Before I hit the bottom step, I focus all the pent-up fear and rage into the center of the room. A fireball explodes in midair, hanging there like a sun. Screams and shouts of surprise rise up, but instead of causing the hot sphere to lessen, their fright pushes me to expand it. By the time my foot hits the basement floor, the glowing ball is at least five feet in diameter. The heat is incredible, but I feel it only peripherally—like sunshine through a window. Holding my hand out in front of me, I squeeze my fingers, sucking the room’s oxygen into the fire.
Griffin is pressed against the floor, covering his head with his arms. Crystal, Lexie, and Bridget cower against the couch cushions. Fox scrambles over the chair he’s in, backing as far away from the heat as possible. Zane gapes, frozen in his place on his usual armchair. His chest heaves, struggling to draw breath. I curl my fingers again, claiming more oxygen.
“You think it’s funny?” I scream. “Flames burning your skin, black smoke filling your lungs? You think it’s okay to leave someone gasping for air? Tell me now! Is it funny? Do you like it?”
Fox stumbles forward, heading for me while keeping as much distance between himself and the fireball as possible. His hand clutches his neck as he takes clumsy, labored steps. “Krissa, stop it!” he gasps, placing himself between me and the rest of the circle.
“Get back, Fox,” I snap. “You’re one of them. You made your choice. I’m not gonna feel guilty on account of a bunch of murderers.”
“What are you talking about?” Lexie squeals.
Crystal and Bridget murmur a counter-spell from their spot on the couch and I feel a flickering in my control on the fireball in the center of the room. Any other day, the two of them working together coupled with the fact that they’re anchored to the crystal would make them stronger than me. But today is not any other day. My fear and rage feed into my natural abilities and instead of the flame dimming, it expands, causing the girls to shriek and the guys to call out. Fox’s eyes go wide and he takes my hands, pulling them until I’m looking at him.
“Krissa, talk to me! What is going on?”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know!” I point at Zane. “He almost killed Felix tonight!”
“Wait—what?” Fox pulls my face around, forcing me to look at him again. “What happened to Felix?” His stormy eyes are wide, afraid—like they were earlier today during the incident with Zane. His confusion, shock, and fear hit me square in the heart. He has no idea what I’m talking about.
The rage within me fizzles, replaced by the image of Felix’s still body on the floor of his charred kitchen. The fireball disappears in the blink of an eye, leaving the room feeling twenty degrees cooler in its absence. I fall to my knees, covering my face with my hands. “There was a fire at Felix’s house, and it was magic—I felt it. Someone tried to kill him with magic.”
Fox crouches beside me. “It wasn’t us.”
Tears prickle my eyes and I rub at them. “You expect me to believe you?”
He presses his hands to my cheeks. “Of course you can believe me. Krissa, you know me.”
His emotions radiate off him, but I do my best to ignore them, too angry to allow myself to feel bad about what I just did. I push his hands away. “I thought I did, but I’m not so sure anymore. The crystal’s changed you, Fox. It’s changed you all.”
Lexie snorts, her earlier loss of composure forgotten. “This again? Really?”
I press myself to standing, backing away from Fox. “Even if it wasn’t you who attacked Felix, it doesn’t change the fact that Zane tried to strangle me and Felix and Bria at school today. Fox, you saw it. And Bridget knocked Dana Crawford down a flight of stairs last week. Zane lit a guy’s car on fire.” I connect with each set of eyes, but, save Fox, no one looks the least bit abashed. “You can’t even see it, can you? You’re all just embracing the darkness? Well, you’d better pay attention to this: I’m going to stop you. No matter how strong or powerful you are, I’ll find a way to stop you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Instead of seeing a movie, Bria, West, and I spend the majority of the night at the hospital, where Felix is treated for smoke inhalation. His mother, who sits in the waiting room with us, is beside herself. She and Felix fought earlier about his suspension, and she’d been so angry she had to leave the house to cool off. She keeps murmuring things about how “if only she’d been there” this wouldn’t have happened. The three of us try to comfort her as best we can, but all I can think is that if she’d been there, she may have been hurt, too.
