I glare at her. It’s not a solution. She keeps pushing it, but two days ago the council wanted other options. Even to them it seemed extreme. Too bad we have none yet.
“Many of us wonder about the image that presents,” Buckley James says as he stands.
“Image?” Dad asks.
Buckley squares his shoulders. “If we start marking witches, it makes us appear like we have no other alternative. Dare I say it’s a move of fear rather than prevention?”
Ten points to Buckley. The Triad told the council about the marking—but not every piece. At the words ‘bound magic,’ they dismissed it. Anytime an innate piece of DNA is removed from a witch, negative consequences follow. Based on what was discussed in the meeting two days ago, it was enough to make them all reject the course of action.
I look at Dad, and his jaw is tense. That’s how he gets when he doesn’t like the ideas being questioned, all coiled up and ready to pounce.
“We need to take action. This is out of control,” another voice calls out, while Mrs. Bentham adds from her seat, “What about Containment? We move the Statics, whether they’ve manifested or not, to a secure location.”
“That’s a horrible idea,” I say without thinking. Every single person in the room looks at me. Dad is angry, which I can tell from his face, but it’s his normal state with me. I throw my hands in the air. “If you’d like to put a bunch of people with uncontrollable magic in a building and lock them up, then be my guest. I have a feeling you won’t like that outcome.”
“Do you have another suggestion then?” Rafe asks, his eyes locked on mine.
I shift in my seat. I start to say no, but then I see Ellore staring at me from the council seats. She’s the one really behind this marking idea, and I hate it. We don’t even know what the marks will do. I want to not speak up, to not give in to my father’s plan for me, but I hear Pen telling me that I can change how things are.
“Actually, yes,” I say. I sit up straight in my chair. “The answer is not to separate the Statics, but to embrace and guide them.”
I sound like a hippie, but it’s true.
Too bad no one else thinks that. The whole room roars into talking at once. I can’t make out what any one person is saying. Some look angry, others excited, and I haven’t even finished the idea yet.
“Quiet,” Dad yells over the room. They don’t stop talking until he stands and bellows the word, magically magnifying his voice. As soon as they stop talking, he looks at me. “Continue.”
I stand so I look more commanding. That’s what Dad does when he wants to look in control. Imagine you are the most important voice in the room and you will become that. “If we teach them how to use the magic they’ve obtained, then they can be in control of it.”
A few people in the council roll their eyes at my sentence. I make mental notes of their names in my head, along with a reminder that closed-minded people are not welcome in the future.
“Statics are exiled as soon as they are eighteen and cut off from everything in our world. They don’t have our knowledge or experience, and this is a chance for us to fix that, to give them the training and tools they need. We need to teach them how to use magic.” It strikes me that I do believe those words. I didn’t even know that I did. Not until I’ve said them.
Sabrina shakes her head. “You want us to teach the Statics how to use magic?”
I glance at her. “Hold on, wait…Yes, I think that’s what I just said.”
A few people chuckle, but she glares at me in response. Bethany Targen stands from the council seats and pushes her glasses up higher on her nose. “You expect us all to give up our time to teach the Statics how to use their magic. They aren’t supposed to have magic in the first place.”
“And yet they do,” Rafe says. “Magic is not ours to command, but to borrow and use for good.”
“They are out there without training, manifesting at random moments, accidentally killing Nons and Enforcers. Every day they don’t feel like they have anywhere safe and accepting to go is another day they remain quiet and risk exposing all witches. I don’t see how there’s another way,” I say. Even I am a little surprised by how much I care about this. I hadn’t really thought about it before, but it could work. It has to work. For too long our community has pushed away people who need us. Like Emmaline Spencer, Penelope’s great-great-great-whatever-grandma, and my mom, too. They certainly can’t be the only ones.
“If we teach them magic, how do we even have any guarantee that this will work?”
“Yeah, what if our efforts are wasted?”
