Path of Night Read online

Harvey was only wearing a gray T-shirt, because he’d covered Elspeth with his flannel shirt. He was singing to a ghost, with my aunt stirring her cauldron in time. This was the guy who could never understand my magical world?

  Elspeth shifted and yawned. Harvey glanced at her, then over his shoulder at Aunt Hilda, melody dying on his lips.

  I cleared my throat and picked up the thread of the song. Harvey’s head turned. When he saw me, he smiled. I danced into the kitchen, still singing, waving my hands about.

  Harvey’s teeth skated over his lower lip, not quite biting, then his voice hesitantly joined mine. Elspeth waved her hands around, imitating me. Aunt Hilda was already spinning around the kitchen floor with her wooden spoon. I joined Aunt Hilda, dancing as we used to when I was happy and Ambrose was here. Lavinia peered shyly from behind Harvey’s legs. Harvey took her little hand and twirled her. Harvey and I were singing together properly now, heads thrown back. He shuffled, always awkward about dancing, which I’d always found impossibly endearing. He twirled Aunt Hilda, and Aunt Hilda whooped with glee. He reached out for me and I moved toward him, into the circle of his arm, my face tipped up to his.

  Harvey went pale. He stopped singing.

  “I …” he said. “I’d better go.”

  He bolted out of the house without a backward glance. I walked slowly to my room.

  I’d forgotten, after the misery of Tommy’s death, how happy Harvey used to make me. I’d forgotten that when Harvey said he loved me, I danced all the way up my stairs.

  The daughter of the devil and a mortal woman seduced by magic. I was a battlefield of two worlds. I was hell and earth, with not a bit of heaven in me.

  But there was heaven in him.

  “You turned your back on heaven,” said the bird wheeling around my head. “For what? Because you were hot for a little hell?”

  “Stop. That isn’t what Nick was. Nick loved me. He proved it.”

  “He loved you, and suffered,” said another bird. “Your mortal boy loved you, and suffered. Don’t you see what a monster you are? You use them like toys. If the mortal’s heartbroken, you pick up with the warlock. If the warlock’s damned to hell, the mortal might be amusing again. It’s not about which boy you love. You can’t love anyone. You only ruin them.”

  I ran, not downstairs but to Ambrose’s room. I always went to my cousin when I was in trouble. I threw myself down on Ambrose’s bed and buried my face in his pillow.

  “If you ever cared about anybody,” sang the birds, “save the mortals. Give up your quest. Or everyone will see you are your father’s daughter. We will know where you belong.”

  Suddenly my arm burned, and I remembered the communication spell Ambrose had taught me before he left. I sobbed as I slid my sleeve up, waiting to see what new disaster had occurred. My cousin might be in trouble.

  My sob caught in my throat.

  Across seas and miles, across my skin in purple script, Ambrose wrote: Hey, cousin. I love you.

  I started to smile as I traced the words. Salem purred.

  “I am where I belong,” I told the silver flock. “I’m Sabrina Spellman. And I never give up on anyone I love.”

  Harvey could sing at his brother’s grave. Nobody was watching him there. He sang the lullaby their mother used to sing, hoping their mother’s song would help Tommy rest in peace. Tommy had been disturbed enough.

  His song dying away in the dawn air, he told Tommy about the past few days.

  “I guess I ran out of Sabrina’s house because I was embarrassed,” he confided, tracing his brother’s name on the stone. “I can’t really dance, not the way … some people can. And … I can’t do anything I wouldn’t want Roz to see.”

  He wanted to do his best for Roz always. So he’d sing, with the weight of her eyes on him. Somehow.

  Harvey leaned against the gravestone as he used to lean on his brother.

  “Bye, Tommy. I’ll come back soon. I still love you. And I’m still sorry.”

  When he left the churchyard, he found the little ghost waiting outside the gate. He hadn’t realized they could wander so far from the Spellman house.

  “You were singing to someone dead,” she whispered as he swung her up into his arms.

  “Yeah,” said Harvey. “My brother.”

  Lavinia sighed. “He must be glad of you.”

  “How … do you know?”

  If she could talk to Tommy, if Tommy could talk to her. If he could only tell his brother how sorry he was. Harvey’s heart beat too hard at the thought, in hope and terror.

