When I reached my room, I threw my bag on the bed and myself after it. Grounded? I was nearly eighteen. I was a straight-A student. I’d worked in the nursery at church since I was thirteen. I had saved the freaking world, and now I was going to spend my senior year under lock and key for cutting class one time? A drop on the faded quilt caught my attention, and I leaned closer. Quickly, it soaked into the carefully pieced cotton. And then another appeared, red as roses, seeping into the other one. I touched the stain, my fingers coming away scarlet.
Blood, I realized, my exhausted brain slowly putting it together. And it was coming from me.
C
HAPTER
15
T
he next morning, a bloody nose was the least of my worries. Colin was waiting in the kitchen, his face like thunder.
“Hey,” I said, going directly to the coffeepot. Too many trips Between and another round of nightmares had left me achy and disoriented. “Want some?”
“No.” He paused while I stirred in cream and sugar and took my first sip. “So. Last night.”
I looked at him over the top of the mug. He was tall, easily six feet, and he leaned against the counter as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Only the stormy gray of his eyes indicated the anger brewing underneath.
“It’s complicated.”
“That’s what I don’t get. You did what they wanted. Why can’t they find someone else to help this time?” He pushed off the counter. “You’ve seen Luc twice in the last twenty-four hours, and both times you’ve turned up looking like you’ve been put through the wringer. I don’t like it.”
“How did you know Luc was there?”
“You disappear from church while Billy’s got a full detail of guys watching the building. I don’t need magic to figure out who was involved.”
“It wasn’t his fault.” I set down the mug harder than I meant to.
“It never is. What does he want this time?”
“I have to go to school.”
I could almost hear him grit his teeth. “Grab your bag.”
If I’d thought the drive would be a reprieve, I was wrong. As soon as we were settled in the truck, heading into the stop-and-go morning traffic, he started in again.
“Well? That guy always wants something. Like I don’t already know what it is.”
“It’s not like that,” I said, flushing at the memory of Luc’s fingers on my jaw. “I was very clear.”
Colin snorted. “And he’s so good at respecting boundaries.”
Screaming wouldn’t help, despite my frustration. “Well, you’re too good at it. A happy medium would be nice.”
“Don’t push me.”
“It’s the only way I’m ever going to get anywhere with you.” Suddenly, the path before us seemed rockier than ever, so I steered the conversation back to marginally safer ground. “Remember how I told you there was something wrong with the magic?”
“Yes.”
“The Quartoren need me to fix it. They wouldn’t help Constance unless I agreed to try.”
Colin’s voice was like ice. “What kind of people use a fourteen-year-old girl as leverage?”
“I don’t have to like them,” I said. “Just help them.”
“You made the deal.” It wasn’t a question. He struck the dash once. “God. I wish you’d put yourself first sometimes.”
“You’d have done the same thing,” I shot back. “She’s a kid. She’s alone. I didn’t have a choice.”
“And Luc was happy to force your hand.”
“He wasn’t, actually. It was the Quartoren.” It was Luc’s idea to approach them, but I didn’t mention that part.
“This is a bad idea,” he said. “Billy’s worried. I know you don’t trust him—”
“With good reason.”
“Some of what he said last night was true. Ekomov is cutting into your uncle’s business. Billy’s scrambling for any way he can to chip away at their organization. His bosses are pressuring him to move more aggressively, and word is, they’re interested in you.”
“Me?”
“You didn’t really think people were going to forget about the lineup, did you? Billy’s bosses noticed you, and he thinks he can use that.”
“And you think the Quartoren are the bad guys?”
“Billy wants to protect you, but you’re a wild card. He figures if he can keep you on a tighter leash, you’re less likely to get hurt.”
“And I’m less likely to do something to hurt him, right?” Colin checked the mirrors and didn’t answer. As usual, when the truck pulled up, the girls lingering in the courtyard stopped and stared. He tended to draw attention whenever he showed up on campus.
“What does he have on you?” I demanded, ignoring their simpering smiles and hair flips. “You never say, but I know you owe him. What is it?”
“History,” he said. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
My fists clenched in my lap. “Don’t tell me not to worry. Billy does that when he’s doing something awful and he doesn’t want me to know the truth.”
“Sometimes it’s better not to,” he said, covering my hands with one callused palm. The tenderness of the gesture made the words cut deeper.
“You’re wrong. And wrong not to tell me. I don’t care what you’ve done. It doesn’t matter.”
