Spell Struck: Book 2 (The Teen Wytche Saga)

by Ariella Moon

  "What would you do if you found it?" Kali asked.

  Magdalena's crow eyes glittered with imagined fortune. "What do you think?" Her fingertips danced against her thumb as if she could already feel the hundred-dollar bills. "I'd use the spells to make everyone who ever lied to me suffer as I have suffered." Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Then I'd return to Romania and find my daughter."

  "She's dead, old woman. I keep telling you," Papo said.

  "No!" Magdalena stood so quickly the blanket fell to her feet. "You lie! They all lied — the cops, the hospital…"

  "Irina was in the car."

  "No. Only my husband was in the car."

  Papo stabbed his finger at Magdalena's scuffed satchel. "The police gave you her valise!"

  "It doesn't prove anything." Magdalena clutched the bag to her chest. "It was Tuesday. He said he was sending Irina away on Wednesday. That's why we had to do it on Tuesday."

  My skin crawled. "Do what?"

  Magdalena ignored me.

  "Where was he sending Irina?" Kali asked.

  "To Romania, where we had adopted her. He said Irina had been in the orphanage too long. She'd never be normal. We had to send her back. I refused." Magdalena jutted her chin at Papo. "Irina wasn't supposed to be in the car. Not on Tuesday."

  "It wasn't my fault he lied to you. How was I to know?"

  Suspicion tiptoed through my brain. "What caused the crash?"

  Magdalena glared at Papo.

  Chills tingled my arms. Papo sabotaged the car. They colluded to kill Magdalena's husband. I clutched my fists to stop the shudder threatening to ripple through me. My brain careened back to the day I had first met Magdalena. I spotted Kali on the steps of the Asian Art Museum. Dark energy swirled around the old woman sitting beside her. I started to skitter away, but Kali spied me and called out. I didn't want her to think I was a coward, so I crossed the street and joined her.

  "This is Magdalena. She reads palms."

  "Show me your hand, boy."

  I slid my hands behind my back and laced my fingers together.

  "Afraid of an old woman, dearie?" Magdalena's voice rose with the taunt.

  Kali blinked at me, her expression fathomless.

  Reluctantly, I presented my hand. Magdalena snatched it up in her claw and traced the lines in my palm. Foul energy sparked from her fingertip. I tried to pull away, but she tightened her grip. A wild gleam flared in her eyes.

  "Where do you live, boy?"

  "He and his dad are on the streets, same as us," Kali said.

  Magdalena's energy spiked crazily. The force of it knocked me out of her grasp. "I gotta go," I told Kali. I ran off, but not before I saw the shrewd expression on Magdalena's face. A week later, my whole life had changed.

  Kali and I stacked our bowls in the kitchen sink, then headed out. I rubbed my arms beneath the lamplight. White vapors huffed out of my mouth when I spoke. "Did you know they were killers?"

  "Not for sure. Not until tonight."

  "You knew they'd never let us go, so you never tried to escape."

  "I knew they'd never let you go. I'm responsible for you."

  "Kali—"

  "I don't want to talk about it." She disappeared into the fog, holding a clean plastic bucket. To get water, we had to steal it from a neighbor's outdoor hose. I quickly lost sight of her. I waited a moment, listening for trouble. When I didn't hear a bark or shout or scream, I moved on. Shivering, I hiked the neighborhood in search of more firewood. Plenty of branches had fallen during yesterday's storm. The trick was to stay one step ahead of the gardeners — the mow-and-blow guys. The way I figured it, I was doing them a favor by picking up the deadfall. Hopefully we'd still be around by the time the twigs and branches dried.

  Back at the house, light from the street lamp filtered through the mist, dimly illuminating the path to the front door. Kali let me in, stamping her feet to keep them warm.

  "Did you find water?"

  She nodded, teeth chattering. The temperature inside had plummeted once the sun had slid from view. I dumped the armful of wet branches on the stone hearth, brushed off the front of my jacket, and then dropped onto my sleeping bag and untied my hiking boots. If I crawled in, maybe it would take the edge off the cold. The wall-to-wall carpeting provided a meager cushion. It wasn't as nice as a mattress, but better a shag carpet than a hardwood floor, or worse, linoleum over concrete.

  Wedged between the flannel-lined down, I began my nightly mantra.

  I will finish high school.

