“May I?” Poncho asks, pointing to the dagger. Carter nods and I watch the delicate way Poncho removes the dagger from Carter’s hands. He dusts off some of the dirt and traces the weird circular symbols on the hilt.
“What is it?” Carter asks.
Poncho shakes his head, which is surprising. He knows everything. It’s sort of what he does. Have we been sucked into the Twilight Zone? “These symbols go back to the beginning. They were the markings of Taliel and Lucifer, part of the secret language the demons created.”
This dagger goes all the way back to the beginning of our creation, then. Taliel was the other angel who fell with Lucifer, one of his closest companions. We knew it was important, but this? Wow.
“I can keep it safe and do some research for you. Each of these symbols has a meaning. It will require a few days’ time,” Poncho says.
Carter looks at me for an answer. I believe in Poncho. Even if he has a few secrets that don’t make sense to me yet, I feel I can trust him. “No problem,” I say.
If it means we get some more answers, then I’m up for anything.
Chapter Four
Carter
I can’t help but look at Pen. Sure, I always like looking at her. At the curve of her neck and the way her hair falls against her spine. The way her blue eyes always seem to darken when she’s up to something, or sparkle when she’s happy, which are nearly interchangeable. At the curve of her breasts and her hips and the way every single part of her short frame is perfect. Even that freckle on the back of her neck that she probably doesn’t know is there. But there’s something about her that seems unfamiliar now.
I watch her reflection in the mirror as she twists her wet blond hair into a bun. For the last few days she’s got this thing. She’s more confident. I can see it when she stands, when she speaks, and definitely when we’re using magic. Almost like having the void, even if it may not be good, makes her feel like she’s more.
I hate that she feels like she needs magic to be the best. That’s part of the problem with our society—the Triad has placed so much weight and power on a witch’s status and the rights you have versus when you’re a Static or—God forbid—a halfling.
Penelope’s an amazing Enforcer, and she could kick my ass even without magic. That’s definitely part of what makes her stand out from others. Better. It’s not the magic, or how she looks, and it never has been. Not for me.
“What?” she asks, a nervous smile reflecting back at me.
I shrug. “Thinking.”
Her eyes narrow the way they do when she’s worried. It’s cute. “About what?”
I feel myself smile at the look on her face. “You.”
She turns and leans against the dresser, her eyes on me. “If this about today, I’ll be more careful. I hate fighting with you. I got carried away, that’s all. It’s….” she pauses and inhales. “I can’t explain what its like. It’s like when we use magic together, only a thousand times more.”
“Addicting?”
She shrugs. “A little, but in a good way. Like somehow this is who I was always meant to be.”
I don’t like that thought or the look on her face. Just because we’re halflings it doesn’t mean that we’re meant to do anything with void magic.
“No, that’s not right, either.” She waves off the thought. “I haven’t found the right words yet. Maybe there aren’t any. Like being with you.”
I can see the sincerity carved into her face, but that doesn’t mean I like being compared with demon magic. But, if being with me is like what I feel when I’m with her, then I get it. There’s something freeing and terrifying all at once. Debilitating and invigorating. Words I’d never imagined I’d use for another person.
“I don’t want to lose you,” I say. And the fact is, if anyone finds out, I could. I’m not sure what I’m more afraid of: the Triad finding out that she can access it and exiling her forever, or what my dad would say and do under the guise of protecting me. If there’s one thing I know more than anything, even more than demons, it’s that nothing matters more to Victor Prescott than me.
Prescott men protect themselves above all others.
Or rather the Prescott name, which I have the lucky misfortune of bearing.
Penelope sits down beside me on her bed. “Where’d you go?”
I shake my head, then look at her, raise an eyebrow, and smile. “You don’t want to know where I went.”
“What if I do?” Her cheeks get a little rosy—I love that I can do that to her. Making her blush is one of the highlights of my day. That and the way she can practically purr under my lips when we kiss. And the feel of her skin on mine. Really, everything. Even when she pisses me off because she risks herself like she does. Maybe especially then.
