Mark of the Wicked

by Georgia Bowers

  Matilda’s mind reached back to the day before he left, to the last time he took her to her horseback-riding lesson.

  “I used to hear them arguing about her coven all the time, then the last time I saw him he made me promise never to join one.” Matilda sighed. Oliver looked at her, his face serious. “So now with my seventeenth birthday coming up, my mom is on me about joining a coven.”

  “Which is the last thing you want to do.”

  “Exactly.”

  “When’s your birthday?”

  “Next week,” said Matilda.

  “Well, happy birthday for next week,” said Oliver with a smile.

  “Thank you,” said Matilda, blushing.

  “Do you still see your dad much?”

  Matilda shook her head. “Not really. We FaceTime and message, but it’s difficult for him to get away and I doubt he wants to risk seeing my mom. He’s coming to see me next weekend, though.” Oliver glanced at her and smiled. “But enough about my parents. Tell me about your mom and dad, and your sister.”

  “Not much to tell really, not compared to your family history, anyway,” said Oliver.

  “What do they do?”

  “They owned a company selling gym equipment but sold it because it was taking up too much of their time. Now Dad’s working at the athletic center, Mom doesn’t work at all, and like I said, my sister is a pain in my ass.” Oliver glanced at Matilda. “I wonder what they’d say if they knew I was driving around with a witch in my car.”

  Matilda smiled, her shoulders relaxing as they made a silent agreement not to talk about parents anymore.

  “Technically, two witches.”

  Oliver smiled at her, then pointed ahead as he slowed the car down.

  “Sean’s house is up there, but I’ll park back here otherwise I’ll be designated driver for everyone tonight.” He switched off the engine and looked at Matilda. “Ready?”

  “Ready,” said Matilda, catching a glimpse of herself in the car mirror and wondering who on earth this very happy-looking person was.

  CHAPTER NINE

  They followed the thump of music and the hyena laughter until they found themselves standing in front of a detached Victorian house with skeletons hanging out of the upstairs windows and smashed pumpkins on the doorstep. Sean’s parents were obviously fans of the legend of Ivy. Someone had spent a lot of time making a life-size model, complete with broomstick and long green cloak, and twisted her up in the ivy that grew over the front wall.

  There was movement behind every window and already a few bodies passed out on the front lawn. Oliver put his hands in his pockets, smiled at Matilda, then started down the path to the open front door. Matilda swallowed as she watched him get closer to the party, her feet rooted to the ground. Oliver looked up and turned around.

  “Are you coming?” he said, opening his arms and nodding toward the house. “All the good Jell-O shots will be gone.”

  Matilda stared at the house, the smell of smoke and spirits curdling her stomach and the sound of the music pressing down on her eardrums. She folded her arms and shook her head as Oliver walked back toward her.

  “I was kidding about the shots. Literally have no idea what the fuss is about.” Oliver tilted his head and frowned. “What’s going on? Don’t you want to go in?”

  Matilda shook her head. “I…”

  Oliver’s shoulders dropped. “I knew taking you to a party was a stupid idea. Do you want to go somewhere else?”

  Matilda bit her lip, wishing that being able to magic herself into thin air was really a thing.

  “I’ve never been to a party before, okay?” she blurted, regretting the words as soon as they left her lips. “I’m this freak-of-nature witch who can only make friends if she tricks people into drinking a potion or by lighting a candle for them on a full moon, but I’ve never stayed friends long enough to get a party invite. Go on, you can laugh at me, I know you want to.”

  “Seriously?” said Oliver. Matilda turned back to the car, but Oliver grabbed her elbow and gently pulled her around. He looked over his shoulder, then turned back to her. “We don’t have to go in. It’s probably not even that good.” They both looked at the house as a long woo-hoo floated out of the windows. “But if we do go in, I won’t leave your side, so you don’t have to be scared.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “I know, I mean, I don’t know,” said Oliver, sighing as he pushed the hair from his forehead. “Matilda, just tell me what to say so this doesn’t end right here on the sidewalk.”

