Old Magic (11 page)

So, both of them are after Jarrod. This, I decide as I grate my teeth, could prove interesting. Their jealousy could very well erupt into the catfight of the century. I hope I’m there to see it.

Tasha pouts sulkily. The image sparks a vicious thought. One thing that really annoys me is Tasha’s portrayal of a blond airhead. She’s not dumb. In fact, she’s the most intelligent girl in the whole grade. But she acts like a bimbo, pumping out feminine charm by the bucket load. And the guys love it. I think of a spell that will make her body create a flush of testosterone. I colorfully visualize her delicate flawless cheeks disappearing beneath a layer of bristly dark facial hair. The thought makes me dizzy.

Jessica’s words reluctantly return my focus and I file the idea for later experimentation. “Ryan’s been throwing fancy dress parties on the first day of winter ever since I can remember.”

What she doesn’t say is that Ryan’s annual fancy dress party has become Ashpeak’s event to die for. It’s a tradition his older brother started years ago, before he went off to university. Ryan invites almost everyone, including the senior grades. Nobody ever turns down an invitation. As for me, I never get one, and I’ve never been asked by someone who has. So, what else is new? They’re always leaving me out of their parties. So what? They’re just a bunch of pathetic snobs. Still, just once, I wouldn’t mind going. Especially if Jarrod asked.

“Er, well, I haven’t given it much thought,” he says.

Tasha, completely put out by Jessica getting her invitation in first, pouts again, this time seductively, and somehow manages to step around her lap dog and still look graceful doing it. Now there is practically nothing between her own and Jarrod’s body. Jarrod inches backward as Tasha forces herself forward, but his back hits the counter, where he stops. “I’m looking for something really different,” she explains, giving their reason for being in the “Witch’s Hut,” as the Crystal Forest is generally referred to by her lot.

“Great,” he says, “don’t let me hold you up.”

The guy is absolutely spineless. He has a natural gift, and this could strengthen his character, but because he won’t acknowledge it, it lies dormant, useless to him. Only when he experiences strong emotions, does it make itself known, and from what I’ve seen, with catastrophic results. He’s quite an anomaly—a coward, and a walking time bomb.

“So,” Tasha whispers huskily, spreading bright red manicured talons across the front of Jarrod’s T-shirt. “What are you doing here?”

It’s a moment of truth. His eyes flicker to mine and back again really quickly. I can actually feel his inner battle. To tell Tasha the whole truth is impossible, but I guess I do hope he tells her he has come to see a friend—me. It’s a hope I don’t put much faith in. Why should Jarrod turn out any different from the rest of them? Be seen with Scary Face? That would take a lot of courage.

Still, a part of me, a huge part of me, really wants him to acknowledge that I’m his friend. That I’m worthy of friendship.

“Er, um, yeah well,” he hesitates, stalling. “Mom’s got some clothes and stuff hanging in the window. I, ah, thought I’d check out the display,” he lies.

My eyes close as I bite back any sign of disappointment. The jerk. Stupid tears well up but I force them back. I’m not going to cry, especially not in front of this lot. I open my eyes and Jarrod’s looking straight at me, apology written in his too wide eyes. Well, tough. Too late.

“Can I help you, girls?” Jillian suddenly appears, all cleaned up. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

Slowly, her eyes lingering on Jarrod’s reddening face, Tasha moves toward Jillian, eventually giving the woman all her attention. “I’m going to be wearing white, a full length fairy dress. I have these gorgeous silver shoes and I’m looking for a wand, and a silver mask to match, shaped like a butterfly. I’d really like some glitter but that’s not a big problem, I can add that myself. . . .” She keeps going but I quickly tune out.

Turning my back on them I run out of the room. I tell myself I don’t care what Jarrod thinks. Humiliating tears well up again, which I viciously fight back. I sprint past Hannah gulping orange juice at the kitchen table and go straight up to my room. She follows, wondering I guess, what’s the rush. She’s shaking recently washed fingers when she reaches my room. It’s probably the mood I’m in ’cause I really need a friend right now. If I don’t talk to someone I’ll explode, or worse, cast a spell. Something I haven’t tried before—changing skin color to fluorescent green.

I tell Hannah everything about Jarrod: the curse, how he has the gift with a lot of power, and my stupid, but definitely-in-the-past, fatal attraction.

