Or maybe I’d somehow conjured her up. I was a witch, after all.
You know that’s not possible, right? the voice said skeptically.
Of course I know that.
But the fact remained my best friend was half a world away from home, and somehow, this was on me. It had to be.
You also know not everything is about you? the voice added.
Maybe. But that didn’t mean I was wrong about this. Or that I wasn’t glad to see her. And it certainly didn’t stop me from flinging myself into the hallway and wrapping her in a giant, breath-stealing hug.
She stumbled backward with a surprised “oof” and a quick, awkward laugh. Eventually I let her go and stepped back, unable to stop the grin that swept my face from ear to ear.
Of the two of us, Zoe was usually the more emotional one—I’d once seen her burst into happy tears when the postman accidentally delivered someone else’s Sephora coupons to the Java Hut—but today her smile was tighter, more reserved, and I felt mine slip a little.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
“Yeah, of course.” I stepped out of the doorway and then closed and locked the door behind us. Instead of her usual uniform of a colorful summer dress and strappy sandals, she wore a gray pantsuit with sensible heels. Her gaze swept the room, nose wrinkling when she spotted a pile of rodent droppings in the corner I’d managed to miss until now. Great. I couldn’t unsee that.
Luckily, there were more important things to focus on. Like the way Zoe’s gaze snagged on the Grimoire, where I’d left it open on the table. Her eyes widened.
Curse it.
I stepped casually up to the table and closed the book. I hesitated then gathered it against my chest and immediately felt silly about how protective I was being. I mean, this was Zoe. Not that my magic cared one lick about that. It hummed under my skin, ready. Waiting. I urged it away, reminding it that Zoe was a friend and not a threat, but it wouldn’t budge. Which was all well and good until eventually all that humming would put my arms and legs to sleep, and I’d start stumbling into the furniture.
Zoe’s gaze stayed with the book, which didn’t exactly placate my magic or, if I was being honest, me. My arms tightened around the book. She didn’t ask about it, which I supposed was kind of weird, but then again, I hadn’t asked her why she was here. Deep down, I think we both already knew.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in training?” I asked.
She nodded. “Today was my third day, but instead I got called up for my first mission: to retrieve an old book from one of the CIA’s assets and deliver it to Director Abrams. Imagine my surprise when they told me I’d be picking the book up from you.”
There was a bitterness to the way she said you that told me we were not okay. I probably should have addressed that first, but I was stuck on something else she’d said.
“What’s an asset?”
“A person who provides information and assistance to the CIA’s operatives.”
I blinked.
After all the times I’d been shot at and chased and possessed and nearly blown up, that’s all I was to them? Not a spy, but an asset?
Why do you care? the voice said, sounding genuinely curious. I thought you didn’t want to be a spy.
I don’t, I replied automatically. But was that still true? I kept telling myself that this arrangement with the CIA was only temporary. That I was just filling in until I knew Alec was okay and the CIA found themselves a fancy new witch who knew eighty-three ways to kill a man with a twitch of her nose. Then I’d go back to working as a barista and eating as many Cheetos as I wanted without a lecture from Ryerson extoling the virtues of vegetables.
So how come that plan suddenly sounded so boring and lonely?
Because I was being ridiculous, that’s why. Sure, being a spy meant hanging out with certain people I didn’t despise nearly as much as I once did, but it was also dangerous. Stressful. Thankless. Important. Satisfying. Rewarding …
Oh, hex it.
I wanted to be a spy.
Perfect timing, too, seeing as how the CIA apparently didn’t think of me as one. And it probably wasn’t a great sign that they’d decided it was necessary to fly a three-day recruit across the world to babysit me, but whatever. I’d show them I was a good spy. And when we got back to Langley, I’d ask Director Abrams to make it permanent.
There. I had a plan. I liked plans.
The idea of it sent a thrill of excitement through me.
“I’m pretty sure being an asset means they don’t have to pay you,” Zoe added helpfully.
Son of a witch.
“Why did they send you?” I said. “I thought they were sending a guy.”
She shrugged. “I was told some techie named Dahlia thought it less likely you’d shoot the messenger if you knew her.”
“I wasn’t going to shoot anyone,” I muttered. “I don’t even have a gun.”
The skin between her eyebrows wrinkled. “How do you protect yourself without one?”
This was my chance to tell her everything. About my last mission. About this one. About the fact I was a witch. About Ryerson and how I’d thought we were okay, except he seemed to be avoiding me this mission. And about Alec and that hotter-than-hex kiss we’d shared that I couldn’t get out of my mind.
But something was wrong. Why would Dahlia tell me to expect a male agent and then send Zoe? Why all that stuff about the secret knock? I guess plans could change, and I’d already put away the radio. Dahlia had no way to contact me, unless I pulled it out and set it up again. But that wasn’t the only thing bothering me. Zoe was quiet, and she was never quiet.
“What’s wrong?” I said.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were working with the CIA?” she blurted, sounding hurt.
I grimaced. Right. That.
“I wanted to. Believe me, all I’ve wanted to do for the last week is talk to you about this. About everything. Especially since you told me you were accepted too. But it all just happened so fast, and there hasn’t been any time.”
