Chapter Text
“Bess? Are you ready?” Nancy called out as she let herself into the Historical Society. “We’re supposed to be at Ace’s in ten minutes.”
“In here!” Bess called back. Nancy followed the sound of her voice into the archives. Dozens of books sat in stacks around the table, barricading Bess and her tome. “I found the spell I was working on last week. If I had completed it while Temperance was alive, it would have allowed us to banish her for another seven generations. I think that’s still what the magic is trying to do; a witch leaves a piece of herself in every spell she casts, so my spell is trying to banish the piece of Temperance that she left behind in the curse.”
“Am I reading this right? It says we need seven relics for the seven generations,” Nancy said, pointing to a line of the text.
“You know the Women in White. Everything had to be seven,” Bess said, rolling her eyes.
“But that won’t work – we only have five relics,” Nancy said, counting them on her fingers. “The key, the pin, the lighter, the cuff link, and the candle. Even if we find something of mine tonight, we’ll be one short.” Bess’s shoulders slumped. As she closed the book with a heavy thud, Nancy could feel her hope slipping away.
“Any luck with the research?” Ace asked when he let them into the loft. Nancy shook her head. She watched Ace’s face fall. On the drive over, Bess had tried to reassure her, convinced they would find something at the last minute. She had held the Grimoire on her lap, insisting that it would hold the answers they wanted.
When they showed the spell to the others, none of them doubted Bess’s logic, that it would in fact break the curse. They worried, however, that Nancy had also been correct, and that the spell wouldn’t work if they tried it without all of the ingredients it required.
Still, Bess clutched the Grimoire tightly as they lit the candles, which now filled every space in the menorah. The flames caught, reaching up to the ceiling, and Nancy clutched the other relics tightly as the world around them shifted.
“This isn’t right – that’s your parents’ house,” she said when she realized where they stood. “Every other night, we’ve gone to visit a Hudson first.”
“Maybe you’re the Hudson this time,” Nick argued. “And since you’re already here, we jumped right to Ace.”
“Which means I must already have whatever the spell needs from me,” Nancy replied.
“Or it means that the spell isn’t going to work, and the magic knows that,” George argued. “After all, we still don’t have anything from the first night, when we went to Gettysburg.”
“Will this work?” Ace asked. He pulled a white piece of fabric out of his pocket.
“Is that Charity’s snot rag?” George asked. Nick chuckled, and George smirked.
“The last time I saw that, it was on my counter,” Nancy said. “How did it get in your pocket?” Ace shrugged, clearly as lost as she was.
“Who cares? It’s a relic from the first generation,” Bess said. “It’s exactly what we need to complete the ritual.”
“Except we still don’t know what we need from me,” Nancy pointed out. As Ace handed the fabric to Bess, however, one corner fell open, and Nancy could see the handle of a knife sticking out. She groaned and curled her fingers into her palm, rubbing at the faint scar the Wraith-banishing ritual had left.
“She did have a thing for your blood,” Bess said softly. She passed the handkerchief and the knife to Nick and opened the book to the page she had marked.
Nancy knelt just behind Florence, letting the other souvenirs fall from her hands. The cuff link and pin fit neatly into the clover-shaped top of the key, which pointed away from Nancy. Ace knelt across from her, squinting into the setting sun. Nick and George took up positions on either side of the relics, and Bess stood above them, the book open in her hands.
“As soon as you use the knife, hand it to George,” she said to Nancy. “We don’t want anything on the ground that doesn’t belong.”
“Got it,” Nancy agreed.
“Ace, you’ll use the lighter to light the candle and let it drip onto the top of the key while I chant. When Nancy’s blood touches the wax, Nick will cover it with the handkerchief,” Bess continued.
“The snot rag,” George corrected, earning a glare from Bess and affectionate eye rolls from Nancy and Ace.
“If I’m right about the spell, we should see some evidence of the curse being drawn out of you,” Bess said.
“And if you’re wrong?” Nick asked.
“If I’m wrong and the magic backfires, one of us may end up banished from town instead,” Bess admitted.
“It’s still worth the risk,” Ace said softly. Nancy nodded in agreement. As desperately as she loved Horseshoe Bay, she knew that she could live a life outside of the town that had raised her if she had to. She didn’t think that she could live a life where acting on her greatest desires would kill the love of her life.
Nick held the handle of the knife toward her, and she looked once more around their small circle. When she was certain they were as ready as they could be, she reached for the knife, and Bess began to speak in a language she didn’t recognize.
The lighter clicked, its flame illuminating their faces in the shadows, and large drops of wax splashed onto the key. The blade slid easily over Nancy’s skin, and she clenched her fist in pain. Blood dripped down the side of her hand, mixing with the was in mid-air. Her hand shook, and Ace let the lighter fall, reaching for her wrist to steady her. She felt George pry the knife handle from her fingers and pull it safely away. The flame brushed against her skin before Nick dropped the handkerchief where it belonged and took the candle from Ace. Their hands free, Nancy and Ace reached for each other, lacing their fingers together.
