I wait for her to go on, but she doesn’t. I take a breath. She knows about my magic—she has to. At the very least, she knows magic herself, and that’s a good enough starting point. Without preamble, I launch into the story of what happened today, leaving nothing out—except, of course, exactly how the circle got its hands on the crystal in the first place. As I talk, Jodi stops pacing and sinks down to the couch. I watch for a reaction when I reveal the part about the psychics—about me being one—but Jodi doesn’t seem surprised.
When I’m done talking, Jodi sits up straighter, squaring her shoulders. “I’ll take care of this. I’m gonna call the school right now and set up an appointment to talk with Crystal and we’ll get this straight.” She stands, heading toward the dining room.
I stand, too. “What about…” I stop, afraid to reveal I don’t know something key about my own life. But curiosity gets the better of me. “What about Mom?”
Jodi’s shoulders drop. “I’ll tell her. Don’t worry. I’ll… I’ll make her understand. It’ll be okay.”
My stomach clenches. So my mom doesn’t know about me—about what I am. Deep down, I hoped she did already—that she’d known about it for years and already accepted it. Not knowing how she’ll react to this information makes my insides roil.
Jodi crosses the room, pulling me into her arms. “It’s okay. She loves you. Knowing this won’t change that.” She holds me at arm’s length, a watery smile on her lips. “I can cancel dinner tonight and—”
“Don’t you dare,” I say, squeezing her hands. “You go out and drink all the rum.”
After a beat, she sighs. “I do love rum.” She bites her lower lip. “I’ll tell her.” She stands, heading for the dining room. “But now, I’ve gotta make an appointment with your principal.”
***
Mom brings a cake when she gets home from work. Her face is tight when she hugs me and wishes me a happy birthday—she’s upset about my suspension. Jodi assured me she convinced Mom—without getting into specifics—that my punishment is unjust, but it’s clear Mom’s waiting to make that determination for herself when she gets all the details.
Despite the chilly temperatures outside, my cake is an ice cream cake, as it’s been every year in my memory. I’m glad some things haven’t changed.
As we dig into the cake at the dining room table, I share my birthday plans: Bria, Felix, West, and I are going to the movie theater two towns over, and probably out to eat as well. When my mom mentions a curfew, Jodi snorts. “What? It’s not like she’s gotta be up early for school tomorrow.”
I bite the corners of my mouth to keep from smiling at the look on Mom’s face.
We’re just finishing our cake when there’s a knock at the door. “Am I the first one here?” West asks as I let him in, followed almost immediately by, “Is that ice cream cake?”
West is in the middle of the slice Jodi cut for him when Bria arrives. Her fingers find the bare skin of my wrist and she presses a thought into my head: I need to tell you something. It’s important.
She doesn’t need to tell me her news isn’t for adult ears. I don’t bother suggesting we wait until Felix gets here—if she thought we could wait, she wouldn’t bother sending me the thought now. “You wanted to see the greenhouse, didn’t you?” It’s the first private place that pops into my mind—besides my bedroom, and I’m sure Mom wouldn’t be thrilled with me bringing West up there. “Jodi, would you mind if I showed it to them?”
West whines, indicating his remaining cake. I raise my eyebrows and he sighs, taking up his plate and following us down the hall.
Bria waits until the greenhouse door closes behind us before speaking. “What you told me earlier, about Jodi’s old circle and Millie and Mrs. Cole and Miss Tanner being witches—it got me thinking.”
West chokes on his cake. “What?”
Bria rolls her eyes, holding a hand up to his face. “Old news. Catch up.”
He sputters, but Bria ignores him.
“The Taylors, the Tanners—they’re from founding families. The Barnettes, of course. The Burkes.”
I nod. It isn’t news to me that the founding families had abilities.
“I did a little digging, though,” Bria continues. “You know who else is from a founding family? Alec Crawford.”
My eyebrows scrunch. “Who?”
“Dana Crawford’s dad. They’re descended from the Hills. And Millie? Her maiden name was Yates—another founding family.” Bria’s eyes are wide and round. “You see what this means, don’t you?”
