Wild Magic

by Madeline Freeman

  Crystal snorts, pulling her hand away. “Talk about what? As far as I’m concerned, we don’t have anything left to say to each other.”

  Tucker sneers. “I was about done with you anyway.” He turns and starts toward the side of the hall where I’m standing. People in the center start shifting, making a gap for him to pass through.

  When he’s only a few steps away from me, Crystal launches her final barb. “Not sure how we lasted this long anyway. I guess now you’ll have to go back to getting girls drunk and taking advantage of them. That’s typically how you get your action, isn’t it?”

  If he had just kept walking, her comment would’ve been written off as just another bitchy thing Crystal Jamison had to say. But there’s a slight hesitation in Tucker’s next step—just enough for everyone in the vicinity to notice, and a chorus of laughter swells around us. Tucker doesn’t turn to snipe back—the damage has already been done—and when he shoves past me, the emotions radiating off him take my breath away. There’s anger, yes, and a twinge of embarrassment, but also sadness and shame.

  By the time the sensations ebb from my system, the hallway is in motion again. I swing by my locker before heading downstairs, my mind toying with the idea of trying to convince the secretary not to call home about my absence sixth hour. Is that something I can do as a psychic? Persuade people to do or not do something? Not keen on sitting through a lecture from my mom about skipping class, I figure it won’t hurt to try. As I walk toward the office, I tap out a text to Fox, letting him know I’ll meet him at his truck.

  I’m halfway across the foyer when Crystal Taylor—I can’t bring myself to think of her as Mrs. Cole—walks out of the front office. Her hair is pulled into a sleek chignon at the back of her neck and she wears a charcoal pencil skirt with a red button-down blouse. It’s still strange to see her as an adult, because the image that always comes to mind when I think of her is as a teenager—just older than me—trying to cast a spell on the night she was supposed to die.

  A guy in khakis and a polo follows her out and she smiles, holding a hand out for him to shake. It’s not until he turns that I recognize him.

  “Seth?” I cross the remaining distance separating us. Crystal Taylor smiles politely and nods, excusing herself back into the office. “What are you doing here?”

  Seth offers a broad smile when he sees me, pulling me in for a quick hug. Apparently this is how we’ll greet each other from now on, and I can’t say I dislike it. It’s sweet. “I was just talking to your principal about perhaps doing some volunteer work around the school. I mentioned to Jodi that I’ve always been interested in teaching, and she suggested I explore the possibility. I’m actually heading back to the shop now. Do you need a ride? You’re working today, right?”

  I grin. “No, thanks. My—” I stop short, the word boyfriend on my lips. It’s technically true, but I’ve never referred to Fox that way. I roll my shoulders. “Fox usually gives me a ride. Since when do you have a car, anyway?”

  “Jodi let me borrow hers.” He glances at the clock protruding from the wall above us. “I should be getting back. I’ll see you there soon.”

  The rapid clicking of high heels against the stone floor echoes through the sparsely populated foyer and before Seth has taken more than a few steps, Crystal Jamison is blocking his progress, her face flushed from rushing to his side. Bridget and Lexie follow at a distance, eying Seth with interest.

  “Hi again,” Crystal says, flashing her best smile.

  A crease forms between Seth’s eyebrows and I snort, covering my mouth in an attempt to pass it off as a cough when Lexie shoots me the evil eye. After a beat, Seth nods with recognition. “You’re Kristyl’s friend—from the coffee shop.”

  She grazes his arm with her fingertips. “That’s right. I’m Crystal, too.”

  Seth nods, shifting away from her touch by a degree. “It seems to be a popular name here. I’ve just spoken with your principal, Crystal Cole—”

  “Oh, she’s my aunt,” Crystal says quickly. Lexie clears her throat and Crystal adds, “And Lexie’s aunt, too. We’re cousins.”

  Seth nods again, his eyes straying to the clock again. “It was a pleasure to see you again, but I should really be getting back to work. Perhaps our paths will cross again sometime.” He offers her a tight-lipped smile before waving at me and heading out the front door.