“Yeah, sure,” she mutters when I finish.

“Sure what?” She’s lying across my bed, her head resting in her hands, her shoeless feet across my pillow, while I sit cross-legged on the floor.

“Sure you’re over him,” she replies sarcastically.

Stubbornly, I insist, “You bet I am!”

“So you’re not going to help him get rid of this curse?”

I have to think, there’s only one way I can be sure I’m over my unrealized obsession with this guy. “I don’t care if his curse was brewed by the devil,” I announce dramatically. “Jarrod can beg and plead and crawl on his hands and knees, clean my feet with his tongue, shake the grit from the bottom of my muddy boots, scrape the bird droppings off my windowsill, and I still won’t lift a finger to help.”

Stupidly, I don’t realize that Hannah has left the door open. Jarrod’s voice has me jumping. “What if I say I’m sorry?”

My head jerks up, going red really, really fast.

How long has he been standing there?

It doesn’t help that Hannah bursts out laughing, thoroughly amused.

“Shut up, Hannah.” My mood is black.

Eventually she does. “Sorry,” she mumbles, but I know she isn’t really. She does sit up though, and Jarrod sits beside her on my bed.

“You told Hannah everything,” he says miserably, and I have the answer to my question—he’d obviously been standing there a long time.

“Do you always eavesdrop at people’s bedroom doors?”

“If the conversation is interesting enough.”

Hannah remains amused, trying to contain an occasional cackle, even though it’s apparent the tension in the room is so thick you could grab great heaving chunks of it by the handfuls. “She’s right, you know.”

Jarrod glances at Hannah. “About what?”

“Everything,” she replies casually. “You don’t know her, I do. Listen, if Kate says you’re cursed, believe it. She knows about these things. If she says you’re gifted, you gotta believe that, too. Accept and don’t knock it. Wow, what I’d do to have the gift.”

“I don’t have your same faith, Hannah.”

“Pity,” she mumbles, stretching and rubbing her nonexistent stomach. “Anyway, I gotta go now that I’m full and I’ve had a good laugh.” She turns around at the door. “Seeing you’ve got company I’ll see myself out. Gotta thank Jillian for the pancakes anyway. See ya.”

Jarrod shakes his head as her footsteps tread lightly down the stairs. “Why did you tell Hannah everything?”

I’m not in the mood to be nice. “Why didn’t you tell Tasha and Jessica you came to see me?”

He accepts defeat better than I would have. “I’m sorry about that. It kind of just slipped out.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

His eyes are pleading. I like it so much I almost smile. “Yeah? How?”

“Anything you say. I promise.”

Impulsively, for I would never do this otherwise, I say, “Take me to Ryan’s party.”

He doesn’t say a thing, just stares with those vivid green eyes. The silence grows suffocating. For a second I almost feel sorry for him. I know I’m asking a lot. But I’ve said it now and refuse to take it back. Not that I would really make him go through with it. I guess I just need to test his friendship. All I want is to hear him say something like, “Yeah, sure, no problem.” And mean it.

Instead, he says, “You don’t really want to go, do you?”

It’s hard to decide whether he just doesn’t want to take me, or in some absurd way is attempting to protect me. I guess he knows that if I turn up at Ryan’s party I’d find myself the center of attention, the kind of attention nobody wants. And Pecs will be there.

I shrug and look away. At least no one can call me a coward.

“If it’s what you really want, I promise to take you.”

I glare at him. He obviously feels indebted. Well, sucked in. Maybe I should go through with it. It would teach him a lesson—in loyalty. Instead, I mumble, “I wasn’t serious, you know.”

He leans forward, his voice softly menacing. “I don’t like being tested, Kate.” The chimes start moving, pastel colors flicker across my bedroom walls as they catch the sun through the window. His temper is simmering and I get the feeling I’m playing with explosives.

Then again, I don’t scare easily. “You’re just relieved you’re off the hook. Of course I wouldn’t dare ruin your chances with Tasha or Jessica. They’d be so disgusted, they might even kick you out of their elite little group.”

“I don’t care about them,” he stuns me by saying.

“You lie badly.”

He shrugs as if the subject actually bores him. As quickly as they started the chimes stop spinning. At least my house is safe for now. “I thought being accepted was your major goal in life.”

His forehead wrinkles with worry lines. “My priorities are changing.”

