Krissa stiffens at my use of the word “we.” I guess I can’t blame her—I’m the one who saved my aunt from dying in a house fire almost twenty years ago. I’m the one who affected the timeline. All Krissa did was cast the spell that took us back in time. She presses her lips together. “Do you really think some things are… fated? No matter what?”
I can’t tell from her tone what her opinion is. “Maybe?” I offer. I guess I haven’t thought much about it myself. “I mean, it kind of seems that way, doesn’t it?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to believe that. In the other reality, my mom died in a car crash, and Jodi… Jodi was cursed. The same curse that killed our principal at the harvest dance. If there are things that are meant to be no matter what, does that mean the three of them are going to die here, too?”
I suck in a breath. I knew Krissa’s mom died in our old reality, of course—that was the reason she came to Clearwater to live with Jodi. But there’s something about Miss Tanner’s death in that timeline, about Jodi’s illness, that I’ve only recently come to understand. At first I thought I was just having nightmares, but then I realized I was experiencing memories. “It was because of Seth,” I murmur. “The curses, I mean. The shard of quartz I wore as a necklace… It connected me to whatever bit of Seth’s soul was still in it. I think that’s why I was so obsessed with finding the crystal in the first place. But I’ve had these…dreams. In them, I can remember a voice in my head—Seth’s voice—when I’m touching Miss Tanner’s hand in the hallway the day you found my necklace, and in Jodi’s shop one day when I was picking up some supplies. He’s chanting—they’re words I don’t understand. And then I can feel this…surge rush out of my hand.”
I hold my breath as I wait for Krissa’s reaction. She stares for a long moment, her face scrunched as if she can’t comprehend the words I’ve spoken. When I’m about to ask if she heard me, she exhales noisily. “You’re telling me Seth was behind the curses? He used you to kill Miss Tanner and curse Jodi?”
I flinch at her bald summary. “Yeah,” I say tentatively.
The corners of her mouth twitch upward. “That’s actually a relief. Part of me has been just waiting for something like that to happen again. But I guess it makes sense now that Jodi was never cursed in this timeline—Seth never had a reason to do it.” She closes her eyes, shaking her head. “If he was aware on some level of what was happening in the outside world in the other reality—and he must’ve been if he used you to cast curses—then it was his plan to push me to help you with the spell to get the crystal from the past. He was manipulating the situation before he ever appeared in our lives.”
A kind of relief and pain mixes on Krissa’s face as she processes this information. Mr. Martin’s voice reaches my ears over the rumble of conversation, and I glance up long enough to catch his grumpy expression as he surveys our class. It looks like he’s not pleased with his decision to become our teacher. Well, that seems in line with what I remember of him from our reality, at least. He turns his attention back to the desk and jabs a thick finger at the open textbook lying there. Mrs. Jennings is wearing the same expression she does when someone tries to explain why they don’t have their assignment—a kind of forced compassion not quite masking an undercurrent of oh-my-goodness-stop-talking.
Krissa’s still unfocused after my admission, and I take the opportunity to direct her attention back to the papers on her desk. “What do you think about this?”
It takes a second before she shakes her head, coming back to herself. “Influence. It sounds familiar, but I don’t know why. Maybe I’ve come across it in the Barnette grimoire.”
The possibility both comforts and alarms me. If she’s seen it in her family’s grimoire, that only lends credence to the possibility of it doing what Sasha claims. Then again, I know she’s been through that book at least once in an attempt to find something to help me, and she’s never mentioned this spell before. “Do you think it’ll work?”
Her attention is back on the pages in front of her. “The spell seems complex—like, really complex. And the power needed is well beyond anything I can do.”
She hasn’t answered my question. “But do you think it’ll get my powers back?”
She purses her lips as she rifles through some of the papers. “Unclear. This doesn’t seem to be a spell for getting lost powers back. Honestly, I’m thinking it’s something that just doesn’t happen. But clearly the intent is to get magic from somewhere for a person to hold inside and use. I just can’t figure out where it’s supposed to be pulling it from.”
I wait for her to go on, but she doesn’t. “Do you think it’ll work?”
She shrugs, meeting my eyes. “I’m not sure. There’s something off about it. I want to do some more research—see if I can figure out why it sounds so familiar.”
I tense. “We don’t really have time for research. In case you forgot, I’ve only got three days left before Kai makes good on his promise. Maybe less. You didn’t see the guy—he’s completely unbalanced. And, Krissa, I don’t think he’ll stop this time. I don’t think he’ll do something just to scare me—I think he’ll actually…” I can’t make myself finish the thought—kill someone.
“I get that,” she says quickly. “But we can’t just jump into this. Like I said, I can’t cast this spell by myself anyway.”
“There’s an eclipse,” I say before she can come up with more reasons not to do it. I bite back my next words at the last moment. I almost tell her Sasha said the event would provide enough power to cast the spell, but I reword my sentence. “Tomorrow. If you can harness the energy of the eclipse, you’ll be able to cast the spell.”
“Maybe,” she says, sounding thoughtful.
