Spell Struck: Book 2 (The Teen Wytche Saga)

by Ariella Moon

  A small pond had formed on the empty driveway. With any luck, Papo had taken the van and left Magdalena alone in the house. If she were out of her physical body and stalking Mr. Castellano, I had a chance of sneaking up on her. But first I leaned against the lamppost and heaved oxygen into my lungs. It took a moment for me to realize the wood smoke choking the air came from the chimney of the foreclosed house. Maybe Kali had returned early from work. Or maybe Papo had lit the fire for Magdalena, which meant she'd be in the living room.

  Got you.

  A shiny silver sedan drove past at a crawl. The driver stared at the spot where the For Sale sign had stood and stopped to consult papers fastened to a clipboard. I stiffened, as still as a deer. The magnetic sign adhered to the driver's door bore the name and tree-shaped logo of a local realty company. Take no notice, I thought. Drive on.

  For several heart-stopping minutes the driver glanced from the clipboard to the house. At one point, he angled his head and peered up at the smoke trickling out of the chimney. Mentally, I tried to reinforce the Don't-See-Us spell. The real estate agent reached for his cell phone. No!

  An SUV came up behind the sedan, forcing the real estate agent to put down his phone and drive off. Several of Papo's oaths sprang to mind. Our Crystal Faire timeframe imploded.

  Before the silver car could return, I opened the side gate and snuck around back. Rain pinged against the metal gutters, covering the crunch of my boots across the gravel. I tried the first slider. It opened with a shove.

  The room at the far end of the hall was hidden from the living room. I removed my squelching boots and proceeded in my wet socks. The chill inside the house seeped through my soaked clothes and into my bones. Some day I will live in a warm place.

  I padded down the hall on tiptoe. My skin vibrated. I read the energy in the house and came up empty. Nothing dense. Nothing foul. But it didn't mean Magdalena wasn't here. It just meant her evil spirit was absent. I pulled my messenger bag off my shoulder and clutched it by my side. A few more steps and I reached the end of the hall and peered around the corner. A figure huddled near the fireplace.

  "Kali!" I called out in a stage whisper. "Is Magdalena here?"

  Kali stood at the sound of my voice and hurried toward me. "No. It was slow at work, so I left to check on you. Everyone was gone. I was so worried."

  "No idea where they went?"

  Kali pulled a threadbare towel out of the garbage bag I used as my suitcase and threw it to me. "None. What's going on?"

  "Papo released me a couple of hours ago. I didn't see Magdalena when I left, but she astral projected and followed me to the library." I toweled off my face and hair, then removed my wet socks and dried my feet.

  Kali tossed me my last pair of clean socks. "Why?"

  "She's desperate. She thinks I know where the Grey Grimoire is. Now she's searching for one of my classmates because she thinks the girl has the spell book."

  "But there is no Grey Grimoire. Magdalena is crazy."

  "Which makes her dangerous." I glanced around. Papo and Magdalena had left their stuff behind, which meant they'd be back. "Gather up your stuff. We need to leave. A real estate agent was snooping around a few minutes ago. By now he's called his boss, and before you know it, the police will be here."

  Kali started stuffing her bedroll and clothes into a black garbage bag. "Where can we go? They took the van."

  "I think I know a place."

  We hoisted our bags over our shoulders like warped versions of Santa and headed for the back room. My boots were cold, wet, and stiff. I cringed shoving my feet into them. My numb fingers fumbled with the broken shoelaces. I finally secured them. We closed the slider behind us and hustled toward the side gate. The rain had eased to light sprinkles, but heavy-looking storm clouds dominated the sky. Dark would come early tonight, but not early enough.

  "We look like burglars," Kali whispered.

  I clasped her arm. "If a car passes us, stand tall. We belong to the Jefferson High Eco Club and we've been out clearing creeks and storm drains. We're carrying trash. We're heroes."

  Kali latched the gate. "Do you think anyone will buy our story?"

  "If we believe it, they will." I herded her up the street, my good ear listening for the van. I didn't want Papo and Magdalena to sneak up behind us. We had almost reached June's house when I spotted the silver sedan headed our way. This time, the real estate agent had a passenger.

  "Don't make eye contact," I warned. We kept walking. I focused on the broken step, one house away.

