Broken Spell (8 page)

I wake up in the middle of the night. In the dark house, I hear the faint but distinct sound of people talking. I decide to go downstairs to check it out.

The TV is on, Sportscenter playing in a loop through the night. On the sofa, Dad is sleeping, an almost imperceptible snoring joining the droning of the TV. His breathing is intermittent.

“I promise,” he mumbles.

“What?” I ask.

But he’s not awake. He’s dreaming. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”

Despite the guilt eavesdropping on his dream brings, I cannot stop listening.

“Please,” Dad mutters. “Stay.”

He’s dreaming of…Mom. The sorrow I felt a few minutes earlier comes back. I feel bad about invading his privacy. I slink to the kitchen, get a tall glass of water, and go back to bed.

Sleep never comes.

***

The swim team practice is over. I cool down in the pool while my teammates go to the locker rooms to hit the showers. They chat among themselves, but I’m the new guy. Coach Summers gives me a thumbs-up and leaves for the day.

I leave the pool and practice my starts. Since I never swam in competitions, I never bothered to learn the proper technique on how to enter the water. An imaginary bell sounds in my head, and I dive. Then I go back up and do it over and over again. I’ve got so many new things to learn: posture, how to bend your knees, proper foot position, correct impulse, the right angle of entering the water.

The other swimmers have finished their showers. They are leaving the pool building. These guys have known how to dive since they were little. I have to catch up.

It’s not the pressure I thought it would be. The repetition of diving, analyzing the movement, and trying again is actually soothing.

I decide to do a few more laps at my own pace, just like I used to before joining the team. It relaxes me. I don’t care about turns—something else I need to practice—during
my
laps. I tap one end and swim back.

After one of those laps, I see someone in the stands. A girl. Yara.

I go back and forth one more time, but I can’t stop wondering what she’s doing here. I reach for the ladder and come out of the pool.

She leaves her seat and approaches me.

“Hey, D,” she says, all smiles. Her eyes scan me from head to toe.

“Hey, Yara.” I wrap a towel around my waist. “So, visiting Greenwood?”

“Yep,” she replies, still staring at my chest. “It’s the place where the famous Singularity was found, isn’t it? Soon this will be a pilgrimage place for the Sisters.”

I want to remind her that my eyes are up here, but I don’t want to be rude. Or presumptuous. “That’s a bit of an overstatement.”

“She dated you, didn’t she? The Singularity,” she says, getting close to me. I instinctively bring my towel up, like a heroine of the old classics trying to hide her modesty.

Having her body so near to mine is unnerving. She is a beautiful girl—I can’t deny it. Underneath her open jacket, she wears a tight pink tank top that is crying for attention.

I keep my voice flat. “We kissed once. How do you know?”

“I have
chem with a couple of your Greenwood classmates. They told me you had a reputation. ‘KK’.”

“’KK’?”

“The Kissing King. That’s what they told me.” She makes a naughty face.

I laugh. “This is ridiculous,” I say. “They couldn’t know.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say the sampling size is too small to have a reputation.”

“Want to increase the sample size then?”

She gets close. As in crazy close, a few molecules apart, and she puts a hand on my chest. Her hand is warm against my cold, wet skin. I take a step back, but realize I’m close to the wall. I’m trapped.

“Look, Yara. I have a girlfriend.”

“It’s just a kiss. Would you deny a girl a taste?”

“Come on. This is not cool,” I say. My voice is serious now.

Yara removes her hand and retreats, making way for me. “It’s just a kiss, D. You don’t need to be so uptight. It’s not a big deal.”

“It kind of is. To me.”

Her disappointed eyes stare at me. “Okay, I get it.” She turns and walks away. “I’m leaving.”

I don’t want this to become a problem. Maybe she got the message. Slowly, I make my way to the locker room.

Before she leaves the building, she yells from the lobby. “Maybe you’d be better off locking the door to the showers. Just to be safe.”

I collect my things from my locker and drive away. I’ll shower at home.

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” I tell Mona. “Magic is just a small part of the Craft; the real essence of what makes a Sister a witch is the philosophy of the covens.”

Mona winces. “Philosophy? Really?”

“I mean the ideas behind it. It won’t be a boring college course, I promise.”

Ravenna Park is a perfect place to discuss it. Once more, Seattle’s abundance of verdant spaces help me attune to the Craft.

“Like in many other religions, the Sisters believe that all living things are interconnected. We all have this energy within us. We must respect life, but of course we must take into account that things change—the modern world and the evolution of the human race. I’m a vegetarian, for example, but not all Sisters are.”

Mona nods.

I go on. “Some of us, like me, believe in a deity, the Goddess. But others think it’s just a…symbol, an icon, not a real goddess. Like Mother Nature. Others are sure that the Goddess is a manifestation of magical energy. There’s no right or wrong explanation. You need to discover what’s true to
you
. This is something that you’ll figure out for yourself.”

“It sounds like Wicca.”

