Blood Magic (23 page)

I stepped back.

“Nick,” Silla yelled, halfway to us. “It isn’t Wendy. It isn’t—”

Wendy leaned away, then out of nowhere punched me in the mouth. The pain detonated across my skull and I tasted blood. Stumbling back, I touched my lips. Wendy whirled and ran past me toward my bag.

“No!” Silla grabbed at Wendy’s hair, but it slipped through her fingers. I ran with them, catching up in three long strides and snatching Wendy’s arm. She tried to tear her hand from me, but I jerked her around. She bared her teeth like a wolf and snarled, “Let go!”

“It isn’t Wendy,” Silla gasped again.

Wendy’s body kicked out at me, but I held her away. I smeared my free hand across my bloody mouth and then slapped it onto her forehead. “I banish thee from this body,” I said, willing it to be true. The power rushed through my hand, burning my palm.
A stranger’s face, angry before mine: “I banish thee,” he snarls
.

She collapsed like a pile of sticks.

“Wendy!” Silla knelt beside her friend’s body, but Wendy’s eyes didn’t open. She was breathing, though, calmly, like she’d fainted.

It was totally silent. Even the hammering had stopped. I glanced over to see the handful of crew guys standing and staring, tools lowered to their sides and mouths hanging open.

God, I hoped they hadn’t heard what we’d said.

A crow shrieked from the edge of the forest. Followed by another.

“Nicholas.”

I looked at Silla. She sat with Wendy’s head in her lap. “How did you do that?” Her wide eyes reflected the expansive sky. “That wasn’t in the book.”

Improvisation
, I could have said. Or
inspiration
. But looking at her eyes, I couldn’t lie again. “My mother taught me.” It wasn’t as romantic a moment as I’d been hoping for. My voice was low and flat. This was going to go very badly.

It was amazing how her face changed. One moment raw with emotion, and the next turned hard and still.

The crows cackled again. They lifted out of the trees and flew toward us. Silla’s gaze darted at them, but I couldn’t stop staring at her. She climbed to her feet and slowly bent to pick
up my messenger bag. Lifting it high, she yelled at the crows, “I have it! Here. Come and get me!” And without wasting another look on me, she ran back toward the parking lot.

I ran after her. “Silla, wait! My car.”

She completely ignored me. I caught up, reached out, and grasped at her elbow. “Silla, stop.”

Whirling, she tore loose. “Let me go!” Her eyes narrowed, and they flicked behind me. “They’re coming. I have to get them away from Wendy.”

“Come to my car, we’ll get out of …” I touched her elbow again.

“How do I know you aren’t possessed?” Silla jerked back from me. Her eyes looked behind me again, and stayed there.

I turned my head, saw the crows were staring. Just watching us with their heads cocked. Some of them wobbled dizzily, like they didn’t know what was happening. “Ask me anything,” I said, turned back to Silla.

“Maybe you’ve always been someone else.”

The quiet accusation slammed into my chest. “Silla,” I whispered, unable to dredge up more voice than that.

She pushed her lips together and spun on her heels. But her steps didn’t pick up. “She could possess anyone in the school,” she said. Her fingers tightened around the strap of my messenger bag. “I have to keep her away from Wendy. From everybody. From the spell book.”

“Let—let me drive you home,” I said.

Slowly, she nodded. Then she glanced back through the cloud of crows spread across the grass to Wendy, who was slowly sitting up, surrounded by a couple of guys from the
theater crew. Silla’s lips pressed together again, and she made fists. “Let’s go.”

The crows didn’t fly after us. They didn’t have to. Whoever was possessing them, or had possessed Wendy, knew we had the spell book and exactly where we were going.

So I didn’t head for Silla’s house.

She scanned the trees, the fields, the road, the sky. Because the bad guy could be anywhere. In any of the birds, in those cows we were passing, or that dog—in anything. I gripped the wheel and drove. Wind tore at us as I pushed the convertible faster and faster. At least
I
knew I was me.

It was only a few minutes before Silla said, “This isn’t the way to my house.” She shrank away from me, pressing herself as far into the side door as she could. “Stop the car!”

I shook my head, but didn’t look at her. “He knows where you’re going. He could be waiting there. We can’t walk right into his hands.”

“Or she’s hurting my brother, or Judy. Take. Me. Home.”

“No.”

“You’re kidnapping me?” A gust of wind jerked her words away.

“No!”

“That’s what this feels like. Stop the car.”

“Silla—”

Before I could finish, she unfastened her seat belt and reached for the door.

I hit the brakes. The car swerved and Silla slammed forward, catching herself with her hands against the dashboard.
The world spun, and I was being torn in twelve directions at once. Then—we stopped.

I was shaking. The car was shaking. But the road and the fields were firmly fixed in place.

Slowly, I took my foot off the brake. It weighed a ton. The back wheels dipped off the asphalt and onto the gravelly shoulder. I breathed again. “Silla?” I said, just as she opened the door and fell out.

I heard her scrambling up as I turned off the car and climbed out, too. “Wait!” I dashed around after her as she stumbled down into the ditch and up the other side into a field of harvested corn. My bag still slung over her back.

My combat boots dug into the damp grass, but once I was on level ground with her, it was easy to catch up. “Silla,” I called again, from just a couple of feet behind her.

Silla spun, swinging my bag at me, and smashed it into my gut.

All the air slammed out of me and I bent over. “Christ,” I hissed when I could gulp in some breath. Thank God it hadn’t been a little lower.

“You lied to me.”

Straightening, I met her glare. “I was going to tell you.”

“Right! That’s so lame, Nick.” Her lips pulled into a frown, tipping from anger into hurt.

