Her Stolen Magic

by Zandra Pope

  Ava was bad. Valerian was good. Everything I thought I knew had been turned on its head. My life would never be the same.

  I spent the day watching the clock. I couldn’t go to class with Ava gone. No one else knew my secret — well, besides Chase and the creeper who had left the parchment on my pillow. If anyone asked me to do magic, I’d be discovered and executed.

  Maybe this was all part of what Knavish and Von Koffle had been plotting. Ava was the most powerful magical student at Illysian. Maybe they wanted her out of the picture.

  I bit my nails to the quick and slipped into morose thoughts about Ava’s fate. Was she being tortured? What happened during house arrest? Had the school called our parents? The police? The Tribunal?

  At two o’clock in the afternoon, the school broadcast a security warning. The thunderous voice of Dr. Knavish sounded in every nook and cranny of the school property:

  Attention! All students are to return immediately to their dorms. No immediate threat has been detected. Please proceed calmly.

  My cell phone blew up with texts from my friends, professors, and the administration.

  IA: Stay indoors until the all clear is given.

  IA: Do not attempt to go outside.

  Hannah: Awesome. No classes!

  Bianca: Thank god! I forgot to do my history.

  IA: Do not attempt to go outside.

  Jeremy: WTF?

  IA: Security fog is being released.

  Security fog? I hadn’t heard of security fog. I sat back in my desk chair. What strange hell had I entered?

  Nevertheless, it was better for me if they canceled classes and remanded everyone to their dorms. I would blend in with everyone else, just another student in lockdown.

  I wondered if they had called the lockdown because Ava had escaped. Though it was unlikely that had happened, I imagined my willowy sister blasting those giant brutes who had dragged her away.

  As the day wore on, it occurred to me I’d have to sneak out to meet the parchment creeper. The thought made my mouth dry and my pits sweat through my shirt. If the freaking campus was on lockdown, I’d have a snowball’s chance in hell of making it to the Slip.

  Having finished biting all of my fingernails, I wandered into the suite living room. Hannah was on the couch, her feet tucked into fuzzy slippers. Dressed in yoga pants and a loose t-shirt, she had an open book on her lap.

  “Hey,” I mumbled.

  She barely looked up. “Hey.”

  Taking that as a sign that she wasn’t in the mood to talk, I paced the room trying to pass the time. Minutes lingered far longer than their allotted sixty seconds. I picked at a hangnail on my index finger.

  I paced until Hannah gave me the stink eye. Then I stood at our living room window, tapping my fingers on the sill.

  “Will you stop? You’re driving me crazy,” Hannah said.

  “Can we,” I started.

  She cut me off. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said bluntly, turning a page in her book.

  I tried to play it off. “Me either. I was just tired of being alone in my room.”

  “I’m busy, Greta.”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  I put my ear buds in and leaned on the window sill, listening to Spotify on my phone.

  Our living room overlooked The Court, a beautiful garden with winding gravel walking paths. The paths lead to different areas of Illysian Academy — the gymnasium, cafeteria, classroom, library, pool, tennis courts, the stables and riding ring, infirmary, magical resources. None of it was visible. The only thing I could see was swirling gray fog. It blanketed everything. Outside I wouldn’t be able to see my hand in front of my face.

  I checked my watch again. Time inched forward. I wondered, for the millionth time, who had left the parchment on my pillow. Why had they contacted me? What did they know about my magic? An involuntary shiver ran through me. I started biting my fingernails again. A mix of dread and anticipation rushed through my body. Tonight was either going to be very good or very bad.

  Well before midnight most of the students were asleep. It was eerily quiet for a boarding high school dorm. I attributed a lot of that to the fog. It cast a sleepy spell over everyone, dampening noises, light, the will to stay up and get into trouble.

  Hannah snored on the sofa, having given herself over to sleep long ago. A table lamp next to the sofa illuminated her Morgan’s Theory book and a thin string of silver drool stretched from her lips to the book.

