CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

My research has given me a list of things I need to break the curse, but it's not until I get home that afternoon that I realise one fundamental item has been left off the list: an empty house. One devoid of Katherine or any other meddling council members.

I'm reminded of this as soon as I step through the door and see her home, seated at the dining table. She's an unavoidable, near-constant presence in the house. The only time she's not around is when I'm at school.

"You stayed back rather late," she says, putting down her book without so much as a hello. The table is a mess of paper and old books, and the air is rich with the smell of musty paper. I can't read any of the titles from here – not without being overt about it – but I can easily guess what she'd doing. I was doing the same thing not that much earlier today. "I was expecting to pick you up, but you never called. How did you get home?"

I register my mistake in a heartbeat. She almost always picks me up. I should have texted her to let her know I had other plans – even if such plans would have been an excuse for what I was really up to.

"I got the bus with friends."

"Friends?"

"Well, yeah. Sorta."

"I called you," she says. "Multiples times."

My phone is in my pocket. I dig it out to find a multitude of missed calls and messages. At least I don't have to lie about this. "I have to keep it on silent for school. I'm sorry, I forgot to check it."

She regards me warily, an expression that quickly melts into weariness. A moment later, Scott emerges from down the hall. "Were these the books you wanted?" he asks loudly. He stops short when he sees me, his respectable face faltering. Then he smiles and continues to the dining table, bypassing me with an armful of old, tattered books. I have no idea where he got them. There is no antique library in this house.

My own expression, I'm sure, is faltering too. He was at the athenaeum. He was on the phone. To Katherine, apparently, because now he's here. And I can't help but feel like I've been caught red-handed.

"What are you doing?" I ask the room, using the most nonchalant voice I can muster.

"Melissa, Scott is just here to do some work with me. It's nothing you need worry yourself with. And besides, with exams coming up, I'm sure you have a lot of homework to do, do you not?" The way she asks, with her eyes searing into mine, tells me this is not a question. This is a command.

"Yeah, heaps." It's not a lie.

She smiles. Scott just stares at me. He's sat down, hands clasped and resting on the table. They clearly have a lot to do themselves, judging by the mess. And they clearly don't want to do any of it while I'm around.

Messaged sent and received. "I'll be in my room," I say, and retreat somewhat angrily down the hall.

Two can play at this game.

-:-:-:-:-

The next day after Katherine drops me off at school, I call Harrison.

"Let me guess," he answers, "you need another favour."

"Am I that obvious?"

"Melissa," he laughs, "you only ever reach out to me when you need something. It's more than obvious."

"Now you're making me into the villain."

"Villainy is subjective. Just because I believe you're evil, doesn't mean you are."

"Good to know," I reply bitterly. But he's laughing. "I need a lift again."

"This afternoon?"

"Now."

"Some of us actually want to do well in school, you realise."

"You can do well tomorrow."

"Did you break the curse?" His voice changes at once from joking to sober. He already knows the answer to his question. His asking is a mere formality.

"No. That's actually why I need your help."

For a few drawn-out seconds, there's silence on the other end of the line. Then he says, "I'll be right there," and the line goes dead.

I'd made a show this morning of walking in through the gates as if headed to my locker, just in case Katherine happened to be watching. But now I've backtracked to the main entrance where I hover by the street. Students are still streaming in through the gates, their gossip buzzing through the air. Despite the bitter air, the day has the feeling of summer; light breezes, but an energy circulating in the atmosphere, a heady excitement perpetuated by the chatter of my peers. Maybe they're just talking about their weekends and upcoming exams, but it filters differently into my ears, morphing into a sort of end-of-term excitement. It takes me a moment to understand the feeling. It's not that the day feels like summer.

It's that it feels like the end.

Harrison turns up a good fifteen minutes later. By this point, the morning bell has rung and even the stragglers have made their way into the school. By contrast, the entrance, the sidewalk and the road all feel eerily desolate and overly quiet.

"Where to?" he asks as I hop into the passenger seat.

"My place."

"You're skipping school to go home?"

"Don't act so slow," I chide. If there's anything I've learnt about Harrison, it's that he's smart, but secretively so. The kind of smart that dumbs itself down for ordinary folk. "You know what I'm doing."

"You don't want your mum around when you break the curse."

I nod.

"I guess that explains all the sneaking around with me." The engine's still running, and he switches gears, ready to head off. I have no idea whether Katherine will be home or not. Best-case scenario: the house is empty and will remain so all day. Worse-case scenario: Katherine's invited the council over for a meeting or research club or whatever it is they do when I'm not invited.

When we pull up out front, her car isn't in the driveway. The place appears quiet and empty. Still, once can never be too cautious.

"You should go up and knock on the door," I instruct Harrison. "If she's home and answers, you can make up an excuse for coming by, something about your sister."

"Why don't you?"

"Isn't that obvious? Because I'm meant to be in school and if she sees me here, I'll not only get in trouble but be forced to give an explanation."

He nods. "Fair enough."

I watch from the car as he heads up the path to the house and knocks. After five minutes without any sign of life, he beckons for me to join him. I let us in with my keys. While Harrison waits for me in the lounge, I dump my school bag in my room and collect the stone from the bottom of my shirts drawer. It feels warmer then usual, but I'm sure it's just my imagination.

"Here it is," I say upon re-joining him. I hold the stone up in the air, pinched between my thumb and forefinger.

"The anchor?"

I place it on the coffee table and take a seat next to him on the couch. Opposite us, the fireplace gapes open, black and dusty from disuse.

"Do you know how to make a fire?" I ask him.

He laughs. "God, I may as well be a tool. You have wood and kindling, right?"

"It's in there."

"How long has it been in there?"

"It's always been in there."

He just shakes his head. "Fire Starters? Matches?"

"In the kitchen. I'll grab them."

I collect the supplies for Harrison and leave him to work his magic in the fireplace. Somehow I have to figure out what to say when breaking the curse. The book said I needed a 'statement of revocation', whatever that means. Will any old words do? Because I've got nothing else.

It doesn't take much time for Harrison to get the fire going and the room feels instantly warmer. I watch the flames for a bit as he tends to them, losing myself amongst the orange flickering. For a split-second, I'm transported back to Rand's funeral pyre and the feeling of finality that accompanied it, then Harrison backs off and my connection with the fire is disrupted.

When Harrison turns back around, I'm expecting to get straight to business but instead his features are shadowed. He's clearly been thinking, and a thought hovers over his face like a cloud.

"Melissa, why doesn't your mother want you to break it?" he asks, standing. I tense and press my lips firmly together, afraid that my thoughts might escape through my mouth. "I mean, if it's going to save someone's life, why would she–"

The thought-cloud is now a thought-thundercloud, dark and brooding. He's figured it out. He knows.

"What is this curse," he asks slowly, like he's afraid of the answer, "and what does it do?"

Like I said: smart.

"It's complicated, I–"

"What does it do?"

"It represses supernatural abilities."

"Who's?"

I keep my mouth shut. I'm trying for a poker face, but he reads me like a book.

"Not yours," he says definitively, the gears and cogs spinning in his mind fast enough to be visible. "Not your family's either. If it were theirs, they'd have no opposition to breaking the curse." He pauses. "An enemy, then."

"Harrison–"

"The same enemy who's threatening someone you care for, holding them for ransom. Someone dangerous enough to be considered a legitimate threat." He meets my eyes in both awe and dread. "What happens," he asks, for the second time in an as many days, "once you've broken this curse?"

I shouldn't say it, but he knows enough now anyway. I could stay silent for ever and he'd still have his answer. I shouldn't say it, but I do.

"War."