Wicked Cool (The Spellspinners)

by Diane Farr

  We were touching, so I felt it on many levels. It was almost as if I were doing it myself, although I swear I had nothing to do with it.

  Power shot up from the earth, pulled by Lance’s will. It entered him through the soles of his feet and flashed through him. I felt it like a jolt of electricity running down his arm and out his fingertips. His hair lifted as if it were blown by a gust of wind. And then it was over.

  My heart raced in time with his. I tingled from head to toe. “What did you do?” I whispered.

  “Ssh,” he said again. More gently this time. And we waited, listening. I probed his mind to learn what we were listening for, and pulled up an image of Meg.

  Shock froze me. And then I saw her. She was standing at the bend of the creek, not fifty yards from us. She looked even smaller than usual.

  She looked lonely.

  And then she turned and wandered away, back up the creek bank and off down the meadow path. There’s a path that runs past the Chapman property to the creek, and that’s where she was walking.

  Had she been looking for me? For Lance?

  “She didn’t see us,” I said.

  “She saw us,” said Lance. “But she didn’t recognize us.”

  I raised an eyebrow, and Lance answered my unspoken question. “To her, we looked like part of the log.”

  So that’s why we left Spellhaven with such headlong speed. I buried my face in my hands. I felt really, really bad. I hate keeping secrets from Meg. It’s so unfair.

  On the other hand, did I want Meg to see me all cuddled up with Lance, with his arm around me? Noooo.

  This whole situation totally chews.

  Something occurred to me and I lifted my head. “Hey. The invisibility thing. That’s why you sent your power out, right?”

  “Sure. But we weren’t really invisible. We were just cloaked. Not to us, to her. And not just to her. We would have looked the same to any stick. It’s an old Faerie trick. They call it a ‘glamour.’”

  “Yeah, but—do we still look like part of the log?” I tried again, because he looked puzzled. “If Meg were still here, would we still look like part of the log to her?”

  “Of course. You’d have to shut up, though, or she’d hear you.”

  “Yes, but—what I mean is—can you control it? When you cloak us, do we stay cloaked? If Meg had hung around, would we suddenly have become visible again whether you wanted us to or not?”

  His surprise was genuine. “Heck no.”

  I pulled his arm off me and sighed. I guess that answered that. Lance is definitely more powerful than I am. I didn’t want him touching me while I thought about that, because he would have seen exactly how it makes me feel. And it doesn’t make me feel good.

  Still, I thought it was time to confess. Much as I hated to do it.

  “See, if I had tried it, it would have worked, but ... I couldn’t have controlled it. For one thing, I would never have thought of cooking up a glamour, or whatever you call it. So I would have made us actually invisible. Totally invisible. And we might have stayed invisible for ten minutes or for ten hours. Or maybe a week. Or just ... whenever.”

  One of his eyebrows lifted. “Wow. That sucks.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “So I guess my question is, can that be fixed? Can I learn how to ... how to spin smarter spells, or stronger spells, or—or something?”

  I tried to reach into his thoughts, but he was blocking me. Clue Number One, in case I needed it, that Lance is not entirely on my side. “I dunno,” he said.

  And here’s what gives me hope: I think he may have been lying. Because why else would he block me?

  And why does that give me hope? Easy. Because if he was lying, that means that there probably is a way to fix my little staying-power problem. Which means that there is a way for me to become more powerful.

  And you know what? Even if Lance Donovan doesn’t intend to teach it to me, just knowing that a way is out there, somewhere, is good enough for now. Since I’m not sure I want to be more powerful.

  If I ever decide that I do want to be more powerful ... well, I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

  It’s just nice to think that there is, in fact, a bridge. Somewhere.

  I must be reading the signs right, because Lance not only blocked me, he quickly changed the subject. “This actually demonstrates what I meant about watersight being dangerous,” he said. “I shouldn’t have taken you so far in, on your first try. But watersight was the only way to show you the skatching stones. We couldn’t try skatching, since we’re not sure you’ve been there.”