  “I’m dead, and I’m glad of you.”

  Harvey kissed her curly hair. “Thanks, my small sweetheart.”

  Now that Harvey was used to the ghost, he thought she was really cute. He’d been stupid to be scared.

  He dropped Lavinia off in front of the Spellman house, deciding not to go inside. He’d visited a lot lately and didn’t want to intrude.

  As he passed the curve in the road, he saw a flicker of movement among the trees. It was the pale flutter of a girl’s gown.

  “Lavinia?”

  “Carry me!”

  Harvey smiled. He carried her back to the Spellmans’, set her down, and retraced his steps.

  Every time he reached the curve in the road, she was there, lifting her arms imperiously. Kids enjoyed playing games. He carried her back more than a dozen times.

  Finally she wasn’t there. He rounded the curve in the road and saw the demons. They lay in heaps, not smoky like Roz’s demons or winged like Theo’s. These were misshapen lumps covered in eyes. Even their elbows had eyeballs set in the curves. The only place the awful creatures didn’t have eyeballs were in the gaping wounds. Something had ripped all these demons’ throats out. Or someone.

  Harvey ran back to the Spellmans’, kneeling on the porch where the child waited. She yawned with bloodstained teeth. “I’m tired now.”

  “Thank you,” Harvey whispered. “Why are you helping us?”

  She touched his hair. “You could have got cross and said you wouldn’t carry me.” Her voice was fainter than wind. “But you didn’t.”

  She dissolved before he could say of course he hadn’t. It wasn’t much, to carry someone.

  After Nick made his sacrifice, Harvey had carried Nick down to the gates of hell. It wasn’t easy like carrying Lavinia. It was very rough going. Nick wasn’t as tall as Harvey, but he wasn’t short either. Harvey was badly worried he might drop Nick. At certain moments, Harvey thought with exasperation that it’d help if Nick Scratch worked out less.

  Harvey was grateful he had to concentrate on holding on to Nick, so he wouldn’t think about where they were going. Sabrina was at the head of their group, shining like a golden torch. He fixed his eyes on her, and followed.

  Nick’s dark head lolled against his shoulder. Harvey’d stopped several times, to carefully adjust position so Nick would be protected. It probably wouldn’t matter if Nick’s head hit the wall, not where he was going—but Harvey didn’t want Nick to get hurt. He felt responsible.

  At the gates of hell, the demon Lilith turned and swept Nick away.

  Harvey let Nick go. Sabrina obviously regretted letting Lilith take him, but this wasn’t only Sabrina’s burden to bear. If it was wrong to hand Nick over, Harvey did it too.

  But they could make it right.

  He wanted to. He wasn’t scared. One thing about hell Harvey was certain of: Tommy wasn’t there.

  As Harvey passed his neighbor’s house, he saw her struggling hanging up the laundry and helped. Mrs. Link invited him in for a cola.

  “Haven’t seen much of you lately.”

  “I’m planning a trip with some friends.”

  Harvey hoped she wouldn’t ask if they were going somewhere nice.

  “Is your friend Nick going?”

  “My what?” Harvey asked. “You must mean Sabrina’s boyfriend.”

  “Oh dear, that has to hurt.”

  “Nope,” Harvey said defiantly. “Not a
nymore. I’m with Roz now.”

  Mrs. Link put a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. “Still, you were with Sabrina a long time. It must be hard knowing you were her gateway crush.”

  Harvey blinked. “Her what?”

  “Girls need training wheels. Someone sexually unthreatening,” Mrs. Link clarified. Harvey choked on his cola. “Like the pop stars in skinny jeans who look twelve. Girls practice until they’re ready to find a real man.”

  “You’re pathetic. You long to keep people safe,” whispered the birds, “when everyone wants danger.”

  Harvey washed his glass and left. After that, he couldn’t face his dad, so he went back to Sabrina’s house. It was okay to go. He wasn’t being a nuisance.

  He hoped he was helping Sabrina feel better. He probably wasn’t.

  Hilda Spellman said to go to Sabrina’s room, so Harvey did. From outside, he heard Elspeth’s voice.

  Elspeth, his potential new friend, always looked pleased to see him. She was more shaken by the attack on the Academy than she let on, so she pretended to be sicker than she was. If Elspeth liked being looked after, that was fine with Harvey.

