Cursed Magic

by Madeline Freeman

  Heart thudding in my chest, I move through the rooms as quickly and quietly as possible. As I suspected, no one is home. But if Owen’s not here, where could he be? Never before have I wished so fervently I could cast a locater spell. Of course, there’s no way for me to do that. Even if I were desperate enough to tap into the Influence, I can’t do that anymore. The Influence is locked away in a deep recess of my mind now. Since the dissevering spell, the constant simmering just beneath the surface of my skin has disappeared entirely. I’ve felt more like myself than I have in months—since before the night Seth died.

  Since magic is out, I’ll have to find him the old-fashioned way.

  I peek out the front window before exiting the house. The street is just as still as it was when I entered. I jog to my car and head for downtown. Owen spends a lot of time at the coffee shop. Maybe he’s there now. For the moment, it’s the best guess I have.

  I park on Main across from the cafe and climb out of the car, but before I can cross the street, I catch sight of Dana. It’s not too unusual to see her around here, so that’s not what surprises me—it’s the hurt in her eyes that roots me to my spot. When she sees me, she stalks straight for me.

  I open my mouth to ask her what’s wrong, but before I can get a word out, she winds up and slaps me across the face. I’m too shocked to move. My mind spins, landing on the fact that Dana is damn lucky the dissevering spell worked, because if she’d hit me before it was locked away, I doubt I could have kept the Influence from incinerating her on the spot. Even now, despite the spell’s effects, it rustles gently in the back of my consciousness, reminding me of its presence. It’s barely strong enough to register—the first time I’ve sensed it since the spell.

  Before I recover enough to ask what’s happening, Dana starts yelling. “I had my suspicions when Fox broke up with me, but I figured I’d give you the benefit of the doubt. After all, I thought this version of you wasn’t a backstabbing whore. Guess I was wrong.”

  I try to swallow, but my throat is dry. Even after I realized what was going on with Fox and me—after I told him not to break up with her—I never really considered the fallout if she found out what was happening. “What did Fox tell you?”

  Does she have the whole story? Does she think I was actively attempting to steal him from her? Either way, I suppose her anger is valid, but I need her to understand I never went out of my way to hurt her. If she can understand, maybe Owen can, too.

  Her lip curls at the sound of his name on my lips. “Him? Nothing. I haven’t seen him. But Owen caught up with me between finals to inform me I should dump Fox since he’s been cheating with you. I guess he didn’t get the memo Fox already dumped me.”

  The stinging on my cheek dissipates and a bubble of hope rises in my chest. “You saw Owen today? He wasn’t in second hour.”

  She glares at me. “Maybe he didn’t want to see your cheating bitch-face.”

  “Or maybe he was detained.”

  Dana and I both jump at the male voice, but I know who it belongs to before I turn.

  Brody.

  Dana shrinks back, taking a half step behind me. She’s using me as a human shield, and I can’t blame her. “Why are you here? Crystal gave you the information you wanted—you were supposed to leave town.”

  Brody doesn’t look the slightest bit uneasy. He could simply be out for a walk, taking in the sunshine on this warm spring day—except he’s not. That’s not the kind of person he is. If he’s here, it can only mean trouble. “I did leave,” he says, his voice casual. “Now I’m back.”

  I don’t have the time or patience to wait for Dana to adjust to Brody’s presence in town. “What do you mean, detained? What did you do with Owen?”

  He shrugs and leans back against the hood of my car, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s safe—for now. And so is Fox.”

  Dana lunges forward, but not far enough to actually strike out at Brody. Despite her anger, she seems to sense she wouldn’t come off the better in a fight against him. “Don’t hurt him.” Her tone is more command than request.

  Brody holds up his hands, but the curl of his lips belies his feigned innocence. “I think the two of them have been sufficiently hurt by Krissa, wouldn’t you agree? Despite what she claims—even to herself—it seems her heart is torn between the two of them. I’ve simply devised a way to encourage her to be honest with herself. Owen and Fox are hidden away somewhere in Clearwater, and both will die in exactly”—he checks his watch—“one hour and twenty-eight minutes, unless she chooses the one she loves the most.”

