“How can you cook something that smells so delicious and not want to share it with your favorite granddaughter?” Nanna May rolled her eyes, then pointed at the cuckoo clock. She took a pinch of ground cumin from a pestle and mortar and sprinkled it in, too. “I know I’m your only granddaughter, but you know what I mean. When’s it going to be ready, then? You’ve been cooking it forever.”
A soft padding sound whispered from the back door and a fat, bark-colored toad waddled across the threshold of the kitchen. Matilda felt her grandmother’s shoulders tense, and she blinked at the brazen amphibian crawling over the tiles like he’d been invited for breakfast. Nanna May pulled herself up from the stool and reached for the broomstick leaning by the fireplace.
Matilda sighed and picked up her schoolbag. Next, Nanna May would sweep the toad back into the cold, then spend the rest of the morning picking the herbs and spices she needed to make talismans they’d all have to put under their pillows.
“Good luck, Nanna May,” said Matilda, leaving the old lady gently sweeping the toad out of the door, along with any bad luck it had brought with it.
CHAPTER TWO
A green-and-orange banner flapped high above the tables in the cafeteria, black swirled writing reminding students of the Witching Well Festival at the end of the month. Matilda frowned at the banner as she carried her tray across the room. The town started stringing shop fronts with orange bunting and dressing in dark green cloaks as soon as October blew in after the dregs of September summer. It was the only time Gravewick was mildly interesting, bringing people from miles around to take part in the Halloween festival, so there was no chance it wasn’t already on people’s social radars.
Matilda waited at the end of the table she’d been sitting at for the last few weeks, its occupants turning to look down their nose at her as she smiled at them. They all turned as Ashley Abercrombie sashayed into the cafeteria, her name rippling across the tables in the hushed way it always did. She joined her group at the table in the middle where Matilda was sitting, the perfect stage for her adoring audience, and flicked her blond hair over her shoulder. She surveyed her subjects at the table, her eyes resting on Matilda.
“Why are you sitting at my table, exactly?”
Just to make sure my spell is deserved, thought Matilda. She shrugged and offered Ashley a smile.
“Just having lunch.”
“Sorry, are we still friends?” said Ashley, folding her arms. “That was so last week, before you stopped being supportive; I don’t need that kind of negativity around me.”
Matilda remembered watching Ashley twirl around and around in a new jacket, demanding Matilda tell her whether it was making the right statement. Matilda, who had decided that even a little conjured popularity and companionship wasn’t worth the mind-numbing tediousness of hanging around Insta-ready Ashley, told her that it did, if the statement was I have no taste.
“I’m over you now,” said Ashley, looking Matilda up and down. “Maybe you should go and sit with your friends over there.”
Matilda looked at the table Ashley was pointing at. “There’s nobody there?”
“Exactly,” sneered Ashley, putting her hands out so her minions could tap her palms.
Matilda heaved a sigh for the audience and sat at the table alone just as Sean walked into the room toward Ashley and her disciples. A toothpaste-ad smile gleamed from Sean’s perfect jaw, punctuated by two dimples as he slapped the outstretched palms of his soccer teammates and made his way to Ashley, who was pseudo-ignoring him.
Matilda had always assumed Sean was like the rest of the idiot soccer players at her school—bravado and cruelty tied up with a ribbon of cheekbones and swagger. But they’d been paired up on a history assignment the year before, and after spending a few weeks working so closely, Matilda realized she’d been wrong about him.
Instead of kicking back and letting Matilda do all the work, he’d been really proactive about the project they were doing, which was, ironically, on the Salem witch trials. Sean had shown a real interest in the subject and divided up the research between them, then recounted some of the shocking things he’d found with wide eyes. One day, he even broke away from a group of his friends to give Matilda his own copy of one of the books he’d found on the trials. Matilda blushed as he made her promise to read it and let him know what she thought.
