Cursed Magic

by Madeline Freeman

  She shakes her head. “I’ll just be happy when this spell is over—when we’ve got you back.”

  I want to say more, to make her accept my apology, but before I can, she’s crossed the hall into the living room and is calling for people’s attention.

  Owen brushes his fingertips along my jaw. “You ready?”

  “Almost.” I grab the front of his shirt in my fist and pull him down to meet my lips.

  Owen accepts the kiss and returns it eagerly. I know Jodi is waiting for us to join her, but I don’t care. I need this. Owen keeps me centered, keeps me sane. I need to feel like myself if I’m going to stand any chance of staying calm going into the spell.

  It’s only when Jodi clears her throat that the two of us break apart. I’m aware of everyone’s eyes on us, but while Owen’s cheeks tinge pink, mine stay cool. I’m not embarrassed. I don’t care. I want the Influence pushed as far from my consciousness as possible before submitting myself to be exorcised, and if I need to be close to Owen to accomplish that, I’m not going to let anyone make me feel bad about it.

  We cross the hall, hands linked, and find a spot beside Anya. Jodi is explaining to everyone what we hope to accomplish, and I’m grateful she skirts around the exact reason the spell is necessary. Maybe she didn’t tell Shelly and David after all.

  Owen bends down, placing his lips close to my ear. “Do you think he’ll ever stop looking at me like that?”

  I’m about to ask what he’s talking about, but then I glance up and catch a glimpse of Fox. Fox’s stormy eyes flick to Jodi, but not fast enough to keep me from knowing who he was looking at seconds before. He was watching me and Owen, and there are still traces of jealousy etched on his face.

  “I get that things are complicated, but I don’t see how he’s having such a hard time with you moving on when he already has.” Owen releases my hand and slides his arm around my waist.

  “I could talk to him if you think it would help,” I offer, even though the thought of broaching such a topic is about as unappealing as one-on-one study sessions with Mr. Martin. I have no idea how I’d start that particular conversation. Fox knows I’m not the same girl he dated for three years, but it has to be hard to see me with someone else. My alternate self was so closely linked with Fox for so long, I can’t exactly blame him for having mixed feelings about me and Owen.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Owen murmurs.

  I probably should be paying attention to Jodi, but now that Fox is on my radar, I can’t keep myself from glancing in his direction every so often. Dana stands beside him, her body turned toward his and pressing every available inch of her skin toward him. I wonder if she’s sensed his jealousy. Even if I don’t talk with him, maybe I should chat with her. The whole time I was trying to help her and Crystal get their abilities back, Dana was uneasy around me. I didn’t really pick up on it at the time because I was so distracted, but now, when I think back, I remember how she tensed up any time Fox’s name came up. She’s pleasant when we cross paths now, but I’m not sure if she thinks I’m mad at her for telling him my secret, or if she still sees me as some kind of rival for his affection. Either way, it might do her some good to hear from me that neither is true.

  Dana glances in my direction and catches me watching them. Her face tenses and she immediately looks away, but she also grabs Fox’s arm and attempts to put it around her waist. Is she trying to mirror Owen and me? Fox tugs his arm from her grasp and the arm of his long-sleeve T-shirt pulls up for an instant. For a moment, a bracelet is visible on his wrist.

  “How long has he been wearing that?” Owen asks quietly. “It looks a lot like the one you wear.”

  I noticed it, too. Although I barely caught a glimpse of it, it appeared almost identical. The hemp fibers seemed to be woven with Apache tears and snowflake obsidian—the same stones in my bracelet. I wear it now as an extra safeguard to keep other people from having to experience the Influence, but why would Fox wear a similar one? “Maybe he doesn’t like the idea of Dana being able to read his thoughts,” I suggest. “When he was with the other me, I don’t think he knew about her psychic side. I’m not even sure she knew about it—she may have just thought everything she could do came from her magic.”

  Before Owen can respond, there’s movement in the room. Jodi must have given some direction I didn’t hear.

