Spell Struck: Book 2 (The Teen Wytche Saga)

by Ariella Moon

  "It's from the baby blanket your Aunt Bronwyn gave you. Your dad thought it should have been blue, but Bronwyn insisted you were a little angel and it had to be white." Mother lifted the ends of the woven cloth. "I made it long, because you're still growing." She looped the bright braid around my wrist and tied the ends together. I dipped my hand down and the bracelet slid to the base of my thumb.

  "If it feels like it's going to fall off, then keep it in your pocket until you grow bigger."

  I blew a long breath out my mouth and glanced around. We had reached the library. I scrambled for the door and reached it just as it began to close. The driver sighed. The door whooshed open. I thudded down the last step and jumped to the curb. After the bus lumbered off in a diesel cloud, Magdalena, invisible and reeking of malice, condensed and flattened against me like a backpack brimming with vipers.

  Cast love at it? No way. Magdalena didn't deserve my love.

  Someone bumped into me, someone real, someone inhabiting her corporeal body. She pushed back a stray blond dreadlock and said, "That is one nasty demon at your back."

  "You can see it?" I zipped up my jacket against the cold.

  "Yeah." She angled her yellow umbrella over me. "Looks like an old lady."

  "It is an old lady. She's astral projecting." The force at my back eased, as if Magdalena had retreated. I sensed her nearby, hovering, spying.

  "Normally I don't get involved. But I don't normally ride the bus either, so I figured I was put on it for a reason." She hitched her woven hippie purse higher on her shoulder. Her thin jacket and long skirt had a worn, thrift-shop vibe. Her scuffed boots squished with each step, which meant rain had seeped into them through holes in the soles. "I noticed you at school last week," she said.

  "You go to Jefferson?" A vague recollection of her swam to the surface.

  "Yep." The rain eased, or maybe it just seemed that way because of the umbrella. We hurried past a towering bronze sculpture depicting a leaning stack of books. We reached the glass doors at the top of the wide concrete stairs. The girl lowered her umbrella and collapsed it. Water ran off its silver point and trailed toward the stairs. "The name's Yemaya." She thrust out her hand. "Shaman. I'm a junior."

  We exchanged a firm, businesslike handshake. "Aidan. Artist. Sophomore. The guy in the seat beside me on the bus told me to raise my vibration and cast light at her."

  "Dude, there was no one on the bus beside you."

  "Yeah, there was. He got off at the last stop. You must have seen him when you changed seats. Older guy with a turban and long gray beard?"

  "I saw you when I moved, but the seat beside you was empty. I almost went back to sit with you, but I changed my mind when I saw the crone."

  I slid my hand beneath my dripping hair and rubbed the back of my neck. We had reached the main room. Welcome warmth from unseen heaters engulfed us. I lowered my voice. "You sure there was no one there?"

  "Completely sure." Yemaya loosened her knitted saffron scarf. "He must have been a spirit guide." Her gaze roamed my face. "Which means my work here is done. Nice to meet you, Aidan-Who-Rides-With-Spirits."

  "Wait." I caught her wrist as she headed for the glass-walled teen room. "Are there any thrift stores around here, or flea markets?"

  "You could try Val's Vintage Clothing. It's farther up Mount Diablo on Brown Avenue. They're open until five."

  "Thanks."

  "You're welcome." Yemaya screwed up her features as if she smelled something rotten. "Now go do whatever your guide told you to do. Your demon is stinking up the place."

  "I'll try."

  Yemaya pushed open the doors to the teen room.

  I detoured to the boys' bathroom and dried what I could with brown paper towels. My half-frozen legs trembled beneath my soaked, stiff pant legs. The mournful growls emanating from my hollow stomach reverberated off the beige tile. I stared at my feverish reflection in the mirror. Don't let Magdalena win.

  The heaters weren't cranked up as high in the technology lab. I wanted to flee back to the main room, find a comfy chair beneath a heating vet, and slip into oblivion. Maybe someone would throw a toasty coat over me.

  The tech librarian frowned down at my trembling hand as I displayed my library card. "Forget your umbrella?"

  "Can't afford one," I confessed.

