That first night Rufus had spoken about his own experiences with recovery. How he’d had a promising career as a baller and pissed it all away for the quick fix of a speed potion. Even getting kicked off the Babylon Enchanters team hadn’t convinced him to get sober. The thing that finally did him in was his girlfriend finding his stash one night when he’d crashed after a weeklong bender. By that time he’d been on the junk so long that he was shooting up a seriously concentrated dose.
He’d found her dead on their bathroom floor with his syringe sticking from her arm.
“It’s hard to believe it’s already been ten years,” Rufus continued. “Despite my initial doubts, I have to say I’ve seen few people dedicate themselves so totally to leading a clean life. I’m sure we’ve all heard Kate’s lectures on the dangers of everything from potion-fueled cars to crops grown using drought-resistance potions.”
More laughter. I forced a smile because it was expected. But inside, I was picturing my dead mother’s body, blue and bloated from the potion I’d cooked.
That first night I’d heard Rufus speak, I knew I’d met someone who understood the pain I’d lived with since the day my mother died. The acidic guilt eating at your stomach lining until you prayed it’d just consume you whole. He made me feel hope that someone could fuck up and experience heart-crushing loss and still go on to have a good life.
Rufus grabbed my hand and squeezed it. When I looked up, he winked at me. My stomach dipped. I was a grade A asshole for playing along with this farce.
But Rufus was always saying that rituals and symbols mattered. Joining a program like Arcane Anonymous provided structure and support for the battles. Rituals provided focus. And the symbols of recovery could be potent talismans against temptation.
Despite my misgivings about my dishonesty, I knew that stopping the ritual would have consequences beyond exposing me for a liar. The truth was, the tradition of earning anniversary tokens wasn’t just about celebrating the accomplishment of one person staying clean. It was also about giving everyone else faith that they, too, could stay sober. If I came clean and refused the token, I’d be depriving Sarah and the others of their hopes for a long recovery.
Rufus reached into his pocket and removed a small black box. I’d been to a few anniversary events and knew what was inside, but it wasn’t until that moment that it hit me I’d be receiving one. I glanced up, uncertain. Behind Ru, Baba had tears in her eyes, and Danny looked so proud it broke my heart.
Ru opened the box. The room’s lights sparked off a silver chain and pendant inside. He removed them and held them up for the assembly’s inspection. A few appreciative oohs and aahs filtered through the room. My eyes zeroed in on the pendant.
The ten-year token was triangular in shape with a Roman numeral X on one side and the chemical formula for salt—NACL—engraved on the other. Since salt was used to banish magic, the symbol was a reminder to stay clean. The triangle stood for the three pillars of sober living—making good choices, maintaining healthy relationships, and learning gratitude for the Mundane.
He motioned for me to turn around. As I did as instructed, I felt as if I was turning to face a firing squad without a ballistics vest. Clearly unaware of my sudden panic, the members of the team all had smiles, except Morales, who looked uncharacteristically solemn. A couple of neighbors Baba invited smiled politely but looked ill at ease to be witnessing such a private moment. Most of the rest of the faces belonged to members of the group. Darla, the former vanity-potion-addict homemaker, stood beside Jacob, a very large bald man with tattoos, who spent his days crafting delicate sculptures out of scrap metal. The only member I didn’t see was Callahan, who only attended the meetings because a judge ordered it after he exposed himself to a busful of schoolkids while freaking on a sex potion.
But it wasn’t until I’d turned completely around that I saw the last face I expected to see in my living room.
Our eyes didn’t just meet—they collided. The impact ricocheted through my midsection.
I knew instantly who’d invited the devil into my house. Danny’s admiration for John Volos was vocal and mind-numbingly repetitive. I’d stopped trying to mitigate the hero worship because it was a waste of breath. As far as Danny knew, his life had been saved by the Cauldron’s version of King Midas.
He wore a three-piece suit, but I wasn’t egotistical enough to believe he’d dressed up special for the occasion. He always looked like he’d stepped off the cover of Handsome Millionaires Quarterly.
On some level I was aware of Rufus speaking again. Felt his hands brush my neck as he put the necklace around it. His fingers fumbled with the clasp. The metal was cold on my skin. John’s eyes were hot.
“There,” Ru said in a triumphant tone. His hands rested on my shoulders. They urged me to turn around again. Not having to look at John anymore was a relief, but I could feel his gaze on my back like a visceral touch. “Let’s all give her a hand, folks!”
The next five minutes were a blur of applause, hand shaking, and hugs. Danny threw himself at me, like he used to when he was five and hugs weren’t yet embarrassing. “I’m proud of you, Katie.”
“I’m proud of you, too, kid,” I whispered, holding him tight. Deflecting the compliment was self-defense. If I let myself wallow in the guilt, I’d combust.
“Isn’t it cool John showed up? He said you wouldn’t want him here, but”—he pulled back—“you’re fine with it, right?”
My smile froze in place. “Sure.”
Pen cleared her throat beside us. “Congratulations.” Her tight smile looked more like a grimace. With all the expectant eyes around us, she reluctantly pulled me in for a tense hug. “We still need to talk,” she whispered.
I didn’t respond. Not because I couldn’t speak, but because I knew if I let myself give voice to the words gathering like bile at the back of my throat, I’d never be able to take them back.
Her grip tightened for a second before she pulled away, turning her back on me.
Danny watched her go with a confused expression. “What crawled up her butt?”
“It’s an emotional night.” I forced a casual shrug. “I think I need a little fresh air.”
“ ’Kay,” he said. “I need to go help Baba get the cake ready anyway.”
I nodded and smiled what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I get cake, too?”