  Anya places her hand on the small of my back and leads me toward the center of the room. Griffin and West stand on either end of the coffee table and lift it before carrying it out of the room. Bridget, Lexie, Bria, and Tucker collect small paper bags from the ledge of the fireplace. Other people shift around, clearly unsure where they should be standing for the moment. I take one last look around. Dana and Fox move toward Crystal. Felix stands close to the couch, rubbing the back of his neck uneasily. Shelly and David stand off to the side, chatting in low voices. Elliot lurks near Jodi, seeming not to want to get too close to anyone else. Almost everyone in Clearwater with any kind of ability is here in my living room, with one notable exception.

  I glance at Anya. “Where’s Sasha? Did she have something going on today?” I can’t imagine that’s the case. With all the time she’s been putting into figuring out a way to help, it’s hard to believe she wouldn’t assist during an actual spell.

  Anya tenses. “It’s her fault we’re here in the first place. It’s her fault the Influence is inside you. Why on earth would you want her here now?”

  I chew on my lower lip. Sasha has told me time and again she doesn’t want Anya knowing she’s helping me, but I still don’t fully understand why. It’s especially hard to keep the secret now with the heavy disappointment in Anya’s voice. I don’t know why it matters so much to me, but I want her to know her sister is trying to make things right. Obviously, it doesn’t excuse what she’s done, but none of us is perfect. What should count most is what we do moving forward.

  Anya doesn’t seem to expect a response. She points to the floor and helps me get into position. It’s an odd sensation, lying down while everyone around me stands. I feel small and vulnerable. Energy thrums in my veins and I take a deep breath, hoping I can control it. I don’t need the Influence rearing its head right now. Without sitting up, I scan the faces surrounding me until my eyes land on Owen. He stands at my head, but even upside down, the sight of him is calming.

  Jodi, standing at my feet, begins murmuring a familiar incantation. I recognize it from when we performed this same spell on Crystal months ago. I close my eyes, willing myself to relax and believe that when this is over, everything will be back to normal.

  A rueful smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. I’m not even sure what normal will look like for me after this. Preparing for senior year and applying to colleges? Making long-term plans with Owen?

  As much as I hate to admit it, Brody was spot on with what he said. I have no idea what I want to do with my life. If I do go to college, what will my major be? If I go, will I come back to Clearwater and take over the shop when Jodi is ready to retire? She mentioned to me once that the store would pass to me one day if I wanted it. But is that what I want for my life? Will I settle in this town, come back to this house, live out my days here in the place where everyone knows everyone else’s business? Will I make teas and tinctures for the citizens of Clearwater, raise my own family, and teach my children to do the same? Will my life ever be anything more than it is now?

  What if I want something bigger? Something greater? Can Owen give that to me? Can I even achieve it myself?

  And what would that look like? I could travel the world, I suppose. But will that make me happy? I’m not sure. I don’t know what I want out of my life, and suddenly it seems very important to know.

  Images flash through my mind from the night of the Influence spell. After its power filled me, the Amaranthine assassin threatened the lives of my friends. Kai shot off spell after spell, but I deflected them easily. I met each of his blasts with one of my own, and when it came down to it,
I was victorious. The energy that surged through me was exhilarating, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I felt entirely limitless, unbound by anything—including the restrictions of society.

  I never felt guilty for killing Seth, but I was ashamed that I couldn’t dredge up the emotion. It never even occurred to me to feel bad about incinerating Kai. On the contrary, I haven’t spent a single moment lamenting what I did to him. He thought he was so strong, but I proved he wasn’t. He was no match for me, for what resides inside me.

  I was stronger. I am stronger. Stronger than anyone—or I could be. My power’s locked away. The enchantment on my ring limits the Influence. But if I could access it fully, no one would stand in my way. If I joined the Amaranthine, no one would stand in their way. I would see to that. If people tried to stand against them, I could stop them. I could stop anyone.