“Then you don’t need to know about it, do you?” I started to argue, but he cut me off. “Do not skip class today. Whatever is going down in Magicland, it’s nothing compared to what Billy will do if you disappear again.”
Stung, I pulled my hand away and climbed out of the truck.
“Stay out of trouble,” he said. I turned to look at him, taking in the way the overcast skies darkened his hair to chestnut honey, his eyes the color of slate and just as unyielding. He wasn’t going to change his mind—about the Arcs or his past—and I didn’t know how we’d survive either obstacle. So I turned away and headed up the wide front steps, forcing myself not to look back again. By the time Lena found me at my locker, I could almost manage a smile.
“Wow,” she said, scrutinizing me. “Colin?”
“It’s better like this.”
She didn’t look convinced but nodded anyway. “You know what will cheer you up?”
“Brownies?”
“You wish. Chocolate later, okay? For now ...” She did a brief soft-shoe routine, complete with jazz hands. “Gossip!”
I couldn’t help smiling at her enthusiasm. I knew Lena watched everything that happened around school. But she didn’t often share her knowledge. “Juicy, of course.”
“Like a peach.”
She pointed down the hallway leading to the guidance office. “So, it turns out that Miss Turner used her school e-mail to send naughty pictures to the St. Sebastian’s basketball coach.”
“Seriously?” Miss Turner was the guidance counselor for the first quarter of the alphabet—if your last name began with the letters A-G, she was your advisor for your entire St. Brigid’s career. She’d spent a lot of time this fall trying to convince me to open up and share my feelings. She wore sweater sets and a blond bob that made her look too young to be advising anyone over the age of nine. I wouldn’t have thought she was the Girls Gone Wild type, but I wasn’t sure I knew anyone these days.
“Seriously. Sister Donna got a copy, too.” We headed toward first period.
“I assume Miss Turner will be leaving us to seek other opportunities?” I asked.
“Already done. The new counselor starts today.”
“That seems fast.”
“This is Sister we’re talking about.”
“Good point.”
I had hoped Miss Turner’s scandal would be the only story of the day, but by third period, it was obvious that wasn’t going to happen. While Lena and I worked on our chem lab, the rest of the tables were dividing their time between concentrating on their experiments—hydrochloric acid was nothing to play with, we’d been reminded a million times already—and observing me, like I was another science project. Doctor Sanderson strolled around the room, checking calculations and monitoring safety procedures.
It was reflex to take refuge in the experiment in front of me. This was exactly why I liked science. Things were predictable. There were rules to be followed, patterns to be observed. Even when the results were unexpected, you could eventually puzzle it out.
As I was measuring acid into a Pyrex beaker, Jill McAllister sauntered toward the pencil sharpener, a few feet away. Lena nudged me, and I looked up to see Jill, twirling her pencil, standing next to our lab table.
“We missed you in class yesterday,” Jill said. “Did you have ... family stuff?” Her smile was all teeth and no sincerity.
I checked the level of solution in my beaker, ignoring her. Jill’s dad, as she liked to remind people at every opportunity, played racquetball with the State’s Attorney. Jill believed this made her an expert on my family’s legal woes. I believed it made her an attention-hungry shrew.
“Or was it Constance Grey?” she wondered out loud, her voice carrying to the other tables. “Somebody said she OD’d in the girls’ bathroom.”
I jerked my head up. “She’s here today, you moron. If she’d OD’d, she’d be in the hospital right now. It was food poisoning.” I’d tried to find Constance between classes, but she always managed to slip away before I could get to her. Besides, the looks she’d been sending me hadn’t exactly been conversational.
“Food poisoning,” said Jill, flipping her shoulder-length blond hair over her shoulders. “Funny how nobody else got sick, isn’t it?”
“Don’t you have something to do? Somewhere else?” I asked, adding the neutralizing agent to the acid-filled beaker.
Jill’s eyes narrowed, moving back and forth between me and Lena. “You don’t have to be a bitch about it. St. Brigid’s is a family, remember? Speaking of families ...”
I tensed, waiting for the attack, but instead she homed in on Lena. “How’s yours, Lena? I never see them around at games and stuff. Why is that?”
“They’re pretty busy,” she said, bending over her notebook. The pen in her hand shook slightly.
