Firespell

by Chloe Neill

  “Thank you,” he said. “You saved our butts today. We appreciate that, especially since your last visit to the enclave wasn’t very pleasant.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think Smith and Katie liked me very much. And they definitely aren’t going to like me now. Not after this.”

  “Like it or not, you’re one of us, so I guess they’ll get used to you.”

  “I guess,” I said with a shrug. “The bigger question is, can I get used to it? Can my parents”—wherever, whoever they were—“get used to it?”

  “My parents did,” he said. “Get used to it, I mean.”

  I glanced over. “They got used to the idea that you’re a werewolf?”

  He gave me a sly, sideways glance. “Yes,” he admitted. “They got used to that. But it’s hereditary, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when I started howling at the moon.”

  “They knew, and they sent you to Montclare anyway?”

  He nodded. “Montclare was better for everyone.”

  “Why?”

  “The principal knows what I am,” he said. “He’s a friend of my parents’—grew up with my mother. They shared my secret with him so that someone would understand how to deal with me if something happened.”

  “If you went all Teen Wolf, you mean?”

  He grinned at me, his ridiculously blue eyes tripping my heart. “You say what’s on your mind, don’t you, Parker? I like that.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You have to stop flirting with me, Shepherd, or we’re never going to get anything done.”

  “Flirting? You’re the one who’s getting me all riled up.”

  “Oh, please. You’re all, ‘Here, Lily, have some candy.’ It’s obvious who’s flirting here.”

  “Then maybe I should kiss you.”

  I blinked, my cheeks suddenly on fire. “Oh. Well. If you think that’s best.”

  He smiled softly, then leaned in toward me, smoke over sapphires as his lashes fell. I closed my eyes, blocking out the world around us, my heart pounding as he almost pressed his lips to mine.

  “Well, well.”

  Did I mention the “almost”? I mentally cursed my best friend before we jerked apart and sat up straight. Scout stood in front of us, one hand on Michael’s shoulder, looking a little better than she had a few minutes ago. The water and few minutes of rest in Michael’s company must have helped. And if anyone could summon up a little spirit and energy after a round of soul sucking, it was Scout.

  “I assume I’m not interrupting anything?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Jason mumbled.

  I snickered and gave him a gentle elbow to the ribs. “You’re fine,” I told Scout. “We were just taking a break.”

  “I can see that,” she said. “We’re ready to hike back, if you want to join us.”

  Jason turned back and offered me a hand.

  “I think I can manage,” I said.

  “Whatever you need, Parker,” he said, offering me a dimple-laced smile.

  I had an unfortunate inkling that I knew what that was.

  The air in the enclave was thick with tension when we arrived. Katie and Smith weren’t thrilled that we’d walked out on them, but they were happy to see Scout. They seemed considerably less happy to see me, and gave me dirty looks as we sat around the table and Michael, Jason, and Scout detailed our adventure.

  As it turned out, the message Scout received said that an Adept had been hurt. Scout didn’t say which Adept, but given her glances in Michael’s direction, I reached my own conclusion. She’d gone back to her room to put up her books and prepare for a trip into the tunnels; that’s when they grabbed her. There had been two Reapers, probably college age, but not people she recognized. She had no idea how they’d gotten into the school, but they’d been dressed, she said, like maintenance men— complete with badges and name tags. They’d already tossed her room when she arrived.

  “Why you?” Michael asked, eyebrows furrowed. “If they were looking for a double shot of power, they could have chosen any of us.”

  Scout dropped her hand, outstretched both of them, and stared at her fingertips. “I think it has something to do with my power,” she said, then clenched her hands into fists and raised her gaze to us again. “They kept talking about spellbinders and spellcasters, about the differences between them.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t understand most of it. I mean, ‘spellcaster’ is a made- for-television word as far as I’m aware, not an actual description of power. I’ll have to check the Grimoire , see what I can find.”

  “Are you sure you still have it?” I asked. “What if they took it when they went through your stuff?”

  Scout grinned widely. “What kind of spellbinder would I be if my Grimoire looked like a giant book o’ magic? Remember that comic book I showed you the other day?”

  “Ah,” I said, understanding dawning. “That’s sneaky and impressive.” She winked back.

  “What happened after they grabbed you?” Smith asked, with more concern in his voice than I would have given him credit for.

  Scout’s voice got softer as she retold that part of her tale, and she gripped my hand as tightly as she had in the sanctuary itself. The Reapers had used siphoning spells to begin the process of ripping away her energy, her will. They’d dispersed to deal with Jason’s distraction, and that’s when we’d found her.

  Jason and Michael replayed their respective parts of the story, the room quieting again when Michael told them I’d used firespell to subdue the Adepts.

  But Smith and Katie still looked unconvinced. They apparently didn’t buy that I had magic, much less that particular kind of magic.

  “It’s not possible,” Smith said, shaking his head. “A shot of magic, firespell or otherwise, can’t transfer magic to someone else. That’s not the way it works.”

  “You’re right,” Scout said, “but that’s not what happened.” She pulled a folded sheet of paper from the pocket of her skirt, then spread it flat on the table. “I’ve done some research. It turns out, there have been a handful of gifted folks whose magic wasn’t obvious until something happened, until some act triggered their power.”

