by Kami Garcia
Ethan drew his arm around her. Lena was trying, but all the sugar in the world wasn’t going to make this good-bye go down any easier.
Not for the six of them.
Ridley made a face. “If you want to boss people around, Cuz, start a sorority.” She rummaged through a bag of empty chocolate wrappers. “It’s our last night together. So what? Accept it and move on. Tough love, people.” Ridley talked a good game, but deep down she knew her own tough love wasn’t all that much tougher than her cousin’s marshmallow meltdown.
They just had different ways of showing it.
Lena grew still, gazing into the dying fire. “I can’t.” She shook her head. “I’ve left too many people behind too many times. I won’t do it again. Not to you guys. I don’t want everything to change.” She reached for Boo, burying her hands deep in his dark fur. His head dropped down to his paws.
The six friends fell silent, until only the crackling remnants of the campfire could be heard.
Ridley was uncomfortable with the silence, but more uncomfortable with all the feelings talk that had preceded it, so she kept her mouth shut.
It was finally Link who spoke up. “Yeah, well, change happens. I used to really love these things,” he said, squeezing a marshmallow between his fingers. He shoved John, who was sitting on a rock between Link and Liv. “Dude. When you turned me into an Incubus, you shoulda warned me about the whole we-don’t-need-to-eat-and-everything-tastes-like-crap thing. I would’ve eaten a bunch a stuff for my last meal.”
John held up a fist. “You’re only a quarter Incubus, you big stud, and I did you a favor. No one would’ve ever called you a big stud if you’d kept eating those things.”
“No one calls him that now,” Ethan said.
“What are you saying?” Link was indignant.
“I’m saying, you used to be kinda sorry, Stay Puft, and now the chicks are lining up. You’re welcome.” John sat back.
“Oh, please,” Ridley said. “As if his head could get any bigger.”
“That’s not the only thing that’s bigger.” Link winked, and everyone groaned. Ridley rolled her eyes, but he didn’t care. “Oh, come on. Like you didn’t see that one comin’.”
Lena sat up straight, looking over the fire at the faces of her five closest friends in the world.
“All right. Forget this. Forget good-bye. So what if we’re going to college tomorrow?” Lena glanced at Ethan.
“And England.” Liv sighed, taking John’s hand.
“And Hell,” Link added, “if you ask my mother.”
“Which no one is,” Rid said.
“What I mean is, we don’t have to do this the Mortal way,” Lena said. Ethan stared at her strangely, but Lena kept going. “Let’s make a pact instead.”
“Just no blood oaths,” John said. “Which would be the Blood Incubus way.”
Link perked up at the thought. “Is that another camp thing? ’Cause we definitely didn’t get to do that at church camp.”
Lena shook her head. “Not blood.”
“Maybe like a spit promise?” Link looked hopeful.
“Eww,” Rid said, shoving him off his log.
“Not a spit promise.” Lena leaned in, holding her hand over the fire. The flames reflected against her palm, turning orange and red and even blue.
Rid shivered. Her cousin was up to something, and with powers as unpredictable as Lena’s, that wasn’t always a good idea.
The embers glowed under Lena’s fingertips. “We need to mark this occasion with something a little stronger than s’mores. We don’t need to say good-bye. We just need a Cast.”
CHAPTER 2
Symptom of the Universe
The six friends had talked circles around the idea, until the moon had risen and the fire had all but died, and even then Link wasn’t really sure what was going on.
They’re just feeling low, he thought. Don’t think there’s a Cast for that. Still, he wasn’t going to be the one to break the news. If Lena and Liv wanted to pretend there was something anyone could do to change the fact that they were all getting the hell out of Gatlin tomorrow, Link wasn’t going to pop that bubble. He’d learned to stay out of the way when it came to Casters and their Casts.
“Here’s what we want: something that says that no matter where we go, no matter what we do, we will always, always be there for each other.” Lena nudged Ethan in the moonlight. “Right?”