  The sedan reached us and rolled to a stop. My pulse spiked. I clasped Kali's hand and kept up a steady walk.

  The driver rolled down his window and called out to us. "Isn't there a house for sale on this block?"

  "There was an estate sale up the street," Kali said in her most helpful tone. "I'm not sure if the house is on the market yet."

  The real estate agent consulted his clipboard. "What about the one with the gate?" He pointed to the foreclosed house.

  "Don't know anything about it," I lied.

  Raindrops splattered the papers on the clipboard. "Thanks." The window glided shut and the sedan cruised forward.

  Kali released a long breath. "Where are we going?"

  "The next house. Watch out for the broken step."

  The Yorkies' barking warned of our arrival. June's porch light flashed on and she appeared in the doorway. "Aidan! I was hoping it was you. And who is this beauty?"

  Mitzi and Artemis pressed their little wet paws against my leg. "June, this is my cousin, Kali."

  "Nice to meet you, young lady. Come in. Take off your wet shoes and tell me about those sacks you're carrying."

  "Thanks, June."

  "Nice to meet you," Kali said.

  Embarrassment flamed my cheeks as we deposited our garbage bags in June's immaculate entryway. She ushered us into her cozy, warm kitchen and gestured for us to sit at the table.

  Kali collapsed into the nearest chair and inhaled the onion and garlic scents wafting from a cook pot on the stove.

  "I better stand. My jeans are soaked," I said.

  June eyed me. "You look about the same size as my son, Jì. He left behind his Jefferson High sweatpants and sweatshirts. Too embarrassed to bring them to college. Come, I will find them for you."

  "Thanks, but I can't—"

  "Jì told me to give them to Goodwill. I'd rather give them to you." She pulled a white plastic grocery bag from under the sink then headed down for the hallway. Kali arched her brows at me and angled her head in June's direction.

  The Yorkies trotted at my heels as I followed June to a tidy, trophy-laden bedroom. It appeared Jì had excelled at swimming, water polo, and track while at Jefferson, and his team had competed in the Odyssey of the Mind World Finals. June pulled a grey sweatshirt and sweatpants with Jefferson emblazoned in forest green letters from the polished dresser. Next, she chose dark blue boxer briefs and white crew socks from a center drawer and handed the stack to me. My cheeks heated in a monumental blush.

  "You can change in here. The bag is for your wet clothes."

  "Are you sure Jì won't mind?"

  "I'm his mother." She jerked her head, indicating Jì would answer to her if he dared make a fuss.

  "Then, thanks."

  "You're welcome. One more thing." She went to a linen closet and pulled out a fluffy white towel. "No point putting dry clothes over wet skin."

  "Thanks."

  June nodded. Mitzi and Artemis followed her out the door.

  Every cell in my body longed to collapse on Jì's full-sized bed, crawl under his thick designer comforter, get warm, and sleep for a week. Instead, I tugged the luxurious towel across my half-frozen body. Circulation and warmth returned. Spring-fresh fabric softener filled my nostrils as I pulled the sweatshirt over my head and slid the fleece down over my torso. The memory of Magdalena's viperous energy spurred me on. She had abandoned me for Mr. Castellano. Maybe she'd find Salem through his class grade boo
k, or maybe his Jefferson High student directory. Something.

  I figured her physical body had to be in the van with Papo. But where was the van? Since I couldn't hike all over town looking for it, my best option was to find Salem and protect her. Worry weaseled through me. Where exactly did Salem live? I'd been too distracted by the twins when Tiffany had dropped us off, and it had been dark when Mr. Miller had given me a ride home.

  Lingering wasn't an option. I returned to the cozy kitchen as June placed a bowl of steaming vegetable soup on the table before Kali. My stomach, not satisfied with the pastries, clenched. I compressed my lips to keep from salivating. June carried two more bowls of soup to the table.

  "Sit before you fall," June said.

  My body arched toward the tantalizing food. "I can't. I wish I could. But a friend of mine is in danger, and I need to find her."

  "You look like Jì used to after a marathon — ready to collapse. You can't help your friend if you keel over."

  "It's delicious," Kali added.

  I pulled back the chair. I would just take a couple of sips, enough to keep from insulting June.