  Crystal immediately groups up with Bridget and Lexie, probably to discuss the encounter. Rolling my eyes, I pass by them, heading out to the parking lot. It’s not until I’m to the stairwell that the mingled scent of leather and cigarettes reaches my nose. Tucker. He leans in a doorway, his eyes locked on Crystal. When I'm even with him, he turns his attention to me.

  “I hope he’s worth it,” he sneers.

  I don’t respond. Instead, I start off at a jog toward the parking lot.

  ***

  An hour later, I’m restocking teas at the shop. My skin crawls whenever I think about Tucker, so I do my best not to think of him. Yeah, what Crystal did was pretty shitty, but I don’t have it in me to feel bad for Tucker. Maybe I’m doing to him what Owen and West are doing to me—holding something against him that he doesn’t remember doing. But something tells me that given the opportunity, Tucker would try to attack me again.

  Seth walks into my aisle and leans against the shelves. “What’s bothering you?”

  I place the last bag on the shelf before closing the cabinet beneath. “I’m fine.” Not making eye contact, I brush past him into the main area of the shop.

  He follows. “It’s about your friend, isn’t it? The one so eager to talk to me?”

  “I think eager is an understatement.”

  Seth’s mouth twitches. “She is… a bit forward. More so than I’m accustomed to.”

  I study his face. “You’re not… interested in her, are you?”

  His eyes drop, the corners of his mouth turning down. “I’m afraid my heart belongs to another. It always will.”

  It’s a sweet and romantic notion, but the sadness in his tone doesn’t fit. Before I’m fully conscious of doing it, I’ve pressed forward into his mind and the echo of his thoughts fills my head. It’s an emotion that clarifies first—pain—and I pull back, closing my eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry—”

  “Bess. She died.” His voice is tight, quiet. He opens his mouth again but closes it quickly, shaking his head. After a beat, he forces a smile. “But that is, perhaps, a story for another day. Now. About your friend. Crystal, correct?”

  I sigh, casting a glance toward the break room. Seth is still technically in training, and Jodi apparently doesn’t trust the two of us alone in the store yet, so she’s here for backup. So far, I’ve avoided bringing up circle drama around her or my mom since I’m not sure how either of them will respond—or how much they know. The look on Seth’s face tells me he doesn’t plan on dropping the subject. “You remember the night of the storm? When I mentioned my circle?”

  He nods. “Ah. I take it things haven’t improved? They’re still upset with you.”

  “Yeah. The other day, Crystal basically told me I was out of the circle—all because I was trying to protect them.” I run my hands through my hair. “Maybe I was wrong. Right after they anchored, they were using magic like crazy, but this week they’ve settled down—except Zane.” I roll my eyes. “We still haven’t gotten through a lesson in math.”

  His brow furrows. “Are you saying you no longer want to separate them from the crystal?”

  I throw up my hands. “I don’t know. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I need to accept that it happened and move on.”

  An expression flits across Seth’s face—a slight tightening around the eyes, a pursing of the mouth. “You have to do what you think is best.”

  A light bulb bursts above our heads and I jump, squealing. Jodi runs into the room, eyes wide, but by the time she gets to us, Seth and I are both laughing.

  “It’s nothing,” I say, pointing up. “The light scar
ed me, that’s all.”

  Jodi presses her hand to her chest. “Please don’t make that sound unless you’re in mortal danger. Give me a heart attack.” She points at Seth. “You, come with me. The extra light bulbs are up on a high shelf.”

  “Of course they are,” I murmur as Seth follows her into the back room. I grab the broom and dustpan from behind the register and start sweeping up the broken glass.

  The bells above the door tinkle and Crystal and Lexie enter the shop. They turn immediately toward the shelves holding different stones, but their muffled giggles reveal their true reason for stopping by. I don’t bother concealing an eye roll as I go back to my task.

  By the time Seth returns, I’ve swept all the shards. When he climbs the step stool to replace the bulb, Crystal stares unabashedly. Once he descends and throws away the broken bulb, she and Lexie cross to him.

