“It’s not the test, Ric.”
“What is it? What’s going on, Penelope? You’ve been weird ever since you met Carter.”
“It’s complicated,” I say.
Ric crosses his arms. In the twelve years we’ve known each other, we’ve never had a fight. Not a real one. I don’t know what to do with this. I can’t tell him anything. It would mean explaining too much, and I don’t have answers.
He throws his hands up. “I’m going home. When you have time for me again—or when you decide to be honest—you can text me. Maybe I’ll answer.”
He stomps off and I just stand there, staring at that stupid white burrito bag.
Chapter Twenty
Vassago is laughing at me. Its voice is twisted, writhing with something evil, more evil that I’ve ever heard. In a black, scaly form, the demon doesn’t really look like the Vassago I’ve met.
I’m in the alley; this time Carter isn’t there. I’m alone and I’m surrounded. Vassago has friends, friends that have trapped me.
“You didn’t find the truth,” Vassago taunts.
“Tell me now,” I demand.
It shakes its head. “Too weak to seek it out, to fight. The clues were there. Open your eyes.”
“My eyes are open!” I yell. It laughs again. The other demons pull on me, their talons digging into my skin, gripping me so I can’t move. One trails a slimy hand through my hair before yanking on it. I want to scream, but I don’t want them to know they’re hurting me. I want to fight, to mash in their heads and run, but they’re stronger.
I feel it all, and it’s just like before. I want the pain to stop. It pierces, burns through my skin. I know they’re about to kill me, to drain me. Tears fall from my eyes as I yell Carter’s name.
He doesn’t come.
“Just tell me, please,” I beg. I beg, I beg, I beg. Bright eyes stare back at me. Black hands, red hands, green hands push me down, holding me in place. Vassago’s beard brushes against my face.
“Open your eyes!” Vassago yells.
“Open your eyes, Penelope!” Connie yells at me. “Penelope!”
I shoot up in the bed, gasping for air. Everything is spinning. Sweat pours off my skin and Connie stares at me, concern etched on her tired face. “You were dreaming again. This is the second night in a row.”
I’ve been dreaming about Vassago since Ric and I started fighting. Ric hasn’t talked to me in two days. He barely looks at me when we’re in the same room, and between that and the test in a week and the demons, I’m a little stressed.
“I know,” I say, breathless. My head is spinning. “Sorry I woke you.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. I want Connie to go away. I need to refocus, but she’s here, staring at me. She shouldn’t be so worried. I can handle this. The test is in five days. Only five more days.
“Maybe you need a break from training.”
“I said I’m fine!” I snap. Connie shakes her head at me and I grab her hand. “I’m fine,” I say for the third time. Jeez, I needed a new line. “It was a nightmare, okay? It’s been a long couple of days.”
I look at the clock and it’s four in the morning. I have to meet Carter at six, so I might as well get up now.
“I’m okay, Connie. I promise,” I say. Connie doesn’t move from my bed. I shouldn’t have expected it. I grab some clothes out of my dresser and move toward the bathroom.
“You sure you’re okay?”
I smile at my sister. “I promise.” But I don’t know. Not really. I’m just going on hope.
I’m almost to the Nucleus House when Carter sends me a different address. We’ll practice here, is all it says. The house he sends me to is a mess. Shutters missing or half hanging off the windows. Paint yellowed and peeling off the siding. Bricks from the chimney crumble off the roof. The wood on the porch looks rotted and not very safe. Leave it to Carter to bring me to some abandoned house. If this is the start of some horror flick I’m going to be pissed.
As I cross the threshold, I notice there’s a stale scent to the house, much like the one that fills the house I grew up. Like no one’s opened the windows in decades. It’s a bit overpowering. It lingers in my head, pushing thoughts of my parents up to the surface and of the demon and how much I need my magic back.
“Carter?” I call out. No response.
I turn left into an old living room. Two dusty couches are pushed against the walls. The floor is covered in red mats.
“Carter?” I yell, tossing my bag on one of the couches. Where is that boy? I turn to go back toward the exit when something knocks me off my feet and flat onto the mat. No one is there. No Carter. Not even a demon.
“This isn’t funny.”
There’s still no answer. I can’t get up. I can’t move my legs or my arms from the ground. I’m stuck lying on the ground, from neck to butt to ankles. Just like with that demon a couple days ago. He’s totally going to pay for this.
“Carter, let me go!”
“You have to want it, Pen. Get up. Use your magic.” His voice is closer than I expected, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
“I will and then I’ll kick your ass!” I yell. He doesn’t speak again, but his laugh echoes around me. The place feels creepy with the echoes, the peeling flowered wallpaper, and the smell.
Jerk. I really hate him. I attempt to push myself up from the ground, but it’s not working. No matter how many times I struggle against his magic, I can’t move. I can’t break free from the weight pressing down on my body, and my arms are starting to hurt from trying to force myself up. I need a different approach.
I take a breath and focus. I want to make my feet move. My hands. I want to be free. My feet and legs will move off these mats. My hands will flex and reach toward the sky. I push away the invisible bonds in my head. I hope he’s having fun, because this sucks.