  Finally, it was time for me to leave and meet the mysterious parchment magician.

  A chill gripped me again. Goosebumps paraded up and down my arms and my Witches in Chains vintage concert tee felt much too thin. I grabbed a windbreaker and pushed my bare feet into Docksiders.

  Taking a quiet, shaky breath, I eased the door to our living room open and slipped out of the suite. The dorm halls were empty and silent, deserted. I crept forward expecting a dorm monitor to pop out any minute and stop me, but no one did. I slipped out of a back door and the fog enveloped me.

  Gravel crunched under my shoes. The sound helped me orient myself to the path. The fog was so dense, I relied on my hearing since my eyes were useless. Even though the fog did dampen sound, I could hear the gravel which meant I was on the path.

  22

  The magical fog thickened in response to my presence. Foggy fingers brushed against my skin and ran through my hair. Unsettled, I rubbed my arms, trying to get the heebie-jeebies to go away.

  The fog creeped me out, but it wasn’t hurting me.

  I could get through. I had to.

  More finger-like fog tugged my hair and brushed against my cheeks. It was like the blind great uncle who wanted to give you a kiss goodbye. Gross.

  “I’m not giving up,” I whispered to the fog.

  In response to my spoken resolve, a wall of gray formed barring my path. It looked like solid concrete. The wall was damp and cool against my hand, like the skin of a dead body. How was I going to get through this with no magic? Walled in on all four sides, I was trapped.

  Then the mind games began. I struggled to breathe as the air thickened. It stung my lungs and burned my nose. The fog seemed to whisper in my ear, return home and no harm shall come to you.

  My hands balled into tight fists and I forced myself to steady my breathing. The fog was playing tricks on me.

  “It’s only fog,” I spoke into the inky darkness. My voice echoed as though I was standing over a deep canyon. Impossible and maddening.

  Removing my windbreaker, I wrapped it around my nose and mouth to filter the acidic air. Steeling myself against the clammy walls, I pressed my hands against them. Lower and lower I dropped until I found a small break in the walls. Inches above the gravel path was enough clearance to wiggle through.

  Pressing my belly to the ground I pulled myself along the path, small, sharp rocks digging into my bare forearms. The fog was thicker higher up. On the ground there was just enough room to wiggle and creep through a thin layer of fog.

  I kept my nose and mouth covered, just in case, though I could have used the jacket to cover my arms and prevent scrapes. I scrambled forward in an army crawl, on my elbows and toes. As I drew closer to the Slip the fog thinned.

  I pressed on. I had to get through. Testing the thinning fog above my head, my hand disappeared into the murky darkness. My fingers felt cold pressure and tiny pricks, like they were being stabbed with toothbrush bristles.

  Not deadly, just unpleasant. I hoped, at the very least, the sender of the parchment would be the same.

  I arrived at the Slip trembling with fear and cold. Drenched in sweat and droplets of moisture from the fog, my clothes were heavy. My body was heavy, too. I was sure that was one more trick of the fog. It weighed me down magically, depressing not only my mind but my body.

  The closer I stepped toward the Slip, the lighter the fog became until it was just gray fingers of mist swirling around me, ghost-like, pulling at my hair and clothes just enough to creep m
e out.

  All of this could go horribly wrong, or I could walk away with my magic and all of my problems could be miraculously fixed. Except for not having a boyfriend. That was going to take longer to fix.

  The fog parted and a shadowy figure emerged, walking toward me, growing taller and taller as it neared. I was small and insignificant, like a rowboat facing an iceberg.

  “You came,” the cloaked figure spoke in a voice like cracking ice.

  I shivered and summoned my courage.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  The hooded figure kept his face hidden in the shadows and mist. “I am the Pardoner.”

  “Do I call you Mister Pardoner or just the single name, like Madonna or Adelle?”

  “You’ll regret your cheek,” he hissed.

  He was right. I regretted it. I couldn’t help it if I said stupid things when I got nervous.