“Do you really have to ask?” Ethan mumbled, sleepily nuzzling her neck. “We don’t need a Cast for that.”
“Anywhere? Even across an ocean?” Liv asked, squeezing John’s hand.
Link looked away. It was a long-established fact that John was basically following Liv halfway across the world like a whipped dog so Liv could finish studying at Oxford while completing her Keeper training. It was nothing like what Link had ever had with Rid, even back when they did have something.
But tonight John and Liv were happy as clams because they were staying together, while you couldn’t chisel Ethan and Lena apart with a spatula the size of Link’s Beater. They were headed to schools in the same state but different cities; that was the compromise they had reached with their families. Link couldn’t even remember the names, though he’d pretended to listen to a thousand conversations about them—the schools, their dorms, their reading lists. Blah, blah, blah. All he knew was they’d be at rival schools in sleepy old towns up in Massachusetts (or Michigan, or maybe Minnesota—heck, what was the difference?) ninety minutes apart. You would think it was nine hundred miles, the way they’re acting.
Whipped as Thanksgiving potatoes.
Still, Link smiled at the sweet stupidity of it all. Who was he to judge? If anybody had a shot, it was Ethan and Lena. Even John and Liv had managed to keep it together. It was only Link and Ridley who were Gatlin’s biggest basket case of a relationship.
Ex-relationship, he reminded himself.
“Nothing’s going to change.” Lena’s tone turned serious. “We won’t let it. We’ve been through enough together to know that the people you care about are the only thing that matters.”
Link caught Ridley’s eye in the flickering firelight, in spite of everything. Ridley looked away, pretending to listen to what Lena was saying, as if she cared. Anything to ignore me, Link thought. That’s her trick, same as always, and she still thinks I don’t know what she’s up to.
Just like the old days.
“So, you think a Cast will keep us together?” Ridley asked, pretending to listen. “Can’t we just, I don’t know, send postcards?”
Lena ignored her. “Maybe Marian would have an idea.”
“Or maybe she wouldn’t. Because it’s a bad idea,” Ridley said.
“No, wait. I think I’ve got it.” Liv’s braids were coming undone, and she sounded exhausted. But the sparks in her eyes burned as bright as the remnants of the campfire. “A Binding Cast. It’s how Ravenwood protects itself and keeps those who would do harm out, right? Binds a person to a place? Couldn’t it also Bind six people together? Theoretically.”
Lena shrugged. “A Binding Cast for people? It could work. I can’t think of a reason why it wouldn’t.”
Link scratched his head. “Work how? Like, our hands are permanently stuck together in a group hug? Or like, we can read each other’s minds? Can you get a little more specific?” Not that I’d mind being Bound to Rid, he thought. At least, it wouldn’t suck.
Lena stared into the glowing embers. “Who knows? We’re kind of winging it here. There aren’t a whole lot of Casts about Binding people.”
“Or, you know. Any.” Ridley sighed. “So why am I the only person who thinks we should get out the peach schnapps and go bowling instead?” No takers. “How about breakfast, then?”
Link kicked a clod of dirt toward the fire. When had Rid gotten so worried about using her powers? She’d been like that ever since the summer. Skittish as a new pup, and about as nervous.
“This isn’t black magic, Rid,” Lena sa
id. “If we do something wrong, we’ll undo it.”
“When have those words ever not come back to haunt you?” Ridley shook her head at her cousin.
“Nothing big,” Lena said. “Just a little something so we don’t forget about each other. Like a Forget-Me-Not. A memento. I could do it in my sleep.”
Rid raised an eyebrow. “Someone’s gotten a little cocky since she brought Boyfriend back from the dead.”
Lena ignored the dig and held out her hand to Ridley. “Everyone join hands.”
Ridley sighed and took Lena’s hand, also taking Link’s warm and sweaty one.
He grinned and gave her a squeeze. “Is this gonna be kinky? Please let this be kinky.”
“Please let you shut up,” said Rid. But it was hard not to smile, and she had to make an effort to keep her bratty expression in place.
