Spellcaster (Spellcaster #1)

by Claudia Gray

  Tears sprang to her eyes as she knelt upon the floor, put her forehead down in the puddles of her own blood that congealed there. All but the last few cuts had healed, because of her body’s lingering regenerative power; she wept only for the loss. “My only liege,” she whispered.

  He cries for missing you, too, said Asa, in a tone of voice that suggested he would rather not have told her. Demons often resisted their servitude. It did not signify.

  Slowly Elizabeth rose to her feet again. She took up one of her bottles of water—but the thirst had diminished. Strange, not to have it there: She almost missed the craving. After a couple of swallows, she used the rest to rinse blood from her skin. Only a couple of scratches needed bandaging. As it had been centuries since she needed anything like that, Elizabeth wound up ripping some old cloths to tie around the cuts. Probably they were not clean—there was something about cleanliness and infection she dimly recalled from the past couple of centuries—but it hardly mattered. Her other magics remained in place, for now.

  “Only one errand left,” she said to the demon chained within her mind. “Finding you a place.”

  Eager though I am to depart your company, I feel the need to point out—you haven’t exactly done much to stop Nadia Caldani.

  Elizabeth shrugged. “She has been taken care of. The boiling will have frightened her, and now she is without her Steadfast.”

  She is not. Her Steadfast remains by her side.

  “That’s impossible.” Verlaine Laughton had survived Elizabeth’s attack through some fluke of modern medical practice, but she had been comatose for the week since and would remain so until the time came to begin breaking the seal of the captive’s Chamber. In such a state, Verlaine should have provided little power to Nadia—and none when Nadia left the hospital in Wakefield.

  I can tell you only what I know. Nadia still has her Steadfast.

  Then it could not have been Verlaine. But who?

  A thought came to her and was as quickly rejected. It was ridiculous. Absurd.

  And yet, if there was no other possibility—

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she took in the unbelievable truth.

  Mateo paused in front of the door. “You’re completely sure there’s no other leads we can follow.”

  “Unfortunately, none come to mind.” Nadia squared her shoulders, obviously trying to make herself feel strong. The autumn wind caught her dark hair, a strand of it curling along her cheek.

  Did she know how vulnerable she looked in moments like this? Mateo could sense in her the fear that drove her onward—for Verlaine, for him, for her family, but never for herself. Yet Nadia had already taught him that vulnerability wasn’t the same thing as fragility. As deeply as she had been hurt—could yet be hurt—nothing had broken her.

  Besides, you had to respect anyone who was willing to confront Grandma.

  When the butler opened the door to the great house on the Hill, Mateo put on his best smile. “Yeah. I’ve shown up three times in one year. Crazy, huh? It’s like I’m ready to move in or something.”

  “ … Mrs. Cabot has retired.”

  It took Mateo a moment to realize that he didn’t mean Grandma had quit her job; so far as he knew, she’d never had one. She was just in bed. “Well, we need to see her. It’s important.” Then he paused, remembering the ghastly scars on his grandmother’s face and how badly they must have hurt. More quietly, he added, “Tell her I’m—reasonable. It’s okay. My friend just has some questions about our family history that only Grandma can answer.”

  The butler didn’t seem to think much of this, but he showed them into a side parlor and went upstairs. “He has to wake up Grandma,” Mateo explained as he took a seat on the long antique sofa, with its wooden frame and gold silk cushions. “That guy should get combat pay.”

  Nadia didn’t sit by his side; instead she paced the length of the parlor, a long, thin room with ornate green-and-white wallpaper and endless overstuffed, heavily carved furniture, all slightly hazy with a layer of dust. At first Mateo thought she felt awkward—and no wonder—but then he realized she was staring at one of the oil paintings on the wall. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “Have you never seen this?”

  “Seen what?” Usually he got in and out of Grandma’s house as fast as possible, so he hadn’t spent much time studying the wall décor. But as Mateo went to her side, he realized she was pointing at an old family portrait … really old, from the looks of it. The faces were flat, the sense of proportion skewed: It reminded him of paintings of George Washington or Benjamin Franklin he’d seen in history textbooks.

