Spell Fire (The Teen Wytche Saga)

by Ariella Moon

  The wind chimes over the register clanged as we entered the store. For once there were a few people milling about. I hoped they weren't all board members.

  "Thanks for lunch." Jett threw me a wary, sideways glance.

  Find a black hole. "An Avalon-Bennett always pays her debts." I bared my teeth in a fake smile.

  Get a grip, Ains. I sidled past him and retrieved my backpack from beneath the register. Laden with homework and humiliation, I avoided eye contact and threaded my way to the back. I had almost reached the book area when I spied a pair of munchkin-size feet sticking out from under the lavender-draped display table. As I neared, the feet, encased in ragged lace anklets and red, glittery Dorothy shoes, clicked together.

  Isis, the seat-kicker from the plane. What was she doing here? Aside from a few children's books, wands, and the fairy display she hid under, there wasn't much in the store to attract young children. Where was her mother?

  I scanned the people milling about the displays and book aisles. A teen couple sat on the floor, their bare knees touching through the rips in their jeans. They studied an oversized book, astrology maybe. An older woman in the Wicca section sniffed an incense stick. A chunky twenty-something in a low-cut peasant blouse and a long, too-tight skirt, flirted with Jett while she pretended to examine the jewelry display. Not a push-up bra or bleached blonde in sight. Isis's mother must be lurking in the bathroom or in one of the tarot reading rooms.

  This is why I didn't read my gloom and doom almanac. It probably said something like: Welcome to Hell. Nothing will go right today.

  Indecision paralyzed me. Hating myself for being über-responsible, I crouched down and said, "Isis."

  She scuffled her feet under the table, hiding like a puppy caught with a stolen sneaker. A minute later, her head popped out from under the table drape. Her blue eyes widened when she saw me.

  "I didn't do anything," she said, scrambling to her feet. Her grubby fingers sparkled with fine glitter, and a silver comet of the stuff was streaked across her right cheek. She probably had one of our fairy dust jars stashed beneath the table and maybe a wand as well, the little thief.

  "Where's your mother?"

  "She dropped me off. My brother is supposed to watch me."

  A familiar pressure nudged between my shoulder blades. Dragon energy tingled down my arms. The spicy incense smells and cloying collision of candle odors gave way to the crisp, pure scent of deep-water lakes and forbidding mountain summits. My face warmed. I didn't dare glance up at the mural.

  I cleared my throat. "Is your brother in the store?"

  Isis nodded. "You're glowing. Like an angel."

  "I walked too fast."

  Isis tilted her head and stared at me. Her disbelieving expression told me she had an excellent crap detector. I shouldn't have been surprised. Look who she lived with.

  "I have to go," I said. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

  Isis twirled one of her curly blond locks around her forefinger. "I'm reading."

  "Under the table? How can you see?"

  She crawled back under the table and held up the drape with one hand while she used her other hand to press the button on a pink plastic wand. "They light up."

  I wondered how many wands would be returned because she had drained the batteries. "Why don't you read out here where your brother can see you?"

  "He's busy."

  I glanced at the teen couple. The girl studied the oversized book. The boy was definitely busy — caressing the girl's arm and nuzzling her neck.

  "Peek out once in a while so he knows where you are."

  "Okay."

  My eyes sought out Jett. He showed the goddess wannabe a silver necklace. You can have him, sister.

  Sparks of dragon energy flared around me as I headed toward the mystery school. I sensed Isis's gaze on my back. My efforts to flee inconspicuously were ruined by the loud slap, slap, slap of my flip-flops. I approached the unisex bathroom, intent on washing Jett, Isis, and a meteor shower of humiliation and hurt from my hands. The doorknob was nearly in my grasp when the dragon energy swept me into the hall. Both reading room doors were closed. Signs hung on the doorknobs read, Quiet, please. Session in progress.

  You'd think they were doing brain surgery. Still, I kicked off my flip-flops and carried them. My bare feet made contact with the cheap wool carpet and the soles of my feet started to itch.

  The dragon energy receded as I opened the mural door and hurled myself into the rainbow rays slicing through the stained glass.

  "Here she is. Everyone, this is my niece, Ainslie. She plans to be an astrophysicist."

