by Scott Rhine
25. Unicorns
Wednesday morning, I ran to Luca in the driveway, dropped the handle on my roller suitcase, and wrapped her in a huge hug. “Goodness, I missed you.”
She looked pale but otherwise normal. “What’s with the Sherpa pack?”
“Ah. Books. The Cow has me reading like crazy before she’ll tutor me in warding.”
“How does all that fit in your locker?”
I winced. “It doesn’t. Yesterday, I had to leave it in the hall by my locker. No one touched it though.”
“Honor code?”
“Fear,” I said, hopping in the back. “They heard that good stuff happens to people who help me and worry that plagues or something will strike them if they rob an alleged saint.”
“Saint?” Luca asked, climbing in the other side.
“Okay. I need you and your father not to freak out.” I explained the current theory and how I interacted with angels but couldn’t do normal magic yet. “The estimate on my Book’s restoration is in, by the way, and the insurance on our Holy Oak house should just cover it.” The Vatican specialists couldn’t guarantee that it would ever be useful for spell-casting, though.
“I figured it was something like that,” said Vincenzo, who had been eavesdropping.
Luca did the antilistening charm, which made her gasp from exertion. “That’s awful. It’s like getting polio for witches.”
“You’re such a good friend. I feel terrible about what happened to you.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Actually… the Cow explained the magical mechanisms to me. I accidentally pulled energy from you to keep the circle lit. I’m so sorry I drained you. I didn’t mean to.”
Her jaw dropped. “Only an obscenely powerful witch can manage that.”
“Or an extremely stupid one. I’m not allowed to do any magic until I complete the safety course.” I tapped the suitcase on the floor between us.
“What does she teach you in your sessions?”
“Yesterday, we practiced purifying implements that are used in drawing a ward. Today will be how to handle items that have been exposed to corruption. Do you forgive me? I’d never hurt you intentionally.”
She grabbed my chin. “Listen to me closely. If you hadn’t held your circle against that hell mouth, I’d be dead. The whole campus might have been swallowed. Isa, I’d stand at your side any time—we’re sisters.”
“If I could heal you, I would,” I whispered. “All I can seem to be able to do is make people confess or cry.”
“Now that sounds interesting.”
“I can’t talk about it, but even Matriarch Cotton spilled her guts to me. I made Bradstreet cry. Everyone’s afraid of me. I’d understand if you wanted to switch tables.”
Laughing, Luca said, “Oh, no. The entertainment will be my repayment.”
“There’s one thing I don’t understand. Why hasn’t my gift affected you? Why aren’t you afraid?”
“I have no filter anyway. Nothing to hide, I guess.”
“All the better to have you as a friend.” I wished she’d receive the blessing part, too. Her father got credit for the last time she helped me. What have the spirits given her other than free school?
“What are you planning for chapel today?”
“Nothing, I hope. I just want to be normal for a while.”
She snorted at that. “I doubt you could be boring if you tried.”
“I need to behave myself for a while so Dad stops taking Mad Cow on lunch dates for advice. He calls her Emma now. Which reminds me—can I use your workout bag in the garage?”
“Sure. Why bother, though? They couldn’t let someone as valuable as you out in the field.”
“They sent Mom out.”
“As a medic for victims and to keep the Response Team on an even keel. I’ve read some of her incident reports.”
This made me jealous. “What did Mom do for them?”
“Nothing dangerous. They protected Anne Hutchinson’s journal like the Shroud of Turin. Dr. Hutchinson could pull information out of survivors, treat them for Corruption, and spot bystanders who’d been influenced by the taint. Her instincts kept them from being led into an ambush in Sarajevo.”
And enabled her to figure out who the Advent Killer was. “If my mom had worked out on the bag, she might still be alive. Don’t tell anyone, but a cop or a witch killed her. Since I had her phone for a while, I want to be ready if the traitor comes for me.”
“Hey, what’s mine is yours.”
