Tuesday morning dawns crisp and cold, and I groan when my alarm goes off. Crystal called an emergency circle meeting last night to prep for the anchoring spell. I was stuck in the Holloways’ basement until after eleven—a fact that earned me a lecture about appropriate hours on school nights when I got home. Sleep was fitful at best. Although I handled the crystal as much as possible last night and didn’t sense anything dark or ominous about it, a sense of dread lurks at the edges of my mind. I’m still not convinced anchoring to it is the best idea.
The display on my cell announces I’ve missed several texts from Crystal. I blink a few times to clear my vision enough to read them. They’re all about clothes, including a schedule of the types of outfits appropriate for each day of the week as well as a few suggestions about what I should wear today. I roll my eyes.
After searching through my closet for a few minutes, I select an outfit that might meet Crystal’s criteria, but when I get to my bathroom, I just stare down at it. I have no interest in putting as much effort into my appearance as Crystal seems to think I require. I catch the eyes of my reflection and an idea flashes in my head: I could do another glamor spell. I laugh at the thought. Wouldn’t that be amazing—not having to worry about doing my hair or makeup or picking the right outfit from my closet, just using magic to make it so? I bite my lower lip. It might be worth it.
In my mind’s eye, I conjure an image of how I want to look today. I close my eyes and wait for the feeling of warmth to course through me, but it doesn’t happen. I take in a breath and try again. I reach out and connect with the thrum of energy in the things around me—the air, the wind whistling against the windows, the trees in the yard. A tingle begins at the crown of my head and slowly creeps downward. After what feels like minutes, my entire body buzzes with energy and I open my eyes. A giddy bubble rises in my chest. I did it. I spin, admiring the fit of my jeans and the cut of the purple top that hugs my body.
“I’m never gonna have to buy clothes again,” I murmur.
By the time I make it to the dining room for breakfast, I’m grinning from ear to ear. Sounds in the kitchen tell me my mom is in there, making breakfast, and the need to see her floods through me. In my head, I’ve accepted she’s here now, part of this reality, but my heart keeps expecting her to disappear. I lean in the doorway, watching as she scrambles eggs. She glances up at me, raising an eyebrow.
“What?” Heat rushes to my cheeks. I’m staring too much, I know I am. But I can’t help it.
Mom shakes her head. “Nothing. Just usually you’re dressed before you come downstairs.”
Confused, I look down. I’m still in my pajamas. Somehow, the glamor I cast wore off between my bathroom and the kitchen. The skin on the back of my neck prickles and I look around, grasping for an excuse for my appearance. My eyes land on a pile of shoes by the front door and I cross to them. “I, uh, just wanted to make sure the shoes I wanted to wear were down here,” I say, scanning the pile for a pair that might fit my feet. “I didn’t see them upstairs and—ah.” I rush to the end of the hall and select a pair of ankle-high brown leather boots, setting them off to the side. “Found them. Didn’t want to get dressed and then not be able to find the right shoes.”
Mom grins from the kitchen doorway. “The horror.”
I rush back upstairs and pull on the outfit I chose earlier. Why didn’t the glamor hold? I did exactly the same thing I did yesterday, and that spell held until I got home.
Of course, I know exactly what the difference is: the crystal. I used its energy to cast the spell yesterday. That’s why it was so much easier to cast—and hold—the illusion. It really does make magic easier. Maybe there’s something to the circle’s desire to anchor to it.
No. Just because I didn’t feel anything last night doesn’t mean I think it would be a good idea to anchor myself to it. What if the power-hungry feelings I had Sunday evening return when I’m linked to the stone—and I can’t turn them off? What if the whole circle feels the same way? We would tear each other apart. It’s not worth the risk.
It’s clear the others don’t share my opinion. At school, all Crystal, Lexie, and Bridget can talk about is the ceremony tonight. Fox brings it up to me once, but when my response doesn’t match his exuberance, he drops the subject.
The first few hours of the day pass in a haze. At lunch, Fox’s cell buzzes every few minutes, and each time, he picks it up, grins, and replies. A few times, he shows the message to Zane. After about a dozen times, I can’t curb my curiosity. “What’s so funny?”