  I will go to college.

  I will live in a warm house with running water and electricity.

  I will get a girlfriend.

  I will find Bronwyn.

  Art class, especially Salem, replayed in my mind. My stomach did a little flip as I remembered the current that had passed between us. Papo would yank me out of town in the dead of night if he thought I had broken Rule Number One: don't get attached; don't get involved. Still…

  I pulled the sleeping bag up over my mouth so Papo couldn't see my expression. He may control my life, but he can't control my thoughts — especially not the ones about a pretty, crazy-smart fairy witch pretending to be Goth Girl. I drifted off debating the harm of sitting at her table for one more day.

  The next morning I woke before dawn. Papo and Magdalena's snores rumbled through the frigid, barren room. The fire in the fireplace had long since died. Kali rolled over, her sleeping bag pulled up to her eyes. I don't know how she breathed.

  I flicked on my flashlight and checked the watch Kali had given me for my birthday. Six-fifteen. Good. I had plenty of time to chow down a banana, change into a clean shirt, and walk to school. The trick was to get there after the janitors opened up the bathrooms, but before the rest of the students arrived. I didn't want anyone catching me taking a spit bath or brushing my teeth.

  I slipped out quietly. Mist slicked the gate latch. Once I reached the sidewalk, the owl hoo-hooed. I craned upward and spotted the great horned owl perched high in the birch tree. It swiveled its head and stared past me. Following the owl's gaze, I peered at the shrubs lining the picket fence across the street. Between a pair of holly bushes, two forlorn-looking eyes blinked up at me.

  I froze. Not a skunk. Not a coyote. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, the creature trembled. "Artemis?"

  The tiny dog tried to step out of the bushes, but something held her back.

  "It's okay." I slowly crossed the street and approached the frightened Yorkie. "Are you stuck?" I crouched and held out my hand for Artemis to sniff. Her cold nose nudged my knuckle, then she gave me a tentative lick. Razor-like leaves scratched my hands as I worked to free the dog's harness.

  "You're lucky the owl or a coyote didn't get you." My words set off a wave of whimpering. "Don't worry, I'll take you home." I finally extricated the little beast and scooped her up in my arms. The dog snuggled against me and shivered.

  I located the house with the broken step and carried Artemis up the stairs. A warm amber light glowed behind closed curtains. As I approached the front door, a dog, probably Mitzi, emitted sharp, hysterical barks. Artemis's ears perked up. Before I could press the doorbell, the door flew open.

  "You found her! Oh thank you, thank you!" June reached out and Artemis leaped into her arms. "My poor baby! She's freezing. I thought for sure some mean old coyote had snapped her up." June hugged Artemis to her chest. Noticing my scratched hands, she exclaimed, "You're bleeding! Did Artemis bite you? Come in, come in," she said, not waiting for an answer.

  I stepped into the welcome heat. "She didn't bite me. She was stuck between a pair of holly bushes. I got cut freeing her."

  "You are my hero. Come, come, follow me." June led me into a cozy kitchen and pulled a fuzzy dog bed close to the heat register. Artemis jumped into the bed and Mitzi snuggled in beside her. "I couldn't sleep all night," June said. Which explained the purple dragon bathrobe over pants and sensible-looking shoes. "And I haven't been able to eat since Artemis went miss
ing."

  June slid my messenger bag from my shoulders, her arm dipping when she realized its full weight. Despite it smelling like the back of the van and rightfully looking like it had never been washed, she hefted it onto her spotless white counter. "Here." She handed me a bar of soap. "Wash your hands." She laid a purple hand towel on the tile. "I'll be right back with some ointment."

  "I don't need anything." The warm water splashed over my cuts, stinging so sharply I sucked in air. At least the heat thawed my hands. The soap was a billion steps up from the rough soap powder dispensed in the city shelters. Breathing in the lavender-and-chamomile lather, my feet warmed by the heat blasting from the register, time faded away. I remembered my mother and our second-story walk-up in San Francisco. My heart constricted.

  I rinsed the soap from my hands and flicked the excess water into the sink. June appeared at my side — I hadn't realized she had left — and draped the towel over my hands and patted them dry. "Put this ointment on while I cook you an omelet. You like bacon?"

