Spell Fire (The Teen Wytche Saga)

by Ariella Moon

  "You must be Ainslie."

  "Guilty."

  She extended a cool hand, her handshake like a spring trap. "I'm Lucia. Jett said you were here."

  I escaped her grip and rubbed my hand. "Is he still around?"

  She snapped her gum, releasing a sharp minty scent. "Nah, he had to leave early."

  "Crap. I needed to ask him something. Mind if I use the computer?"

  "You're the boss's niece. Do whatever you want," she said, not moving.

  What a novel thought. Maybe after she left I could I check my email. "Spiral Journeys might host a solstice event. I need to work on the flyers." Move. Hint, hint.

  "Smooth." She pushed back the left sleeve of her hoodie, revealing a circlet tattoo of strange symbols.

  "Any idea what the yoga place in Palm Springs is charging for their solstice event?" I asked.

  "I can find out." Lucia attacked the keyboard as if typing was a competitive sport. Soon she had pulled up the yoga site and located their solstice promo. "Hah!" She sounded triumphant. Her pale blue eyes shined. "We can match their ticket price."

  I pressed my finger against my lip. "We'll double it."

  "What? You're crazy. No one will come."

  "Yes, they will. We'll donate half the proceeds to the local schools' Art and Science program. I'm sure they're hurting for money."

  "You better run this by Terra and Esmun."

  "I will. But if we get the schools involved, they'll have a stake in the event's success. We can get local kids to promote it on social media."

  "Maybe…"

  "We'll pull in a whole new crowd. We'll have everyone write their name on the back of their ticket and each ticket will go into a basket—"

  "Could it be a skull?"

  "I don't think so. Anyway, the board will do some kind of solstice ritual, peace and harmony for the Earth—"

  Lucia cracked her knuckles. "So we don't scare the newbies."

  "Um, exactly," I said, planning it out loud. "Then we'll draw a certain number of names from the bas — whatever, and those people will get a fire fortune."

  Another gum snap, mint blast. "Awesome."

  "Thanks. I better get to work." Excitement hummed like a high-speed train along my veins. Maybe this is why I was stuck here over Christmas — to help Aunt Terra, Uncle Esmun, and the local schools raise money. If only I could get to the keyboard.

  The chimes overhead clanged. Lucia nudged my arm. "Look."

  Judging by his sallow complexion and sunken eyes, the guy entering the store had either stayed up all night playing violent video games, or he was a vampire.

  Lucia flashed a predatory smile. "Mine."

  As she swooped away, I pulled up the stool and lost myself in logistics, to-do lists, and potential letters to the schools.

  A while later, a warm hand on my shoulder startled me. "How's it going?"

  I glanced up from the monitor. "Hey, Aunt Terra."

  "Is this the flyer?" She leaned closer to read. "A fundraiser? What a great idea!"

  "Sure you don't mind? You could donate whatever percentage you choose. I wasn't going to send anything until I got your approval."

  "You absolutely have my approval. So Jett agreed to participate?"

  "I haven't run it past him yet. He left early." The coward.

  Aunt Terra bit her thumbnail. I got the feeling this wasn't the first time Jett had ditched ahead of schedule.

  "Go ahead and save everything to a new folder," Aunt Terra said. "You can talk to Jett tomorrow when he comes in after school." Aunt Terra glanced over her shoulder at Lucia, who was showing the customer rosemary-and-anise-scented protective amulets.

  "Is Lucia a yoga teacher or personal trainer?" I asked.

  "Neither. She clears people and buildings of bad energy and demons. She's an entity eater." Aunt Terra shuffled through some checks she had pulled from the bottom of the till. "If her eyes glow red or she talks in tongues, back away slowly and come get me."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Dead serious. Don't let her seemingly Irish looks fool you. She's a fourth-generation Iraqi entity eater."

  I waited for her mouth to twitch or some other clue she was joking.

  Instead, Aunt Terra placed the checks back under the cash drawer and closed the register. "Don't forget your school books."

  "Okay." Keeping an eye on Lucia, I pressed Save on the computer.

  "I'll see if I can extract my husband so we can go," Aunt Terra said. "Give us about ten minutes."

