One hides the truth from me.
I rack my brain. Maybe it was Carter. Vassago probably knew that Carter was really William. That would make sense. It was a warning about Carter and I’m overthinking it.
I’m about to close the file when I see something at the top.
DNE
.
That’s a Do Not Expel order. That means Enforcers aren’t supposed to kill it. But why? It’s a demon. We were told all demons are to be eliminated, despite their ranking, unless they’re involved in an ongoing investigation. But a level three wouldn’t be a DNE, not unless someone wanted it for something else. And especially not one that’s been unsighted for fifty years.
DNEs can’t be harmed by Enforcers or other witches. They have magical protection barriers that can only be broken by someone in the Triad, and are kept in line with GPS trackers like they put in dogs. They can’t be expelled by anyone else, but they can fight. I’ve heard about it only in the handbook, because it’s rare. DNEs are basically a get out of jail free card. Why would someone give Vassago a free pass?
I do another search on Vassago and 1962, which is crowded with deaths, then 1842, the year that article mentioning Emmaline’s disappearance was printed. I find a hit from the WNN records that mentions a missing persons report, but they don’t use Emmaline’s name. It may not be her, but that feels too coincidental. I don’t believe in those. Not anymore.
There’s a connection between my demon and the Spencer family and Vassago. I just have to find that missing piece. When I find it, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ll be close to getting back my magic.
There’s a noise behind me so I log out of the computer and head back to the main desk of the library. That gray-and-white cat is sitting on the desk, and I can see Poncho’s head where he’s bent over.
“What’s this one’s name?” I ask, tossing my bag over my shoulder.
Poncho pops up and follows my gaze to the cat. “S-e-a-k.”
“Hyde and Seak?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.
He nods. “It felt fitting.” I linger at the desk. Maybe he can help me. Or he could rat me out. “Anything else?”
I clear my throat. “Actually, I’m looking for some information on someone in my family. There was nothing in the search.”
Poncho raises an eyebrow. “Name?”
“Emmaline Spencer.”
He types something in the computer and then shakes his head. “I can do some searching for you in the archives, see if I find anything. But everything’s stored in the electronic archives now, so if it’s not there then… Well, I can look,” he says.
“That would be excellent,” I say.
He picks up the cat and walks back to his desk, jotting down something.
“Thanks, Poncho.”
When I get to the driveway, I see Gran working in the garden. Her back is toward me. She has on her white wicker hat, which means some serious gardening. The question of Emmaline Spencer bubbles up in my throat. Gran’s in one of her happy places, so it’s the perfect time to ask.
“Gran, can I ask you a question?” I start. She
hmm
s at me, pulling up weeds between the plants. I clear my throat. Now or never.
Spit it out, Penelope.
“Who was Emmaline Spencer?”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, Gran’s back straightens. Her hands keep moving, but I can see the tension. She’s so quiet the only noise passing between us is the sound of life around us. The cars, the birds, some kids on their bicycles, water sprinklers kicking on and off.
“Can you hand me the knife over there?” she asks, pointing to the pile.
“Are you going to stab me?” I ask.
Gran laughs.
“I’m serious.”
“Penelope, please,” she says. I roll my eyes since she can’t see me do it. I grab a small knife from her gardening kit. Gran holds out her hand, and I place the knife in it.
“Did you know that you never cut flowers with scissors? You have to use a knife, because the scissors will pinch the stem and water won’t be able to get into the flower.”
“Interesting fact,” I say. Which has nothing to do with anything. Maybe this is a deflection tactic. Gran starts cutting away a few dahlias from the stems. She sets them in a little bunch next to her.
“Gran. Emmaline Spencer? I found her name after I found Alfie’s. Do you know who they were?”
Gran snips another flower and looks at me. “How about steak for dinner?”
“Gran, Emmaline Spencer.” This is annoying. Why won’t she just tell me?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Penelope. I’ve never heard of either of them. You had a great-aunt Almie. Maybe whatever you read made a mistake.” She smiles and pats my hand. I don’t have to be a detective to know she’s lying. Plus, there was no Almie in our family tree. I’ve seen it.
“We can make those potatoes you like, too. Go put these flowers in some water for me?” She hands me the flowers, but I don’t take them.
“I’ve seen Alfie’s name in the Umbra.” I press. She’s refusing to look at me, so I know I’m hitting a button. “Why won’t you tell me?”
Gran stands and rests a hand on her hip, looking over the garden. I mimic her stance. I refuse to back down until she tells me something. She has to know. She has to.
“Penelope, I don’t know what you are looking for, but leave it alone. There’s nothing to say. I told you I don’t know anything. The flowers,” she says.
We stare each other down, but Gran shoves the dahlias into my hand and goes back to her garden. I want to ask her more questions, but I really don’t want to piss her off. I know when I’ve lost a battle.
