Spellcaster (13 page)

“Honestly, I don’t care what
this is about or what they get out of it,” Brendan interjected, scratching
at his hair with the hand I wasn’t holding in a viselike grip. “I only care
about what they’re trying to do to Emma. Someone wants this badly enough to
disguise themselves and chase her through a park, basically repeating what
she went through only four months ago—because what did that story say?
Something about how fear makes her blood more powerful?”

Randi looked back through the
text as Angelique nodded her head, her computer-like memory confirming what
Brendan had said.

“Yes, Brendan, I hadn’t thought
of that. You’re so smart.” Randi sighed, her cat’s eye liner tails wagging
as she blinked her eyelashes at him approvingly, while Angelique bit her lip
so hard I was positive she was going to tear it off. I didn’t get why she
was so irritated. After all, it was
my
boyfriend that her cousin was
ogling, and it didn’t bother me—much. And Brendan didn’t even notice Randi’s
harmless flirtations, since he was still going off on his rant.

“The knife, the hood, the big
chase, the elaborate scheme to get me out of the way…whoever this is, he’s
clearly getting off on this—they just love the production! I mean, look at
that thing!” Brendan jerked his hand toward where the athame rested on the
table, the point of the blade unnervingly facing my direction. I reached out
a finger and poked the blade so it faced the wall.

“And,” Brendan continued, his
voice getting more agitated, “it’s not like this psycho is going to make
clean little surgical cuts. Look at that knife. Listen to that story! He’s
going to—” Brendan cringed, looking away, his rant abruptly halted. He
didn’t have to finish his sentence for me to know what he was about to say.
He’s going to slice her open.

“And all for what?” he asked, his
voice quiet but gradually rising to its previous volume. “Power? Power
doesn’t mean anything.” Brendan slammed his palm on the table in
frustration. “Why go to all this trouble for something as lame and
intangible as power?”

“It doesn’t mean anything to you
because
you
have it,” Angelique snapped, slamming her own palms on the table as her eyes
turned steely cold. She took a deep breath, as if she was trying to organize
her thoughts. I could practically hear the bitchy and the reasonable
thoughts fighting with each other. Thankfully, when she opened her mouth,
reason had won.

“Think of that curse that doomed
Emma,” Angelique said calmly, her eyes closed as if it took inhuman effort
to address Brendan directly.
Clearly the bitchy
side got a few good licks in.
“Part of
the deal was that you be reincarnated into this charismatic, oh-so-strong
Sex on a Stick that
everyone
just falls all over themselves to do things for.
What? It’s true,” she said defensively when she opened her eyes and saw my
astonished face. It
was
true, but still…she didn’t have to say it like
that.
I
darted a glance to Brendan, who looked like he wanted to crawl under the
table.
At least she didn’t call him
cute.

“Anyway,” she continued, her tone
matter-of-fact, “you have power, Brendan, whether you realize it or not, so
of course you don’t see why it’s important. You’ve got to be a pretty angry
person to turn to black magic—I don’t think most people get to that point on
their own. So think of how attractive all this power would be to someone who
feels marginalized.”

“So shouldn’t we be calling the
cops, then?” Brendan asked. “No offense, Randi, you’ve been
great—”

“Oh, thank you. Um, none taken,”
she trilled, blushing again, and Angelique snorted, spreading her palms as
if to say, “See?” Randi shot her a look so acidic, I thought it would bleach
Angelique’s hair back to her natural blonde color.

Randi smoothed a lock of her
hair around the flowered clip self-consciously before replying to Brendan.
“So, Brendan. You were asking about cops? Yeah…that’s not a great idea.” She
shook her head and laughed bitterly. “Trust me on this. They never believe
you and always think you’re lying or want attention. And if they do believe
you, that’s almost worse. Do you want people knowing spells work? Anyway,
it’s especially not a good idea for you guys—do you really want to go to the
cops sounding like a bunch of wackjobs when there’s still a case against
that Anthony kid?”

“You’ve got a really good point
there.” Brendan sighed, resignation etched all over his face as he slouched
back in his chair.

“It’s easier to police magical
things on your own—unless you can catch this psycho in the act of attacking
Emma or something. And I don’t think they’ll come back,” Randi mused, taking
another swig of water. “This was probably some newbie to black magic, who
thought they could intimidate Emma or just attack her really quickly and get
away. I think they weren’t expecting Emma to be able to fight back like
that. They definitely didn’t expect her to fight back with magic. Of course,
you’re upset and worried about her, Brendan, but let’s face it, there is
always some danger associated with real magic. And Emma’s a true witch. It
comes with the territory.”

Randi’s cell phone rang, and she
answered it, mouthing, “It’s my mother” to Angelique.

“I’ll be right back,” she
whispered, her long blond hair sweeping behind her as she hurried into a
bedroom in the back of the apartment. Once she was out of the room, I turned
to Angelique.

“Do you think she’s right, that
this psycho will back off now? Or do you still have that crazy foreboding of
dread?”

Angelique looked at me almost
apologetically.

“I have it, and it’s really,
really strong. I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, her forehead wrinkling with
concern. “I’m not causing these feelings—I’m just a receiver, not a
broadcaster. And,” she said as she sighed, shoving the
Hadrian’s
book back in
front of me and pointing to a line in the prose, “read this
again.”

I looked down at the scrolled
text. “‘On this unholy day when the stars align’?” I read aloud. “What about
it?”

“There’s a lunar eclipse on
Wednesday,” Angelique explained, then shuddered. “It’s a special one, too—at
least for pagans. A full moon during March is often called a ‘death
moon.’”

“Death moon?” I snorted. “It
sounds like the name of some new action movie about ass-kicking
astronauts.”

