by Dodge, Lola
Blair’s magic whisked over me. When she pulled it back, the little twitch between her eye and cheek confirmed my guesses.
“Her energy feels like she’s a necromancer, but…”
“But you know whose necromancy opened her to this.”
“Mine.” Blair’s nose crinkled. “My bad. Sorry, Anise.”
I sat up on the slab. This wasn’t a lie-down conversation. “I would’ve died if you hadn’t done…whatever you did. I just need to know how to fix it.”
“Wellllllll…” Blair’s tone circled up to the ceiling with her gaze.
Peggy folded her arms. “There’s no fix. What Blair did was hold your spirit between life and death when it should’ve passed over. We’re all grateful she was able to save your life, but keeping a witch at the border has consequences. For you, that seems to mean lingering death magic snarling with your natural energy.”
“But you said it’s not permanent…” How did we switch from “not permanent” to “no fix” in the space of a few breaths? I clenched the stone slab, trying to ignore the hope bleeding from the bullet hole in my soul.
“It can’t be cured in the way you’re hoping.” Peggy shelved the half-glare she’d been giving Blair and sat next to me at the foot of the slab. She didn’t hug me or offer a shoulder to cry on or anything, but her tone softened enough that I could tell she was trying to comfort me. It worked enough to keep me from hyperventilating with dread. “It’s a snarl. Your power’s so mixed up with death magic, your body’s being tricked into acting like you’re a necromancer. But seeing as you’re not a necromancer, you can’t easily work with this kind of energy. That leaves you two choices. You can give the power an outlet, practicing and controlling it until it fades, or you can wait for it to dissipate.”
“Wait how long?” Months? My stomach roiled. Please, not years.
Peggy shook her head. “No way of knowing.”
“Why now? I was fine until the past few days…” Kind of. I’d been fine when I fought Seth, and all the time after Blair saved me from that house fire. Had I done something to bring the death magic onto myself?
“This energy was seeded in you,” Peggy said. “Now it’s bearing fruit.”
The idea that I’d been carrying this energy around not knowing it made me feel half stupid and half queasy. “What do you mean give the power an outlet?”
Because I was not raising any zombies.
Blair clicked her tongue. “I could take you out to the cemetery and show you a few things.”
Nope. No way was I doing any magic that had to happen at a graveyard. “I think I’m going to wait this out.” Even if it took months for my body to clear itself out, better months without magic than months messing with ghosts and corpses.
In the meantime, I could keep researching cleansing spells because there had to be a third option.
“That may be for the best.” Peggy’s diamond-hard gaze turned to her daughter. “Blair will take responsibility for her actions and help you however you need.”
“Yup.” Blair pointed to herself with two thumbs. “I’m very responsible.”
I didn’t roll my eyes in front of her mom. If Blair hadn’t saved my life, I would’ve been a whole lot more annoyed. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“Live,” Peggy said. “Dance, kiss, love, and don’t fixate on what’s wrong. If you can be passionately yourself, death will never hold sway over you.”
She made the solution sound easy enough—if slightly like a motivational poster.
But I danced like a plank, had no one to kiss, and was about to be cut off from the thing I loved most.
No baking cakes when my magic was soaked with death.
Three
We had a quiet car ride home after I broke the news to Agatha and Wynn. All of us were lost in our own thoughts, Agatha drumming fingers against the steering wheel, and Wynn glaring lasers at the back of my neck. I kept my hands pressed firmly under my legs, just in case my death magic started acting up.
It hadn’t done that yet—it only turned into a problem when I actually used my powers—but who knew? I wasn’t assuming anything about life with death magic. Now that I was sure what was happening inside me, it was like bony fingers squeezed my heart.
When we reached the driveway, Agatha peeled off to check on the shop. Wynn followed me upstairs, but I slammed my bedroom door closed behind me before I could see where he posted up.
There was a cat on my bed.