Bria’s mom is working and, even though it’s against the rules, she lets us in to see Felix before shooing us home. His complexion is ashy and his eyes are red and irritated, but he smiles when he sees us. The three of us were split about whether or not to tell Felix our suspicions, but West and I outvoted Bria and we told him about the fire having been produced by a spell.
“Zane?” he asks, his voice hoarse.
I shake my head. “That was my first thought, too. But Fox honestly seemed to have no idea what I was talking about when I confronted them.”
“They could’ve been lying.”
West laughs. “I think they were too busy crapping themselves to lie.”
I’m torn between smiling and vomiting at the memory of the fireball I conjured. I’m still not sure how far I was willing to go before Fox got me to stop. It’s Fox’s face that swims in my vision, giving me pause. He was terrified this afternoon when Zane was attacking us. He wanted to stop Zane then, but he couldn’t. And when I accused the circle of hurting Felix, he looked legitimately bewildered. “I’m not saying I think they’re entirely innocent. I’m just saying we can’t take for granted it’s them.”
At this, we all fall silent. As much as I want to believe that the circle hasn’t escalated its violence to the level of murder, I don’t like the idea that there’s an unknown entity out there.
That night, I barely sleep, and when I do, my dreams fill with flames. If it’s not the circle doing it, then who? And why? Is Bria right—is the connection that the victims all have been from founding families? If so, does that make me a target? Or my mom or Jodi?
At five in the morning, I send a text to Seth asking about his progress finding a spell to disconnect the circle from the crystal. Even if they’re not behind what’s been happening, I still don’t like the idea of them being anchored to the stone any longer than necessary. Whether or not they’re behind the magic that’s killing founding family members, there’s still darkness in their spells, and I don’t want to give it the chance to escalate any further.
I doze after that, slipping into a dreamless sleep. When I open my eyes, my room is filled with sunlight and I blink a few times before I can focus on the time on my phone. Eight seventeen. Panic flares—I’m late for school—before I remember I’m suspended.
The house is quiet—Mom and Jodi are already at work. Mom left a note on the refrigerator informing me about our meeting with Crystal Taylor after school.
Seth texts back around nine. I’ve had no luck yet, but I may be on to something. Believe me, if this crystal is what you say it is, I want nothing more than to find this spell.
No sooner do I read this text than another arrives: When the time comes, I hope you’re ready.
His words resound in my brain. Am I ready? Whatever this spell is, it’ll probably be complex and difficult. Will I be able to do it? I can do simple spells now without much effort, but since I’ve been spending time with the psychics, I’ve been mostly neglecting developing my magic. Last night’s fireball was the biggest thing I’ve ever done, and I’m not sure I could repeat it on demand.
With nothing else on my agenda today, I spend the time practicing. Simple glamors come as easily as breathing now, but I haven’t been able to repeat a complete makeover that sticks since the day I used the crystal. I’m still in my pajamas and use magic to change the look of my clothes. It sticks until I try conjuring a palm-sized fireball, so I try again.
; When I run out of ideas to try, I scour the internet for suggestions, laughing at some of the more fanciful—turning into a crow—and trying others. I spend some time in the greenhouse, managing to make a basil plant double in size. I find some palm-sized quartz crystals in a box in the corner and practice charging a chunk of rose quartz with energy. Since Seth’s ability to use magic is limited, maybe I can give him a stone to help focus his power.
I sit on the couch, reading different articles about storing energy in crystals and practicing charging the rose quartz with magic before discharging it again. By the time I hear a car door slam in the driveway, I feel accomplished, like I’ve learned more today than I have all year at school.
Mom pushes open the front door and a gust of cold air follows her in. My stomach clenches. By the time I got back from the hospital, she was in bed, but Jodi said she told her everything. I pressed her for Mom’s reaction to learning her daughter’s a psychic witch, but Jodi claimed she couldn’t get a read. Now I watch Mom’s face for a hint about what she’s thinking. I could try to pick up on her emotions, but I’m afraid of what I might sense.
