Her Stolen Magic

by Zandra Pope

  “You have a what? A problem with the IRS?” he grinned.

  “What?” I said, confused.

  “You have a pet werewolf?”

  He was teasing me.

  “Never mind,” I said, pulling him toward Ava and Tabby.

  Of course, Chase did a double take when he saw Ava.

  “Guys, meet Chase. He saved me after Jeremy brained me.”

  “Hey,” Jeremy held out his hand and struck his best bro stance.

  “Great shot,” said Chase. “But keep an eye out. Greta almost got a concussion.”

  Jeremy snorted and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into him and giving me a noogie. I winced as he rubbed the lump on my head. “Greta’s fine. She can take it. Can’t you? She’s used to falling over.”

  The rest of the team, who had witnessed me falling off the sidewalk, all chuckled. I laughed along with them.

  “Yup. I’m a klutz.”

  Chase pulled me away from Jeremy, annoyance flaring in his eyes. “Stop rubbing her head. You just hurt her.”

  Jeremy’s eyes flashed with anger and his chin jerked toward Chase. It looked like he wanted to throw a punch, but his arms stayed at his side.

  “Bro, don’t overreact. Greta and I are good.”

  “Bro, you owe her an apology,” countered Chase.

  “I’m fine.” The tips of my ears turned fire-hot and the rest of my body followed suit. “Jeremy was just messing around.”

  “Chase is right. Jeremy, tell her you’re sorry.” Ava put her hands on her hips.

  I wanted to melt into the floor. “It’s not a big deal,” I said.

  “See,” Jeremy held out his hands toward me. “She doesn’t care.”

  “Well, I do,” said Chase taking a step toward Jeremy. The basketball star towered over Chase, but Chase more than made up for his lack of stature with a muscular build.

  “Don’t try me, bro,” growled Jeremy.

  Ava stepped in between the two guys, who were having a gorgeous eye glaring contest. “Just apologize, Jeremy.”

  Jeremy reached past Ava and shoved Chase. “Fine,” he said. “Sorry Greta.” He didn’t look at me. He glared at Chase, his eyes willing the new guy to burst into flame. Meanwhile, my insides were burning up. Embarrassment, crushing on Jeremy, having a new guy stand up for me — I was on overload.

  Chase balled his fists, but he didn’t retaliate. I tugged at his shirt again. “I’ll show you to class.” I made my voice casual. “See you guys around.”

  Chase and I walked off, followed by Ava and Tabby. The basketball players watched us, arms crossed.

  I prayed that I hadn’t just screwed up my chance with Jeremy.

  3

  The next morning I was up at 4:30.

  Ava groaned and pulled her pillow over her face. “Go back to bed.”

  “Gotta get ready,” I sang.

  I put on makeup and pulled my hair into a high ponytail that made my scalp ache, but looked very cute. I considered shaving my legs, because someone once told me you should always shave before a date, but since this was a pre-date, or whatever, and it was just a run, I pulled on a pair of yoga pants and called it done. He wasn’t going to see my legs. I could shave when I got back to the dorm.

  Ava sat up as I left the room.

  “Have fun,” she called, her hair sticking up all over her head. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  I grinned. “Considering you don’t run, I’m not going to follow that advice.”

  I met Jeremy outside his dorm.

  “Verity,” he called. “Looking good.”

  I thrilled at his compliment. “I get up looking like this.”

  He laughed. “Me too.”

  “I believe it.” I teased, surveying his wrinkled basketball shorts and bed head.

  We did an easy jog through the Slip and to the C&O Canal path.

  “Is this, like, where you can see President Obama’s ghost?”

  The girl asking chewed her gum like it was powering her earbuds. Her rolled and wrinkled copy of D.C. Walking Ghost Tour looked like she had used it more as a bug swatter than as an actual guide.

  “Obama is, like, still alive,” I told her.

  The girl blinked her eyes. “What?”

  “Barack Obama isn’t a ghost.”

  She blinked again. “What?”

  I pulled one of her earbuds out and said, “Yes. He usually shows up near that tree in about one hour.”

  “Cool.”

  I rolled my eyes after I walked away from her.

