Spellcaster Page 4

  “Hey.”

  Startled, Nadia glanced over to see Faye Walsh standing at the far end of the hallway, a patent-leather file folder in one hand. “Oh. Hi.”

  “Looking for something?” In other words, Do you have a reason for loitering on school grounds, or do you want to get a move on?

  She’d have to try again another day. “I was just … finishing some stuff up. I’m headed out.”

  Ms. Walsh nodded. “Have a good evening.” At least she did Nadia the courtesy of not watching her the whole way out.

  So Nadia started home; the walk wasn’t too far, and though she’d only traveled it once, she figured this town wasn’t big enough to get really lost in. It was kind of weird, though, being surrounded by trees and quiet instead of the bustle of city life. Nadia felt safer in crowds. This kind of setting—with nothing but the sky overhead, nobody much around—she associated with trashy true-crime TV. They always put the abduction reenactments in settings like this, showed the cell phone or purse abandoned on the ground.

  Nobody’s going to snatch you. Besides, you could protect yourself if they tried. She knew those spells backward and forward, could do them if she was drugged or stunned or anything. That was basic witchcraft self-defense.

  Nadia cut across the running track on her way toward the road that led back to her house. There was a little patch of trees back there—probably where the stoners hung out, though right now nobody was around. Somebody’s ancient car, a maroon land yacht from the 1970s or something, was parked nearby but empty. No sound broke the eerie stillness that surrounded her.

  It’s not eerie, Nadia reminded herself. Outside Chicago, you can actually hear things like the wind through the trees. Or—wait, what is that?

  The rumbling sounded like an earthquake, or at least what Nadia thought an earthquake might sound like. Then the ground began shaking beneath her feet.

  Earthquakes in Rhode Island? Nadia grabbed at the trunk of the nearest tree, right at the outskirts of the grove, to steady herself.

  But it wasn’t an earthquake.

  The ground just—sank. In front of her, an entire trench opened up, dirt flying and trees tilting, all of it sloping into the new ditch. Nadia gaped as the lone car tilted onto one side and slid down into the trench.

  Then, as soon as it had begun, it ended.

  Breathing fast, Nadia didn’t let go of her hold on the tree; obviously she couldn’t even trust the ground here. What was that? What had just ripped a hole in the earth?

  Her mind went first to supernatural explanations. Nadia thought again of that weird feeling she’d had, that something might be lurking underneath the chemistry lab … but she didn’t sense that same energy here. Nobody else seemed to be around, which meant no witches to cast spells. Nadia didn’t know of any magic that could work to rip the earth out from underneath; that didn’t mean no such magic existed, but it seemed doubtful. Besides, what could be the point of a spell like that? Would a spellcaster bother trashing people’s junker cars?

  Nadia sighed, now more annoyed than alarmed. Had that been a sinkhole? An underground tunnel or room collapsing? Great, now she lived in BFE and it was collapsing in on itself.

  Sucks to be the owner of that car, she thought. All that remained visible was the back bumper. When they get back, they’re gonna be ticked.

  And then she thought—maybe they didn’t have to know.

  Maybe it was because she’d found herself wishing for something more to be at work, something magical, so she’d have a test for her skills. Maybe it was because Ms. Walsh had made her promise not to limit herself. Maybe she just missed spellcasting.

  And a lot of it probably had to do with the fact that this was what she’d wanted to do when her family was in the wreck—but couldn’t while Dad and Cole were there, not unless their lives were in true, inescapable danger.

  Whatever it was, it made Nadia decide, I’m going to get that car out of the ditch.

  Moving physical objects was surprisingly difficult; witchcraft had more to do with insight and influence than brute strength in the physical world. Nadia had never lifted anything as heavy as a car before, had never even tried. But she knew the spell.

  People would surely come running soon to see what had happened. If she was going to do this, she had to try it now.

  Nadia glanced around—no, nobody was around yet. The school grounds were deserted; no traffic zoomed along the streets. So she took hold of the sliver of ivory on her bracelet and put the ingredients together:

  Terror so great it paralyzes.