Mom uses a hand to straighten her ruffled hair, pausing to smile when she catches my eye. I relax, smiling back, until her expression flickers, her eyebrows pulling together. “Where’d you get that outfit?”
“Oh.” After practicing, holding onto a glamor without thinking about it became easier. Right now, I’m in a pair of high-waisted, wide-leg cream pants and a green blouse with puffy sleeves—something I saw in one of Jodi’s magazines on the coffee table. I exhale and the glamor falls, leaving me in a plain tee-shirt and jeans.
Mom gasps, her hand flying to her mouth and my muscles tense, my mind spinning. Why did I do that? Am I trying to freak her out? I open my mouth, ready to apologize, but mom lets out a short laugh. “Wow. That was pretty much the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I smile, too, but the expression slips almost instantly and I’m crying, my knees buckling. Before I fall, Mom is beside me, her arms around me, holding me up. She ushers me toward the couch and we both sink down onto it. She holds me close, rubbing my back with one hand and patting my hair with the other.
When my tears subside, she asks, “What’s wrong, honey?”
I wipe my eyes. “I was afraid you’d think I’m a freak.”
She puts her hands on my shoulders, holding me out so she can look at my face. “Oh, hon. Let’s be honest. I always knew you were a freak.” After a beat, she grins and I swat at her.
“Not cool, Mom.” My eyes prickle again, but it’s a laugh, not a sob, that rises in my throat.
She strokes my cheek, her face serious. “You’re my daughter. There’s nothing you could do or be that would make me love you any less.” Her mouth twitches, like she’s holding something back.
I scan her thoughts without making a conscious effort to do so, pulling back only when I brush against the thing that’s keeping her silent. “What about Dad?”
Her eyes widen with surprise before she sighs, shaking her head. “Before he left, he told me you were different. Special. He didn’t explain what that meant, but he told me to move you here, that Jodi would be a good influence.”
My mind struggles to file this information. Did Dad tell her this in the other reality, too? I can’t imagine he did—otherwise, why did we stay in Fraser? But what’s different here that would’ve made him tell us to move? Does my father know what Jodi is—what I am? If so, how is that different from before? Except that now, Jodi still practices magic; in the other timeline, she didn’t.
“That being said,” Mom continues, “I think we need to lay some ground rules about you mind-reading me or whatever it is you do.”
I bite my lower lip. “Yeah, sorry about that. Sometimes it just happens. I’ll try not to.”
She sighs. “Some moms worry about their kids doing drugs. I worry about mine scanning my thoughts.”
We laugh and she pulls me into a hug. I lean into her, breathing in the scent of her shampoo—vanilla. I close my eyes, slipping my arms around her back and pulling her close. I love her so much. No matter what complications there are now from bringing the crystal back, they’re all worth it just for this. I have my mom, a fact I’ll never take for granted again. I’ve regretted going to the past for the crystal so many times since we did the spell, but this one moment eclipses all those others.
The front door opens and Mom and I separate. “I’m here!” Jodi calls. “Let’s go or we’ll be late.”
On the way to the school, Jodi insists she should be the one to talk to Crystal Taylor. “I’ve known her the longest. I might be able to reason with her.”
The parking lot is less than half-full when we arrive. Most students have already cleared out for the day, leaving teachers and students sticking around for tutoring or clubs. Jodi parks in one of the spots up front reserved for guests and we head for the main office.
Crystal Taylor is waiting for us. Her eyes narrow momentarily when she sees Jodi, but the expression passes quickly and she offers a warm smile, shaking hands with Mom and Jodi in turn. I only know Jodi’s history with Crystal Taylor up until the night of the fire—the night Crystal Jamison and I went back in time. They were part of the same circle, but Jodi was against her friend’s quest for more magic and refused to take part in the spell that ultimately caused the fire. A pang shoots through me as I sit down, realizing my relationship with my circle, with Crystal Jamison, is an echo of that past.