  I stretched my legs out in front of me and rocked my butt around a little bit. It’s hard to get comfy on a log. “Okay,” I said, resigned. “I may as well learn what I can. If we’re sure Meg’s not coming back, go ahead. Tell me about skatching stones.”

  “Forty-nine stones,” he said. “Forty-nine spellspinners. One stone for each spellspinner. The number has never changed.”

  “For how long?”

  “We don’t know.”

  I stared at him. “Really?”

  “Really. We don’t keep written records, and I guess we never have. So we don’t know how long spellspinners have been around, or where we came from, or how it all started. For all I know, it’s been this way from the beginning of time. Forty-nine spellspinners. Always.”

  A chill went down my back. “Not ... not the same spellspinners.”

  “No,” he said. A contemptuous little smile twisted his mouth. “We’re mortal. Sorry.”

  I blushed. And I hated him for making me blush. “So we’re human after all.”

  “Sure. As far as we know.” He looked solemn. “At some point, the lines diverged. We don’t know whether the sticks used to have powers and lost them, or whether we suddenly acquired powers that regular humans never had. Whatever. Out of all humanity, there are only forty-nine of us. And it’s been that way for as long as we know.” Until now.

  I wasn’t supposed to hear that. But I did.

  “Until now? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Ooh, that annoyed him. He immediately shut down. I couldn’t read his thoughts at all. And all he said was, “You ask the wrong questions. Ask me why they’re called skatching stones.”

  “Yeah? I don’t need to ask that. Because I know you’re going to tell me.” I was starting to get mad. “I’m more interested in the stuff you don’t want to tell me. So tell me. Why forty-nine? And what’s different now? You always block me out just when things get interesting.”

  His eyes glittered like green poison. “You’re not ready. If I let you see everything I know, you’ll run from me again. You’ll run like a scared little girl.”

  Okay, now I was mad.

  “You think you’re so tough. You think you’re so superior.” I stood up and brushed off my capris. “Fine. I don’t care. Keep it to yourself. Keep it all to yourself. Sit out here and be Mr. Mystery to your heart’s content. Impress the frogs.” I started to walk away, then stopped and swung back to meet his gaze again. I fisted my hands on my hips. “And you know what? You’re lying half the time. I don’t know what your reasons are, but I know you don’t tell me the truth. And I’m sick of it.”

  He was off that log in a flash. I hadn’t taken two steps when I felt his fingers close around my wrist. His anger burned into me as he pulled me back around to face him. “Zara,” he hissed. His face was inches from mine. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

  He wasn’t kidding. Terror shot through me as I sensed how close to the edge he was. Have I mentioned that Lance is dangerous?

  Normally I’m shorter than he is, but I had started up the embankment when he caught me, so I was a step higher. This put us practically nose-to-nose. And then, predictably, my too-pretty shoes wobbled underneath me and I stumbled. I pitched right into his arms and he caught me, imprisoning me. And there we were, chest to chest. Face to face. He still had my wrist. He twisted my arm up behind my back. I couldn’t
move.

  I couldn’t move ... and Lance didn’t want to.

  The boundaries between us dissolved at our touch, but the conflict remained.

  His anger, his power. And now, his desire.

  My fear. My resistance.

  Emotions swelled and crashed and roared. We braced against the tide as wave after wave pulled us this way and that. It was hard to breathe. We were drowning in each other’s eyes. Reduced to words, our clash could be expressed very simply:

  Lance: Surrender.

  Zara: No.

  But a million little nuances in between complicated matters. Like, his surrender contained tiny undercurrents of please? It also contained a big dose of or else. And as for my no, it was strong and steady—but even I could perceive the tiny stirrings of maybe underneath it.

  And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

  “I don’t like getting jerked around.”

  “Neither do I.”

  Brilliant. We don’t like getting jerked around. As if anybody does.

  “Look,” I said. “I promised you a day. If you want a second day, you’d better make sure I’m a happy camper. Let go of me.”