“Wicca is pretty close to the real Craft. Wiccans, like Sisters, disagree in some aspects of the tenets, like the true nature of the Goddess. But they all agree that we all have this energy inside of us. The main difference is that true witches can use this energy much more effectively.”

A girl approaches us. She is jogging and wearing a short skirt and long-sleeved shirt. The earphones put me at ease. She can’t overhear us.

“We can tap into this internal energy,” I say. “This is magic. When a Sister reaches Daybreak, an outburst of energy tells her she’s ready to practice magic. The Charms then ‘turn on’—and we can start infusing spells and potions with our personal magic.”

“How are Charms different from spells and potions?”

“Charms are always on and never release magical energy. Our Allure doesn’t go away when we’re sleeping. All your Charms stay on.”

“I lit a match and tested the Fire Immunity the other day,” Mona says with a sly expression. “Don’t tell Drake.”

“I knew you’d try it. I would too. Don’t worry; Charms don’t trigger any witch alarms.”

“What else?”

“I don’t know everything. Sorry, Mona, but you drew the short straw. Those things are usually taught by the Mothers. They have studied their whole lives. I’m only a little ahead of you on the Craft. I know what most Sisters my age would—and a little more, because Judi and Mum are good teachers. I can teach you the tenets, the basics, and just a few advanced things. I could train a Sister who wasn’t raised as one, but you… Everything I know, I’ll share with you, okay?”

Mona doesn’t sound disappointed. “Awesome. I need all the help I can get.”

“We need to figure out your Charms,” I tell Mona. “We all have two. I have Allure and True Sight. Mum has Allure and Charisma.”

“Is Allure the most common?” she asks.

“Yes. We already know you have it.”

“Jane didn’t have it. She had Steal,” Mona says.

“I don’t even know what it is called. Very rare. But ‘Steal’ sounds about right.” The mention of Jane throws me a little, but then I remember Mona doesn’t know many Sisters.

“How could she steal my magic?”

I hesitate, but she needs to hear it. “When a Sister dies, her magic returns to the Goddess. Some say it returns to the Cosmos, Earth, or Nature. The point is, the magical energy goes back to the universal pool. Jane’s Charm can capture magical energy before that. It can also temporarily hijack one’s Charm.”

“Like your True Sight?”

“Right. My Charm lets me see auras if I use this.” I tap my glasses with rainbow-colored lenses.

“Can I see them?”

I hand them over. She weighs them on her hand and then looks at them against the bedroom light. Then she puts them on.

“Whoa!”

“What?” I ask.

“You have a glow around your head.”

“For real? Mona, you may have True Sight too. If you do, you’d have three: Fire Immunity, Allure, and this one. Can you sense me?”

“No.”

“No? Like a tingling sensation all over your body?”

“Nothing.”

I expected to be disappointed, but the reality is I’m a little relieved. True Sight has always been
my
thing. It almost defines me. That’s why they selected me for the Search, after all.

Wow, I didn’t know I could be that selfish. Still, Mona has power in spades; it’s not like she won’t have magic to spare.

“Can I take them to school? They’re not prescription.”

Of course, she’s excited. The energy and magical effects are almost always unidentifiable, invisible. Especially for her, when she cannot use the Craft at all, it must be something to see auras around people.

“Sure, but take care of them. This is my new pair, custom-made for me.”

She turns her head around, looking at trees and bushes.

“It only works on people and animals,” I volunteer.

“Oh.” She takes them off and puts them inside the case I hand to her. “Now what?”

“I’m still trying to figure out how your powers work. Charms are supposed to be always on, like your Allure. So if you had True Sight, it’d be on right now, and my signature so close to you would overwhelm you. So it’s Aura Sight Charm.”

“Only Aura Sight?”

“‘Only?’ It’s great. Useful too. The important thing is: this is your third Charm! I never knew someone could have three. You…”

“What about me?”

“The things you can do are unheard of. You may have other Charms manifesting right now, and I couldn’t identify them. I might not even notice them. You are such an outlier, I cannot understand some things that are going on.”

She giggles. “You know how to boost an ego, don’t you?”

I smile. “I mean it. In the past—like, hundreds and thousands of years ago, the Sisters were more powerful. I wish I knew more about the Sisters’ history, so I could understand your powers.”

“Maybe you could ask your mother. Or Judi.”

Smart girl. “Good point. But I need to figure out how to raise the subject without making them suspicious.”

I’m proud of Mona in a strange way. Training her makes me see myself as a teacher. I’m growing up. Taking on responsibility. Which is true: since I’ve made the decision to not hand her over to the covens, I’m responsible for her.

“Here, I have something for you.” I take a necklace with a pendant from my pocket.

“A pentagram? That’s totally me! Thanks, Skye.”

“It’s not jewelry. Well, it was. Before I infused it with a spell. Now it’s an amulet.”

Her eyes go big. “A magical amulet? Are you kidding me?” She snatches the necklace from my hands. “What does it do?”