  I’m partially aware of the changing voices surrounding me, but their words have no meaning. It’s just meaningless sound, white noise, like waves lapping on a beach. I’m floating, drifting. The thrum of the Influence that has been constantly buzzing below the surface is gone. There’s nothing now—no feeling, just soft oblivion. I’m weightless. I’m nothing. I’m a soul untethered.

  I’m free.

  A weight settles in my stomach, shocking my system. The floating sensation from moments ago evaporates and it’s as if I’m being pulled backwards, yanked down. Gravity seems to have more force than usual. I’m a magnet being drawn to another, stronger magnet. And when I crash back to reality, I long for my brief reprieve. The crackling in my veins is stronger than usual. The Influence singes and burns the inside of my body. Then the voices return, but they are no longer murmuring an incantation. These sounds are loud, sharp, and angry.

  I blink my heavy eyelids several times before the room comes into focus. Everything is in motion. I try to focus on the voices, but it takes several seconds before language begins to make sense again.

  “You said this would work! You said the worst that would happen was it would fight and we could try again.” Jodi stands dangerously close to Anya, her face inches from the shorter woman’s. “How do you explain what just happened?”

  “First of all, I never guaranteed this was a sure thing,” Anya snaps. “You had all the same information I did, and you chose to go through with this. Don’t try to put the blame on me. You know I’m trying just as hard as you are to help her.”

  Owen places a hand on each woman’s shoulder and turns them to face him. “You said you took every precaution. That’s why we waited until the full moon. That’s why we invited everyone we knew to help. How could you let this happen?” His voice is low and dangerous.

  “It would’ve worked if everyone was pulling their weight,” Griffin snarls argumentatively.

  Felix rankles. “What are you trying to say?” In two steps, he’s crossed to where Griffin stands.

  If Griffin is uncomfortable with Felix’s proximity, his posture belies it. “What I’m saying, psychic, is maybe if some people weren’t too distracted standing next to their girlfriends to put in the energy required—”

  “Now I know you’re talking about your brother and not me, because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make Krissa right again,” Felix growls.

  Dana and Lexie throw themselves into the fray, but I don’t register what they’re saying. The angry sounds reach my ears, and the oppressive rage that pushes on me is so strong I don’t need psychic abilities to sense it.

  The snap and sizzle of the Influence within me is sharper and stronger than before. Their unsuccessful attempt at exorcising it from me only seems to have given it power, more energy to fight for dominance of my body.

  I need to get away. I can’t be in this room with all this fighting for much longer, or I’ll lose control completely. I’m not sure if it’s due to whatever just happened to me or not, but my body refuses to obey what my brain commands. I need to get up, to walk out to the porch, but I can’t. An even stronger pull keeps me rooted to my spot, and every second I sit here, the pressure in my veins builds. My hands begin to itch with the barely suppressed urge to use the Influence. If the people in this room want mayhem, I’ll be more than happy to oblige.

  Tendrils of red smoke curl in my periphery. Images flicker in my mind’s eye of all the spells I could do to silence everyone in this room. I could sever vocal cords with a snap of my fingers, break necks with a flick of my wrist. I could conjure fire to make its way up the legs of the ones who have betrayed me.

  More red smoke rolls in, completely blocking out my vision, but as it does, one voice rises above the cacophony. There’s something different about it. It’s not angry like the rest. There’s a note of pleading in it that cuts through the dark visions forming in my mind.

  “Krissa? Can you hear me? Come back.” The voice is close, but I’m having a hard time discerning what direction it’s coming from. Hands cup my shoulders and twist me around to face the speaker.

  It’s Owen. It has to be. I still can’t see through the red haze, but who else can calm me like this? I blink, hoping with each blink of my eyelids that my vision will clear and I’ll see the face of the person I need more than anyone else.

  “Are you okay?” the voice continues. The cadence is familiar, of course, but there’s something off about it. It doesn’t sound like Owen.

  I press the heels of my hands against my eyelids, drawing in and releasing a deep breath before removing them. When I open my eyes, a jolt of surprise courses through me. It’s not Owen standing in front of me, it’s Fox.

