Scary Cool (The Spellspinners)

by Diane Farr

  Footsteps on the hardwood floor. I swore under my breath.

  “All right, yes. Now go.”

  He slipped through the screen door like a ghost, remembering to catch it with his hand so it didn’t bang. That’s Lance. He never misses a beat. I almost had a heart attack, though, because his fingertips were still visible when Nonny walked in. If she’d looked at the door, she’d have seen him.

  She didn’t though. That’s the thing about grownups. They mostly see what they expect to see.

  Maybe it was the cookies and maybe it was nerves, but I wasn’t very hungry.

  Lance had been back in my life for what, ten hours? Already it felt like he’d never left. I spent too much of last summer sneaking around behind Nonny’s back—and sometimes Meg’s—seeing Lance on the sly. No way was I falling back into that pattern.

  No. Way.

  Chapter 3

  I had to go, of course. But I had to wait until Nonny went to bed, because if she called to me or, God forbid, came upstairs for any reason and found me gone, my life would get even more complicated than it already is. It was nearly midnight when I slipped into jeans and a sweater to skatch downtown.

  ‘Downtown’ is a pretty laughable way to describe the Cherry Glen town square—it’s just a literal square, a one-block park with a gazebo band-shell-thing in the center—but that’s how we think of it. Not having anything better to designate ‘downtown.’

  I stood on the rag rug beside my bed. Closed my eyes. Pictured the path leading to the gazebo. And skatched.

  Cool air surrounded me. I breathed in the fresh, green dampness of the summer night and opened my eyes. Lance was waiting for me on the gazebo steps. He stood up when I appeared on the path before him. He’s so polite, if I didn’t know better I’d think he was well brought-up.

  And he’s so hot, I wish he had been. Well brought-up, that is. He was wearing some sort of motorcycle jacket that made him scary gorgeous.

  It was hard to read his expression in the shadows, but I don’t need to see Lance’s expression to know what it is.

  His smile was warm this time. I didn’t return it.

  “I can’t keep doing this. Tell me whatever it is you need to tell me, and let me go.”

  He sighed. “You’re still pissed at me. Would it help if I apologized?”

  I shrugged. “I doubt it. But why don’t you try?”

  I was just being flip, as I usually am with him—but he took the offer. Lance’s remorse immediately washed over me in waves of regret. Regret tinged with embarrassment. He was genuinely sorry for trying to break me. And even sorrier that I’d made a fool of him.

  He was sorry he scared me. He was sorry he lost his temper.

  Sorry he roughed me up. Sorry he tried to come between me and Meg.

  Sorry for a lot of stuff.

  But there were qualifications in there, too. He wasn’t showing me everything he thought or felt. And in my opinion, he wasn’t sorry enough—especially for trying to come between me and Meg. His methods in that attempt had been way ugly.

  I frowned. “See, here’s the thing. It’s always just half-way with you. You’re sorry, but only for some of what you did. You’re here to help me, but only if I do what you want. You’re on my side, yeah, to a point, but not entirely.” I took a deep breath. “Apology not accepted.”

  He felt me getting ready to skatch home and jumped off the steps. “Don’t go.” He automatically reached out his hand to stop me.

  And an interesting thing happened.

  Tiny purple sparks fizzed in the darkness between us.

  They were like sparks of static electricity, so faint that they would have been invisible in daylight. I felt nothing. Lance, however, flinched. His hand jerked back as if it had been stung.

  He stared at me and swore.

  “What was that?” I asked, intrigued. “And I can feel you searching for a good lie to tell me, so knock it off. Give me the truth.”

  He sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets. Looked off into the middle distance. Shrugged. And decided to tell the truth—I felt it.

  “After you banished me, I couldn’t skatch back to Cherry Glen. I told you about that. Rune brought me here. Physically brought me, in a car. We had no trouble coming into town, so I thought I was home free. I mean, I thought we’d done an end run around my banishment by traveling here like a couple of sticks. Guess not.” He looked at me. “I can’t touch you.”

  I felt my eyes widen. “Sweet.”