Connie is sitting at the table when I get into the kitchen. She looks up at me from her magazine, and I grab the vase from the cabinet and start filling it with water. She watches me while I put the flowers in the vase.
“Carter—I mean, William—came by earlier.”
I blink, trying to catch my breath. He was here. Why was he here? I bet he hates me now. I just walked away from him today like he didn’t matter. He doesn’t matter. Does he? No, he doesn’t. Except that my whole future depends on him.
“Carter was here?”
“Outside, just standing there like he didn’t really know what he wanted or why he was here. I talked to him.”
“Y—” Talked to him. I bet Connie said something horrible. I hope she didn’t tell him I was crying last night. I won’t be able to face him. I can’t believe she talked to him. My heart skips a beat. I hope he didn’t say something about our magic—about me. About kissing me. I gulp.
Nothing should surprise you at this point. Ask!
“What did he say?”
“That he messed up,” Connie says.
I look down at the flowers and rearrange them.
“That he was sorry about it.” Connie reaches out and grabs my hand, making my fingers stop.
“That he really didn’t know what to do to prove it to you.”
I bite my lip and lower myself to the seat. “What did you say to him?”
She moves her hand and flips the page on her magazine. “I told him that he should probably go then, until he figured it out.”
I’m not sure if I’m touched or pissed at that. Right now, I’m a little of both. “Really?”
Connie nods. “Then he looked right at me and said, ‘Tell her I meant it. Everything.’ And then he left.”
My heart plunges into my stomach. What am I supposed to do with that? It’s unfair and it’s totally confusing. And it’s made worse by the fact that I have to see him tomorrow, work with him. I wish I never asked her.
“What happened between you two? I mean, before yesterday’s reveal.”
“It’s a long story, Con. Carter and me, it’s—” It’s what? “Complicated” is too much of a cop-out. I have to tell her. Gran comes into the kitchen and I nod toward the stairs. Connie follows me into my bedroom and I tell her everything from meeting him to our powers to tracking demons to our kiss to yesterday when I found out he wasn’t really who he said he was.
And when it is all done Connie is staring at me, this weird excited-yet-worried expression on her face. “That’s how you’d done magic! Why does it work with Carter?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
“I think you have some things to figure out.”
“I know. How can I work with him now after all of this?”
“I was thinking more that you need to figure out how you feel about him. He seems pretty determined to change your mind.”
“I don’t feel anything about him.” And I don’t. Not anymore. I can’t. I don’t want to. I have too much to do.
“Penelope,” she says, cocking her head to the left.
“Constance,” I say, mimicking her expression.
She throws her hands up, and then reaches out for mine. The movement reminds me of Mom again. She’s been doing that a lot lately.
“I know you. You’re not the type of girl who would tell someone all your secrets. Who would talk about Mom and Dad with a stranger.” The mention of Mom makes me miss her more. “And you’re certainly not the girl who stays up crying over a boy just because he lied. You wouldn’t do that unless you liked him. A lot.”
I know she’s right, and hearing her tell me that I like Carter isn’t some news flash. But if I could pretend I didn’t like him then it wouldn’t hurt this bad. I don’t know how to trust him now.
“I think you start by giving him a chance.”
“What?”
Connie shakes her head at me. “You said you didn’t know how to trust him now.” I didn’t even know I’d said that out loud. “You should talk to him. You want to be an Enforcer and you need him for that—and you feel something for him. Even if you don’t want to. So just talk to him.”
I throw myself on my bed and erase another text message to Carter. How do you apologize when you haven’t really done anything wrong?
My sister said you came by. And idk
I wait for an answer. It comes pretty quickly.
idk what?
Idk what you can do to make it right. Maybe nothing. But we have to do this together b/c I need you.
Good. I need you too.
Wait.
For the exam, I mean.
I know what you mean.
He doesn’t respond after that. Not for hours. Not until he says that he’ll see me in the morning for practice.
Chapter Nineteen
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
That’s all I have found on Emmaline Spencer in the five days since I first saw her name.
Well, not nothing. Poncho did discover that she actually existed. I was starting to think that Gran was right about her not being real, so that was a win for our side. The only win.
I’ve spent every hour of the last three days that I haven’t been training with Carter and Ellore in the library researching. Including most of the nights, at least when I’m not tracking with Carter as per our agreement, which he swears he didn’t break even though he was already there. I’ve been checking all the names again: Alfie Spencer, Emmaline Spencer, Vassago, my demon Azsis, the ritual to get my magic back, anything. Nothing new pops up. I researched the years 1962—lots of death—and 1842—lots of lame.
I even took to the stacks to search for links between my magic and Carter’s. There’s nothing.
Seak jumps on the table next to me and I slam another book shut and add it to my fail pile. Two piles, actually. Twenty books. I lay my head down on the table. I’m so tired. I just want all this to lead somewhere. Seak rubs his head against my arm, so I pet him begrudgingly.