For those few weeks, she felt like she was the most important thing in Sean’s world. Something was happening to Matilda’s insides as she and Sean worked next to each other in the library or Sean hurried after her in the cafeteria, gesticulating as he recounted what he’d read about Samuel Parris or Bridget Bishop. When Sean had turned around in class and high-fived her with one hand while holding up their A-grade assignment in the other, she realized she’d fallen for him. No magic, no potions, just some other ingredient Matilda had never understood.
Why? thought Matilda, her stomach bubbling with anger as she watched Sean heading for Ashley. Why her? But Matilda knew why. She knew that like was attracted to like, and Sean, with his perfect, just, everything, was the king and Ashley was the queen.
The queen bee.
Matilda lifted her hand to her mouth, a blond strand of Ashley’s hair curled around her forefinger. Her father had taught her sleight of hand and the art of distraction, which, he had told her long ago, were necessary when you lived by incantations and spells. Matilda could snatch a strand of hair or whip off a charm bracelet better than the Artful Dodger. With her hand still in front of her mouth, Matilda breathed deeply until everyone fell away from the cafeteria, leaving Ashley sitting in her spotlight.
“Climb from within; my pain is yours,” she whispered. The scene came back to life, and Matilda let out a whistle of breath as she rearranged the contents of her tray, glancing up at Ashley every few seconds. Ashley was front and center at the table, her followers hanging on to her every vapid word as she used her own brand of magic on them. I love your hair like that; do mine for me? Or I love your winged eyeliner; do my makeup for me? And I love your jacket; lend it to me? At first it felt like you were the center of her world, but you soon realized everything she said and did was for her own benefit.
Having Ashley as a friend had been a good move to start with. It was a thrill when she looped her arm through Matilda’s and shared all the latest hookups as they strutted down the halls together. When Matilda watched Ashley rehearse for the school play or run around the soccer field in center midfield, she’d felt proud to be in her circle, even if she’d put herself there using magic.
As the weeks went by, though, Matilda grew tired of following Ashley around. The girl was an overachiever and insisted on dragging Matilda along to every extracurricular activity she’d signed up for, from philosophy club to musical theater. Rather than wanting a friend, all Ashley wanted was more audience members in the Ashley Adoration Society. Matilda was going to end the enchantment with a snuff of a flame, but then Ashley had gone and turned her attention to the one person Matilda felt something real for.
Sean.
Ashley kept looking over her shoulder at Sean before turning away, leaving him shaking his head and biting down a smile. Their blatant attraction made Matilda’s skin crawl with rage until Ashley cleared her throat and held her manicured fingers in front of her lips. She frowned, then turned to her neighbor and opened her mouth to say something, but started coughing like a middle-aged mechanic after a pack of Marlboros.
Here it comes, thought Matilda. The first time she’d used magic to hurt someone she’d been a little nervous, but now all she felt was a rush of excitement that her words and actions could have a devastating effect on someone else. Once she’d mastered the spell to hide her scars, there was nothing in the world that wasn’t there for her to take for herself.
Lottie tried to steer her down a path of natural magic with no consequences or pain; potions for predictions, spells for healing, incantations for protection, even talismans to ward off the common cold. What Matilda was do
ing now was way more powerful, but she could hear her mother inside her head. Use your magic to hurt another, and you’ll know that pain threefold with each letter scored into your skin. Although Matilda could hide her scars, that part was true—she could still feel the pain of each name hidden on her face and carried that pain around day and night.
“Ash? You okay, babe?” one of Ashley’s friends asked as she patted her on the back.
Ashley thrust her chair back, her face as pale as the moon, her wide eyes boring into her friend’s. The coughing stopped, and her chin wobbled as she sucked in some air.
“I … I … there’s something … something … UUUUH!!!”
Ashley’s hand slammed against the table, crashing the cutlery and plates together. The screech of chairs scraping against the floor pierced through the chatter in the cafeteria, sending all that was normal exiting through the doors as everyone around Ashley backed away from her. She clutched her throat and wretched over the table, her bulging eyes pink and glassy with panic.