“That’s too bad,” Jill said, her voice poisonous. “I’m sure lots of people would like to meet them. Maybe when Mo’s dad comes back, you could all hang out together. You must be really excited to have him home, Mo.”
“Thrilled.” But I was barely listening—my attention was riveted on the way Lena had paled at Jill’s words. I’d never seen Lena back down before.
“Well, can you let me know when the big day arrives? I want to make sure I don’t leave my purse lying around,” Jill said. Around us, the other tables snickered.
Instinct and temper took over. I met her eyes and, with a flick of my fingers, knocked the beaker over the edge of the table, the solution inside splashing across the tile floor. A few drops landed on her shoes.
Jill leaped backward, shrieking, “You did that on purpose!”
Doctor Sanderson came hurrying over, shooing us away from the spill. “Mo? Is that true?”
“No! I would never ...” For once, my reputation as a nice girl proved useful. “It was an accident.”
Next to me, Lena agreed. “We were almost done with the experiment. Why would she ruin it? Now we have to start all over again.”
The teacher scrutinized all of us. “You’d adjusted the pH already?”
I nodded. The solution I’d dumped was no more acidic than orange juice, but it smelled a lot worse.
“Well, I’m going to get the hazmat kit anyway. Jill, go finish your lab. Mo and Lena, there’s not enough time in the period to start over. Clean up. You’ll have to come in during lunch to rerun the experiment.”
As she left, Jill swept her hair back, her expression vicious. “You really are psychotic, aren’t you?”
“Everyone knows I’m a klutz.” I shrugged, putting on my most innocent smile. “What can I say? Accidents happen a lot around my family.”
She went white, then flushed, and stalked back to her seat. An angry buzz rose from her table. Lena stared at me.
“Since when are you the badass Mafia princess?”
I began rinsing out test tubes and eyedroppers. “Since never. I just snapped. It was the only thing I could think that might shut her up.”
We both glanced back at Jill’s table, where she stood with her cronies clustered around her, outraged and squawking. She didn’t say anything, but when she noticed us, her expression turned vengeful and calculating.
“Somehow I don’t think she’s the type to shut up,” Lena said.
C
HAPTER
16
L
ena and I went back to the chem lab during lunch.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to make more work for you.”
She brushed a stray piece of fuzz from her sweater. “Jill McAllister’s a bitch. She’s got it in for you, but I’m not her favorite person, either.”
“Does she know your family?”
“No.” Lena’s tone made it clear she wasn’t going to elaborate. “But do me a favor, okay? Next time she comes after you? Don’t miss.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Doctor Sanderson glanced up from a stack of papers and waved us toward our table. Before we could even put on our safety glasses, the intercom crackled, and the tinny voice of the school secretary was requesting my presence in the office.
Dr. Sanderson sighed heavily. “Go. You two will need to finish this tomorrow at lunch, unless you’d like to work independently this time, Miss Santos?”
For a second, Lena hesitated, running a hand over her thick ponytail. I tried not to feel hurt—it was my fault we had to redo the experiment, and it wasn’t like she owed me any favors. I wasn’t looking to make a new BFF, not when I was leaving soon. Besides, my life was complicated. And dangerous. Lena would be one more person I had to hide things from, and what kind of friendship was that? But it
did
hurt. Just a little.
“It’s fine,” I said. “You stay.”
“Nah. Lunch tomorrow is fine with me.”
To someone like Jill, it would have been a small thing. To me, it was a bright moment in a dismal day.
I was used to being called down to the office. I ran errands for teachers all the time, or went out on assignments for the school paper, but the echoing stairwell felt oppressive this time, and my feet dragged. As people passed me, their faces would light with recognition and then quickly turn away, like they were afraid to be caught staring. No doubt Jill had been spreading the word about Chem, giving the story her own spin.
I halted outside the office to straighten my sweater and smooth back my hair. I’d been wearing it down more often, leaving it a little curlier than usual, but at times like this it seemed sloppy instead of carefree. Taking a breath, I hauled open the door and stepped in.
The office smelled like tropical air freshener, the kind you plugged into an outlet, and the secretary peered at me from behind the main counter. “Go ahead. They’re waiting for you in Father’s office.”
The hallway was lined with pictures of each senior class, more than seventy years’ worth. Despite the dated outfits—wrist-length gloves, flowing hippie cotton shifts, shoulder pads like football players—each group looked happy and fresh, eager for whatever the world would bring them, confident they could handle it. I couldn’t imagine feeling like that when I left St. Brigid’s. The only expression the camera would capture on my graduation day was utter relief.