  “Mateo, look,” Nadia insisted. “Really look.”

  It was almost as if he had to force himself to do it. Why? But slowly the realization crept in as he focused on one figure in the back of the family group, standing slightly to the side—an older woman whose long, curly hair was half-chestnut, half-gray, and there was something about the eyes—

  He whispered, “Elizabeth.”

  Even this far back, she’d always been there, like a leech or a remora on the side of his family, sucking them dry.

  “You’re important to her.” Nadia never took her eyes from the portrait. “All of you. Her magic may be linked to your family in some profound way we haven’t yet guessed. The visions—as horrible as they are, as devastating as they can be—that’s not all she’s done to the Cabots. Not all she’s done to you. We’ve only just started to figure her out.”

  Mateo’s mouth felt dry. The rage spiked within him again, white-hot and blinding, but he refused to give in to it. Going crazy over this, no matter how understandable it might be—that was just what Elizabeth wanted.

  The parlor door opened, and the butler said, “Follow me.”

  He led them back into the music room, where Grandma always saw him when he came. Never once had she invited her grandchild to so much as come upstairs. Despite the fairly early evening hour, she was already in a nightgown, around which she’d bundled a heavy quilted robe. Though her hair was mussed, she remained as haughty as ever. Of course she was angled so that the scarred side of her face was in shadow.

  “The butler told me you did not seem crazed,” Grandma said, instead of hello. “But I should warn you that he is armed.”

  “Great to see you, too.” Mateo gestured toward Nadia. “This is Nadia Caldani, my—friend.” He didn’t yet have the right to call her more than that. “Nadia, this is my grandmother. Grandma, Nadia has some questions only you can answer.”

  “If you are here to ask if it’s safe to become romantically involved with a Cabot,” Grandma said to Nadia, “the answer is no.”

  Nadia stepped closer. “What do you know about Elizabeth Pike?”

  The question obviously caught Grandma off guard. “ … Elizabeth Pike? Good Lord. What do you need to know about her?”

  “Everything you can remember,” Nadia insisted. She was the first person Mateo had ever seen who wasn’t intimidated by Grandma at all.

  If Grandma hadn’t been so completely bewildered by the question, Mateo thought, she would have thrown them both out. Instead she sat there searching for what to say. “She was—fast, we used to say. The kind of young girl who went around throwing herself at men, including my husband. Not that there was anything improper between them. He told me that and … I still believe him, despite everything else. But the way she hung around him! It was shameless. And he was weak in the way most men are weak. A pretty young girl paying him attention—well. He never strayed, but he confided in her. Told her of his dreams, his thoughts, that sort of thing. No doubt it propped up his ego. Whatever can that matter now?”

  “You’d be surprised,” Mateo said. His thoughts tangled together and buzzed in his head like a swarming hive. Elizabeth had used his grandfather the same way she’d used him.

  Nadia nodded. “And how did Elizabeth know your daughter? Mateo’s mom?”

  “Lauren took that girl on as if she were a little sister, or perhaps even a daugh
ter.” Grandma said it automatically, without any curiosity about how someone she remembered as a teenager with Grandpa might still be a teenager years after his death. She doesn’t let us remember, Mateo thought with a chill. Elizabeth doesn’t let us recognize the evidence in front of our own eyes. “And Miss Pike was a bad influence. I’m convinced to this day that she was the one who told Lauren it wasn’t too late to have a child. Talked her into trying for a test-tube baby.”

  Mateo could have reeled. It wasn’t that Grandma regretted his ever having been born; she’d already made that clear plenty of times. What killed him was that Elizabeth was the reason he’d been born. He was her … invention. Her possession, in more ways than he could ever have guessed.

  “Test-tube baby,” Nadia whispered. “That’s what they used to call IVF, right? In vitro fertilization?”

  “I have no idea what the technology is called.” Grandma sniffed. “All I know is, it made possible what should have remained impossible. It allowed a woman past childbearing years to give birth to a son who will carry on the curse of the Cabots.”

