They’re done giving me a break. Now I have to prove I made the right call founding my lonely team of one.
“Wishing you had joined the charmers yet?” Fillan sneers, but I don’t have to react.
Seff punches his twin’s shoulder for me. “Shut up.” He casts a meaningful look at me. “You’ll always have a spot with the wolves if you want it.”
“Keep it in your pants, bro.” Fillan elbows him and skips on ahead.
“Thanks,” I say to Seff, my cheeks too warm for comfort. “But I’ve got a feeling I need to do this on my own.”
That’s a lie, of course. The only feeling I know right now is dread, slowly twisting my insides.
“I’m not only talking about dodgeball.” Seff’s expression makes me struggle to reel in the exasperation.
I sigh. “For the last time, Seff. I do not intend to bind my own banshee’s circle. Otherwise, I promise you’d be my top choice for a wolf.”
He smiles darkly. “You don’t intend to. That doesn’t mean you won’t do it.”
Anxiety and guilt pulsate through me. Seff’s nostrils wiggle as if he can sniff it on me. Perhaps he already has, but before either of us can say a word, Awan falls into step beside me.
“Ready for your first game?”
I wish everyone would stop asking that. “More or less.”
Nerves creep up inside me once we enter the gym. Charity and five other charmers are already in their semblance of uniforms—identical purple tees and gray tennis skirts for the girls and gray shorts for the two boys.
I didn’t bother with a uniform—as I’m alone, no one can tell anyway. I wear a pair of gray tights and a simple white t-shirt, a little baggier than I’d normally go for, but under so many eyes, I’d feel too exposed in something tight.
I fix my curls into a messy knot right on top of my head while all Elmwick Academy students take their seats on the benches on either side of the pitch.
Awan tests the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is almost time for the weekend.” He pauses for the jubilant cries of our classmates. “But before we take a well-deserved break, we have a real treat today. The long-awaited debut appearance of Cami, our one and only banshee, who has decided to play alone, representing her rare legacy. Give her a hand!”
The applause only makes me more nervous as I step onto the pitch. Loudest amongst the shouts accompanying everyone’s clapping are the wolfish howls. In spite of myself, I smile a little.
Awan introduces the charmer’s team, and that twinkle of amusement in me fades. They take positions, sprinkled around their side of the field, making me feel pitifully alone on my end.
Still, I put my most dauntless expression forward. If Mom could flip two police cars onto their sides with a single scream, I should be able to wreak some havoc myself. After all, I’ve claimed my powers now.
Rubbing my fingers together, I draw in a lengthy inhale. As soon as Awan blows the whistle, I scream.
Although I haven’t had enough time to perfect targeting a scream without using my hands, it works out reasonably well. The sound wave condenses, like a rope, and flicks out, slamming against five of the charmers.
They stagger back, enraged looks on their faces, but I’m already sprinting to the dead zone to grab a ball. Inches from it, my fingers bump into a shield that sparks in purple.
A loud Ooooh sounds from the crowd. I scream again, this time guiding the sound wave with my hands. It pushes the charmers back so they can’t reach their ball, but with my hands occupied, neither can I.
“Strongly defensive game here,” Awan comments on the loudspeaker. “It’s a race to the first attack.”
My neck slicks in sweat as I struggle to produce new screams and spread them out to keep all six charmers at bay. Painfully, I realize I’ll have to let some of them go to grab the ball. Or to run back and throw it.
On my next scream, I motion with one hand to send a sound wave at all charmers in the left side of the pitch. With my right hand, I snatch my ball and dash backward.
As soon as I’ve made it to the line, I produce another scream and throw the ball. The sound wave whips the ball up and sends it toward one player with perfect aim. The charmer I’ve targeted pulls up a shield, but my sonic blast blows through it, making the girl wobble back before the ball hits her.
“Bang! And that’s how it’s done.” Awan’s voice thunders in my ears. “The banshee strikes first, showing us she’s an opponent to watch out for. You go, girl.”
