Sort of Dead

36 - Cue The Dramatic Score

Because of me too, I thought, but my tongue was too dry for me to actually say anything, and my brain too short-circuited. I’m the one who sucked his blood after all.

‘I know what I’ve done is unforgivable, abominable,' Uncle was saying. ‘But I would like to apologize. You’ve lived half an accursed life, Marra. All because of me. You’ve lost everything . . . and despite all this money, all this – damned wealth . . . I have lost everything too. I have lost . . . and the Coven Thirteen has won. I’m sorry, Mar. It doesn’t matter, but for what it’s worth – I’m sorry.’

'You're sorry?’ Aar exploded. ‘You just single-handedly destroyed lives! Who knows what other side-effects or whatever the curse had? Who knows how many people's life has been made a living hell because of your selfishness! And you’re sorry! That’s what you are!’

‘Aar! Come on!’ Bee implored, trying to see reason. Uncle and I were practically drowning in tears (since neither of us knows swimming, the analogy fits). 'Can't you see? Are you mad?’

'Mad, Bee? I’m furious! Didn’t you listen to what this old fart just said? Marra's Dad is dead! We saw it! You saw it! With your own two eyes, how can you still even - '

'AAR! No one is perfect. “Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side he doesn’t show to anybody.” Mark Twain. It is - '

‘I don’t care what Mark Twangy buddy said!’

(I’m pretty sure I heard Bee mutter 'It's Twain' under her breath.)

‘All I care,' Aar shouted, 'is that my friend is going through some rough sh-'

'Hey, everyone!’ a cheery, upbeat voice – like a clownfish amongst piranhas – hissed just then. ‘Can I ask something?’

We all turned to face Es. She was smiling, but only half-heartedly. (Do spirits have a heart? I never thought of asking.) Her colorful-marker-outline-thing was taking form. I took that as a good sign.

‘What is it, Es?’ Bee asked her, determined to drive the conversation away from Aar's outburst and my futile tears.

Es the spirit simply played with her immaterial, ghostly braids and said in her usual sugary, hissing voice: 'I was just curious. About that stuff you sprayed on Marry-wee-wee.’

She was looking directly at my Uncle.

(Side-note: I do not like when she calls me that.)

You can’t say no to Es's cute stare, so he was obliged to answer. ‘I got it from an old potions-dealer back when I was in {Undisclosed}. He sells stuff from the Himalayan sages. This liquid - ' he held the sprayer up (I hadn’t realized he’d had that the whole time) '-was the last of what he had. He said it worked well against witches. So I brought it . . . you know, just as a precaution.’

‘Witches? But Marra's not a Witch,' Aar spurted in.

‘Well, I tried my luck. He has been cursed by a witch, and it was “Witch” Moon Day that triggered him anyway. And fortunately, it did work.’

Oh, it had worked, alright. I can still feel the sting.

'Worked a little late though, don’t you think?’ Aar shot.

He was refraining from saying it, but obviously he was talking about my father’s death. It sucked. Everything about this sucked. Ghost Moon Day, Witch Moon Day, whatever you want to call it – label it Downhill Friday, for all I care – it sucked. I love Aar (hashtag Aarra forever), I get that he was just angry because of what had happened to me – but this still sucked.

(That spells S-U-C-K-E-D, by the way.)

In my bones and in my heart and in my flesh and in my blood most of all – I knew in that moment I was a monster.

And I decided I would do something to fix this all. No matter what it takes.

Almost there.