  “So it doesn’t just develop on its own,” Jill put in, “like you’d normally expect?”

  Scout nodded. “Right. Lily didn’t get the magic at puberty, unlike the rest of us. It’s more like the magic is latent, in hiding, until something comes along and kicks it into gear. And once it’s kicked, it’s usually pretty big.”

  “What do you mean ‘usually’?” Smith asked, brows furrowed together.

  “Lily’s not the first,” Scout said. “There’s an entire line of Contingency Adepts. Twelve of them. Half of them have power magic—the ability to wield electricity.”

  “Power,” I quietly repeated. “That’s why I can dim the lights?”

  Scout nodded. “Exactly. And like I told you, that’s what firespell’s made of.”

  “Well, that sounds okay,” I said. I wasn’t sure I was thrilled to be an Adept, but there was something comforting about knowing what had happened. I mean, the whole thing was only barely believable, but in the context in which I was currently working—and having shot magic from my fingertips—it was comforting.

  But as I scanned the faces around me, which suddenly looked a little peaked, I guessed they weren’t as comforted. “Except everybody looks weird. Why does everybody look weird?”

  “There aren’t any firespell Adepts,” Jason said, “at least not that we’re aware of. They have an uncanny willingness to stay with the herd.”

  “To stay evil,” I clarified dryly, and he nodded.

  “And there is the other catch,” Scout said.

  “Wait,” I said, holding up a hand. “Let me guess. Using this newfound power will slowly make me more and more evil, until there’s nothing left of me but a cold, crusty shell of emptiness and despair. Lovely!”

  “But we’ve all got to deal with that,” Paul said with a grin.

  “I
mean, there is a benefit,” Scout said. “You have a pretty kick-ass power, and you’re obvs the only Adept with firespell, so that’s awesome for us. You’re a solid addition to the team.”

  I lifted my brows. “A solid weapon, you mean?”

  “A solid shield,” Michael said, his voice quiet and serious. “And we can use you.”

  “Whoa,” Smith said, slicking the hair down over his forehead. “Let’s not get too excited. So-called contingency magic or not, she’s still not one of us. She’s not an enclave member until we run things past the supervisors.”

  I leaned in toward Scout. “Supervisors?”

  “The folks with authority,” Scout said. “They keep to themselves, and we get their dictates through charming members of the Varsity squad. Lucky us.”

  “And because of that,” Smith said, “there’s nothing more we can do tonight. I’m going to make a call to see if another enclave is willing to babysit our targets tonight. Head back home. We’ll be in touch.”

  Not taking no for an answer, he went for the door, six Adepts and one not-quite Adept behind him, heading off to bed before another routine day of classes, and another routine night of battling evil across the city.

  Scout yawned hugely, her eyes blinking sleepily when the spasm passed. “I’m about done,” she said, then slid an arm through mine after I’d returned her messenger bag and she’d situated it. “Let’s go home.”

  “We should get back, too,” Jason said, then glanced warmly at me. “You take care, Parker.”

  “I always do, Shepherd.”

  He winked; then he and Michael set off down the tunnels. Jamie and Jill and Paul said their goodbyes, but Scout and I stood in front of the door for a moment. She looked over at me, then enveloped me in a gigantic hug.

  “You came after me.”

  “You’re my new best friend,” I said, hugging her back.

  “Yeah, I know, but still. Weren’t you scared witless?”

  “Completely. But you’re Scout. I told you I’d be there for you, and I was.”

  Scout released me, then wiped tears from beneath her eyes. Catharsis, I guessed. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—you seriously rock, Parker.”

  “Tell me again, Green,” I said as we switched on flashlights and headed through the tunnel.

  “Seriously, you rock.”

  “One more time.”

  “Don’t press your luck.”

  It was late when Scout and I returned to St. Sophia’s, but while she showered and headed to her room for some much-needed sleep (under Lesley’s watchful eye), I plucked my cell phone from her bag and headed out on one last journey I wasn’t entirely excited about taking.

  Have you ever been in a car or on a walk, and all of a sudden you look up, and trees and blocks have passed you by? When you end up in a spot, but you don’t remember much of how you got there? I found myself, a few minutes later, staring at the tidy gold letters on Foley’s door. Light seeped beneath it despite the late hour.

  I lifted a hand, knocked, and when Foley called my name, walked inside. She stood at the window, still in her suit, a porcelain teacup cradled in her hands. She glanced back at me, one eyebrow arched. “Ms. Green?”

  “She’s fine. She’s back in her room.”

  Foley closed her eyes and let out a breath of obvious relief. “Thank God for small favors.” After a moment, she opened her eyes, then moved to her desk and placed the teacup on the desktop. “I assume you’re now interested in discussing your parents?”

  I rubbed my arms and nodded.

  “I see,” she said, then pulled out her chair and lowered herself into it. She motioned toward the chairs in front of her desk. I shook my head and stayed where I was. It wasn’t stubbornness; my knees were shaking, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it over there without tripping.

