“What’s the point of the creepy doll, again?” he asked.
“It’s a simulacrum,” Viv said. “To make our own shadow selves—controlled ones—that can bring the shadow thing here and fight it, we’re supposed to… touch the doll and tell it something true about ourselves.”
“Something unpleasant,” Micah added. “I mean, the truth is, sometimes.”
“Not always.” Sasha gestured to Viv and Micah. “I can say lots of true things about both of you that are pleasant as fuck.”
“Yeah, but this is a shadow,” Micah said. “Shadows are for things we’d rather hide.”
They all looked at the doll in silence. Viv wondered how her mother had done it.Whenshe’d done it. She knew the headman had turned her away, and it wasn’t like her husband supported her. She’d probably cast the spell alone. With no one who could keep her honest, or protect her, or care if it all went wrong.
Then she’d left Viv to fend for herself. She hadn’t warned her. She hadn’t prepared her. Viv had to figure everything out on her own.
But not anymore.
Micah picked up the doll, and Sasha gathered the candles in their stone holders. Viv pocketed bags of salt—a last resort, in case Micah’s spell failed and they had to make a run for it. Then they climbed the steps to the door and went outside.
It was a windy night. The trees in the woods beyond the field creaked and groaned, and the sound of their branches rustling made Viv think of the sea, waves rising and falling as they beat against the shore. Sasha looked around as if he was expecting the thing to already be there, then set the candles down in a line a few paces away.
Micah lit the candles. They sputtered and flickered but didn’t go out, and Viv shivered as Micah set the faceless doll on the grass in front of them. Beyond the candles, just a few paces away, was the spell-door. “Remember,” he said. “Tell it the truth.”
“I don’t have magic, though,” Sasha said. “You’re sure I should be part of this, boss?”
“Yeah. It’ll work as long as one of us goes first.”
Sasha didn’t look so certain. He kept looking toward the magical barrier, and Viv pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. If this didn’t work, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. She couldn’t let that thing keep her from going out at night. It couldn’t paw at the door every time she fell sick. But she felt like Sasha had been right—maybe it needed something Viv couldn’t provide.
It was no good dwelling on what might happen, though. Viv went to Micah, who was watching the doll, and urged him around to face her. “Can’t stop thinking, either, can you?”
“Not a chance,” Micah said, smiling as she wrapped her arms around his neck. His smile disappeared quickly, but it remained in the way he took her waist in his hands, rocking as though they were dancing. He looked like he was humming, but Viv could only hear the whistle of the wind and the roar of the trees.
“We should get married both ways, I think,” he said. “Sasha can offer to punch people—even if I’m still not sure about that—and we can have rings, and then we can go to Dragan and make our vows.”
“According to your rules, you should’ve done that when you kissed us the first time,” Viv pointed out.
Micah shrugged. “We’re witches. We make our own rules.” He leaned down for a kiss, as if to punctuate the sentiment. “I know it’s weird, because there’s a thing out there that wants to kill you, and we’re about to do this ritual we’ve never tried before, but I’m happy. I’m glad to be here with you, Viv.”
“And I’m glad you’re here, Micah.”
“Micah Black,” he said, and Viv raised her brows as Sasha turned from his vigil by the door. “I’m still Fire-Keeper in the village. It was my great-grandmother’s name, and I’ll always cherish it. But I’m here, too, and with you… with both of you… I think I’d like to be a Black.”
“Nan’s gonna cry,” Sasha said, and Viv squeaked as he crushed them both in his massive embrace. Micah looked at her from where his face was pressed to Sasha’s chest, and they all laughed.
Then they heard the voice.
“Vivian?”
Viv shivered. Sasha let her down, and she smoothed out her hair, bracing herself for the contorted, inhuman creature—only to see her mother standing on the other side of the magical door, one hand on the barrier.
She wasn’t the shadow. She didn’t move like it, too fluid or too jerky by degrees, and her face wasn’t smooth and unwrinkled. When she opened her mouth to speak, there wasn’t a black pit inside, and her eyes were sad, wary.
“Mom.”
“This is a powerful spell,” her mother said, running her hand over the barrier. “I doubt I could force my way in.”
“What are you… What are you doing here?”
Sasha shifted on his feet. “Viv. Babe. I asked her.” Viv whirled on him, hurt stinging in her chest, and Sasha took her hands. “I know you’re mad. I’m sorry. I knew we needed her help, and I knew she would just hurt you if you went to her. So I went.”
