“You’re insane.” But she hesitated for a second before she said it, a chink in the wall of her disbelief. “You’re making up delusions, or something, because you feel guilty!”
I closed my fingers over the scar crossing my palm. “I wish I was. But the magic is real. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it.”
She scoffed. “Oh, you’re magical, too? Are we fairies? Do you have a wand?”
“I don’t have any powers. It runs in families.”
“There’s no such thing as magic, you freak! And believe me, my parents do
not
have magic.”
Her mom and dad weren’t magical. They were completely, beautifully ordinary. “Not your parents. Verity, though.” I paused. “Evangeline was teaching her.”
She shook her head, so rapidly I knew fear was overtaking denial, even as she tried to keep it at bay. “Great-Aunt Evangeline? You’re really losing it. She’s not a witch. She went back to her stupid antique store, that’s all. She doesn’t have magic, and she doesn’t care about us.”
The last part was true, but this didn’t seem like the time to mention it. “They’re called Arcs, not witches. You’re an Arc, too.”
“And you’re not.”
I tried to smile. “Figures, huh? Yesterday, in the bathroom, your powers manifested. Luc says it’s not so strong, most of the time.”
“Luc. The guy?”
“Yeah. He’s an Arc, too. He and Verity ... were friends.” I didn’t try to define what Luc and I were.
“And he’s”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“magical?”
“He’s an Arc,” I said carefully. “He wants to help you.”
“I don’t need help.
There is no magic
.” She rolled her eyes, trying to look nonchalant, but her hands shook. “And if I’m so magical, why wouldn’t Aunt Evangeline help me the way she did Verity? Or am I not magical
enough?
”
“Your aunt ... wasn’t an option.” I swallowed hard.
“Why not?”
“She’s dead.” There was probably a better way to say it. Something more sensitive, a gentler way to break the news. But though Evangeline was dead, my hatred for her blotted out everything else—rational thought and politeness included. Not even my concern about Constance was enough to make me sugarcoat it.
Constance froze, her eyes filling with tears. When she spoke, her voice was a cracked whisper. “She’s ... dead? What happened?”
Okay, maybe I could sugarcoat it a little. I needed Constance to trust me. Admitting I’d killed her aunt wasn’t going to help.
“Verity and Luc were trying to fix a problem with the magic. When she died, I agreed to help. But at the last minute, things went bad.”
As in, I found out your traitor of an aunt arranged for your sister’s murder, so I killed her.
I bit my lip.
“Bad how? What did you
do?
”
“We went to a sort of temple. The magic was falling apart. We were able to fix it, but the temple was destroyed. Evangeline was inside when it happened.”
“And you left her there?” Her face was blotchy, her breath coming shorter and shorter.
I swallowed the venomous words I wanted to say. Evangeline didn’t deserve to be mourned, but telling Constance the truth would be taking revenge on the wrong person. “I couldn’t help her. Luc and I barely made it out alive.”
“How hard did you try? As hard as you tried to save Verity?”
Before I could respond, she raised a hand, screwing up her face in concentration. Nothing happened. “If I was magical, I would have knocked you on your ass right now. I
knew
you were crazy.”
“You need someone to teach you.” I ached to hug her, but it was too soon. “We’re going to help, I promise.”
“I don’t want your help. And I don’t believe you!” Her shoulders shook, tears pooling in her eyes. One escaped, trickling down her cheek. “I want Verity back. And Evangeline. Can it bring them back?”
I can heal people, not raise the dead,
Luc had told me, and I closed my eyes, Constance’s loss making my own fresh again. My skin prickled, alarmingly familiar, and my eyes flew open. “You need to calm down.
Now
.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Her voice rose to a shriek. The temperature in the classroom dropped suddenly, and she paled. “What’s happening?”
Pain lanced through my temples. “It’s the magic. Breathe, okay?”
“Make it stop!”
“I can’t!” I grabbed a desk as the air began to hum. Whatever line she’d tapped into was starting to surge. “Try to pull back, like ... I don’t know, you’re turning down the volume.”
She nodded, her breath too fast and shallow. “It’s not working!”
My skin crackled as the energy coalesced around Constance, enveloping her and reaching for me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to find the place inside me capable of tapping into the magic. I envisioned myself unfurling, welcoming it in, as I’d done at the Binding Temple. I’d done this before; I could do it again. Especially when it was Constance at stake.
And yet, when I was finally able to make the connection, the sheer force of the magic pouring out of the line knocked me across the room. I heard the crack of the blackboard as I slammed into the wall and slid to the floor, the dusty slate raining down around me.