He shakes his head, his eyes on the screen as he taps out a reply. “Nothing—it’s just Griffin.” He fixes me with his gaze as he tucks the cell into his back pocket. “It’s slow at the garage and he keeps sending ideas of all the things he won’t ever do again once we anchor to the crystal.”
“What do you mean?”
He smiles and I find myself smiling back. I bite the inside of my cheek, dropping my gaze to the lunch table. He is not my boyfriend. He might think he is, but that doesn’t make it so.
“Just simple stuff,” Fox says, his tone still as light as before. “Like he’ll never have to search for the right size wrench—he’ll just use magic to twist off bolts. And he’ll have a never-ending supply of Mountain Dew.”
I shift on the hard plastic seat. “Can’t he do those things now?”
Fox’s eyebrows cinch. “You know how much concentration it takes for him to do spells—even simple ones. There’s no way he can focus enough to loosen bolts at work—not with all the noise and stuff around. And, in case you forgot, you’re the only one who’s been able to do a multiplication spell.”
His cell buzzes again and it’s in his hand in a second. I’m glad for the interruption since I’m not entirely sure how to respond to him. I don’t know exactly what a multiplication spell is, but it probably has nothing to do with math. Could I really make more of something out of thin air, just with magic? And why would I be the only one in the circle who’s been able to do it? Yesterday in the bathroom, Bridget said I was the best at glamors. Am I the best at all magic?
The first time I did magic with Crystal, she said she’d never felt power like mine before. Is the same thing true in this reality? Am I the most powerful member of the circle? How am I supposed to play along with that? What if someone asks me to do a spell and I can’t do it?
It won’t be a problem if you anchor to the crystal. The solution is so simple. I did the glamor without any problem yesterday—because I was using the crystal. If I anchor myself with the rest of the circle, I won’t have to worry they’ll realize I’m not the girl I’m pretending to be. I’ll be able to do magic the way they think I’ve always been able to do. Better, even.
These thoughts swirl in my head for the remainder of the school day. It’s a mark of how excited everyone is about tonight that no one notices I’m not saying much. Fox drops me off at home with a promise to pick me up at seven for the circle’s meeting. I’m so distracted I don’t put up a fight when he leans across the center console to kiss me—and he’s so caught up in the idea of tonight that he doesn’t notice I don’t kiss him back.
The house is empty and, while I’m thankful for it, I almost long for the presence of Jodi or my mom—just to distract me. I try to lose myself in homework, but my attention wanes. I reread the same line of the short story from English class a dozen times without gleaning any information from it before giving up.
Lying on my bed, staring at the sloping ceiling above, I slip my ring on and off, trying it on each of my fingers and my thumbs, willing a vision to come. I need direction about the anchoring spell tonight. Sunday, I was convinced the crystal was dark and evil, but now I’m not so sure. What if the sensations that overtook me when I held it had nothing to do with the stone itself? I haven’t experienced anything like it since.
Crystal expects me to anchor to the stone with the rest of the circle: She didn’t have to say it out loud for me to know it. I’m one of them now.
But what happens if I don’t go through with the spell? Am I out of the circle? My stomach flutters at the prospect. Could it be that easy to break away from them? Despite what they think, they’re not my friends. Maybe cutting ties with them would be the first step in reclaiming the life I used to have.
***
The full moon hangs low on the horizon. I can just make it out through the branches of the trees outside Fox’s house. It looks enormous—double its normal size, like it’s closer than usual, somehow. Like it knows what the circle plans to do tonight and is ready to play its part.
Fox pulls his truck into the driveway, behind Griffin’s Mustang. Crystal’s car—a bright green Spark—is parked in front of the house, along with Zane’s motorcycle. Assuming Crystal picked up Lexie and Bridget, everyone’s here.
The overhead light comes on as Fox opens his door. “You coming?”