  Jeremy waited impatiently, jogging in place.

  “Greta,” he said. “What was that about?”

  “Tourist. Ghost hunting.”

  “Let’s pick up the pace,” he said.

  We didn’t get far before we encountered far more trouble than a culturally illiterate tourist.

  The C&O Canal Path, our normal running circuit, was a scenic walk-way along the Potomac River. Tourists, cyclists (don’t call them bikers), couriers, baby joggers, newly elected politicians, career politicians, legislative assistants, and lobbyists populated the path from pre-dawn until well after-dusk.

  The path was crowded with people out for an early run. The Potomac River sparkled in the golden morning sun, not looking a bit like a waterway overrun by toxic chemicals and snakehead fish.

  Everyone who lives here knows you don’t swim in the Potomac because it’s a festering cesspool of dysentery. Oh, and it’s been invaded by these weird fish called snakeheads that have legs and can walk on land.

  Riiiiiight.

  What’s really in those murky waters? Waters so black that divers have a hard time doing rescues. It’s a river, people. We’re not talking ocean depths. Why is it so hard to retrieve bodies, perform rescues, even see into the water?

  No, not Grindylows. I read Harry Potter, too. Hufflepuff forever. But Grindylows don’t live in America. They’re British.

  Not Chessie either. Chessie is the Chesapeake’s answer to the Loch Ness monster. The Potomac is not the Chesapeake. Wrong body of water.

  The problem with the Potomac River was water witches. Not witches with pointy hats and brooms and black cats. Witches in the sense of evil supernatural being. These witches were ancient evil water dwellers. If they had an internet dating profile, it would read: I like long swims in the Potomac River. Dark, cold water caves. And eating children. The cuter the better.

  Swipe right on that hottie.

  Water witches looked like shiny gray snakes with feet. Ahem. Instead, you were supposed to believe these things were snakehead fish. Totally not. They were water witches, and they were freaking lethal.

  Running along the C&O Canal Path, minding my business, I spied a water witch climbing out of the water. They never come out in broad daylight. Never.

  As soon as I saw it I slowed, elbowing Jeremy and jerking my head toward the creature. He caught my look and nodded.

  This one must have been starving or crazy — maybe both. It slithered onto the shore, blinking its black beady eyes rapidly and sniffing the air.

  “What the eff,” he said. He really said ‘eff.’ That was one more reason I had a mad crush on him. He never dropped the whole f-bomb — just little hints of it. Adorable.

  The water witch slid off a rock and waddled further onto shore. Guess where it was headed? That’s right, a kid. Some sweet dad had taken his baby out in a lovely designer baby jogger along the scenic Potomac River. The dad had run into a college buddy of his, by the look of things. Back to his baby, the man chatted cluelessly with his friend.

  The water witch sensed this. It had the patience of a predatory animal — because that’s what it had become.

  Acting quickly, because I only had seconds, I edged off the path into the grassy bank of the river. I crept up on the water witch from behind. The witch moved with a calculated, oily grace, half slithering, half gliding on its four little feet. Feet that once upon a time in its evolution were human.

  The witc
h watched the baby, black beady eyes darting from the stroller to the dad, waiting for the right moment to strike. Its wide mouth turned upward into a slick grin, revealing needle-sharp teeth. Teeth that would make quick work of tender baby skin.

  My stomach lurched.

  I dared to creep closer, ducking under a low dogwood branch, careful not to touch it. I didn’t want to alert the water witch or the baby’s dad to my presence. The water witch, for obvious reasons. The dad, well, what would you do if you saw a teenage girl who looked like vaguely like a troll creeping up on your baby jogger? Exactly. I didn’t want the cops called. That never ended well.

  The evil creature hunched its back legs. Its body tensed as it prepared to strike.

  Before it sprang for the baby, I dove for the witch’s tail. It spotted me, twisting its backside out of reach. Hissing and spitting like a pissed off cat, the water witch lunged, its gaping mouth aimed at my face.

  Wheeling backward, I cracked my head against the dogwood. Temporarily blinded by pain, stars danced in front of my eyes for the second time in two days. I needed to stop hitting my head on stuff. I had no idea where the water witch was, but I knew it was close.