  Surprise flickered in her eyes. Most of the town kids were rich like Parvani, or middle class like Salem. They had vacation homes and umbrellas to match every outfit, not holes in their boots and demons clawing their back.

  The librarian cleared her throat. "You can use computer number seven. Your session will end in one hour."

  "Yes, ma'am. I know." I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering. "Thank you."

  The computers were laid out back-to-back on two long tables. I dropped hard into the plastic seat and took a moment to steady myself. I couldn't let hunger, thirst, or a case of chills take me out. Not when my problems had thrust Salem into harm's way.

  I found myself seated between a portly, middle-aged guy doing a job search and a bespectacled twenty-something researching string theory. The back of my head tingled. Magdalena. I scooted forward in the chair. Her malignant energy pressed in behind me, staring over my shoulder at the computer screen. To my right, the job seeker half stood and inched his chair away from me.

  I tightened my aura and drummed my fingers next to the keyboard. Salem would have emailed me by now. If I checked my messages, Magdalena would hone in on her. Instead, I keyed in a word search for thrift stores in the area. Val's Vintage Clothing came up. I clicked on it. The website showed the address and a picture of the building. According to the map, it was, as Yemaya had promised, nearby.

  I wondered how long Magdalena could stay disembodied.

  I didn't dare work on Blaming the Brew. I clicked on another thrift store and left its info up on the monitor. It feeds off fear. The same could be said for Papo, so it made sense Magdalena fed off fear, too. She had more smarts than Papo and commanded evil magic. All this time I had been afraid of Papo, when she had been running the show. The thought twisted my insides.

  Raise your vibration. I drew a circle in the air with my nose, then reversed course. I am not Nico, kidnapped street urchin. I am Aidan. This time I didn't conjure up some guy who charmed lunches and free rides. I went inward and found the man my mother had hoped I would become. He appeared to me on a mountaintop, silhouetted against a brilliant blue sky. My energy rose.

  Cast love at it. My thoughts skidded. The mountain disappeared. I flashed again on the hospital, then living on the streets. A weight crushed against my back, behind my heart. Maybe Magdalena had slipped inside my heart chakra and infiltrated my memories, poisoning the love and leaving abandonment, loss, and pain.

  A hand clasped my shoulder. Adrenaline flooded my veins — my reflexes took over. I leapt out of the chair, knocking my knees against the table, and whirled, expecting to see Papo's mocking sneer.

  "Whoa, it's just me." Mr. Castellano, my art teacher, held up his hands in full surrender. "Sorry. I should have announced myself."

  Embarrassment heated my cheeks. The guy doing the job search tossed me a disapproving glance, then abandoned his computer. The librarian glared. I needed to calm the situation before she threw me out. "Man, I'm the one who is sorry." I held out my hand to prove I wasn't a nut case, afraid to be touched.

  Mr. Castellano's shoulders relaxed, and he clasped my hand. His hand was warm and comforting, but the action made me wince.

  "You okay?"

  I rubbed my arm. "I fell off a ladder cleaning out the gutters. It will be fine."

  "You're wet and freezing." Mr. Castellano seemed genuinely concerned. "Did you see a doctor?"

  "No. Don't worry. I will be back sawing pine planks by Monday."

  His expression perked. "Speaking of art class, I was just dropping off flyers for the art showcase." He peeked over my shoulder. "Researching thrift stores?"

  "Yeah. They're a good source for interestin
g and inexpensive items to embellish my art."

  "Found objects. Great idea." His nostrils flared above his bushy mustache. Yemaya had said Magdalena's astral body stunk up the place. I hoped she was kidding.

  Mr. Castellano thrust an orange flyer into my hand. "You and Sarah Miller might find this interesting. The district is holding an art competition for kids fourteen to eighteen. Great cash prizes this year. You two should check it out."

  "We aren't close friends."

  "Oh? I thought I detected a little connection going." His eyes twinkled. The dark energy behind me sparked and surged.

  "Nah, but thanks." Do not go into terror. Magdalena will hone in on your fear and it will lead her straight to Salem. "I'll check it out."

  "Bueno. Sure you are okay?"

  "Absolutely."

  "See you Monday, then." He headed for the door, his shoulders hunching in preparation for the cold.

