by Claudia Gray
Instead, the screen read, Message From Mateo Perez.
Nadia sucked in a breath. For a moment she just stared down at the screen. Then she thumbed the message open to see: Meet me tomorrow at the beach? By my house. My lunch shift ends at 3.
Nadia wanted to go there tomorrow and just smack him. Mateo didn’t get to ignore her for a whole week and then just command her to show up at his convenience. No way.
And yet—seeing the message made Nadia feel as if something tight around her chest had finally gone slack and let her breathe.
Even if she did only show up to give him hell—she knew she’d show.
It was the kind of a Saturday that felt like a Monday. The sky hung low with gray, rain-thick clouds that threatened to burst at any moment, and the gusty wind was a reminder that winter wasn’t too far away. Dad took Cole to see some movie with computer-generated frogs or something, so she didn’t have to make up an excuse about where she was going.
Of course, she could have just told her father she was meeting Mateo—but that would have led to more Mr. Sensitive. No thanks.
Nadia hugged her shearling jacket around her as she walked from Oceanside Road toward the patch of beach nearest Mateo’s house. The homes here weren’t like beachfront property she’d seen elsewhere; normally, only the wealthiest could afford houses with ocean views, and the architecture proved it—vast decks of gleaming wood, windows so huge they appeared to be glass walls, that kind of thing. But it was obvious that the homes here were as ordinary and weather-beaten as any others in Captive’s Sound.
Apparently there’s tons of summer vacation business in towns nearby, Dad had said, back when he was explaining the big move. But it’s never taken off in Captive’s Sound, for some reason. That makes it cozier. And more affordable.
Yeah, Dad probably got a bargain on the house in the town being eaten alive by dark magic. Nadia could imagine the real estate listing. Cursed Victorian! 3 bd/2 bth, zoned inside soul-sucking net of evil. Act now!
As she neared Mateo’s house, she heard the now-familiar roar of a motorcycle and turned to see him driving up. Nadia hugged herself more tightly and stood very still the whole time he shut off his bike and dismounted. She took not one more step toward him. He’d have to bridge the rest of the distance.
“Hey,” Mateo said as he took off his helmet. His expression was hard to read. “Thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for asking me.” Nadia didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands all of a sudden, so she stuffed them in her jacket pockets. “How are you doing?”
Mateo opened his mouth, closed it, then shrugged. “Great. Terrible. Both at once, most of the time.”
“Yeah. I know how that feels.”
For another moment they just stared at each other. This was worse than the few haunted glances they’d exchanged in the halls at school, on the days when Mateo bothered to show up. Then Mateo finally said, “Come on. Let’s walk.”
They went to the shoreline, where the sand was no longer loose enough to drag against their shoes but packed hard by the departing tide. The ground underneath was still soft enough to hold the faint impressions of their footsteps, side by side.
“The worst part is what I feel when I see Elizabeth,” Mateo said, staring out to sea. “I didn’t know I could hate like that. Maybe I have the right to hate her, but inside it feels like—it feels like that sky looks.”
He pointed upward. All Nadia could see was an ordinary gray sky, but she knew Mateo’s Steadfast ability showed him its true nature. “Describe it to me.”
“It boils. With a film across it, a scum—like soup that’s gone too hot on the stove. Except whatever this is drains the light. Sucks it in. It’s like watching poison poured over us all, over and over again. Be glad you can’t see it, Nadia.”
She was. But she wouldn’t say so. Her spell had done this to him; that meant what he had to see was her responsibility, and always would be.
He continued, “But there’s a good part, too.”
“Yeah?”
It took Mateo awhile to find the words—a long silence between them that was broken only by the crashing of the waves and the shrieking of gulls. “I don’t know if I can make you understand what it’s like to know that I’m not crazy. That the visions are true. No matter how evil that reason is, it’s real, and now I can fight it. At least, I can if you help me.”
Their eyes met; as one, they slowed their steps and simply faced each other. Nadia finally said, “Does that mean you—you trust me?”
“I have to.”
It was like another slap in the face, but how could she blame him?
Then Mateo added, “And you’ll have to decide whether or not to trust me.”
“Why wouldn’t I trust you?”
He glanced down at the sand, breaking eye contact, like he was ashamed. “Because I haven’t told you everything.”
“What else is there to tell me?”
“I’ve seen you in my dreams. My visions of the future.”
Nadia frowned. “You told me that part.”
“I didn’t tell you the part where I’ve seen you die.”
The ground seemed to drop out from under her. “ … What?”
“More than one dream. More than one way you might—it might happen.” Mateo paced back and forth in front of her, talking with his hands as he struggled for words. “So it’s not like I know exactly when, or how, or even for sure. You’re not the only one I dream about, either—but you’ve been showing up more and more, and I know you’re in a lot of danger. I knew that before I ever laid eyes on you. Once I thought—I thought if I stayed away from you, if I weren’t there to see any of the stuff my dreams said I would see, then you’d be safe. Right? But one of the visions showed you struggling underwater, and I didn’t even get what that was until we went diving in the sound. Then I realized what kind of trouble you were in, and what I had to do to help you. So maybe some of the dreams let me protect you. I don’t know. All I do know is that I should’ve told you this a long time ago.”
