The End of Magic (The Witches of Echo Park #3)(104)

"Hello?" past-Lyse said, placing the phone against her ear so she could return to the mini-fridge, yanking another beer from the plastic ring of the six-pack.

Lyse knew that it was Eleanora on the other end of the call. Knew that she was saying Lyse's name through the phone line.

At that point, Lyse hadn't actually spoken to Eleanora in about three months-their conversations were always less fraught over email-and Lyse remembered hearing a resigned quality, a reticence she had never heard from Eleanora before.

"You got me," past-Lyse said as she walked over to the potting table and leaned her weight against it. "I'm at the nursery."

Lyse imagined Eleanora sitting at her round oak kitchen table, elbows pressed into the tabletop as she held the oversized beige handset to her ear, worrying the coiled telephone cord between her fingers as she decided the best approach to take with her niece.

She didn't remember what Eleanora said, but past-Lyse's response was curt.

"It's fine. I stay late here all the time." The tone was noncommittal.

Under normal circumstances, Lyse and Eleanora were never at a loss for words. She remembered the awkward pauses as she'd waited for Eleanora to get down to business. There had been something off about the phone call.

She remembered how the next few moments of the conversation had changed her world forever. Past-Lyse closed her eyes but wasn't fast enough to stymie the flood of salty tears as they slid over her bottom lids and cascaded down the curve of her cheeks.

"You're dying?" past-Lyse said into the phone, and her voice was taut as piano wire. "But it's not fair." Past-Lyse's voice stretched out into a plaintive whine.

Lyse remembered that on the other end of the line, Eleanora had laughed. Not a harsh sound, but one that was as soft as a sigh.

Then she'd spoken the truest words Lyse had ever heard: "What's fair about life?"

Lyse realized that this was not the place in time that she was looking for. She closed her eyes.

Take me to the moment, she thought. The one I'm looking for.



       
         
       
        

And when she opened her eyes again . . .


• • •

. . . she was standing on the red lacquer bridge that spanned Eleanora's koi pond. Niamh was beside her, holding the Dream Journal. Lyse looked down at her own hands, saw that the journal was indeed gone, and became very confused.

"What happened?" she asked Niamh.

"What do you mean?" Niamh asked, frowning.

Lyse knew better than to elaborate. She'd been pitched back in time because somehow she'd done something wrong.

"Nothing," Lyse said. "I was just thinking out loud."

"Well, so you think we should go soon?" Niamh asked-accepting Lyse at her word. "Not that time really matters now."

Niamh had said those very words the last time they were here.

"Yeah, I think we should go. Doesn't matter about time," Lyse said.

"Shall I open the book?" Niamh asked.

"Yes," Lyse said, and watched as Niamh flipped open the cover of the journal and a glowing gold light shimmered all around them.

Lyse knew she was going to have to take Niamh with her this time. She waited until Niamh placed a hand on her shoulder and then she called up the orb. Just as before, the blue light turned gold . . . but this time, Lyse allowed Niamh to come with her.

Take me to the moment when everything changed for me, Lyse thought-and when she opened her eyes . . .


• • •

. . . she and Niamh were squatting together in a tangle of bushes near the edge of Echo Park Lake.

"Where are we?" Niamh whispered.

"The lake the night I killed someone for the first time," Lyse replied.

Niamh gave her a funny look.

"You're kidding, right?"

Lyse truly wished she were.

"Wait, is that you?" Niamh asked, distracted by something ahead of them.

Past-Lyse was curled into a ball on the path in front of them. As she cried, her body shook from the shock of just having helped kill a man. The luminous shade that was Eleanora knelt beside Lyse's past self . . . reaching out as if she could cradle past-Lyse like a child.

"I miss you," her past self murmured, pushing pieces of dark bangs from her eyes.

"Don't."

Eleanora's tone brooked no argument, and past-Lyse nodded, beaten. Then she opened her mouth to speak but instead pressed her hands to her face, covering her eyes. Blinding herself to the reality of what was before her. 

"The Flood is coming, Lyse. Prepare yourself," Eleanora whispered-and then the Dream Walker dissolved into the ether.