“What about when I came to your apartment the other morning? You could have told me then.”
Sure, if Ryerson hadn’t been hiding in my bathroom at the time.
“I wanted to, but …” my voice trailed away. If I told her Ryerson was hiding in my apartment that day, would that just make things worse? Would it just be one more thing I’d kept from her? But then again, if I didn’t tell her that now, would that be one more thing I kept from her?
These circles you’re running in are making me dizzy, the voice grumped.
I rubbed my forehead. Ryerson was right—I should have just introduced them that morning. I should tell her the truth, about everything, right now. After all, she was here because of me. She deserved that much.
Does she? asked the voice skeptically. Who even is this person?
Zoe Lashley. My best friend. We used to work at the Java Hut together. Now she’s an agent too.
And now was my chance to tell Zoe the truth. I opened my mouth to do exactly that and then promptly closed it again, unsure where to start. Because telling her everything also meant explaining that I was a witch. I’d kept that secret my whole life, and now, well, I didn’t know where to start.
Needing something to focus on besides Zoe’s expression when she learned the truth, I moved to the window. On the other side of the grime-streaked glass, the world went about its day, unaware of how thoroughly I was about to upend my best friend’s world. Because learning that magic is real? That’s a weird day. Breaking the news required a delicate touch. But outside that window, everyone was just so … normal. A woman pushed a stroller across the street toward the park, where the wind tickled the treetops. Cars sped down the street, ignoring the potholes and road dips filled with rainwater that splashed onto the sidewalks in their wake. There was only one car parked on the road, notable only for its exceptional plainness. I probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all except it was exactly the sort of car Ryers
on liked to use when we traveled. Muted color. About five years old. No bumper stickers that might stick in someone’s memory.
My pulse quickened, and I strained to see into the car. A man sat in the driver’s seat, but one glance told me it wasn’t him. I couldn’t see his face, but the build was all wrong. Ryerson was tall and broad. This guy was short and thin. And sleeping, from the angle of his head against the headrest. Ryerson would never fall asleep on the job.
“I think your partner fell asleep on you,” I said with a nod out the window.
“He’s not my partner.” Something in her voice made me turn. Zoe’s expression had darkened, although underneath her anger she’d gone pale. “And he’s not sleeping.”
I frowned. “What do you mean he’s not …” My voice trailed away, and a bad feeling crept up my spine as I looked at him again. At the unnatural bend to his neck. At his utter stillness.
I whipped my attention back to Zoe. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything!” she said. “The team I came with, they spotted him. He was a foreign agent, Ainsley. He was going to steal the book from you. Probably kill you.”
Her eyes pleaded with me to believe her, but I was only half listening. My brain had stuck on the first part of her sentence.
“What team?”
“The CIA sent a team to retrieve the book. Me and two other agents. The others are waiting in the hall.”
She had the good grace to sound apologetic about not telling me earlier, but I was too busy thinking to be mad right now. None of this made any sense. Dahlia had said one agent, a guy, would come for the book. Sure, plans change, but the timing didn’t add up. Flying from Washington, DC to Africa took time. Like, a lot of it. At least twenty hours, if my own flight was any indication. Which meant Zoe and her team would have to have been recruited for this assignment well before I got off the train in Morocco. In fact, they would have been in the air before I’d even called Dahlia. So if Dahlia had told the CIA to send Zoe, why not tell me that? Why tell me she’d sent a single male operative and all that stuff about the coded knock?
Simple answer? She wouldn’t.
Alec’s warning rang in my ears, that there existed a shadow organization deep within the CIA who wanted nothing more than to get their hands on the Grimoire. To be careful who I trusted.
Surely he didn’t mean Zoe. How could he? She’d only been with the CIA for three days.
Unless … unless Zoe was a part of it and didn’t know it.
Oh, this was bad.
The voice snorted. Of course it’s bad. The CIA recruited two baristas from their coffee shop and nothing about that struck you as odd?
Well, it did now.
“I’m just going to call Dahlia and let her know you got here,” I said, stepping toward the closet and the radio tucked inside.
But Zoe stepped between me and the closet. “Come on, Ainsley, just give me the book. You can talk to the agents outside. They’ll explain everything.”
“Zoe, listen to me. I don’t think that man your team killed was a foreign agent.”
“What are you talking about? Of course he was.”
I shook my head. My magic, sensing my alarm, buzzed under my skin. “No. I think he was CIA.”
“That’s crazy. Why would the CIA kill their own guy?”
Excellent question. I swallowed hard. “Listen to me very carefully. I don’t think you’re working for the CIA right now. I think you’re working for a faction inside the CIA, a shadow organization, one that wants this book.” There. That didn’t sound crazy at all.
She raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing me. “You can’t be serious.”
“I know it sounds crazy. But there’s a lot you don’t know—”
And that was the exact wrong thing to say.
Zoe’s eyes narrowed. “I’m going to need that book now.”
“No.”
Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“I can’t give it to you. Come on, Zoe. Let me call Langley. If they say it’s all right, I promise I’ll give it to you.”