  Nadia turned to Mateo, almost wild with excitement. “Mateo, don’t you see? This is why you’re my Steadfast! No man conceived of woman!”

  Mateo’s eyes widened as he realized what she meant. Technically, his cells first started dividing in a petri dish somewhere. Did that mean he wasn’t “conceived of woman,” for the purposes of whatever old curse or spell kept men from holding magic? That had to be it.

  “What are you blabbing on about?” Grandma said, her good eye narrowed.

  Clearly excited by the revelation, Nadia said, “You’ve actually given us a lot to consider. But there’s just one more thing I need to know—did your husband or your daughter ever mention any—weak spots or vulnerabilities Elizabeth Pike might have? Places she absolutely had to go, possessions that were overly important to her?”

  “Not that I can recall. Wait. There was one thing—Lauren was forever meeting with her at the school. Elizabeth Pike seemed to positively be attracted to it. At the time I thought it meant she was only a good student. But no teenager enjoys school that much.”

  This was the first sensible, helpful thing Mateo had ever heard his grandmother say. Too bad it didn’t get them very far: They already knew Elizabeth’s plans weren’t centered on the school, so nothing at Rodman High could have anything to do with it.

  Disappointed, Nadia nodded. “Okay. That’s all we needed to know. Thank you for talking with us, and sorry we woke you up.”

  Before they could go, however, Grandma said, “You’re a very polite young lady, Miss Caldani. You seem a sensible girl. And yet the connection between you and my grandson is all too clear.”

  Was it that obvious to everyone? Were they sending off sparks? When Mateo’s eyes met Nadia’s, and he felt that moment of raw electricity between them, he could believe it.

  Grandma continued, “For your own sake, Miss Caldani—stay far away. I paid the price for loving a Cabot man. Trust me, it’s not one you want to pay.”

  “You can’t tell me who to love,” Nadia said, so steady and sure it took Mateo’s breath away. “I can’t even make that choice myself. Sometimes, love chooses us.”

  “Nadia,” he said. His voice broke on her name.

  Nadia plowed on. “Mrs. Cabot, it’s horrible, what happened to you. And believe me, I know the curse is real. But I can fight back in ways you never could. I can give Mateo a chance nobody else can. And I’m not abandoning him, no matter what.”

  Her hand closed around his, and they walked out together.

  His grandmother must have been too astonished to say another word.

  The whole way home, as Mateo’s motorcycle zoomed along the winding roads of Captive’s Sound, Nadia’s mind whirled with what she had just learned. As important as the information about Elizabeth was, she kept going back to the revelation about IVF.

  Apparently male infants conceived that way were exempt from whatever powers had once bound them from holding magic. That explained why Mateo was now her Steadfast; although Nadia had long since accepted this, she was glad to finally have a reason.

  However—thousands and thousands of baby boys had been conceived that way. IVF began back in the 1970s, hadn’t it? That meant there were grown men out there capable of holding magic. Were they also capable of performing it? For the first time in all human history, could there be men who were also witches?

  Possibly she and Mateo were the first to discover this. No other witch would ever even think to investigate something every magical principle and even the First Laws took for granted.

  But if they didn’t know this—what else might be out there, waiting to be discovered?

  The motorcycle came to a stop half a block away from her home. Nadia felt relieved; she didn’t want Dad walking out to say hi. Not now. Not after what she’d said at Mrs. Cabot’s house on the Hill.

  She took off the helmet, slid off the bike. Mateo slung his leg over so that he stood in front of her. When Nadia handed him the helmet, his fingers closed over hers, and they just stood there, holding it, like they still needed an excuse to touch.

  “What do we do now?” Mateo said.

  “We prepare to go against Elizabeth.” Nadia felt the weight of responsibility heavy on her again, crushing down. “She’s going to attack the town’s magic. So we should cover it, each of us. With what I can reveal with my own spells, and what you can see, we ought to be able to determine a lot of the more powerful forces Elizabeth has at work.”

  “Like whatever she did to Verlaine,” Mateo said.