Goosebumps prickle my skin. “You think there’s a connection between the deaths? That someone’s targeting members of founding families?”
West swallows the last of his cake. “Those deaths were accidents. Krissa was there when Millie died, she can tell you.”
I purse my lips. “I felt something. Before it happened, I felt something strange in the air. I’ve been thinking maybe it was just—you know—a premonition or something. But if you’re right…”
“If she’s right, what? You think there’s a psychic killer out there targeting people from founding families?”
“Or a magic one.”
My words hang in the air. It can’t really be true, can it? These deaths could just be coincidences—after all, neither one exactly screams murder.
West breaks the silence. “Well. Guess it’s a good thing I’m not from a founding family.”
Bria smacks his chest. “West.”
“What? Neither are you.”
“But Krissa is. And Felix.”
I pull my cell from my back pocket and check the time. “Speaking of Felix, where is he? I thought we were supposed to leave here by quarter till?”
Bria huffs. “I knew I should’ve picked him up on my way over. West, you text him. I swear, if he’s not ready when we get to his house, I’m gonna kill him.”
We emerge from the greenhouse and I say goodbye to my mom and Jodi before heading out into the quickly darkening evening. The three of us pile into Bria’s mom’s Camry and she takes off. West sends a text but there’s no response. Not that there’s much time. In less than five minutes, Bria pulls up in front of Felix’s house. “That’s his car,” she says, pointing. “He’s still here. Surprise, surprise.”
I suppress a smile. “Maybe he’s got a legitimate reason for running late,” I offer as we climb out of the car.
Bria grumbles under her breath as we approach the house. I catch West’s eye and the two of us exchange a smile.
Bria is the first to the front door. She knocks and waits, but Felix doesn’t appear. With a sigh, she presses the doorbell. Another beat passes and there’s still no answer.
Something in the air changes. The lighthearted silliness of a minute ago is gone, replaced by a heaviness whose source I can’t identify. There’s something charged around us. I look at West to see if he senses it. His eyebrows are cinched together above his deep-set eyes.
“Something’s wrong,” he murmurs.
Bria knocks on the door again, and when that doesn’t get a response, she starts pounding. “Felix!”
“Do you smell that?” A heady scent invades my nostrils, followed by a sharp, acrid sting. It’s familiar, but it takes me a second to place it. There’s one time I’ve smelled something similar—when I was in the past, leaving Crystal Taylor’s house. “Fire,” I say quietly as the realization dawns on me. “It’s a fire. The house is on fire!”
“What?” Bria asks. She jiggles the doorknob, but the door doesn’t open.
West moves to the nearest window and starts banging against it with his elbow. “Felix!”
West’s elbow is making no impact on the window, so I scramble off the porch in search of something harder. Rocks the size of my fists put together line the flowerbed in front of the porch and I pry one up from the ground. “Try this!”
West leans over the railing and grabs the rock from my hand. From barely a foot away from the window, he launches it at the glass. I
expect it to shatter, but the rock merely bounces off the pane causing West to jump backward to avoid it hitting him in the foot. “What the—?”
I struggle to swallow as a thrum of energy courses through me. I’ve felt this before. “It’s a spell,” I say. “It’s a spell!” I repeat, louder, when it’s clear West and Bria haven’t heard me. It takes a second before they stop pounding on the house and look at me. “Someone’s using magic. I felt the same thing at the coffee house when Millie died.” I didn’t recognize it for what it was at the time, but now the signature of a spell is unmistakable.
“Oh, my god,” Bria murmurs. “Felix is from a founding family.” She starts pounding against the door again.
“Stop!” I run up the porch stairs and tug one her arm, making her face me. “If this is magic, then it doesn’t matter how much you pound. You’ve got to use your abilities. If it’s a spell, maybe we can disrupt it.”
It’s all the convincing Bria needs. Her eyes close and her face slackens; she’s visualizing something, trying to focus her psychic abilities. Behind me, West is doing the same thing. I allow my eyelids to drop, but instead of clearing my mind, I allow my fear, my panic, to fill me before pushing the emotions out, seeking the thread of energy connecting the magic to whoever’s casting the spell. Felix’s face dances in my mind’s eye as I link to the connection.