Marshmallow white with grape-candy-colored eyes, Fondant sat on the lavender quilt, tail snaking back and forth. She wasn’t giving off any magic and hadn’t shredded my clothes yet, but that could change fast.
I froze. “Can I help you?”
Fondant leaped from the bed and padded to sit at my feet. I clenched my teeth, wishing I’d worn sneakers to protect my toes from claws. My sandals left open too much skin.
Instead of attacking, Fondant delicately sniffed—first my left foot, then the right. A low rumble built in her chest. Not a purr. More like wasps about to swarm.
I curled in my toes, wondering what I’d done to piss her off this time.
After a few endless seconds, the door clicked open. Fondant butted through my ankles, letting herself out.
Wynn held his sword, warily watching Fondant pad down the hallway. I closed and locked the door.
Flopping onto my bed, I let out a heavy sigh.
Magic cats set me on edge.
I had no idea what magic Fondant was capable of and no way of finding out. No two familiars had the same set of powers and no smart witch would blab her familiar’s abilities.
Putting her out of my mind, I grabbed my phone to dial Mom. The line rang long enough that I thought she wouldn’t answer.
Finally, she picked up. “I’m here! Sorry, sweetie. Just got off work. How are you?”
“I’m—” A jackhammer sounded through the line. “Mom? Where are you?”
“Leaving the site. I’m bartending tonight.”
The site? I jerked upright. “You’re not working construction.”
“I hold a big sign all day. Much easier money than bookkeeping.”
More jackhammering rang in the background and bounced between my ears because I couldn’t process what she was saying. “It’s October. In New York.” And my mother was out in the freezing cold while crazy drivers zoomed past her, probably on black ice. I was supposed to be the kid, but I felt like I was the one who’d failed her. “Why?”
I knew the answer. She needed the money after I ran off. It was bad enough I wasn’t there to help her pay for the car or rent or groceries, but I’d left her with the mess of a burned-down fairground and questions from the cops.
“Don’t worry about me, sweetie.” Her voice was disturbingly calm. “Tell me how things have been in Taos.”
I wanted to spill. I’d told Mom all my problems up until now. But when I thought about dumping this death magic thing on her, my jaw locked up.
It would make me feel better to let loose, but guilt had crawled up under my ribs and was inflating black balloons in there. I couldn’t give her more worries. “Fondant visited my room without destroying anything. I think she likes me now.”
“Ugh.” The sound came from deep in her throat. “That cat is the moodiest thing. But ‘cat’ is a loose word for it anyway. Fondant’s been with Agatha more than fifty years.”
“Ugh.” I made the exact same sound as Mom. “I locked the door.”
“How are the girls?”
“Mine or yours?” The daughters of her childhood best friends—Peggy Wu and Vanessa Salessario—were slowly becoming my best friends, too.
“Both.” The smile in her voice carried through the line. “I’m so glad you connected with them.”
“Everyone’s good. I’m doing something with Blair and Gabi tomorrow.” Or, I assumed we still were? I’d have to text Blair and see if she wanted to cancel our plans because of rogue death magic.
My lips parted,
wanting to slip the truth to Mom, but I bit down the words.
My problems were my own.
We chatted about nothing in particular until Mom had to clock in for her next job. “Call me again tomorrow?”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you too. Be safe, sweetie.”
A double dose of guilt hit my conscience. She’d be disappointed that I was holding back when I needed to vent, but I couldn’t do it, even if it meant suffering alone.
I couldn’t talk things out with Agatha, either. Not that she wouldn’t listen, but my aunt was more hard truth than tough love, and I didn’t know her well enough.
And Wynn? He’d stare me down with that killer anger/disdain glare he’d patented before offering as many as five words telling me to leave him alone.
Instead, I messaged Blair and Gabi. Are we still doing something tomorrow?
Blair’s instant response vibrated my phone. We’re living life. Want to go shopping?
I read her message a few times before it processed. Shopping? Is that a good idea?
Gabi answered next. Can we hit Santa Fe? I need supplies from the big pet store and a few other places.