  “Hey, thanks.”

  “No, really. This is great. You don’t get it—why would you? But all my life, when I use the Power, whatever I’ve done unravels eventually. So it’s cool to find out that this spell still holds. At some level, anyhow.”

  The most important level, babe. Lance was pissed. Or disappointed. Or both.

  He must have had plans that involved touching me.

  I had to hide the flash of pleasure that realization gave me. Because I didn’t want Lance to know, quite frankly, that the thought of him touching me—or at least wanting to touch me—was kind of a thrill.

  Okay, there’s no ‘kind of’ about it. It thrilled me to the core. But still, I felt safer knowing that however much he wanted to, he couldn’t do it.

  “What about me?” I wanted to know. “Can I touch you?”

  Something flashed across his brain. He didn’t bother to hide from me that he enjoyed hearing me say those words. But there was something else, too—something he did hide. I sensed it, but couldn’t make out what it was. “Try it,” he suggested. All innocent-like.

  And I immediately knew that I could, in fact, touch him. And that if I did, I’d regret it.

  I eyed him warily. “What’s up with that? Come on, Donovan. Stop holding out on me.”

  “Well, I’m not sure.”

  Hah. He was ninety-nine percent sure. “Not sure about what?”

  “What would happen if you touched me.”

  “Okay. What do you think would happen?”

  He really, really didn’t want to tell me this. So I was mildly surprised when he did. “I think it would break the banishment.”

  I thought about it.

  “I bet you’re right. You can’t touch me—now. But once I touch you, after that, you’ll be able to touch me at will.”

  His smile was sly and wistful at the same time. “Within reason.”

  Heat pulsed through me, as if my blood had turned to molten metal. I suddenly wanted to touch him so bad.

  A breeze played with the lock of hair that falls across his forehead, teasing me. I wanted to shove my fingers into it and tuck it back into place.

  I wanted to cup his cheek with my palm. I wanted—

  I took another deep breath and stepped backward. “Stop putting thoughts in my head.”

  He laughed. “It’s all part of the game, babe.”

  “It’s cheating.”

  He showed his palms in a sign of surrender. “Okay, okay. We’ll play by your rules.” Then he grinned. “But mine are more fun.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Look, I can’t hang out here all night. Do you have something to tell me, or don’t you?”

  He was suddenly serious. “Yeah. It’s important. Would I go to all this trouble if it weren’t?”

  “I have no idea what’s ‘trouble’ to you. For all I know, enrolling at Cherry Glen High is your idea of a good time.”

  He didn’t rise to my bait. His eyes bored into mine, sharp with intensity. “You’re in danger, Zara. I mean it.”

  I almost laughed out loud. “I’ve been in danger since the day I was born.”

  “Not like this.”

  He was serious. But so was I. “Lance, all I want is to get through high school, okay? That’s enough of a challenge for me right now.”

  “What challenge? High school should be a piece of cake for you.”

  “I’m not talking about schoolwork, and you know it.”

  “Yeah, babe. I do know it.” He leaned toward me. “You
r challenge is getting through without getting caught. Day after day, year after year, surrounded by sticks. Trying to pretend you’re one of them. Trying to make them believe you’re nothing special.”

  “I was doing fine until you came along. You put us both in danger by coming here. What were you thinking?” I wanted to give him a shove in the chest, but controlled the impulse just in time. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, showing up with your stupid warning. Did the Council send you this time? Or are you acting on your own? Because if the Council sent you, I’m sending you back, and you can give them a message from me—“

  We’re not alone. He sent me the words silently, warning me to shut up. The mind-read lock that Lance and I share transmits the emotion simultaneously with the message, so there’s little room for misunderstanding. Usually when somebody tells you to shut up, you get mad. In this instance, I shut up. And sent him a half-formed question: ??

  He automatically reached for my hand, but hit the force field again (or whatever you’d call it) and jerked back. Nevertheless I followed his lead and we slipped silently into the shadows along the gazebo wall, moving in perfect sync. I felt Lance throw a glamour over us, further cloaking us from view.