“Do you think you can handle it?” I ask her.
She nods and sits up straighter next to me. “I’m braver than I look.”
I lean in closer to her so my mouth is a breath from her ear. She inhales when I speak. “I went here,” I say, and I press my lips in that spot under her ear. “And here.” I kiss her cheek. “And here,” I kiss her jaw and run my hand over her stomach. My fingers touch the skin under her shirt. “And here,” I say, kissing her neck. She’s practically on fire under my touch as my fingers trace a line up to her belly button.
“And—” I move to kiss her but she turns her mouth to me first. Her hands press against my back, pulling me in closer to her as her tongue slides into my mouth. Then, there isn’t any thinking. My fingers are all over her skin and she seems to curve into my touch. Every time her body responds that way, it makes me feel invincible. Like I can do anything and we can be anything and together, unstoppable.
“Why is this door closed?”
Pen and I separate and launch up from the bed. Connie, Penelope’s sister, stands in the doorway, eyes filled with laughter. Penelope throws a pillow at Connie, and I look down at the floor and count to ten. One, two, three…
“You should knock,” Penelope snaps.
A fast breeze swishes past my head and then back again, a soft thud landing on the bed. A pillow. “You shouldn’t have the door closed. You know the rules. What if I was Gran?”
Pen scoffs. “As if you don’t break the rules every day.”
Nine. Ten.
Maybe I’ll go to twenty.
“True, but at least I was always sneaky. You’re pretty obvious,” she says. Eighteen. “Ric and Maple are downstairs. That’s why I volunteered to come up here for you. You’re welcome.”
I look up to see Pen cross her arms. Connie’s in the doorway staring between us, smile on her lips. She looks like Penelope does when she’s gotten her way. No one says anything for a minute. This is awkward.
“Thanks, Connie,” I say, and flash her the Prescott smile. One of confidence and assurance that my dad taught me was part of the Prescott name, part of being in charge. Immediately, her whole face changes, and I’m a little surprised that worked on her. It’s never done anything with Pen. “We were coming down.”
Connie mmhmms and leaves us. Pen throws the pillow at the side of my face. “What?”
“Was that necessary?”
“It’s just a smile.” Even though I know it’s not ‘just’ anything except one more attribute that my dad has instilled in me that I hate, but use anyway. I’m doomed, I guess.
“Don’t fake-Prescott-all-is-well-trust-me smile to my sister. Got it?”
I hold my hands up defense. “It worked, didn’t it?”
Pen grabs my hand and pulls me toward the door. “Let’s go. It’s party time.”
Maple and Ric have dominated the conversation for the last twenty minutes, and we have barely eaten yet. Connie hangs on their words, but Pen doesn’t say anything, which is odd. No one else seems to notice anything. Maybe I’m paranoid.
“It makes me hopeful for our future when you are the next generation,” Frank Warren, Penelope’s grandpa, says. “We’re in good hands. Good hands, indeed.”<
br />
I push the noodles around with my fork. Ric whispers to Connie and she laughs, covering her mouth with her hand.
“How does it feel to be retired, Mr. Warren?” Maple asks, her eyes wide. “Fifty-five years is a long time.”
“Too long,” Deborah Warren, Pen’s grandma, adds. I watch as Frank takes her hand. Everyone’s eyes seem to go there, to the two of them holding hands. No one in my life has been married as long as them. I’ve only known them a short time, but they definitely seem like a force to reckoned with.
Frank takes a sip of his water. “It’s only been a day, so it’s hard to say for sure, I reckon it will be a good change. More time with my granddaughters.” He looks for a second too long at Penelope. “Right, Penelope?”
She looks up from her plate, confused for a second. Maybe she wasn’t paying attention. “Right—yes. Yes. It will be good, Pop.” She smiles pretty big at him, but it almost looks fake to me. I would know.
After dinner, Ric stops me, motioning toward Pen with his head. “What’s wrong with her?”
My heart speed races for a second. It’s always a strange feeling when someone else points out what you already noticed. To be sure I poke his thoughts more. “You think something’s wrong?”