Crystal Taylor settles in her chair, her eyes on my mom. “I understand you have some questions about Kristyl’s suspension.”
“Yeah,” Jodi says, drawing the principal’s attention. “We were wondering exactly what she’s suspended for.”
“Aggressive behavior.” She says it as if it should be obvious.
Jodi crosses her arms over her chest. “What behavior, exactly?”
The corners of Crystal Taylor’s mouth downturn. “She and two friends were ganging up on another student. Luckily, I arrived before they could attack him.”
Jodi doesn’t disguise a snort. “Attack? From what I understand, it was Zane Ross doing the attacking.”
The principal sighs. “You honestly believe their story? That Zane was choking all three of them at once? He wasn’t even anywhere near them—”
“You can stop pretending,” Jodi snaps. “I know you know. We all know.”
“Jodi, please—”
“Please what? Ignore the fact that you’ve got a problem of a magical variety going on here? Look, I wasn’t there. Maybe Krissa and her friends did do something to piss Zane off. Not that I believe that, but let’s just go with that for argument’s sake. Nothing—nothing—gives him the right to strangle people.”
Crystal Taylor shakes her head. “Sometimes kids do stupid things. They don’t always think.”
“And that’s an excuse? Tell me, Crystal—did you suspend Zane?”
Her eyes flicker down to the desktop. A confession. “I told him on no uncertain terms that misuse of magic like that won’t be tolerated.”
The injustice of the situation rankles and I can’t keep quiet. “But you are tolerating it. You’re punishing me and my friends when all we did was stop ourselves from getting killed!”
“Please, don’t be dramatic. I highly doubt—”
“You weren’t there. It was like a giant snake was squeezing the air out of my lungs. Zane wasn’t going to stop.”
Jodi leans forward. “You, of all people, know what that kind of power can do to your mind. You tore our circle apart—you burned down your house, for crying out loud!”
Crystal Taylor rolls her shoulders, her expression tightening. “I’m not interested in discussing the past. You came here to talk about your niece’s suspension. We’ve talked. She and her friends can return to school on Friday.” She stands, extending an arm toward the door. “If there’s nothing else—”
“Like hell,” Jodi growls, also rising. “We’re not being dismissed here. K
ristyl’s suspension stands? Fine. Bullshit, but fine. But when she gets back, you’d better make sure certain students understand this building is, on no uncertain terms, a magic-free zone. If you don’t—if anything happens to her—there will be hell to pay, Crystal. Bet on it.” Jodi nods at Mom and me and we take her cue to leave.
Jodi seethes on the way to the car and Mom insists Jodi hand over the keys, that she’s far too upset to drive. Jodi doesn’t fight, and the whole way home, her anger radiates off her in waves. There’s no doubt in my mind her threat was serious, and I can’t help wondering what kind of hell she plans to unleash if Crystal Taylor can’t meet her demands.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I’m in my room after dinner when Mom’s voice drifts upstairs. “Krissa, there’s someone at the door for you.”
Before I get to the bottom stair, I know it’s Fox standing on my front porch. I hesitate. What could he be doing here? Is this about last night? Does he have a message for me from the circle? I cross to the door and nod, a tacit invitation for Fox to enter the house. As Mom closes the door behind him, I incline my head toward the stairs. After a beat, she nods and I lead the way up to my room. I perch on the edge of my bed and Fox grabs the desk chair, setting it three feet in front of me.
“Hey,” I say as he sits.
He exhales noisily, running both hands through his hair. “Krissa,” he breathes, propping his elbows on his thighs.
I wait, but he doesn’t continue. I press forward with my abilities just enough to get a sense of his emotions and am surprised when it’s guilt and shame that rush to the forefront. Was he lying last night when he said he didn’t know what happened to Felix? “Fox, what’s going on?”
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