  He opened the door and was instantly punished.

  Elspeth and Melvin were making out on Sabrina’s bed. There weren’t many clothes involved.

  “Sweet Jesus!”

  Elspeth and Melvin hissed: “Stop swearing!”

  Harvey shielded his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I’ll go.”

  Elspeth murmured: “Or …”

  Harvey shut the door. Then he opened it, eyes still covered. “Get out of Sabrina’s room!”

  He found Sabrina curled asleep on Ambrose’s bed beside her cat, the drawing of Nick clutched close and tears glittering in her lashes. Seeing her miserable made everything go wrong in Harvey’s chest, scrambling and desperate to fix this for her.

  Salem meowed. Sabrina said he was talking when he did that.

  “Hey, buddy,” Harvey murmured. “I see you’re looking after her. Thanks.”

  He felt he and Salem basically understood each other. He stole away from Ambrose’s room. He shouldn’t just hang around, but he could make Zelda coffee.

  He didn’t try approaching the other witches. Most wanted nothing to do with mortals. Agatha, the meanest witch, had refused to let Harvey carry her even when she was too weak to walk.

  To Harvey’s surprise, Melvin joined him at the kitchen table.

  “Mortal, could I have a word?”

  “Sure,” said Harvey. “Sorry about … interrupting. I didn’t know you and Elspeth were dating. I thought you were dating the redhead. Guess I got that wrong.”

  Melvin blinked. “You didn’t. Dorcas and I have been together since the glorious occasion of my deflowering, on Lupercalia.”

  A thin, startled sound escaped Harvey, as if he were a scandalized kettle.

  Melvin bristled. “It’s not so unusual for warlocks to be chaste!”

  Harvey leaped to reassure him. “Of course not. You want to wait for it to be right. Hey, actually, me too.”

  Maybe this was great. Melvin was one of the more approachable witches, and Harvey had questions. He’d never been able to talk about this with his friends. Roz had come home from summer camp with important news. Harvey thought he knew what it’d been, but everybody stared until he slunk away. Even though he wanted to hear too. Now it seemed sometimes like Roz wanted to move things further, but he wasn’t sure. He’d been wrong about how Sabrina felt.

  Harvey didn’t like being touched when he didn’t want to be. He felt unwelcome in his own home. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than getting this wrong.

  Harvey asked his first question. “What is Lupercalia?”

  “It’s a witch festival. How to explain? Perhaps I should mention the anointing with blood? No, perhaps I should describe the wolf costumes?”

  “Blood and wolf costumes,” Harvey murmured, in terror.

  Roz couldn’t be expecting blood and wolf costumes.

  “Dorcas wanted to be with Nick Scratch for Lupercalia, but I didn’t take that personally. Obviously anybody would prefer Nick.”

  “Guess who’s mortal and tired of talking about Nick Scratch! This guy.”

  Not a day went by without someone mentioning Nick was a satanic sex god. Harvey would’ve been plenty intimidated if Sabrina’s new boyfriend had a cool car. Nick’s whole deal was ridiculous overkill.

  “Dorcas was one of Nick’s girlfriends, back when he had three,” Melvin explained.

  “Back when he had—? Sure. Fine. Jesus.”

  Melvin gave Harvey a sad look for swearing. The universe cackled at Harvey.

  “Sometimes one wants variety. You were seeing Satan’s daughter. Now you’re seeing a”—Melvin made a face—“priest of the false god’s daughter. You don’t have a type.”

  Harvey thought of Sabrina radiant as moonlight, Roz glowing like the sun. Harvey’s type was people who were great and beautiful.

  “Don’t mention I was messing around with Elspeth,” added Melvin. “Dorcas knows she could do better than me, so she can disport with whomever she pleases, but she’d be insulted if I was faithless.”

  “That’s awful!”

  “Sabrina got to be with Nick Scratch and you. Is it different because you didn’t know?”

  “That didn’t happen.”

  “It definitely did.”

  “No, it didn’t,” snapped Harvey. “You should be ashamed of deceiving your girlfriend.”

  He took deep breaths and tried not to hate witches. He had to keep trying, to make up for misunderstanding Nick.

  There’d been so many lies. But he didn’t believe Sabrina would do that.