I hadn’t left Taos since arriving—other than that one bad trip down the gorge—but maybe it would be good to get away from the vortex for a few hours? It had to be amping up the bad energy in my magic.
I’ll drive as long as we can do more than look at kibble. Blair texted back. You in, Anise?
The other option would be sitting at home reading, which was honestly what I’d usually choose. But no way would I be able to focus on books. I needed to talk to someone or I’d go crazy, and I finally had the kind of friends who’d understand why it sucked to have wonky witchcraft.
I wasn’t alone.
I’m in.
We met at Blair’s in the morning. It was cool, but not frigid cold yet, so I walked, pretending Wynn wasn’t stalking behind me. The good thing about hanging with Blair was that he’d blend in with her bodyguards.
Gabi was already waiting. She leaned against an SUV wearing jeans and a sunny yellow sweater, pouring over a shopping list the length of a drugstore receipt with five million coupons attached.
“Morning, Anise. Wynn.” She shot us a smile that matched her sweater.
“Morning.” I leaned against the car next to her. “What do you need to pick up?”
“Just a few things.” She offered over the list. “We order most of the clinic supplies in bulk, but we always end up needing odds and ends.”
I skimmed the items and frowned on a few of the odder ones. “Dinosaur nuggets?”
“For the rabbits.”
The rabbits? “Huh?”
Gabi chuckled. “I forgot you haven’t been to the clinic yet. The winged rabbits? They love chicken nuggets, but they’ll only eat the dinosaur-shaped ones. Weird animals.”
“Oh.” I was three steps behind just wondering why rabbits ate chickens. Meanwhile, her rabbits could fly. “And the bolt of black silk?”
“For the battle crow. She’s been refusing gauze for her wing bandages.”
“Right.” I really had to visit her family’s cryptid clinic one of these days.
“Almost ready,” Blair called out from the house before I could ask Gabi why she needed poker chips and a sack of sweet potatoes. Or where we were going that sold all these things.
Blair pushed two Servants out the house’s side door. “Just have to remind my brother that he wasn’t invited.”
“Bradley can come,” Gabi called.
“No, he can’t. He has to work at the shop.” Blair moved to block the door, but her brother pushed through.
“Hi, Gab.” He had the same dark hair and eyes as Blair, but he worked a lot harder than his sister at looking good. Bradley’s pop-star grin pointed straight at Gabi and his whole face lit up when he saw her.
“Hi, Bradley.” Gabi grinned back, but it was just a smile and not a smile like his. Did she really not notice? I glanced between them and caught Blair’s gaze. She did a head shake/eye roll.
Wow.
Why would Gabi say no to Bradley Wu?
“Go. Back. In.” Blair punctuated each word with a shove and finally managed to jam her brother back into the house. “We ready?” She twirled a set of keys around her finger on the way to the SUV.
“Ready,” Gabi said. “And I’ll treat you both to sopapillas at lunch if you don’t mind taking me around on all my weird errands. We’re going to the diner on the plaza, right?”
“That’s not negotiable.” Blair opened the side door. “I’ve been craving their chai.”
Blair’s main Servants took the front seats. One middle-aged woman and one younger with a long ponytail, both wearing pantsuits today instead of their usual sweat suits. Thankfully, there were only two instead of the army of them we’d needed when we were in danger.
Shopping was only a danger to my bank account.
Not that I’d be buying anything. The twenty in my wallet would pay for lunch, and then I’d be back to my natural state of brokeness.
Being Agatha’s apprentice gave me a lot of perks but no salary.
Not that I was complaining.
When my training was finished, I’d be ready to open my own magic bakery. I’d be happy eating ramen every day for the next decade for the chance to bring my biggest dream to life.
Blair banished Wynn to the back row of seats while the three of us got comfortable in the first row. Wynn was already snoozing by the time we hit the first stoplight.
If I ignored the zombies and my bodyguard, this trip was straight out of another of my craziest dream sequences—I had friends.