  "Mind if I check my emails?"

  Aunt Terra waved her hand. "Of course not. Go ahead."

  "Thanks." I logged on to my account and found a half-dozen emails from Jazmin and three from Rayne. Jazmin's escalated from "Hi, can't reach you on your cell. Everything ok?" to "I am totally calling the Palm Springs police and reporting you as missing if you do not email or text me TODAY."

  My heart constricted. I had caused Jazmin the same worry and fear Sophia's disappearance had caused me. My fingers sped over the keyboard as I apologized and explained the situation. I included the phone number for Spiral Journeys, and sent a copy of the email to Rayne. Rayne's initial messages had been sent Friday night in the hour leading up to the Winter Showcase.

  Six o'clock: "Left you a text. Now I'm trying email. Where are the fake cigarettes for the soldiers @ the wall scene?"

  Six-ten: "Found them. Urgent! How do we remove a fake beard from Katelyn's chest? Can I cut Yranni's solo for doing this?"

  Six-thirty: "Tanaka nixed axing Yranni. Beard removed."

  Six thirty-five: "Trina is in tears because dance coach yelled at her for a light miscue. Jazmin on warpath. Where are u? Plane?"

  Nine o'clock: "Disaster averted. Everyone wishes you were here. U ok?"

  I sent Rayne a congratulatory message and thanked her for covering for me. Then I emailed Mom and Dad and updated them, ending with "Please call me on Terra's phone or the store's number." Maybe one of my parents would pick up my email on their smartphone.

  I signed out of the account, anxious to get back to the condo. Not just to avoid Lucia and any demons she may have eaten, and not just because I had loads of studying to do. I was anxious to see if Mom and Dad had left a voicemail.

  They hadn't.

  When Aunt Terra saw my face, she handed me her phone. "Try their cells. Do you think they arranged for international calling?"

  "I don't know." The fear, worry, and rejection I had tamped down fought to escape like neon trapped in a glass tube. "The trip was so last minute."

  "Try anyway." Aunt Terra seemed sorry for me, which made me feel worse.

  Dad didn't pick up. My voice cracked as I left a message. Mom didn't answer her cell, either. Bet they were half way to Uruguay by now.

  I pulled out my almanac and closed my eyes. Please let it say something hopeful. The stiff, handmade pages made a cracking sound when I opened to the ribbon bookmark.

  December Eight

  Moon enters Aquarius at 12:34 a.m. Pacific Standard Time

  Tarot: Three of Swords.

  Discord. Heartache. Possible transformation. Gain wisdom from suffering.

  I stared down at the rendering of three swords stabbing a heart.

  This book is the worst present I ever received.

  Chapter Fourteen

  "I sent out those emails you had drafted," Lucia said when we arrived at Spiral Journeys late the next morning.

  My insides freefell like a de-orbiting satellite. "What do you mean?"

  "The letters to the local schools and media." Lucia rolled her narrow, muscular shoulders. "We didn't have any customers, so I tracked down the email addresses and sent them."

  "But I haven't run the idea past Jett yet." I threw Aunt Terra and Uncle Esmun a look of pure panic.

  Uncle Esmun rubbed his nose. "This could be a mess."

  Lucia pushed back her sleeve and flexed her tattoo. "Jett won't wuss out."

  "We don't want to back him into a corner." Aunt Terra lower
ed her voice and modulated each word. "I appreciate your initiative," she told Lucia, "but next time, please wait."

  Lucia shrugged. "Sure. Just trying to do you a favor."

  I stared at her. Those letters spotlighted Jett's fire fortunes as a once in a lifetime chance to glimpse the future. Without Jett, we had no draw. Without Jett, we had a public relations disaster.

  Aunt Terra bit her thumbnail. "Do you think he'll agree?"

  "Don't know," Uncle Esmun said. "Let's wait and see."

  Which is so not my strength. I began to pace. I paused and lit a candle at the Buddha altar. Then I paced some more. Jett has to agree. He just has to. I mean, why wouldn't he? Not only would he be helping Aunt Terra and Uncle Esmun, he'd attract clients for himself. Surely he could use the money. But he's Jett. And Jett doesn't make any sense.

