Spellcaster

by Cara Lynn Shultz

  And then I was smacked in the face with a different emotion from Emma: shame.

  “Oh, my God,” I whispered to myself. “What did she do?”

  Chapter 19

  Emma

  I jumped off the last rung of the fire escape ladder, my heart pounding. I didn’t want to look at the building. I didn’t want to look at the alley. I just wanted to get out of there, find Brendan and Angelique and forget about the entire harrowing rooftop experience. I wondered if there was a spell I could do to erase my memory.

  I ran down Forty-eighth Street, finding Angelique sitting on one end of a bench, staring up at the lunar eclipse with an agitated look on her face. Brendan sat on the other end of the bench, nervously chewing on the string of his hoodie as he stared down at his phone.

  As if he knew I was standing there, Brendan’s head popped up and locked eyes with me.

  “Emma!” he called, getting up and racing over to me. Angelique followed, but he left her in the dust, taking a shortcut by jumping over a flower planter effortlessly. Within moments he had wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight against his chest. I clasped my hands behind his back, fully prepared to stay in that embrace for the next five hours. But Brendan quickly pulled away, his hands cupping my face.

  “What happened?” Brendan asked. His eyes seemed to be taking a mental inventory: no facial contusions, no broken bones—but when he saw my bloody hands, he paled, taking them in his.

  “Are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

  “No. It’s probably her blood. Or my blood,” I admitted, adding, “but I’m okay. It was just for the spell.”

  “Where?”

  I knew what he meant. “Near my other scar.”

  “Are you okay? Did it work?” Angelique asked breathlessly, nearly tripping over her long red skirt as she finally arrived.

  “It worked—both spells worked,” I said a little breathlessly as I slumped against Brendan.

  “It worked? Then why do you seem so…depressed?” Angelique asked suspiciously as I wrapped my arms around Brendan’s waist again. I just wanted to disappear into him and forget the entire last week existed.

  “Megan wasn’t going to stop,” I croaked, my voice rough as Brendan stroked my tangled hair. “She tried to kill me. She tried to stop my heart.”

  Angelique stared at me in shock. “What did you do?”

  “I had to stop her, once and for all.”

  Brendan’s hands paused, his fingers frozen against my back. He tilted my chin up to look into my eyes.

  “Emma, did you do something to her?”

  I nodded, tears starting to leak out. The day had officially become too much to bear.

  “Do I need to book us plane tickets to Buenos Aires?” Brendan asked seriously as his eyes searched my face.

  I smiled weakly, letting go of Brendan to sit on a nearby bench. All this spellcasting and fighting was exhausting.

  “Emma…” Angelique warned, and I quickly shook my head.

  “No, I didn’t do anything like what you’re thinking—although it did cross my mind,” I admitted shamefully, looking up at Brendan and Angelique as they both stood in front of me. “Having all that power is really intoxicating. Randi was right.”

  I sighed heavily, wanting to get it off my chest. “I beat the crap out of her. And I almost pushed her off the roof. I didn’t, but I really wanted to.”

  “What stopped you?” Angelique asked curiously.

  “I didn’t want to be like her,” I said, shame coloring my face as I thought of how I relished pounding her face into the roof. I never wanted to relate to Megan. Ever.

  “So what did you do?” Brendan asked, sitting next to me and slipping his arm across my back.

  “I did a variation of the spell I used to save you in the library. It seemed appropriate,” I explained, leaning into his touch. “She wasn’t going to stop. And she wants to be noticed by her family, so I made sure she will be.”

  I told them how I stood behind Megan and held out my hands as I had in the library. This spell had worked before, so I was sure it would work with a few changed words. I had looked up at the moon—there was still time left in the lunar eclipse. I still had my tripled powers. And I couldn’t think of a better use for the last of my power boost than to make sure Megan was removed as a threat—permanently.

