Storm (25 page)

Epilogue

Penelope

Three Months Later

It’s the perfect day for a run. Plus, I’m going to eat so much birthday cake tonight that I’ll need it. The wind has a fall chill in the air, but there’s still a glimpse of summer that is remarkable. I switch channels on my radio app and stop when I hear Victor’s name on the WNN
station.

“Change has come—and it’s not the leaves. Tell us, Mr. Prescott, about the new Triad,” the announcer says.

Victor’s voice fills my ears. “We’re growing a new leadership and life for our people. Statics, halflings, and witches, united in a common cause. It’s an exciting time, and also a challenging one. This change in leadership will unite all in our community. The Triad, over the next year, will enlist an advisory committee run by a halfling, a witch, and a Static—equal representation for all parts. This is to build a pathway for the entire Triad to be run by a representative from each.”

“And the Enforcers can expect a change as well?”

“Yes, Bob. The new task team will specialize in integrating Statics into witch society. We’ll be training Enforcers to track demons before they attack, equipping all witches with tools in defense, and we’ll continue safeguarding Nons, all in effect this month,” he answers.

“Remarkable, really. What inspired all this change?”

I smile as I turn down a path. Obviously, he can’t say everything that inspired this change, but he can certainly spin a story. He is still Victor Prescott, after all. I can imagine him there with that smile. The token Prescott smile.

“When the Statics got magic, it really made us think and revealed some negativity in our role as a community. As you are aware, after Miss Penelope Grey’s outing as a halfling, and the incident at the Observance, others came forward. Pillars in our community—and my son was among them. It is due to his leadership that we have a real plan for change.”

“And what of the challenges ahead for the change you’re talking about? Old habits die hard,” the radio anchor says. Indeed they do. The last three months of restructuring haven’t been met with simplicity. Just determining how to do it was a nightmare for everyone.

Victor doesn’t even hesitate. “We’re talking about changing a stigma that has been around since our creation. Good and evil is black and white in our beliefs, but we’re learning that there are also gray areas. It’s the gray we’ve been afraid of. It will take time before a complete removal of prejudice against halflings or Statics occurs in our community. Acceptance is slow in coming, but we are making strides. Under new leadership, at the brink of a new era, they will be achieved someday.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself, Mr. Prescott.

“I am a supporter of this change myself with a personal stake in its success.”

“Me as well,” Victor says.

“Speaking of personal, your son Carter Prescott will be serving on the committee as the halfling representative?”

“Yes, and he’s an excellent tracker. Remarkable young man, but I’m biased.”

“And who else can we expect to see step up?”

“Ric Norris is representing the witches, and he offers a new perspective to change in the Enforcer pairings. Kelsey Arthur, granddaughter of the late Lindley Arthur, will be representing the Statics.”

I flick the volume off with a smile. I always knew that Carter was meant for bigger things. At least, in all of this, good has happened. Victor asked me to represent the Statics on the committee, but I turned him down. I’m not really a good representative for Statics, even if am one now. I’m still trying to make it through a day without people asking me to tell the story of what happened during the Observance or if I knew about Carter.

Speaking of Carter, I’m supposed to meet him. I have only seen him at supervised visits to my house, thanks to my three-month grounding. But it’s my birthday weekend, so I’m finally allowed some freedom.

I turn on the path and start back to my car. The wind rustles the leaves as I run, pounding my feet against the ground. Not having magic, and being grounded, has provided the extra time my life has. More time to run with Connie, to kiss my boyfriend, to be with my family, to hang out with Ric whenever he’s not busy working with the committee. The absolute best part is that I haven’t had to deal with demons.

It’s sort of nice.

The bridge back to my car is only feet away when I sense it, inhale the air, and stop running. Sulfur.

That isn’t my duty anymore.

I can ignore this.

I keep running, grasping on to the salt necklace around my neck. I may not be a witch, but I’m never going to stay unprotected again. I’ve only moved a few feet when someone steps out in front of me. I gasp and freeze on the path, heart pounding.

“Poncho,” I say. I’ve never seen him out of the library, and it’s jarring. He seems so free now. It must be nice to be out in his real form. I pull my earbuds out, and glance past him toward the sun that reflects off the water. His being here can’t be good.

“Miss Grey, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I wave him off without words and look at him. I haven’t seen or heard from him in three months, not since Carter and I took him the black dagger for him to destroy. I also gave him back my relay, since I had no use for it. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes,” he says. “And I must say it shall be even longer before we ever meet again. If we ever do.”

“What’s going on?”

Poncho takes a step forward. “I wanted to thank you for your actions. It’s lovely to be home, where I belong, again.”

Home. Not sure exactly if that’s hell or De’Intero. “Why did they let you back in after all this time?”

A smile spreads across his face. “You killed Azsis, the demon who banned me from hell. With him gone, I was able to return.”

Of course it was Azsis. All those times I looked for information about him, I had the answers in front of me. Poncho knew, but he wasn’t allowed to tell me. “Glad I could be of service,” I say.

“I wanted to give you a present.” I watch as he pulls a small jar from thin air. Inside the jar, a gold fog floats slowly. It’s a mist and a liquid and not quite anything, but it is beautiful. “Your essence,” he says.

I stare at him. I must be going deaf because he didn’t say that. “My what?”

He holds it out toward me. “It was found among Azsis’s belongings, and I wanted to return it you.”