If I didn’t get kicked out first, that is.
I knocked on the open door. “Come in,” said Father Armando. He rose up behind the massive walnut desk to greet me. Sister Donna stood next to one of the burgundy armchairs, and she motioned me toward its twin.
“I expect you know why we’ve called you down here, Mo,” Father continued after we were all settled.
Not to award me student of the month, I was pretty sure. Those days were gone. Had Jill filed a formal complaint about today’s lab? I didn’t think so. She’d be looking to make her revenge a little more personal.
“We’re very concerned.” Sister Donna leaned forward, radiating tough love. “You’ve had a terribly difficult time, and everyone here has tried to be accommodating.”
“I know.” I twisted my fingers together and kept my eyes down. I’d had enough experience at home with lectures to know the tricks to make them go quickly. “You’ve been great.”
Father scanned the folder lying in front of him. “You seem to be struggling. Your teachers feel your performance has slipped. You’re isolating yourself from the other girls. And I still don’t understand what occurred during your college interview. That sort of impulsivity doesn’t suit you. Who knows what the consequences will be?”
I thought I’d been covering well enough, but they’d seen through it. My cheeks felt hot, my hands cold, both of them burning with shame.
“Our other concern is your attendance,” he continued. “You’ve cut class on multiple occasions. Including yesterday.”
“Constance was sick,” I said. “I took her home.”
Sister set her teacup down. “Leaving campus without permission is a serious offense. You should have alerted the nurse.”
The school nurse doled out Band-Aids, ice packs, and saltines. Not exactly what was needed.
“I guess I panicked. All she wanted was to go home.”
“Constance’s wishes are not the issue here. This isn’t your first unexcused absence. We’re trying to understand what’s happening with you so we can help, but you’re making it difficult.” She shook her head ponderously.
“Nothing’s happening with me.”
Father’s forehead creased, his voice full of gentle reproach. “That’s not quite true. Your mother is very excited about your father’s return. Is it safe to say you’re not similarly enthused?”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with my dad. My mom didn’t even tell me until last night.”
“Was that before or after you left church without notifying your family?” Sister Donna asked. “I know what you do on your time is not our concern, but it’s a pattern, you see? And we find it troubling.”
“I’m sorry I took Constance home without permission. It won’t happen again.”
Usually, an apology and a promise to do better will get you off the hook, especially if you’re rarely in trouble to begin with. But judging by the solemn looks Sister Donna and Father Armando were giving each other, it wasn’t going to be enough this time.
“You’ve had two unauthorized absences already this semester. According to school policy, disciplinary action should be taken.”
Tiny beads of sweat sprang up along my hairline. They were going to suspend me? There was no way NYU would take me if I’d been suspended. Panic began to claw at my throat. “But ...”
Father Armando held both hands up, fending off my protest. “As I said, we’re aware you’ve had a difficult time lately, and we’re prepared to offer you some flexibility. Rather than suspension, we’re putting you on probation for the remainder of the semester. No more unexcused absences. Your classroom participation needs to increase. Your extracurricular participation, too.”
“My extracurricular ...” I played soccer, and I was co-editor of the paper and a member of National Honor Society. I’d worked on the stage crew for the spring musical three years in a row. They wanted me to join more activities?
Sister Donna chimed in, like she was reading my mind. “Ms. Corelli assures us your work on the newspaper, if not enthusiastic, has been adequate. And of course, soccer won’t start until the spring. But your membership in NHS is a privilege, not a right. It can be revoked.”
“My grades are fine.”
“Honor Society is about more than a GPA and Advanced Placement classes. It’s about character, and service, and contributing to the school and community. You were so active last year, helping out with food drives and service projects, and this year ... nothing. According to Doctor Sanderson, you’ve skipped half the meetings.”
“I ... I’ve had a lot going on.” Like saving the world. Which should absolutely count as a service project, in my opinion.
“Which is why we’re giving you the chance to fix things. Doctor Sanderson pointed out that NHS is sponsoring the Sadie Hawkins formal. The proceeds, I believe, are going to Children’s Memorial Hospital.”
My stomach did a slow, unpleasant flop.
“Apparently, they’re still in need of help. Decorating, taking tickets, cleanup, that sort of thing. You haven’t volunteered yet.”