It was creepy. And then some. Nadia took a deep breath, then another, making sure she felt steady.
Mateo now looked like he expected to have to catch her when she fainted. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“I should’ve said something. I was trying so hard not to believe it—”
“We have to believe in your dreams. That’s how you saved me from the wreck, and on the night of the dive.” Yes. That was what she had to hold on to. Nothing else mattered. “Your dreams are a curse to you—I know that. But they might be the only thing that keeps me safe.”
“Then they’re worth it,” he said, as if that were as obvious as day following night. Something warm and stealthy turned over inside Nadia’s chest.
In truth, though, she wasn’t particularly frightened of the visions themselves. Yes, it was unnerving hearing that a guy who could see the future mostly saw her in a whole lot of trouble. But the dreams could be symbolic rather than literal; the one where she had been “floating” rather than drowning proved that.
No one vision worried her as much as the fact that he’d seen lots of ways she might die—that she played such a large part in the dreams he’d had so far. Why should she be so central to whatever was happening here in Captive’s Sound—in whatever danger seemed to be approaching? October thirty-first wasn’t far away now. That was frightening enough to think about, especially whenever she looked at Verlaine’s careful maps and the target drawn over the town. But why would it focus so strongly on her?
Worst of all: He’d talked about his dreams with Elizabeth. Maybe Nadia didn’t know why she mattered so much—but by now, Elizabeth might.
Mateo studied her face for a second and seemed to decide they needed to talk about something else. “Okay, apparently I’m your Steadfast. And a Steadfast makes you more powerful, right?”
Changing the subject—definitely a good idea. “Remember that whole scene in chemistry class?
Doesn’t normally happen after a spell of liberation. So, yeah. When you’re closer, my magical power should be, um, amped up.”
“Well, come on. Let’s find out what you can really do.”
Nadia heard the challenge in his voice and, despite her worries, had to smile. A spell, any spell—but what?
Once again she thought of the spells she’d managed to decipher in Goodwife Hale’s Book of Shadows. For every one that sounded beyond awesome (a spell for extinguishing or even reversing fire), there was another that wasn’t as useful these days (like the one to remove enchantments on your milk cow). But one in particular had stood out to her, precisely because of how much she would have wanted it that night she dove off the lighthouse: a spell for moving water.
“Okay.” She took a deep breath and brought her hands in front of her chest, a gesture almost like praying, except that the fingers of one hand curled around the pendant on her bracelet that was made of pearl. “Let’s try this.”
In her mind, Nadia put together the ingredients:
The love of a child.
A living thing rising from the earth.
Hope through grief.
Each one had to be thought of, then felt so deeply it almost ached—
—and as she concentrated, her eyes shut, she felt Mateo slip his hand between hers. He didn’t clutch at her, didn’t weave his fingers into hers, just touched her. His skin was warm, his hand slightly rough from hard work.
That should have been the most distracting thing possible. Instead Nadia’s thoughts took on an entirely new clarity. It was like the world had gone from black-and-white to color, from a flat photograph to three dimensions, but more, with every sensation and feeling more vibrant to her than ever before—
Cole standing on his chubby baby legs and taking his first steps, not toward his mother or father but toward his big sister—
Spring crocuses pushing their way up through the snow—
“So what do you say?” Dad sitting at their table back in Chicago, in the apartment that always felt so empty without Mom there. “Do you want to stay here, or are you guys okay with moving and having a fresh start?” Seeing little Cole nod, giving up everything he’d ever known in an instant, and Nadia suddenly realizing she wanted to do the same and find out what was next—
“Oh, my God,” Mateo breathed. Nadia opened her eyes.
The ocean in front of them had begun to ripple upward into shimmering walls of water. They outlined a path stretching into the ocean, until those walls of water were several feet high. There before them lay seaweed glistening green, the iridescent shells of oysters, and wet, dark sand—a road for only the two of them to travel. Water spray turned even the weak afternoon sunlight into radiance, as prisms of multicolored light flickered above it all.
It was gorgeous. It was miraculous. Every fear she’d had seemed to melt away in an instant.
“That—that was not supposed to happen,” Nadia whispered.
“In a bad way or a good way?” Mateo’s hand remained between hers.
“In a very good way. This is amazing.”
“This is biblical.” Mateo started laughing. “Are you going to tell me Moses was a witch?”
She laughed. “What, do you want to get struck by lightning? Hush.” Though she’d occasionally wondered—there were a few spells that would definitely seem miraculous—
No. Better to drop that thought and avoid the whole lightning-strike-from-heaven thing.
Nadia couldn’t take her eyes from the incredible phenomenon in front of her, but she could hear the smile in Mateo’s voice as he spoke. “Do you want to walk out there? Stand in the middle of the ocean and watch the fish swim by?”