  "Yes, ma'am, but—"

  "No buts about it. Sit down." She pulled out a cushioned chair from the round table in the nook. The morning paper lay scattered across the polished wood. Red amaryllis in a glass vase perfumed the room. "And don't worry about school. I'll drive you so you won't be late."

  Dizzy from hunger and the air as warm as my mother's touch, I sank into the chair. The energy in the room was everything I had missed since Mom had become ill. I breathed it in, trapping it in my lungs for as long as possible… a lifeline to my past.

  Chapter Seven

  "Do you see him?" Evie scanned the cafeteria.

  "Will you stop?" A rush of embarrassment heated my cheeks. "You don't even know what Aidan looks like."

  "But I know everyone else. Duh. Power of elimination." Evie's eyes gleamed. "He'll be the only handsome, mysterious stranger."

  I took a long swig of water. It was a perfectly normal act, one I hoped masked my pounding heart, which felt like a marathoner's on the final leg of a race. "Why aren't you eating in Mr. Ross's room?" Evie and Parvani usually hid out in the video production room to avoid Evan MacDonald and Tommy Deitch. Maybe the bullying had calmed down since Evie had started dating Jordan and had reached a truce of sorts with Evan.

  Evie swallowed a bite from her peanut butter and blackberry jam sandwich. "Parvani is freaked out over a new assignment in Honors Geometry. She has Hindi class and piano after school, so she and Jordan and Zhù are holed up in the library."

  A commotion arose from the long, restless line at the hot lunch counter. Tommy Deitch cut to the front of the line and shoved a ninth-grade boy out of his way. The boy crashed into the kid behind him, and soon the line disintegrated like falling dominoes.

  Evie rolled her eyes and reached for a shiny apple. "Besides," she continued, "I would much rather be on stakeout with you."

  "Whom are you staking out?"

  My abdomen fluttered. Aidan had approached us from behind and stood so close his jacket brushed my shoulder. He stuck out his hand, which was covered in angry-looking scratches, and said to Evie, "Hi. I'm Aidan."

  To her credit, Evie didn't scream — at least not out loud. Instead, a dazzled expression lit her, as if she had just come face-to-face with Shay Stewart, her movie star crush. She half rose from her chair and shook Aidan's hand. "Hey. I'm Evie."

  "Mind if I join you?"

  "Suit your—"

  "Please!" Evie's blush fast-tracked to her strawberry blond hairline.

  Aidan scraped back a chair and sat next to me. "Thanks. New school," he explained to Evie in a conspiratorial whisper. "This is my first full day. Salem and I have Art together."

  "Really?" Evie sounded so surprised, she almost convinced me. "Cool."

  Aidan fished a sack lunch out of his black messenger bag and pulled out some spring rolls, a plastic container of chicken salad, a small jar of what smelled like ginger-sesame seed dressing, and an orange. For a second he just stared at the feast. His expression of wonder and gratitude tugged at me, as though a spell link connected my heart to his.

  Oh no, the love spell.

  Evie broke the silence. "Your salad looks awesome. Who made it?"

  "My neighbor did. I rescued her dog this morning from the jaws of two holly bushes." He held out his hands. "I think the bushes won."

  "Oh my." I brushed my fingertips across his skin near a particularly deep scratch. The contact sent a lightning jolt up my arm and a troop of fairies took flight within me. "Do they hurt?"

  "Nah. I'll live." He pushed back his hoodie sleeves, revealing a narrow bracelet of woven cloth strips.

  "Was the dog okay?" Evie asked.

  "I think she spent the whole night freezing and in terror. Otherwise, Artemis is fine."

  "Artemis? Your neighbor named her dog after a goddess?"

  Aidan's lips lifted in an impish smile. He leaned closer and my breath caught low in my throat. His finger, cool and calloused, brushed across my temple, tracing my eyeliner swirl. "I knew you would like it."

  I shivered. He thought of me!

  "Isn't Artemis a guy's name?" Evie asked. "You know, like the character in The Wild, Wild West."

  "Artemis is the Greek goddess of the hunt and protection." I ran my hand down my poufy mauve scarf with its tiny white stars, trying to flatten it. I felt too conspicuous in the muted color, even though the rest of my outfit was black. This morning when I had looped it around my neck, the grimoire had chirped.

  "A maiden huntress—" Aidan pretended to draw back an invisible arrow notched in a bow "—whose aim never erred."