The crash of breaking glass cuts through my concentration. The window West attempted to break earlier is shattered, like the pane had some sort of delayed reaction to the impact of the rock. I stare, dumbfounded, but West rushes forward, kicking out the remaining glass before climbing through. Moments later, the front door swings open.
Bria loses no time. She pushes past me, running into the house, yelling Felix’s name.
“I’ll check upstairs,” West says.
I step over the threshold tentatively. Whatever presence was here only moments ago appears to have disappeared, but I don’t want to take any chances. It was magic, all right—something deep and dark. But it was more than that. I just don’t know how much more.
“He’s here!” Bria’s voice shrills from the back of the house. West’s footsteps thunder down the stairs and he and I make it to the kitchen at the same time. My eyes take in the scene: It looks like the fire started on the stove. The tile backsplash is covered in a thick black layer of soot, and the ceiling is scorched. The blackened remains of a towel and an oven mitt smoke ominously on the counter. Felix is laid out on his back in the center of the kitchen floor, his eyes closed. Bria’s face is close to his. When she looks at me, her eyes are shining. “He’s not breathing.”
My breath catches. Before I can do anything, Bria works to position his head the way we were taught in health class. She pinches his nose closed before leaning down and pressing her mouth over his. Felix’s chest rises and falls as Bria forces air into his lungs.
Beside me, West dials his phone and presses it to his ear. “Yeah, I need an ambulance,” he says. “My friend—there was a fire and he’s not breathing.”
Bria continues breathing for Felix and my vision blurs. It was magic that did this, and I think I know who was behind it. And things have gone far enough. I have to stop the circle before it can hurt anyone else.
Bria blows more air into Felix’s mouth and when she pulls back, he sucks in a noisy breath. I drop to my knees beside Bria, who smooths strands of hair from Felix’s forehead. I place my hand on his chest, reassured by the shallow rise and fall. But his eyes don’t open and Bria releases a shallow sob.
“No—no, he’s breathing now,” West says, still speaking into the phone. “But he’s unconscious…”
My skin prickles. I don’t want to leave Felix’s side, but I have to. I have to tell the circle I know what they’re doing. I have to stop them. While Bria is distracted, I reach into her coat pocket and pull out the car keys. Without a word, I run out of the house and aim the car toward Fox’s house.
Rage bubbles as I drive, every nerve ending in my skin burning. It’s not enough for Zane to try to kill Felix once today. I can imagine Crystal and the others sitting around in the Holloways’ basement, laughing as they plan another murder. Do they know I know? Do they know I’m coming for them?
Fox’s driveway and the street in front of his house are filled with cars. Good. The circle hasn’t left yet. Muffled laughter reaches my ears as I push open the front door. So they think what they’ve done is funny? I stalk across the floor toward the basement stairs. If they think fire is so funny, what I’m planning should be hilarious.
Before I hit the bottom step, I focus all the pent-up fear and rage into the center of the room. A fireball explodes in midair, hanging there like a sun. Screams and shouts of surprise rise up, but instead of causing the hot sphere to lessen, their fright pushes me to expand it. By the time my foot hits the basement floor, the glowing ball is at least five feet in diameter. The heat is incredible, but I feel it only peripherally—like sunshine through a window. Holding my hand out in front of me, I squeeze my fingers, sucking the room’s oxygen into the fire.
Griffin is pressed against the floor, covering his head with his arms. Crystal, Lexie, and Bridget cower against the couch cushions. Fox scrambles over the chair he’s in, backing as far away from the heat as possible. Zane gapes, frozen in his place on his usual armchair. His chest heaves, struggling to draw breath. I curl my fingers again, claiming more oxygen.
“You think it’s funny?” I scream. “Flames burning your skin, black smoke filling your lungs? You think it’s okay to leave someone gasping for air? Tell me now! Is it funny? Do you like it?”