  “Sorry,” I apologized. “Can we get this just over with? You tell me what you want, then you give me what I came for.”

  “I think you know it won’t be that easy,” the Pardoner mocked. “First, to establish a bond of trust between us, I want you to know that I don’t have your magic.”

  If you don’t have my magic, why am here? I wanted to ask him, but I wisely kept my sass to myself. Seriously though, what the heck?

  “However, I can tell you how to find it.”

  He was a slippery jerk. I bet he was related to Valerian.

  “Okay, fine. How do I find it?”

  “For that, you must pay a price.”

  “Of course,” I was sarcastic. Not going to lie.

  “Your magic in exchange for your sister.”

  My face must have did some weird thing because he followed that bombshell with, “You heard me. If you want your magic, you have to bring me your sister.”

  I stood there in silence. I mean, really. How crazy did this guy think I was? Did he think I’d trade my sister to get my magic back? Well, okay I was a little tempted, but being tempted was a far cry from actually trading her like a piece of livestock. I wasn’t that selfish.

  “Your life is on the line,” he pushed. “Enemies are very close to learning your secret. You’re not above suspicion. The second anyone finds out, your game is over. Both you and Ava die. If you make the deal with me, neither of you dies. And, you get your magic.”

  “What does Ava get?”

  “She gets to live.”

  “As a prisoner.”

  “As a student of the Red Scare.”

  Things just got creepier and more interesting. “What does the Red Scare want with her?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  I was about to argue, but he added, “It’s safe. We’re not going to kill her. We need her help with something.”

  “Why don’t you ask her instead of kidnapping her?”

  “It’s not kidnapping if her sister hands her over.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s kidnapping.”

  The Pardoner was getting frustrated. “She’ll agree to it. No one is kidnapping anyone.”

  “She won’t agree to it. She’s very happy here. Well, she was happy before she got arrested, but you probably know all about the arrest. And no offense, but you’re creepy with the hood and the voice and,” I waved my hand at him. “The whole executioner vibe you’ve got going on.”

  He growled.

  “Look, the problem is that you’re being sneaky. Ten to one, you go up to her in the cafeteria, offer her some cheesecake and she’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. Don’t bully her. She does much better magic when she’s happy, anyway. You don’t want her doing magic when she’s depressed. It turns out dull and gray.”

  “I don’t need her magic,” he growled. “What you fail to understand is that Ava is in grave danger right at this moment. If you do not free her, she’ll be executed before the week is up.”

  “What?”

  “She’s being tried for summoning werewolves with the intent to murder. One does not simply return to school after being charged with a crime of that magnitude.”

  “Yeah, but she’s Ava. She’s super powerful. She can blast her way out of anything. She doesn’t need me to save her.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Of course. I don’t have any magic, in case you already forgot that detail.”

  “Do you want your magic or not?” He wasn’t messing around.

  “Yes I do.”

  “Collect her and bring her to me.” He pivoted and began to walk away.

  “She’s not a bug or a stamp. You don’t collect people.” I yelled after the retreating figure.

  He yelled back over his shoulder. “It’s a saying, you stupid girl.”

  “If I do this, how to I find you?”

  The Pardoner stopped and I could hear him grumbling. He was kind of funny. I mean, he wanted to be imposing and threatening, but it just wasn’t working for him. He stormed back to me, his cloak billowing and feet stomping.

  He thrust a parchment roll at me. “Here.”

  “What’s your deal, anyway? Are you a good guy or a bad guy?”

  “Both,” he growled, before disappearing into the fog.

  Satisfied that I had made him insanely frustrated, I headed back through the fog to my dorm. This time, since I was heading for my dorm, the fog was super nice and pushed me right to the back door.

  Even so, this had been a sucky night. Totally sucky night. My arms were scraped bloody. I tore a hole in my jeans. I wasn’t any closer to having magic, and now I had to decide if I would kidnap my sister.

  The Pardoner guy was a nut job.

