin and lifted her face to look into her eyes. “All I want is to be with you. I haven’t spoken to Theresa yet because of all that’s happened, but I will. I’ll make her understand.”

Eliza yanked herself away from Harrison’s grasp. “I can’t, Harrison.” She channeled every bit of frustration and misery and regret into the words. “I can’t be with you. You belong with Theresa. You should be with her now, not me. She needs you. Please, just go to her. Leave me alone.”

The look of hurt and confusion on his face was impossible for Eliza to bear. She had hurt Catherine. She had hurt Theresa. She had hurt all her sisters in the coven. And now she had hurt Harrison, too.