I was moving toward the closet and the radio inside it when Zoe said, “I’m not supposed to let you call anyone.”
She sounded a little scared. Like she was afraid I’d push this. And right now, I was standing in the way of her completing what she thought was her first mission. Of her career.
Her hand went to her hip and the gun strapped there. We both looked at it, like neither of us was quite sure what was happening.
“Are you really going to shoot me?” I said.
She sighed and pulled her hand off her gun. “Of course not. But I really do need that book. Come on, Ains—”
The front door burst open, and three guys with guns drawn spilled into the room.
I yelped and grabbed Zoe’s hand, pulling her behind me.
While the new guys trained their guns on me, Zoe stepped to my side. “Relax, Ainsley. That’s my team. They’re … holy shit.”
She wasn’t looking at the men with guns anymore. She was staring at my hands. Probably because they were glowing blue. Magic coursed through me, and I focused all of my attention on the men with their guns pointed at us. No, at me.
“Give us the b—” one of them said, a guy with thick, bushy eyebrows that had grown together over the bridge of his nose. But before he’d finished his sentence, I’d drawn a confundium spell and flicked it at them, whispering the invocation as it flew through the air and exploded in front of them in a spray of sparks and smoke.
“What the—” Zoe said.
I grabbed her wrist with one hand and the Grimoire with the other and ran for the window and the fire escape, while Agent Eyebrows and the others stared at each other in confusion.
“Where’s the grapefruit?” one of them asked.
“Your ears smell like cheese,” another one said appreciatively.
“Wait, stop! What did you do to them?” Zoe asked.
“Confundium spell,” I said, wrestling with the window lock. “It won’t last long. Come on, we need to—hey!”
Zoe grabbed the Grimoire and backed away from me, shaking her head.
“Come on, Zoe. Trust me. Give me the book.”
She shook her head a little wildly. The guys next to her were slowly coming out of it. Another thirty seconds and they’d be completely normal, and I’d be screwed.
“Zoe, don’t make me do this,” I pleaded.
“I can’t let you take it,” she said.
I was worried she’d say that. I sighed and then stepped into her, using a move Ryerson had taught me once. She was only three days into her training, and while she and I had taken self-defense classes before, she was rusty and untrained. My leg sweep was clumsy at best, but she went down.
“I’m sorry!” I said, and dropped to my knees next to her. But the cloudiness was clearing from the men’s eyes, and they were beginning to focus. On me.
I tried to grab Zoe, but she scrambled away from me and grabbed her gun from her waistband.
Shaking off my shock, I threw myself and the book onto the fire escape as a gunshot pinged off the window frame.
She’d shot at me. She’d actually shot at me.
I threw myself down the fire escape and into the street. They’d be down here soon. I needed an escape. My eyes found the sedan—the only car parked on the street. I ran to it and threw open the door.
“Sorry,” I said to the dead guy in the front seat as I hauled him out, checked his pulse—definitely dead—and threw myself in the car. The key was sitting in the cup holder. I hit the power button and tore off down the street, checking the rearview mirror and both side mirrors every block until I was miles away, and even then my pulse felt ready to leap out of my body.
Eventually, my heart slowed enough that it didn’t feel ready to beat out of my chest. I drove aimlessly, thinking. About Zoe and how I’d just left her back there. About the shadow organization and how exactly they’d known where to find the Grimoire. About
Ryerson and Alec and how I hadn’t heard from them. Granted, they didn’t really have a way to contact me, and maybe Dahlia hadn’t told them where I was. But I’d still feel better if I knew they were okay.
Everything was falling apart.
I was lost in thought, driving aimlessly through the city, when a phone rang and I jumped, almost veering the car into the curb. I corrected and pulled over then found a cell phone stuck between the seats. It must have fallen out of the dead agent’s pocket, maybe when I pulled him out of the car.
A wave of guilt swept through me for leaving him on the side of the road like that, and then the phone started ringing again. I answered it.
“Hello?”
A pause, and then Dahlia’s voice said, “Ainsley? Why are you answering Smith’s phone?”
“Smith is dead.”
A longer pause this time, and then she swore. “Tell me.”
So I did. From the agents appearing at my door, to looking out the window and seeing Agent Smith “asleep” in his car, to figuring it out and barely escaping, to swiping Smith’s car to escape. She asked me to describe the attackers, and I did. I thought about leaving Zoe out of it, but in the end, I’d need the CIA’s help to get her out of this mess, and they would figure it out eventually anyway. They were the CIA, after all.
I didn’t mention my suspicions that the others were CIA, too, but it turns out, I didn’t have to. Dahlia wasn’t stupid, and she knew the only way they would have found the safe house was if someone had tipped them off.
“Maybe it’s best if you don’t go to any of our safe houses, at least until we figure out what’s going on,” she said when I was done, confirming my suspicions.
“What about the book?” I said.
“I’ll talk to the director, but I doubt he’ll want to send someone else to pick it up. At least, not until we know what’s going on at our end and that we can guarantee it won’t fall into the wrong hands.”
My thoughts exactly. Except that meant …
“You’ll just have to hang onto it for now and get it back to the states safely.”
You Only Spell Twic Page 20