“I wasn’t planning to go,” I said. It would have been one thing if I could have convinced Colin, but I’d known it was a lost cause before I’d asked. He hadn’t proved me wrong, either.
“You don’t need to attend. In fact, since you’re on probation, you aren’t allowed to. But you can donate your time to serve the greater good. It might help you to focus on something other than your grief.”
I’d done a hell of a lot to help the greater good, actually, even if Flats like Sister Donna didn’t realize it. It wasn’t fair—I’d risked my life to help the Arcs, and all it had gotten me was trouble in my real life. Now it was starting again.
“What do you say?” Father Armando asked heartily, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction. “A little effort on your part and we can get you back on the right track.”
“I’m grounded,” I said, trying to look regretful. “I don’t think my mom will let me out of the house.”
“We’ve already spoken with your mother,” said Sister Donna, settling back into her seat with a satisfied air. “Last night. It must have been after you left. She thought this was worth making an exception.”
Of course she did. If I was suspended and kicked out of NHS, people might talk. And we couldn’t have that, could we?
“So,” said Father Armando, “are we in agreement? Is the old Mo back?”
I didn’t even have to think about it. Lying was a sin, and lying to a priest had to be worse, though we’d never covered that specific topic in Theology. But I’d do whatever penance they asked to salvage my chance at NYU. If it meant bringing back the timid, obedient girl I used to be, I’d fake it for as long as I had to.
“She’s back,” I said, forcing my lips into a smile.
I had absolutely no appetite after my trip to the office, but there was still plenty of time left for lunch. As I made my way to the cafeteria, Constance fell into step beside me, and I stopped.
“Did they kick you out?” she asked. She’d lost the bloodless pallor of yesterday, and her eyes were back to normal, china blue and filled with malice.
“I’m on probation.”
She seemed disappointed.
“How are you feeling?” I moved to touch her shoulder, but then thought better of it. The way she was looking at me, she’d probably rip my arm off.
“What did you do to me? I did not have food poisoning, and I wasn’t on anything, even if that’s what people are saying.”
“People say all sorts of things, but that doesn’t make them true.”
“You would know.”
Verity’s sister, I reminded myself. Alone and confused and she didn’t know about the magic. Like everyone else at St. Brigid’s, she’d heard the rumors that Verity’s death was meant for me. Obviously, she believed them. “I can explain what happened yesterday. Kind of.”
I’d been on the receiving end of this talk once, with Luc. But I hadn’t believed him, even though I’d watched him fight off monsters and transport me from Chicago to New Orleans in the space of a heartbeat. How was I going to convince Constance—not only that magic existed but that she could use it? It wasn’t like I could demonstrate.
I peeked into a nearby classroom. French verbs were neatly conjugated on the board and various posters of the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe were plastered across the walls, but there was no one inside. I opened the door and gestured for her to follow.
Once we were inside, I locked the door and moved away from the window, to the back of the classroom. The last thing we needed was someone interrupting us. “Tell me what you remember.”
She scuffed her shoe across the linoleum. “I didn’t feel good. My Bio teacher sent me to the nurse, but I didn’t think I’d make it. And then, everything went ... crazy ... all these lights and sounds. It was like standing inside a tornado, you know, the way everything was happening around me, and I thought I was going to explode right out of my skin.” Her eyes grew unfocused as she tried to remember. “I passed out. You were there, and that Lena girl ... and a guy. The janitor, maybe?”
I nearly laughed, imagining the look on Luc’s face if he heard someone mistake him for a janitor. She frowned at me.
“He’s a friend,” I said.
She looked skeptical but went on. “I dreamed we went somewhere, and he made the tornado stop, and it didn’t hurt anymore. When I woke up, I was at home.”
“It wasn’t a dream. None of it.”
She paused, her voice dripping with contempt. “Right.”
I took a breath, feeling time slow, the way it did at the top of a roller coaster, that infinite moment before you hurtled toward the ground. There was no coming back from what I was about to say, for either of us. “Magic.”
Her face went blank for a moment, then contorted into a sneer. “You really are crazy. Everyone said you lost it when Verity ... they were right.”
“I’m not crazy,” I said. “What happened yesterday, that was magic. Your magic.”
She took another step away from me, but I followed her, the words tumbling out. “Verity had it, too. They haven’t caught her killers because the things that killed her weren’t human, they were monsters. Actual monsters.”