Smoke leaked out from her chest and his, curling and weaving between them. In its shadow, she could see them standing at the Claw, their eyes meeting over the prep table, at the bar, beside the pass-through window. She could see them sitting together at the library on the day they read Lucy’s letters and holding each other in the moments after Daniel West let him go. She could even see the moments that had only happened in her memories, Temperance’s dreamscape and the Sandman’s nightmare and their encounter on the bluffs before she defeated the Wraith.
Every moment where her heart had reached out to his and his had reached back, laid out like a storybook.
“Did it work?” Nick asked as the smoke cleared.
“The relics are gone,” George said. Nancy wanted to check for herself, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Ace.
“One way to find out,” he said, his signature half-smile appearing. He rose up on his knees, pulling her closer, their clasped hands still between them. He lowered his voice so only she could hear. “I know you've done this before, but, um... for me this is our first kiss.”
She pressed her lips to his, pouring every ounce of the love she had suppressed into their kiss. He released one of her hands, then the other, wrapping his arms around her and holding her body close to his. When Ace pulled away, she leaned into him, chasing his lips, but he turned his head slightly, a thoughtful look on his face.
“I’m good,” he finally decided, smiling as widely as he had when she woke in his arms in the month that never was. She was still laughing when they kissed again.
“Alright, that’s enough, lovebirds,” George teased. Nancy turned to face her friends, who were looking at them expectantly.
“We should get that wound cleaned up,” Nick said, pointing to Nancy’s still-clenched fist. Drops of blood had fallen between them.
“I have a first aid kit in the back of Florence,” Ace offered. He stood, pulling Nancy up with him. He only let go of her when he opened Florence’s hatchback, using both hands to rifle through the first aid kit in order to find antiseptic wipes and bandages, which he used to gently clean and cover her cut. Nick, George and Bess snuck up to the house, looking into the windows.
“Hey Ace? Are you supposed to be in the house somewhere?” George asked. He looked at the house, then back at the setting sun.
“Not yet,” he said, realization dawning. “I think I’m about to arrive. We went back to the first night this year.” Nancy slipped her bandaged hand into Ace’s as they walked up to the front door. His thumb rubbed across the back of her hand, and he led them inside.
“Mom?” Ace called.
“Kitchen!” she called back. They followed the sounds of sizzling oil deeper into the house.
“Smells delicious,” Bess said as they reached the doorway. From her place at the stove, Rebecca turned, already smiling.
“You brought your friends,” she observed.
“I hope that’s okay,” Ace said.
“Always,” Rebecca assured him. “George, why don’t you come take over for me here. I just put this last batch on; flip them once they’re golden brown, and move them to this platter when they’re cooked on both sides. Bess, Nick, if you wouldn’t mind helping me with the table, I have some more plates in here that we can set out. Ace dear, would you and Nancy go let your father know that dinner’s almost ready?” Her eyes lingered on their joined hands, her smiling growing as Ace led Nancy away.
They found Thom in his office, exactly where Nancy had first met him. Ace flicked the light switch by the door to get his father’s attention. He let go of her hand long enough to sign a short exchange with Thom, then grasped it again.
“He wants to know if we’re here to catch another killer,” Ace translated. Nancy shook her head. Thom’s gaze drifted down to their joined hands, and he smiled in the same way Rebecca had a few minutes earlier. As they reentered the kitchen, Thom signed something that made Ace chuckle.
“I saw that,” Rebecca teased. Nick smirked, and Nancy knew he had seen it too, but he didn’t mention anything as he moved a chair from the wall to the table. Bess carefully laid out the silverware, and Thom slipped past them into the kitchen to help Rebecca carry food into the table. Ace held her hand a little tighter as they found seats, as if he was worried she would drift away if he let her go.
“Wait-” Ace interrupted when Thom reached for the matches, holding out a hand to get his father’s attention. “Can we use Zeyde’s menorah instead?” Rebecca nodded and gestured to the breakfront where it sat. Ace retrieved it and moved the candles from the new menorah to the old one. Content, he signed the prayers smoothly along with his father.
As they finished the words of the last prayer, the air shimmered. Nancy blinked, but when she looked around the table, she couldn’t find any changes. Ace nudged her shoulder, then subtly tilted his head at the menorah.
Where only one candle had burned a few seconds ago, eight now stood.
“Would you pass the sour cream?” Rebecca asked, seemingly unaware of the spell that had just ended. Around the table, her friends exchanged glances, each of them clearly aware of the sudden change. Ace reached for her hand under the table, gently reassuring her.
Bess would surely have an explanation later, a reason why the magic had left them sitting around Ace’s table instead of bringing them back to the loft, but with Ace’s hand in hers, she could only focus on the moment in front of them, on the warmth of his smile and the love in his eyes. As he turned back to the table and the conversation that had started between Bess and Rebecca, Nancy couldn’t help but remember what he had said the night before about hope and light.
They had gotten their miracle after all.