  We spellspinners are naturally secretive. I suppose it’s ingrained in us after centuries of witch-burnings and whatever.

  I heard the click-click-click of a confident stride in high heels. The footsteps halted, and I saw her—a slim, leather-clad figure with a glorious mane of thick shoulder-length hair, red or brown; I couldn’t tell in the tricky light, even though she was standing near the lamp post at the end of the gazebo path. She was wearing a pair of elegant stiletto-heeled boots and had the lithe, graceful stance of a dancer. She scanned the park, her head held high, almost sniffing the air like an animal. I saw her smile. And then, click-click-click, she headed straight toward us.

  I had never seen her before. But there was something so feral, so menacing, about her that my heart rate accelerated. I sensed Lance throwing out more power, thickening the blanket of glamour he’d wrapped us in. Did that mean we were safe from detection? It was awful to just stand there, motionless, while she bore down on us.

  Lance knew her. I picked that up right away. And when she stopped about twenty feet from the gazebo and studied it, an amused little smile on her face, radiating confidence and power and fell intent, I realized that she was a spellspinner.

  Shock slammed into me. I didn’t gasp, but my eyes widened and my jaw went slack. I’d never seen a female spellspinner before—well, other than me, of course. In fact, I’d never met any spellspinner other than Lance. There are only fifty of us in the whole world. So seeing this…this…kinswoman was almost unbearably exciting. I almost forgot to be afraid of her.

  Almost.

  “Lance.” Her voice was soft and lilting. “I know you’re here.”

  Her eyes traveled slowly over the gazebo, lingering on the steps, the roofposts, the azaleas bunched around its perimeter. A low laugh escaped her. “Come on, Lance. I can practically smell you.” She walked up to one of the azaleas and nudged it with the toe of her boot. “Hm.”

  If she went all around the gazebo, touching stuff, she’d eventually find us. A glamour makes you look like something else (an azalea bush, for example), but it’s just an illusion. I was afraid to send Lance any of the questions swirling in my mind because I didn’t know what, if anything, the other spellspinner could pick up.

  Lance sent me a flicker of reassurance. Just be still.

  She can’t ‘hear’ us?

  No.

  Can you send her away?

  No.

  Can I?

  Don’t!

  Which probably means I could. But there wasn’t time to argue the point, especially not in the silent shorthand Lance and I use. I had to return my attention to the threat—for a threat she certainly was. She stood in the middle of the path, frowning now, one high-heeled foot tapping with impatience or annoyance. It occurred to me, as a matter of mild interest, that I couldn’t read her the way I read Lance.

  “Okay, fine,” she said at last. “I can wait. You just play your little games, lover.” Her tone was clipped with anger, but I caught the hint of a Southern drawl. And then she vanished.

  Lover. She distinctly said ‘lover.’

  I felt the glamour lift, so Lance must have thought the danger had passed.

  Hah. He had no idea.

  “Well, well,” I said, strolling out into the moonlight. “What an interesting evening this has turned out to be.”

  I sensed Lance’s soundless laughter behind me. “I warned you.”

  “Not about her. Who is she?”

  “Her name’s Amber. And she’s the least of your worries.”

  “Uh-huh. And what would you say is my biggest worry? In your opinion. By the way, I’m not worried. I’m mad.”

  I felt him wanting to reach for me again. And I felt him stop himself. “Turn around and look at me.”

  I did. He wasn’t laughing any more. “Spellspinners have different degrees of power. Amber isn’t very powerful.”

  “She can skatch. Obviously. Or she’d still be here.”

  “Every spellspinner can skatch. And she’ll get more powerful as time goes on. But—“

  “Here we go again! More stuff you haven’t told me. More secrets.” I jabbed my finger in his direction. “Lance, as a mentor, you suck. You’re so busy trying to keep the upper hand that you keep me completely in the dark.“

  “Calm down. I know there’s a lot of stuff I haven’t told you. I’m telling you now.”

  I folded my arms across my chest and fixed him with a glare. “I’m listening.”

