Cursed Magic
Page 4
I promised Jade an assassin whose power and ruthlessness would be unmatched by any who try to stand against her. But I’m not entirely sure I can keep that promise.
There are a dozen people milling around different areas of the repository. I’m sure at least one of them works here, but I’m not in the mood to ask for assistance. I don’t know my way around here nearly as well as I ought to, but I know enough to get started. Like any library, the texts here are divided by subject, and dark occult practices are located in the east wing. I take care to stroll at a leisurely pace as I make my way there. One drawback of being in the running to become the next high priest is that everyone knows my face. Occasionally, people will stop me to chat—usually to request that I do something for them. Typically I’m able to smile and nod through such distractions, but I don’t have time for pleasantries today. I don’t want to give Jade an excuse to seek help from anyone else—especially not Lena Wiley.
There is danger in bringing someone from outside into our ranks. Kai was loyal to us because we had years to build his trust, to direct his rage. After the events that led to Krissa’s current condition, she has no reason to pledge her allegiance to us. There is the promise of power, of course—but she already possesses the strongest power I’ve ever heard of. She doesn’t need us for that. Luckily I can give her something else: a target for her rage. The Amaranthine always have a target in need of punishment.
What if it’s still not enough? I trail my finger over a nearby shelf. My nose wrinkles automatically at the collection of dust that gathers there. The east wing isn’t a place frequented by many.
Perhaps there’s a way to bind her allegiance to us. It’s worth looking into. If such a spell exists, it would surely be found here. I murmur an incantation, a simple locater spell to point me in the right direction. As my fingertips brush the spine of a black book with gold lettering, movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention.
I drop my hand as I turn. Lena Wiley stands in the doorway, head cocked curiously to the side. I bite back a curse. Of course she works here. She’s a researcher. I should’ve been more on guard as I walked through.
“Can I help you?” I ask, even though she should probably be the one to ask the question.
She doesn’t respond right away. Her eyes flick to the shelf behind me and I’m positive she’s trying to figure out which book I was reaching for. “Do you really think it’ll work?” she asks, taking a step into the room.
I lift an eyebrow. She’s talking like we’re continuing a conversation. While I’m certain I know what’s she’s asking, I refuse to engage her so informally. If she wants to know something, she can be specific.
After a long pause, a smile curves her lips. She seems to sense what I’m thinking, even though I’m fairly certain she’s not a psychic. There aren’t many psychics in the Amaranthine. Most of those who split off from the Devoted were witches, and it’s magic that thrives in our blood. The few psychics in our community hold jobs related to advising and information gathering. If she had those abilities, she wouldn’t be a research assistant.
“You’ve got a reputation, you know that?” she asks, curling her fingers over the back of a chair and leaning forward.
She’s still being indirect. Two can play at this. “Do I, now?” Too bad I can’t get a read on her. I’m usually good at judging people, but she’s tricky.
“The women think you’re charming. Is that your plan with Krissa Barnette? Are you going to charm her into being the assassin?”
I grit my teeth. So that’s her angle—she’s on a fact-finding mission. Her reputation plus her impertinence when it comes to proper decorum with Jade is helping me paint a picture of her ambitions. She’s after the same thing I am. Does this child honestly think she has a chance at becoming the next high priestess? The idea is so absurd it’s almost laughable.
But for some reason, I can’t bring myself to laugh. Something tugs at the back of my mind. What if I can’t convince Krissa to take the position? If Jade counts that as another failing, what does that do to my chances of taking her place when she steps down? And what if it’s Lena who impresses her in the meantime? While the Amaranthine vote, the exiting priestess’s nod is nearly a guarantee of victory.
When I don’t respond, Lena pushes away from the chair. As she strides toward me, her eyes don’t leave my face. “You know, I always thought Kai was the absolute perfect specimen of an assassin. His magical prowess paired with his bloodlust…” She shakes her head, that same smile playing about the corners of her lips. “There was talk in some circles about how he’d die of old age before anyone managed to beat him for the job. But now, because of you, it seems there is someone better. I have to admit, there’s no one on any list I could come up with who sounds as qualified as this Barnette girl. She killed Seth. She killed Kai. Who could beat that?”
She’s an arm’s length away now. Her words are carefully chosen to flatter me, but her trick won’t work: I’ve done this to too many people in my day to be taken in by it—especially when the tactic is performed by an amateur. My posture relaxes. I can’t believe I felt threatened by her for even a moment.
“I could help you,” she continues, sliding closer. She’s a full head shorter than I am and she peers up at me through her long eyelashes. “I pretty much know everything there is to know—and what I’m not sure of, I can find faster than you can blink. I’d be an asset in Clearwater, don’t you think?”
The laugh I couldn’t muster before bubbles up my throat and over my lips. Lena takes a hasty step back, her green eyes flashing. “No, Lena,” I say through my chuckles. “I neither want nor need your help.”