  "Where does your friend live?" June asked.

  "I've been to her house once. Somewhere over in the valley." At close range, the soup smelled like salvation.

  "Does she go to Jefferson? Maybe she had a sibling in Jì's class."

  I swallowed the burning soup and fanned my mouth with my hand. "Yes! Did he know Amy Miller?"

  June screwed up her face into an are-you-crazy expression. "Everyone knew Amy Miller. Quite pretty. Star water polo player. Class valedictorian." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I think Jì had a secret crush on her."

  "Do you still have his student directory?" I blew on a spoonful of soup then sipped.

  "It should be in the desk." June crossed the room to a little built-in desk and opened the top drawer. A few seconds later, she withdrew a yellow, spiral-bound directory and flipped to the M listings. "Here's Amy."

  June handed me the book. I scanned down the page until I came to Miller, Amy. Before I could ask, June placed a small pad of paper and a pen next to my soup bowl. I had an address. I had a phone number. Hopefully, it was more than Magdalena had.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Tiffany dropped off Parvani and waved to Mom and me as she backed out of Evie's driveway.

  "Wasn't she in Amy's class?" Mom asked.

  "Yes. Tiff goes to Saint Mary's."

  "Hmm." Mom's features settled into a thoughtful expression.

  "It's a Catholic college," I reminded Mom.

  "And practically in our backyard." Mom fingered the Star of David necklace Dad had given her after she'd converted. I knew she was formulating a pros-and-cons lists. The pros appeared to be winning.

  Evie hunched in the doorway, holding Baby by the collar so the dog couldn't run into the rain. "I better go. Thanks for the ride."

  "Call me tomorrow when you're ready to come home."

  "Will do. Love you."

  "Love you, too."

  I sprinted to the door. "Hey."

  "Hey." Evie peeked up from beneath the brim of her late father's camouflage hat. "Come in. Parvani's gone to claim the spare bed."

  "Mom is thinking about transferring Amy to Saint Mary's."

  Evie's strawberry blond eyebrows arched. "So Amy could live at home?"

  I nodded.

  "This calls for brownies." She hauled in Baby and closed the front door. Soon, Parvani, Evie, and I had convened in Evie's bedroom, which, despite her cleanup efforts, still resembled a tornado's aftermath and smelled faintly of damp dog. I hunkered on Evie's bed and downed two helpings of gluten-free brownies.

  Parvani perched on the spare bed. Her back was so straight I could imagine her in a sequined white leotard and tutu. If an injury hadn't destroyed her ballet career, she'd be rehearsing for The Nutcracker now. Evie sat beside her, positioned as far as possible from the tote containing the spell book.

  I updated them on the recent events. "Amy's in bad shape," I concluded. "And a couple of crazies are after Teen Wytche."

  "Which is actually the Grey Grimoire?" Evie asked.

  "It has to be. I saw Elena's signature. So I need to find a cure for Amy, pronto."

  Evie and Parvani exchanged a long, sideways look. Then Evie picked a piece of invisible lint off the comforter, and Parvani, in her raised-in-London accent, said, "Magic can't—"

  I blinked back tears. "Cure depression. I know. Aidan said the same thing." Exhaustion and frustration bubbled to the surface. "But what else do I have? Nothing."

  They exchanged another glance. Evie slid off the bed and hugged me as if she wanted all her hope and goodness to flow into my veins. "Show us the spell book. Let's see what we can figure out."

  "Okay." I swiped at a tear then dragged the Grey Grimoire from the tote.

  "Wow," Evie said. "The cover looks different."

  "I know. It's some kind of material stretched over a wood board."

  Parvani slid off the bed with her usual balletic grace and peered at the book. "It looks like something out of the British Museum. I wonder how old it is."

  "Pretty old." Even though the heater was on and Evie wore her usual jeans and Cal sweatshirt, she rubbed her arms. "Should we stand back when you open it?"

  "Yeah, maybe. If you want."

  They both scurried back up onto the twin bed. Evie grabbed a purple ruffled pillow and clutched it to her torso. Parvani fisted the comforter. Baby, locked outside in the hall, whined.

  "Baby, shh!" Evie said.