I stare at the magic in a jar. Magic in a jar. My magic. The thing I’ve always wanted is practically being handed to me on a silver platter. And even crazier? Azsis really did keep it as a souvenir. “I can’t take that. It will kill me.”

After what happened with the Statics, I learned when magic’s been mixed with another it is a poison. That may be my essence, but if Azsis used it, then it’s tainted.

“No,” Poncho says. “It’s been in this containment since he took it. It’s not tainted. It’s pure and it’s yours.”

The gold magic dances in the jar. My magic. Magic I thought I’d never have again. I’ve been getting used to living my own way. I kind of like the possibilities that lay ahead now, more than the limitations. “Magic has possibilities,” he says suddenly. “If you use it well.”

Someone pinch me.

There’s no way a demon is standing here offering me back magic and I’m having a brain fart. Poncho steps toward me, and places it in my hands. “Consider it a birthday gift.” The magic is warm in my hands, and I can feel it stirring in the jar.

“I don’t know if I want it.”

“Either way, it belongs to you. You may use it, or not use it, however you please. Your destiny is yours now.”

“Thank you,” I say, pressing my palms against the jar.

Poncho nods, and then, without another word, he’s gone.

Carter is waiting for me when I get to the top of the hill. The sun has already set and the stars are bright around us. When I see him there, my heart races. That boy is perfection. I don’t deserve him. When he sees me, he smiles that drop-dead smile. Not the Prescott smile, the Carter smile. The one that’s just for me. The one that’s always been for me.

He holds his hand out to me and pulls me the rest of the way up the hill. “Hey, birthday girl,” he says. I love the way he says hey. I glance beyond him, and see the spread on the ground of blanket and cookies.

“Cookies?” I ask.

Carter whispers in my ear. “Baked for you. Sorry it took so long. My girlfriend keeps me pretty busy.”

I entwine my fingers with his, and they fit there with his. And he bakes cookies for me. I’m lucky. The luckiest.

We sit on the blanket, and he passes me a cookie. “I heard the news. Victor is really supporting you.”

“Yeah,” Carter says. “He’s a changed man.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“You’re a man? We should talk about that,” Carter says.

I elbow his side and he laughs. I look down at the cookies and my mind drifts to the magic in my car, my magic, preserved in a jar. Do I want that? To be magical again? The last few months have been really nice.

“What’s up?” he asks.

I sigh and look into his eyes. “Would you love me if I was a demon?”

“You were a demon, and I did love you.”

I wave him off. “Technicalities.”

Carter leans in and kisses my cheek. “I’d love you if you were a demon,” my other cheek, “or a witch,” my forehead, “or a Static.” I snort, totally ruining the moment. I’ve been both. “I’d even love you as a Non.”

He presses his lips against mine. I have butterflies. And not because of magic. These are all because of him. I pull away from the kiss with a smile. “You only say that because I’m not boring yet.”

“That is one thing I’m never going to be worried about,” he says. “Why are you asking?”

I shrug. “Would you love me if I was three-headed dragon?”

“No,” he says. “Two heads are my limit.”

He laughs and I press a quick kiss against his lips again.

“Try the salted caramel chip,” he says, passing me a cookie. I curl up in his arms and we lie back on the blanket and study the stars. They’re golden and shimmering, dancing in the sky, magic all on their own. And right now, I’m content.

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Acknowledgments

Right now, I am content as well. That’s only because of the many people who guided me through this book and made it a reality. Writing a sequel really does take a village. Even though we writers hear that we don’t really know it’s our turn to face the challenge. Consider me a believer—and I’m so grateful for all the support and encouragement I received during this process.

Firstly, a huge thank you to my agent Nicole Resciniti, who has held my hand, fought ferociously, and been there with me each step of the way. She is more amazing (and I am luckier) than anyone knows.

To Traci, without whom this book would not exist, because she read every draft and helped me make my ideas work. She’s the Best. Cheerleader. Ever. Even dedicating this book to her can’t express how much she did, or my gratitude for her friendship.

To my editor, Laura Anne Gilman, for helping this book turn into what I was trying so hard to make it be—and having it make sense! All the readers thank you, too. And my subsequent editor, Stacy Abrams, for everything you’ve done to give Pen and Carter’s story a grand finale. I’m very grateful to have had this chance to work with you. Subsequently, but equally, to many hugs to Alycia Tornetta and everyone in the Entangled team.

To Patricia, Asja, Ashley, Lelia, Tim, Jenn, and the phenomenal ladies of the HB&K, who listened to me complain (a lot) for months and cry (a lot) for months and never ever let me give up. Thank you for reminding me I could do this, of why I do this, for listening, and for believing in me more than I believe in myself.

And to Jenny P., who not only gave this book a name, but also a face. Thank you for connecting the story and characters in my head to a cover.

To all the readers who love Pen and Carter like I do—you are golden. Thank you for your kindness, for your excitement, and for your Carter-swoon tweets and posts (he loves you, too, but his girlfriend may kick your butt if you try anything). This one is for you.

About the Author

Danielle Ellison
is from West Virginia, where she spent her childhood pretending to fly, talking to imaginary friends, and telling stories. She hasn’t changed much since then. When she’s not writing, Danielle is probably drinking coffee while fighting her nomadic urges, watching too much TV, or dreaming of the day when she can be British. You can find her on twitter
@DanielleEWrites
.

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