From Texas, our journey continued towards Oklahoma. Dry desert plains and cacti turned gradually into green fields, but that was all that changed. It was still the same road, same sky, same CDs playing over and over.

My only entertainment was my journal. I still hadn’t written anything in it, except the little notes here and there, but it was filling up nicely with drawings. Amelia said I was getting better at it, too.

Since none of us had a camera, I made sure to sketch the few interesting things we saw. Near Amarillo, Texas, we had come across an installation of ten Cadillacs in a neat row, buried front first in the ground. Charon thought it was a meaningful piece of art. Amelia and I liked the graffiti on the cars more.

Another sight in Texas that I drew was a tilted water tower that looked like it was going to collapse, but had apparently managed to stay upright for many years. I also included the welcome signs for each state we drove through, though we always passed them so quickly I couldn’t remember what exactly they looked like when I was drawing them.

In Oklahoma, I saw a man riding a horse. It probably wasn’t that out of the ordinary, but it was definitely a new sight for me. I had only seen police horses, and once a pony at a petting zoo. Although the man's clothes had been normal, I decided to draw him in cowboy getup just for fun.

We stopped in Oklahoma City to shop at a supermarket. It was a refreshing change from gas stations, which had barely any options to select from. In the supermarket there was a guy with a huge red mohawk, dressed in leather and heavy boots. He looked cool, so I drew him too.

I found myself wishing we had picked a route that had attractions worth visiting. Like the Hoover Dam in Denver, or Gateway Arch in Saint Louis. Unfortunately, as the driver, Amelia got to pick the route and she wanted to do the one she had actually been on once. It was the safest option, of course, but just… very, very boring.

I was getting restless again. This time I recognised the magic in me wanting to get out. It had been building up over the last two days, and now it was ready to burst open like a dam. I wasn’t sure how normal it was; no one had told me how often exactly magic was supposed to be released at minimum.

I saw Amelia do it at least a few times a day; small tricks, usually, for her own amusement. She would mutter and incantation under her breath to make pebbles bounce on the ground when we took a break to eat, or switch the songs playing in the car with a snap of her fingers. She also liked to annoy Charon by untying his shoelaces with a simple spell, and then tying them back the second he would bend over to do it himself.

When I mentioned my magic feeling weird again, Amelia looked worried. “Just try to relax,” she said. I didn’t tell her how hard it was to relax when everything looked the same and my ass was numb and all I had for company was a pair of people who couldn’t stay one hour without arguing, all while worrying about my uncle and Fiona and seething in anger whenever I thought about Elvira.

Yeah. As far as road trips go, it wasn’t a very serene one. And it didn’t get any better.

We were somewhere in Arkansas when it happened. I was in the backseat, trying to focus on something other than my magic bursting at the seams. I had started counting red cars. So far I was only on four because I had lost count twice. I kept going in an out of a strange haze, kind of like when you’re really tired and you start dreaming while you’re still awake.

Charon and Amelia had started off with a civilised conversation. Charon had asked about her lessons with Dennis, what kind of magic she had been learning. She told him about her favourite spells — the ones that made people see and hear what she wanted them to; illusions — and admitted she thought her brother’s lesson’s were a bit dull.

And then she went and mentioned the potions.

“Your lot still does those? Regularly?” Charon asked. He looked disgusted.

Amelia frowned. “Yeah. Why?”

“You are so fucking obtuse,” Charon laughed dryly.

“Hey, what am I supposed to do about it? It’s not like I can singlehandedly stop all the witches in the world from doing it,” Amelia pointed out. I could tell she was getting angry because the scenery started going by faster.

“You could stop being so casual about it, for starters,” Charon snapped. I wished they didn’t rile each other up so easily.

“Listen, I can assure you I’ve never brewed a potion that has questionable ingredients,” Amelia said. “We need to make our potions just as badly as you need to eat whatever the hell you eat to survive.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been doing my eating in private because I’m a decent person and don’t want to disturb you. Maybe I’ll start hunting for my food in plain sight, huh?” Charon said.

“That’s fucking gross,” Amelia said and made a face.