Gabi and Blair did most of the talking and laughing, but I chipped in often enough that I felt included. When we passed the tire-skids and flattened grass marking the spot where Wynn and I had flown off the road not too long ago, my heart hopped into my throat, but a few deep breaths and a few car lengths made everything normal again.
When we finally popped out from the gorge’s cliffs and river, my head felt emptier, with less pressure on my ears. Less altitude. And less magical pressure. The magical hum of the vortex still nestled at the base of my skull, but it was way less insistent than it was in town.
I let out a relieved breath. Gabi was rubbing her arms.
“How often do you get away from the vortex?” I asked, already sensing the answer in the way she was fidgeting.
“Not very often,” Gabi said. “I’ve never been farther than Albuquerque. It’s too uncomfortable having such weak magic.” She shuddered. “I don’t know how witches live like this.”
I’d survived, but never thrived outside. Taos had dangers, but for the most part, it was a witchy, wonderful bubble and being farther from the vortex wasn’t what worried me about re-entering the real world. People were way harder to deal with than the lack of magic. “I wouldn’t want to go back to life outside.”
“I’m not sure I’d mind.” Blair pressed a hand to the window, and her sleeve slid down, revealing an armful of crystal bead bracelets strung with shiny black tourmaline for psychic protection.
Being a necromancer meant communing with spirits, but it had never clicked with me that the dead bothered her all the time. Thankfully, spirit apparitions didn’t seem to be a side-effect of my death magic problem.
When Santa Fe’s buildings started filling up our windows, Blair checked her phone. “Food first? I’m already starving.”
“Food first.” Gabi nodded.
Blair’s Servant threw on the turn signal. When we parked at the plaza, the first nerves prickled my arms. Tourists packed the sidewalks, clustering around the tables and blankets where Native artists sold jewelry and carvings and art prints.
Crowds were not my favorite.
Not even crowds of witches. These were crowds of normal people.
Blair made a charge to the diner, pushing through anyone in the way. We were in-between breakfast and lunch, but even at the off hour, every booth an
d table was packed.
I stepped from foot to foot in front of the hostess stand, looking out over a dining room filled with screaming kids and bustling busboys. Nothing looked weird, but that creepy spotlight feeling pointed in my direction, pushing, pounding, pulverizing my ability to do anything but shrink.
It was a feeling from my not-so-long-ago past life. That throat-closing, cheeks-boiling, they-know-you’re-a witch feeling that split my feet in two directions.
Half freeze, half flee.
These people didn’t know what we were.
They couldn’t know.
But my throat still scrunched up like bent wire.
They couldn’t know echoed down the abandoned alleys of my brain. How many times had I told myself they couldn’t know?
At school. At the movies. At the grocery store, taking out the trash when three wide-shouldered, wannabe witch hunters had cornered me. Cornered me and backed me up against a dumpster that reeked of fish.
Witch.
I’d never known you could ram so many razors into a human word.
She’s a witch, witch, witch.
No matter what I did or how I hid, they always saw the truth. It didn’t matter who they were. It didn’t matter where they were.
The spotlight never lied.
Freeze? Or flee?
The hostess grabbed her stack of menus and I made my choice. I could freeze and still keep moving, but I struggle-stepped to the table behind my friends and bodyguards.
Their feet moved normal.
Heel-toe, heel-toe.
The spotlight only captured me.
When I sat, I tucked my hands guiltily under my thighs. I wasn’t wearing any charms for once, but only because Peggy had kept my jewelry, fearing the enchantments on my rings and earrings would conflict with the death magic.
Blair drummed her fingers against the table without a thought, flashing pentagrams and crystal bracelets for all to see. I glanced from table to table, checking to see if anyone had noticed, but all the families and groups of tourists were focused on their plates and conversations.
The knot in my stomach loosened a little, but the uneasy feeling stuck to my bones. I dropped my voice. “You should hide your charms.”
“No one’s going to look that close.” Blair sent a glare around the restaurant, almost daring them to try.
