This Spell Can't Last

by Isabel Sterling

  I reach out with my magic, searching for something else, anything else. If only I was eighteen, I could summon fire. The Casters would have to let go if I had flames on my side. Instead, my power finds the water in the toilet. The thought of manipulating toilet water is gross, but my fear wins out. As the element surrenders to my control, Lexie lowers the vial and Coral releases me.

  “What are you doing?” Tori demands of her fellow Casters, her grip still painfully tight in my hair. With her free hand, she snatches the potion away from Lexie. “We have to stop her.”

  “Let go of me.” I reach for the hand in my hair, but I keep most of my focus on the water. It surges into the air. From there, though, I falter. My magic isn’t meant to be a weapon. I don’t know what to do with the water now that I have it.

  “Tori,” Coral says, a worried tone to her voice. “She’s not a Blood Witch.”

  In a flash of inspiration, I tug on the water’s form, solidifying it. Freezing it. The water twists into a frozen spear, and I draw it forward until the point rests against Tori’s back.

  Finally, finally, she lets go.

  She glances behind her, the movement a blur of blue as she turns back to face me. “You’re an Elemental.”

  I nod, too exhausted to speak. I’ve never held an element this tightly, and my reserve of strength is wearing dangerously thin. The ice spear drops an inch.

  Lexie runs a hand over her face. “What the hell, Tor. You said she was a Blood Witch.”

  A flush of pink warms Tori’s cheeks. “I know. I’m sorry. I—”

  Bang. Bang. BANG.

  I flinch away from the pounding against the door. The ice spear falls and shatters against the tile. The wind tearing through the room finally dies.

  The Casters and I share a look.

  And the pounding begins again.

  Chapter Four

  The knocking rattles the door, each blow more urgent than the last. I take in the room and try to imagine what this will look like to a security guard or angry parent. Four young women locked in a bathroom with shattered ice all over the floor. I have zero idea how to explain this.

  “Please tell me those are more Casters,” I whisper, looking at each girl in turn. “You are Caster Witches, right?”

  “We are,” Coral says, but her gaze stays locked on the door as the knocking starts again. “But it’s just us. There isn’t anyone else.”

  “Hannah? Let me in.” Veronica’s voice drifts through the door, and all the fear drains out of me. She must have sensed my magic when she got close to the bathrooms.

  “Just a sec!” I step forward, but Tori hurries to block my path before I reach the door. She’s mastered the art of the death glare—it even rivals my mom’s—but I won’t let her intimidate me. I reach for the pool of magic in my chest and latch on to the shards of ice, raising them into the air. “Let her in. She’s my girlfriend.”

  Tori holds her ground, but Lexie shakes her head. “Stand down, Tor. We’ve already made enough of a mess.” Lexie reaches for the door, and I drop the broken bits of ice as the lock clicks.

  The second it’s open, Veronica bursts through the door with the force of a tornado. She looks from the three strangers to me, confusion replacing her fear. “What the hell is going on?” she demands as she crushes me in a protective hug. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I say, but it’s muffled by her shoulder. I pull back to look at her. “See?”

  “But I felt it.” She keeps her voice low and glances at the other three girls in the room. “Who are they? Why are you even in here?”

  “Oh. Uh . . .” I look to the Casters when no explanation comes to my lips.

  “Is she like you?” Coral asks. I assume she’s asking whether Veronica’s an Elemental, so I nod. “Oh good. That makes this easier. We’re really sorry about what happened, by the way. Totally bad form on our part.”

  “What made you think I was a Blood Witch in the first place?” Now that the immediate danger is gone, there are a thousand questions swirling through my mind. “And how did you know I was even on this floor?”

  “Hold up.” Veronica raises her hands, and her magic floods the air. It grows charged with static. “Start from the beginning.”

  No one seems to know where to start, the Caster girls each looking to one another, so I tell Veronica what I know. “This is Tori, Coral, and Lexie,” I say, pointing to Ticket Girl, Pink Glasses, and Nose Ring respectively. “They’re Caster Witches.”