  He sighed. “Power grows as you get older. That’s why the Council is always comprised of the seven oldest spellspinners. They are the most powerful.”

  I threw my hands up. “You’d never even told me that. I had no idea why the Council had to be a bunch of senior citizens. I can’t believe—“

  Lance continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “But we have different degrees of power to begin with. Power is inherent, and if you’re not born with it, you’ll never have it. So like I said, Amber is the least of—”

  A breeze suddenly gusted through the park, rattling the leaves all around us. He glanced sharply up into the trees. I followed his gaze with my own, but didn’t see anything. “What is it?” I asked. My voice was pitched higher than usual.

  “Nothing,” he said, but I knew he wasn’t convinced it was nothing. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Where to?

  Anywhere. Foster’s Freeze.

  I started to send him they’re closed, but he was already gone. Leaving me alone in the dark, with the trees rustling like voices all around me. “Nice,” I said, disgusted. And skatched to Foster’s Freeze.

  He was waiting for me, sitting on top of one of the metal tables in the darkest corner of the cement patio, silently laughing. “Of course they’re closed,” he said when I appeared. “I wouldn’t skatch here if they were open.”

  “Right,” I said crossly. “Just don’t ditch me.” I sat at a safe distance. The metal seat was like ice. “Now tell me about Amber.”

  I sensed his exasperation—and a flash of enjoyment. He thought I was jealous, and he liked that.

  Now I was really steamed. I opened my mouth to say something cutting, but closed it again. Number one, the madder I got, the more jealous he would think I was. Number two, who was I kidding? Lance was right. I was jealous. And he knew he was right. And I knew that he knew he was right. And so on.

  Because I hadn’t figured out that I was jealous until it was too late to hide—he’d already seen it.

  Sometimes this wholesoul thing can really trip you up.

  “Okay,” I said, resigned. “She called you ‘lover.’ I don’t know why that got my Irish up, because I totally shouldn’t care.”

  “Let it go, Zara. She’s called me ‘lover’ since I was twelve years old.” His tone was light. There was s
omething dark swirling behind his words, but he hid it from me before I could pull it into focus. “If you want to get home before daybreak, I think you’d better let me speak.”

  I waved my hand in a grand gesture. “Fire when ready.”

  The air between us thickened with Lance’s intensity. This mattered to him. A lot. And he was afraid that whatever he was about to tell me would tick me off. But he really, really needed me to hear him. So he was choosing his words carefully.

  His eyes gleamed greenly as he leaned forward, drawing me in. “Zara. They’re coming for you.”

  A chill wind tugged at my hair and set little pieces of trash in the parking lot skittering across the asphalt. I reached past Lance’s words and into his mind. He was afraid for me. Lance being Lance, was also worried about his own hide. But the concern for me was genuine. He wasn’t just trying to yank my chain, or exert his power. He wasn’t even particularly interested in hiding stuff from me.

  “Who’s coming for me?”

  I already knew the answer, of course. My unknown kin, the spellspinners, were coming for me.

  He heard my unspoken thought and nodded. “It’s not just Amber. Rune’s here, too. And believe me, three spellspinners in the same town—four, counting you—is a very big deal. There’s not that many of us, and we don’t hang out.”

  “But why?” I pounded my fist on the metal table in frustration. “Why can’t you all just leave me alone? I’m no threat to anybody.”

  Anger sparkled in his eyes. “You’re a threat to all of us. You’re a threat to yourself. And you don’t even know it.” He raked his hand through his hair and sighed. “What’ll I do with you?” he muttered, shaking his head. “We’ve got wholesoul and I still can’t get through to you.”

  “Wholesoul isn’t everything,” I said tartly. “Just because I read you loud and clear doesn’t mean I agree with you.”

  “You hear me, but you don’t listen.” He leapt lightly down from the table, a panther move, so he could pace. “You need to get serious about this. You’re a spellspinner. Be a spellspinner.”

  So basically, the message was old, although the attitude was new. I curbed my instinct to tell him off, and tried to appreciate his sincerity.