Maybe when Luca has her energy back, she can open the final mandala for me. “Thanks. Is there anything I can do for you in exchange?”
She glanced away shyly. “You’re going to think it’s stupid.”
“No. Ask.”
“My gran-gran retired from the Council years ago but lives by Lake Placid. I’d like her to meet you.”
“Of course. Why?”
“You’ve met angels, and she’s really old. Talking to you might put her mind at ease about… you know.”
“Sure. Have your father give mine the address, and we’ll pop in while we’re out delivering meals on Saturday.”
Her smile was beautiful, making her look like a girl who went to dances rather than armories. “You’re a freaking unicorn, Isa.”
I thought about my pillow pet, embarrassed. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Not on you.”
****
Mad Cow’s big idea for helping me filter out nonverbals was to fit me with a pair of bifocals. They only provided clear vision in a very narrow band down the center, with no peripheral vision. Whenever I wanted to look at something, I had to turn my head like an owl. Not only did the glasses give me a headache, but I bumped into people, lockers, and walls. The Harvard gang couldn’t stop giggling and made a video of me fumbling down the hall. After a few class periods of this insanity, I staggered into the headmistress’s office. “This is a joke. I can’t wear these in PE, or I’ll fall down a staircase and die.”
Mrs. Bradstreet had two girls in the room, each with guilty expressions. Crossing her arms, she said, “You’re interrupting, but as long as you’re here, which of these girls posted a cartoon of me with a dragon’s head?”
I struggled to focus on the fidgeting third-graders. “No idea, ma’am. They both laughed at it, though.”
“Hmph. I rest my case. The treatment is effective and shall continue until you refine other means to address the issue.”
“But—”
She waved me away. “You may get aspirin from the nurse’s office and take off your glasses for gym. The price for wasting my time when Ms. Creutzfeldt has the matter in hand is an essay on the most unusual method of death for a saint. I’d suggest Fox’s Book of Martyrs as a prime source. Would you care to suggest a punishment topic for these two hooligans?”
I paused for a moment. “If we fail to show respect to women in authority, what will life be like when we get jobs?”
“Oh, I like that one. Dismissed, all of you.”
I smacked into the doorframe on the way out, but it only bruised my ego.
Cheating by searching for an appropriate saint online first, I chose Cassian, a schoolmaster who had been sentenced to die at the hands of his students. Because their only weapons were the tiny blades used to sharpen their quills, it had literally been a death by a thousand cuts. Nobody would ever break me.
However, I spent chapel time lying down in the nurse’s office, trying not to lose my lunch from the headache that the stupid glasses caused.
26. Circles
At lunch on Thursday, Lilith learned over to whisper to me while Blaise stood in line for a colorful fruit cup, with bright cantaloupe accented with blueberries. “She still has a disgusting aura.”
Luca dipped a tortilla chip in cheese sauce. “Meh. At least she’s cheerful.” She crunched loudly.
“That helps, doesn’t it?” I asked. “Maybe the effects of all that depression take time to wear off.”
Sighin
g, Lilith said, “I wouldn’t count on it, but I’ll be friendly for your sake. Heck, I tolerated Salma Harvard for years, and she didn’t even try to be nice.”
“Thank you. Love is choice that we make every day,” I said, quoting my mom.
When Blaise returned to the table, she snickered at me. “I can’t get used to you in those ridiculous lens.”
I pushed the glasses up on my nose. Today had been going a little better. No headache. “I like to think of them as my secret identity, like Superman becoming Clark Kent.” Yes, I read my brother’s comic books.
“Change that to Supergirl,” said Luca, swiping one of my apple slices to scrape the last of the liquid cheese out of the plastic tub. “Or Bradstreet will make you write another essay on inherent self-sabotage by women who follow male role models.”
“Bite me.”
The headmistress had forced me to do further research on the anatomical and historical facts of the torture known as “death by a thousand cuts”—with citations.
Lilith pointed to the apple slice. “You just changed food genres from Mexican to Scandinavian. You know, fondue?”