  “As you know,” she said, “your parents are very intelligent people. They are currently working to resolve a somewhat, shall we say, awkward problem. That work has taken them to Europe. I have a personal interest in that work, which is why we’re acquainted.”

  When she suddenly stopped talking, I stared at her for a few seconds, waiting for elaboration. But I got nothing more. “That’s all? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

  “That’s more than your parents told you,” she pointed out. “Are you asking me to trump a decision made by your parents? Or, more important, have you decided that your need to know trumps their decision not to tell you?”

  That made me snap my lips closed again. “I don’t know.”

  This time, I really did take a seat, slinking down into a chair and staring at the desktop. I finally raised my eyes to Foley’s. “They’re okay, right? Because they’re really hard to get in touch with, and their phone keeps cutting out.”

  “Your parents are safe and sound,” she said, her voice softer now. “For now. You might consider, Ms. Parker, the possibility that they are safe, in part, because of the current status quo. Because you are safe and sound in this institution, and suspicions are not being raised. Because uncomfortable questions aren’t being asked. Because,” she added after a moment, lifting her eyes to mine, “the members of a certain dark elite are not aware of where they are, what they’re doing, or where you’ve been placed in their absence.”

  My heart filled my throat. “They know about the dark elite? About the magic?”

  Foley shook her head. “Unfortunately, that is a question I can’t directly answer.”

  My head was spinning and my patience had finally worn thin. “Whatever,” I threw out, then stood up and pushed back my chair. “I’ll just ask them myself.”

  My hand was on the office doorknob before she spoke again.

  “Is it worth the risk?”

  I wet my lips.

  “Your trust has been shaken, Lily. I realize that.” I glanced back at her. “But if you search your soul, your memories, and you decide that your parents love you, perhaps you’ll be willing to give them the benefit of the doubt on this one. You might realize that if they didn’t give you all the details of their work, of their lives together, they had a very good reason for it. That the consequences of your knowing might not be worth the risks you’d be creating. The risk to you. The risk to your parents.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “And when do I get the benefit of the doubt?”

  She smiled, slowly. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

  When I was back in the suite, I checked in on Scout. She was snoring peacefully in Lesley’s room, and Lesley was curled up on a sleeping bag at the foot of the bed. I quietly closed the door and slipped into my room, then closed and locked it behind me. I grabbed my cell phone from the top of my bookshelf, sat down on my bed, and dialed.

  It took two tries for my phone to actually make a connection to my parents. The third time, my mom answered.

  “Lily?” There was a pause, maybe while my mom scanned a clock. “Are you okay?”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it again, tears suddenly welling in my eyes. I wanted to yell at her, scream at her . . . and tell her that I loved her. I wanted to rail against her and my dad for not telling me the truth, whatever it was, for holding back so much from me. I wanted to tell her about my classes, about Scout, about the brat pack, about Jason, about firespell. About the fact that I had magic, power that flowed from my hands.

  But maybe Foley was right. Maybe it was dangerous. Maybe their safety—our safety—was somehow dependent on my pretending to be an average high school kid.

  Maybe there were more important considerations than Lily Parker getting a chance to throw a tantrum.

  “I’m fine,” I finally said. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

  Smith kept his promise to keep in touch, but it was still two days before Scout got paged again. We walked together into the tunnels, headed for the enclave, the mood very different than the last time we’d taken that walk. Nevertheless, Enclave Three was still quiet when we entered.

  Ev
eryone was there. Michael, Jason, Paul, and the twins chatted together. Katie and Smith stood at the edge of the room, unhappy expressions on their faces.

  “What’s going on?” Scout asked when we reached the knot of JV Adepts.

  Jamie and Jill shrugged simultaneously. “No clue.”

  Smith, a supersnug long-sleeved plaid shirt and skinny jeans all but pasted to his thin frame, opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the door creaked open. Our gazes snapped to the doorway.

  A guy stepped inside. Tall, blondish, and well built, he had blue eyes, a dimpled chin, and strong features. He wore a snug U of C T-shirt and dark jeans over brown boots.

  “Yowsers,” Jill muttered.

  “Good evening, Adepts.”

  “Yo,” Scout said, her head tilted to the side, curiosity in her expression.

  He shut the door behind him, then pressed his hand to the door. For a second, it pulsed with light, then faded again.

  “I think he just warded the door,” Scout whispered, awe in her voice. “I’ve never seen that before. He has got to teach me how to do that. It rocked.”

  “I thought I rocked?” I whispered.

  “Oh, you do,” she assured me, patting me on the arm. “This is a totally different kind of rockage.”

  The blond walked to Katie and Smith and shook their hands. They looked none too excited to meet him; Smith’s lip was actually curled in disgust. When they’d said their hellos, Katie and Smith stepped aside. The blond stepped toward us.

  “I’m Daniel Sterling,” he said. “And I’m your new team captain.”

  That must have meant something to the rest of the Adepts, who exchanged knowing glances.

  “New team captain?” Paul asked.

  Daniel looked at Paul, hands on his hips. “Your handlers and mine have become aware of a certain lack of . . . cohesiveness within this enclave. I am here to remedy that lack of cohesiveness.” He slid a narrowed glance to Katie and Smith, who looked down, rebuked.