  I stood between the beds, ready to flee. "Behave," I warned the grimoire then flipped back the front cover. When nothing overt happened, Evie climbed off the high bed and gathered next to me. "Oh my! It's a different language. Parvani, look!"

  Parvani eased off the bed, her back straight. She wore an expensive-looking aqua sweater over black leggings. Instead of huddling close, she stood en pointe and stared over our shoulders. "I recognize—" She gasped.

  "Oh no!" Evie surged forward.

  "What?" I had been focused on Parvani.

  "The writing shrank!"

  "No! It was already tiny." I grabbed the Grey Grimoire and angled it toward the ceiling light. The miniscule handwriting flattened into broken horizontal lines. "Stop!"

  "Evie." Parvani took control. "Do you have a magnifying glass?"

  "Mom has one in her studio."

  "Hurry!" Parvani commanded.

  Evie tore out of the bedroom. Baby ran at her heels, barking. I released the grimoire and collapsed on the floor. "It's hopeless!" Worry and lack of sleep shredded my insides, leaving me raw.

  Parvani crouched beside me, smelling of pricey perfume. "Don't give up hope. You know how temperamental Teen Wytche is. We'll get the writing back. It's like when a computer goes haywire and you think you've lost your files."

  "There is no 'Control-Z' on the grimoire."

  "We've brought it back from the dead before. Have faith." She glanced toward the door. Mrs. O'Reilly's art studio was outside, over the garage. I hoped for Evie's sake it wasn't raining.

  She dashed in a few minutes later, apple-cheeked and smelling like fog, a glistening magnifying glass clutched in her hand.

  "Baby, out!" As Evie closed the door, Baby lowered her head. The hurt look in her eyes added another string of guilt to the emotional barbed wire piercing my heart.

  "Any change?" Evie handed Parvani the magnifying glass.

  Parvani held the glass over the page and made a tsk sound. "Shoot."

  "Unreadable?" I swiped my sleeve across my eyes. Tears dampened the fuzzy black sweater. At least I hadn't worn mascara or eyeliner.

  Parvani nodded.

  Evie leaned against the spare bed. "I wish I had never bought the blasted book."

  Parvani stepped around us and paced. "Let's examine the order of events."

  Evie snatched a notebook and pen off her desk and handed them to Parvani. Parvani wrote as she spoke. "Yesterday, when Salem a
nd Aidan were together, the spell book went postal. When the smoke had cleared, the book had transformed into an ancient book with Hindi writing—"

  "What?" Evie and I said simultaneously.

  Parvani adjusted her glasses, clattering her narrow gold bracelets. "Well, I just saw it for a second, and the writing was rather small, but still, a couple of words leapt out. It sure looked like Hindi."

  "Are you sure? What does Hindi look like?"

  Parvani extended her arm and rotated her gold bracelets to reveal engraved Sanskrit-like symbols.

  "What do they say?" I asked.

  "This one is namaste."

  "Like in yoga," Evie said. "'I recognize the divine in you.'"

  "Or, 'I bow to you,'" Parvani said. She pointed to the other bracelets. "Peace. Love. Light."

  "I'm confused," I said. "Why would a gypsy grimoire be written in Hindi?"

  "The lady who sold it to me might have been a gypsy. Well, a stereotypical movie-type gypsy," Evie said.

  Parvani gathered up her long hair and wound it into a low bun. "Actually, they're called Roma because many of them are from Romania. But they are descended from nomads who once lived in India. They speak a variation of Hindi."

  "How do you know these things?" I asked.

  Parvani shrugged. "There are a lot of Roma in the UK. Guess I read about them in newspaper articles. Since my family emigrated from India and speak Hindi, the articles stuck in my mind."

  Parvani handed me the magnifying glass. I flipped through the nearly blank pages, my heart crushed in a vise of disappointment and frustration. "There is almost nothing left," I concluded. "A few dashes, a dot here and there. Otherwise, the writing is all gone."

  "I'm sorry," Evie said.

  "I wish there was someone who could help us," I said.

  "Miss Ravenwood?" Parvani suggested.

  "No!" Evie and I said in unison. "I don't care if she is a witch," Evie added. "We aren't going to an evil math teacher for help."

  "Do you have a better idea?" Parvani asked.

  "Yes, as a matter fact." Lips compressed, Evie reached for the phone.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine