I look at Devlin as we cautiously walk together. After my slight break down he suggested we go somewhere less...just not the place I died.

So here we are in silence, walking towards where we both parked our cars. We have a couple of feet between us. We both parked in a small off the road trail, just far enough others wouldn't notice them without looking.

My old beater car sits next to his pristine one. It is contrasting, his power and wealth compared to mine. His power is both literal and figurative. While mine has always been dormant, or at least that is what I thought. There is very much a difference between dormant magic and trapped, caged, magic. Someone put a block on part of me, a piece of me that I have not been able to access. Then turned and told me something was wrong with me...That I was the problem.

The more I think about it the more angry I get, like I want to explode. Or punch something.

Normally I'm very against answering problems with violence...But I think I can cut myself some slack.

I died last night and found out someone intended for me to have a slow and painful death by my mid twenties. I think I deserve to be a little violent. If it wouldn't hurt me I'd take my anger out on a tree, but from past or future experience trees hurt when you punch them.

Time travel thoughts are confusing.

"Where to?" Devlin asks, leaning against his car, one of his hands in a pocket.

"I don't...I don't know." I confess with a sigh.

Devlin looks at me, calculating something. It's strange I can almost feel his worry, or is it concern? Either way I'd rather not be feeling it.

Devlin nods before straightening, "How about a diner? One should be open by now."

"Yeah, we could or somewhere else... Hollowed Grounds. They are always open. They are technically a coffee shop but more diner-esque." I say, glancing around.

"Don't think I've been there yet, in either timeline." Devlin says, phone in hand now.

"It's in the older part of Briars Hollow, not far from the academy, just on the edge of one of the witchy meeting spots. Original owner was a witch that also liked coffee. They're open like 24 hours." I explain, moving to open my driver side door.

Devlin looks at me a moment before nodding and getting into his own car.

I turn my car on for the engine to warm up a little. The morning has started to warm up. But I already didn't let my car idle this morning, so I let it do it now. Rather not have my car stall on my way out of the woods. Which wasn't something I was able to think about this morning. All I'd been able to think about was leaving that house. And now the thoughts are worse so much worse.

Could my mother have known? Could my grandmother?

I sigh and try to push the thoughts away. I need to get to Hollowed Grounds. That is my focus.

It doesn't take long to get there, and Devlin is already there, waiting. 

Leaning against his car once more, phone in hand. He puts his phone away as I get out of the car, with my shoulder bag slung over one shoulder.

He opens the door for me, leading me into the building. We sit at a table, it's in a corner. Glancing up I recognise the art piece above it. Sophomore year I'd done a series of large paintings based on fairytales. Ironically, it is of a wooded area in winter and a figure in a red cloak. Now when I think of woods in winter, I'll think of crimson staining the snow instead of a red cloaked figure.

Rosemarie had been awesome and posed for my reference photos, even if it was below freezing for some of them. I think she still wears that cloak in winter.

Pulling myself back to the present, I notice a mug with a whipped cream and chocolate on top, what I get every time I come here, is placed in front of me. Devlin has what looks like a regular coffee, could be decaf I guess. 

"They seem to know you quite well," Devlin says, nodding at the drink in front of me.

I shrug, and take a careful sip from the mug. The tastes of Carmel, chocolate and marshmallow hit my tongue. Making me sigh in content. One thing that hasn't changed, is a caramel s'more latte. Sadly, it seems like everything else will change.

"What even is that?" Devlin asks, looking at the drink.

"Caramel s'more latte, sometimes they put graham cracker sugar dust on top. But only in the winter." I smile softly, playing with the mug.

Devlin squints his eyes and slightly tilts his head, then shakes it, before leaning back in his seat. His reaction to my drink widens my smile.

"So..." I say, biting my lip. 

"So indeed," Devlin says, looking at the ceiling.

"Are we going to talk about it?" I ask, reaching forward to fiddle with some sugar packets. "Last night."

Devlin sighs. "It wasn't supposed to be you."

"No, you were going to use one of my childhood best friends," I whisper, knowing some anger leaches into my words.

"It wouldn't have been permanent." Devlin grounds out.

I give a 'really are you serious' look. I truly don't believe that. Considering to bring me back to life, Death had to get time reversed!

"It wouldn't have been permanent for her." Devlin says, "She was chosen because it would unlock some of her ancestry, and...I was told to use her."

I narrow my eyes at him, "By who?"

"The people who sent me here," Devlin says, looking at his mug.

"And who sent you here?" I ask, keeping my voice at a low volume.