A smile twitched at Matilda’s lips as she threw fries into her mouth like she was eating popcorn. Seeing Ashley, who was normally so poised and superior, hunched over the table, confused and scared, made Matilda’s dark little heart sing with joy.
Sean watched Ashley, his mouth turned downward like he was looking at a slug writhing under a shower of salt. Ashley’s body twisted against the table, her face as red as a stoplight, and she retched over and over, clawing her throat until the saliva-soaked thing that was choking her freed itself and flew from her mouth.
A bee. The queen bee.
Nobody moved until a couple of the girls at Ashley’s table jumped up and ran out, Matilda guessed to either throw up themselves or get a teacher. Everyone else had frozen in their seats, staring with wide eyes and stomach-curdling disgust as Ashley wiped away the saliva dripping from her chin.
She lifted a shuddering hand to her swelling lips and blinked at her audience. “What … what the f…?” she gasped, tears clinging to her long lashes. “What’s happening to … UUUHH!”
Ashley’s white knuckles gripped the edge of the table, her body doubling over as she heaved again, splattering more bees over the lunchtime leftovers. She blinked at the wriggling insects crawling over one another, then her eyes rolled up into her head and she slumped to the floor. The cafeteria gasped, then chairs scraped back and Ashley’s remaining disciples ran to her side, while others pulled out their phones to start the gossip that would accompany the photos being taken by people who stared, openmouthed.
Matilda wiped the grease from her hands and spun around in her chair. She picked up her bag and walked with a spring in her step in the opposite direction from Ashley and her insect vomit. The spring became a skip and then a jog as pain burned up from her soul, heading for her face, and she grabbed the doorway and swung herself into the corridor, bumping into bodies and tripping over feet.
“Move! Get out of my way!” she shouted, angry that she hadn’t headed to the bathroom sooner.
Matilda squeezed her eyes closed as the first letter tore into her skin. A for Ashley. She gritted her teeth with each stroke of the letter, then clenched her fists as the agony of the letter S started. Matilda could feel her skin splitting open as she weaved between the oncoming traffic, desperate to lock herself in a cubicle before the rest of the letters could form, but she slammed into a lanky senior as he turned from his locker.
“Whoa, sorry,” he said as they stepped side to side to get past each other.
“Out of my way,” growled Matilda, the letter H cutting into her skin and ridding her of all patience.
“I am trying to get out of your way. Okay, stop,” said Lanky Boy. He put his hands on her shoulders and she looked up, surprised at the uninvited touch. He was hunched over, used to lowering himself down to talk to normal-sized people, and his bouncy hair was brushed forward and coordinated perfectly with his honey-brown eyes. “I’ll go this way, and you go … shit. I mean, you’re bleeding. Do you know you’re bleeding? Like, really bleeding, a lot.”
Matilda’s hand flew up to her cheek. The magic that concealed her scars couldn’t hide the letters when they first appeared in her skin. As with everything else in magic, it was all about balance and consequence, and that was the price she paid for the gift. Others might not know what she’d done, but she would feel the pain of it.
“Yeah, I…,” Matilda said, her eyes darting around. She spotted the girls’ bathroom and looked at the boy, the color draining from his face as he stared at the blood on her cheek. “I’m okay, I…”
Lanky Boy took a step back and closed his eyes, his face the same color as the gray walls of Gravewick Academy. He breathed deeply, then opened his eyes again, letting them rest on Matilda’s face. After a second, he shook his head and put his hand over his mouth.
“Sorry!” he called over his shoulder as he ran into the boys’ bathroom.
Matilda bit the inside of her cheek as another letter appeared, and she rushed into the bathroom herself, her hand over her cheek in case any of the mirror-worshipping girls were in their usual spot, contouring nonexistent cheekbones and smaller noses. Her shoulders relaxed as the door closed behind her; the entire room was vacant.
Matilda lowered her hand and surveyed the damage as the rest of the letters claimed her face. Her winged eyeliner was still flawless and her curly black hair flowed over her shoulders, but the flickering light and the blood pouring from the fresh letters on her face made her look like an extra from a horror movie.
