Spellcaster (9 page)

Brendan had texted that he would wait for me outside the school. And as if there were an invisible chain pulling me to him, I knew exactly where to look for him the moment the bus pulled up.

His hands were in his pockets as he leaned against the school, his right foot propped up against the building behind him. He wore a navy hoodie over his uniform, keeping the hood up, his head casually resting against the stone structure. He looked calm and unbothered to any of the passing students who looked at him—and they most definitely
did
look at him, the scandal du jour—but his eyes were alive, actively scanning the darkened windows of the bus, looking for me. I held my palm up against the glass, and when our eyes found each other, his lips curled into a small smile—which faded almost immediately.

Brendan stood up straighter, and I could see his body get rigid. He squinted his eyes, giving me a questioning look.

“You okay?” he mouthed, taking out his earbuds and stuffing them in the pocket of his hoodie. I just shook my head.

My classmates had started filing out of the bus. I was antsy to get off, but we were stuck in the back, waiting for everyone to take their precious time exiting.
Really, it’s the weekend. Don’t you all have
somewhere
to be?
I glanced out the window and saw Kristin approach Brendan, holding out a Cloisters pamphlet and her notebook as if she were offering him her notes from the class trip. Of course, she held everything right underneath her overly padded chest—her boobs were practically sitting on her notebook.
Really? Who did she think she was kidding? She must
truly
want me to jump her after school.
She said something, but Brendan’s lips curled in disgust as if she were offering him a cool, refreshing drink of water from the subway tracks. He waved his hand as if he were swatting away an insect and walked away, continuing to scan the bus windows for me. Kristin pulled on his sleeve—and for a brief second, I considered doing the
Emoveo
spell on her from my perch in the back of the bus. I could feel the same heat taking over my body, crawling up my skin. In that moment, I had no doubt that I could definitely knock her down the block—or hell, through a building. I took a deep breath, regaining control of my emotions as Brendan jerked his arm back, giving Kristin the finger. Pure shock was etched on her tangerine face—surprising, since it wasn’t a secret that he hated her. She stomped away, pulling out her cell phone, no doubt to complain to one of her sycophants.

I looked up, and the bus had cleared out. I gave Cisco and Jenn hugs goodbye, and walked off the bus as quickly as I could, barely stopping myself from just running straight into Brendan’s arms.

“What’s going on?” he asked, taking my hand in his as we began walking slowly to the train station.

“Not here. People are looking,” I said quietly, casting a glance around at the students milling about.

“Don’t care. Are you okay?” he asked, kissing the top of my head softly. Finally I shook it back and forth, frowning.

“I knew it. As soon as I saw you, I just knew something was wrong,” he whispered, dropping my hand to rest his arm across my shoulder, tucking me into his side. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Chapter 4

“So is that everything?”

I searched for some kind of anger in Brendan’s eyes, but I didn’t see it. Just concern—and a little frustration at being kept in the dark—but there wasn’t anything hard in those glittering green eyes as he rested on his left side, his head propped up with his hand.

I nodded and he shut his eyes, taking a deep breath before leaning over me, steadying his balance with his palm resting over my left shoulder and taking care not to hit my raw knee. We were barely dressed, and we were sprawled out on his large bed in his family’s empty, palatial town house—but the situation was anything but romantic. For starters, I held a bag of frozen vegetables against my knuckles. Cisco was right, they were red. And puffy. And nothing sets the scene like a melting bag of broccoli.
Seriously, it’s the sexiest vegetable.

Brendan just had on an undershirt and his black school pants, and my clothing was in the washing machine on the floor underneath his—yes, he had an entire floor for a bedroom. So Brendan, an only child whose parents traveled a lot, had the place to himself. He was like a teenage Bruce Wayne, but without a driver’s license for the Batmobile. In fact, none of my New York friends had their licenses.

I was in a pair of Brendan’s boxer shorts and one of his T-shirts, which hung on me like an oversize shirtdress, but when I showed him the knife, any possibility of romance went out the window. All my rage and thoughts of vengeance joined it as soon as I’d stepped foot in his room. I started sobbing, stuttering out everything—the spell that foretold disaster for me and possibly Brendan, Angelique’s mystical sense of doom, which clearly predicted the attack at the Cloisters, the magic mojo I summoned to disarm my attacker—even Kristin and Kendall’s catty commentary. I probably should have left that last part out, but every lurid detail of the past twenty-four hours came tumbling out as I blubbered like a big stupid baby in his arms. I even continued to blubber while he gently tended to my shredded knee, cleaning it and getting the splinters out while I sat on the rim of the bathtub in his messy bathroom, blowing my nose into a continuous roll of toilet paper like the sexy beast I am.