I follow him up the driveway, apprehension building with each step. Instead of heading to the front door, he leads me to the back yard. Murmuring voices greet my ears even before we turn the corner of the house, and the other members of the circle are revealed, faces lit by flickering firelight. In the center of a ring of white stones the size of Chihuahuas is a small fire. To the casual passerby, it might look like the seven of us are making the most of this autumn evening, probably one of the last mild nights we’ll have as we head into November. But we’ll not be roasting marshmallows or sipping pilfered alcohol tonight. Although it’s difficult to see in the darkness, there’s a ring of herbs spread out just beyond the white rocks, and another of salt a few feet beyond that—just inside the ring of canvas camp chairs Crystal and the others sit in. I’m sure I wouldn’t have been able to pick up on either of these things if I didn’t know they’d be there: We spent several hours last night spelling the herbs and salt to prepare it for the ceremony.
Griffin rubs his hands together when he catches a glimpse of us and stands, kicking his chair out of the way. “Finally. Let’s get started.”
Zane and Bridget sit at attention, but Crystal merely tips her head backward. “It’s still too early. The moon’s gotta be higher.”
Griffin curses and mutters something about being right back before wandering into the house. Fox settles in the empty chair beside Zane, leaving me to the chair on Crystal’s left. She nods a hello before turning her attention back to the large, leather-bound book in her lap—Crystal Taylor’s book of shadows. Bridget offers a smile, but Lexie doesn’t even glance up. A week ago, I would have been sitting beside her, but this girl is not much like the Lexie who was my friend. She stares at the illuminated screen of her cell, not even acknowledging my presence. That this doesn’t bother me is unsettling.
These people aren’t my friends, but it’s naive to think that by not being a part of the circle will somehow transform things back to the way they used to be. Even if I could befriend Bria and Owen and West and Felix again, it wouldn’t be the same because we wouldn’t have Lexie—not the way she was.
No, that life is gone. All I can do now is make the best of this life, of these circumstances. And why shouldn’t that mean making the most of my magical potential?
I twist my ring around my finger and stare into the fire, watching as the orange tongues of flame twist around each other and lap against the air. This is my life now, and I need to take control of it.
I’m not sure how much time passes before Fox gives my shoulder a gentle shake. I blink a few times. Griffin has emerged from the house and the rest of the circle’s members are standing, their chairs positioned several feet behind them. I stand, too, and Fox moves my chair back.
Crystal kneels, holding her phone up like a flashlight above the yellowing pages of the large book on the ground. Lexie clicks her tongue impatiently. “Come on, Crystal. If you don’t know the spell by now, you never will.”
Crystal glares at her. “I just want to be sure. This is possibly the most important spell we’ll ever cast. Excuse me if I want to make sure I get it right.”
“Well, maybe if you’d let anyone help you.” Lexie casts a reluctant glance in my direction and I shift. An echo builds in my mind as thoughts that aren’t mine fill my head. I sift through the noise until impressions clarify themselves: Lexie thinks I should be the one leading the ceremony. It irks her, but she knows I’m the most naturally gifted of the group.
I suck in a breath, rolling my shoulders. No matter how many times it happens, it’s still awkward when I hear what someone else is thinking. I can’t help feeling the tiniest bit guilty. A person should be safe in her own mind and not have to worry about someone overhearing her. But, it’s not like I’m trying to read her thoughts. It’s a small consolation.
“I don’t need help,” Crystal says, slamming the book closed and placing it behind her. She stands and pulls something out of her jacket pocket. I don’t have to see it to know what it is. “I’ll recite the spell. I’ll pass the crystal to Bridget and she’ll pass it to Lexie and so on until it gets back to me. Make sure you take it with your left hand and pass it to your right hand to give it to the next person—”
“We know,” Griffin says, his tone impatient. “We’ve only been over this a hundred times.”
Crystal doesn’t look at him. “When it gets back to me, follow my lead for the last part of the incantation. Do your best not to move—you might mess something up. And whatever you do, don’t cross the salt line.”
Bridget bites her lower lip. “What happens if we do?”
Crystal rolls her eyes, adding an exasperated sigh for effect. “You break your link to the spell. So, feel free to cross the line if you want, but you won’t be connected to the crystal.”
Bridget tugs at her jacket, muttering under her breath. Zane snorts.
“Now, if there are no more questions…” Crystal’s eyes linger on Bridget, who stares resolutely at the fire. “Then let’s get started.”
