Waking up on February 1st was a strange feeling. For so long, the date had been burning in the back of Quinn's mind, a constant source of anxiety—now that it had arrived, glaring up at them from their phone screen, all they felt was a helpless sort of resignation as it set in that they were truly not going to find a way to send Vincent over, not when there were less than twenty-four hours left.

In light of... well, everything, Valerie and Quinn had unanimously agreed to skip class that day. They were biding their time at the Sugar & Spice instead, Valerie practically vibrating out of her seat after three cups of coffee while Quinn half-heartedly sipped their hot chocolate.

"Today feels weird," Rhia announced as she plopped down next to Valerie on the worn-down couch. She was working, but there was a slight lull in patrons that allowed her to sit down for a moment. "Like there's an incoming thunderstorm, or something, and all that's left to do is wait until the thunder breaks."

Valerie hummed in agreement, offering Rhia a bite from her chocolate brownie before she said, "Last time it felt like this was on Samhain. Let's hope this time goes better, huh?"

Quinn knew she was trying to make them laugh, but they could barely muster a tired smile. "I don't think any of them are going to want to possess us. They've been here long enough."

"How are you feeling?" Rhia rested her chin in her hand as she studied Quinn from across the table. "Are you nervous about the ritual?"

"A bit," Quinn admitted. "I've never even said a proper spell. I don't want to mess it up."

"You'll do great," Valerie reassured them. "And we'll all be there. You won't be alone."

The fact that all the Greenbrooks were going to help was at least somewhat of a comfort. The ritual had been written by a witch from their family, after all. It also felt very much like the way they practiced; from what Quinn had gathered, it had to do with cleansing herbs and setting intentions and meditating while channeling the deceased's energy through their artifacts. None of them were things that Quinn was familiar with or would have intuitively been drawn to, but it had sounded easy enough on paper.

"Will Luis be there as well?" Rhia asked.

"Probably. If—if that's okay with your family, I mean. I know they're very secretive about the whole thing, so—"

"Oh, please. He already dug up a grave with us. I think he's earned our trust." Rhia's earrings—today, they were tiny snails—swung as she laughed. "And besides, this is your ritual. We'll be there for support and guidance, not to supervise or dictate."

Quinn's smile came a little bit easier this time. "Thank God. I don't think I could have kept him from coming even if I—"

They were interrupted by the buzzing of their phone, jarringly loud against the wooden tabletop. Quinn turned it over, expecting the caller to be their mom; that year, February 1st was also the beginning of the Lunar New Year, and while their mom didn't pay much mind to most Chinese holidays, she usually remembered that one.

Instead, they found an unknown number flashing on the screen. With a sudden hunch and a desperate hope they were right, Quinn shot to their feet and rushed outside, ignoring Valerie's confused noise.

"Hello?" they panted into their phone as soon as the door fell shut behind them, muffling the chatter and noise of the café.

"Hello," a soft, faintly accented voice sounded from the other end of the line. "Am I speaking to Quinn?"

Clutching the phone in a white-knuckled grip, Quinn leaned back against the wall for support. "Yeah. Grandma, is that you?"

"Yes. I got your call."

"My call? I... I didn't call you."

"The call of your magick," their grandmother clarified. Quinn wasn't sure, but they thought they could hear a smile in her voice. "I heard it loud and clear when I went down to the river today. Quite a voice you have there."

Stunned, Quinn blinked at the storefront across the street. They couldn't believe it had worked—that their magick had really spanned halfway across the world and reached their grandmother.

"I apologize for not seeing your other message earlier," she added when Quinn didn't say anything. "I'm afraid I don't use my phone too much these days."

Quinn inhaled shakily. There were a thousand things they wanted to ask, all those questions they'd prepared for the off chance that their grandma would ever respond to their text, but somehow the only thing that came out was a quiet, "Why did you never tell me?"

"I didn't know," the old woman honestly responded. "You must believe me when I say this. Had I known that you had abilities, I would have taught you. You know, when you came to visit, all of us were watching you, trying to elicit any kind of magickal response from you, to see if you were one of us. I remember seeing you sitting by the river once—you were so small, yet you were sitting so very still, as if you were listening to what it was saying. Then I asked you if you wanted to go for a swim, and you cried."