“Or what if it works?” I ask. “You could all be hailed as innovators, fearless, and willing.”
Everyone considers that for a moment. Make them think it’s for their benefit and they will always step up. At our core, we are selfish beings. Play on that. A few of the council members whisper back and forth. It’s really working.
“But they’re Statics,” Nick Vantage says. “They shouldn’t even be here anyway.”
“And you’re an asshole, but we let you stay.”
A few people in the council giggle again, and I see a warning look from Dad out of the corner of my eye. I don’t give a shit what he thinks. “For centuries we’ve pushed away Statics. Even without magic, they’re still our blood, yet we exile them like they are worse than demons. This is our chance to make up for that—and it benefits us. This will increase our numbers, make us stronger. Think of the amount of Statics we could add to our numbers. Demons won’t take us down if we make the Statics our allies.”
For the first time, without command, the whole room is quiet, everyone looking at me. Some of them look angry, others relieved, and all of them seem to be assessing what I said. That’s huge, considering the audience. I have them right where I want them, and now, Dad’s best lesson ever: Lay out the stakes, make them painful and desperate, and then you always win.
“The marking is unstable. Containment is not a valid option. If we don’t teach them, then the alternative is exposure. Either they expose us by wandering around with uncontrollable magic, or we expose ourselves because we’ve tried to contain the uncontrollable and they cause some accident that makes the news in a way that even we can’t cover up.” When I finish, I lean back and prop my legs up on the table to piss off Dad and Nick Vantage a little more. “I hope you all will make the right decision.”
The council members whisper among themselves. The Triad looks back and forth to each other. Dad clears his throat. My stomach twists a little. Is that nerves?
“All in agreement to teach the Statics as a trial phase, please rise.”
Rafe stands, followed by my dad, and slowly all of the council stands. I watch them pop up one at a time, and lower my feet to the floor. They’re listening to me? To me? Even the asshole? Soon the whole room is standing, even Sabrina, so I jump up, too.
Dad looks at me. “Then, it is decided. We’ll start the initiative, and with your guidance, Carter, I think it will be a good one.”
Did my dad just call me Carter and tell me I had a good idea in the same sentence? The Statics having magic isn’t the only thing that’s weird around here.
…
During my lunch break, I pull out the demon tracker I made on my phone and search for Vassago. He’s in a coffee shop not that far from the Nucleus House. When I get there, his old man form with the dirty beard to his knees and singular striped sock looks out of place. He looks up.
“I was hoping you could help me,” I say. Vassago points at a chair across from him and I sit.
“What do you seek?” he asks.
I cross my arms. “Information about the marking.”
His eyes widen but then he points at the chair. Vassago doesn’t say anything, so I jump right in. “Has a halfling ever received it? I was doing some research, and it seems to have negative effects on witches. Does it do the same to halflings? Is it worse?”
Vassago stares at me momentarily. “When magic wants somethin
g, it will get it. Everything belongs in a certain place.”
“What does that mean?”
He only nods in response. “Magic is a gift.” Then he picks up whatever he’s drinking, and looks away from me. I remain there, hoping for tangible clues, but he doesn’t speak, and eventually, I leave.
Chapter Nineteen
Penelope
While I wait for Connie to get home, I stare at the mark on my pinky. The little black dot seems bigger than it was yesterday. What are you, little black dot? I’m still looking at my finger when Connie plops down on the couch next to me and grabs my hand.
“Ouch. Slam it in a car door again?”
I scoff. “That was once and I was twelve.” She stares into the distance of the living room, her face heavier.
“Let’s watch Breakfast at Tifftany’s tonight, since we couldn’t last night,” she says.
I nod, and she moves from the couch, plucking the DVD from the shelf. “Sorry about your Enforcer exams. What happened in there yesterday?”
She sighs and bunches up her shoulders, tossing the movie on the coffee table and sitting on the corner of it. “I thought I’d have it. It was the oral quizzes, but I got flustered. Totally blanked and took too long.”