“Fondue is so much fun,” said Luca. “We should all do it some night.”
“It’s a breeding pit for germs,” replied Blaise. “How can you let someone eat off your plate?”
I held up my hand to calm her. “It’s safe. I said grace over the food.”
“And that magically gets rid of germs?”
“It does for me.” When everyone’s eyes grew bigger, I let them off the hook. “Just messing with you.”
Luca gave me a good-natured slug in the shoulder.
I couldn’t even see her move with my stupid glasses. “Nice. Pick on the blind girl.”
Blaise leaned close to whisper, “So what’s happening with the Cow?”
“Oh. Today, we’re going to practice drawing protective circles quickly without flaws. Even hairline gaps in the chalk line could let in an attack. Did you know that people draw them at arm’s length so that they at have room to stand inside safely?”
“I meant between her and your dad,” Blaise said.
Luca smirked. “He calls her Emma and buys her lunch in exchange for advice about his little problem child.”
“Stop it,” I said.
“Emma and Ishmael sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!”
“He’s not kissing her!” I swished my arm in anger, and Blaise’s fruit cup hit the ground and shattered.
“I wasn’t done with that,” Blaise said in her old glum tone.
“Sorry. I’ll clean that up and pay for a new one.”
Blaise scooped up what she could. The lone smashed strawberry stood out like a bloodstain at the heart of the pattern. “Don’t worry. The lady behind the counter saw, and she’s already on her way over. I wish people liked me the way they do you, Isa.”
“You’ll find your niche. Be patient.”
By then, Miss Bradstreet had strolled over from the overseers’ table. “Something wrong, Miss Hutchinson?”
“My brother just got engaged to my best friend,” I said to cover. “It’s a little weird. I mean, they’re inviting my grandmother over from Lebanon to meet Dina. Grandma Morris is going to take my bedroom and make it all smelly while I sleep on the sofa. Worse, I’m going to have to bend over backwards for a whole week not to do anything witchy. Why can’t she just Skype like other people?”
“Call Dr. Freya if you need help processing, but don’t throw magical temper tantrums in my school.”
“I egged her on,” admitted Luca.
Bradstreet leveled her most disappointed glare at me. “People with great power must cultivate iron control. No excuses.”
“You’re right, ma’am,” I said with my head lowered. “It won’t happen again.”
The headmistress leaned into my ear so only I could hear. “If you don’t stop encouraging the student body to refer to Ms. Creutzfeldt as ‘the Cow,’ I’m going to find a very creative way to punish you. She’s very sensitive about her weight. Do I make myself clear?”
Oh, crap. I could sense that someone had told her about the nickname, and she had been listening for it. “Yes, ma’am.”
****
At the tutoring period, I knocked on the locked door of the teacher’s lounge. I worried that Bradstreet could open her door at any time and catch me violating the sanctum. Miss C took a moment to answer it. From her cold demeanor, I didn’t need magic to tell me she’d heard about the nickname. I lowered my head. “I’m sorry for making fun of you. You really are my favorite teacher.”
She glared at me overtop of her glasses. “You could’ve fooled me.”
“I’m just jealous. With work and commuting to take care of Zak, Dad has spent more time with you lately than me.”
She ushered me and my suitcase inside, closing the door behind me for privacy. “Maybe I just needed him more this week.”
“What?” I whipped off my glasses to get some hint of what she meant.
“He didn’t tell you? Of course, he didn’t. He’s a gentleman. When we drove into work together this morning—”
This sounded even worse. I started to breathe faster.
Noticing my panic, she put a hand on me. “Oh, lord, not like that.” She giggled. “I had a traffic incident a few days ago. The other person was speeding and driving without a license, yet I’m somehow seventy percent to blame because I hit them. Your father has been giving me a ride while my van is in the shop.”
The way her voice softened in that instant reminded me of Dina talking about Zak. This isn’t fair. I can’t lose everyone at once.