She chuckled softly, a sound like water flowing gently over stones. "As you grew older, I tried again and again to subtly get an answer out of your mother, but she never said anything that would have hinted at magickal potential. And at some point, I just... stopped."

"Why?"

"Well, for one, it is quite unusual for magickal talents to go unnoticed that far into the teenage years," she said. "And on the other, I didn't want to upset your mother."

"Why would she have been upset?"

"She... I think she felt very hurt that I showed so much interest in you, but not in her," their grandmother said. Her voice, although quiet, held so much regret that even Quinn could hear it. "Of course I had never intended it to be that way. But we've always had a bit of a... strained relationship, as I'm sure she's told you many times."

"What, because she isn't a witch?" Quinn asked, surprised by how sharp their tone was. "Is that it? Because she didn't have any magickal abilities, she wasn't worthy of your time, and so neither was I?"

For a few agonizing seconds, the line was deadly quiet. Quinn was about to open their mouth and apologize, take the words back somehow, when their grandmother finally said, "I understand why you might feel that way, Quinn. But I need you to know that it had nothing to do with you. Your mother always felt like the black sheep of the family. Jun didn't seem bothered by it, but Ying Yue could sense that there were secrets I kept from her and that there was something that connected me and my family that she was not included in. And then, Jun died..."

Her voice faltered slightly. "And I simply could not stay in America. I went back to Nanjing, back to where I could let my magick flow freely in the circle of my sisters, and... I tried to make it clear to her that she had a place with me in China, but it was no use. In the end, I still ended up abandoning her. Not intentionally. Not suddenly. But gradually, the way the tide recedes one minute at a time, until you look and it's suddenly gone. I never meant for it to happen, or for it to drive a wedge between you and me as well. But it did. And for that, I am sorry."

Both of them were quiet for a long moment—their grandmother because she had said everything she could say, and Quinn because they didn't know how they felt about any of it.

Finally, their grandma said, "I know it hurts, Quinn. I do not expect you to forgive me right away. But maybe you can let me make it up. When I received your message, you sounded quite... distraught. Is there anything you need help with?"

"Yeah." Quinn shook their head to pull themself together. "Yes. There is... a pretty big something. Before I get into it: can anyone from our family see ghosts?"

"Yes," came the immediate answer. Quinn was pretty sure their heart almost stopped. "My sister was a Qiáo."

"A Qiáo?" Quinn echoed. The word made the back of their neck tingle. "What does that mean?"

"It means Bridge," the old woman clarified. "What do you call it?"

Aside from Human Ouija Board, which Luis had coined, Quinn had never tried to find a name for it. "Nothing. Until recently, I thought I was the only person who could do it."

"Oh, sweetheart, no," their grandmother laughed. Quinn thought that they maybe should be a little offended, but the sound was so warm that they couldn't bring themself to. "Your kind is rare, yes, but you are certainly not the only one. It is an immensely valuable power given only to very special people. Do you know why we call you Qiáo?"

"Because we're constantly stuck between two worlds?"

"It can certainly feel that way," their grandmother patiently agreed. "But it's not just that. You provide a form of connection that is unbelievably valuable. Not just between humans and spirits, but also between the in between and the beyond. You are the only kind of witch who can enter the liminal space in which the lost souls reside, Quinn."

"Enter it?" Quinn echoed. They weren't sure whether the chill running down their spine was pleasant or a product of fear.

"Yes. Other witches have to wait for Samhain, but you... You can lift the veils that separate the worlds any time you wish."

"Wait," Quinn ran a hand over their face, pinching the bridge of their nose as they tried to get their thoughts straight. "There are several veils?"

"Correct. One between here and in between, and one between the in-between and the beyond. The former is very thin, which is why you can see through it at all times, even without fully entering the space behind it. The second is a bit heavier—it requires a ritual to open."

By now, Quinn's heart was pounding in their throat. Sinking down on the front steps of the café, they asked, "Are you familiar with the ritual?"

"Yes. I assisted my sister a few times. Do you want me to explain it to you?"

"Please," Quinn breathed.

"All right. You'll require a few utensils—"

"Let me guess. An object that belonged to the deceased?"