“Your face is gross,” Charon countered.

“Guys, please,” I said. My head was already pounding. They didn’t listen to me. They started coming up with more insults, each one nastier and louder than the other, until my ears were ringing.

All I could think of was how much I wanted to get off that damned, never-ending road. I wanted to be in Washington, I wanted them to stop shouting, I needed to get out—

“Oscar,” someone said. Their voice sounded muffled, like I was underwater. “Breathe.”

I did.

BANG!

—

It was so dark I couldn’t see. Water dripped at a steady pace somewhere in the distance, and there was a very small breeze coming from my left like there was an open window or a hole in the wall there.

Once my eyes got used to the darkness, I could barely make out a body on the ground a few feet away from me. Whoever it was, they were still breathing shallowly but the distinct stench of blood worried me.

“The ritual, Killian. That’s all we need,” someone said. Their voice was strangely garbled; I couldn’t make out their accent or their pitch, or whether it was a man or a woman speaking. I couldn’t see them either; me and the body (Killian, I reminded myself in horror) were visibly the only ones in the room.

“You’re not family, it won’t do you any good,” Killian wheezed. An invisible force slammed him harder onto the ground and he groaned in pain. I took a step forward and realised the floor was slick with something. I refused to think about what it probably was.

“We have our ways around the old blood bindings. Just work with me, will you?” the voice said. They would’ve sounded kind if they weren’t coercing a half-dead man.

“It’s not worth it,” Killian grunted.

“It would do your family a lot of good if you weren’t so goddamn stubborn,” the voice said.

“It would’ve done my family good if you had never been in it in the first place,” Killian retorted. His head slammed against the floor and he hissed in pain. I wanted to help, but I was frozen still.

“I’m still a part of it, if you’ll have me,” the voice said.

Killian laughed. To be fair, it sounded more like coughing than laughter. “You betray, kidnap and torture an old man and ask if you can still be his family?”

“This is for the sake of all of us.”

“Is that why you haven’t taken me to your boss yet?” Killian asked.

“I still consider you family. I don’t want to see him make you talk, if I can avoid it.”

The room, along with Killian, started fading away. I screamed his name until my throat hurt, but he didn’t hear me.

The scene changed. I was now on a pier that overlooked a foggy city skyline. The sky was grey and the water restless, but it didn’t feel like a storm was brewing. At least not quite yet.

The crow was there. It was perched on a stone wall watching a pair of women talk. One of them was Sibyl, and the other I recognised as my mother. I felt a lump in my throat the moment I saw her. She looked almost exactly as I remembered her, except younger.

She had the same brown hair as Killian, cropped neatly at her shoulders. On her left forearm was her only tattoo, which was an assortment of plants that had grown in her family’s garden back in England. There were ferns, lilies of the valley, primroses and bellflowers. She was dressed in all black, from the wide brim hat on her head to the simple dress and heels.

I went closer to hear what they were talking about.

“I don’t understand,” my mom said. Her voice sounded small and broken. She was holding a piece of paper, which she read over and over again. I wasn’t close enough to read it, but I could see it was a handwritten note.

“I won’t repeat it out loud, not where anyone could be listening. If I were you, I would memorise it and throw that paper into the lake,” Sibyl warned. I was confused as I looked over the water again. It looked like the sea, not a lake.

“What does it mean?” my mom asked.

“I only repeat what Magik says to me,” Sibyl said. She placed a hand on her arm and squeezed. “How you choose to interpret it is none of my concern. But if you wish to live, you know what to do.”

“You are making me choose between my magic and the man I love,” my mom whispered. “How do you even know it’ll be my child?”

“The timeline adds up. If you don’t want to bear the burden, don’t bear the child,” Sibyl said grimly.

“You know we’ve been trying to get pregnant for years now.”

Sibyl tutted empathetically. She said: “You’ll have time to think it through. Come on, now, dear. We’ll be late.”

They started walking away, Sibyl still holding my mom’s arm gently. My mom let go of the paper, and the wind caught it. I tried to grab it before it could fly into the water, but I failed miserably. I watched it go, just out of reach, until it was consumed by the cold dark waves.

