Going Your Own Way, but with Magic

Chapter 24

There's three people doing the ritual, and me watching. Miranda (wearing a black silk armband), Goth Number 2, who's name I learn is Darius, and a nondescript middle-aged man. It's disconcerting how normal he is – grey suit, average height, brown hair brown eyes. I couldn't describe him without looking. Sitting in the middle of them is Cecelia. I can't force my pity away. She looks old, but it's worse than that. She looks broken, too exhausted even for hatred. There's nothing in her eyes when she looks at me. I look away first. I need to say something, the kind of thing Jamie excels at. Something perfect, murmured with a sympathetic look, something that will make everything okay. I have nothing, and I can't make it okay.
"Life will go on. The world will go on. And you'll be alive, and you'll find a place in it. Somewhere. I promise." I think it's a promise that I can keep. Cecelia smiles weakly, or I think it's an attempt to smile. Miranda nods what I think is approval. I think I did okay. Under the circumstances.
"You're sure you want to be here?"
"I'm sure. I have to see this through, right to the end." She gives me a small, tight smile. I think she understands.

The spell is incredible, so beautiful it almost snaps me out of my gloom. It takes a full minute to recite the words, which I think are Latin or Greek. There's spells within spells within spells, tangling together and pulling apart. Golden thread winds around the smoke. There's a moment, a catch in the silence, and then the smoke begins to clear. It leaves Cecelia lying on the floor, wordlessly sobbing. I make myself watch, memorising every second. I won't forget. Miranda kneels beside her and whispers something too quiet for me to pick up. Whatever it is, it makes Cecelia stand up straight and brush her hair out of her face. She's unsteady, and there's tears in her eyes, but she doesn't look so utterly defeated. She offers Miranda her hand, and Miranda doesn't hesitate before she takes it. The man unlocks the door, and makes an effort to smile at Cecelia. Cecelia returns it, and it's the first smile I've ever seen on her that reaches her eyes. She walks out standing straight, and I watch her leave. She looks back at me once, and we hold eye contact for a few seconds. We have a conversation without words, and then she's out of sight.

"Well." Miranda has her hands on her hips, but even she looks delicate.
"Yeah. What'll happen to her? I mean physically, not...everything else." I want an answerable question.
"Physically, she'll age about fifty years in a couple of days as the last remainders of magic leave her system. It won't be pleasant, but it'll be fast. After that, it's up to her what she does."
"Do you think she's earned forgiveness?" The man speaks softly, in a public-school voice. "Sorry, stupid question." It isn't. And he's looking to me for an answer. I have to think for a moment.
"No. Not yet. But she can, that's the point. I think she can. I hope she can." I think I believe myself, but I'm not sure. The truest answer would be that I don't know, but I can't bring myself to admit that. Whether she redeems herself or not, no one else is going to be hurt. That's what matters.
"Anyway. That's the one loose end tied up." It sounds callous, but everyone in the room understands. So many things have been left undone, that this is important. Sometimes loose ends need to be tied up, and sometimes those loose ends are people. Miranda pulls me into a hug before I leave. For someone so modern, she has an oddly old-fashioned smell – it makes me think of carbolic soap and baby powder. Her fingers are sharp but it's okay.

That was sort of the end of that. People moved on with their lives. They didn't forget, but they carried on. We walked and talked and ate and let life fall back into place. I don't have a destiny, but I've come to terms with that. Defeating Cecelia wasn't my destiny, it wasn't the one task that would bring me peace. It was the right thing to do. Nothing more, nothing less. There were no higher powers compelling me. It means I've got to some shit to sort out on my own, but it's alright, because I'm not alone. I've got friends who like me and an emotional father figure and a boy who I've kissed. I have a chance at life. Maybe the life I saw when I was about to jump, maybe something entirely different. But I have a chance, at happiness and love and all that fluffy shit. I have a chance, and that's all I need. Things aren't perfect, but they're close enough.

A/N: Thank you, so much, to anyone who's read this all the way through. Much as this novel has made me want to die, I loved writing it.