“No. I should let it go. The oysters and things—I don’t want them to—to do whatever the opposite of drowning is.” They needed the water, so Nadia let go of the charm and relaxed. Almost instantly, the water rushed back down, splashing their legs and soaking her shoes clear through. Although the ripples spread out across the waves, already the ocean looked exactly as it had before.
Nadia turned to Mateo and saw her own delight reflected back to her in his face. The two of them burst out laughing at the same moment. “So it works?” he said. Salt water flecked his hair. “I’m a good Steadfast?”
“I don’t know how you’re one at all. But yeah, you’re good. You’re incredible. That spell should have moved the water a couple of feet, not—parted it like the Red Sea!” Nadia brushed back her own dampened hair. The wind was colder now that her clothes were wet, but she didn’t care. This beach seemed like the only place she could ever want to be, Mateo the only person she’d want to be with. “We’ll have to be careful how we practice. You give me so much power, even simple spells could be dangerous.”
Mateo’s smile faded, and his gaze hardened again. “Enough power to take on Elizabeth?”
God, she wanted to lie about this. But Mateo had been lied to enough already. “She’s strong. Stronger than any other witch alive, and her ally is the One Beneath. But—but maybe I don’t have to be more powerful than her. Just powerful enough to stop her.”
“Say the word. Anything I can do for you, Nadia, I’ll do. And I know what’s at stake, you know? I know what Elizabeth can do. I’m not afraid. I’m with you, no matter what.”
As they looked into each other’s eyes, Nadia found herself remembering what they said about a Steadfast—that the power she gave to a witch was in proportion to the potential for trust between the two. The potential for understanding, and for love.
14
“NADIA?”
“Hmmm?” She kept staring out of the living room window, where the sky was darkest. That was the east, the direction of the ocean. All Nadia could see was the image of her and Mateo together, surrounded by sea spray, with the power of that magic coursing through her—and the look of wonder in his eyes—
“Earth to Nadia.”
Startled, Nadia turned to see her father giving her a look. “Sorry. I kinda zoned out there.”
“You’re sure you’re okay with being on Cole Patrol tonight? You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”
“Of course I’m okay with it. That’s my job, right?” Okay, it was past time to get her head out of the clouds. She and Mateo could explore anything—everything—tomorrow and all the days after that.
“Hey.” Her father took a seat next to her on the sofa. Already he was in work mode—the pen tucked behind one ear was a sure sign—but his expression was worried. “It’s not your job. You’re not the nanny. If you have homework, or you and Verlaine were going to do something—”
“I don’t, and we weren’t. Seriously, Dad, your case is coming up. Go do your lawyer thing. I’ve got Cole.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.” Nadia knew she ought to be grateful he was so worried. Lots of parents dumped stuff on their kids without even asking. But honestly, it was almost irritating. Dad knew she helped out, knew she wanted to do it, so why did he keep being so careful with her? It was like he wanted to make himself feel better about it or something.
Luckily, Cole was having a good night. All he wanted to do was watch Toy Story 3 for about the zillionth time.
“I hate that bear,” Nadia said as she lay on the sofa, watching Cole munch on Cheetos. She’d be scrubbing orange gunk out from under his fingernails.
Cole nodded. “Lots-o is a douche bag.”
“Cole!” It was hard to sound all strict when she was trying not to laugh. “Don’t use that word!”
“Is it bad?”
“It’s bad enough. Did you hear that at school?”
Cole nodded. He looked crushed, poor little guy. “That’s what Levi calls our PE teacher.”
“Well, don’t you call him that. Or anybody else.” Nadia was already on the verge of cracking up. “Um, you want some ginger ale?”
“Okay. But—Lots-o is one, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. You can think it. Just don’t say it. That bear’s
a—let’s call him a jerk.”
Nadia made it into the hallway before she started giggling. Somebody ought to hear that story. Maybe she could text that to Mateo? It was as good an excuse as any—though she didn’t really need an excuse to reach out to him anymore, did she? But her phone was nearly dead.
So on her way to the kitchen, she stepped into Dad’s cluttered cubby of a home office. He wasn’t in it; instead he was pacing the length of the backyard, over and over, while he talked with his client on the phone, prepping him for a deposition. Dad could never talk on the phone without having at least fifteen feet of walking space. She could barely hear him outside the window, going on about a “hostile work environment” or something like that. Nadia leaned over his desk to plug her phone into the charging station—ten minutes would give her enough juice for the rest of the night—
—and saw, hovering on his laptop screen, an email from William Kamler.
Aka, her mother’s divorce lawyer.
This was snooping. Definitely. Which didn’t make Nadia even hesitate before reading it all:
Mr. Caldani—
I have communicated your thoughts about visitation to your ex-wife. However, she remains adamant a meeting with the children is not advisable at this time. You point out, correctly, that this goes against the recommendations of the court-appointed psychologist; however, parental visitation can never be forced by any legal order. Ultimately, only Mrs. Caldani can decide when or if she will choose to contact her children again, or allow them to initiate contact with her. Although I am sympathetic to your feelings as a father, my legal duty is to protect my client’s personal—