  My decision is automatic. I don’t even have to think about it. It’s Owen, of course. I care about Fox—there’s no denying that—but Owen is the one my heart longs for. I belong with him.

  I open my mouth to tell Brody who I’ve chosen, but Dana cuts me off. “What happens to the other one?”

  Brody grins, flashing teeth. “He gets taken out of the equation. Whoever Krissa picks won’t have to worry about her affections straying to the other when that other is dead.”

  Dana lets out a little yelp, and a wave of nausea swells in my stomach. I can’t choose Owen if it means Fox will die. I may not want to be with him in the way he hopes, but I can’t be the reason he’s murdered by this psychopath.

  “How do I save them both? There has to be a way.” I have a feeling I already know the answer. Brody hasn’t orchestrated this whole thing in some twisted attempt at helping me be true to myself. He’s here for a reason, and there’s no way he’s giving up on it.

  Brody’s dark eyes fix on me. “If you agree to join me, both boys will live.”

  It’s the answer I expected. He can’t make me go willingly, so he’s come up with this elaborate plan to force me into it. But I can’t do it—even if it means saving Owen and Fox. There has to be another way. “Never. I won’t be your assassin.”

  “Have it your way,” Brody says, shrugging as if my answer is of no consequence to him. “Try to find them. But I warn you, my magic is strong and the enchantments concealing them are hard to break. Be my guest, though; I’ll be waiting at our usual meeting place when you realize my way is the only way to save them.”

  I stare at him for a beat longer. There’s no doubt in my mind he’ll make good on his threats. Although last time he was in town, Kai was the one who did all the dirty work, I know it was all on Brody’s orders. He was willing to kill Crystal’s parents to get information from her. He’s heartless, and pleading or reasoning with him will have no effect.

  I turn to my car and pull open the driver’s side door. My fingers tremble, and I drop the key twice before managing to slide it into the ignition. I feel Brody’s eyes on me until I start the car; only then does he walk away.

  Before I can put the car in gear, the passenger door swings open and Dana slides into the seat. “You have a plan, right? You have to do something. You have to find Fox. Don’t forget it’s your fault he’s in this mess anyway.”

  Does she think I don’t know that? I’m fully aware that two people I care about are in danger simply because of their proximity to me. There’s a prickle in the deep recesses of my mind, but I ignore it. I won’t let the Influence rise up and take over, no matter how much it may want to.

  “I know it’s my fault,” I say, my voice low as I pull onto the street. “I’ll save them both, but we’re going to need magic to find them. I can’t use the Influence. We’ll need help.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Fox

  My skin is warm and slick with sweat. I try to open my eyes, but my eyelids are heavy. Have I overslept? Did I miss my finals? My heartbeat picks up as panic sets in. But no—I woke up and went to school. I remember going to my first exam. It was easier than I thought it would be.

  I try to bring my hand up to rub the sleep from my eyes, but my arm won’t move. For a split second, I assume it’s asleep, but then I feel the bite and scratch of rope against my wrists.

  I finally manage to open my eyes, but w
hen I do, I’m even more confused. I’m standing, and my arms are tied behind my back. Another rope encircles my chest—probably the only thing that kept me upright while I was unconscious. I’m outside and the sun is beating down from almost directly overhead. On the ground all around me are thick, green shoots.

  Corn. I’m in a cornfield.

  Who the hell would tie me up in a cornfield? The first idea that comes to mind is completely insane—that Dana did it to get back at me for breaking up with her. But of course, that’s crazy.

  There’s movement about a hundred yards in front of me. Someone is walking through the field. She probably owns this place and is wondering what I’m doing out here. I open my mouth to call out, but my throat is dry. I wonder how long I was unconscious. I struggle to swallow before trying again. “Help! Help me!”