  The glass table had been dragged to the center of the room. Aunt Terra sat at one end. I was surprised to see Thor in the group. How did someone barely older than me get on the board?

  Thor must have read my mind, or more probably my expression, because his lips curved into a bemused smile. A blush exploded like fireworks across my cheeks.

  Hazel, who had appraised me with flinty eyes before assuming a dazed, airy-fairy expression, sat between Thor and Cerelia. The end chair was vacant. Probably saved for Uncle Esmun. Two people with their backs to me twisted in their chairs in greeting. I recognized both from the dragon shaman class. The grizzled alientologist peered at me over his black-rimmed reading glasses. The spikey-haired, grandmotherly woman to his right said, "Hi, kiddo."

  "Hey." My gaze swept their faces. So these are the guiding forces behind Woo-Woo U.

  "How long have you wanted be an astrophysicist?" the alientologist asked.

  "Always," I answered. "Who wouldn't want to study the universe?"

  His expression brightened and he nodded.

  The spikey-haired older woman said, "Terra said you're from Lamorinda. Do you know my granddaughter, Evie O'Reilly? She's a freshman at Jefferson High."

  Panic seized me. Evie would have been a year behind me at middle school. She'd know. "I…I don't think I've met her. But I go to the Athenian Academy."

  "Oh. Too bad." Her fingers worried over the webbed strap connected to a tote on the table in front of her. I had carried enough backpacks to recognize the outline of a large book beneath the black nylon.

  I shifted my focus to Aunt Terra. "Sorry to interrupt. Would it be okay if I used the office to do my homework?"

  "Oh dear," Aunt Terra said. "We received a shipment yesterday and there are boxes piled everywhere. You can't even reach the desk."

  This was so not my day.

  I'm not sure if my sudden shoulder slump or the tears threatening to cascade down my cheeks clued Aunt Terra I had reached my breaking point. Maybe it was my aura. Either way, she said, "You are welcome to join us."

  "I don't want to intrude. Would it be all right if I sat in the corner and worked?"

  "I'll get you a chair." Thor started to rise. He didn't seem to realize how handsome he was, which made him even more appealing.

  "No, no. I love sitting on the floor."

  Thor sat back down. I wondered vaguely if he liked Gong Li movies.

  I found a patch of sunlight where I could sit with my back against the wall and pulled out The Scarlet Letter. I kept my head down while Uncle Esmun arrived and took his seat. Years before Sophia's disappearance and my descent into the rabbit hole, I had sat in on a few of Dad's business meetings. I knew the protocol. Be quiet and inconspicuous. Don't interrupt the adults; they have important business matters to discuss. Only these adults were discussing the tarot cards they had drawn from a deck in the center of the table.

  I tried to concentrate on Hawthorne's book, on Hester's vengeful husband who'd practiced medicine under an assumed name. But Hazel was telling the rest of the group she had just returned from Cornwall, England and had brought each of them a gift. I wondered what it could be. Seashells? Photos of quaint cottages?

  "I have a pixie for each of you."

  Right. Like you could get those past customs.

  "How nice of you, Hazel," Aunt Terra said.

 
; I thought back to what I knew about pixies. Weren't they supposed to be a) extremely troublesome and b) not real?

  Hazel sashayed up to each Board member, starting with Cerelia, and acted like she was putting a pixie in their hands or on their shoulder. As she progressed around the table, some members oohed and aahed as if she was a three-year-old showing off a crayon drawing. When she approached Evie's grandmother, the tote vibrated, rattling the glass table. Hazel faltered, her expression uncertain. She dropped back, and the rattling stopped. Brimstone smells hissed through the closed zipper. Cerelia shrank back.

  Evie's grandmother pointed a warning finger at the tote. "Stop it. Don't be rude."

  My jaw dropped. Thor glanced at me, then flicked his gaze back to the tote. It stopped emitting smoke.

  Uncle Esmun rubbed his nose. Hazel's head wobbled as if she were figuring out her next course of action. She still cupped her hand as if she carried an invisible pixie.

  Hello! Did you not notice the real magical object in the room?

  Seemingly unable to drop the pretense, Hazel advanced toward the alientologist. He ignored her and scribbled in his little notebook. Thor politely rebuffed her. Both rose at least twenty degrees on my Guy Approval Meter.