  The fingers around my wrist loosened just a fraction. But he still had his arm around my back, imprisoning me. I wasn’t about to struggle; I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I held my ground and waited.

  “You need to be nicer to me, Zara.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You need to be a lot nicer.” And a lot more afraid.

  “Let. Go. Of. Me.” I mean it.

  I didn’t actually expect him to let go, but he did. I took a couple of steps backward, uphill and out of reach. I rubbed some feeling back into my wrist. “Much better.” I flipped my hair back over my shoulder and shoved my right foot more securely into my slide. “Let’s start over, shall we? You tell me whatever it is you want to tell me, and I’ll shut up and listen.”

  “That’ll be the day.”

  “Oh, ha, ha. Just get it over with.”

  “Are you going to be nice?”

  “I’m always nice.”

  I picked my way carefully back to the creek bank. They don’t call them ‘slides’ for nothing. “You were telling me about the forty-nine skatching stones. Well? Go ahead.”

  “Okay.” He sounded surly, but the moment of danger had passed. For now, anyway. “Each spellspinner has one. We don’t step on each other’s stones. We don’t block them in any way. They’re kept clear at all times.”

  I wanted to ask why, but I couldn’t. I had just finished telling him I would shut up and listen. He heard me anyway and shot me an exasperated look. “Because they’re skatching stones. A safe place to skatch to.”

  “Oh.” It was kind of a let-down, to tell you the truth.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. I just thought a skatching stone was some kind of magical thingamabob. You know, something cool. A stone that gives you the power to skatch.”

  Holy cow. Something powerful ripped through Lance’s mind when I said that. Something he didn’t want me to see. I caught a glimpse, barely, as he whisked it out of sight.

  Colors. A bunch of bright colors. Especially purple. Yellow. And green??

  What the—??

  It’s not fair that he can block me so much better than I can block him.

  Meanwhile, he was going on as if nothing had happened. “Well, that’s not far wrong. Your skatching stone gives you the power to skatch in a hurry. Without getting hurt, and without hurting anybody else, and without being seen.”

  He had succeeded in distracting me. But not enlightening me. “Huh?”

  He sighed at my ignorance. “If you skatch somewhere where somebody else is standing, one of you gets knocked down. And even though it’s usually the stick that gets knocked down, it’s not a pleasant experience. It feels like you’ve been kicked by a mule. But nobody will ever be standing on your skatching stone. So your skatching stone is the one place in the world where you are guaranteed safety. If there’s ever an emergency, and you have to get out of where you are in a hurry, there’s one safe place you can always skatch to. The sticks won’t see you pop out of nowhere, and nothing will be in your way.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t ask why spellspinners needed a safe place, or what kind of emergencies we could land ourselves in. I didn’t need to. I was picking up images from Lance, swirling impressions of darkness and danger and horror.

  I know nothing about spellspinner history, specifically, but I know something about human history. Enough to make sense of the images Lance was thinking of. I could almost hear the crackle of the flames and the screams of the tortured. I could almost smell the smoke and the blood.

  Suddenly I didn’t feel as smart-alecky as I had a minute ago. “Oh,” I said again. No wonder they call it Spellhaven.

  He nodded. “You can get there even if you’re injured. Even if you’re barely conscious. Your skatching stone will always be there, waiting. Clear and safe. And it’s also the easiest place to skatch to because it’s the strongest place for you, the place where your magic is most powerful. Because it’s the first place you ever were.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning that you were born there.”

  I blinked. “Born on a stone?”

  “Right. It’s easy to skatch to because it’s the very first place you appeared. The first place imprinted on your DNA or whatever.”

  We were standing side by side. Lance picked up a flat pebble and skipped it across the surface of the creek. Since the water was pretty much stagnant, it worked. I watched him in silence, trying to make sense of what he had just told me. He glanced sideways at me. “What’s bothering you now?”

  “Um,” I said. “Spellspinners are born in the usual way, right?”

  “Sure. Seven months’s gestation instead of nine, but yeah. The usual way.”