  “So what doesn’t end?” said Matilda.

  “Me and you.” The October air warmed up between them as Oliver gave her a crooked smile. “So, are we going in?”

  Matilda nodded. I can do this, she thought as she started toward the house. It’s just like being at school with these idiots. Something brushed against her hand and her stomach fizzed like a bath bomb when she glanced down and saw Oliver’s hand closing around her own.

  “Ready?” said Oliver as they got to the front door.

  “Ready.”

  Oliver squeezed her hand and the party pulled them into its noisy, smelly soul. People yelled into one another’s ears and nodded along to conversations there was no way they could follow over the music. A boy from Matilda’s class demanded everyone watch as he threw himself forward to perform the worm, only to end up a sweaty heap at their feet. They stepped over him as people in pointy witch’s hats or long green cloaks shouted Oliver’s name, holding out their hand for a slap, and some girls dressed as inappropriately sexy Ivys nudged one another and whispered as they watched Oliver navigate Matilda through the party.

  “What’s with the cloaks and hats?” shouted Oliver over the music. “They look like hobbits?”

  “It’s because of the Witching Well Festival,” said Matilda, looking back to give the Ivy girls one last disapproving look.

  Oliver nodded, and they wove through the revelers into the kitchen, where every surface was occupied by glass bottles and red plastic cups. More guys greeted Oliver and looked Matilda up and down before giving him a nod.

  “How do you know so many people,” said Matilda over the loud music.

  “Easy for guys,” said Oliver. “Join the soccer team and you have a ready-made group of friends.”

  “You make it sound so simple,” said Matilda under her breath.

  “Do you want a beer or a vodka or something?” shouted Oliver.

  Matilda shrugged. “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

  “I’m not drinking, unless you want to walk home later.” Oliver pulled a Coke out of a bucket of ice. “This is me for the rest of the night.”

  “Can I get one?”

  Oliver nodded. “Of course.”

  Matilda’s shoulders sagged as Oliver let go of her hand and dug around for another can of Coke for her. She looked at the boys in the kitchen and wondered if any of them knew who she was.

  She certainly knew who they were.

  The boy on the left, Joe, was the first boy to ever kiss her when she was fourteen. She’d smudged a love balm on his wrist while he sat next to her in French, then that night he’d appeared at her house and asked her to go to the park with him. They sat opposite each other on the merry-go-round and when she leaned forward, he kissed her right on the lips. As soon as they parted, the spell was broken, and he’d climbed off the merry-go-round and run all the way home. She wouldn’t usually get a scar from doing a love spell, but Joe had a girlfriend who was crushed when she found out, so because Matilda had caused her emotional pain, even indirectly, she’d ended up with her name on her face.

  The boy next to him, Laurence, used to be one of those kids at the top of every class, always had his hand up and took part in every extracurricular activity there was before Joe gave him his first joint. Matilda sat next to him at lunch one Monday and sprinkled a powder onto his pepperoni pizza, and by the end of the week he’d completed all her homework and delivered it to her every night by s
even p.m.

  The last, but certainly not least, was a boy called Drew, and if Matilda ran a finger over the left side of her forehead she could feel his name etched there in her skin. She looked at him leaning against the counter, his right hand crinkled with silver scars from a freak accident with a Bunsen burner three years ago, after he’d sent a photoshopped picture of her to all the boys in their class.

  Whenever she passed these guys in the halls, she’d feel a smug, gleeful satisfaction that they had no idea they’d been on the receiving end of her self-serving magic. But seeing them all in the same room together with Oliver made her feel uneasy, exposed, like they could all see what was on her face.

  “I … Do you know where the bathroom is?” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

  “Use the one in Sean’s parents’ room,” said Oliver, opening his drink. “It’s probably not caked in vomit and Red Bull yet.”

  “That’s strictly out-of-bounds, dude,” said Laurence, his eyelids heavy.

  “How come?” asked Oliver.