The lines of her face harden. The transformation is so quick it’s almost amazing. In less than a second, she switches from an innocent girl to an angry woman. “You don’t want to make me your enemy, Brody.”
I tilt my head and study her. “That sounds like a threat.”
“Take it however you want,” she says, her voice low. “But remember that you’re about to leave Jade’s side for who knows how long. And I’m going to be right here. Be sure you don’t screw up in Clearwater. Again.” Her smile returns. “On second thought—go ahead.”
She blows a kiss and pivots before I can respond. I have half a mind to follow her, but what would I say? What can I say? If I threaten her back, it’s because I see her as an equal, and I don’t want her to think that for a second.
My superior feelings from moments ago have evaporated. What she’s saying is true. When I’m not here, she’ll be the voice in Jade’s ear. How long before Jade starts looking at her in that special way again? How long before I slip from the favored spot I hold? Jade already thinks I’ve failed. I’ve got no room for error on this mission. I have to convince Krissa to become our assassin, and the sooner the better. It’s barely a month before Jade’s twenty-five-year term comes to an end. So little time, but also so much. What kind of damage could someone like Lena do in that amount of time?
Chapter Six
Krissa
The house is quiet—or as quiet as the three-story Victorian place ever is. There are the usual groans and sighs to be expected from a house this old, but for the moment, there are no voices.
I wish I could luxuriate in a quiet Saturday all to myself, but I have work to do. After pouring myself a mug of tea, I make my way into the living room and collapse onto the couch. The coffee table is littered with mailings from every college under the sun. I’ll be a senior next year, which apparently means universities all over the country suddenly find me very interesting.
If they only knew.
No matter how many hints I sneak into conversations with my parents, I can’t convince them that maybe college isn’t the path for me. They think the Influence is in check—and I want them to believe that. I want them to believe I’m wholly their daughter, unhindered by any crazy, magic-related fate.
Even Owen’s been talking about applications. When he starts going on and on a
bout essays and transcripts, I can almost pretend life really is that simple.
For him, I suppose it is.
I scan the names on the envelopes as I sip my tea, trying to remember which schools Owen said he’s applying to. Maybe I’ll apply to the same places and follow him to whichever school he chooses. If someone else were to tell me that was her plan for selecting a school, I’d probably throw up a little. But I’m not in the same situation as most people. I can’t imagine not being able to see Owen every day. I wasn’t lying when I told Sasha he’s the only thing that keeps me centered. If we’re not able to get the Influence out of me, I’m afraid to think what might happen if we’re separated by more than a couple of miles.
I shake my head. College is still more than a year away. There’s no reason to think we won’t be able to come up with a permanent solution by then.
I’ll keep telling myself that, anyway.
I select a few envelopes based solely on their logos and fonts. After tearing open a few and scanning the contents, I’m no closer to narrowing down the pile than I was before. Everything sounds so generic: beautiful campus, accredited programs, close-knit community.
Felix and Lexie are also going through this process. They talked about it a little at the movie last night. From what I overheard, it doesn’t sound like either of them will be making their ultimate decision based on the other. I wonder how Fox and Dana are going to handle the college thing. Are they even planning on going? Fox is smart enough—or at least he puts in enough effort to do the spells to get good grades. But Griffin didn’t go, so maybe he’ll follow in his brother’s footsteps. And Dana barely makes enough effort to get to school on time on a regular basis. I can’t see higher education as a top priority for her.
A knock sounds on the front door, pulling me from my thoughts. I stiffen, listening for clues as to who might be on the porch. A couple weeks ago, a pair of people carrying religious tracts showed up. They talked with Jodi for nearly half an hour before Dad got home and convinced them to move on. But there’s no sound now, not like there would be if two people were chatting while waiting for the door to open.
Another knock. I breathe out a curse as I stand. A lot of the time, not being a psychic anymore doesn’t faze me: After all, I spent months blocking off the part of my abilities that would enable me to figure out who was nearby. But then there are other times, like now, when the absence is so sharp it sends a pang through my chest.
I steel myself and open the door, prepared to tell the visitor I’m underage and therefore can’t buy whatever he might be selling, but I stop short when I look through the screen door. It’s Crystal.
“Hey,” she says, offering a smile that dissipates too quickly. “Can I come in?”
It takes me a moment to find my voice. It’s not like this is the first time Crystal’s been to my house. It’s just she never comes unannounced or without a reason, so I’m automatically on alert. “Sure.”
She pulls open the screen door, but I don’t wait until she enters before retracing my steps to the living room. I don’t know that we’ve been alone together since the night of the Influence spell. We’ve talked, of course. We still sit together at school; our interactions are pleasant. I’ve done my best to make my peace with what happened that night. It was my choice to sacrifice my abilities so the Influence would fill me, and not her and Dana. Still, a pulse of energy crackles just beneath my skin when I think about how she’s only a witch again because she’s using my magic.
Crystal joins me on the couch, and before I can ask why she’s here, she’s talking. “Are you okay?”