  Involuntarily Nadia shuddered. “Once we know more about her spells, we’ll know what she’s trying to attack. Then maybe I can figure out how to fight her and keep those spells in place.”

  His dark eyes betrayed his disbelief. “You’re going to fight to protect her magic?”

  “It’s part of this town now, for better or for worse.” She caught herself. “Okay, mostly for worse. But Elizabeth is woven into the fabric of Captive’s Sound. That means she can rip the place apart. If keeping her magic in place is the only way to stop her, then that’s what we do.”

  “So we’ll be fighting for my curse?” Mateo said. But as horrible as that had to sound to him, he only smiled ruefully. “Didn’t see that coming.”

  “Mateo—”

  “It’s all right.” The moonlight caught the warmth in his deep brown hair, painted the lines of his cheekbones and jaw. “If that’s what we have to do, then we’ll do it. You’re the one who told me I was strong enough to bear the curse. Who made me believe it.”

  The responsibility pushed her down even harder, but Nadia struggled against it. She snatched the helmet from him, hung it on the bike, and grabbed his hands. No more excuses. No more waiting. “Don’t do this only because of me.”

  “I’m not. But I would.”

  Mateo’s fingers wound around hers, so soft and so slow that her skin tingled. At first she wanted to look away, suddenly shy, but when their eyes met, she couldn’t imagine turning from him.

  His voice was low. “What you said back there—”

  “I meant it. I won’t abandon you.”

  “That’s not what I was talking about.”

  They’d never kissed. This was the first time they’d touched like this. Had she rushed it? “Maybe—maybe you feel like it’s too soon—”

  “I love you, too.” Mateo shook his head, as disbelieving as he’d been when he swore to fight to protect his own curse. “I knew from the visions that I would—when I saw you in danger, it didn’t just scare me. It ripped my heart out. So I fought how I felt about you. I didn’t want the visions to be true, not any part of them, not even the part that told me I’d love anyone as incredible as you. But no matter how hard I pushed you away, you just kept coming. You’re relentless, you know that? You wanted to understand me. You wanted to know me. You wanted to save me, and I think you’re the only one who can.”

  And yet every time she’d
wanted to give up, Mateo was the one who had given her the courage to go on. He was the one who saved her, not the other way around. Nadia began to tell him so, but even as she looked up at him, he leaned closer, and their lips met.

  The night was no longer cold. The wind no longer tore at her hair, shivered across her skin. Nadia only felt Mateo’s mouth on hers, his arms pulling her close, and a deep, delicious warmth that seemed to glow inside her.

  When they broke the kiss, Nadia had to catch her breath. He whispered, “So. Not too soon.”

  She smiled at him—but the sadness in his eyes caught her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Besides the witch who’s cursed me and come after you and already suspects we know too much about the upcoming devastation she plans to let loose on the whole town?”

  “Okay, yeah, that’s enough,” she admitted. “But we’re together in this, in everything.” Elizabeth can’t take that away, Nadia nearly said, but stopped herself. Elizabeth could take it away … and had threatened to do exactly that.

  By now Elizabeth had to realize that they were close. The only reason she hadn’t destroyed Nadia long ago was because Elizabeth didn’t acknowledge her as a real threat. But it wouldn’t be beyond Elizabeth to take Mateo away out of pure cruelty. To use his pain against Nadia, or to twist the curse into some new, unimaginable horror.

  From his expression, she could tell he was thinking the exact same thing. “We have to be careful,” Mateo said. “I already tipped her off, but … we can keep from making my mistake any worse. Work separately and not together, so we give her less time to figure out what’s going on.”

  “Right. We should.” And yet the thought of parting from him, even for the brief time remaining before Halloween, shook Nadia deeply. They could call; they could text. But still—“I don’t want to let her take you away from me.”

  “Gage’s party. We’ll see each other then. Go over more of what we’ve learned,” Mateo promised. “And—be together. You and me.”

  “You and me.”

  Nadia was reading Mateo’s latest text message (Don’t know what’s glowing dark red around the city library, but it’s nasty—like barbed wire made of flame) when she heard Dad.