  I checked my watch. The meeting had started forty minutes ago. Nothing had been accomplished. No one had addressed the tote situation. My face warmed again. I shifted position. Instead of sitting against the wall with my legs straight in front of me, I sat cross-legged and hunched over my book. A tugging sensation rippled between my shoulder blades.

  Thor glanced my way.

  The more I thought about how much Aunt Terra and Uncle Esmun must need every cent the store and mystery school could generate, the more energy swelled behind me. Warmth radiated from my face. My whole body felt as if it was glowing. I tried to distract myself by flitting back to my book and my lengthy homework assignment list.

  I couldn't concentrate.

  Hazel had reached Aunt Terra and delivered what I hoped was the last pixie. She pivoted and spied me. The energy behind me compacted. It crackled with huge warrior/ninja/dragon chi — alert and ready to strike. The thought of straightening up and backing into it set the fine hairs on my forearms and nape on end.

  Thor's eyes met mine. Our gazes locked, and I swear he did a Zen mind meld. Soothing waves of chi — energy — flowed through me. The brimstone stink evaporated, replaced by the calming scent of lavender and sage.

  Hazel's gaze swiveled from me to Thor, then back to me. Looking buffeted by an unseen wind, she silently returned to her seat.

  The corners of Thor's full lips curved upward. Two urges warred within me — the desire to leap across the room and kiss him, and the urge to arch my neck and breathe fire.

  Thor's smile widened.

  "How did the classes go while I was gone?" Hazel asked, her voice unsteady.

  Thor averted his gaze, plastered a serious look on his face, and steepled his hands. Aunt Terra sighed. My lust shriveled as I absorbed her litany of under-enrolled workshops. I was too worried about being a financial burden to block her words.

  Uncle Esmun eyed Hazel when Aunt Terra had finished. "Looking back over the year, we've discovered some instructors have allowed people to audit their classes for free."

  Thor straightened in his chair. "Doesn't that break the faculty agreement?"

  "We've all been guilty of it," Hazel interjected. Her eyelashes fluttered behind her glasses. "One of my students kept forgetting to bring a check. Another promised to pay me when his father's lawsuit was settled. I'm sure they'll pay eventually."

  Maybe I could manifest a ninja throwing star. Just one.

  Aunt Terra clasped her hands and leaned forward in her chair. "The board must set a good example. We need to attract new seekers and collect payments from our delinquent students. Otherwise…" Her voice trailed off.

  "The store doesn't earn enough to support the school," Uncle Esmun added.

  "We need an infusion of cash," the alientologist surmised.

  "Exactly, Mac." Uncle Esmun bobbed his head. "One thought was to charge our readers a nominal fee for participating in our Sunday Psychic Sampler."

  "Out of the question," Hazel protested, her eyes focused and flinty again.

  Aunt Terra glanced at me then sat straighter. "Our intention had been to foster a community for local healers while increasing foot traffic and sales. Unfortunately, the clients appear to only want what they can get for free. While the readers, who benefit from our free advertising and free rent, encourage clients to see them off-site instead of renting space in the back." She stared at Hazel.

  Hazel sputtered and swiveled toward Cerelia. I could almost see the invisible cord connecting the two. Cerelia's constant smile wavered. Before she could speak, Mac asked, "How much do you average in love donations?"

  Thor, Hazel, and Cerelia all glanced down. Cerelia cracked first. "I average forty dollars during my three-hour shift."

  "About the same," Thor said.

  "Hazel?" Mac asked.

  She bent the corner of her tarot card. "I don't know. I never keep count."

  Liar.

  "How many private clients can you attribute to the Psychic Sampler?" Mac pressed. I totally downgraded his weird factor. For an older guy, he rocked.

  "I rent space here whenever I get a client," Thor volunteered.

  Hazel and Cerelia exchanged a questioning look.

  Evie's grandmother tossed her tarot card into the center of the table. "A small fee seems entirely reasonable. Terra and Esmun, why don't you set a price and announce it in the next practitioners' newsletter?" Hazel started to protest, but the woman cut her off. "In the meantime, how about a big event to draw people in?"