  “Hi, Seth,” Crystal says brightly, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  His eyes dart to me before he gives a polite nod. “Hello, Crystal. And, Lexie, yes? What brings you to in today? Can I help you find something?”

  “Actually,” Crystal says, drawing out the word, “we were hoping we could help you. Kristyl told me you’re interested in genealogy and you’re related to her. I just happen to know a ton about the founding families of this town, and if Kristyl’s from one of those families, you might be, too.” She edges closer to him, smiling so broadly her cheeks must be hurting by now.

  I’m surprised when Lexie turns, catching my gaze, her eyebrow raised. I’m right there with her: Crystal’s behavior is bizarre. She’s always so cool and collected. Even when I caught her with Tucker, she was calm and unruffled. But now she’s acting strange. She’s acting like I imagine I did while under the influence of Fox’s attraction charm in the last reality. But Seth can’t be casting a spell like that, can he? I take inventory of my own feelings, but I’m not drawn toward him. Perhaps it doesn’t work on someone who’s blood related? But it’s not affecting Lexie either. I sniff, trying to detect a hint of lavender, but the nearby herbs make it impossible to tell whether he’s got a sprig on him. No, maybe it’s not an attraction spell. Besides, he just finished telling me his heart belongs to his dead girlfriend. This must be something else entirely.

  Seth shifts backward a few inches. “As a matter of fact, I am from a founding family.”

  Crystal claps her hands together. “Great. I’ve got tons of information about them, and all kinds of stories about the town. If you like, I could tell you about it. Say, after you get off work? There’s a restaurant down the street we could go to. It’s cozy.”

  I roll my eyes. Can she be more transparent? And could it be any clearer that Seth is uncomfortable with her advances? A tinge of color rises in his cheeks. “Maybe another time,” he says, retreating toward the register. “Perhaps we can bring Krissa and Lexie along.”

  Crystal’s smile falters, but she regroups quickly, following him. Motion on the street catches my eye and I turn to the window. Across the street, Fox’s languid movements draw my gaze and a smile curls my lips. He’s a welcome distraction from the scene in the shop. I tamp down a swell of guilt as I head toward the front door. Besides Lexie and Crystal, there are no customers, and Jodi’s in the back room to help if anyone does come in. Crystal can only throw herself at Seth for so long before she either gets the hint or runs out of material. Before I can talk myself out of it, I push open the door and check both ways before heading across the street.

  Fox is nearly to the coffee shop when I reach him, tapping his shoulder. He turns, his harassed look melting into a smile. His hands cup my cheeks as he swoops down for a kiss.

  For the first time, I kiss him back.

  “Aren’t you working?”

  I slip my hand into his. “I am. But Crystal and Lexie came in.” I roll my eyes for effect. “Does it make me a bad person because I left Seth alone in there with her?”

  He shakes his head. “Nah. He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. Are you on break? We could go grab a slice real quick, if you want.”

  Although his gaze doesn’t leave mine, he’s distracted—I can sense it radiating off him. I reach forward with my psychic abilities—remembering the tips Bria and Felix gave when we met—and the echo of Fox’s thoughts clarifies within seconds. “You’re meeting Zane?”

  His stormy eyes widen with surprise. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

  My stomach drops. I don’t know why I’m surprised he would ask such a simple question. If I were in his shoes, I certainly would. I open my mouth to explain it away—lucky guess or something like that—when the roar of a motorcycle’s engine draws my attention to the road. Zane pulls his bike into a spot across the road, just past Jodi’s shop. He pulls off his helmet and waves before dismounting.

  “What are you guys up to?” I tug at his hand, hoping the question distracts Fox from the one I didn’t answer.

  The corners of his mouth quirk upward. “We’re gonna head out to his grandma’s place and do some target practice. And before you complain about what a guy thing that is to do, please remember that one of the reasons you like me so much is because I’m a guy, so you can’t blame me for acting like one.”

  I can’t help smiling. “I definitely appreciate that you’re a guy. And it sounds fun. But if you’re gonna go—I dunno—shoot things or whatever, what are you doing down here?”

  “Last time we went out, we may have accidentally burned our target.”

  “Accidentally?”