  Hope so desperate it aches.

  Courage so strong it survives.

  Nadia closed her eyes as she brought them fully into her mind—tried to wrap her consciousness around the memory and somehow around the car, too. Weirdly, it seemed to her that she could feel it, the bulk and metal of it balancing against her mind—

  Lying in the wreck of the car that night, hearing Cole shriek and not knowing for a moment whether her baby brother was hurt, or how badly.

  That first night after Mom left, when the phone rang, and she and Dad looked at each other in wild hope before she dove for it—but it wasn’t Mom, only some survey that wanted to know if they were buying a new television this year.

  Getting up the morning after that, not crying once, and making breakfast for Dad and Cole like Mom used to, and how they all ate together like it was normal, like it was fine, because they were going to be fine without her somehow.

  Nadia heard a solid thunk and the creaking of old shock absorbers. Tentatively she opened her eyes to see—the car, still rocking back and forth in its new place next to the ditch. She grinned in triumph.

  And then her face fell … as someone sat up in the driver’s seat.

  Verlaine.

  Who was now staring at Nadia in a way that made it absolutely clear that, even though she might not have known what just happened, she knew exactly who was responsible.

  She’d been caught doing witchcraft.

  4

  ONE MINUTE, VERLAINE HAD BEEN HANGING OUT IN HER car, stretched out on the old-fashioned front seat, trying to work a tangle out of her hair and watching videos on her phone. She’d planned to stay late enough that Uncle Gary and Uncle Dave would think she had friends to spend time with; that way they wouldn’t worry so much, or at least they’d stop nagging her about being alone so often. The next, the ground had swallowed her car. She’d been too startled even to scream.

  And that wasn’t even the freakiest thing that had happened to her today—not compared to the part where her car flew out of the ditch again.

  Or where that new girl was the one responsible.

  She dropped her hand right away, like that would make Verlaine not suspect her. Maybe it was kind of a crazy thing to suspect somebody of. But, hello, the car just flew, so welcome to Crazyville, and besides—she knew.

  The new girl said, “Hey, are you all right?”

  Verlaine had to swallow hard before she could speak. “How did you make the car fly?”

  That first split second—that was the tell. Yeah, the new girl, Natalie or whatever her name was, she tried hard to cover. But her first reaction had been total guilt and horror, which made her awkward smile afterward that much more unconvincing. “Wow, you must have hit your head.”

  “I didn’t hit my head.”

  “You must have! Because, you know, cars don’t fly. Obviously.”

  Verlaine tried the door; it still worked, and she stepped out on shaky legs. “Then how did it get out of the ditch? Do you have a forklift or a crane or something hidden around here, Natalie?”

  “It’s Nadia. And of course I don’t. Your car never went into the ditch.”

  “Um, yes, it definitely did.”

  “It only tilted to one side!” Nadia looked … weird. Like, chugged-a-Butterfinger-Blizzard-in-ninety-seconds-and-got-on-the-Tilt-A-Whirl weird. But she was trying hard to sound reassuring. “Probably it felt like you went into the ditch, but you di
dn’t. I’m sure it was crazy scary. Can’t believe you didn’t scream! I would definitely have thought anybody in the car would have screamed. Definitely. But you—didn’t.”

  “If my car didn’t fall in the ditch, why is there dirt in my hair?” Verlaine grabbed the ends of her nearly waist-length hair; now there were twigs and leaves caught in it, too. “Why are there pine needles all over my backseat? And, oh yeah, why do I remember falling in the ditch?”

  Nadia went on the offensive then: “Why are you pretending cars can fly? How would I even make that happen?”

  Two very good questions. But Verlaine said only, “I know what I know.”

  “When you go home and think about it, and talk about it with your dads, you’ll get it straightened out,” Nadia replied, as if she very much wanted to believe it was true. “If you’re okay, well, I’m going home.”

  In silence, Verlaine watched her go. Nadia never once glanced back. Wouldn’t anyone normal glance back after something like that?