  When Mr. Castellano disappeared from sight, I returned to the computer and stared at the monitor. Several heartbeats passed before I realized Magdalena's foul energy no longer pressed against me. One of Papo's curses tore from my throat in a loud whisper. I speed-walked to the exit, reading energy, searching for Magdalena's presence.

  Yemaya hustled out of the teen room, fresh vertical grooves etched between her eyes. "Did you feel it?"

  "What?"

  "Your demon quaked the windows when it blasted out of here. Why was it following Mr. Castellano?"

  My heart bottomed out somewhere around my knees. I ran for the door, heedless of the No Running, No Loud Talking signs, and called over my shoulder, "Because it needs him to find the grimoire."

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  "Where are you?" Aidan had said he might not be able to email me. And it was raining hamsters and bullfrogs out there, which would dissuade anyone from schlepping to the library, especially on public transportation. But still… I had the weird feeling he could email me, but for some reason he didn't want to, which just sucked.

  "Face it," I told Einstein. "He's just not into me."

  Einstein trudged over in an uncharacteristic show of support. I petted his head. "Things must be bad if you're being nice to me." I exited the email program and returned to Blaming the Brew. "I hope Aidan likes it," I told Einstein. "'Cause I sent it to him, and he'll see all the spelling errors I missed." I shrank inside, fearing judgment, hating myself for being lousy at something most people took for granted.

  My cell phone rang. "Hey, Evie," I said. "What's up?"

  "Hey, you. Parvani's piano teacher is down with the flu, so Parvani is coming straight from Hindi class. Can you meet in a half-hour?"

  "Sure. No problem. The sooner, the better."

  "Awesome. See you then. Adios."

  "Adios." I ended the call and checked the hall. Amy's door stood half open. A movie soundtrack and popcorn smells wafted from the family room. I pictured Mom and Dad snuggled on the sofa with Amy. Old hurts and jealousy twanged to the surface. Couldn't they have waited until I'd gone to Evie's to exclude me? My frayed nerves snapped. I stalked to the family room, Einstein at my heels, ready to confront my parents and the Golden One.

  "Mom?" She sat alone on the sofa, cocooned like a sick child in a fuzzy blanket. Silver hair glinted at her temples, and her eyes had a faraway look. "What are you watching?"

  "While You Were Sleeping. It came out the year your sister was born." She straightened up and handed me the popcorn bowl.

  "Good times, huh?"

  "It was your father and my last date night before we became parents, so yes."

  "Oh." My anger soured into hurt and guilt. I plucked a few kernels from the bowl and sat down. "I'm sorry we've caused you so much grief."

  "Don't be. It comes with the territory. We swore an oath for better and for worse."

  "Guess you got more 'worse' than you bargained for."

  "It was worth it." I narrowed my eyes and stared at her until she laughed. "Okay," she confessed. "Most of the time it was worth it. Not all of the time. Some days were just a lot harder than others." Mom shrugged. "Speaking of difficulties, I owe you an apology."

  "Why?"

  "For dropping the ball on English. I shouldn't have believed the teachers. You weren't lazy. You were struggling. Dad and I are looking into tutors."

  "But money is tight. Amy's medical bills—"

  "Let your dad and I worry about the bills, including having you tested for a learning disability, if needed. We've already contacted Jewish Family and Children's Services. They have a tutoring program."

  I threw my arms around her in a tight hug. "You're the best."

  When I released her, Mom heaved a big sigh and pressed the pause button on the remote control. Worry floated back into her eyes and etched tiny frown lines around her mouth. "I better go check on Amy."

  "Watch your movie. I'll check on her."

  Mom extricated herself from the sofa. "Thanks, but I want to make sure she took her meds." She tweaked my nose. "Finish your homework so you can go to Evie's."

  "I'm done, which reminds me. Evie just called. Can you drive me to her house in a half-hour instead of at six? I'd walk, but it's pouring." And I don't want to risk the grimoire getting wet.

  "Sure. Earlier works. I'd rather not go out after dark anyway, in this storm."

  "Great. Thanks!" We walked down the hall together. I lingered at my bedroom door and watched Mom. The fuzzy blanket flowed behind her like a superhero's cape. As she approached Amy's door, she straightened her spine and rolled back her shoulders.