  “Goddess I beseech you in your grace, show Megan’s family her soul’s true face,” I said, my voice loud and clear. She had stopped tugging at the glass, and turned to face me, her eyes glassy as she repeated my words back to me, much like Jenn had in class.

  I didn’t know what kind of display Megan was going to put on at home for her parents, but I hoped maybe she’d get the psychiatric help she deserved. Preferably in a hospital in another time zone.

  “That was brilliant, Emma,” Brendan said proudly, while Angelique just pouted.

  “Eh, I wish you’d pushed her off the building.” She sounded disappointed. “Or at least, pushed her onto the first fire escape. She could have used a little scare.”

  “Trust me, I got quite a lot of punches in,” I said, rubbing my aching hand. “But I think murder—even if we could argue that it’s in self-defense—is taking things a little too far. I already terrorized Kristin today. I’ve hit my quota.” I shuddered when I thought of how Megan related to me in that moment—I wanted nothing to do with her. I couldn’t wait until the end of the lunar eclipse so my new powers would fade away and I could just be boring old Emma again.

  “Fair enough,” Angelique agreed. “Any war wounds?”

  “Apart from a few bruises, just the self-inflicted one.” I gestured to my right arm, where my sweatshirt kept tugging open the cut. Please don’t need stitches, please don’t need stitches.

  “Let’s take you back to my house and get you cleaned up—and then you can tell us in lurid detail about what happened,” Angelique said, her eyes bright with excitement as she clapped her hands together. “Ooh, I can’t wait to hear what happened! Now that it’s over, wasn’t this kind of awesome?”

  Brendan rolled his eyes at her, irritation all over his face. I wondered if their truce was short-lived, but they seemed to get along okay back at her apartment, save a few minor barbs while we all crowded into her family’s small white-tiled bathroom. I busied myself with washing out my cut and putting butterfly bandages on it while the insults flew. Angelique sniped that Brendan was too overprotective and needed to relax, and he accused her of pushing me to battle lions if she thought there’d be a magical benefit to it. I’d told them both to shut it.

  I rehashed the night as we sat around the kitchen table, where Angelique made me repeat the tale of how I “exorcised” Megan’s powers repeatedly—even had me draw what the curling black tendrils looked like on a piece of paper—until my yawning got more frequent, and then seemed to overlap into one constant yawn. The lunar eclipse was over—and I was drained of all my strength and my tripled power.

  Angelique, on the other hand, got her innate witchiness back, and was practically bouncing off the walls with renewed vigor. And I felt like face-planting into the middle of her kitchen floor.

  “I guess we should go to sleep,” Angelique said pointedly, staring at Brendan. He stared right back.

  “Em, my parents are at some lunar eclipse-themed party. Honestly it’s just an excuse for them to get drunk and share bank account statements with their friends, but—” he paused, taking my hands in his “—do you want to stay over? I mean, your aunt already thinks you’re staying at Angelique’s.”

  “Stay over? In your, um, room?” Ooh. “What about tomorrow morning?”

  “It’s the middle of the workweek for them,” Brendan reminded me. “By the time we wake up, my parents will be gone. Or, you can stay with Angel
ique. Whatever you want.”

  I wanted to stay with him. Who wouldn’t want to stay with him? But when I turned to Angelique, she just snorted.

  “I don’t have to listen to you snore? Good. Go—spare me the empathetic agony of your longing to see him,” she teased. Then she started cracking her knuckles. “Besides, I have my powers back. There are some spells I want to try.”

  “Really?” I asked hesitantly. I didn’t want to be the girl who leaned on her friends during hard times and then ran off with her boyfriend, but that was exactly what I was doing.

  “Really. Go. Have fun. I plan on staying up all night doing spells and I don’t want to keep you up.”

  “Aww, Angelique,” I said, jumping up to hug her and she pushed her chair back, her hands outstretched in protest.

  “Please, Emma, you’ve reached your limit.”

  “I guess one per decade is the maximum allotted huggage,” I said, settling back into my chair, and she smiled.

  “That’s right…I’ll hug you again in ten years.”