I search her face. Where is this coming from? In the days immediately following the spell, I heard that question about a billion times from all my well-meaning friends, but since then, everyone seems to have assumed I’m adjusting, that the ring spell is holding. Has she been talking to Sasha? The crackle in my veins builds and I take a breath to bring it back down to a simmer. Of course that’s not the case. In addition to the fact that I can’t imagine Crystal talking to Sasha under any circumstances, I also trust that Sasha wouldn’t share what I’ve told her in confidence. “I’m fine.”
She shakes her head like she was expecting that answer. “I don’t think you are. I’m worried about you.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Please. I don’t need anyone else worrying about me. You should see Jodi and Anya.” The two have spent every bit of their free time in the last two months trying to figure out how to undo the Influence spell. When they’re around me, they’re always poking and prodding, asking me questions and trying to force teas and tinctures down my throat. If there’s such a thing as being cared-for to death, I’m in danger of it. Jodi’s even stepped down as manager of her homeopathic shop in town to devote more time to research. “I’m not sure why you care so much, anyway.”
Hurt flashes in Crystal’s eyes. “Of course I care—you’re my friend. I know we don’t talk about it, but don’t think a day goes by that I’m not thankful for what you did for me. I just want to make sure—”
“What? That I don’t go Dark Side?” I know she’s trying to be helpful, but I can’t help the flare of irritation—of anger—that surges inside me. “You have no idea what I’m going through.”
“I know.” There’s a beat before she continues, and when she does, her voice is quiet. “You pulled away after what happened with Seth, and I don’t want you to go down that road again. You can tell me anything. I’ll understand.”
“Really? Anything?” I stand, the sizzling in my veins making it impossible to sit still. “Can I tell you about how I keep fantasizing about ripping people’s heads off? About making them explode the way Kai did? How part of me isn’t horrified by those ideas?” I shouldn’t be telling her any of this. I’ve worked hard to keep these things inside. But the look of horror spreading across her face gives me a sick sense of satisfaction. “Don’t pretend like you want to know what’s going on in my head. It’s your fault I’m like this—if you would’ve listened to me in the first place about Influence, this never would’ve happened.”
Crystal is on her feet now, too. The terror of a moment ago has evaporated, replaced by a kind of indignation that suits her much better. “What do you want me to say? I’m sorry—is that it? I’ve said it I don’t know how many times.”
“Oh, yes,” I growl sarcastically. “That makes it all better.” Why is she even here? She says she’s worried about me. Well, she should be, but there’s nothing she can do to help. “Let’s be honest: you don’t really care about me, you’re just here because you feel guilty.”
She shakes her head. “You know me better than that. I saw something in your eyes in history yesterday. Now I guess I know what.” Her stone-blue eyes study my face. “Does Jodi know about these fantasies you’re having? Or are you still keeping secrets from everyone?”
I don’t like the way she’s talking, the way she’s looking at me. “You can’t tell her.”
She throws her hands up. “I can’t believe you’re keeping this from her. She thinks everything’s okay—we all do. You can’t lie to us, not about this.”
“Why? Why should I tell everyone the truth? So they can all look at me the way you are right now?”
“No, so we can help you.” In a flash, her cell phone is in her hand.
My fingers itch with the desire to rip it away. My tingling skin reminds me I could use the Influence to take it from her. “What are you doing?” I ask, trying my best to keep my voice even.
“I’m calling Jodi,” she says. “She needs to know.”
“You can’t do that.” I lunge for her phone, but she twists her body and holds her hand out so I can’t reach it. The screen display indicates she’s already opened her contact list, and her thumb scrolls through the alphabet toward the J’s. “Crystal, I’m begging you. Don’t call her.”
She glances at me over her shoulder. “The fact that you don’t want me to makes me think this is the right thing to do.”
She’s using magic on me. She’s using my magic against me.
When the red creeps into my periphery, it’s not in the slow, subtle way it usually comes. It unfurls and clouds my vision until all I can see is Crystal’s face. She has to stop. I have to make her stop.
My skin is burning. I lift my hand and hold it out toward Crystal. When I curl my fingers, she reaches for her neck. Her phone slips from her hand and she sputters, trying to draw in a breath.
Why wouldn’t she just listen to me? Why wouldn’t she just do what I asked? This is her fault. She asked for this.
I raise my arm and Crystal’s feet leave the floor. She kicks them as if doing so will help her in some way. Her hands continue to claw at her throat, but there’s nothing to pull away. As her eyes bulge, the heat in my body begins to crescendo. The world is burning—it must be, because I’m on fire. If I release Crystal, if I stop drawing on the Influence, the pain will end.
But I don’t stop.
Crystal’s feet jerk rather than kick, and her head lolls to the side. It’s almost over now.
The solid thunk of car doors slamming reaches me. A quick glance out the window reveals my parents. They’re on their way in.
I blink.
The full weight of the situation crashes down on me as the red drains from my vision. I drop my arm and Crystal crumples to the floor. My parents can’t find her like this. I need more time.