This time, she didn’t notice my panic. “Ishmael was so proud of how Zak brought the Hamadis’ import shop into the twenty-first century. Your brother proved to them how profitable online sales could be by posting a few items on eBay. When those sold in hours, the family gave him permission to open an online storefront. Today, he’s adding their entire inventory database to the list of things people can order.”
Why hadn’t anyone told me any of this? I hadn’t been able to speak to my brother since the event. Dina had been avoiding me. Every detail Miss C added just hurt me more. “Mrs. Hamadi loves how Zak can reach things on the high shelves that her husband can’t.”
I glanced at my watch. “I was really hoping we’d have time to draw protective circles.”
My rapid shift to business jarred her. She pulled the room’s thick curtains so no one else could see into the room. We didn’t want underclassmen copying the moves she would be teaching. “Certainly. Did you bring the chalk we discussed?”
I unzipped the front pouch and pulled out a single stick of white high-end summoning chalk my aunt had loaned me. It had a greasepaint feel to it so it could coat a rough surface evenly without leaving gaps. I’d need to buy my own this weekend.
Miss C used a telescoping metal chalk holder to draw her circle on the floor without leaning over. “Uniformity of the circle is critical because any indentation could be a weak point in higher dimensions.”
Crouched on my knees, I etched a quarter of the arc at a time, struggling to make them symmetric.
Miss C made a face at my lopsided attempt. “Beginners who can’t manage balanced circles reinforce them with the easier triangle symbol. This spreads the attack over more surface area, but there’s no substitute for craftsmanship.”
Without thinking, I said, “If Dad were here, he’d invent a way to do this right.”
She smiled. “Yeah, he would.”
That warm tone was just like having his photo on her phone’s screen saver. I snapped the piece of chalk in my hand. She was genuinely falling for him. Did he even know?
I tried to focus on precision.
To test the quality of my work, Miss C didn’t zap me with a big attack. Instead, she had me light a blessed candle at the center of my circle using repeated gestures. The measure of my success would be how long it took for her to blow it out.
I could hear the
disappointment when she crushed my first attempt. “Again. Faster. When spirits attack, you can’t spend five minutes getting your makeup on.”
Technically, the circle had been laid out in a minute, but lighting the candle had taken forever.
By the fourth attempt, the chalk stub was short, and my fuse was shorter. “I don’t have enough to complete another circle.”
She crossed her arms. “If a demon shows up, you can’t offer excuses. What would you do in a real situation? You can use anything in the room.”
Spotting her bag atop the mail cubbyholes gave me an idea. “May I borrow something from your purse?”
“I did say anything in the room. So, sure.”
I found a new stick of bright red lipstick call “Passion Fruit.” Hussy. It went on the floor easier than then chalk. When this circle held against her casual assault, I laughed with pride. “Now what?”
“You scrub it off. We can’t leave evidence behind for normals to see.” She gave me directions to the janitor’s closet.
“Is this some weird Cinderella fantasy of yours?”
Coolly, Miss C replied, “One of the concerns your father had this morning was your browser history—something about how to get pregnant from a corpse.”
“It wasn’t porn.”
“No. It was magic. If he could figure that out, then anyone else checking your history will know that you dabble. You risk us all with your carelessness.”
“Ah. Good point. I’ll bring that one up in Spy 101 class this afternoon.” I might also change my watch’s command prompt to Voyeur. Had the watch been reporting my discussions at the Rejects’ table?
She continued her lecture. “I had to assure him that pregnancy was not one of our tutoring subjects. Cleaning up your mess will help you remember to cover your tracks.”
The witches were like the ancient Spartans. They didn’t care what crime a soldier committed, as long as he didn’t get caught. “But I can reuse this circle tomorrow. It’s perfect.”
She raised her arms over her head with her wrists joined, and then she broke them apart in a new gesture. The wind snuffed out my candle. “You didn’t keep it charged. Our discussion distracted you.”