“You don’t?” Ric says.
I glance toward Penelope and she’s sitting on the couch, seemingly staring into space. Everyone’s talking around her but she’s not saying anything. She’s never not talking. So, yes, I have noticed. What I don’t know is why.
“She seemed so happy this afternoon, happier than she has ever since…” He points down and whistles. Yeah, I’m aware. “Do you think it’s because of Maple? Am I being neglectful? Maybe I should hang out with Penelope more.”
“I’m sure it’s not that,” I say.
I keep my eyes on Pen as Ric keeps talking about being a bad best friend. She’s smiling, but she looks tired. Really tired. And something else that I can’t place that wasn’t there earlier. Or maybe it was there, and I didn’t see it underneath the confidence she was projecting. I should’ve seen it.
“I mean, I could go out with her. Even though we both have other people doesn’t mean I don’t need her around.”
I rest my hand on his shoulder. “Dude, stop. It was a long day. I’m sure she’s tired.”
Ric nods slowly, but I can tell that he thinks it’s more than that. “Yeah, that would make sense.”
Ric goes and sits next to Pen and Maple. Deborah passes a present to Frank, and I join them. I strap on my smile too, and slide my hand into Pen’s. She looks at me, her eyes soft, and then back to her family. She does seem off. When did that happen? I replay the day in my head, and I can’t pinpoint when it started. She’s seemed so much like herself all day.
“This is from Carter,” Connie says, passing her grandpa my retirement gift.
“Thank you, son,” Frank says, his old shaky hands tearing off the paper.
The rest of the evening, I keep one hand in Penelope’s in case she needs it there.
Chapter Five
Penelope
First thing the next morning, Connie is waiting outside my door, her foot propped against the wall and phone in hand, probably playing that game she loves so much. I watch her for a second. She looks like mom more and more with her big eyes and curls. She’s got on boots that make her taller than me, which I swear she does so she looks like the older sister. My family has spent so much time protecting the secret about my magic that sometimes it feels like she is the older sister. The one giving advice, keeping the other safe, sacrificing happiness. No more. Now that I have magic, I can do it like I was always supposed to.
“You’re actually awake,” I say. It’s after six, early for both of us, but I have to report to work in an hour.
Connie shrugs, her blond curls bouncing off her shoulder, and slides her phone into her pocket. “It’s for waffles,” she says with a smile.
“Not for me?”
“You mean you’re coming too? Fine.” She smiles, and then starts down the stairs. After I got back from De’Interno, we made a promise that we’d have breakfast once a week. Just the two of us. With everything going on—with Carter, patrol, Connie’s Enforcer examinations, and then school starting again—sister time is important.
Outside, the summer air is crisp and still cool. The sun peeks through the trees and cars are already piling up in the streets to start the morning commute. We walk down the sidewalk toward this diner that’s been here for ages.
“Are you feeling better today?” Connie asks.
Starting with Pop’s party two days ago, I felt like I was in a fog. I barely remember much past kissing Carter in my room. Today, though, I feel good. I am good. I can’t explain the change.
“Absolutely. Like a new person,” I say. I realize I do. I feel energized and in tune. So much so that I could stop and feel my own heart pumping life through my veins. I could maybe even fly. Or not really, but I’d be willing to try. “Are you ready for the Enforcer examinations?”
Connie stuffs her phone into her pocket and almost makes a face. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
Then, she’s quiet, as if I said the wrong thing. The silence is awkward for a good four seconds. Far too long for me. “What kind of waffles are you going to get? I’m thinking Nutella.”
“Banana walnut,” Connie says back.
“Good choice,” I say.
“Have you ever wondered what you’d be if you weren’t an Enforcer?” Connie says suddenly. I steal a glance toward her while we walk, trying to read her face. There’s nothing noticeable there, nothing that seems nervous or worried.
“Why? Do you?” I ask. She shrugs, then pulls her curls back into a ponytail. She’s avoiding. Obviously she has. I touch her arm.
“It doesn’t matter,” she says, her voice flat.