  “She’s in there, you know … she … with the bees.”

  “Bees?” asked Oliver, glancing at Matilda.

  “Lay off the weed for two minutes and let some oxygen get to your brain, man,” said Joe, slinging his arm around Laurence, then looking at Oliver. “He means Ashley; she’s out of the hospital. Insisted on coming to the party, not for the attention or anything.”

  Matilda’s mouth went dry. She didn’t know Ashley had ended up in the hospital after what happened, figuring the school would probably just let her rest in the nurse’s office or send her home. She told herself not to worry, that Ashley had probably spent her hospital stay taking selfies to post on Instagram, but a nugget of guilt rapidly took up residence in Matilda’s head. Annoyed with herself, she turned to the kitchen door.

  “Do you need help finding another bathroom?” asked Oliver.

  “No, I’ll be fine,” said Matilda, having no intention of actually going to the bathroom now that she knew Ashley was in Sean’s parents’ room.

  She squeezed through the partygoers and made her way to the stairs, looking over her shoulder at Oliver, who carried on talking to the guys in the kitchen. As she turned back, she bumped into someone.

  “Sorry,” said Matilda, looking up and sighing when she realized who it was. “Erin. Didn’t see you there.”

  “Watch it,” said Erin, her eyes flashing at Matilda. “Like you haven’t done enough.”

  “What does that mean? What the hell could I have possibly done to you?”

  “Trying to push me over as well.”

  “Push you over?” Matilda blinked. It’d been years since they were friends, but she didn’t remember Erin ever being this aggressive. Forceful, yes, but not aggressive. “What are you talking about, Erin?”

  “Oh, lucky me, she remembers my name.”

  “Of course I remember your name,” said Matilda, trying to squeeze past Erin but stepping back again when she wouldn’t move. “I’m not in the mood for this. Can I just get past?”

  Erin folded her arms and took a step back, her eyebrows in an angry line across her forehead. Matilda looked her up and down as she forced her way past and headed up the stairs. When she reached the top, she glanced down and shook her head; Erin was still giving her a death stare.

  “Freak,” whispered Matilda, then turned to find Ashley.

  There had been a time, not even that long ago, that the thought of creeping around in Sean’s house would have filled Matilda with such excitement that she would have exploded. It was rare that Matilda actually felt attracted to someone, because the boys in her class were mostly repellent, but there was just something about Sean. He was gorgeous, that went without saying, but his face was open and honest, and he actually made eye contact when he spoke to you instead of checking his phone every six seconds. Not that they’d really spoken much since their history assignment, but when they did, he looked at Matilda properly.

  She’d tried a few spells to get his attention and draw him to her, but nothing had worked. Magic was like that sometimes, or he might have performed a ritual that repelled her magic without realizing it (as was common with superstitious boys who played a lot of sports; wearing their lucky socks protected them from more than just a nasty foul).

  Matilda looked at an old school photo of Sean on the wall. The anger that had bubbled from her soul when she watched the attraction between Ashley and Sean had consumed her, and now, post-Oliver and a new attraction, a little scratch of guilt was itching at her skin. It was ironic that one of the reasons she’d made Ashley her friend was because of her friendship with Sean, but Ashley having a thing for him was the very reason Matilda hurt her. Now that Oliver was in the picture, she thought that maybe sometimes people just connect, almost like magic.

  “Where are you, queen bee?” whispered Matilda as she opened the bedroom door, morbidly curious to see what sort of shape Ashley was in after her bee trick.

  The room was still and Matilda slid in, gasping as the darkness in the bedroom crept toward her, dragging familiar shadows across her eyelids as she slumped onto the high pile carpet.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Matilda? Matilda?” Matilda opened her eyes, and Oliver let out a long breath. “Oh, thank God. You okay?”

  Matilda blinked and looked at a floral lampshade she didn’t recognize. She pulled herself up onto her elbows and frowned. Her chest tightened as she realized she’d blacked out again, and now Oliver had found her looking in goodness only knew what state. Heat rushed up her neck as she averted her eyes from his and rubbed her forehead.