C
HAPTER
17
I
heard Constance’s scream as the magic crested, and then, blessedly, Luc’s voice.
“Take care of it,” he snapped. Another voice began to chant, the sounds soothing, like wind through leaves.
“Mouse?” I felt him crouch next to me, taking my hand. “You okay?”
“Constance got mad,” I managed. “Is she ...”
“She’s fine.”
“Darklings?”
“We got here early enough to shut it down. But you keep makin’ a habit of running raw magic through the school, they’re bound to take notice.” He brushed my hair back, his fingers light and nimble as they searched for injuries. The energy was ebbing, drawing back into the lines as the chanting continued. He probed at a painful spot on the back of my head. “Let me fix this.”
I nodded, too miserable to speak. He closed one hand over my wrist and trailed the other down my back, tingling warmth chasing away the pain. The room faded, and all I knew was his touch and his voice, foreign and silky as he cast the spell. Before his hand could travel too low, I opened my eyes and pulled back. “I’m better. Thanks.”
Across the room, a familiar face was tending to Constance, who looked bewildered.
“Niobe’s here?” I clutched Luc’s arm. The last time I’d seen her, in a bar that catered to Arcs, Luc and I were narrowly escaping an attempt on my life—one Niobe had made no move to stop.
“You requested a guide for the girl, didn’t you? Orla sent me.” Niobe regarded us curiously. “Playing white knight, Luc? Is that really wise, considering?”
He leaned against the cinder block wall and fixed her with a warning look. “What kind of companion would I be if I let her stay hurt?”
“A sensible one,” Niobe said. She wasn’t much older than us, probably in her midtwenties, with cinnamon-colored skin and hair cropped close, which emphasized her dramatic, elegant cheekbones. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes were constantly shifting between disdain and amusement. She made me feel drab and childish, especially as I sat on the floor in my uniform.
I struggled to my feet as Luc surveyed the classroom. Chairs were knocked over, the blackboard destroyed, papers blown off the bulletin boards. A toothpick model of the Eiffel Tower was smashed beyond repair. He rubbed a hand over his head. “What happened?”
“Remember how you said you wouldn’t want to be around if Constance tapped into a line without having any control? You were right.”
He smirked, but it was a faint imitation of his usual cocky smile. “I’m always right. You must’ve pissed her off somethin’ good.”
Judging from the look on her face, that hadn’t changed in the last few minutes. I moved closer to Luc, only a few inches between us, and kept my voice low. “She wanted to know about Evangeline.”
He swore under his breath.
“I didn’t tell her.”
Humor softened his features. “You? Lying to someone? This before or after you got walloped?”
“Don’t be a jerk.”
“I ain’t the one with anger management issues,” he said, giving Constance an unfriendly look. I made my way across the room, skirting upside-down desks, stepping over broken light fixtures and piles of books.
I stopped a few feet away from Constance. The magic in the room had dissipated, but I wasn’t ready for another round if she lost control again. “Are you okay?”
“What do you think?” she snapped.
“She’s not injured,” Niobe said. “I wish I could say much has changed since the last time I saw you, but ... it wouldn’t appear so.”
“Everything’s changed.”
She tilted her head toward Luc. “Not in essentials.”
“You guys
know
each other?” Constance asked, accusation plain in her voice. “I thought you said you weren’t magical, Mo.”
“Mo has carved out a unique place among us,” said Niobe. “Not an Arc, but bound and beholden to us, as we are to her.”
“Whatever.” Constance rolled her eyes. Behind me, Luc returned the books to the shelves with a few words. They slammed into place harder than necessary, and the noise made Constance jump, then glare.
“Orla sent you?” I asked Niobe, wanting to forestall another confrontation.
“Yes. I’ve already explained to your friend—”
“She’s not my friend,” Constance put in.
Niobe gave her a withering glance. “I’ve already explained to the girl my role in the Covenant.”
“She says you made some deal with her boss, so she has to help me. You didn’t even
ask
me.”
“I’m trying to help,” I said.
Behind us, Luc was reassembling the chalkboard with minute flicks of his fingers, the individual pieces flying up one at a time and fusing together, like a jigsaw puzzle. At Constance’s words, he wheeled around, his voice like a lash. “She struck a deal to save your life, little girl. You are small potatoes to most people in my world, and not one of them is losin’ sleep over how you handle this. She is the closest thing to a friend you’ve got. Polite thing to do now is tell her thank you.”