"What? No. Where'd you get that from?"

Quinn faltered. "There's this family of witches I know, and they... They don't have any Messengers or Qiáo in their family, but they had a banishing ritual—"

"Oh, no. No, no, no, that is much too complicated. You don't need any of that nonsense. Material possessions are suitable for channeling a spirit's energy, but they are not what keeps them here."

"But then what does?"

"Feelings," their grandmother replied. "Those intense emotions that only the living know—the kind that lingers in our very bones even after we're dead, the kind that is so deeply rooted in us it becomes a part of our spirit's fabric. Love, hatred, fear—these are the things that stay with us. With time, we learn to accept them and they lose their hold on us. But if we die before we had the chance to process them, before that wound can ever begin to heal, they are what binds the spirit even after death."

Resting their head against the cold brick at their back, Quinn stared up at the grey sky. What their grandmother said made sense. Unlike the Greenbrook's words, which had been calming but never fully satisfying, hers rang true in a way that resounded through Quinn's entire body. Briefly, they wondered if Valerie had felt the same thing when she had read her family's Book of Shadows for the first time; that sense of learning something and finding you'd felt it all along, a knowledge so visceral it had to sit all the way down in your marrow.

"Okay," they finally said. "If not any of their possessions, what do I need?"

"Oh, it's quite simple. All you will need are the instruments necessary to cast a circle and an athame."

"An athame," Quinn numbly repeated, flashing back to a display at Obscura. "Those are ritual knives, right?"

"Correct. Do you have one?"

"No, but I... I can definitely get my hands on one." Quinn let out a disbelieving laugh, their hands shaking so bad they almost dropped their phone. "That's it? Nothing else?"

"Well, a body of water would certainly be helpful," their grandmother said. "But other than that, no."

Quinn couldn't believe it. All this time, they'd been running after artifacts when it was so simple. All this time, they'd thought Vincent was doomed when he wasn't. Fuck. He wasn't. "What do I need to do?"

There was some rustling on the other end of the line as their grandmother presumably flipped through a Book of Shadows. "First, you will need to cast a circle for protection. Then, you must step behind the first veil—there is a spell here that I will send you in a moment. Once you have joined the spirits in the in-between, you will know what to do."

"What? No, I won't," Quinn objected.

"Yes, you will," their grandmother calmly said. "My sister didn't make any specifications other than the need for an athame. Trust your instincts, Quinn. Your magick will guide you."

Quinn wasn't fully convinced, but they could tell there was no arguing with their grandmother on this. "Anything else I should know?"

"Mh... Take someone you trust into the circle with you. Chances are, you might need someone to ground you—it would be very unfortunate if you were to get stuck in the in-between yourself."

"Right," Quinn said. To say that they were overwhelmed would have been the understatement of the century. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

"It is the least I can do. Good luck with your ritual, Quinn. Oh, and... say hello to your mother from me."

"I think you should do that yourself," Quinn said, not unkindly. "Happy new year, Grandma."

And they hung up.

***

Fifteen minutes later, Quinn stood in front of Obscura. Valerie had offered to come with them after they were finished explaining the change of plans to her and Rhia, but Quinn felt like they needed to do it alone.

In a way, this was where it had all started. All those months ago, when Quinn had first come to Oakriver to visit the college and get a feeling for the town, the dark storefront had been the first to draw them in. They hadn't understood their fascination with it then, the pleasant prickle at the back of their neck as they'd walked between the shelves and breathed in the then unfamiliar scent of sage and candlewax.

Sylvie, the owner of the shop, had been the one to explain to them that there were witches and that, if Quinn was able to sense the shop, it was likely that they were one of them. They'd vehemently denied it even while taking the job offer, refusing their abilities for months while sitting between cauldrons and crystals. If there had ever been a textbook example for cognitive dissonance, Quinn was sure it would have their picture next to it.

Walking back into the shop now was like stepping back into that August afternoon. Sylvie was standing in front of the counter Quinn had spent so many hours sitting behind, looking just like she had then; her long, silver hair pinned into a messy updo that somehow took away none of her easy grace, the air around her humming with magick as all around her, books and candles floated about and sorted themselves onto the shelves.