But Charity and the two boys have all grabbed a ball. The boys throw, one and then the other, making me issue two small screams, which block the balls from reaching me. Charity holds on to her ball as the seconds trickle.
I’m too late to see their play. Three purple shields envelop me, one on top of the other—each generated by a charmer girl without a ball in her hands. I scream as hard as I can, blowing out all air from my lungs to break through the purple haze around me.
I’m only faintly aware that Charity throws her ball at me with a second to spare. I’m all out of breath and too shocked to move. The ball hits me, leaving a burning mark on my thigh.
The crowd lets out a swooping Oooh, then cheers for the charmers.
My face burns red as I look down at my sneakers. I’ve made it all but two minutes in this game. And I lost, not because I’m weaker than them, but because I was alone against an entire team.
To their credit, all the charmers, even the girl I eliminated come and high five me.
“Good game,” Vanessa comes by to gloat. “All two minutess of it.”
I turn to make a face at her, but as I take in her cursing, dark eyes, a daring thought slips into my mind. Any retort I was about to make fizzles out, provoking an expectant look from Vanessa.
“What are you doing this weekend?” I ask before I can change my mind.
The noisy crowd around us still cheers for the charmers, but it turns into a muffled background noise.
Vanessa almost chokes on her breath. “What? Why?” Any behavior other than bickering seems unfathomable to her.
“I thought we’d hang out.” The calm and collected way I regard her is pushing all her buttons, I can tell.
“As if. I’m not a lapdog for you like Jean.” But she ponders my words, then leans in, finally having gathered what this might be regarding. “You don’t mean...?”
I won’t confirm or deny anything. Not when dangling the prospect of the circle in front of her is enough of an incentive.
“Meet me in front of Seff’s house tomorrow morning and see for yourself. Oh, and bring a change of clothes.”
The trap is set, its hungry mouth yawning wide open.
Vanessa throws a cautious look on either side. “You’d better be for real.”
I only smile. “Ten am. Don’t be late.”
Vanessa stares at me, challenge in her eyes, but I whirl on my heels and leave.
And the trap snaps closed.
Chapter 6. Mason
DESPITE THE USUAL TIPTOEING Father and I do around the topic, I waste no time scribbling a note to him that spares nothing.
Bryar is on the trail. She’s gone after Jean. I’ll bring her back.
A bubble of spite bursts inside me at the thought of him reading the message. He deserves it. If he won’t be open about things after all that’s already happened, I’ll keep shoving my knowledge down his throat. And I’ll protect my sister, even if he won’t.
I pack a change of clothes and the wooden stake I keep under my bed into my backpack, then visit Mom’s lair. Everything purple goes in the bag—a crossbow, vervain darts and serum, as well as a vervain grenade.
Without a second look back, I storm out and head straight to Town Square. The Hawk’s Clinic is brightly lit in the twilight haze.
The peal of a bell announces my entry. Awan’s grandma is behind the welcome counter, hair fixed in her usual two braids which fall close on the sides of her face.
She’s scribbling into her ledger, then peer
s at me over her reading glasses. “Awan has more work to do. They just brought in two foxes that need their cuts stitched.”
“I need to talk to him,” I plead my case under her chastising look. “It won’t take long.”
She presses a button on the intercom. “Your Fowler friend is here.”
“Let him in,” Awan says, then he changes tone, speaking to his unruly fox patient by the sound of it. “Stupid thing! Just hold still!”
“Mind your tongue or I’ll wash your mouth with soap,” Awan’s grandma yells, but I turn down the corridor to the exam room.
I find Awan hunched over the exam table, holding a fluffy red fox still. “I’m trying to help, you goofball!” He throws a glance over his shoulder at me. “What are you doing here? We’re supposed to meet later at Charity’s place.”
Despite the brief conversation we had at school today, he’s back to the new frosty normal between us. A bit too frosty for comfort.
The split-second distraction is enough to make him loosen his grip, causing the fox to almost slip out of his hands. Awan growls as he adjusts his grip.