She watched the chalkboard fragments spin slowly in midair, and clamped her lips shut.
I pressed my fingers against my eyelids, trying to relieve the pressure. I wasn’t interested in playing referee, but protecting Verity’s sister wasn’t optional—and neither was my bond with Luc.
Luc tugged on my arm. “Best we go. I concealed everything when we got here, but I don’t know how well it worked. Niobe, can you take Little Miss Temper Tantrum? Figure you two have a lot to talk about.”
You could see Constance calculating the distance to the door and the odds of escaping. I knew the feeling; I’d done the same thing when Luc had told me about the magic. I also knew how useless it was to try to outrun this. She caught me staring and crossed her arms defiantly. “Take me where? I’m not leaving with you people!”
Niobe smiled at her, teeth brilliantly white against her dark skin. “My office, of course.” For the first time, I noticed the St. Brigid’s ID, clearly labeled STAFF, on a lanyard around her elegant neck.
“Wait.” I stared at her, remembering Lena’s announcement this morning. “You sent those pictures of Miss Turner?”
“Not personally.”
“That was a crappy thing to do. She won’t be able to find another job.” I shouldn’t have been surprised. They turned people’s lives inside out all the time and never gave it a second thought.
“Let it go,” Luc said, taking my elbow. “It’s what you asked for.”
Niobe shrugged. “Would you prefer we leave Constance unsupervised? Think of it as collateral damage.”
“We aren’t at war,” I retorted.
“Not everyone believes the Seraphim are regrouping. But if the rumors are true, rest assured they will do what they can to overthrow the Quartoren. What else would you call that?”
I didn’t answer.
“Hey!” Constance stamped her foot, eyes flashing. “I don’t care about Miss Turner or your stupid Quarters, or anything except what just happened. The room is still trashed. How are you going to explain it to Sister Donna and Father Armando?”
Niobe turned, appalled. “It’s hard to believe you could come from the people you do, yet know so little.”
Luc stepped forward and, with a few words, righted the desk. Niobe’s spell rebuilt the toothpick Eiffel Tower and reattached the light fixtures, filling my head with the sound of rushing magic. They worked perfectly together, wordlessly coordinating their movements, and something inside me twinged unpleasantly at the sight. I studied Constance instead. Had I looked like her the first time I’d witnessed magic? Had my eyes gone so wide and startled? Maybe, but the hunger on her face seemed more avid than anything I’d experienced. As the scattered papers reassembled into neat piles, the sheets swooping through the air like gulls, Constance reached for one, finally convinced. Luc and Niobe’s actions were better proof than my words.
“Come,” Niobe said to her when they’d finished, and Luc made a shooing motion. Constance trailed after her, pausing only to shoot us an expression of utter dislike.
I sank into a desk. I hadn’t wanted to look weak in front of the others, but my headache had returned in a rush, black spots obscuring my vision. I blinked them away.
“You all right?” Luc asked again, coming to stand next to me.
“Fine. Just a little wiped out.” I wasn’t so sure, though. Each time I interacted with the magic, the pain was worse. It hadn’t been like this before the Torrent; I’d hated going Between, but it hadn’t been harmful. I was starting to worry that whatever had gone wrong with the magic had hurt me, too.
“I could heal you again.”
“Niobe said it was risky. What did she mean?”
He sat on the edge of the desk, one long leg swinging, and said, “Niobe’s a prickly sort. She’s happiest when she can set other people on edge.”
“Luc, she was definitely implying something.”
He shifted. “It’s just a little dig. Suggestin’ I’m too caught up in worrying about you. Frowns on that, you bein’ Flat.”
I squinted at him. “That’s it? You’re sure?”
He reached out and drew an X over the school crest embroidered on my sweater. “Cross my heart, Mouse.”
The moment seemed to catch and stutter in time with my breath. “This is bad,” I said finally.
He raised one eyebrow, his finger hooked in my V-neck. “Respectfully going to disagree.”
“I’m serious. What if someone had seen us? What if the Darklings had come? The magic is dangerous, Luc. I can’t let it cross over to my real life.”
“We’re just as real as anything here. Anyone, for that matter. And if you don’t like us coming into your world, take your place in ours.” I started to disagree, but he cut me off. “Quartoren have kept their end of the bargain. They’ll expect you to do the same.”
I looked around the room he’d repaired so easily, knowing he was right. The longer I fought against it, the worse the damage would be.
“I’m ready,” I said. But I knew there was no preparing for what was coming at me.