“I was—I told you I had something important to talk about.”

“Conveniently.”

“Look, it was just bad timing, okay?”

“I can’t trust you.” She stepped back, her face sliding back into stillness.

I ignored the grinding in my chest and held out my hands. “What was I supposed to say? It’s magic. A secret. You don’t just go around talking about it.”

“But you saw me doing it. You knew. And you did it with us. Come on, you had so, so, so many chances.” She crossed her fists over her stomach. “Like Friday night. After we … Or Saturday in the cemetery.”

“I—”

“We’ve just been screwing around, guessing, trying our best with the slightest information, and you’ve known the whole time! How could you just go along like you were new to it?”

“Silla—”

She shook her head. “Why should I trust you? How can I?”

I stepped forward and grabbed her.
“Listen.”

Silence. She was stiff in my hands, but watched me. Her hair spiked up crazily from all the wind, and her cheeks were flushed.

Licking my lips, I released her slowly. “I hated the magic. I didn’t want to think about it, much less talk about it.”

Nothing.

“And I didn’t remember everything. Not clearly. My mom—you know she didn’t stick around. And when we did it together … I was young. Before my eighth birthday, okay?”

“But you recognized it.” Her voice was quiet. Her eyes lowered from mine. Settled on my lips. Then she closed them. As if expecting my answer to be too painful.

I didn’t want her bracing herself from me. Withdrawing. “Don’t do that.”

Her eyes flew open. “Do what?” She tugged away from me.

“Hide. That thing you do, like when you’re onstage. The masquerade.”

“I’m not hiding. I’m—I’m coping. I’m surviving. Getting through the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m sorry if you don’t like my methods, Nick.” My name spat off her tongue.

“Don’t be a bitch, either.”

Silla turned and stomped away.

“That’s hiding, too!” My mouth curled into a snarl.

She paused, turned back, and came at me. “What do you want from me? You lied to me, and now you’re attacking me? Fine. Go ahead. I can take it. I can take a whole lot.” Her fists pushed hard into her stomach.

“Maybe it isn’t about you, Silla. Maybe it’s about me.”

“Really? My parents being murdered by some psycho body stealer has anything to do with you? How so?”

“What?”

“
What
what?”

“Murder? You think your parents were murdered by someone doing the magic? I didn’t know you thought that. Nice thing to leave out, speaking of lies. ‘By the way,
dear Nick
, this person chasing us might
be a murderer
? How long have you known? How long have you been keeping that a secret?”

Silla’s mouth snapped shut. Her knees bent, and she just plopped down on her ass, dragged her legs up, and wrapped her hands around her shins. I stared down at her, panting like I’d run a marathon.

“You’re right,” she said in a monotone. Toward my toes. “It was dangerous for you not to know. For me to involve you without telling you the possible stakes.”

I crouched.

“If you thought it was just a game, or just fun, and then you got hurt, or …” She squeezed her eyes closed. “I’m sorry.”

“Remember I told you my mom tried to kill herself?”

“Yes.”

“She slit her wrists. To get rid of her blood.”

Silla’s head rose just enough to meet my eyes. “Oh.” I could see the realization in her face, that she knew what Mom’s suicide attempt meant.

“My grandfather told her she was evil. That the magic was evil.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” I sank down to sit in front of her. “I don’t remember, but I think I should.”

We stared at each other for a moment.

I said, “I wasn’t lying about not remembering it all. What I did remember was … tainted. Because even though it had been fun at first, it all led to my mom trying to kill herself and get high to dilute the power. I even wonder if she put a spell on me to make me forget. Because it just all came crashing back on Saturday, after I saw you and Reese doing the possession. My mom could do that. And she taught me to do it.”

“You didn’t know if you could trust me,” Silla whispered. “If I was—was evil, too. Or using it for evil purposes.”

“Yeah.”

She nodded clumsily. “I get that.”

“I also think …” I hesitated.

Her eyebrows rose a little.

I cleared my throat. “My mom might have done something wrong, but I went through your dad’s book and there isn’t even the slightest curse or negative magic. It’s all healing, protection, transformation. I think your dad was good.”

And just like that she was crying.

I felt a little like That Guy who holds a baby at arm’s length because he’s afraid it’s going to pee on him.

Her hands pressed to her face and she made actual sounds. Like, sobs. And sniffing. It was all muffled, though, as she hunched down, bending over herself and becoming this tiny ball. Her shoulders shook. I touched the top of her head. Just gently, not sure she wanted real comfort or my arm around her.

It didn’t last long. Only a few moments, while the corn moved all around us in dry ocean waves.

Sniffing hugely, Silla sat up. She wiped at her cheeks and eyes, and muttered “Sorry” several times. I just waited. Offered my sleeve. She smiled a tremulous smile and shook her head. “I’m okay. God, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Feel better?” I’d heard that crying really helped some people.

“Ugh.” Sniff. “No. Not at all. I feel like my brain turned to snot and cotton balls.”

“That’s how you look, too,” I said. Very seriously.

It got a laugh from her. “God, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.” She pushed the butts of her hands into her eyes.

So I waited another moment while she gathered herself up.

“I’ve been afraid, you know?” she said to her hands, now
folded in her lap. “That he deserved it. That he brought this upon us. And the woman who killed them told me that he was a liar and a horrible person. That Dad betrayed her. And it’s what everyone says.”

“They’re wrong.”

She took a huge breath and held it, then let it hiss out slowly. Blotches of pink stained her face, and her eyes were puffy. Good thing I wasn’t a mirror. Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, I need to call Reese,” she said. “Warn him, get him home. But I … I left my backpack at school.”

“My cell’s in my bag.” I touched her knuckle. “I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”