  “Seriously?” Veronica’s eyes go wide, but all the distrust and tension melts from her shoulders. The air settles until it’s calm and warm. “That’s awesome! Are you from around here?” She sounds as excited about meeting witches outside our coven as I would have been if my first introduction to the Casters wasn’t a three-against-one attack.

  Tori nods. “I’ve lived in Manhattan my whole life. Coral and Lexie go to NYU.” She reaches for the glass necklace dangling near her collarbone and lifts it so it shines even brighter in the lights. “And this is why I pegged you as a witch.”

  “It took some experimentation,” Lexie cut in, holding up a similar pendant. “Well, some might be an understatement. It took almost three months to figure out a way to adjust a normal tracking spell to pick up magical energy.”

  Tori cuts Lexie a withering look. “It was only supposed to detect Blood Witches. Apparently, it’s not quite there yet.”

  Lexie shrugs. “I never said it was perfect, and it didn’t help that I was trying to finish it during midterms.”

  “Anyway,” Coral cuts in, “that’s why Tor thought you were a Blood Witch. She called us in for backup.”

  “But how did you find me? The museum is huge.”

  Tori slides what looks like a small tin of lip balm from her back pocket. “With this. It’s sort of a . . . locator spell. I put a little on your wrist when I handed back your ticket.”

  I nod, remembering the jolt of static, but something is still nagging at the back of my mind. Some worry that I can’t pin down.

  “And like I said,” Coral continues, “we’re totally sorry about all of this.” She gestures to the general state of the bathroom.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say, even though I’m still a little jumpy from the sudden attack. I don’t know what that potion would have done if I’d swallowed it, and I’m afraid to ask. Something else still scratches at the back of my mind, and I shiver when I finally realize what it is. “Wait. Is there a Blood Witch in the city? Is that why you’re doing all this?”

  The girls nod, and Veronica tenses beside me.

  “It’s a long story, but yes. My family has been fighting back against the Blood Witches in this city my whole life. It’s just me now, and things have been spiraling out of control. Lexie and Coral agreed to help, but we’ve been worried the Blood Witch would call in reinforcements. Hence all the detection spells.”

  “And you thought that backup would arrive as part of a class trip?” I ask, unconvinced.

  Tori groans. “You’re on a school trip? Like high school?” When I nod, she drags her hands through her short, blue hair. “I can’t believe I almost dosed a child with a sleeping spell.”

  “I’m not a child. I’m seventeen.” Though by the looks I get from the Casters, my age isn’t helping my point. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I find a text from Benton, asking where I am. “We actually have to get back. Our bus is loading up soon. Good luck with the Blood Witch thing.”

  “We can’t just leave.” Veronica reaches for my hand and keeps her voice low. “We should help them.”

  Lexie clears her throat. “Your girlfriend’s right. You should get back to your trip. We can handle this on our own.”

  “Actually . . .” Tori kicks a bit of ice that’s melting on the floor. “Having a couple Elementals on our side might help us end this. We could use a little fire p
ower.”

  “Tori, they’re kids.” Coral smiles sympathetically at us. “No offense.”

  “Offense taken. I’m eighteen, and I have plenty of fire power.” Veronica raises her hand and snaps her fingers. A small flame bursts to life and adds a warm glow to her skin. She smirks. “See?”

  “Be careful, V. Don’t set off the fire alarm.” I cover her hand with mine, smothering the flames. I lower my voice until it’s barely more than a whisper, but I know the air will bring the words to her ears. “This is a bad idea. We can’t go against a Blood Witch.”

  “Listen, we don’t have to make any decisions right now.” Tori passes her phone to V. “Give me your number and we can chat. How much longer are you in town?”

  “Just until tomorrow afternoon,” I say as my girlfriend gives a near-stranger her number. “I don’t think we’ll be able to break away. Our chaperones—”

  “Don’t seem to notice you’re missing now,” Tori says, cutting me off. She accepts her phone back from V and types out a quick text.