  He shrugs. “Well, maybe it wasn’t an accident.”

  A horn cuts through the air and I turn toward the source of the sound. Zane is facing a blue sedan, his hands slammed down on the hood. The driver gesticulates wildly behind the wheel.

  “I’m walking here!” Zane yells. “You better watch yourself, man!”

  The driver, a mid-thirties man with a goatee, rolls down his window. “Damn kid! You’re gonna get yourself killed not watching where you’re going! I should’ve just hit you—teach you a lesson!”

  Zane bangs on the hood of the car and flips the driver off before continuing across the street at a jog.

  Fox laughs as he approaches. “Dude, you ass! Did you even look before you crossed in front of that guy?”

  Zane shrugs as he comes to a stop in front of us. “No. Why should I? It’s that guy who should watch himself.” He turns his attention back to the sedan, which has resumed its course down the street. He narrows his eyes at it rolls past us, a smile curling the edges of his lips.

  Smoke begins emanating from beneath the hood. I look from Zane to Fox, whose face is painted with amusement. Zane is doing something to the man’s car. I grab his arm and jerk him. “Zane, knock it off.”

  He barely glances in my direction. “Why? The guy’s a dick. He totally deserves it.”

  The car slows to a stop and the man rolls down his window and pokes his head out to get a better look at the situation.

  “He’s a dick?” I ask, tugging on his arm again. “Zane, you’re a dick. The road’s for cars, not for people. It’s not his fault he was driving. Now, knock it off.”

  With a sigh, Zane fixes his gaze on me. “Fine. I’m stopping. Buzz kill.”

  Across the street, smoke still pours from under the car’s hood. The driver pops the hood and gets out of the car.

  “I thought you were stopping,” I say. A sinking feeling creeps through my stomach.

  “I did,” Zane says, annoyed.

  There’s too much smoke for the fire to be out. Fox’s face says he’s noticed the same thing. Something bad is about to happen, and that man is far too close to his car for my comfort.

  “Get back!” I yell, starting toward the man as he raises the hood. I get no more than a few feet before flames shoot up out of the engine, making the driver jump back, covering his face with his arms.

  Fox’s arms close around my middle and he pulls me backward, but I struggle against him, looking toward the car, toward the driver. I don�
��t take in a breath until I’m satisfied he’s unharmed, several feet from his car. I reach for Zane and punch him in the shoulder. “Put it out, Zane. I thought you said you stopped.”

  But the look on Zane’s face isn’t encouraging. His eyes are wide and they’re darting all over the place. He’s not in control of the fire anymore. He really did think he stopped it earlier. I pull on Fox’s sleeve. “Put it out. Zane can’t do it.”

  Fox gives a heavy sigh and closes his eyes. I watch the car, but the flames don’t die down. On the contrary, they leap higher.

  “Fox.” I point toward the car. “Fox, it’s not working.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know... I can’t...”

  Panic flares. The fire has taken on a life of its own—just like the storm Crystal, Bridget, and Lexie started. The magic in the crystal is too much for them to handle.

  What happens if the flames make contact with the gas tank? I’ve seen enough movies to imagine a huge explosion. Would it be big enough to damage the stores on the block? Could a fire like that hurt someone? Seth and Jodi are in the shop, only a few doors down from where the car stopped. I need to warn them. I start across the street, but Fox’s arms, which had loosened around my waist, tighten again, pulling me against his chest.

  “Let me go! I have to warn Jodi—”

  The door to the antique store two doors down from Jodi’s opens and a balding man in his late fifties runs out, a fire extinguisher in his hands. He aims the nozzle at the engine and shoots a steady stream of white smoke until the flames disappear.

  Relief swells in my chest and I take a deep breath for the first time in what feels like hours. Turning, I punch Zane in the arm, harder this time than before.

  “Hey, what’s that for?” he asks, rubbing where I made contact.

  “You just lit that guy’s car on fire and you’re asking me why I’m punching you?” I wind up to punch again, but Fox catches my hand.

  Zane snorts, all concern from moments before evaporating. “Dude had it coming. He shouldn’t’ve messed with me.”