Before we can continue, Mr. Martin finally removes himself from behind the desk and trundles after Miss Tanner as she leaves the room. He doesn’t give us so much as a goodbye, but no one seems particularly offended. The door is barely closed when my fellow classmates begin expressing their displeasure at the prospect of Mr. Martin being our teacher for the rest of the year. Mrs. Jennings hushes the dissenters and assures us he’ll be wonderful before transitioning into the day’s lesson.
I don’t get a chance to talk to Krissa about the Influence spell before the end of the hour, and she gives me the folder with all the research when the bell rings. “Don’t you want to hold on to it?”
She shakes her head. “I want to check into it on my own a bit. I think it’s safer with you for now.”
I shove the folder back at her. “You should keep it so you can plan for how to do it.” I’m being forceful and I know it, but Krissa’s reasoning makes no sense. The information isn’t any safer with me than it is with her. I’ve already been over it enough times to be familiar with it. Besides, I’m not the one who’ll be working the spell. If she won’t take it, is it because she doesn’t plan to do it at all?
She gently pushes it back. “I want to see what I can find in my grimoire. Okay?”
Although she inflects the last word like a question, it’s obvious it’s intended more as a warning. I glare at her for a moment before folding the file in my arms. “Okay,” I agree, my voice tight. She nods and starts up the aisle toward the door.
I hate being reliant on someone else for anything, but especially something magic-related. Am I imagining things, or is Krissa more reluctant to cast a spell that would give me magic than she was contacting someone beyond the grave? Why is that? Is it possible she doesn’t want me to have powers back for some reason?
If that’s the case, I’ll have to find someone else who is willing to help.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sasha
My stomach is a nervous knot as I walk up Main Street.
Only a couple of blocks separate my apartment above the bookstore from the coffee shop, and with every step I take, I can’t help wishing there was more space between the two points. Then I’d have more time to prepare, more time to figure out what to do, how
to act, what to say.
I’m meeting Misha at the coffee shop.
It won’t be the first time I’ve seen her since Elliot brought me to ambush her meeting with Anya at Allegro Bread: Anya had us all over for dinner last night. But this will be the first time I’ll be alone with her. When she suggested this outing last night, I agreed because I knew I had to. How would it look if I told her I didn’t want to see her? And I don’t not want to see her—I just have no idea how to interact with her one on one.
I suggested Elliot join us, but he politely declined being my buffer. My sister wanted to spend time alone with me, and he refused to interrupt. He ignored me when I pointed out he’d done that exact thing when we crashed Anya’s meeting with Misha at the restaurant.
Things will be fine. In all the time we’ve spent together so far, Misha’s done nothing to indicate she harbors any ill will toward me for being cast out of the Devoted. She doesn’t really like to talk about it. That makes it hard for me to tell anecdotes of my childhood. I’m sure she has no interest hearing funny memories of our parents, the ones who let her be taken from them. Instead, I make a list of different questions to ask her about her life. Despite the fact I was conditioned to believe the world beyond our community was basically a worthless, steaming pile of uselessness, my time in Clearwater has piqued my interest. I might as well learn what I can. It’s not as if I can go home again, anyway.
The coffee shop’s front windows are painted with colorful flowers and cartoon bunnies, apparently in celebration of it finally being spring. All the shades are drawn against the afternoon sunlight. I take in a breath as I place my hand on the door. This will be fine. I’ll get through it. I may even have some fun.
I allow a little bubble of hope to bloom in my chest. If Misha can put our complicated history behind her, so can I. Maybe we can even move forward. I push open the door and scan the room for her familiar figure. It only takes a moment to find her—she’s so similar in appearance to Anya and me; it’s obvious we’re sisters. Even a casual observer would notice.
But it’s not a casual observer who’s made the connection. My throat goes dry when my eyes land on a second familiar form in the chair across from Misha.
Brody.
My first instinct is to scream—to warn Misha to run or to tell Brody to get away from her. I fight back the urge to do either. The last thing I want is to make a scene.
Misha’s lips are curled in a smile and she’s laughing at something Brody is saying. I take in a few deep breaths in an attempt to slow the rapid cadence of my heart before crossing to the table. I have to get Misha away from Brody somehow. I’m still formulating a plan when she catches sight of me and stands.
“Sasha!” Misha opens her arms wide to embrace me. I step close to her, considering using the opportunity to whisper a warning, but she doesn’t give me the chance. “Brody, this is my sister—the one I was telling you about.” She releases me from the hug and sweeps a hand in his direction. “This is Brody. He saw me sitting alone and decided to keep me company until you got here. Isn’t that sweet? People in small towns are so welcoming.”
I have to force my response around the lump in my throat. “Great.”
Misha doesn’t seem to notice anything off in my tone. “Anyway, Brody, it was so nice to meet you. Thanks for chatting with me.”
He grins, flashing his white, predatory teeth. “No problem at all.” When he turns his eyes to me, there’s a hard edge to them. “Very pleased to meet you, Sasha. I was going to get something. I’d love to keep you company in line.”