His dead serious tone scares me. Surely nothing else could have happened? When would it all end? I search his face and say quickly, “Has some other horror happened to your family?”

He sits thinking for a quiet moment, and my pulse leaps. When he looks up there’s just weary sadness. “That’s the thing, Kate. I’m afraid of what might happen next. My family’s been through so much already, how much more can they take before they self-destruct?” He looks at me then with an intensity that would frighten a hardened criminal. “I never thought I’d believe in curses, but right now my head’s in such a spin, I think I could believe anything.”

His acknowledgment takes me so much by surprise I instantly forget about Ryan’s party. I bring my knees up to my chin, wrapping my arms around them. “Are you saying you actually believe it now?”

He heaves, pushing out a long deep breath. “I don’t know what to believe. This is hard for me, Kate. I haven’t had your upbringing—magic, enchantment, sorcery, they’ve never been topics of conversation at the dinner table.”

I nod, understanding. “But you accept there might be some truth in the curse.”

“At least it’s an explanation. It gives a reason for all the things that have gone wrong over the years. And the strangest thing happened last night when I held Casey in my arms.” He throws his head back, his eyes examining the sharply angled ceiling for a timeless few seconds. I’ve seen him do this before when he’s trying to work something difficult out, or is deeply worried. It makes him appear vulnerable.

Finally his head lowers and he looks at me. “God, Kate, I feel responsible for what happened to Casey. Everything that’s happened to my family could be my fault.”

I consider this for a moment. “You feeling responsible could be a kind of acceptance, an inner awareness of the truth. But don’t be so hard on yourself. You didn’t put this curse on your family.”

“But if all this curse stuff is true, Kate, what can be done about it?”

“I’ve been talking to Jillian. She says the ancient texts reveal there are two ways to end a sorcerer’s curse.”

He leans forward, his attention thoroughly focused, waiting.

“Death,” I explain.

“What? Whose? Mine?”

“No. Apparently this type of curse will end when the instigator is put to death by the bearer.”

He stares at me incredulously. “I have to kill the sorcerer?”

I nod.

We’re quiet for a few moments, but Jarrod’s thoughts are spinning. “You believe the purported sorcerer is an illegitimate Thornton who lived about eight hundred years ago,” he says in all seriousness. “Which means he’s already dead. Maybe the curse will end if I die.”

I don’t like where this conversation has detoured. I try explaining more. From Jillian’s ancient witchcraft manual I start reading, “‘To end the curse the bearer, or one of the descendants’”—here I glance at Jarrod—“‘would have to destroy the sorcerer, if not by his own hands, by contrived means.’”

His frown increases. “That’s impossible, Kate. This man’s already dead.”

I sigh, this is getting us nowhere. “Yeah, I know.”

“Besides, I couldn’t do it anyway. You know . . . kill someone. Sorry, it’s just not in me. Murder.” And then he adds very softly, “It’d be easier to kill myself.”

I look into his face to make sure he’s joking. But he’s so serious I can’t be sure. “Don’t even think about it,” I try to joke. “Your death wouldn’t stop the curse appearing again in your descendants.”

“But if I die before I leave descendants . . .”

I jump in quickly, “The curse would find a way.”

He nods and grunts a kind of sarcastic agreement. “Like it did with me. My parents would never have had seven babies if they’d all survived. Only by their deaths did they continue to have more.”

He has a point. His parents would have stopped making babies after the third or fourth and probably decided to adopt. But seventh and eighth? No way. So the curse found a way to be reignited. It actually caused all those babies’ deaths. My skin tingles all over. Whoever created this curse has to have been one hell of a powerful magician. A wizard, no less, and evil at that. My mind ticks over. There has to be something we can do. I soon forget my decision not to help. “We could try a spell.”

This has Jarrod’s full attention, and I’m pleased. At least he isn’t thinking dark thoughts now. “Yeah? You reckon?”

“It was magic that put you in this situation, maybe all we need is a little magic to get you out. Besides, you’ve got nothing to lose.”

“What sort of spell?”

I have to think. Something effective enough to override powerful alchemy. Not an easy task centuries after the initial curse. “We’d have to go to the creek at midnight on a full moon. Luckily, that’s tonight. Oh yeah, we’ll need some goat’s blood. Can you manage that? I’ll get the fish heart. I think Jillian’s still got some fresh toads.”