“Your grandma seems as cheerful as always.” It’s something we would have joked about before. I guess I’m trying to predispose us both, to make us feel like we’re friends again.
“Did you come here to joke like old times? I thought we didn’t do that anymore. Not that it was my idea. I never minded us being friends, even though you’re a hunter.” Awan strokes the fox in a slow, calming tempo to show the poor creature that it’s safe with him.
The sting of guilt shows up as a flinch on my face. I can’t get into all this right now—my Father’s warning, the thin line I’m walking with the other hunters, the doubts that eat me up inside. All that matters right now is Bryar, who’s likely hiking her way up to danger as we speak.
“You’re right. I’ve taken a step back, can’t explain why, but right now we’ve got bigger problems. Forget about the plan we had with Charity,” I say. “It’s too late, and now I really need your help.” It’s out of the blue and I don’t deserve it, but I wouldn’t have come to him if I didn’t think he’d still help me.
The fox quiets down so Awan doesn’t have to hold it anymore. He reaches for a bottle of ointment and treats a deep scratch on the animal’s side. “Go on.”
“Bryar’s gone after Jean,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice calm so as not to distress his furry patient. “I need your help to protect her.”
“Mace, don’t be thick,” Awan says. “Bryar won’t know where to find Jean any more than you would. She couldn’t have gone after her.”
I throw him a look of exasperation but don’t dare to elaborate while his attention is on the fox. “Let’s talk to Charity. Please.”
“I’ve got to finish in here first.” Awan tilts his head toward a cage with a second fox inside.
The little pup has a similar scratch on his hind leg. I reach for the cage, but the fox squirms away in fear.
“Hold your horses, Mace,” Awan says. “I’m almost done.”
I try to resist tapping my foot while Awan finishes patching up the first fox, then helps the second one. Once they’re finally back in their cage, calmer and much sweeter in their disposition, I have no doubts that Awan’s legacy played a role here.
He washes up in a hurry, and we head back to the counter with innocent expressions, reminding me of old times.
“All done,” Awan says to his grandma. “Gotta go now, Granny.”
Her eyes flick from Awan to me and back as she evaluates us, no doubt sensing we’re up to something. If she thought before that I don’t know about Awan’s powers, she must doubt it very much now.
Awan pushes me out the door, letting the bell clink as the only sound of our goodbye.
As we rush through the streets, I explain to him Bryar’s behavior from today. “I thought she needed a charm to drop this, but that won’t do. She’s gone.”
I see the struggle in his hooded, dark eyes. “There’s no way she knows where to go.”
“And I see you’re reluctant to tell me, too.” I glare at him, despite how comforting it feels to have him on my side again.
“Trust me,” Awan says. “Bryar will be back. She’s probably out, venting, skipping school.”
I wish I could believe that, but Bryar’s tense and stubborn behavior from yesterday makes me unsure.
When we reach Charity’s house, Awan runs his hand through his black hair. It’s shiny and impossible to style when it’s so short. I smirk at him—a wordless nudge that makes him smile slightly as he knocks on the door.
Charity appears almost instantly. Even in tights and a baggy cardigan, fallen off her right shoulder, she resembles a Victoria Secret angel—eyelashes thick, eyes lined in dark brown and bronze accentuating her cheeks.
“You’re early.” She pushes her cardigan up to cover her shoulder. “Come in.”
We enter, inhaling the sweet scent of cinnamon and vanilla.
“Sorry,” Awan says. “Mace has gotten it into his head that Bryar—”
He cuts off when we enter the living room and spot Rosy, sprawled on the couch and watching cartoons.
She straightens up immediately, her cheeks slightly flushed as her eyes take us in. She hits pause, and the TV freezes on a frame from the cartoon. “What about Bryar?”
“Nothing,” Charity says. “She seems to be on the legacies’ trail, so I’ll be doing a charm to sway her. And, as always, you’ll be keeping your mouth shut.”
Rosy sticks out her tongue at her older sister. “Is that why she’s going around asking about Jester’s Castle?”