  I consulted my watch. School wouldn't be out for five hours. If I were back home, I would be walking to literature class with Jazmin and planning our Christmas/Kwanzaa shopping. None of this would be happening.

  I retreated into the mystery school and reviewed my last three chemistry chapters. My mind kept wandering. I had opened the Worry File in my mental computer, and I couldn't stop the download. If Jett said no, how could I salvage Aunt Terra and Uncle Esmun's reputation with the schools and media? Was there anyone on the board with a special talent we could use?

  No way could I offer up either of my secret talents — throwing stars — too illegal — or acting — too anxiety producing. Last year, I won the lead in the first school play I'd auditioned for. But the closer we inched toward opening night, the more time I spent in the girls' bathroom with full throttle, hyperventilate-into-a-paper-bag panic attacks. My parents had reacted in their typical way, blaming each other's lousy parenting for the debacle. I'd hidden in my room to shut out the yelling. In the end, I had switched with my understudy and became stage manager. Next year, my college application essay for Columbia would correlate my experiences as stage manager with chaos theory.

  None of which helped with the current situation.

  I gave up and returned to the sales floor. Lucia still hung out by the register. Uncle Esmun spoke to a customer by the gem display. Aunt Terra stocked the candle shelves with new votives. Worry lines creased her forehead, making her look more like Mom than ever. I wanted to help, but I figured she'd rather be alone.

  I wandered the book aisles. Angels. Astrology. Chakras. Tarot. Not one word on how to conjure up a black hole or a space ship. Maybe I should call Mac, the alientologist. Or consult the book hidden inside Portia's tote.

  Spying the fairy and wand display, I thought of Isis. On a hunch, I dropped to my knees and lifted the lavender table drape. Aha! An open jar of fairy dust and two wands littered the carpet. I headed to the storage closet and returned armed with plastic gloves, a spray bottle of glass cleaner, and paper towels. A ten-foot pole and disinfectant would have been nice, but neither seemed available. Isis wasn't completely terrible, I thought, remembering her Dorothy shoes.

  I cleaned the wands as best I could. The rhythmic motion calmed my mind. Slaying germs fooled me into believing I could control something. After I finished, I slipped some money into the register to cover the fairy dust. I wrote Isis/Paid on the top of the jar and initialed it before stashing the glass pot under the register. I had a feeling Isis would be back, and I didn't want her opening any more jars.

  About a half-hour after Aunt Terra and Uncle Esmun left to perform a handfasting — which, I learned, was a Wiccan wedding — I held the door open for Betty and Arthur, the older couple I had met my first day at the store. Arthur tipped his straw fedora.

  "How are you today, dear?' Betty asked.

  "A bit challenged. And you?"

  "I always perk up when I'm here." Betty clasped my hand. I curled my toes to keep from dashing for the liquid sanitizer in my purse. "Is Terra available?"

  "I'm sorry. You just missed her. She and Esmun will be back in a few hours. May I help you with anything?"

  Betty glanced up at her husband, disappointment flitting across her face.

  "We were hoping to get Betty a healing," Arthur explained. "Perhaps Thor is available?"

  My insides fluttered at the sound of Thor's name. "I could call him for you. He should be out of school by now."

  "I don't want to bother him."

  Noting her distress, I patted Betty's hand. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

  Betty produced a wan version of my Junior Cotillion smile. "Thank you, my dear, but clearly it wasn't meant to be." She glanced up at Arthur. "Shall we?"

  He presented his arm. Betty clasped it and leaned into him, looking older than she had the last time I had seen her. "I'll call Terra later and arrange an appointment," Arthur assured his wife. Watching them leave, I wondered if Dad and Mom had ever gazed at each other with the same love and concern.

  A few rock climbers on their way home from the park ventured in. Lucia was in the back on her lunch break, so I greeted them. Eyeing their high-tech clothes and expensive watches, I practiced suggestive selling. "Isn't the mermaid statue stunning? Did you see the matching necklace? Your girlfriend adores incense? How about a scented candle as well?"

  An hour later, I rang up over three hundred dollars in sales. Happiness tingled all the way down to my pedicure.

  Lucia returned to the floor as I waved good-bye to the rock climbers.