  Those needle-like teeth sank into my bare calf. I stifled a scream and shook off the dazzling pain. I didn’t want to cause a scene. Causing a scene in front of non-magicals would get me written up. The last thing I needed was another violation in my file.

  Thankfully, and also embarrassingly, Jeremy came to my rescue.

  My vision cleared, and I saw Jeremy standing over me. He said, “Paralyze.” The water witch convulsed, and its mouth sank deeper into my calf.

  “Get it off,” I hissed.

  Jeremy pulled at it. It’s teeth raked through my skin.

  “Release,” I said gritting my teeth, wishing I had magic right now.

  “Oh yeah. Release.”

  With a gurgle, it released my leg and its slimy, gray body went still. Thin streaks of blood trickled through a jagged hole in my yoga pants.

  Grabbing the limp body with my right hand, I twisted it. With a sickening crack and a dull pop, the snake-like head detached from the body. Jeremy took the body and threw it into the Potomac. I tucked the head into my jacket pocket.

  Before you freak out and accuse me of being a serial killer who keeps mementos of my kills, I should explain that water witches can reanimate. Even if they are decapitated, they can knit themselves back together in the first twelve hours of appendage separation — according to Merlin’s Deadliest Magical Creatures, sixty-sixth edition. I threw its head into the water so it wouldn’t regenerate. If I left its head on the path, even hidden in the tall brush, some passer by would see it or be coaxed by its residual dark magic to toss the head into the river. So, I pocketed the head, planning to dispose of it when I got back to school.

  All of this went down in a matter of seconds. I tried to be quiet, but it’s hard not to make a noise when you’re attacked by something. As I shoved the water witch’s head into my pocket, the baby’s dad turned, alarm on his florid face.

  Thinking fast I said, “Cute kid. A word of advice. Your vascular system is in trouble.” I made a motion over my face. “You’re bright red. Cut out the sugar. Increase the good fats. Have a healthy day.”

  Jeremy and I headed back to the path and broke into an easy jog.

  “Why d’you say that to him?”

  “Did you see him? He’ll die of a heart attack if he doesn’t lay off the bagels and cream cheese.”

  “Since when do you care about nutrition?”

  “Since never. It was a masterful misdirection.” Misdirection was an essential skill that required complete mastery if I wanted to use magic in the world at large.

  “Ohhhh, right. Nice one. I’m getting bad marks in all my non-magical classes. I prefer shooting stuff from my fingertips. BAM!” He wiggled his fingers in front of him with a big grin on his face. He enjoyed using his magical powers.

  “I like the non-magical side,” I lied, not wanting to tip Jeremy off to the fact that I hadn’t come into my powers yet. “It’s more art than BAM!”

  “BAM is more fun.”

  “Kepler’s Code of Magical Ethics urges us to make non-magical defense our first line of defense.”

  “Hermione,” he teased.

  But I wasn’t anything like her. I wasn’t naturally smart. I worked hard to memorize the things I needed so I could fake my magic until I got it.

  For the next two miles, Jeremy and I didn’t talk. We ran - hard. Adrenaline coursed through my body and dulled the pain from the bite. We pushed a 5:30 pace until we got to the zoo. I gave myself a little pat on the back for keeping that pace with Jeremy.

  Jeremy was over six feet tall — well over. I was five foot three. Keeping pace with a giant wasn’t easy, but I did it. Running was the one thing I was good at. Even so, as a short girl with stubby legs, it was a challenge to keep pace with a dude on the basketball team.

  After we jogged to a stop, Jeremy leaned over and braced his hands on his knees. Sweat beaded on his brow. His gorgeous eyes closed as he gulped air.

  I braced myself against a thick tree and stretched my calves. The bite throbbed. I rolled up my yoga pant to expose the bite.

  “Whoa,” Jeremy said eyeing my leg.

  Self-consciously, I snapped at him. “I didn’t shave today. Don’t act like you’ve never seen ugly legs before.”

  “I was talking about the hole in your leg, Greta. Don’t be so defensive.”