I love her enthusiasm. “It is a Protection amulet. It’s as if a Protection spell is always on. It helps with deflecting malignant spells and potions. It’s not that powerful; it only has my personal magic, so don’t rely on it. It can slow down, but not contain Night magic spells completely. Night magic would probably be stronger than my pitiful necklace.”

Mona holds it against the sky, examining every detail of the pendant. It’s a simple pewter pentagram inscribed in a circle.

She tries to put it on but can’t quite navigate the clasp. She turns, and I do it for her. “Is Night magic stronger in general?”

“Yes. They are not afraid to dig deeper into the primal aspects of energy.”

“What do you mean?”

“
A Night Sister may kill animals during her rituals, for example, and use their energy in tandem with hers and their blood in potions. Some of us believe spirits, or beings of magical energy, are around us. Night Sisters call on them, invoking their energy. This makes for powerful magic, but it’s tainted magic. That’s not what the Craft is about. The true Craft celebrates life. Always remember that.”

***

I’m distracted by the drizzling rain hitting the windshield. The metronomic sound the wipers make is trying to put me to sleep.

Drake and I
remain silent. It’s good not having to talk. We’re both comfortable with it, at least for a while. Later, I plan to cozy up to Drake, though. I’m not made of steel.

He’s driving me to a Wiccan shop. I can get my supplies—herbs, mostly—from them.

A small electric current starts to spread along my spine. “A Sister is approaching,” I say, turning to look through the back window. It’s foggy, though.

“Your spider sense?”

“Yep.”

He looks at the rearview and side mirrors. “Doesn’t that happen often, though? I mean, your reach is wider; you probably pick up witch energy all the time.”

“There aren’t that many witches. Sometimes I sense one, but they’re usually far away and their energy fades as we move. Now we’re in a moving car, and the energy is constant.” I look back to the road.

“Do you think someone is following us?” he asks.

“Maybe.”

“Jane?”

“Maybe. I can’t see a motorcycle, but it doesn’t mean anything. She lost hers, remember? And she could be driving. Slow down.” I put my hand on his arm.

“Anything?”

“The energy is level. But I cannot see which car it is.”

“Let me try something.”

He swerves to changes lanes and turns left when the opposing traffic slows down.

The energy barely fluctuates. “She’s still behind us. About the same intensity. She’s keeping a distance, which means she knows I’m a Sister, but doesn’t know about my True Sight.”

Drake tries a few more unexpected turns, but our pursuer keeps following us.

“Can you see the car?” I ask.

“No. We could go to streets with less traffic. Or stop altogether. Why would someone follow you? If it’s Jane, she knows where to find us.”

I’m trying to come up with a plan. “Let’s bait her. Drop me off somewhere. If she’s following me, you can go around her and figure out who she is.”

“Maybe she is following me,” he says.

“Then why would she stay just out of a regular Sister’s range?”

“Good point. Okay, but I won’t leave you at just any place. You need to be safe. Can’t be your house, because she may be looking for where you live. Pri’s house?”

“No, she’s texted me; she’s at the mall. Yara’s house?”

“Won’t you confuse her signature with the bad guy’s?”

“No, I can sense direction and intensity. But Yara would be suspicious. We need a public place, but not a crowd. We need to figure out who she is.”

He makes a sharp turn. “I know. I’ll drop you off around the corner and keep going. She’ll follow me, but maybe you can get a look at her.”

“She’ll sense me when she’s close.”

“I have no other ideas. Let’s trap her,” he says.

Drake speeds and makes another turn near a gas station. He brakes, and I get out of the car even before he comes to a total stop. I slam the door shut, and off he goes.

Hiding behind the wall of a shop, still in the rain, I wait for our pursuer. I ready my cell phone and point the camera to the road. She’s close enough that she can sense me. Then I spot her. The same silver Ford Focus I saw at Mona’s dance. It approaches the corner. The woman driving is looking around, probably searching for me, the source of energy.

Something comes over me, and I step forward, in plain view of her. We lock eyes, and I snap a picture.

She swerves left all of a sudden—in the opposite direction Drake went. A car brakes, avoiding a collision, and honks at her, but she’s gone. I punch in the plate numbers on my cell, just in case the picture didn’t get it. Then I call Drake.

“She’s gone.”

“I’m picking you up,” he says.

While I wait, I zoom in on the shot. Her face is blurred, the rain-drenched windshield hiding her features. The phone’s camera is not good, and she was going fast, trying to catch up to Drake.

Drake parks in front of me, and I get in.

“I got a picture of her, but I cannot see her face. I have her plates, though.”

“Good. Let me take a look. Ugh, it’s all fuzzy.”

“Well, it’s clear it’s not Jane. It’s just one Sister.” I dry the rain water from my face with my sleeves.

He looks at me. “A Night Sister.”

“Yep. And I bet she’s wondering how we detected she was following us. She knows—her coven knows—that we saw them. Maybe this will force them to make a move.”

“We need to be ready,” Drake says with gritted teeth. He takes to the road again, his hands on the wheel in a tight grip.