I feel the magic, try to see it and hold on. I’m fighting against Carter’s magic, using his magic and mine. It’s weird. I’m using all my efforts to get free, and it takes more strength than I thought possible. I groan and the back of my head pounds to the ground.
One more try. That’s all I have left.
Hands in the air. Feet on the ground. Legs standing up. Arms outstretched. Hands in the air. Feet on the ground. It replays in my head like a mantra. Three, four, five times before my knees lift from the mat. I gasp-laugh and envision it some more, until I’m standing on slightly wobbly legs. But I’m standing, which is what matters.
Something hits me, a ping of electricity from across the room. I rub a spot on my arm where it pierced my skin. Another one pinches my leg. Another my neck. That’s when I see Carter sitting on the stairwell, pointing his hand at me like a gun.
“Protect yourself.”
“What?”
He jumps off the stairs, slinging a pile of dust with him into the air. “This is an attack.”
I shake my head, but he points his finger again and hits me with another ping. He runs around the room, moving from cover to cover. He hits me again on my ankle. I yell his name, but he shrugs.
“Defend yourself,” he insists. Then he hits me with a jolt of magic that makes me shift forward completely.
Fine! I only toss one shot toward him—which barely nicks his foot—before he’s behind me, his arm snaked around my neck. How does he move so fast?
“Sneak attack,” he whispers in my ear.
His moves are lightning. I’m on the ground again, him on top of me, grinning. My adrenaline is pumping, and I’m angry and frustrated and he’s so close to me that I think my head will explode. Maybe that’s what he’s playing at. I can go along with this and play; I’m not giving up now.
I gain the advantage by flipping him off me. It’s a second-long victory because then he flips up again, fists out toward me. But I’m up, too.
“No shin kicks.”
“Hey, I do what needs to be done,” I say.
He strikes at me, but I
block him. Then I hit him once with magic on his neck. He looks surprised before he counters. We’re a balance, perfectly measured. One attack countered with another. Neither of us is winning.
Then I see the sky from the corner of my eye. It’s that shade of orange right before sunrise, and I wonder what time it is. That’s how I miss his next move, only to end up with my butt against the mat. I stare up at him, both of us breathing hard. There’s a slight smirk on his face. He blinks and his expression disappears, gone almost as quickly as he is from me, moving across the room faster than I can track. Like maybe I’m water and he’s fire and just being near me is dangerous. Like I’m a girl he’s just remembered has cooties.
“You aren’t trying hard enough,” Carter says. His face is unreadable. He’s close enough that I can see the lines on his forehead deepen, but I’m not sure what it means, aside from annoyance, which is completely unreasonable. He’s the one being childish.
“I am trying.”
“You got distracted by the sky,” he says back.
I scowl at him and cross my arms. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“That’s not a good excuse.”
“I have a lot going on,” I say, tossing my hands in the air.
“You’re not alone there,” Carter says, running his hand down the back of his neck. The place where I zapped him earlier is starting to welt. He sighs. “What’s going on?
Where do I start? My family has this secret that I can’t even begin to figure out. My magic is different and I don’t know how to fix it. My best friend won’t even look at me. Demons are everywhere. We have a test in five days, I keep having nightmares and I can’t stop wanting you to kiss me. No. Not that one.
Instead I say, “Have you been looking into what Vassago told you?”
He tenses and gets quiet. I expect a story or a reason, but he doesn’t give one. “Not really. I don’t think it’s worth it. In fact, I’m trying not to think about him. Have you?”
“I keep having these nightmares and he’s telling me to open my eyes. Every night.” I lower myself to sit on one of the steps.
Carter sits beside me, arms draped over his knees. “Why are your eyes closed?”
“They’re not, but he keeps telling me they are and yelling at me to look for the truth.” I shrug, feeling the weight of everything I’ve been trying to find and ignore, crashing down on me. “But I already am.”
“Are you sure? Maybe whatever you’re looking for is right in front of you.” His voice is heavy. The way he says it, like he’s talking from experience, makes me stop. I know his mom left, but has he given up finding answers about her? Has he learned something that made him stop?
I have my own problems.
“We should go meet Ellore,” I say. Carter pulls me up from the step. His hand is warm in mine, and I barely admit to myself that I like it there when he takes it back.
Ellore makes us spend the next four hours practicing magical maneuvers. She’s happier with our progress, but she pushes us even more. “Happiness equals sloppiness.”
Each time his fingers graze any part of my body, every nerve inside me tingles. It puts me off my game, even though Ellore tells us that it’s the best we’ve ever been as a team.
I rush out the door after, because even though we are working together, being near him makes me nervous. Each glance feels like Carter can see through me now, past all the things I don’t like to show. It’s unnerving.
Instead of going home, I drive around in circles for a bit and then go the library. Hyde and Seak are both there, staring at me, but no Poncho.
I’ve read every hit in the database on Azsis from attacks to spottings to speculation now, and this all feels like a really big ball of things that make no sense.
There’s nothing on Alfie Spencer that’s of any consequence, and Emmaline Spencer doesn’t seem to exist at all. I’ve combed through the entire library for information, and even with Poncho’s help, it’s all come up empty. Dead ends.