  He knelt on one knee and leaned closer to my wounded leg. Hugely uncomfortable, I pushed him away and hid my hurt leg behind my other leg. “It’s fine. I’ll check-in with the nurse.”

  Certain I smelled awful — like sweat and cheese — I didn’t want Jeremy to see the acne on my legs in addition to stubble.

  “Hey. It’s nothing,” He adjusted his sunglasses, squinting over the tops to get a better look. “There’s bad bruising. The bite is red and swollen. You’re getting infected. If you don’t know healing spells, I can do one.”

  I shifted from one foot to the other remembering the way Chase had done healing magic on me yesterday. It was really nice to have a guy take care of me. I bet it would be even better if it was Jeremy.

  Plus, my leg was killing me! Once my adrenaline rush wore off, pain set in hard and fast.

  “Do you have to touch my leg? I mean, I didn’t shave, and it’s gross.” My massive crush on Jeremy made the idea of him healing my leg simultaneously awesome and terrifying.

  “Greta,” Jeremy was offended. “Do you think I’m that shallow? I’ve wrestled bears far hairier than your legs. My stubble grows so fast, I’ve got a five o’clock shadow by three.”

  “Don’t let anyone see,” I warned. Even though a large azalea bush blocked us from view, public magic had risks. Today, pedestrians hurried past us, eyes never leaving their phones, eager to get to work or school.

  Jeremy examined my leg.

  “Do you have to look at it so closely?” I complained.

  He gave a little laugh-snort. “Shut up. You’re being super annoying.” My cheeks burned. I was being stupid, and I felt stupid, just like yesterday when I walked off the sidewalk and fell on my face.

  “The new headmaster at the school is a jerk,” he said in an attempt to distract me.

  “The school year got off to a slow start. It happens when new people take over. My dad talks about it happening all the time in the government. He says it’s a temporary destabilization while the new people figure out how to work within the system.”

  He placed his fingertips on my wounded calf. His touch was cold. I winced, more from the idea of him touching my unshaven leg than the anticipation of pain. I mean, let’s be honest, it’s more painful to have a cute boy touch your unshaven leg than one bitten by a water witch.

  “My mom works in the school administration. She said he’s introducing a list of new rules because of the library fire yesterday. It’s massive.”

  Jeremy’s heal
ing magic flowed from his fingertips into my leg with a slight greenish glow to his fingertips. If I could be close to Jeremy’s for the rest of my life, I would be happy, even if the school had five hundred rules I had to follow.

  “What do you think of The Red Scare?” I asked.

  Jeremy shrugged, still working his magic on my wounded leg. “Useful idiots,” he snorted.

  “Useful? What do you mean?”

  “Uh, does this hurt?” he pressed against the bite wound, hard.

  I yelped. “Yes!”

  Wanting to take my mind off the pain, I continued to babble about The Red Scare. “I think they’re misguided. I mean, they say they’re for equality between magicals and non-magicals. Equality is a good thing, but I don’t think not having magic automatically makes non-magicals unequal to magicals. Right?”

  Jeremy grunted in agreement. Encouraged by our intelligent, politically charged conversation, I kept going. “They were wrong to use —” I tried to say werewolf but the word stuck. “They were wrong to use force. You can’t be for equality and kill people.”

  I was torn between hoping this moment would never end and desperately wanting Jeremy to get away from me before I farted or did something equally horrible. He was so close to me I could feel warmth cascading from his body. He was hot from the run and just hot in general.

  I wished he didn’t cover his gorgeous brown eyes so much. They reminded me of dishes of chocolate ice cream. He had a strong jaw that pulsed when he was angry. Brown hair, short in the back, but with a fun tussled wave that flopped over his eyes when he leaned forward. He was leaning forward now. He smelled musky and spicy, handsome.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled, forgetting myself and sighing — out loud.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  My eyes snapped open. Oh gosh! He heard me sigh! “What? No. Why?”

  “You made a noise.”

  “I did? Are you sure?”

  He gave me a funny look. It was a half smile, sort of embarrassed, sort of blushing. I’d never seen him make that face before. Oh no. He knew I liked him. This was horrible.

  I kept on talking. “Just felt — my leg — pain stopped.” My words weren’t working.