  "Check it out." She opened the email program on the computer.

  I scanned the half-dozen new entries. Three were from the principals of the local elementary, middle, and high schools, all saying they appreciated the community support and would post our flyer in their weekly school bulletins. Another was from someone at the Art and Science Foundation, thanking us and saying they'd send over a writer to interview Aunt Terra and Uncle Esmun. One was from the local newspaper, confirming their intent to cover the event. The last was from a Palm Springs New Age spiritual group. They promised to forward our event flyer to their list.

  "Oh, crap," I said.

  Lucia's mouth twisted upward, as if she had discovered a humiliating secret about her worst enemy. "We are so going to rake it in."

  "Jett still has to agree."

  Lucia cracked her knuckles. "He will."

  I wished I had her confidence instead of a growing knot of unease. By the time Jett rolled up to the front door, his skateboard wheels spitting grit, the noose in my stomach was tighter than skinny jeans hot from the dryer.

  "Time for me to clock out." Lucia strode to the back.

  Wow. Thanks for the support.

  I tried to summon my inner Gong Li, Maggie Q, or any helpful dragon lurking about. None heeded my call.

  "Hey." Jett was decked out in a Rolling Stones tee, black hoodie, and frayed jeans.

  "Hey."

  As he stuffed his skateboard and backpack next to my purse under the register counter, I said, "We need to talk."

  "If it's about lunch yesterday—"

  "No," I cut him off. Red-hot embarrassment scorched my cheeks. "It's about your fire fortunes."

  Jett straightened up and threw me a wary look. "What about them?"

  "Could you perform them the evening of December twenty-first?"

  "No. I can't."

  "But it would be a fundraiser for Spiral Journeys and your school's Art and Science Foundation."

  He started to walk away. "Sorry."

  I grabbed his arm and was stung by the erratic energy pulsing beneath his skin. "Terra and Esmun need your help."

  His expression morphed from defiant to unsure, to regretful, to resolved. He shook his head. "I can't."

  Lucia breezed past. "See ya."

  "Good-bye," we said in unison, low and angry like twin growls.

  Lucia froze mid-stride. For a second, her pale blue eyes glowed like embers. She sniffed the air like a dog catching a scent. "Everything okay with you two?"

  "Peachy," Jett answered.

  Lucia's nostrils flared. She slid her thumb and forefinger down
one of her sweatshirt ties.

  "We'll work it out," I said.

  "Sure you don't need help?"

  "We're fine," I lied. If she started strong-arming Jett, I'd lose all hope of snagging him for the event. He struck me as someone who would have serious issues with bullies.

  Lucia regarded me for a moment, then nodded. I held my breath until the front door closed behind her and whatever demon she had devoured for lunch.

  "Jett—"

  "No."

  "Look, Lucia already sent out flyers to the schools and media—"

  "Saying I'd do it?"

  "Yes. She wasn't supposed to. The letters and flyers were just rough drafts."

  He raised his hands, palms toward me like twin stop signs. "This isn't my problem."

  A mother and young daughter entered the store. We both plastered pleasant expressions on our faces. Well, at least I did. Then I reached under the register and grabbed my handbag. I almost knocked over Isis's fairy dust. If I weren't afraid of cooties, I would smear some on. I could use a little magical help. Maybe Isis could loan me her Dorothy shoes.

  Divorce or no divorce, I wished I were home.

  Chapter Fifteen

  "Jett's a jerk!" I mumbled as soon as I was out of earshot of Spiral Journeys. The light breeze and traffic sounds barely registered in my brain. I glanced back twice, unable to shake the feeling someone or something was following me. Although the only footfalls I heard were the slap of my own flip-flops, I was surprised to find the sidewalk empty. I stalked past the consignment store and the gas station with its petrol fumes. By the time I'd reached the artists' collective I felt an inner glow and a definite nudge between my shoulder blades.

  The dragon. Good. Maybe it will teach me how to breathe fire.

  It shadowed me, silently nudging, teasing to life a pair of heavy, invisible wings. My face warmed. I radiated. All my anger and frustration dissolved into the white light. I rolled my shoulders, delighting in the novel tug of muscles, the heft of massive wings.