John took Liv’s hand, and Liv took Link’s. Ethan grabbed hands with John and Lena to complete the circle.
Lena closed her eyes and began to speak in a low tone. “There is a time beyond mountains and men—”
“Is that it?” Link asked. “The Cast? Or are you just makin’ it up? Because I thought all your Casts were in Lat—”
Lena opened her eyes and glared, one green eye and one gold flashing in the remaining firelight. Link’s mouth shut and his voice was silenced for him, Caster-style. Link swallowed, hard. Lena might as well have slapped duct tape across his face.
He got the message.
Then she closed her eyes again. As she spoke, Link could almost see the words on the page, as if a scroll had opened itself for them.
“There is a time beyond mountains and men
When our six-faced moon must rise.
If you call for me, I will come to you then,
And our six-headed horse will ride.
Though Sixteen Moons began our thread,
And Nineteen Moons must end us,
Let us always be Bound by the Southern Star,
And when in grave danger—
Send us.”
Lightning flashed in the sky, ripping across the dark clouds and reflecting in the still surface of the lake. Boo growled.
A shiver rolled through all six of them—like a cold current coming from the lake itself—and they dropped hands, as if some invisible force had ripped them apart.
The circle was broken.
Link tried his voice and found to his relief that he could use it. Which was good, since he had something to say.
“Sweet buckets of crap! What was that?” Link opened his eyes. “ ‘Grave danger’? And ‘send us’? Send us where? What are you talkin’ about?” His voice was raspy, as if he’d just been yelling.
Lena looked uncomfortable. “Those are just the words that came to me.”
John sat up on his rock. “Wait, what?”
Lena squirmed. “I wasn’t expecting the danger part. But it’s all good, right?” She frowned as soon as she said it. “I guess it doesn’t sound that great, does it?”
“You think?” Ridley tried another position on her hard log seat. She didn’t look happy.
“Could it be an omen?” Liv’s face clouded. “A warning or a threat about something that’s going to end us?”
Lena shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s meant to be whatever it is. I mean, it’s just what came out when I tried to focus on the Binding.”
That was when Link lost it. “What do you mean, that’s what came out? How could you work a Cast without knowin’ what you’re Castin’? What if it’s somethin’ really bad? Because Lord knows that’s never happened to us before!”
Ethan punched Link’s arm. “Chill out, Mrs. Lincoln.”
Link shot him a dirty look, which Ethan deserved. It was basically the meanest thing you could say to Link.
Still.
Get control of yourself, dude.
“Lena knows what she’s doing.” Ridley tried to sound confident.
If she says it enough times, maybe it will be true, Link thought.
“Ridley’s right. It’s fine. Everything’s okay. No one panic.” But Liv didn’t look like she believed a word she was saying.
Lena didn’t look all that relieved, either. “Well, we should be Bound now. See? Something’s happening.” She motioned to the fire.
There, beneath the rising mound of gray ash and log, was a strange pulsing light. Lena leaned forward, blowing away the ash.
What remained were six glowing blue lumps of burning ember.
“Beautiful,” Liv said.
As everyone watched, the lumps—more like orbs—rose into the air, spinning and hovering above the flames. Boo whined at Lena’s feet.
“Whoa,” Link said.
Lena reached forward with a finger, closer and still closer, until the blue orbs burst into a shower of sparks and vanished.
“Is that it? The finale?” Ethan studied the dying embers.
“I don’t know.” Lena grabbed a stick and poked tentatively at the ash.
“Look. It’s still sparking.” Liv leaned closer.
Lena dug in the hot ash with her fingers. “There.” She held something up. “Six of them. One for each of us.”
“What is that thing?” Ethan was staring. Everyone was. It wasn’t an everyday sight, not in Gatlin County or the whole Mortal world. There was a tiny ring in Lena’s hand, delicate and translucent. If you looked at it from a distance, it resembled some sort of delicately blown glass.
Lena slipped the ring on her finger. It fit perfectly, and the light inside it flared brightly and then died out.