“Rosy!” Charity scolds while Awan cringes and adds, “And the cat’s out of the bag.”
“What?” Rosy glances at me. “Oh, right. You didn’t know where Jean was banished to, did you?”
But I don’t intend to waste any time now that I have a lead. “Where is this castle?”
“It’s about an eight-hour hike from here,” Charity says. “But neither you nor Bryar can go there. A notorious society of cold ones lives there.”
My blood chills. “We need to go get Bryar immediately.”
“Hold on, hold on.” Awan raises both his hands, palms facing us for emphasis. “How did she know about the castle at all? Rosy?”
Rosy scratches her chin, but a nudging look from Charity makes her elaborate. “I saw her his morning. Thought she was going to school. I was taking your stinky sneakers out on the porch.” She sulks at Charity, who flushes red at once. “Bryar stopped by to chat, said she was curious when Jean would be back. I told her that I don’t think Jester would let her leave his castle anytime soon.”
“Nooo!” Charity gasps and sighs in a small whimper. “You gave away the location.”
“Not really,” Rosy argues back. “She seemed to know Jean was being kept somewhere close, anyway. The castle is the only construction for miles. Plus, I didn’t give her directions or anything.”
“Yes, but she might be stubborn enough to go out there looking for the castle on her own.” I wish my sister had a teaspoon more common sense and a gallon less stubbornness. “We need to go get her. Who knows what... things might get her out there?”
Awan and Charity share a look, hesitating.
“Well, I’m going after her,” I say when my patience runs dry. “I’ll follow her trail as if she were game if I have to, but I’m not letting my sister wander about in a forest full of vampires at night.”
That finally kicks them into gear.
“The protector will track her easier.” Awan nods. “I’m coming with you.” His determination is everything, and I try to ignore the stab of guilt poking inside me.
Charity looks from Awan to her sister and back. “You’ll need a shield as well.” Then she regards her sister. “Rosy, stay in until grandma comes back.”
“I’m thirteen, not three,” Rosy protests. “I think I’ll manage half an hour home alone without setting the house on fire.”
Charity peers down at her as if to emphasize this is no laughing matter.
“I’ll be good, I promise,” Rosy mutters in resignation.
That brightens up Charity’s expression. “All right. Then off we go.”
She packs bundles of herbs as well as some clothes and what looks like a yoga mat. At our wide-eyed looks, she exclaims. “In case we need to sleep outside.”
Awan and I shrug, sharing a smirk that reminds me of old times. There’s no denying he’ll see this as a great opportunity to charm her.
We take the path between my house and Jean’s, which leads us into the forest. Once we take cover under the pine trees, Awan brings out his protector. It matters little that I’ve seen him do it before. The bronze cat is in no way less impressive than the first time I met... him, I guess?
With glowing amber eyes, Awan stares at the cat as if communicating with it. Then the transparent, sparkling beast heads off into the woods, darting between the trees.
“He’s picking up Bryar’s trail,” Awan says. “Don’t worry, mate. She’s probably wandering aimlessly somewhere nearby.”
Charity purses her lips, looking unconvinced, but she wades through the spring shrubbery after us. We walk in a file—Awan, I, and Charity. That is if you don’t count the bronze cat zipping up ahead and only halting to wait for us from time to time.
“Does he...” I hesitate, but curiosity wins. “Does he talk inside your head, or how does it work?”
“It’s not direct speech.” Awan doesn’t seem to mind the question. “But I get the message as a feeling. It’s hard to explain. Bottom line is I can make him understand what I need, and he can send information back to me. And his opinions. He’s cranky today.”
“Why?”
Awan strides ahead faster. “Because of you.”
I follow him, almost running to catch up. My foot brushes against the thick roots of a nearby tree, but I don’t trip. “What did I do to him?”
“You held him at gunpoint.” Awan sounds amused, though. “He’s still a little testy about that.” He whirls around and halts in the shadow of a large tree, waiting for Charity to join us. “Are you all right?” he asks once she’s caught up to us.
Suspension (Elmwick Academy Book 2) Page 4