  Veronica’s phone buzzes, and she saves the number.

  “We’ll be in touch.” Tori pulls open the door and lets Coral and Lexie leave first. “See you around, Elementals.”

  Chapter Five

  I try to forget about the Casters. I try to ignore the fear clawing at my chest that started the moment I learned there was a Blood Witch somewhere in this city. Instead, I focus my attention on the pizza we’re having for dinner and whether it lives up to the hype.

  Veronica has taken a different strategy.

  VM: I still can’t believe we met them. What are the odds?

  VM: Do you think I should text Tori? Offer to help again?

  HW: Seriously? Our parents would kill us.

  Across the table, Veronica scowls when she reads my text. When her emerald gaze flicks up and settles on me, I know I’ve said the exact wrong thing. She wants this, perhaps more than she wants to be valedictorian of her class. It’s written in the lines carving across her forehead.

  And then she’s texting again, her fingers flying across the screen. I clutch my phone tight, waiting for her response, but it never comes. Instead, she grins when someone else replies. My stomach clenches, a combination of jealous and worry.

  HW: Is that Tori?

  I delete the text before I hit send. I don’t want V to feel bad for being interested in the Caster Witches. If it weren’t for the Blood Witch—and the way the Casters tried to shove a potion down my throat—I’d probably feel the same. Instead, I feel like I’ve eaten a plate of rocks.

  “Something wrong?” Gemma asks when I push my half-eaten pizza away.

  “No. I’m not that hungry.” I shrug and scroll aimlessly through Instagram, trying to distract myself from waiting for Veronica to text me back.

  Gem scoffs. “Since when?”

  “Since—” But my phone buzzes and cuts off the rest of my thought.

  VM: We can’t tell our parents. Technically, what happened is against the rules.

  She doesn’t mention the Council, but she doesn’t have to. She’s not wrong either. Even though it was self-defense—on both sides, strangely enough—using magic against another Clan is a serious offense as far as the Council is concerned. Mostly because inter-Clan violence increases the risk of Regs finding out about us.

  “Are you and Veronica fighting?” Gemma’s voice is whisper quiet. If Veronica were a Reg, there’d be no chance she’d overhear. But Veronica isn’t a Reg. If she wanted to, she could pull Gem’s words to her ear. Instead, she’s too busy texting with one hand while eating her pizza with the other.

  “We’re fine,” I say, stashing my phone. “Remind me what show we’re seeing tonight?”

  “Remind you what—Did aliens steal your brain? We’re seeing Hamilton, which I’ve made you listen to at least a hundred times in the past month.” Gemma launches into an explanation of why Hamilton is the best show on Broadway and how bummed she is that we missed the original cast.

  Her excited ramblings don’t stop until we’ve finished dinner, taken the bus to the theater, and settled into our seats. Objectively, we have the worst possible view of the stage, but this reverential hush settles over Gemma when she takes her place on my left and studies her playbill. Veronica sits to my right, and she waits until the lights turn low before she reaches for my hand.

  As the opening music begins, Veronica leans close. “Did you get my last text?” When I shoot her a confused look, she clarifies, “You can’t say anything to your parents.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “I won’t.”

  The performers onstage are incredible, and I try to relax into the story they’re telling. It works for a while, but eventually the show is done and we’re loading back onto the buses. V spends the entire ride back to the hotel on her phone, but none of her texts are for me.

  Gemma, thankfully, keeps me occupied. All the way to our room and through the getting-ready-for-bed process, she’s blasting the soundtrack to the musical and dissecting everything about the performance.

  I try my best to pay attention, but when her comments get too technical, I grab my sketchbook and prop myself up in bed while she dances to her favorite number, making up moves for the parts she can’t remember.

  “Who’s that?” Gemma peers over me, and I flinch at her sudden closeness.

  “What? No one.” I turn the page, hiding the sketch I’d been working on. I hadn’t meant to draw Lexie, Tori, and Coral, but it just sort of happened.

  The song ends and another begins, but Gem turns it off. “You’ve been weird today. Are you sure everything is okay?”

