Page 41 of The Bairwick Witches
“Whatever you feel about Issac is separate. I think he lied to you, and you deal with that trifling twink however you see fit. But in the matter of that spell—you need to be a part of it. Whether the experience hurts or heals.”
Marshall grabbed his son and pulled him for a hug. And Schuyler hugged his father in a way he hadn’t since he was a kid.
Schuyler sat back. “I have feelings for Issac. I just don’t know what to do about any of them. Old me would have popped off on him. Every time I feel like I’m getting back to my old self, I realize, nope and I do something different, like with Cal.”
“Monkey, you keep talking about thegetting back to your old self. You ever stop to think maybe you left him behind for a reason.
“You could have destroyed human Ambien’s date-rapey ass, but you didn’t. You left him better than you found him. And as much as I wanna hoot and holla’ when one of us Croys pops off on someone, I respect how you handled that. You showed grace, in a world where that’s fleeting.
“Maybe it’s time to leave all that ‘old me would’ve done this’ shit behind. You aren’t him anymore. You’ve grown; you’re someone new. Someone we’re very proud of.”
Schuyler felt grateful for being so loved—two parents who both knew the right things to say. Though it happening at the same time was a rare occurrence; it was another oddity in an already surreal situation. Schuyler sat there feeling the echoes of other times, other ages, when they’d all sat together like this and worked their issues out. In light of everything, he was certain of one thing: those two were the loves of his life.
“If you do have feelings for this kid,” Beau added, “and you can forgive him, do it. My gut says avoid that spell, Monkey. It’ll be nothing but trouble.” He threw dagger eyes at Marshall, who shrugged them off.
“You always gonna be mad about somethin’, baby.” Marshall returned to his ice cream.
Beau was surprised when Schuyler gave him another hug, one rivaling Marshall’s. “I hope that helps.”
“I think it does.”
Schuyler thanked them again and excused himself to his bedroom. He went to sleep early, tired from the day, from the emotions double-penetrating him every minute they could. He resolved to see how he felt in the morning, but what Marshall said lingered. It would be a special kind of mental hell if the spell was successful and Schuyler wasn’t present.
What if Issac mishandled the spell?
What kind of repercussions could there be for him? For Dev? Would a mistake wake the Elders? Did Schuyler have a responsibility to ensure the spell was performed properly? More questions raised, some with tentative answers, but he would wait for the morning light to see if they held up.
Unsure of his place in the world, he curled up in bed questioning how the previous day had started like a porno, with three rounds of incredible sex, and then veered off into a melodrama, complete with semi-nervous breakdown. He’d felt like an old fool spurned by his lover—and also a young kid, lovingly comforted by his parents, all on the same day. Schuyler closed his eyes, knowing once he awoke, he’d know what to do.
Exceptthatwould soon prove to be utter bullshit.
Chapter Fifteen
Schuyler woke up, still confused and still unsure of what to do. He retreated to the Zen room and tried to find his center. When that failed to give him the results he sought, he went out into nature, into the woods, to a little spot in a clearing, where he would lay, joined by Earth spirits who helped to calm him as he lazily admired the perfect blue, cloudless sky.
When the time came for him to move, he rose, decision made. Assisting with the spell was the only way to ensure it was performed correctly. If there, he could jump in if needed and ensure Issac—or Dev, weren’t hurt in the process.
He could not avoid the truth in what Marshall had said as well. There were things left unsaid, and if the spell worked and Dev was revived, Schuyler needed—wanted—to be there. Otherwise, there would be questions hounding him forever.
Once back home, he checked his phone. Issac had respected his wishes the day before, but spent the morning sending numerous apologetic texts, urging him for a moment to talk. A request easily agreed to. One of Issac’s last texts inquired about discussing matters over tacos, and Schuyler knew a place.
The amber colored stucco walls of the cantina, Huesos Y Miel, were adorned with brightly painted murals of skeleton couples in different scenarios, decorated skulls, and flowers. The dining room centered around a small dance floor, which faced a stage on which a band of skeletons, whose bones were covered in colorful tattoos, performed slow, beautiful, and melodic songs. A bar ran the length of the cantina, at which both the living and the dead were bellied up to.
At one of the few wooden tables still available in front of the bar, Schuyler and Issac sat.
Issac appeared tired, but even the slight weariness in his features did little to diminish his handsomeness. A phantasma, glowing and wavering in blue ethereal light, with their ghostly visage painted to honor the day of the dead, took their order: a couple of beers with rice and tacos. When the phantasma waitress left, an order of breadsticks baked to resemble bones, with a honey dip, appeared on the table—the cantina’s namesake.
Issac spoke first, eager to start the conversation.
“I’m aware I’ve no clue what I’ve put you through the past couple of days. Dropping a bomb like that, considering your relationship with my uncle. I’m incredibly sorry. I wanted to avoid any hurt in that area, and my decisions only made a bigger mess, which is typical Issac, really.
“Which is something you should know if you’re not completely done with my ass.” He threw up his hands, and with the defeated expression he pulled, Schuyler could see he’d beat himself up over the topic, perhaps rightfully.
“I don’t know,” Schuyler responded honestly. “I get it’s weird, but this isn’t some silly misunderstanding. You lied tome. Hell, you offered up a fake name, when I didn’t even ask what your uncle’s name was in the first place. I respected your privacy.
“And I can’t help but feel like you did that to hide the truth, so I’d help you.”
Even in the midst of his emotional turmoil over their situation, Schuyler thought only of kissing him. There was sadness in the young man’s face, and even if self-induced Sky hated seeing it there, with those lips begging for attention.