  It didn’t matter now.

  Harvey’d always believed waiting for it to be right would mean him and Sabrina choosing each other. In the November woods, Sabrina’d asked him to search her for witch marks. He’d thought she might be sending him a signal.

  It never happened again. Harvey had worked out when Sabrina started witch school. After Sabrina met Nick Scratch, she stopped taking off her clothes and telling Harvey she was sure about him. She wasn’t sure anymore.

  In December, Sabrina tried to bring Tommy back, and Harvey needed a break. He kept imagining the cold weight of the gun in his hands. He was afraid he’d be cruel to Sabrina if he was around her, and ruin everything between them. Harvey thought he could take some time. They loved each other. He believed that, even if everything else was a lie.

  Then Nick Scratch showed up on his doorstep, obviously interested in Sabrina, and Harvey knew he was doomed.

  He’d fought the realization.

  It was February when he last kissed Sabrina. That was the last kiss.

  On the day she finally returned from witch school they ended up kissing, falling backward onto his bed, whispering they’d missed each other. This time, Harvey told himself, he didn’t mind being dumb and wrong, he was deliriously glad. Magic didn’t matter, Nick Scratch didn’t matter. She loved him.

  Then Sabrina chose the witches. She recoiled from him, babbling about protecting him and going too fast. Harvey felt a lurch of horror. He watched Sabrina leave him for another world, and a realization came.

  If he saw Sabrina turn away from him one more time, he would die.

  He told her it was the last time. She walked out. Then Harvey asked Roz to the sweethearts’ dance, and Sabrina took Nick Scratch.

  Harvey wasn’t surprised. He’d seen the writing on the wall all along.

  What he hadn’t expected was for Roz to start reacting when he touched her, as if she cared. That felt like being rescued, at the exact moment he was certain he’d drown.

  He couldn’t be without Sabrina. But they could be friends, as they had been since they were kids. Sabrina would be with the witches like she wanted, and Harvey wouldn’t be entirely alone. Nick Scratch didn’t seem too bad. He clearly thought a lot of Sabrina.

  Maybe, Harvey told himself, everything could be okay.

  Then
he and Nick had a talk at the sweethearts’ dance.

  Sabrina, Roz, and Theo had disappeared. Harvey would personally have felt tempted to hide behind a curtain if left alone in a room of strangers who knew each other. Nick stood around looking smug in his tuxedo while girls threw themselves at him. Right in front of their dates.

  Natalie Garside—shame on you, Natalie!—told Nick about the after party and her hot tub.

  “I’m with Sabrina Spellman,” Nick answered politely. “I’ll be going where she’s going.”

  Harvey nodded. Correct response, well done.

  “If you want to have fun with me,” Nick continued, “you have to ask Sa—”

  Harvey, at the snacks table, dropped his plate and made urgent eye contact. When Nick’s dark gaze flickered questioningly, Harvey made a throat-cutting gesture. So Nick would cut it out.

  “I’m making a mortal joke,” Nick told Natalie. “Excuse me.”

  “So handsome,” Natalie murmured in his wake. “So homeschooled, but so handsome.”

  Nick appeared by Harvey while Harvey was contemplating the wreckage of his crackers. Harvey dropped his last cracker.

  Nick seemed indifferent to mortal snacks. “Which part of that was wrong?”

  “Maybe don’t talk about, uh, having fun with anybody when you attend mortal functions.”

  “That can’t be right,” argued Nick. “How do mortals ever have any idea what’s going on?”

  “God, I don’t know! We’d rather not have any idea what’s going on than risk getting embarrassed. The human race still manages to continue.”

  Nick made a face when Harvey said “God,” but seemed to think over the rest.

  “I don’t want to embarrass Sabrina,” Nick admitted.

  “The first thing you said was good.”

  Nick nodded as if committing this advice to memory. Harvey figured this interaction with Sabrina’s new guy was going well.

  Then Nick said: “What’s a hot tub? What do mortals do in them?”

  It would be so nice, Harvey thought wistfully, if the ceiling crashed down and killed them.

  “That girl told me I wouldn’t need a bathing suit,” Nick added.

  “Natalie,” murmured Harvey, aghast. “Um. I don’t know! I don’t go to parties with hot tubs. Our group usually plays games.”