  “Totally fine.” I offer my best smile. “Want to play model again?” I ask, running my hand down a fresh page.

  “Maybe tomorrow.” Gemma flops dramatically onto the bed beside me. She stares at the ceiling, forehead creased, and lets out a long sigh.

  “Everything okay with you?”

  “Yes. No. Maybe.” She spins until she’s lying on her stomach and picks at a loose thread on the hotel’s bleach-white comforter. “Do you think I’m as good as the dancers on Broadway?”

  Her question catches me off guard. I want to respond with an automatic Of course you are! but something about the vulnerability in her voice makes me pause. “Do you want my honest opinion?”

  She nods and bites her bottom lip.

  “Do I think the dancers currently performing in one of the best-ever Broadway shows are better than you are right now? Yes, I do. But! They’re supposed to be.” I reach out and hold Gemma’s hand. “By the time you’re ready to audition, you’ll be dancing circles around all of them.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Absolutely.” I set down my sketchbook and turn until I’m facing her. “Next year, you’ll get into every school you audition for. Juilliard. NYU. Berklee. And if you take pity on your best friend, you’ll attend Purchase College so I can go to the Art Conservatory and we can be roommates.” Purchase is also the only school on Gemma’s list that’s outside a major city but still within a close train ride to the heart of Manhattan. I’d suffocate at any of her other options.

  But even as Gem’s mood improves, mine plummets. I can’t talk about college without remembering the countdown on V’s phone. About how she’s graduating in a few weeks and leaving for Ithaca two months later. She’ll be nearly seven hours away for my entire senior year.

  My parents have supported our relationship from the beginning, but they’re adamant about not letting me follow my girlfriend to college. They want me to forge my own path or some nonsense. Somehow, that doesn’t apply to going to college with my best friend.

  “Thinking about V again?”

  I want to deny it, but I nod instead. “How could you tell?”

  Gem pokes my forehead. “You’re starting to develop a Veronica Face. You get all scrunchy when you�
�re worried about her.”

  “Hey!” I swat her hand away. “I’m not scrunchy.”

  “If you say so.” Gemma cracks a grin. “Besides, I’m pretty confident I can talk you into applying to NYU with me. You’ll be closer to your girlfriend.” She shimmies her shoulders at me.

  My laughter fills the room, and I smack her with a pillow. “You couldn’t pay me to live full-time in this concrete nightmare.”

  “We’ll see.” Gem leaves my bed and climbs into her own, turning off the light on her side of the room.

  “I’m not changing my mind.”

  “Good night, Hannah.”

  I roll my eyes and shut off my light. “Night, Gem.”

  In the dark of the room, the noise of the city swells around us. Traffic and horns and the screech of wheels on the elevated subway tracks. Gemma doesn’t seem to mind, drifting to sleep before I’ve even had a chance to get comfortable. The air carries her slow, calm breaths, letting me know I’m the only one awake.

  As I drift toward sleep, the energy in the air brightens. A trickle of wind caresses my cheek. Hannah. A voice whispers in my ear, husky and breathless all at once. The gentle current brushes across my neck, raising goosebumps along my arms. Hannah, wake up.

  It takes my sleep-hazed brain several seconds to recognize Veronica’s voice as her power fills the air around me. When I do, I bolt upright in bed, grab my phone from the nightstand, and text her that I’m on my way. I swap my pajamas for one of the extra outfits I brought—cute jeans and a plain black V-neck—throw my hair into a messy bun, and brush my teeth again. Just in case.

  When I ease open the door, Veronica is standing on the other side, one hip propped against the wall. Her closeness startles me, which makes her laugh. Her dark hair is swept into a high ponytail, and her jeans hug the curve of her hips.

  “Hey,” I whisper, smiling like a fool.

  “Hey yourself.” Veronica kisses me right there in the doorway of my hotel room, completely unconcerned about my best friend sleeping a few feet away or the possibility that one of the chaperones might walk down the hall, looking for mischief or listening for parties.