  I take a step backward, not because he’s touching me or because he’s so close, but because I’m trying to make sense of what’s going on. When did I stand up? I was still lying on the floor when I came to. How much time has passed? Fear twists my stomach as I hastily survey the room. Did I do one of those things I imagined? But there’s no damage, no carnage, only somewhat bewildered looks on the faces of those surrounding me. I turn back to Fox. “What happened?”

  “It didn’t work,” he murmurs, stepping into the void between us. “The psychics realized it wasn’t the Influence that was being cast out, and we stopped the spell before things went too far. Then people started arguing, and you got up. You had this look in your eye…” He shakes his head.

  Shame settles like a stone in the pit of my stomach. “Thank you for getting through to me.”

  He reaches for me and takes my hand. When he squeezes my fingers, he provides me with the strength I need to say what I have to say next.

  “It didn’t just not work. The spell… Things are worse. It’s stronger now. The Influence. It’s fighting harder for control.”

  Jodi rounds on Anya again. She opens her mouth and points a finger, but before she can start yelling, she seems to think better of it. With obvious effort, she drops her hand and releases the tension in her shoulders before continuing. “It seems this spell had more dangers than you anticipated,” she says through gritted teeth.

  Before Anya can defend herself, I break in. I can’t have them blaming each other when I know the truth. It’s my fault for not telling them. “I think it was just a matter of time. I haven’t wanted to admit it to anyone—even to myself, really—but it’s been getting stronger every day for a while now.” I drop my eyes as I say it, unwilling to witness the fear and horror that are undoubtedly brimming in the eyes of everyone present.

  A hand brushes beneath my chin, inviting me to look up. Fox’s stormy eyes meet my gaze. “We’ll figure this out.”

  I want to believe him. I want to think there’s some spell out there, waiting to be discovered, that will rid me of this darkness. Looking at Fox now, I can almost trust it’s true.

  Jodi sighs, and it takes everything in me to ignore the fact that it sounds like defeat. “I guess we’re going back to the drawing board.”

  She says it as if it’s so simple. Maybe for her it is. She doesn’t know what’s going on inside me, the constant battle between me and the Influence. I
hope they find a solution soon, before she’s forced to learn just how real my struggle is.

  Chapter Eleven

  Brody

  Though lacking in ambiance, the diner on the edge of town has surprisingly decent food. I ate at more than my share of dives last time I was in Clearwater. It’s rarely the big chain restaurants with the best selections; usually, I find the most delicious dishes at hole-in-the-wall establishments that are kept alive not by the loyalty of regular patrons, but by that special spark of genius possessed by a chef.

  This is not one of those places, but the food is good enough that I’m back. I’ve even carved out a regular spot, although it’s unlikely anyone in the restaurant has noticed: I find it’s easier to cast glamors and pose as a different person each time I visit. Doing so keeps the waitresses from trying too hard at small talk.

  But I’m using no magic to conceal myself tonight. My mind is far too busy to bother with such tricks.

  Jade is already asking for a progress report.

  I received the text message an hour ago and I still haven’t responded. What am I supposed to say? I figured I’d have more time before she demanded an update. I’ve only been here just over a day.

  Typically, reports are nothing to agonize over. When I dealt with the Crystal Jamison situation, Jade wasn’t nearly so interested in my daily progress—and that was related to information the Amaranthine had been seeking for generations.

  This is because of Lena. I can feel it. She’s there, whispering in Jade’s ear, prompting her to doubt me.

  That’s why my response has to be perfect.

  A turkey club sits, untouched, on its plate as I pick up my phone from its spot by the water glass. After a few swipes on the screen, I begin typing a message detailing how I’m tracking Krissa’s movements and gathering intel. Should I mention I’ve already spoken with her? On the one hand, revealing that information will show I’m not wasting time. On the other, it could be used against me, since I wasn’t immediately able to persuade her to join us.