I reach out and take her hand. “I know how much it meant to you.” My mind drifts back to our conversation a few days back. Or how much I thought it meant.
Connie pulls her hand away. It’s not like her to be the non-touchy one. That’s usually me. “I thought I’d get farther than day one.”
My sister is way too smart to get flustered. It must have been a doozy. “What was the question?”
Connie glances at me and then away, shifting in her chair. I stare at her. Seriously. What’s all this suspense about? Her lips open, like she’s about to answer, but then she pulls out her phone and raises an eyebrow toward me. I look at the screen, and it looks like she’s checking an e-mail.
“Where’s your phone? When this thing rings you’re on it like white on rice.”
Must be the WNN. Lie, Penelope, quick.
“Battery’s dead,” I say, and she tilts her phone my direction. Right. I should be able to see words there. I can’t see anything. But if she knows that then I’ll have to explain it. Crap.
I start coughing and move from the couch and grab some water. Foolproof plan.
Then Connie gasps. “No freaking way.”
“What?”
Her eyes are wide when they land on mine. “Taylor Plum is dead.”
Taylor Plum is dead. Wait. What? “What happened?” She shakes her head. “Read it to me,” I say, coughing again for good measure.
“Taylor Plum, Static, 16, and sister of renown Enforcer Shira Plum, was found dead in the bike path on Four Mile Run. Plum was fleeing Enforcers after it was revealed that her magic manifested. Witnesses say it seemed that she was using magic when she glowed with a white light, and then collapsed. Enforcers say she was dead upon their arrival.”
Whoa. We saw her five days ago. She had magic then, but she definitely didn’t glow. There’s only one situation that witches glow, at least in my experience, and that’s when the void is involved.
“So, the magic killed her?”
“Maybe,” Connie says, scrolling down her phone.
My phone sings out from across the room and Connie glances at me as I move to grab it off the coffee table. “I thought it was dead.”
“Guess not,” I shrug. “Ric.”
“I-can’t-believe-Taylor-Plum-is-dead-how-did-this-happen?” Translation: he’s freaking out, too.
I shrug even though he can’t see me. I’m trying to keep my cool, but my mind is crazed with ideas. Scenarios, reasons, explanations. I’m not sure which of them are right or if I even want any of them to be.
“No idea.”
“Do you think it was the magic?” he asks. “I mean, that’s the only thing abnormal. What if other Statics start to die?”
Suddenly, I wish it was anything else. A car accident. Being struck by lightening. A demon attack, even. At least all of those things have a better explanation. “It could’ve been non-magical.”
“Like a heart attack,” Connie adds.
“Exactly. Like a heart attack,” I repeat to Ric.
“She was fifteen—and she ran cross-country.”
Panic forms in my chest. If the magic killed her…“It could’ve been anything. A brain aneurysm, bad sushi, a bee sting,” I say.
“A bee sting? Really, Penelope?”
“Maybe she was allergic.”
“Or it was the magic.”
“It could’ve been anything.” Anything else, besides magic, because if it was the magic and I released the magic, then isn’t it my fault she’s dead? She’s dead and Maple’s dead and Ric is gone, and all of that is on me.
“I wish I was there to help out with this. Whatever’s going on, it’s big. I should be there.”
“You’re better where you are. Right now you’re not an Enforcer, so all of this isn’t your concern. Get better and stay safe,” I say.
“Safe isn’t always ideal,” Ric says back.
“But safe is alive, and alive is what’s important.”
He’s quiet on the other end of the line, a deep breath fills my ear as he inhales. “Is it?”
I don’t say yes, because I’m not sure anymore.
Chapter Twenty
Carter
This is on us.
I stare at Pen’s text one more time. Taylor Plum is dead, and Pen feels like we’re responsible. I was going to tell her about the mark tonight, but I can’t throw this on her right now. If Taylor Plum died using magic, then why? How do we stop it? And can we?