  Verlaine considered whether this Nadia was in fact severely abnormal. She hadn’t looked like a weirdo; Nadia was beautiful, even a little glamorous, with the kind of designer jeans and funky custom-made jewelry that didn’t appear in the halls of Rodman High very often. But making cars levitate out of a ditch? Definitely not average.

  Then a moment of doubt crept in … levitation, flying, all of it sounded like stuff from comic books or fairy tales. It didn’t seem possible for Nadia to do that—and besides, why even assume Nadia was responsible? Yes, she’d been standing right there, and holding her bracelet and her hands in that odd position, but that hardly meant she had powers over gravity. She was also the first person Verlaine had met in a long time, possibly ever, who had even been—well, nice to her. Normal. She didn’t know why Nadia treated her nicely, any more than she knew why everybody else treated her like dirt. What she did know was that it had been a relief to talk to someone like it was no big deal, and maybe that politeness meant she ought to give Nadia the benefit of the doubt.

  But the car had flown. For sure. Verlaine didn’t doubt that for a second.

  And there was no reason for Nadia to deny that it had, unless she was the person responsible.

  Maybe Verlaine was dreaming it. Making it up.

  But she didn’t think so.

  Something weird was going on. Deeply weird. And Nadia was at the heart of it.

  In other words—something interesting was finally happening.

  Standing there next to her banged-up car, dirt and leaves still in her hair, Verlaine started to grin.

  Nadia rushed blindly away, her head whirling. She knows. Don’t be stupid, she doesn’t know. Unless she’s stupid, she knows. You did magic in front of someone outside the Craft, and then you got too upset to cover your tracks, and now you’re exposed.

  But she had to stay calm. Mom had always said that most people exposed to magic ended up explaining it away. They didn’t believe in supernatural forces, so experiencing them made them wonder if they were going crazy. Nobody wanted to think they were going crazy. So they made up lies to believe in instead. I was imagining things. A trick of the light. Just the wind.

  Steadier now, Nadia adjusted her backpack and tried to figure out how far she was from her house—only to realize she had no idea where she was.

  She’d thought it would be easy to get back home, and it should have been. But Nadia hadn’t been paying attention when she dashed away from Verlaine, had taken a wrong turn, and now was in a totally unfamiliar area. Not surprising, given that almost all of Captive’s Sound besides her house, the high school, and the grocery store were unfamiliar at this point. But she’d thought it was too tiny to even get lost in. Apparently not.

  Okay, she told herself. No big deal. This whole town would fit in Lincoln Park. Walk long enough and you’ll see a place you recognize.

  Of course, in Chicago she could have hopped on a bus, or hailed a cab....

  Never mind. If worse came to worst, she could call her dad to pick her up, but that would only make him feel like he had to worry about her. Dad had enough to deal with. She was supposed to be taking care of him and Cole, not the other way around.

  So she wandered through the streets of Captive’s Sound, the first time she’d ever explored it on foot.

  And as she went, she realized more and more … something wasn’t right. The weirdness she’d sensed here didn’t begin with the magical barrier or end with whatever was beneath the chem lab. No, the entire town was—sick.

  The grass had a yellow cast, and lay limply upon the ground. Every tree seemed to be on the verge of death, with straggly branches and chipped, grayish bark. The sky was darker than it should have been in midafternoon, though maybe that was because it looked likely to rain anytime now. Signs of disrepair were everywhere: The pavement was cracked, the curbs overgrown with straggly weeds. The dank mood seemed to have affected the residents, too; only a handful of houses appeared to have been painted in the last twenty years. Most of the homes, however apparently large or elegant, were chipped and faded. Nobody cared about how it looked. Nobody cared about Captive’s Sound.

  Nadia remembered the magical barrier at the edge of town. She looked again at the battered, depressed town that surrounded her.

  From the crash, she’d known something powerful was in this town. But what if that powerful force was … draining Captive’s Sound? Dragging it down?

  In her mind flashed the image of the ground caving in beneath Verlaine’s car, and she shuddered.