The only thing left to research is the Restitution Ritual to get my magic back. But without a demon to perform it on, it’s futile. Still, I read from that one book in the library that mentions it, but that sucks too. It’s hard to formulate a plan when you don’t have the key ingredient.
Then there’s Vassago, who pulls up more information and books and legends than anyone combined. I don’t really know what I’m looking for with him. He’s a riddle in and of himself. I’m tired. Of all of this.
I can’t stay here. This isn’t helping.
I write Poncho a note saying I came by and turn to leave, but stop when I hear Carter’s voice, coming through the aisles of books clear as day.
“Poncho, you said there’s no information on Vassago and what—” He stops when he sees me. Poncho comes in, Carter beside him, and both of them look at me, surprised.
“Pen,” Carter starts.
I cross my arms. “I thought you were trying not to think about Vassago.”
“Wait, this isn’t—it’s not what you think, Pen,” he says.
“Then what is it?” He says I’m distracted, but he’s the exact same as me. He tells me to trust him, I let myself think I can let him in, and then he lies. It may not be a big deal to him, but I’m so confused by all this. I feel like I’m standing on the edge and if someone breathes wrong then I’m going to fall over.
His lips form a line, and Carter puts the books down on the table. “Why are you here?”
I shake my head. “I’m looking for the truth, remember? The one you didn’t think was worth it.”
Carter takes a step toward me, I take a step back. The change on his face is instant, from surprised curiosity to hard and angry to exhausted.
“I didn’t say that, exactly.”
Poncho looks between the two of us. “You two know each other?”
“We’re Paired,” I say.
A look crosses Poncho’s face, and he starts to say something, then he walks off without a word. I watch Carter watching him disappear down a stack, Hyde and Seak jumping off the desk and following him. When my phone beeps the same time as Carter’s—the WNN alert again—I take the distraction as an opportunity to leave.
In my car, this song from the Skeller Bones is playing. I miss Ric. He’d totally have some joke right now about all this. Or he’d know what to say to make me feel better. Or he’d say nothing and distract me with something shiny.
I pull my phone out to text him at a red light, but the last six messages I sent glare back at me with no response. I can’t text him again.
My phone beeps and it’s Carter. With a huff, I throw it in my cup holder.
I suck at all things boy.
I don’t want to deal with this now.
I want to pretend, just for one second, that things make sense again.
I want to run.
Chapter Twenty-One
A run had been a terrible idea. I bend over, gasping for air. This shouldn’t have worn me out. I’ve run this path before. Maybe Connie was right about me needing a break. Not that I have time for a break. I stand again, pressing my hands against my hips. I’m panting like a fish out of water. Calm down; take a breath. But each breath gets trapped in my stomach. I lower myself to the ground and count. I feel like crying, and I really have no idea why.
Being a girl sucks.
When I catch my breath I stand again, the sun dimming and lowering around me. Gran and Pop and Connie are probably already on their way to Thomas’s house for a party, but I should get back to my car before it’s dark. I can’t get lost out here without a phone. I take about four steps when I hear it.
A scream.
Followed by the familiar sound of the demon laughter.
My heart races, and I reach for my phone. It’s not on me. Crap. It’s in my jeans, in the car, three miles away. Crap. Crap. Crap.
The CEASE Squad Handbook flashes in my head. Never let them know you’re following. Blend in.
I can’t do anything without
magic. I know I should keep going and ignore this, but that goes against everything I was trained to do. What if that was Connie out there? I’d want someone to save her, even a Static. I’d want someone to try.
I shouldn’t go. I should go to my car.
The scream pierces the air again.
Without another thought I run toward it.
There’s some sort of demon nest in the back of the trail. There are four total, at least that I can see. One is black and scaly, and the others are in human form. I can tell even twenty feet away and from behind some trees that the Nons are dead. Their skin is too yellowed, too thin to be alive. The black demon in its true form drags a girl behind it across the ground. I’m almost certain she’s dead too. If not, she’s in for a lot of pain.
Another demon comes out of the woods and into the small clearing. This is weird. There shouldn’t be a demon gathering in the middle of a public trail like this. Demons work alone, not in packs unless they’re shifters. But these aren’t shifters, only regular old demons. Something big is happening; there’s no way this is normal. I need to get back to my phone and tell the Enforcers.
The new demon, a blue one, drags the Non girl to her feet. She’s alive—has been all along—and my heart drops. She’s not a Non; she’s a witch, because she’s answering whatever it’s asking. No Non could see one of these things, could face it directly, and hold it together. I should help her, and I move to do so, but then I remember I can’t. I don’t have magic. They will get to me before I get to her. My eyes scan the scene, trying to find another way.
“Nothing,” she half yells, half sobs in the black one’s face.
The demon asks something back. The witch girl screams, a blood-curdling sound, then the demon plunges a black dagger into her chest. My hands fly to my mouth as she exhales. There’s this burst of magic—bright and illuminating—that explodes around her like candy from a piñata. I’ve never seen magic do that. They didn’t take her essence for themselves; they released it. The witch falls to her feet and the blue demon slices her neck with a set of claws.
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