If Mona was insistent enough, she would get through. If anything, it would catch Polina’s attention. She had been grieving just as much as Prue, though in a different way. While Polina sought comfort from others, like her lover Sybil, Prue had withdrawn completely from everyone. This was her burden to bear, and hers alone.
It was her problem to fix. And she would do just that. Or die trying.
But Mona didn’t need to know that. She didn’t need to know just how far Prue was willing to go to get her back.
“It’s almost time now,” Mona said. “You should go prepare.”
Prue took one last long look at the rippling ocean waves, trying not to imagine this as her last time gazing at the sea. If this plan didn’t work, Prue would die.
And if it did work, she would be bound to the Underworld. She would likely never see her home again.
But it would be worth it. For Mona.
Tears clouded Prue’s eyes as she finally turned away from the ocean to gaze at her sister. “I miss you.”
Mona’s eyes turned soft. “I miss you, too. But don’t worry. We’ll see each other soon.”
Prue swallowed hard. Emotion clogged her throat, suffocating her. “Mona . . .”
Mona stared at her, waiting.
“I’m sorry.” Prue choked on the words that had been slicing through her ever since Mona had died. She had never been brave enough to say them, but she had to now. Just in case this didn’t work. “I’m sorry for not saving you.”
Mona’s form trembled slightly, and for one terrifying moment, Prue worried her sister would vanish right then and there. But gradually, the shimmering glow of her figure solidified, and Mona stretched out her hand. It passed right through Prue, making her shiver.
“I’ve already forgiven you,” Mona whispered. “I would do it all over again for you, Prue.”
Tears streamed down Prue’s face, her expression crumpling as the grief consumed her. Goddess, she missed her twin. So much that it tore through her, opening up a gaping wound in her chest that would never heal. It only festered and throbbed, burning more intensely each day.
“Good luck,” Mona said. She flashed a sad smile that was so familiar, so like Mona to reassure Prue even when all was lost. Then, she turned and faded into the trees. The palm fronds swayed in the breeze as the ghostly apparition dissolved from view.
Prue sank to her knees and wept, unable to hold it in any longer. She knew she needed to get to work, that she was running out of time. But she had held in her regret and anguish for so long that she had to unleash it, just a little bit. Otherwise, it would drown her.
When her sobs finally subsided and her shoulders stopped shaking, Prue wiped her eyes and rose to her feet. With a few deep breaths, her calm demeanor returned, and she squared her shoulders.
“This is it,” she told herself. “No turning back now. After today, Mona will be here and all will be right with the world again.”
With this comforting reminder, resolve coursed through her, and she strode down the path toward her house.
Thankfully, most of the coven was already in the town square preparing for the ceremony. This left Prue uninterrupted time to scour her mother’s cupboards for the proper spell ingredients.
It was just as well. She certainly didn’t want anyone witnessing her stealing her mother’s hemlock or nightshade. Such deadly ingredients would definitely warrant a few questions, and Prue didn’t have time to concoct a lie. She was nervous enough.
Unfortunately, as Prue was grabbing the last ingredient—fresh pomegranates from the garden—she heard a startled voice cry, “There you are!”
Shit. Prue forced a pleasant expression on her face and looked up, spotting her mother, Polina, approaching from the other side of the garden. Prue quickly shoved her sack of ingredients behind her, out of view of her mother, and used her forearm to wipe the sweat from her brow.
Polina’s blue eyes were wide and wild, her hair a frayed mass of brown around her face. “What are you doing here? We need you in the square!”
“I, uh . . .” Think, think, think! But all of Prue’s mental strength was channeled toward her task at hand. She had no room left for elaborate lies or excuses. It already took all her energies to bolster her courage to go through with this. Anything else, and she might explode from the pressure.
Prue inhaled shakily, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.
“Oh, my sweet child,” said another deeper voice.
Prue blinked and glanced up to find Sybil, Polina’s lover, joining them in the garden. Her soft eyes were sad as she took in Prue, who was kneeling in the flowers, the hem of her skirt stained with dirt.
“What?” Polina snapped, glancing between them as if she’d missed something.