  She sees me—it’s impossible that she doesn’t, because her eyes are fixed directly on me—yet my calls don’t hasten her pace. She continues to move slowly, methodically, her eyes never wavering from my face.

  As she nears, I start wondering if my initial assessment was incorrect. She doesn’t look like a farmer. Her clothes are too sleek. While she wears jeans, they’re clearly expensive, and her low-cut red tank top isn’t the kind a person would wear while tending fields. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, not pulled back like it would be if she planned to work in the hot sun for any length of time.

  But if she’s not a farmer, what is she doing here? Why is she in this field with me? Maybe she noticed me as she was passing by—but her movements don’t indicate any concern for my well-being.

  It’s not until she’s about two yards away that I realize she’s definitely not here to help me. Her green eyes are cold and calculating. She continues walking until she is less than an arm’s length from me, her gaze fixed on me the whole way.

  She reaches out and I flinch, but all she does is gently stroke my cheek. The gesture is in such contrast to the coldness in her eyes that I’m not sure how to react. “I hear you’re the one she won’t choose,” she murmurs. “It must be a hard decision. You’re both so… tempting.” Her finger trails along my jaw before dropping to my chest and tracing a line down toward my stomach. “To be honest, I find you more attractive than the other boy, but I can’t fault her for her choice. There’s something about him—something special. Have you sensed it?”

  All I can do is stare at her. I’m not sure whether she expects a response or not, but either way, I have none to give. My mind is spinning, trying to figure out what she’s talking about and what’s going on.

  Her lips curve in a secretive smile. “Of course you haven’t sensed it. You’re not a psychic.”

  “But you are?” The question tumbles out of my mouth before I make the conscious decision to ask it. My voice is rough both from the yelling and the lack of moisture in my throat. Her finger is still tracing lines up and down my chest. I don’t really want to engage her in conversation, but I do want to know exactly what the hell’s happening to me. I’m positive now this has something to do with Krissa, but I have no idea what.

  “Not exactly. I’m more sensitive than your average person, but I wouldn’t call myself a full-blown psychic. And I’ve picked up some very interesting vibrations off that other boy. It’s really too bad he won’t be around long enough for me to figure out what makes him so unique.”

  More pieces snap together in my mind and my heart starts hammering again. If whatever is going on does have to do with Krissa, there’s no doubt the other guy is Owen. What does she mean, he won’t be around long? What about me? Whatever the reason I’m tied up, it can’t be good. “What are you going to do to him?”

  She taps her pointer finger on the tip of my nose. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

  It’s not exactly an answer. “Why? Because you don’t have the same thing in store for me?”

  The smile drops from her face and she tilts her head to the side. “Because it’ll be over before you have a chance to feel it.”

  Bile rises in my throat as the implication of her words sinks in. She spins on her heel and starts off the way she came before I can ask for clarification. By the time I find my voice, she’s at least three yards away. “Why are you doing this? What’s going to happen? Just let me go! Why can’t you let me go?”

  I yell the words until my throat burns, but she doesn’t acknowledge me in any way. I watch as she walks to the road bordering the field and climbs into her car. I don’t stop yelling until her car is out of sight.

  My heart is thundering in my chest, and I can feel the blood surging through my veins. As much as I don’t want to dwell on what her words meant, my mind can’t help spinning through different scenarios, all of which end with me dead.

  Another car drives down the road and I scream at the top of my lungs, hoping to call attention to myself. The road isn’t too far off, probably less than a quarter mile—definitely close enough that the person driving with their window down should hear and see me. But the car continues as if there’s nothing strange occurring in the field.

  Magic. It’s the only explanation. Of course this crazy lady wouldn’t leave me in the middle of a field where anyone could find me. She probably cast cloaking charms to keep me from sight and incantations to keep my voice from carrying. Unless someone is specifically looking for me, I won’t be found.

  Owen is tied up like this somewhere, too. Although the woman didn’t say his name, I have no doubt he’s the other one. Does Krissa already know we’ve been taken? If so, which one of us is she looking for?