  The presence behind me nudged my back. I closed my eyes. An eye surrounded by scales and a few feathers stared back at me.

  "Esmun and I were thinking the same thing, Portia. Maybe link it to the solstice?"

  Portia. I wondered if Evie's grandmother had been named after Portia in The Merchant of Venice.

  "We don't have much time to organize and advertise a solstice event," Portia replied.

  Hello. Thank you. I liked her. She had a brain.

  "Are the casinos doing anything?" Mac asked.

  Aunt Terra frowned. "I don't think so."

  Whatever was behind me placed a claw on my shoulder. I froze, except for my eyelids, which opened like twin, rocket-propelled garage doors. Moving only my eyes, I willed Thor to look my way.

  Thor swiveled away from Portia. His gaze traveled from my pleading eyes to a space several feet above me. Calmly, he said, "One of the yoga centers in Palm Springs puts on an annual solstice ritual."

  Portia frowned and resumed fingering the tote strap. "Rats. Competition. We'll need to do something extraordinary."

  I tried to ignore the weight on my shoulder and returned my attention to my reading assignment. The claw squeezed my shoulder. Not painfully, but enough to freak me out so I couldn't read. Or breathe. I had the distinct feeling it wanted me to refocus. The school events and charity fundraisers I had organized popped up as photomontage inside my head.

  Portia examined her smartphone. "Not counting today, we have fifteen days until the winter solstice. It falls on a Saturday."

  Two weeks? They'll never make it.

  "Two weeks? Forget it. We're too late," said Uncle Esmun.

  I shook my head. The pressure on my shoulder eased.

  Mac, the alientologist, folded up his glasses and placed them on the table. "We'd need something unique. Any ideas?"

  The dragon (if I had any doubts, the claw and eye clinched it) nudged my back twice, pushing the words out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Fire fortunes."

  Aunt Terra blinked a couple of times and Uncle Esmun swiveled in his seat to stare at me. "Girl, what you be saying?"

  I wanted to say, "I have diarrhea of the mouth, ignore me!" But insistent dragon energy hopscotched through my veins like truth serum. "Fire fortunes. Je
tt does them. They're unique and amazing. You'd make a bundle. I'd be willing to organize the whole thing and collect the money."

  Although they had pretty much ignored the hissing tote, the board members stared at me as if I were a crash-landed radioactive meteor. Even Thor gaped.

  Crap.

  Chapter Thirteen

  "Jett does fire fortunes?" Uncle Esmun asked.

  I clutched my book and fought the need to dash to the bathroom and wash my hands. Silently, I counted the faces staring at me. One. Two. Three. Four—

  "Like, over a bonfire?" Thor asked.

  My brain stuttered. "Yes and no." I explained fire fortunes did not involve an actual open fire, or at least, not one the fire marshal needed to know about.

  Mac scribbled in his little notebook. "Fascinating. I vote we do it."

  Portia beamed in my direction. "Me, too."

  Hazel said in a reedy voice, "We do need the money."

  I sent Thor a telepathic plea to vote no. He descended into deep reverie as if I'd asked him to determine the fate of the universe. Come on. Come on. Please don't make me talk to Jett. I've suffered enough humiliation for one day.

  Thor shifted in his chair. "Jett won't agree to do it."

  My body slumped in relief.

  Aunt Terra made eye contact with each board member. "But if he says yes, then we're on. Ainslie, do you want to ask him?"

  I'd rather spacewalk without life support. Behind me, the dragon exerted friendly but insistent pressure between my shoulders.

  "Sure." What was the worst-case scenario? Oh, I know. Jett might turn me down — again. At minimum, he would kill me for volunteering him. Either way, I had to torch my pride and talk to him.

  I decided to seek out Jett and get the hard part over with. Besides, I wasn't getting any homework done. Back on the sales floor, I noted the teen couple had left. A glittery trail of fairy dust led from the wand display to the front door, assuring me they had taken Isis with them.

  Apparently, Jett had left too.

  In his place, a young woman with hair the color of bright copper wire perched on the stool by the computer. She reminded me of Dad's former personal trainer — same muscular build, identical hoodie unzipped to expose a black sports bra, same skin-tight yoga pants and muscular calves. I bet she had never eaten a cookie without running four miles afterward.