Devlin sighs, "I can't say...Literally."

My jaw drops a little, because if what he is saying is true. He has been bound to not reveal that information. That is practically unheard of. Well unheard of for teh majority of people, unless someone joins a super secret and powerful cult. Or Religious order.

"Yeah I know what your thinking, its rare, but it does happen." Devlin sighs, taking a long drink of his coffee.

"What was the ritual supposed to do? I'm assuming it is something that whomever still wants it to happen." I ask, leaning forward.

Devlin nods. "Well, they don't know that it sort of happened, but then now it hasn't happened...This wording thing around what happened is annoying... But yes, they'll still want it to happen."

"Glad we agree on something, thinking of stuff that has happened to me or us but hasn't happened to anyone else." I say, shifting packets around.

"Yeah. Anyway, it actually had to be postponed. You and your friends did something that we had to wait for the next available time." Devlin sighs.

"When was the first time?" I ask, tilting my head.

"Next week," Devlin states.

"How'd we mess that up?" I say, trying to remember to this time last year.

Devlin laughs a little. "It was honestly a coincidence. Your friends took you out of town for a late birthday trip. Before school started."

Suddenly, the memory comes forward in my mind. We went to a nearby city, did some shopping, and then Lillith had the wild idea, so we snuck into a club. I had to carry Rosemarie to the car while Mac carried Lillith. We'd all drank, but Mac burned through it faster than us, so he had to drive us home. Stupid werewolf and his freakishly fast metabolism.

I giggle at the memory, because how ironic is it that we foiled a ritual because we got drunk?

"Why those two dates?" I ask, after giggling for a few minutes.

"They just happen to be when various lay lines line up." Devlin shrugs.

"Are you able to tell me why the ritual?" I ask.

Devlin looks in thought before saying, "It was to power something else. The magic generated by the ritual would be stored and used to power a spell. I was not informed of the specific spell...Just that it is important."

"If her death wouldn't have been permanent, how would Rosemarie's death have been enough power?" I ask, head tilted.

"She is unique, rare, she would be unlocking her banshee ancestry. The rebirth of a banshee, along with her initial mortal death would have created a large power source." Devlin explained, "You were also so full of power, slowly burning you from the inside out that I was able to use you. Your power would have been more than enough plus the death."

"If she is meant to be a banshee...why didn't you just ask?" I ask, as my head thuds down on the table, taking everything in.

"I...I didn't think of that." Devlin admits.

"Men..." I groan into the table.

"Honestly, I don't think anyone would be willing to get...Murdered," Devlin says, leaning forward and whispering the word 'Murdered'.

A giggle escapes me as I think about my friend, and she would absolutely volunteer to get murdered. Just to know what it is like to be dead. She once asked us to bury her alive, her mother put a stop to it. Her dad then got yelled at by her mother because he thought it was a great idea and asked if we'd bury him. If I had to guess I'd say she inherited being a banshee from his side. The two of them like the creepy and obscure, especially things involving death.

"You have obviously never met Rosemarie, and talked to her," I mutter through my giggles. "Especially if she is meant to come back. She'd be all for it. Well, first she'd probably want me to help her with research to ensure she'd come back."

I peek up and can see Devlin looking at me with a look. The look clearly reads that he doesn't believe a word I've just said. Biting my lip I fight off the giggles that want to bubble out, and right myself in the chair once more.

"How about bet then?" I ask.

I'm ninety percent sure he can see the mischief in my eyes, because I am not even trying to hide it. For the first time today I'm not thinking about what has no longer happened, instead I'm focusing on what could happen. Because I look forward to his reaction when Rosemarie throws him by agreeing to this.

"What would we wager? Because no one in their right mind is going to just agree with that." Devlin says, leaning back in his chair.

I tap a finger against my chin, and take a few minutes to try and think. I don't know him like at all so I can't think of something he'd have or want.

"You're an artist, correct?" Devlin asks.

I give a single nod in confirmation.

"You have to make me something, I'm not picky, but you have to make me something. If she says no and or get upset in anger, you have to make me something." Devlin says.

That is fair and something that I can relatively with ease do, so I nod to that.

I look him over and think about his car, and his phone. He's got a nice car, nice phone, dresses in expensive clothes. He probably has some money or access to it. So maybe he can buy me something...Like art materials.

"Materials, buy me new art materials. Of the value you think it should be." I finally say.

He leans forward, and rests his arms on the table and grins at me.

"Deal," He says.

"Deal," I say, before picking up the food menu.