“I understand why you think you had to wait to tell me about the spell you and Angelique did, but I need you to promise me that you won’t keep things from me anymore, even if you think you’re just looking out for me,” Brendan implored, wiping away an escaping tear with his thumb. I thought I had gotten them all out, but much like me, a few of my tears liked to run late.

“Okay.” I sniffled, blinking back the rest.

“Don’t just ‘Okay’ me, please,” he said a little more firmly, his voice getting more agitated as he continued to speak. “We talked about this only yesterday, remember?”

He pulled at his black hair, frustrated. “Promise me you won’t keep this kind of stuff from me, not even for a little while. Especially when it’s something magical! I mean, hell Emma, only four months ago, we beat a millennium-old curse that could have tortured our very souls for all eternity. I’m not asking you to tell me every time you use the damn bathroom, but when you do a spell that indicates that there’s a major evil out there for you, that’s even stronger than
us
—because that’s what those crystals meant, right? A billion evil little crystals and one tiny red one for us?—then I need to know!”

He took a deep breath and shook his head bitterly.

I whispered another apology.

“Stop apologizing,” Brendan moaned, rolling onto his back next to me with such force he almost hit the wall. He rubbed his face with his hands so hard I thought he was going to take his nose off. Then Brendan propped himself back up on his elbow.

“Emma, I know there’s magic at play here, but can you do me a favor and remember that you’re also in New York City?” he asked, and this time I did see anger glinting in those green eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you thought this spell meant something had come gunning for
me,
right? Well, so what if it had?” Brendan threw his hand in the air, exasperated. “That doesn’t mean some random crackhead wouldn’t still try attacking you if you were alone somewhere!”

“I thought I’d be fine in the daytime!” I defended myself. “I was in a park on a school trip, and I just had to get away from everyone for a minute.”

“Still, Emma. And I have another question. Did it ever even cross your mind to, oh, I don’t know, call 911?” I flinched at his harsh tone.

“Um, maybe you missed the part where I kicked his ass?” I retorted angrily.

“So? Emma, I don’t care
how
you disarm someone—with a few self-defense moves I taught you, or with magic, or with Mace, or they somehow get burned to a crisp by fireballs you summoned from the sky—if someone attacks you, you call the police,” he said through his teeth.

“Brendan, I didn’t even have a description,” I protested, and he cut me off.

“I don’t care. You should have—”

“Okay, Brendan, I call the police. And say what, exactly?” I fired back, throwing the bag of frozen broccoli on the nightstand angrily. “‘Hey, someone—a guy, I’m assuming—in a blackout mask clearly bought on the clearance shelf at Ricky’s the day after Halloween, pushed me into a tree. So I used these self-defense moves my semi-notorious boyfriend taught me, I punched him in the face, then he asked to
cut
me, so I used a repulsion spell to kick him, through the air, about twenty feet away. And I think he stole Ashley’s hair clip.’

“One more thing,” I continued, annoyed. “Don’t forget that I would have had to turn over that evil-looking knife before Angelique could get a good look at it.”

I pushed myself up on my elbows and pointed at the knife, which sat across the room on top of Brendan’s desk, and shuddered as if it could somehow fly across the room and stab me. For all I knew, that’s what it was designed to do.

“That knife is just more of a reason why you should have called the cops. Someone comes at you with a knife, you call the people with guns,” Brendan demanded, his eyes narrowing.

“Did you get a look at that thing? It’s clearly a ritual knife—they’re called athames,” I explained, still irritated. “And
that
one looks like it was designed with a very clear purpose.”

“The police deal with the occult all the time, Emma. Assault is assault, no matter what sorcery this guy might worship at home.”

“And how would I explain how I got away? I couldn’t exactly tell them about the spell I used to disarm this psycho! They’d think I was insane,” I argued, slamming my fist down and wincing when my sore knuckles struck the pillow-topped mattress. I dropped my elbows and let my head fall back against his pillow. “Think about it. I’d be the one locked up in a padded room. They’d think I was making it up for attention or something. I mean, who gets attacked
twice
in four months? We have to figure this out on our own. Besides, could you imagine if people knew spells
worked?
That’s why Angelique is always telling me that real witchcraft isn’t something we want to go around advertising.”

“Then maybe she shouldn’t dress like she fell out of a Tim Burton movie,” Brendan said sarcastically. He looked away, exhaling sharply before biting his lip. I wondered what words he was swallowing. But when he faced me again, his expression was calmer.

“Since you seem so sure that she holds the answer to everything, me, you and Angelique need to have a little meeting. The sooner, the better.”

I mentally cringed at the thought. I did not want to deal with Angelique and Brendan in the same room for longer than a few minutes. I doubted I could focus on anything other than trying to keep them from snapping at each other—and clearly, keeping my magical focus was crucial.