Fox stumbles forward, heading for me while keeping as much distance between himself and the fireball as possible. His hand clutches his neck as he takes clumsy, labored steps. “Krissa, stop it!” he gasps, placing himself between me and the rest of the circle.
“Get back, Fox,” I snap. “You’re one of them. You made your choice. I’m not gonna feel guilty on account of a bunch of murderers.”
“What are you talking about?” Lexie squeals.
Crystal and Bridget murmur a counter-spell from their spot on the couch and I feel a flickering in my control on the fireball in the center of the room. Any other day, the two of them working together coupled with the fact that they’re anchored to the crystal would make them stronger than me. But today is not any other day. My fear and rage feed into my natural abilities and instead of the flame dimming, it expands, causing the girls to shriek and the guys to call out. Fox’s eyes go wide and he takes my hands, pulling them until I’m looking at him.
“Krissa, talk to me! What is going on?”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know!” I point at Zane. “He almost killed Felix tonight!”
“Wait—what?” Fox pulls my face around, forcing me to look at him again. “What happened to Felix?” His stormy eyes are wide, afraid—like they were earlier today during the incident with Zane. His confusion, shock, and fear hit me square in the heart. He has no idea what I’m talking about.
The rage within me fizzles, replaced by the image of Felix’s still body on the floor of his charred kitchen. The fireball disappears in the blink of an eye, leaving the room feeling twenty degrees cooler in its absence. I fall to my knees, covering my face with my hands. “There was a fire at Felix’s house, and it was magic—I felt it. Someone tried to kill him with magic.”
Fox crouches beside me. “It wasn’t us.”
Tears prickle my eyes and I rub at them. “You expect me to believe you?”
He presses his hands to my cheeks. “Of course you can believe me. Krissa, you know me.”
His emotions radiate off him, but I do my best to ignore them, too angry to allow myself to feel bad about what I just did. I push his hands away. “I thought I did, but I’m not so sure anymore. The crystal’s changed you, Fox. It’s changed you all.”
Lexie snorts, her earlier loss of composure forgotten. “This again? Really?”
I press myself to standing,
backing away from Fox. “Even if it wasn’t you who attacked Felix, it doesn’t change the fact that Zane tried to strangle me and Felix and Bria at school today. Fox, you saw it. And Bridget knocked Dana Crawford down a flight of stairs last week. Zane lit a guy’s car on fire.” I connect with each set of eyes, but, save Fox, no one looks the least bit abashed. “You can’t even see it, can you? You’re all just embracing the darkness? Well, you’d better pay attention to this: I’m going to stop you. No matter how strong or powerful you are, I’ll find a way to stop you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Instead of seeing a movie, Bria, West, and I spend the majority of the night at the hospital, where Felix is treated for smoke inhalation. His mother, who sits in the waiting room with us, is beside herself. She and Felix fought earlier about his suspension, and she’d been so angry she had to leave the house to cool off. She keeps murmuring things about how “if only she’d been there” this wouldn’t have happened. The three of us try to comfort her as best we can, but all I can think is that if she’d been there, she may have been hurt, too.
Bria’s mom is working and, even though it’s against the rules, she lets us in to see Felix before shooing us home. His complexion is ashy and his eyes are red and irritated, but he smiles when he sees us. The three of us were split about whether or not to tell Felix our suspicions, but West and I outvoted Bria and we told him about the fire having been produced by a spell.
“Zane?” he asks, his voice hoarse.
I shake my head. “That was my first thought, too. But Fox honestly seemed to have no idea what I was talking about when I confronted them.”
“They could’ve been lying.”
West laughs. “I think they were too busy crapping themselves to lie.”
I’m torn between smiling and vomiting at the memory of the fireball I conjured. I’m still not sure how far I was willing to go before Fox got me to stop. It’s Fox’s face that swims in my vision, giving me pause. He was terrified this afternoon when Zane was attacking us. He wanted to stop Zane then, but he couldn’t. And when I accused the circle of hurting Felix, he looked legitimately bewildered. “I’m not saying I think they’re entirely innocent. I’m just saying we can’t take for granted it’s them.”
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