  A motorcycle’s engine growled along behind her, slowed as it drew closer, and then came to a stop beside her. Nadia’s eyes widened as the driver removed his helmet and she saw Mateo.

  “Hey,” he said. “You look—lost, I guess.”

  “That obvious, huh?”

  Given everything she was attempting to deal with, it should have taken more than a hot guy to make her smile. Yet Nadia knew she’d started smiling.

  Mateo didn’t appear to be equally thrilled to see her; in fact, he couldn’t quite meet her eyes, like he was trying to avoid Nadia’s gaze. But he’d stopped for her, hadn’t he? “Okay, tell me where you live. I could—I can give you a ride. And then you’ll know how to get back home after that.”

  Nadia tucked a lock of her long hair behind one ear. “So, do you do this rescue thing full-time?”

  That made him grin—but only for a moment, because he quickly glanced away again. “I was going to drop by and see Elizabeth.” Mateo pointed at a house farther down the street, off by itself and even more gray and lonely than the rest. “But I’ve got a minute.”

  Of course he was going to see his girlfriend. Because on top of being hot and courageous, Mateo was also an awesome boyfriend. Of course.

  Still, it was stupid to pass up a lift home, right?

  “You’re on,” Nadia said. “I live on Felicity Street—right by the park. And thanks.”

  “No problem. Hop on.” Mateo paused, then held out his black helmet. “You should wear this.”

  “Thanks.” Nadia slid the heavy thing onto her head, wondering if it made her look dorky—but there was no way she’d turn down an offer that chivalrous. Then she slipped one leg over the bike and settled into the seat right behind Mateo. Her legs were pressed against his legs, her belly against his back.

  “Hang on,” he said just before he gunned the engine back to life, and Nadia brought her hands to his waist, tangling her fingers in the belt loops of his jeans. Then they were rolling—and to her, it felt like flying. Mateo’s deep brown hair ruffled in the breeze, and Nadia wished she lived farther away so the ride could last longer.

  Much farther away. Say, maybe, California.

  Stop it, she told herself, even as they rounded a corner and she slid her arms around his waist to hold on tighter. He’s not available. Nor was he likely to be, seeing as how he was devoted to his gorgeous girlfriend.

  But at least she could enjoy the ride.

  Mateo found her house disap
pointingly fast, bringing his motorcycle to a stop right in front. “You guys took this place, huh?” he said as Nadia tugged the helmet off and hoped she didn’t have crazy hat hair. “I’ve always liked it.”

  “Yeah, it’s great. Kind of old and creaky, but that makes it cozy.” Their house was a little run-down, too, but it looked more comfortable than ratty, unlike the rest of Captive’s Sound. Then again, other people’s houses probably looked like that to them.

  Her father appeared at the front door, and while he didn’t do anything as embarrassing as walking out and demanding an introduction, he did wave.

  “Gotta go,” she said in a hurry. “Thanks for the rescue. Again.”

  “You’ll be able to find your way from now on.” Something about the way Mateo said that sounded so weirdly final—but he simply lifted one hand in a farewell before putting the helmet back on and driving off.

  Dad came up beside her as she watched him go. “Honey, I’m not sure about you riding a motorcycle.”

  “I had on a helmet,” Nadia protested. “We weren’t going fast.”

  He nodded in a way that told her he was willing to let it go … this time. “So, I see you’ve already made a friend. A guy friend.” Dad smirked, like this was teasing her instead of checking the guy out; really, it was both.

  “That’s Mateo. From the night of the wreck.”

  “He goes to your school?” Dad peered after him. “You should’ve asked Mateo in, honey; I’d have liked to thank him. That was amazing, what he did that night.”

  “He was in a hurry,” Nadia said, walking toward the door with him. “I just caught a ride.”

  “Well, if that’s the kind of boy you’re going to be bringing home, I approve.”

  “Dad. Mateo’s—it’s not like that. He has a girlfriend already.” For the first time, Nadia realized her father was wearing an apron. “And hey, I told you I’d be home in time to make dinner.”