The harsh bathroom light blinked in Morse code, telling her I know what’s on your face.
“No, you don’t. Nobody knows,” she said to the light. “Nobody except me.”
Was it worth it? asked the light.
“Yes,” she said. “She deserved it.”
For once in her life, Ashley would know what it was like to feel out of control, to not fix a problem by clicking her fingers and having someone else sort it out for her. She would know that bad things happen to bad people and how it feels to have everyone recoil from her instead of worshipping her for a change.
Matilda grabbed a pile of paper towels and soaked them in cold water. She wiped the evidence away, watching her blood swirl down the drain. But what was left on her face would take more than paper and water to get rid of. Retrieving a small green bottle from her bag, Matilda held it up to the light; there wasn’t much left, she’d have to brew a fresh batch before next time.
The contents of the bottle, made up of dandelion leaf, goldenrod, peppermint, and lavender, plus a drop of Matilda’s blood and a snip of her hair, was the same brown color as most potions, but it was the most powerful and life-changing Matilda had ever used. She looked over her shoulder again, then unscrewed the bottle and took three small, sour sips, then turned back to the mirror. Focusing on her reflection, Matilda licked her finger and trailed the tip of it across Ashley’s name, then put her hands over her face and whispered the charm like she had done so many times before.
“What is here I cannot see, what is here I can feel. Take this name and triple my pain so others may not know.”
When Matilda looked up, there was a different reflection staring back at her, one whose secrets were hidden away beneath perfectly smooth skin. She felt a tickle in her throat and, remembering her visit to the hive earlier, she coughed a few times and caught the soggy queen bee in the palm of her other hand.
“Thank you,” she said, letting it crawl onto the open window.
Matilda stepped away from the mirror, ready to tolerate the halls of Gravewick Academy once again. But when she lifted her hand to push the door open, she felt as though a weight was pulling her down and a cloud of smoke swirled in front of her eyes, consuming the light around her. She fell onto the white tiles of the bathroom floor and deep into the sudden darkness inside her head.
CHAPTER THREE
“Hello? Hello?”
Matilda blinked and recoiled, her body shockingly tense after being subme
rged in pitch-black. It wasn’t the voice that had woken her, but the palm that slapped her cheek, and she twitched, ready for another one as she pulled herself up onto her elbows.
“Who’s slapping me?” she demanded, the fog lifting from her eyes as she squinted at the person kneeling over her. “How am I on the floor?”
“Oh, good.”
“Good?” repeated Matilda incredulously.
“Yes, I mean, good that you’re okay. I thought you were unconscious or dead or—”
Matilda put her hand up and the girl raised her eyebrows and stopped talking.
“Erin,” sighed Matilda. Of all the people to slap her awake, it had to be Erin, ex-best friend and relentless interrogator.
Erin sat back on her heels and frowned. “Yes, Erin. Not exactly your fave, but would you rather I’d left you on the floor?”
Matilda glared at Erin, a mess of freckles and red curls hovering just above her.
“Was the slap really necessary?”
“Like I said, I thought you might be dead. I was just about to call someone, but you woke up. Are you okay? What happened? Did you hit your head?”
Matilda rubbed her eyes. That was it; Ashley, then the blood, then the mirror, then the floor. She’d blacked out.
“How long was I out?” asked Matilda, her body feeling as though it were transparent, a part of her disappearing.
Erin shrugged. “Since I came in? Two, three minutes maybe? I thought it was the same as what happened to Ashley just now.” Matilda started getting up, ignoring Erin’s outstretched hand. “Did you see? She coughed up a bee, and then she collapsed. Mrs. Murphy and Mr. Gill are still trying to clear everyone out of the cafeteria before the whole thing ends up on YouTube. Is she okay?”
“Is who okay?” asked Matilda, brushing off her tights. She stood up straight, turning in front of the mirror to check if there was toilet paper stuck to the elbow of her maroon-and-gold school blazer.
Mark of the Wicked Page 2