“You can tell me anything.”
Connie scoffs, and her eyes shoot toward mine. “Like you tell me everything?”
Touché. I am keeping a secret from her right now about the void, and I hate it. I almost tell her right then, but I see Carter’s face. The way he always looks at me after I’ve used magic, the fights we have about it, the way he doesn’t understand, the worry. I don’t want to see Connie carry that. I want to protect her from this.
“I tell you things that are important,” I say. She looks at me with disbelief, and I push away the part that feels guilty for keeping my secrets. She doesn’t respond, so I sigh. “No, I haven’t. This is what I’ve always wanted, and I’m living it. I found Carter, and my friends, and purpose.”
I look at my sister but her eyes are distant. “What would you do if you weren’t an Enforcer?”
Her brown eyes widen and focus on mine, a lightness to them. “I’d marry for money in a minute.”
I blink for a second, and then I laugh. She’s quoting Breakfast at Tiffany’s, the scene with Holly and Paul. That’s our movie. It was one mom used to watch with me before, and now we watch it. Mom loved Audrey Hepburn. “I guess it’s pretty lucky neither of us is rich, huh?”
She chuckles. “I love that movie.”
“Me too,” I say. But that doesn’t change the question. “Seriously, what would you do?”
Connie shrugs again, which is becoming her default that means ‘I don’t want to tell you.’ “I haven’t really thought about it. I’m nervous, I guess.”
I wish I could say that it’s fine to want another path, that she can be whatever she chooses, and that Gran would be thrilled if she was. That she’s a free, wild bird that doesn’t have to be in a cage. I don’t say that, though, because I’m selfish and I wish she wanted this, too. To be like me, and Pop, and our parents. To serve and protect and fight.
But then she pushes past me into the diner, and neither of us mentions anything else about it for the rest of breakfast.
…
I am definitely a new person today. I’m Batman. Try to get me, suckers!
I duck a shot of magic from a demon. They
don’t usually fight this way, but whitey here is determined to knock me out. Good luck, good sir.
Having magic is kick-ass.
Seriously.
Another shot of magic barely misses my ear, but I somehow maneuver my body to avoid it. It feels like that scene in the Matrix when the bullets zoom by, but Neo freezes them all in that way only really awesome people can do. It’s that. Only instead of bullets, it’s magic, and instead of freezing them I can toss on some salt and blast them away with my mind.
I focus on the void and let the coolness of the magic fill me up, and then I blast it toward the demon. It falls back, trapped against the iron I created by the power of my mind.
I don’t know how I lived without my own magic. Literally and figuratively.
The demon hisses at me but it can’t move. It struggles against the barrier that I’ve created from nothing. I stand, watching it, and the demon tries to escape my hold, but it slings back like a rubber band. Its struggle against my magic is surprisingly sweet. I glance around, but Ric and Maple are on the other side of the woods, and I can only see Ric because of his red shirt between the trees. I smile a little and then say the incantation out loud, only because I don’t want anyone to notice I can expel a demon without talking. Not after my conversation with Carter two days ago. “Virtute Angeli ad infernum unde venistis.”
Without a pause, the demon explodes into goo.
Yeah, I lied. This is cooler than the Matrix.
“You good?” Carter says as he runs toward me. His cheeks are flushed and he’s covered in some demon guts. We’re both breathing hard, like air is rare and we’re about to suffocate. His chest heaves under his ripped shirt. He’s never looked hotter, and I nod with a smile. Like, a psycho-killer-clown smile. At least that’s how it feels, but I can’t contain whatever this is. Another side effect of the void?
I play it off like it’s not a big deal. I try to, anyway.
And then I kiss him. Straight up take him off-guard and thrust myself into the space between us. My lips are hungry against his, and it takes him a few seconds to respond to me. But when he does, it’s with his whole body. Hands in my hair, on my skin, everywhere they can be. Someone yells in the background, and when I pull away my head is spinning with him. Carter’s staring at me, half-cocked grin on his face.
Storm: a Salt novel (Entangled Teen) Page 3
