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Saint
I crawl up my bed, swiping the tears from my eyes hastily. Wincing, I look down at my thumbs. I pause. Fresh blood seeped into the edges of my nails. Flying off the bed, I rush into the bathroom and begin scrubbing my fingers.
“You awake, chica!” Ophelia storms into my room and I quickly splash water over my face to hide the tears. I’m patting my cheeks dry when she stops outside the bathroom door, cocking her head. Her hair is piled on the top of her head in a messy bun, her face free of makeup—not that she needs it to begin with. She sags against the door. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not!” I lie, walking past her.
“Mmmhmmm. You can’t lie to a witch, especially your sister witch.”
I drop down onto my bed and she makes her way to a duffel bag that she brought in with her. “I know I said alcohol isn’t good for the state of mind you’re in right now, but I’ve changed my mind. I will not have you feeling this way the night you see him again for the first time.” She lifts a bottle of champagne to her face. “Cristal?” She flashes the gold bottle up and I smile at her.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Ophelia.”
She pulls out two flutes from her bag of tricks, and then another but places it on the office desk. She begins pouring. “Oh please. You, my little Saint, are stronger than anyone I know.” She walks over and I take my glass from her. Instantly, I feel my chest loosen, the vision I just had fading. “I’m serious. If you need to talk about anything, you can trust me.” She sips on her champagne, and I watch her carefully. Ophelia has the most unique green eyes I have ever seen, which only contrasts her dark mocha skin tone. So beautiful. God, but she’s seriously beautiful. That kind of beauty only comes around every so often. She’s the kind that everyone would stop and stare at.
“I’ve been having these visions.” Before I can think about what I’m saying, it’s out.
She turns to face me, her fluffy brows curving into her straight nose. “What kind of visions?”
I shake my head, swiping the champagne residue off my lips. “They’re intense. They’re—almost real. There’s a man.”
She rolls her beautiful eyes. “There always fucking is.”
I would laugh if I wasn’t still partially shaken from the last one. “He comes as Brantley…”
She pauses, then turns and grips me around my chin. “And it can’t be him? Like no way can it be Brantley?” Her eyes are wide, frantic.
I shake my head. “No. I know Brantley, and I don’t just mean his shell. I know his soul, the same way a dog knows its owner.”
She releases my chin. “That means someone is playing tricks with your mind. Do you know how to kick them out? Has Veronica taught you that yet?”
I shake my head, another sip. “No.”
Ophelia’s eyes narrow, but after a second, her expression disappears. “Convenient,” I hear her whisper, but she shakes it off and stands, placing her glass on my bedside table. “All right, I’m going to show you in” —she stares down at her watch— “seven minutes. Lean forward.” I do, shuffling to the edge of the bed. “The error that people make with these visions is that so many who get them presume they’re not real. They are. Have you heard of an out-of-body experience? See, people think it’s neuroscience, and to a degree it is, because everything is science, but—” Her fingers rest on my temples. “Close your eyes.” I do. “I need you in a relaxed state, almost like you’re sleeping.” My shoulders relax and I breathe in and out. I didn’t realize how tired I was until I found myself falling deeper and deeper into a heavy haze. My eyes pop open, but this time, I’m standing beside Ophelia, where she’s still standing in front of my body with her fingers on my temples. “See,” she says, and I turn around to notice another version of her next to me. We both watch our bodies. “It’s not a vision at all. It’s all in the science of your mind. Kind of like hypnosis.” “But, wait—” I shake my head. “So does that mean that the person I am seeing isn’t a ghost?”
Ophelia shrugs. “Could be, but I always see more of the logical and realistic way of our kind, so I’m going to say no, I don’t think he’s a ghost. I wish it was more paranormal than neuroscience, but it’s really not. I’m yet to actually see a damn ghost.” I don’t tell her that I’ve seen one. A lot. Hello, crazy Ava Garcia.
“So what you’re saying is that someone has been coming into my room while I sleep to do this?” I scowl, my skin crawling.
Ophelia’s fists clench at her sides. “Maybe. I’m not sure and haven’t studied deep enough into it yet because I didn’t think I would need to. We will talk about it more when you kick me out. Getting someone out of your head isn’t as difficult as it seems. You just have to find an anchor to bring you back out.” I close my eyes, and just like that, I open them and I’m back in my body.
“Bishop,” I say sadly. “I still have Bishop.”
Ophelia reaches for her glass again, downing the rest of it. “This isn’t good.”
“Keep it quiet for now,” I say, swirling the liquid in my glass. “I don’t know who I can trust.”
Ophelia nods. “Agreed. Tonight, I’ll sneak in and check on you. I’ll stay up all night if I have to, just to see if anyone comes in.”
I nod. “That’s a good plan.”
There’s a knock on my door, and one of the housekeepers, I think her name is Natasha, pokes her head around the corner. “Hair and makeup are here. So is Miss Ivy.”
Ophelia clinks her glass with mine. “Cheers. Let’s get so fucking hot that every single person in that room won’t even know how to breathe without our permission.”
Hair and makeup go fast. I felt a little like Cinderella getting ready for the ball with how fast they all moved around us three. By the time we were done, we were onto our second bottle of Cristal and I was thoroughly ready for tonight.
“Wow.” Ophelia pauses when I stand from my chair. “Seriously impressed that they got you a Berta gown, and not just any Berta. That looks breathtaking.” I move to the other side of my bedroom, in front of the floor-length mirror.
I pause.
Glamor. The rose gold gown pinches at the waist before flowing to the ground in a flurry of sequins and glitter. The strapless style is perfect, my cleavage spilling out the edges with small slits on either side of my breasts. Hello, side boob. My skin glistens with gold from the fake tan, perfectly matched for the color and style of the gown. My hair is down and straightened so sleek that it looks almost plastic, where my makeup is thick and smokey around the eyes, the edges so dark that it makes my color look transcendental.
“Okay, yeah, wow.” I run my hands down the sides, ignoring how clammy they feel. Every time I remember I’m about to see Brantley again, my heart skips one hundred beats.
“I’m not ready to see him,” I say, my chest closing in. I can’t breathe. “I can’t do this yet.”
“Hey!” Ophelia places her glass on the table and makes her way to me. She grabs me by my upper arms, her bright green eyes illuminating. Her hair rolls down her back in perfect natural curls, her skin flawless. She’s not wearing nearly as much makeup as I am. “You’ve got this.” She hands me my glass of champagne. “Finish this and we will be ready to leave. Veronica is hell-bent on us making an entrance, so we’re going to be a little late.” I gather up my YSL bag and check my phone for new texts. Nothing. Deep down, I wanted something from Brantley.