  “I passed out, didn’t I?” she said, her voice shaking.

  “I think so. You were gone for ages so I came looking for you and found you like this. Are you okay? Is your head okay?”

  “I’m fine. This is so embarrassing,” said Matilda. “Why does this keep happening to me?”

  “Keep happening? You mean this has happened before?” said Oliver. Matilda sat up and put her face in her hands. “Let’s get you some fresh air.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re the color of milk, and I doubt Joe’s fumes wafting up the stairs are doing you any good.” Oliver stood up and held out his hand. “Come on.”

  * * *

  “See?” said Oliver, opening his arms wide as they walked toward a giant of a tree, away from the small (but definitely disastrous) bonfire that a group of kids were daring one another to jump over and smash pumpkins into. “Outside is good.”

  Matilda took a deep breath, letting the air whistle up her nose and clear out her lungs. She felt like her insides had shrunk and the smell of magic that followed her around had faded with her blackout, but being under the inky night sky was rejuvenating. Nanna May always used to tell her that their family was more comfortable at nighttime, the moon and stars sharing their ancient secrets as owls and bats swooped overhead in protective circles.

  Her grandmother, as usual, was right, and Matilda felt like she was in control again.

  “Better?” asked Oliver.

  “Better,” she said, looking over her shoulder at the house as it throbbed with excitement. “Is it bad that I like it more out here? Shouldn’t I be doing Jäger bombs and flashing everyone? Isn’t that what people do at parties?”

  Oliver put his hands up.

  “I’m not going to stop you, if that’s what you want to do.”

  Matilda pushed Oliver, her hand lingering on his arm a little longer than it needed to. She looked up at him. He was obscured by shadows, but she already knew every inch of his face, his stubble, his dimples, and didn’t need the light to tell her how beautiful he was. He looked toward the tree and nodded.

  “Shall we?”

  “A tree swing? Really?”

  Oliver laughed. “I didn’t know it was here, I swear.”

  “I suppose you’re going to offer me your jacket next?”

  “Do you know what? I am actually going to do that.” He p
ulled his coat off and put it around Matilda’s shoulders. “I admit it all. I made you faint just so I could get you outside under the stars and on this incredibly romantic swing and give you my jacket.”

  “I knew it,” said Matilda, grabbing the rope as she sat down on the weathered wood that had probably been Sean’s prized possession for a time.

  Oliver grabbed the other rope and lowered himself next to Matilda, her breath warming in her chest as the side of his leg pressed against hers. She was thankful for the blanket of night so Oliver couldn’t see how red her cheeks were.

  “This was such a bad idea,” said Oliver.

  “What do you mean?” said Matilda, her heart sinking.

  “Bringing you to a party. What was I thinking?” Matilda looked at her hands in her lap. “No, no, I don’t mean … you know that I’m glad we’re here, just I wish it was somewhere a bit more private.”

  “This is kind of private.”

  Oliver’s dimples appeared as he smiled at Matilda.

  “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  The wind whipped around the tree branches, and crisp leaves floated onto the grass. Matilda pulled Oliver’s coat around her shoulders, then froze as she felt him lean toward her and put his arm around her to hold on to the other rope.

  He blinked, his eyelids heavy as he looked at her and he bit his bottom lip.

  “Do you know, I’m feeling a lot of pressure at this precise moment,” he said.

  Matilda swallowed.

  “Yeah?”

  “Uh-huh,” said Oliver, lifting his hand up to Matilda’s cheek.

  “No!” said Matilda, pulling away from him violently.

  Oliver looked surprised, his eyes perfect circles.

  “Shit, what did I do? I’m sorry, I…”

  Matilda shook her head, her heart panicking against her chest as she watched the confusion ripple over his face.

  “Nothing, it’s not you. I … I…”

  Matilda felt Oliver’s warm hand over hers, and she looked down as his fingers closed around it.