I turned to look at them again, but my mom was gone. Only Sibyl remained, and the crow was on her shoulder again.

“Find the prophecy, Oscar. There’s not much time left,” she said.

“How am I supposed to find it?” I asked.

“You’re a smart boy. You’ll figure it out,” Sibyl said calmly.

“Yeah, thanks. Real helpful,” I said.

“I think for starters, it would do you good to survive the car crash,” she said.

“What?”

—

I gasped for air. My body didn’t work. Everything — my joints, my muscles, my bones, my eyes, everything — was hurting. I could barely turn my head and open and close my eyes. My ears rung so loud I couldn’t hear anything else, and my vision kept going black around the edges.

I was being hauled away from something burning hot. I vaguely recognised Charon’s scent, a salty ocean wind, so he must have been the one half-carrying, half-dragging me. It took all my energy to turn my head to see what we were running from.

My brain couldn’t comprehend it. Dennis’ car was completely totalled, its front mashed against solid stone like it was made of putty. I hadn’t seen any big buildings near the highway, and certainly not so many people. In fact, the road was completely gone. We were running on a well-trimmed grass field.

Amelia was stumbling next to us. She didn’t need Charon’s support, but she looked like she was going to collapse any minute. She kept muttering some sort of a chant.

The building was an obelisk, I realised, possibly the tallest manmade thing I had ever seen. As the distance between us and the obelisk grew, I noticed the circle of American flags around it. Our car had crashed into the Washington Monument.

Crowds of people were running towards the car and the sound of sirens resonated in the distance, but no one seemed to pay attention to the three teenagers fleeing the scene. I didn’t understand why, but I was glad no one was coming after us. I allowed myself to doze off, just for a more few seconds.

When I came to, my mouth tasted like vomit. I was sitting under the cool shadow of a tree, leaning against its trunk. A plastic water bottle was pushed gently against my lips and tilted until the liquid poured into my mouth. I swallowed with great difficulty.

The water helped a little. The ringing in my ears calmed enough that I could hear the buzz of the city. I noticed that Amelia was lying on her back on the grass next to me, breathing heavily. Our bags were next to her, carelessly tossed on the ground.

“Can you move?” Charon asked. He was kneeled in front of me, holding the bottle.

I experimentally brought my hand up and tried to squeeze it into a fist. It was slow and definitely not a fist you can punch people with, but at least I was able to do it.

“Jesus,” Charon sighed.

“How did we get here?” I asked. The words felt strange in my mouth, like I had forgotten how to talk.

“You teleported us, I think,” Amelia laughed breathlessly. I wanted to laugh with her, but my body was still refusing to work properly. I could only manage a half-smile that hurt my cheeks.

“You are such idiots. You could’ve fucking died, both of you,” Charon said. He sounded so upset my smile fell.

“Both of us?” I said.

“It’s not easy to confuse that many people at once,” Amelia explained. I suddenly realised how pale she was, and noticed the tremble in her voice. It made sense now why everyone had ignored us.

“That’s putting it lightly,” Charon said. He sounded impressed and angry at the same time. “Seriously, someone your age doing that…”

“Come on, now, Mr. Siren. I’m blushing,” Amelia said, pleased with herself.

I wanted to ask more questions, but the ringing in my head was getting worse again. The world was spinning. I had a feeling talking had been a mistake; a waste of the little energy I had left.

I was hauled to my feet again, which made me feel more nauseous. I heaved, and nothing but the water I had drank earlier came out. I couldn’t feel my legs, but I saw them drag on the ground like I was a rag-doll. Charon’s voice echoed somewhere very far away.

There was a distant thud. I wasn’t sure if I had fallen, or someone else.

My eyes rolled back. I tried to stay conscious, tried to move at least my fingers, but it felt like my body was completely shutting down. Another wave of nausea, and my gut lurched uncomfortably. I was sure I was going to die.

The last thing I saw was a tall figure (or maybe I was on the ground?) and heavy clouds above me.