“Finally.” Griffin is the first to cross into the salt circle. He rakes his upper teeth over his lower lip, his eyes fixed on the stone in Crystal’s hand. The eagerness radiating off him hits me like a wave, like the heat of the fire. He’s been waiting a long time for this—they all have been.
I’m the last to step into the circle. Crystal surveys us before holding the quartz out in front of her. She lifts it, cradled in her palms, toward the moon and begins murmuring an incantation in a language I don’t recognize. As she speaks, the air around us becomes charged with electricity.
The words she chants begin to sound familiar and I realize she’s repeating the incantation. She brings her arms back down and passes the stone to Lexie with her right hand. As directed, Lexie takes it with her left hand and passes it to her right before giving it to Bridget. I follow the crystal’s progress around the circle, from Griffin to Zane to Fox. I reach my left hand out toward Fox, my skin tingling with anticipation. As my fingers close around the chunk of quartz, I brace for a thrum of energy, a flash of feeling—anything—but nothing happens.
I’ve made the right decision. The firelight glints off the rough edges and ridges of the stone, amplifying its natural beauty. I was foolish to think there was something dark hiding inside something so pure, so lovely. I pass the crystal across my body to my right hand.
It happens as soon as the stone touches the band of my ring. My body goes rigid as icy jets shoot through my right arm, straight at my heart.
The blinding white light and plunge into blackness pass in seconds, flooding my mind with an onslaught of images. The pictures flick past so quickly I can’t decipher them, but the accompanying emotions are unmistakable. Fear grips my heart, constricting my chest and making it difficult to draw breath. My body goes icy before heating to boiling—a simmering rage ready to explode. I don’t care who gets hurt—someone needs to pay for what’s happened. Everyone needs to pay. And I have the power to make them regret having been born. I will kill them all and feel no remorse. After all, if they were as strong as I, they could stop me. The fact they can’t means th
ey don’t really matter—
“Kristyl! Kristyl!”
Crystal’s voice comes to me as if from a great distance. My vision returns by degrees. Six sets of wide eyes stare in my direction. Fox’s body is coiled like he’s ready to leap to my side. The only thing keeping him from me is Crystal’s outstretched hand.
I blink heavily. “We can’t do this.”
Crystal holds her left hand out, opening and closing her fist. “Give it to me.”
I pull the stone toward my chest. “No. We can’t.” The emotions from my vision reverberate within me and I shiver. “There’s power inside this thing, all right, but it’s dark. We can’t anchor to it.”
She shakes her head, her fingertips stroking her chest where the shard of this stone she used to wear as a pendant rested. “No. We were supposed to find this crystal. It’s meant to be part of us.”
“What the hell?” Griffin calls. “After all the time we spent looking for this thing, there’s no way we’re not anchoring to it. Now give it to her.”
“I’m with Griffin,” Zane says. “Hand that thing to Crystal so we can finish this spell or I’ll come over there and make you hand it to her.”
Fox points at Zane, narrowing his eyes. “You even think about touching her and I’ll kick your ass, Zane.”
“Shut up,” Crystal snaps. When she turns back to me, her eyes are soft. “It’s okay. There’s nothing dark about the crystal. Of all people, I think I’d know.”
“No—no, you wouldn’t.” Is it possible she can’t feel the energy inside it because she’s not psychic? I squeeze my eyes closed. As much as I want to keep my visions a secret, I have to tell them. “I… I felt something when I held it in the basement—this overpowering jealousy and rage. And just now—when it touched my ring—I saw…” I shake my head, not wanting to describe the images that passed through my mind. “It’s dark, Crystal.”
“How do you know it’s not your ring that’s dark?” Lexie asks. “We’ve all held that stone and none of us felt anything bad.” She crosses her arms over her chest as the others murmur agreements. Her eyes narrow. “Unless… unless you’re not having any mystical feelings at all. That’s it, isn’t it? I bet you felt jealousy when you held the crystal—you were jealous because we’d all finally have the same kind of power that you have. Don’t pretend you don’t like being the best at magic. You’re afraid that once we anchor ourselves we’ll all be just as good as you—or better—and you won’t be special anymore.”
Wild Magic Page 6