  “Well, excuse me, but giving birth on a stone? In the middle of the freakin’ woods?” I shuddered. “It sounds ... medieval.”

  He almost laughed. “It’s probably much older than that.”

  “I bet. We’re talkin’ dinosaur days. I mean, tradition is great and everything, but for crying out loud. All things in moderation, you know? This is the twenty-first century. Or was, the last time I looked.”

  He shot me that sly grin of his. “Come on. It’s a beautiful thing. The birth of a spellspinner is a very big deal. It doesn’t happen often, so when it does, there’s like a huge gathering and a big, solemn ceremony and feasting and all kinds of stuff. Or so I’m told.”

  “You haven’t been to one?”

  “No.”

  I was getting an odd vibe from Lance. I looked at him, trying to read him more clearly. His eyes were luminous, glowing apple-green in the dappled light beneath the trees. A strange little smile played with the edges of his mouth. “It’s been seventeen years since the last birth feast,” he said.

  I may not be a math wiz, but I can add two and two. Suddenly my mouth went dry.

  I swallowed. Hard. “Then ...that means ...” I took a deep breath. “The last spellspinner born at Spellhaven was you.”

  He nodded. “As far as we know. Like I told you, you should have been to Spellhaven, even if you don’t remember it. You should have been born there. But …” He shrugged, palms up.

  A dragonfly skittered across the gap between the trees. A breeze rattled the leaves over our heads, scattering the light around us like flower petals. I could hear my heartbeat.

  Who am I? Oh, please. Somebody. Anybody. Tell me. Who am I?

  Lance heard, of course, and answered. His voice sounded a million miles away.

  “Zara, I’m the forty-ninth spellspinner. We don’t know who you are.”

  14

  I think I lost my mind for a minute. I hardly remember what happened next. All I know is, I started running—scrambling up the embankment and stumbling out into the meadow, where I was blinded by the sudden onslaught of sunlight. I was sort of panting, or sobbing or som
ething. I don’t know what. But my shoes slipped out from under me and I fell in the tall grass. That’s where Lance caught me.

  He hauled me half upright and shook me. Not hard, but my hair tumbled into my face. It stuck to my cheeks, so I guess I was crying. I kept saying, “No, no, no.” So he shook me again.

  “Get a grip.”

  “I c-can’t.” My teeth were chattering.

  “Yes, you can. Get up.” He pulled me to my feet. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Don’t you GET IT?” I shoved at his shoulders—hard—and he staggered back a step. I’m not sure why I was furious at Lance, but I was. I guess I had to get angry. Otherwise I’d fall to pieces again. “I thought you were going to tell me who I am. I thought that was part of the DEAL.”

  “What deal?” He was getting mad right back at me.

  “The spellspinner deal.” I raked my hair back off my face, letting it fall down my back where it belongs. “I thought you knew everything. I thought that was why you came. To c-clue me in.”

  He looked disgusted. “You’re so emotional.”

  “Of course I’m EMOTIONAL.” I was shaking with cold, despite the blazing sun. “Lance, I don’t know who I am. Nonny doesn’t know who I am. Nobody knows who I am. But I thought you knew. And now it turns out you don’t.”

  “You’re a spellspinner.”

  “That’s what I am. That’s not who I am. Where did I come from, Lance? Who are my parents? Do I have a family?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll tell you this much. Whoever created you broke the rules. And when the Council finds out who did it, they’re toast.”

  “Council?! What the—” I grabbed my head with both hands. “I don’t need a day with you, Lance. I need a year. And I definitely should be taking notes.”

  “Well, let’s get out of here at least. We spend too much time in this freaking meadow.”

  “Okay. Okay. But I—I—I can’t skatch right now.” I took a deep breath. “I can’t concentrate. I can’t think straight. We’ll have to walk.”

  “No problem. Skatching’s dangerous in broad daylight.” He started toward the road. I slowed him down, some, because I had to be careful in my stupid, too-pretty shoes. Plus I was still shaky. I was getting too much information, too fast. And feeling too many emotions, one right after the other.