  Was this our future? Would every day be a fresh battle, twenty-four/seven, to ensure Amy's survival? Mom put on a good front, but I knew the silver hair was new. And I'd never seen her wish for her pre-parenting days. Never. Ever.

  I closed my bedroom door behind me. Einstein threw me a moist-eyed, please-don't-be-mad-because-I'm-on-your-bed doggie look.

  "Are you supposed to be there?" My tone acknowledged his transgression while signaling he wasn't in too much trouble. Einstein rolled over on his back, sinking into my turquoise comforter.

  "Apology accepted." I slid open my closet door and lowered my voice to a whisper. "Now they realize I have a reading and spelling problem."

  The cockapoo jumped off the bed and pawed the back of my calf as I hauled out my sleeping bag. "Mom and Dad have enough problems. I don't want to be another rock in their burden basket." Sick with guilt, I closed the closet door and reached for Amy's dog.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I had no idea how to stop Magdalena, but I dashed out into the storm anyway. My boots splashed up rainwater as I charged down the stairs past the dripping sculpture of towering books. A quick scan of the lower conference room and the cars parked along First Street revealed no sign of Magdalena's astral body or Mr. Castellano.

  "Dude, he's gone." Yemaya pushed a button on her umbrella handle. With a click, the yellow nylon unfolded. She held it over both of us. "Looks like your demon is gone, too."

  "How do you stop someone from astral projecting?"

  Yemaya tucked her hippie handbag under her arm so the umbrella could protect the woven fabric. "You could cut the silver cord connecting them to their body."

  "Wouldn't that kill them?"

  "Theoretically, yes."

  I pushed my wet hair out of my eyes. "Do you have a less lethal solution?"

  "You could find the person and shake them. It might jar them into returning to their body."

  "Perfect! Thanks. You've been a huge help." I left her at a run.

  "You're welcome!" She shouted something else, but a passing ambulance drowned out her words.

  The bus was nowhere in sight, so I slogged up the hill and made a left on Mount Diablo Boulevard. The fast food smells emanating from the taco place on the corner gurgled my stomach. It had been almost twenty-four hours since my last meal. The cookie didn't count.

  The lack of food and water winded me. Less than two blocks out, dizziness hit. My wet messenger bag became dead weight
and the strap cut into my shoulder. I slowed to a walk and pressed my hand against my side to deaden a sudden stitch. Brain fog clouded my memory. I couldn't remember how many blocks I had left, but I knew it was a lot. A big chain grocery store and an upscale specialty market swam at me from far across the busy, multilane street. There wasn't time to wait for the light. I needed to find something on this side of Mount Diablo before I passed out. A protein bar. A banana. Anything.

  I checked my jeans pocket to make sure I hadn't lost the fifteen dollars. The bills were there, minus bus fare — wet, but present. I shivered past an ice cream store. Ahead, on the corner, stood a coffee house. I wasn't sure if they sold bottled water or anything quick and nutritious, but my other option was a popular sandwich place up the street, and it would be packed.

  I ducked in. A few soccer moms with young kids and some Saint Mary's College students occupied the few tables. A couple of business types awaited their orders at the back of the store. No line. Score.

  I wanted something hot, something to thaw my insides and bring feeling back into my fingers. But I couldn't gulp a scalding drink or run with one in my hand. I needed to move. "A slice of banana nut loaf and a blueberry muffin to go," I told the girl behind the counter. "And can I get a glass of water?"

  The clerk appraised my drowned rat appearance and threw me an are-you-sure look before saying, "No problem." She organized my sodden bills so they faced the same way, then counted back my change. Eons passed before she handed me my order.

  "Thanks." I tore out the door, chugging the water. The banana bread disappeared before the walk signal chimed. I inhaled the muffin as I passed the town's seedy bar. By the end of the next block, the water, carbs, and sugars revived me, and I started to jog.

  Cars became scarce once I left the main street and headed up Dewing toward the foreclosed house. Soon, all I heard were my footfalls splashing the pavement, my bag thudding against my hip, and the rain pelting trees and parked cars. The stitch returned like an arrow in my side. I pressed my hand against it and slowed my pace. Two more blocks…