  Brendan looked back and forth between us, amused.

  “Oh, what’s so funny Brendan?” Angelique asked, crossing her arms across her chest.

  “I can’t believe you hugged Emma. I didn’t know you knew how to process emotions,” he said coolly, leaning back in his chair. “Was that a system error? Do you need to restart?”

  “It’s been about ten minutes since you touched your hair,” she retorted. “Are you going through withdrawal? Are you going to be okay?”

  “And on that note, it’s time to go,” I said. Angelique walked us to the elevator, and I did manage to sneak in a grateful hug as I thanked her a billion times for her help—much to her dismay and Brendan’s amusement. But when he got me alone in front of the building, he pulled me into a tight, silent hug. We stood on the sidewalk, openly embracing, now that we no longer had to hide from the threat of Megan. I could feel the tension leaving my body as I relaxed against Brendan, oblivious to the people passing us as they walked by, chattering excitedly.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said, kissing me on the top of my head before breaking the embrace. He hailed a cab, and I snuggled against him so closely in the backseat I was practically sitting on his lap. When we got to his house, Brendan tucked me behind him as he punched in the security code on his front door.

  “Hello?” he called loudly, stepping into the foyer. “Mom? Dad?” His deep voice echoed around the empty town house, and Brendan reached behind him for my hand. I grabbed it, positive it was a little sweaty from the stress of the night—and the stress of being alone with Brendan. All night long. In the same bed. Babe Ruth didn’t have to deal with this many curveballs, I swear.

  I was glad I liked running. It’s a good thing I was a fan of cardio. Because my heart was jackhammering in my chest. Suddenly my battle with Megan seemed like a walk in the park.

  I held Brendan’s hand as we headed up the stairs, him sporadically calling out for his parents and me gripping his hand with my increasingly slick palm.

  He held my overnight bag in one hand, and my hand in the other, so when we got to his fourth-floor bedroom, Brendan opened the door with a swift kick that practically made me faint. I felt like an old-time maiden being whisked away by the conquering hero, even though I was the one who did the conquering tonight.

  Brendan dropped my bag by his bathroom door and peeled off his gray hoodie, which was splattered with my bloody handprints all over the back. It dropped to the floor in a puddle.

  “I’m sorry about that,” I said, looking at the stains. Brendan just snorted in reply.

  “Come on, Emma,” he said, poking it with his foot. “That’ll wash out. If it doesn’t, who cares? It’s a hoodie.”

  He eyed the bed, then me, as I hovered, awkwardly, in the doorway of his bedroom. Usually I just sauntered in like I owned the damn place, flopping on his bed and taking control of the remote control for his massive flat-screen TV. But tonight felt a little different.

  I could tell it felt different for Brendan, too, because his normally assured posture was almost timid. He folded his arms across his chest then stuffed them in his back pockets, resting his weight on one leg.

  “Hey, I guess you probably want to shower, right?” Brendan said. I looked down at my grimy clothing and nodded, slowly creeping my way into the bedroom to stand near the bathroom door.

  “Um…do you want to throw your clothing in the hallway? You probably don’t want your aunt to see bloodstains. I’ll, um, put them in the washing machine,” Brendan stammered, grabbing his hoodie off the floor and practically bolting to the doorway of his room.

  “Okay,” I said, looking from the bathroom door to him, and then back to the bathroom door. Brendan noticed how ill at ease I was—probably because my stiff stance mirrored his.

  “I’ll, um, leave you alone. I’ll just grab some stuff and then the room is yours. I’ll shower in the guest room. Just yell at me when you throw your clothing outside.” Brendan pulled open the bottom drawer on one of his dressers—his room took over most of the top floor, so it was furnished with multiple dressers, DJ equipment and even a couch—and grabbed what looked like a T-shirt and boxer shorts.

  “There are towels in there, but do you need anything before I go?” he asked formally—too formally, considering he was standing there holding his underwear in his hands.