“Funny as you might think it
is,” Angelique said, ignoring me, “a lunar eclipse has to be what they’re
referring to in this story. I mean, I doubt these witches had telescopes and
could figure out when Jupiter is in Aries. This had to be something visible
with human eyes, like a lunar eclipse. And this psycho’s time is running out
to do this spell.”

“So we just have to keep this
son of a bitch away from Emma until after Wednesday? Done,” Brendan
declared, taking both my hands in his. “You can fake sickness for a few
days. And I’m going to look like the most psychotically overbearing
boyfriend, but I’m not leaving your side until Thursday morning. Sorry, but
I’m going to be a real pain in your ass,” he said, chuckling
humorlessly.

“Or, instead of Brendan having
to constantly shadow you like a stalker, we could try to draw this person
out and catch them in the act,” Angelique said, leaning forward with her
elbows on the table. “There’s an average of two lunar eclipses a year, guys.
Since this witch attacked you on Friday, I don’t think they’re worried about
bleeding you
during
the eclipse. As long as they have your blood,
they’re set.”

“So they can come for me on
Monday or months from now,” I realized, the anger and panic churning in my
stomach. “No. No! I’m not going to live in fear. I want my life back. I want
to find them and end this.
Now,
” I growled. My fists were clenched so tightly my
nails left little half-moon marks in my skin.

“I have an idea. It’s a rough
one, but it’s something. Isn’t there some big prom or dance tonight?”
Angelique asked, wrinkling her nose.

“It’s a Battle of the Bands over
at Magel High School,” I explained. “All the private schools are invited. I
think a lot of Vince A people are going.”

Angelique spun one of her silver
bangles on the table, thoughtfully tilting her head as if she were running
through something in her mind. Finally she smacked her hand on top of the
bracelet, causing the metal to slam into the wood table with a musical
clang. “I have an idea that you’re going to hate.” She got up and peered
down the hallway where her cousin had gone into her room.

After hurrying back to the
table, Angelique dropped her voice so Randi couldn’t hear. “No one is going
to hate it more than I do, but…I think we should go.”

“You think this psycho will be
there?” I asked.

“It’s worth a shot. Obviously
this über-witch wannabe either goes to Vince A, or is working with someone
at Vince A, since no one on the class trip had a black eye but they knew
where you were and when you were breaking for lunch.

“We go, I see if I can sense
anything—and if someone tries to go after Emma again, we know she can take
care of herself.”

Brendan frowned, shaking his
head. “No way. We’re basically walking Emma into a trap, you
realize.”

“Well, yeah, that’s what we’re
doing—using her as bait to catch this psycho. Although,
you’re
probably the
target now that this psycho knows Emma has a few spells up her
sleeve.”

“Then why don’t you and I go,
Angelique, and Emma can stay home where she’s safe? I don’t mind being
bait,” Brendan suggested calmly, and I tried to ignore Angelique’s look of
abject horror at the thought of hanging out with Brendan—alone, horror of
horrors—for a night. You’d think he just suggested that he cut Angelique’s
hand off so he could smack her in the face with it.

Brendan noticed her reaction, an
entertained smirk threatening to break out across his face. “Why not,
Angelique?” he asked innocently. “As you so eloquently put it, I’m
super-strong Sex on a Stick, right? I’ll be fine. I can handle
it.”

“Whether or not you can handle
it is irrelevant,” I replied, stifling a smile as I tried to squash what
could easily devolve into an argument. “Besides, we’re in this together, I
thought. Your words, remember?”

“That’s different,” Brendan
argued.

“No, it isn’t,” I insisted.
“Look, this is as good an idea as any.”

“How do we even alert this idiot
that we’re going to be there? It could be a waste of our time,” Brendan
argued diplomatically.

“That’s the easy part,”
Angelique scoffed, waving her bangle in the air. “Facebook your face off,
Brendan. Write on a few people’s pages. Word will get around.”

We all sat up straighter as
Randi strode back into the room, stuffing her cell phone into the pocket of
her crinoline-puffed skirt. She’d also applied lip gloss.

“Sorry about that. My mom said
she was wrapping up her brunch with your mom and they’re going to be home
soon. So we should probably end this little magical tête-à-tête. If your mom
even sniffed a whiff of danger, she’d bind both of your powers,” Randi said,
her eyes rolling before they settled on us suspiciously.

“What were you all talking about
before I walked back in here?”

“Nothing, Randi—I’m just giving
Emma a hard time for not devoting herself more to her witchcraft studies,”
Angelique lied effortlessly. It was impressive.

“She’s got all this natural
talent. Imagine how good she’d be if she actually studied instead of just
trying to levitate highlighters.”

“You can do that?” Brendan
elbowed me, impressed. “You never told me you could do that.”

“I can’t do it
well.
Besides,
Angelique, I’m bad enough at Latin,” I defended myself. “Learning the spells
is just
more
Latin.” Truly it was daunting.

“You know, that gives me an
idea,” Randi exclaimed, disappearing from the kitchen with a, “Be right
back.”

Moments later, she returned
holding a small black leather notebook, bound in a black cord.

“My first grimoire. Some basic
rules of Wicca, some of my favorite spells, just to get you started,” she
explained, holding up the notebook and shaking it. “I know Angelique knows
her way around an incantation, but you should read some of these, just to
get an idea of the ones you want to start writing. When I was starting out,
I felt more secure using proven spells. Oh, and they’re entirely in
English,” she added, tossing the book on the table.

“English?” I blurted out,
picking up the book and flipping through it. “Wait, I’m confused. I
thought—”

“The words are there to evoke a
certain power within the witch. So spells can be in whatever language you
speak,” Randi explained. “It’s up to the witch. What, did you think every
witch just
had
to use Latin? That’s all Angelique. What matters is
the power
you
ascribe to the words.”