Page 72 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

“Let them in.” That feels like an instruction from someone else, but I sense no malice in the directive.

So I lower my guard. When the shadows recede, I’m no longer alone. No longer small. My mind matches my body, and the rapidly shifting circumstances make this feel like a dream, but he’s here. How is he here?

I breathe his name, overwhelmed with joy warring with astonishment: “Kerboros. You came for me.”

“There is no distance I would not cross to find you.” His tone contains no levity, only devotion, and of such a singular nature, I marvel that I seem to possess it.

He takes my hands. There is a chill to his touch, but it’s echoed in mine, and the points of contact on our skin warm swiftly until heat blooms between us. That warmth suffuses me, sweeping through my body until my nerves are singing. I want him so much that my body aches, and my toes curl.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say then.

“This is all a dream. You have to wake up. And return to me.”

My eyes snap open. Kerboros hovers nearby, but we are not touching. He reached me in the depths of my despair, trapped in the past, in the pain. And he dispelled it. Now I can recall the scene where Rain and Fen discussed what to do with me, as if I was a stray kitten they’d found, without pain threatening to double me over.

I throw myself into his arms, a creature of impulse to my core, and he catches me close, caressing up and down my back. I have never felt like a treasure, though my dad often calls me one. But the way Kerboros touches me, the gentleness of his hands, makes me feel like a wonder.

“How can we help them?” I ask, stepping back. I could have lingered in his embrace, but not with the others counting on us.

“You’re close to Taragon. Perhaps you can reach her.”

I nod. “Tell me how you did it, then.”

“I focused on you, the essence of you, and magic did the rest.”

“Magic.” I speak the word like a curse.

Will it always be my downfall? But I must try. I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to Tara. I talked her into joining this mad endeavor; I can’t allow her father’s suspicion of me to become an accurate estimation of my character, of the danger I pose to those around me, those who trust me.

“Keep watch?” I ask.

Kerboros assents immediately, and I close my eyes. First, I simply remember Tara, what she means to me. When we first met, I hadn’t been long in Mudge’s custody. He would never admit it, but I suspect Da came to some arrangement with the Toadpearl family so I would have some company. He must’ve been worried about me, friendless waif that I was.

I remember the essence of her, everything we did together, and then, with all the fervor I can muster, even though I’m exhausted by what we’ve already endured, I spark up my magic. At first, there’s nothing. Silence and void. Then, a faint pull on what feels like a thread tying me to her; I follow it—such a nebulous strand—and a narrowing sensation fills my mind, as if I’m passing through an impossible tunnel.

I’m with her. Standing in the tavern kitchen, though not as clean as it was when we visited recently. Everything is dingy, dishes piled high, and Tara is little too. What we witness as we grow leaves a lasting mark, it seems. Raised voices go back and forth, an argument gaining in sound and fury. I don’t see Tara’s parents, but they must be in the common room.

“We don’t even have enough to pay the grocer!” Tara’s mother shouts.

“I’m doing my best! We just need to get past this rough patch and—”

“You always say that! We need a miracle, not more of your nonsense. I’ve made a deal with a hobgoblin in Winter. He’ll pay good coin if Tara helps him for a few seasons.”

“You sold our daughter?!”

“Not sold. Rented. She’ll be treated well and fed delicious food while learning about another culture. What could be better?”

“Woman, I swear—”

“Tara!” I touch her lightly on the shoulder. I put aside the pinprick of pain about being right; Da did buy me a friend.

Well. He rented me one. But that means what we have now is real. She could have turned her back on me, especially after I hurt Tempest. The fact that she didn’t means everything to me. It doesn’t matter why we’re friends now, only that we are.

“Thea?” She blinks at me like one awakening from a long slumber.

“Focus on my voice. None of this is real. I need you to resist. And to follow me out. Take my hand if you trust me.”

For a moment I’m afraid—I’m so afraid—that she won’t. But just as she trusted me in the real world, she takes one step, then another, and soon her fingers wrap around mine. She doesn’t doubt me.