  I shook my head. “I’ll just pillage whatever products you have in the shower.”

  Brendan smiled before turning on his heel and shutting the door behind him.

  When I heard the click of the lock, I slumped against the frame of the bathroom door. I’d conjured imaginary fire, beaten an evil witch, gotten into a fistfight and had a full day of school today. And now I was about to be naked in my boyfriend’s shower.

  Maybe I could squeeze in the SAT today, too.

  I peeled off my grimy jeans—which were plastered to the reopened cuts on my knee—and T-shirt, throwing them outside the door to Brendan’s bedroom and yelling quickly to him I’d left them there before I shut the door. I stuffed my bra and panties in the bottom of my overnight bag, though—I’d rather have let Megan kill me than let Brendan near my dirty underwear. They’re called unmentionables for a reason. I ran quickly to the bathroom and shut that door as well, even though I knew he would never barge in on me.

  Fortunately the shower did calm some of my nerves. Brendan might live in an old building, but the plumbing was as state of the art as you can get. The super-heated water beat the tension out of the back of my neck and shoulders, forcing my muscles to relax. I’d packed a few toiletries for my sleepover with Angelique, but apart from the razor and my face wash, I wanted to use Brendan’s stuff. I lathered myself with his soap, washed my hair with his shampoo, which smelled like rain and clean laundry. His familiar scent hung heavily in the steamy air, clinging to my damp skin and making me feel safe, like I was surrounded by him. It also made me feel a little…sexy.

  My packed attire for the night, however, made me feel like a frumpy old lady. I’d thought I was staying at Angelique’s place, so I’d packed pink-striped pajama bottoms and an old T-shirt. And my blue Go Titans Keansburg High shirt was not exactly what I wanted to be wearing the very first time I crawled into Brendan’s bed for the night.

  I pulled my wet hair back into a loose braid as I headed back into Brendan’s room. It was unnerving being in his room without him, so I quickly called him—I almost felt like I was trespassing. Brendan’s heavy footsteps on the stairs clued me in that he was close, so I leaned against the bathroom door, trying to look casual. I might as well have been standing on my head with my thumb up my butt—there was no way I was going to look casual. He knocked on the door, and I heard a hesitant, “You decent?”

  There’s nothing decent about the thoughts running throu
gh my head. “Yeah.”

  Brendan popped his shower-damp head in and looked around before opening the door. He was in boxers and a T-shirt, and held two bottles of iced tea and a paper bag of microwaved popcorn in his hands.

  “I didn’t know if you were hungry,” he said, holding up the snacks. Once I smelled the buttery popcorn, I was ravenous. I ran over and grabbed the bag out of his hands, ripping it open and shoveling a fistful into my mouth.

  “Sorry,” I said, a kernel of popcorn falling out of my mouth as I talked…like a caveman. Jeez, Emma, you were worried about your shirt turning him off? You’re manhandling this popcorn like a frat boy on a date.

  “Do you want me to make you a sandwich?” Brendan asked, looking at me with amusement as I grabbed another overflowing handful of popcorn and practically made out with it.

  “No, thanks, I’ll be fine. Besides, you already did my laundry,” I said, reaching for a bottle of iced tea and taking a swig. Then I realized something. “This is the second time this week you’ve done my laundry.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Brendan said, laughing as he tossed a piece of popcorn high into the air, leaning back his head and catching it in his mouth. He looked at me, grinning. “It’s like a fifties TV show, but the roles are reversed.”

  “If this were a fifties TV show, we’d be sleeping in separate beds,” I pointed out.

  Brendan froze, and another piece of popcorn he’d tossed in the air hit him in the forehead, ricocheting onto the floor. Brendan inhaled a sharp breath before looking at me.

  “I assumed we were sleeping in separate beds. I had planned on sleeping on my couch,” Brendan said, tilting his chin in the direction of the worn leather couch that was pushed against the exposed brick wall in his bedroom. Only then did I see the spare pillow and sheets on the floor behind him.