His invitation makes my skin crawl, but I don’t dare turn him down. Misha gives me a surreptitious thumbs-up as he brushes past me toward the line at the counter. I try to give a smile, but my face feels frozen, like it might crack under too much pressure.
Brody waits until we’re safely in line, several yards away from Misha, before speaking. “I’m a little hurt you didn’t mention your sister was coming for a visit.” His smile remains in place as he talks, but the hard glint remains, reminding me just how dangerous he is.
“We haven’t been in contact since I was little,” I say quickly. “She’s nothing to me. No abilities. Worthless.” I parrot the words I heard the Devoted say so many times, willing myself to believe them, for them to come out like they’re true.
Brody tilts his head to the side. “All evidence to the contrary.”
“I have to keep up appearances for my other sister,” I say.
“And yet the lovely Anya is nowhere in sight.”
I fist my hands, digging the nails into my palms in an attempt to keep any other part of my body from showing just how angry and scared I am. I want to hit him. I want to do something to show him I’m not some weak girl he can just threaten—but I know doing so would only incur his wrath. Brody’s not in Clearwater alone. He has at least one person with him—perhaps more. In fact, he might have people stationed around the coffee shop now—I don’t know. Too risky to try something here. Besides, how would I explain things to Misha? Elliot already figured out I’m the one who brought the Amaranthine to town. He’s willing to forgive me—so long as I appear to regret my decision. Will Anya accept my apology so readily?
“Leave my family alone,” I say, being sure to keep my voice low. The patron ahead of us has earbuds plugged into his ears, but that’s not to say he couldn’t overhear us if we talk too loudly. “You’ll get your information. I have a plan.”
“A plan? Oh, I love those.” But Brody looks far from amused. “I need results, Sasha.” He hisses my name like a snake. “I’ve given your friend Crystal a deadline.”
I gulp at his emphasis on the first syllable. “As long as it’s after the lunar eclipse, things should be fine. She’ll need its power and then, I promise, she’ll be able to access the information.”
A woman in her thirties clad in yoga pants steps away from the counter and earbud boy strides forward to place his order.
“Your promises mean little to me,” Brody says as we ease into the space vacated by the boy. “Misha would be such an easy mark. It would be so simple to snap her neck, just to prove to you I’m serious. Usually I save the killing for our assassin, but I might make an exception in her case.”
“You don’t need to do that,” I say quickly. “I know how serious you are. I’m sorry you don’t have your information yet. If it were up to me, you’d already have it.”
The smile finally slips from his lips. “You think I don’t understand there’s more going on here than you’re letting on. You didn’t bring me here to help me. Few people are suicidal enough to contact the Amaranthine without immediate intel—and no one has ever approached us asking for nothing in return. Everyone wants something—power, protection. But not you. You intend to keep your hands clean. I understand that desire. But I also know how to take matters into my own hands when it’s warranted. I don’t know if you have that resolve.”
“I do,” I insist, temper flaring. Brody knows nothing about me, about what I’m willing to do to get what I want. He has no idea I once tortured Anya, the sister I now hope to protect—all in Seth’s name and for his sake.
Brody’s lip curls and he leans in close. “Then prove it.”
Earbud boy slips away from the counter just then, and Brody steps out of line, striding straight for the door. Gulping, I advance toward the counter and manage to place my order. By the time I make it back to the table, Misha is grinning like a fool.
“He’s cute. Did he ask for your number?” she asks, leaning forward across the table. Before I can answer, she launches into a description of how he sat down across from her and what they talked about. I do my best to feign interest, but Brody’s presence haunts me like a ghost.
I don’t want to admit it, but maybe Brody’s right. Maybe I haven’t been willing enough to take matters into my own hands. I have my reasons, of course—I can’t seem too eager for Crystal to do the Influence spell or she’ll want to know why. She might even ask sticky questi
ons, like why the Devoted didn’t avail themselves of the spell instead of sending family members away. I don’t know how well I can navigate that without her being able to see right through my lies.
No matter what, Crystal needs to do the Influence spell. With magic, she’ll be able to get the information the Amaranthine need and keep her family—and mine—safe. I’m not concerned with what happens to her after that. Any other consequences will be Krissa’s to deal with.
Now I just have to figure out how to get Crystal to trust me enough to do the spell.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Krissa
I twist my father’s ring around my finger as I carefully leaf through the pages of the Barnette grimoire. I’m supposed to be at work, but my mind’s too big a jumble after talking with Crystal in sixth hour. Devin said she could cover for me for an extra hour and a half before she had to leave for her night class, for which I’m grateful.
Crystal seems intent on doing this Influence spell. She clearly spent a lot of time combing through whatever grimoire she found it in; she’s got all the information I’d need to cast it. Then why hasn’t she mentioned it before now? Any other time she came across something that might help, she immediately texted me and Dana—she didn’t wait until she had a folder full of scanned pages for me to read.
I know Crystal wanted me to take the research, to read over it, to plan out how to work the spell—but I couldn’t do it. Something nags at the back of my mind. I’m sure I’ve seen reference to Influence before. I just can’t remember where.
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