“No luck yet?” Poncho asks, placing some more books on the table.
I look up at him. “Is this the face of someone with luck?”
I make my best frustrated/angry-pout/puppy-dog-eyes face. He studies my face. “It is,” he says.
“Thanks for your confidence.” Not that it does much.
My phone rings and Poncho frowns before he goes back into the stacks. He hates my phone. It’s Ric.
“Meet me for dinner,” he says when I answer. “I haven’t seen you in a week. I thought you were dead.”
“Not yet. Carter and Ellore are intense about training,” I say.
“Everyone’s intense, girl, but we take breaks for dinner. Is that where you are right now?”
I inhale. “Yeah. We just finished.”
“Huh,” he says with a pause. “Then meet me at Burrito Barn in half an hour. We have things to talk about.”
“Okay,” I say. I’d actually really love to see Ric. And my sister. And someplace that isn’t this library or a training room.
I’m three blocks away when I catch the scent of a demon. Or rather, it catches me. It’s been following me in its Non form for the last five blocks since I got off the Metro. I’m not sure why—or how—but it’s here. I pull out my phone.
Demon following me. At Eastern Market. Gonna lead it away.
In a few seconds, Carter responds.
I can be there in ten. I’m just at Gallery Place.
Great. He’s close.
I wrap my hand around my salt necklace and count to ten while I walk. Each number, each step, I tell myself this is not a bad idea—even though it feels like exactly that. I have no magic until Carter gets here.
I try not to look back so the demon doesn’t get startled, and keep walking. I don’t want to lead it into the Burrito Barn, not with all those Nons around, so I have to reroute. I walk right past the restaurant and text Ric.
Running late. Be there soon.
I can’t mention I’m luring away a demon or he’ll get suspicious as to why I can’t just kill it.
I keep a steady pace, even though walking is a bit hard to do with adrenaline pumping through my veins. Running would be so much easier.
The park is two blocks away and it follows me the whole way. As soon as we hit the grass, it makes its move. Its hands are cold as they wrap around my arms, pulling me toward it. I let it. I want it to think I’m weak. He sniffs me, overexaggerated.
“You smell unique, little witch.”
I ignore it, even though it chills me, and search around for Carter. Where is he? Then I see it—a flash of brown against the demon’s green eyes. That can only mean one thing: the Non is still alive, still fighting—and that’s a whole different game. The longer demons stay in a Non, the less likely that the Non will survive. Hours, usually, before the demon sucks away the soul and walks around uncontested in the skin. But when a possessed Non keeps the natural hue of their eye and skin, those things that make us human, it’s a good sign. Now, I just need to save myself and the Non inside. Somehow. Without magic.
“I was getting hungry,” it says. It licks my face with a sticky, sandpaper tongue. I cringe at the putrid smell of his saliva.
“Gross,” I say.
I don’t want to hurt the Non, but I have no choice. I kick it in the gut once, twice, three times, and turn to run, but it stops me with magic that sends me down. Crap. There aren’t many of them with magic; most are just freaky-evil strong. Demons with magic used to be witches, or are demons descended from ex-witches. Magic’s passed on, through blood, whether that’s demon or witch.
“I promise I’m not what you want,” I say. I can’t move my arms. Or legs. I can’t move anything. This is the same feeling I had when I was a kid. The same kind of claustrophobia and panic takes over. I try to stay calm, but I have no way out of this and my stomach clenches as I resist the urge to fight free. It would be pointless.
“Witch is exactly what I want,” it says. Its eyes flicker under his human form, and its fingernail stretches out into a claw. A claw dangerously close to my neck.
“Good thing there’s a two-for-one-deal today,” Carter tells it from the tree above us. I can’t lie—just seeing him there is reassuring.
“All you can eat.” He winks at me, and my eyes find the small shimmer of the magic shield surrounding us, keeping anyone from seeing what’s about to happen. Carter works fast.
The demon laughs. The human skin shakes at the sound, trembles like whoever’s inside is terrified. He should be. “You’ll be dessert, then.”
“Dessert? I’m more main course material,” Carter says, then hurls salt toward the demon and jumps from the tree. In human form, the salt only stings, no sizzle, but it’s enough that the demon releases me under from its power. I feel so rejuvenated by Carter’s magic that I force the demon to move against its will. It rams into the light post, and screams at the impact of metal on its skin.
“Good thinking,” Carter says, suddenly beside me.
I inhale, but my magic is wailing, a frenzy inside me. I want to let it go. To destroy the demon. Carter rests a hand on my arm. “We need to save the Non,” he whispers.
The human skin is thinning, turning browner in some parts where the iron is burning through to the demon. We’re weakening them both. I hate possession. If we kill the demon in the Non form, then the Non dies. If we expel the demon from the Non, then the human is freed—but the demon doesn’t go back to hell.