Upon Quinn's entrance, she turned her head, the objects abruptly stilling in the air. "Quinn!" she exclaimed. "I haven't seen you around in so long!"

"Hi." Quinn awkwardly took a few steps into the shop. Behind them, the door fell shut, leaving them in the comforting gloom they were used to. "Am—Am I interrupting you?"

"Oh, I'm just doing some shelving," Sylvie said, quickly directing the last of the stock into its appointed places before she sat down on the edge of the counter, patting the space next to her. "Come here! Let me have a look at you."

Quinn obediently crossed the room and perched next to her. "I wasn't sure if you'd want me to come here after I quit," they admitted. "I know it was really abrupt. I'm sorry about that."

Sylvie sighed, the bracelets on her arm jingling as she gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "There's no need to apologize, darling. I could tell that you weren't happy here."

"I wasn't. But... it wasn't because of the shop. O-or you."

"I know." Sylvie gave them a knowing look. "You had some inner work to do. But it seems like it turned out all right, didn't it? You look better than when I last saw you."

"I feel better, too," Quinn agreed. They only realized how true it was now that they spoke it out loud. "I feel more like myself than I have in months. Maybe even years."

When they glanced at Sylvie, she was studying them in that intense way she sometimes did. She had a way of seeing right to the marrow of people; Quinn had witnessed several instances in which she'd seen a customer walk in and immediately known what they were there for. A few months ago, being looked at this closely by her had made their skin crawl. Now, they met her gaze, knowing that they had nothing to hide—neither from her, nor from themself.

"Well, what has brought you in, then?" Sylvie eventually asked. "Surely you didn't just want to see me?"

"I did want to see you," Quinn said. "But I also need an athame."

"Oh?" Sylvie raised an eyebrow as she got to her feet. "Planning a ritual?"

Quinn trailed after her, neatly avoiding stepping on her long, lavender skirt. "Yeah. My first one."

"And this is your first athame, isn't it?"

Quinn nodded.

"My gosh, how exciting." Sylvie clapped her hands, coming to a halt in front of the display that held the ritual knives. "Pick one out, then. If you choose carefully, you might never need to buy another one. I, for one, have only ever used one athame my entire life."

"So no pressure then," Quinn murmured and took a step closer.

Several daggers of different sizes and materials glinted against the dark velvet they were resting on. Some were menacing, almost as long as Quinn's forearm; others were small and handy, with dull blades that emphasized their ritualistic purpose.

In the end, the choice wasn't very difficult at all. Quinn's eyes were drawn to it almost instantly, and a moment later, they were reaching for it and carrying it towards the register. The athame was one of the smallest of the bunch, made from light wood, intricate carvings circling all around the hilt and up the blade. They looked like waves, foaming and ferocious. Looking at them reminded Quinn of the design on the jacket Luis had given them.

Sylvie gave an approving nod when they presented it to her. She didn't touch it—she mumbled something about not wanting to interfere with the energetic flow between Quinn and the dagger—but she did give them a dark blue velvet pouch they could carry it in.

"Good luck with your ritual tonight," she said as she handed Quinn the change. "And have a blessed Imbolc."

"You too."

They were about to turn around when Sylvie said, "It hasn't been the same without you around here, you know? The new girl I hired is lovely, but she only works a few hours a week. Not to mention she has a rather... fiery temperament." Wrinkling her nose, she looked pointedly at a faint scorch mark on the floorboards that Quinn was sure hadn't been there a few months ago. "Not ideal for customer service."

"I could fill in sometimes," Quinn said without thinking twice about it. "I'm... pretty good with fire."

Sylvie's entire face brightened at that. "I'm sure you are," she said, an amused smile flickering over her face. "Do your former hours still work?"

Quinn nodded quickly. They hadn't realized how much they'd missed the shop until they'd entered—the thought of simply walking out had felt wrong, somehow. This, Sylvie smiling at them while she noted something in the little calendar she always kept behind the counter, felt so much better.

As they stepped back into the sunny afternoon, holding their athame to their chest, Quinn felt something unfamiliar unfurling behind their ribs: a hope so bright that it, for the first time in days, made their heart pound with possibility.