  A heavy weight settles in the pit of my stomach when I realize it’s not me. The thing I’ve been trying to ignore for weeks now, the real reason Krissa never wanted to come clean about the two of us being together, breaks into my consciousness, unwilling to be ignored any longer: Krissa doesn’t want me.

  These last few weeks, I’ve ignored any doubts or suspicions that have surfaced since she first came to me. I haven’t been entertaining the idea that Krissa sincerely didn’t want to be with me. But now I have no doubt that whatever brought her to me these last few weeks wasn’t love. It was an anomaly. Krissa wants to be with Owen. Even that crazy woman knows it.

  So why am I tied up in a field?

  The answer comes to me in pieces. Even if it’s true that Krissa will choose Owen, I know she cares for me. She’s told me as much before—it’s part of the reason I was able to believe she wanted to be with me. For some reason, she’s being forced to choose between us in the most extreme way I can imagine. But when she chooses Owen, where will that leave me?

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Krissa

  “Dammit, dammit, dammit!” Griffin shouts, pounding his fist on the coffee table before standing and aiming a kick at the corner of his couch.

  West lifts his head from the grimoire he’s been studying. “Let me guess: the locater spell didn’t work?”

  Griffin points at him. “If you know what’s good for you, psychic, you’ll shut the hell up right now. I’ve been looking for an excuse to punch you since the binding spell.”

  Lexie stands from the dining room chair she’s been perched on and positions herself between the two of them. “We don’t really have time for this, do we?”

  She’s right, but I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. Dana and I were both on the phone as soon as I started driving, contacting all the witches and psychics and asking them to meet at Griffin’s place. Everyone got here as quickly as they could. Sasha brought a handful of grimoires, as did Crystal, who went an extra step and picked up the Barnette grimoire from my house on her way. The witches set to finding Owen and Fox with magic, while the psychics began scouring the books of spells.

  But I’m not doing either. I’m standing here, in the corner of the room, in the same spot I got here. Guilt and fear keep me rooted. Guilt because everything that’s happening is my fault and there’s nothing I can do to help, and fear that my friends’ efforts won’t be enough. Fear that I’
ll lose two people I love because I’m unable to access magic to find them.

  I’m useless.

  I wish I had my magic back, even a small measure of it. A little bit of power right now would put me at ease.

  Perhaps that’s not entirely true. If I’m honest, I wish we hadn’t done the dissevering spell. I wish I still had access to the Influence. Brody wants me to use it for him, but how would he react if I turned it against him? Unfortunately, no matter how much fear or anger I summon, I can’t call forth the wisps of red smoke. The Influence is nothing more than a shadowy presence in the deepest recesses of my mind. It’s not part of me anymore—it’s a separate entity within me. If I let it take over, there’s no promise I’ll ever be able to come back.

  “Obviously whoever took Fox put enchantments around him so a locater spell wouldn’t work,” Griffin says. Sasha already pointed out that would probably be the case, but it seems Griffin is finally coming to terms with the information. “We still need to find where Fox is being hidden.”

  “And Owen,” Felix adds.

  Griffin clenches his jaw but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. Fox is his brother—of course he’s Griffin’s priority.

  “It’s good we tried the locater spell,” Sasha says, her voice measured. She’s taking a different tack than she initially tried. Originally, she told Griffin he was naïve to think Brody would be stupid enough to let his plan be undone with a simple locater spell. I’m glad she’s trying to be kinder now. Making Griffin angry isn’t going to help us find either of them.

  Crystal snorts, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s so good about it? It didn’t work.”

  Sasha spares a brief withering look at Crystal before addressing the rest of the room. Bria, Tucker, and Dana look up from the grimoires they’re studying. “It’s probably safe to assume he’s cast the usual enchantments—spells to keep anyone from seeing Fox or Griffin, or from hearing them when they yell for help. But the kind of cloaking spell required to hide a person’s location from magic draws a lot of energy.”