  Maybe it was the effect of the fog, but I couldn’t help thinking about my magic on my walk back. It would be seriously cool to have it. What if I could get it without giving Ava over to the stupid Red Scare? Or trick them into giving it to me and leaving her alone. The best of both worlds.

  With my luck, I’d end up giving Ava away and get no magic in return. That I had even thought of giving Ava over to that creep made me cringe with guilt. Still, magic would be super awesome. I wanted to feel those tiny bubbles.

  What if I could hand Ava over to them and then rescue her once I got my magic?

  No. Stop. I had to tell myself no a hundred times as I walked home.

  Back at the dorm, I slowed at my bedroom door. A light shone underneath. That was odd. Was Knavish ransacking my room? Was a werewolf waiting inside for me? If it was an ambush, whoever it was should have kept the lights off.

  I grabbed an umbrella and held it in my right hand, just in case I needed to club an attacker. Easing the door open, I was welcomed home by a bag of potato chips dumped onto the floor, a half eaten pizza on my bed, and Ava making out with Jeremy.

  On second thought, a trade could definitely be arranged.

  23

  I took small comfort in the fact that the weirdo calling himself the Pardoner had been wrong. But it was a nano-sized comfort. Finding Ava back in our room locking lips with Jeremy was a horrible shock. It was like finding out your sister was actually a housefly who pooped in your food before she served it to you.

  Yes. Exactly. Disgusting.

  Ava’s face burned with shame and she hastily buttoned her shirt.

  “How could you?” I asked.

  Silence.

  “Talk to me.”

  Brooding silence.

  “I swear, I’ll slap you.” I raised my hand and held it threateningly near Ava’s face.

  “Go ahead.” She raised her chin, offering her face to me. “I deserve it.”

  Her eyes were dead. She sat alone on her rumpled bed. Jeremy scurried out with his tail between his legs, like the dog he was, leaving her to deal with my wrath alone.

  I dropped my hand to my side. “I’m not going to hit you, but geez, Ava, what’s going on?”

  She groaned and dropped her face into her hands. “Jeremy was there when they released me. He said he’d help me get back to my dorm. He had magic that cl
eared a path through the fog.”

  “Ava, I never told you this, but Jeremy was the one who turned in Greg.” Plus I used to have a mad crush on him, I thought.

  “He’s not bad, Greta. We spent a lot of time together when I was under arrest.”

  “Did you— ,” I couldn’t finish the sentence. She knew what I was getting at.

  “Of course not. Well, I mean, we might have made out a little. To pass the time.”

  “YOU DON’T MAKE OUT WITH BOYS TO PASS THE TIME!”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Don’t you get it? Everything is wrong with me.”

  “You are so full of yourself. One thing goes wrong and you fall apart.”

  She laughed bitterly. “One thing!? I killed nine people.”

  “It wasn’t you. Those creatures did it.” I still couldn’t say the word ‘werewolf.’

  “I let them in. Don’t you understand. It was me. This was a warning from fate, the gods. Something bigger than me was sending a warning.”

  “The death of nine people isn’t a warning, it’s the start of a war.”

  “You don’t understand,” she moaned.

  “Okay, fine. Say it’s a warning, which it’s not, but say it was. What does it mean?”

  “I need to let you go.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Letting me go means — go to my death. You can’t let me go.”

  “I feel really bad, Greta. I’m sorry. I really am.”

  “Just don’t get drunk again. It’s an easy fix.”

  “No. It’s bigger than that. It’s time to stop the lie. I can’t do magic anymore.”

  “What do you mean anymore? Anymore this semester?”

  Ava had showered since I last saw her at the barn and her auburn hair was pulled away from her face in a simple ponytail. She slumped, rounding her shoulders, looking small — like the little girl I used to know.

  “You heard me,” she said quietly. “Magic is dangerous. Mine is especially dangerous because it’s so powerful.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense, Ava. Just because you made a mistake doesn’t mean you stop being you.”