“Carter,” Pen says, coming up over the hill. I hug as soon she’s near, but she pulls away from my arms too quickly. It makes sense, with everything, but I don’t like it. If she’s pulling away from me already, then all the other things I have to tell her will not be easy.
Pen shakes her head. “She got magic and she died.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
She shakes her head, and I see the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “Figure it out? You keep saying that but we have no information! We did this, somehow, Carter. We spread that magic from De’Intero. Maybe we should come forward and tell everyone what’s happening.”
I try to pull her closer again. “We can’t do that.”
Pen jerks away from me. “Why not? We can save them.”
“How? From what? This morning the council wanted us to round up all the Statics and mark them all and—”
Her eyes widen. “That’s perfect. Let’s do that. We can at least contain the magic that way.”
“Pen, no, it’s not the solution.”
“Why?” she asks.
Now’s my chance to tell her what the mark will do to her, what it’s done to anyone in history who’s had it. “Pen, the marking doesn’t—”
“Block the void,” a voice calls from the darkness. Pen and I both look around, and the mauve demon steps out of the shadows. “Sorry to interrupt.”
That demon. Again.
“What are you doing here?” Pen asks.
“Finishing some business with you from yesterday. And him, I guess,” She nods toward me, and looks down at our still entwined hands. “Do you mind? I don’t want to disappear.”
I smirk. Last time we held hands and felt threatened we made all those demons disappear. I drop Pen’s hand, but stand close. The demon walks around us, its eyes out on the horizon. It’s still talking to Pen? “It’s beautiful up here. Almost like heaven. Or so I would think.”
“What’s happening?” Pen asks. I hear the anxiety in her voice. For a second, I wonder if she’s right about telling everyone. The Triad can clean up our mess—but at what cost? Everything, I tell myself. Sharing the truth with them is going to make everything worse because we’ll have to tell them how we know, who we are, what we’ve done. It’s only a last resort.
The mauve demo
n sighs. “I told you that you could trust me. I’m trying to prove that.” It steps toward us and looks at Pen. “This mess with your unfortunate witches is because of the pair of you.”
I step forward between Mauve and Pen. I don’t like the way the demon looks at her, like she’s a piece of meat or a prize. This is wrong. My hand itches. It’s hard to be around a demon and not put it out of its misery. “Demons aren’t usually so forthcoming with information,” I say.
It smirks at me. “I’m not a usual demon. We’re after the same goal here.”
“Which is?” I ask.
A smile. I really want to slit its throat. “That Static who died today? She’s only the beginning. It will change them.”
“Change them into what?” Pens ask.
The demon shrugs as if it’s bored. “If you take something pure and taint it with something else, how long will it take until it changes? A day, a month, a year?”
Turn them into demons? The Statics will turn? Pen’s face darkens. Not good is an understatement. Considering the way she talks about how that magic feels, they’d be crazy, powerful ones. “How do we stop it?” I ask.The demon smiles, puts a hand up in the air to stop us from talking. “I’m not here to answer your questions. I’m here because you owe me and I have a proposition.”
Pen takes my hand again, and the mauve demon looks horrified. It’s only a second, but the message is clear.
“I’m not in the business of making deals with demons. So, thanks, but no thanks,” Pen says.
“What do you want?” I ask. I don’t trust it, but we can at least hear it out. Pen glances at me in disbelief that I’m even indulging the demon. I’m surprised too, if I’m honest. But information is key here. We need to get as many details we can about what’s going on.
The mauve demon crosses its arms. “To be restored,” it says to me. My eyes widen as it steps toward Pen. “You can do that, Penelope.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “How?”
“The Restitution.”
That spell. The one that is supposed to bring back Pen’s magic. She was planning to do that before she met me. “You have the black dagger. You have the spell. Now you only need the demon who did this to me.”
Storm: a Salt novel (Entangled Teen) Page 12