  "The Temple to Artemis at Ephesus was one of the Seven Wonders of the World." The scarf puffed up again. What had I been thinking, taking fashion advice from a spell book?

  "Sounds like a good place to photograph."

  "Evie is the photo editor for Yearbook," I explained.

  Aidan's brows lifted. "Too bad the temple was destroyed centuries ago. Arson."

  "Wow." Evie slid me a sideways glance. "You two sure have a lot in common. Art. Goddesses." She honed in on Aidan. "Did you take a class in mythology?"

  "No." A wounded look flashed in Aidan's eyes before he managed to mask it. "My mother taught me."

  Evie pressed her foot against mine, and I knew she was thinking the same thing I was — he's perfect.

  The bell sounded, marking the end of lunch. Aidan downed the last spring roll in two bites then carefully packed up the orange and the empty food containers.

  "Math," Evie wailed.

  "Be brave." It was her worst subject. At least Aidan had distracted her so she hadn't had time to get too anxious.

  "Aidan?" The tenth-grade class president oozed up to Aidan and snaked her arm through his. She reminded me of Amy — pretty, confident, popular. My lunch soured in my stomach.

  "Did you forget? I promised to escort you to Biology. You should have sat with me!"

  "Sorry. I ran into my friends. " He threw me an apologetic look. "I met Meadow in third period."

  Meadow pursed her lips into a pout. "We only have two classes together."

  "Quod a misericordia," I muttered. Yeah. A real pity.

  Aidan chuckled. "Absolute."

  A hurt and confused expression passed over Meadow's face and she loosened her grip on Aidan. She may not have understood our Latin, but she knew a diss when she heard one. Guilt and relief warred within me. I retreated, just like I had with the Shakespeare scripts. Hoisting my twenty-three-pound backpack over my shoulder, I squeezed a pleasant tone into my voice. "Have fun, you two."

  Meadow's expression brightened. "Thanks. Cute scarf."

  "Thanks." I could tell she meant it. No wonder everyone liked her.

  "See you in Art," Aidan said.

  I waved him off, outgunned and defeated.

  When they were out of earshot, Evie grabbed my arm. "Don't worry about Meadow. Aidan is totally into you."

  "Yeah, because I'm such a catch compared to Miss Popularity."
>
  "Yes, you are." She jerked my arm. "Take a closer look. What do you see?"

  A guy who looks as gorgeous from the back as he does from the front.

  "Check their body language," Evie insisted.

  I watched them cross the cafeteria. Every few steps, Meadow tried to pull Aidan closer. Aidan kept easing away. When they neared the double doors, he glanced over his shoulder, searching until he found me. Our gazes locked. Aidan winked, then disappeared across the threshold, towed by Meadow.

  Evie squeezed my arm. "Told you so."

  An ember of hope fanned to life within me. "We'll see."

  ****

  Thoughts of Aidan tumbled through my mind, making it difficult to concentrate on World History and Geography. Does he have a girlfriend? How does he know Latin? Does he like Meadow? Everyone likes Meadow…

  After the bell, I headed for Drama. The wind had picked up. The chill stung my cheeks, and I wondered if they were as red as everyone else's. I plastered an aloof, slightly hostile expression on my face as my gaze darted from clutches of cheerleaders and jocks to trios of nerds and random others. No sign of Aidan. Maybe Meadow had kidnapped him.

  I had almost reached the auditorium when I sensed a warm presence behind me.

  "Saluteum, fairy puella." Aidan maneuvered to my side. The top of my head might graze his shoulder if we were face-to-face and close enough to hug. Which, of course, we would never…

  "Do I look like a fairy girl to you?"

  "Absolute."

  "Then, good sir, I have failed in my mission."

  "Utterly. Sorry. The whole Goth Girl look is a good glamour, though. You had me fooled at first."

  Goose bumps tiptoed down my neck. "What makes you think it's a glamour?"

  Aidan glanced about, then leaned down and whispered, "Your energy field."

  Are you serious? I flipped through my mental arsenal of snarky comebacks. Nothing surfaced. Realizing I was gaping like a fish in an animated movie, I closed my mouth. Aidan held open the auditorium door, then followed me inside.

  "Do you have Drama, or are you stalking me?"

  "Both."

  The prospect buzzed my brain. "How'd Bio go with Meadow?"