“I was already planning on calling her,” I said. “I texted her from the bus that I had a pretty big tale to tell her. She’s at work until six, though.” Angelique worked at Vince A as part of her scholarship deal, but she worked in the front office, home to cuddle bear Casey and her assistant, Mrs. Gary, a steely woman who always seemed to be wearing gray. I thought I saw her in pink once and almost had a heart attack.

“I have to know if Angelique sensed anything. I told you about her empath abilities, right?”

He nodded, looking unimpressed. “And you also told me that she had no idea what the spell she did only yesterday meant—and today you get attacked.”

“Stop nitpicking.” I sighed, shutting my eyes. “Angelique really does know her stuff—she’ll know what’s going on. Or at least know how to find out what’s behind it,” I insisted, opening one eye. “You don’t have to be there, I’ll tell you what she says. Everything, I swear it.”

“You’re joking, right? Just try to stop me from going with you to talk to Angelique about this.”

“So I keep one little thing from you, and now you don’t trust me?” I asked, my voice rising in pitch. I couldn’t help it, I was a little insulted.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s that
we
are going to deal with this.” Brendan’s tone was firm, but his touch was tender as he placed his palm gently against my jaw, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. “Someone tried to hurt you. Someone
did
hurt you. I can’t believe you’re even questioning how this involves me, too.”

“I’m not questioning you. Brendan, it’s just—it’s hard to focus when you two are together. You and Angelique don’t exactly go together like peas and carrots.”

“More like peas and poison, I know, but that’s her problem, not mine,” Brendan said with a determined grin. “Whatever, I’d rather you didn’t go alone. As proud as I am of you for punching this psycho and sending him running, I’d rather you didn’t
have
to. Even though my girl’s a badass,” Brendan murmured, his small, proud smile pulling at the corners of his mouth in spite of himself.

“Okay, that’s the first step. Witch meeting with Angelique,” Brendan addressed me, sliding his hand down my side until it came to rest on my stomach. “Deal?”

“Deal.” I sighed. I knew I’d screwed up by not telling him about the spell, but right then, all I wanted was for Brendan to stop taking charge and just comfort me and stop being mad at me. And I told him so.

Then Brendan’s tone changed to one I was more used to.

“I’m not mad
at you,
Em.” I gazed into those deep eyes, and all the anger was gone from his face. “I’m not thrilled with how you handled some of this, but…whatever. I know
why
you handled it that way. And I’ll get over it now that you’re not going to keep things from me anymore. Right?” he added pointedly.

“Right,” I mumbled.

“Good. Because like I said, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at what happened. Obviously I don’t like someone attacking my girlfriend.
Again.
And I hate that I wasn’t there to help you.”

Distress shot across his face. I could tell he was envisioning my battle with the hooded mystery psycho in his head, and his fingers raked so roughly through his black hair I thought he might pull it out by the roots.

“I understand why you didn’t tell me about the spell. But damn it, Emma, if I had known something was up, I would have ditched school and gone up there to be with you—no matter what crap I was dealing with.” Brendan sighed, prying his fingers from his hair to leave the locks sticking out all over. It was like his hair had just exploded. “I just wish you would realize that you don’t have to fight this by yourself. I’m in this with you—
so
far in this with you. If that means sneaking out my house late at night because you’ve just done a spell that scared you, or sneaking off school grounds to meet you on a school trip, I’m here.

“I’m
here,
Em,” he said again, gently squeezing my hip for emphasis. “We finally got here, together. Promise me you’ll remember that.”

“I promise,” I whispered.

Brendan rested his hand on my hip again, where he hooked his thumb into the rolled-down waistband of the plaid boxers I was wearing. Brendan looked at the boxers with a naughty smile.

“And I thought
I
was supposed to be trying to get into
your
underwear.” He tugged on the elastic before letting it snap painlessly back into place.

“Smart-ass.” I narrowed my eyes in mock anger, and tried to playfully whack his shoulder, but he deftly caught my hand.

Brendan shut his eyes, bringing my hand to his lips. He kissed my wrist slowly, softly. Brendan balanced his weight above me as he intertwined our fingers, bringing my hand to rest above my head. Slowly he trailed the back of his fingers down the inside of my arm and I could feel the path of his touch, as he left a trail of heat on my skin. He continued his caress down my side until his hand came to rest at my rib cage, and when I saw the adoring look on his face, my breath caught in my throat.

I was glad I had shaved my underarms and legs last night, considering that I sure didn’t expect this afternoon—or, hell, this entire day—to go this way. I hadn’t planned on being semi-undressed on Brendan’s bed, tangled up in his soft, navy blue sheets. I couldn’t imagine a bigger romance killer than if Brendan lifted my arm to see a hairy mess.