“Go on. It won’t hurt you.” She stared at her finger as she spoke.
Ethan reached for a ring, then paused. “You think.”
“I know,” Lena said. “The whole point of a Binding Cast is protection.” She didn’t sound sure.
Ethan took a breath and slipped a ring on his finger. John followed suit, then Liv.
Rid slowly did the same.
Five rings were on five fingers. The sixth just sat there, glowing in the embers. Waiting.
“Hey, man.” Ethan elbowed Link. “Take it.”
“Give me a minute, Frodo. I gotta think about this.” Link ran his hand through his hair.
“Really? We’re going to start that now?” John shook his head.
But one look from Rid and the sixth ring went on before Link could say another word.
Personally, Ridley thought the whole ring thing was kind of stupid. She didn’t make Link wear his to please her cousin. To be honest, she didn’t remotely understand the concept of peer pressure that Mortals talked about all the time. Who would ever do something because someone else wanted them to do it? When someone wanted Ridley to do something, she almost automatically wanted to do the exact opposite.
Binding Rings included.
But given the brief history of her friends in Gatlin County, Ridley didn’t feel like taking any chances. Nobody could argue that lightning wouldn’t strike twice. Not for the Casters and Mortals of Gatlin County.
Not even Ridley.
If a stupid ring from a Natural would keep bad things from happening, she’d wear it. She’d wear one on every finger if it helped her get out of the trouble she had gotten herself into this summer.
Everyone else was going off to start their future tomorrow. Ridley was going to try to undo her past.
CHAPTER 3
Master of Puppets
In the shadows of the Underground, anything can look evil.
That was what the guy standing on the edge of an ancient New York City subway platform thought. He was eighteen years old, and he still dreaded coming down here. He shook the unruly lengths of caramel-colored hair away from his gold-flecked eyes.
It’s impossible to know the difference between darkness and Darkness down here, even for a Dark Caster like me.
And Lennox Gates was plenty Dark.
The pale girl sitting on the edge of the platform across the tracks from him was not plagued by the same philosophical questi
ons. Slumping inside a fitted black leather jacket quilted in diagonal stripes, she looked like a futuristic criminal. Her hair was buzzed down to an inch, except for a stripe of spiky blue that ran down the center of her head. Only her baby face looked innocent.
Dangerous, but innocent.
Lennox thought about her future. He wished he hadn’t seen it, but he couldn’t stop himself from picking up on the things he did, every time he accidentally looked into a fireplace, a lit candle, or even a flickering lighter. Her future, like so many others, had come to him in bursts, like the flash on a camera, streaming a high-speed flood of information he couldn’t control. He had seen anguish and guilt, blood and betrayal.
Love.
The Dark Caster Necromancer was in for a wild ride.
Leaning against one of the support beams, her eyes milky white and opaque instead of their normal Dark Caster gold, she didn’t look conscious. He felt bad about their arrangement, though she’d agreed to the contract. It had been her idea to wipe it from her mind, for security reasons. Like so many Necromancers, she didn’t want to know what she was saying or who was saying it. Though the girl wouldn’t remember any of this, he would—every dull, wasted moment.
Why did I have to inherit this mess, along with everything else they left me?
The ring of candles surrounding her on three sides had burned down to waxy puddles. Spirals of smoke drifted up toward her blank face. Her legs dangled over the edge of the tracks, kicking involuntarily to an unknown rhythm.
It’s a good thing these tracks are abandoned. If a train came by, those legs would be cut from her body, Necromancer or not, Lennox thought. As good as she was, she couldn’t protect herself in this state. She relied on him, and he could never forget it.
Occupational hazard of her job.
He slid a cigar from the inside pocket of his black trench and considered it. He hated the smell of cigars—and the smell of this one in particular.
Occupational hazard of mine.
He stared at the cigar as if he wanted it to disappear—as if he wanted to disappear right along with it. But he couldn’t. He was the last of his family line, and there was still work to be done, even if he didn’t want any part of it.