Carter says an incantation and I watch the Non shake before he falls to the ground. Black dust oozes from his ears, the aftermath of possession, but the demon is gone.
I lean down and press my fingers to his neck. There’s a pulse. Barely. Carter pulls me up by the arm. “We have to go.”
I yank my arm away. “We can’t leave him here.”
“I’ll spell a Non to find him. We can’t be seen here,” he says, his voice soft.
I can’t bear the thought of leaving him here in case he dies, but we run. We’re only four blocks away when I hear the sirens and I lean over and rest my hands on my thighs. Carter touches my back and I recoil.
“We had to leave him,” Carter says. “There would be too many questions. He won’t remember anything this way.”
That’s the only benefit of saving the Non. They don’t remember, but they never feel right again. Never normal. Even if they can’t remember.
“
If
he survives,” I say.
Carter sighs. “He has a chance now. If we hadn’t found him, he’d be long gone and you know it.”
This is the part of our calling that isn’t fair. The number of people who die in our pursuit for survival and safety. It’s not just Nons—it’s witches, too.
“Hey,” Carter says, pulling at my arm until I look at him. “It’s not like I enjoy this either.”
I start to say something about it when our phones ring—the WNN. He looks at it. “That’s our guy.”
“It followed me from the Metro. That’s strange, right?”
“Demons are strange lately.”
I raise my eyebrow. “There are so many. More than usual, and they’re increasing their attacks. It’s like the demons are targeting something and it feels—”
“What?”
“It feels wrong.” I pause, struggling for the right way to say it. “That’s not how they usually work. What’s going on?”
Carter shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’d love to find out.”
“Me, too.”
His phone rings again. He turns away from me, muttering words into the receiver. I can’t tell what he’s saying, but his tone is enough to tell me our afternoon is done. When he turns back around, he seems tired again, more stressed. “That was my dad; I have to go.”
“He calls and you have to jump?”
“That’s how it works in my world.”
I raise an eyebrow. “People jump for you?”
“Most of them,” he says, eyeing me. “I met one lately who’s more stubborn than the rest.”
“I bet she’s a handful. Why would you put up with it?”
“I like the challenge. She keeps me on my toes,” he says. I watch him, afraid to move in case he notices how much I’m staring or how fast my heart is pounding. He leans in to hug me. I’m not expecting it, but my body melds against his without me telling it to. “I was scared when I saw your text,” he says.
“I can protect myself,” I say. Even though really, without him or Connie, I can’t. He doesn’t call me out on it though.
Carter separates from me, but his face is still close to mine. So close that I can feel the stubble growing on his chin. His lips are right freaking there and everything inside my brain is telling me to turn my head and press my lips against his. I shake away the thought. I can’t do that. We are not in that place. I only texted him because I didn’t have anyone else, and he’d mentioned coming into the city earlier.
A small chuckle fills my ear, “I have no doubt.”
Carter doesn’t look away from me. In fact, I’m pretty sure he leans closer to me. I brace myself, knees bent so I don’t fall over. Nothing inside me is working as his lips get closer to mine. So close that they almost touch mine—but then he steps away.
“See you tomorrow,” he says, moving away without looking back at me. It’s a good thing. If he’d looked back he’d see that I’m a pile of mush sprawled out on the ground. That’s what happens when the thing you want more than life itself and the thing you didn’t expect to want are in battle for your heart and head.
There are no survivors.
I am so amped up from using Carter’s magic that I have to go on a run. I have to work it off so I can focus again. I get home an hour later and Ric is sitting on my front porch. One look at him and I know he’s pissed. I forgot about dinner.
“Ric—”
He stands, revealing a white bag on the step. “I got your favorite while I waited for you to not show up. It’s probably cold now.”
“I’m sorry. It was a demon.”
“A demon?”
I nodded. “It attacked me in the open. Carter and I had to—”
“Carter?” he asks. “You were with him?”
I nodded.
“Just like you were practicing with him when I called?” He says it quickly and continues, “I know you lied to me about that. I saw him across the street when I asked you. I get he’s your partner, but I’m still your best friend. At least I thought.”
I shake my head. “It’s not you, Ric. I’m sorry I’ve been busy with all of this…”
“I’m busy with the test, too, but I still make time for you.”
“It’s not the test, Ric.”
“What is it? What’s going on, Penelope? You’ve been weird ever since you met Carter.”
“It’s complicated,” I say.
Ric crosses his arms. In the twelve years we’ve known each other, we’ve never had a fight. Not a real one. I don’t know what to do with this. I can’t tell him anything. It would mean explaining too much, and I don’t have answers.
He throws his hands up. “I’m going home. When you have time for me again—or when you decide to be honest—you can text me. Maybe I’ll answer.”
He stomps off and I just stand there, staring at that stupid white burrito bag.