Spellcaster (Spellcaster #1) (22 page)

“Well, come on. Let’s find out what you can really do.”

Nadia heard the challenge in his voice and, despite her worries, had to smile. A spell, any spell—but what?

Once again she thought of the spells she’d managed to decipher in Goodwife Hale’s Book of Shadows. For every one that sounded beyond awesome (a spell for extinguishing or even reversing fire), there was another that wasn’t as useful these days (like the one to remove enchantments on your milk cow). But one in particular had stood out to her, precisely because of how much she would have wanted it that night she dove off the lighthouse: a spell for moving water.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath and brought her hands in front of her chest, a gesture almost like praying, except that the fingers of one hand curled around the pendant on her bracelet that was made of pearl. “Let’s try this.”

In her mind, Nadia put together the ingredients:

The love of a child
.

A living thing rising from the earth
.

Hope through grief
.

Each one had to be thought of, then felt so deeply it almost ached—

—and as she concentrated, her eyes shut, she felt Mateo slip his hand between hers. He didn’t clutch at her, didn’t weave his fingers into hers, just touched her. His skin was warm, his hand slightly rough from hard work.

That should have been the most distracting thing possible. Instead Nadia’s thoughts took on an entirely new clarity. It was like the world had gone from black-and-white to color, from a flat photograph to three dimensions, but more, with every sensation and feeling more vibrant to her than ever before—

Cole standing on his chubby baby legs and taking his first steps, not toward his mother or father but toward his big sister
—

Spring crocuses pushing their way up through the snow—

“So what do you say?” Dad sitting at their table back in Chicago, in the apartment that always felt so empty without Mom there. “Do you want to stay here, or are you guys okay with moving and having a fresh start?” Seeing little Cole nod, giving up everything he’d ever known in an instant, and Nadia suddenly realizing she wanted to do the same and find out what was next—

“Oh, my God,” Mateo breathed. Nadia opened her eyes.

The ocean in front of them had begun to ripple upward into shimmering walls of water. They outlined a path stretching into the ocean, until those walls of water were several feet high. There before them lay seaweed glistening green, the iridescent shells of oysters, and wet, dark sand—a road for only the two of them to travel. Water spray turned even the weak afternoon sunlight into radiance, as prisms of multicolored light flickered above it all.

It was gorgeous. It was miraculous. Every fear she’d had seemed to melt away in an instant.

“That—that was not supposed to happen,” Nadia whispered.

“In a bad way or a good way?” Mateo’s hand remained between hers.

“In a very good way. This is amazing.”

“This is biblical.” Mateo started laughing. “Are you going to tell me Moses was a witch?”

She laughed. “What, do you want to get struck by lightning? Hush.” Though she’d occasionally wondered—there were a few spells that would definitely seem miraculous—

No. Better to drop that thought and avoid the whole lightning-strike-from-heaven thing.

Nadia couldn’t take her eyes from the incredible phenomenon in front of her, but she could hear the smile in Mateo’s voice as he spoke. “Do you want to walk out there? Stand in the middle of the ocean and watch the fish swim by?”

“No. I should let it go. The oysters and things—I don’t want them to—to do whatever the opposite of drowning is.” They needed the water, so Nadia let go of the charm and relaxed. Almost instantly, the water rushed back down, splashing their legs and soaking her shoes clear through. Although the ripples spread out across the waves, already the ocean looked exactly as it had before.

Nadia turned to Mateo and saw her own delight reflected back to her in his face. The two of them burst out laughing at the same moment. “So it works?” he said. Salt water flecked his hair. “I’m a good Steadfast?”

“I don’t know how you’re one at all. But yeah, you’re good. You’re
incredible
. That spell should have moved the water a couple of feet, not—parted it like the Red Sea!” Nadia brushed back her own dampened hair. The wind was colder now that her clothes were wet, but she didn’t care. This beach seemed like the only place she could ever want to be, Mateo the only person she’d want to be with. “We’ll have to be careful how we practice. You give me so much power, even simple spells could be dangerous.”

Mateo’s smile faded, and his gaze hardened again. “Enough power to take on Elizabeth?”

God, she wanted to lie about this. But Mateo had been lied to enough already. “She’s strong. Stronger than any other witch alive, and her ally is the One Beneath. But—but maybe I don’t have to be more powerful than her. Just powerful enough to stop her.”

“Say the word. Anything I can do for you, Nadia, I’ll do. And I know what’s at stake, you know? I know what Elizabeth can do. I’m not afraid. I’m with you, no matter what.”

As they looked into each other’s eyes, Nadia found herself remembering what they said about a Steadfast—that the power she gave to a witch was in proportion to the potential for trust between the two. The potential for understanding, and for love.

“
NADIA
?”

“Hmmm?” She kept staring out of the living room window, where the sky was darkest. That was the east, the direction of the ocean. All Nadia could see was the image of her and Mateo together, surrounded by sea spray, with the power of that magic coursing through her—and the look of wonder in his eyes—

“Earth to Nadia.”

Startled, Nadia turned to see her father giving her a look. “Sorry. I kinda zoned out there.”

“You’re sure you’re okay with being on Cole Patrol tonight? You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

“Of course I’m okay with it. That’s my job, right?” Okay, it was past time to get her head out of the clouds. She and Mateo could explore anything—everything—tomorrow and all the days after that.

“Hey.” Her father took a seat next to her on the sofa. Already he was in work mode—the pen tucked behind one ear was a sure sign—but his expression was worried. “It’s not your
job
. You’re not the nanny. If you have homework, or you and Verlaine were going to do something—”

“I don’t, and we weren’t. Seriously, Dad, your case is coming up. Go do your lawyer thing. I’ve got Cole.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.” Nadia knew she ought to be grateful he was so worried. Lots of parents dumped stuff on their kids without even asking. But honestly, it was almost irritating. Dad knew she helped out, knew she wanted to do it, so why did he keep being so careful with her? It was like he wanted to make himself feel better about it or something.

Luckily, Cole was having a good night. All he wanted to do was watch
Toy Story 3
for about the zillionth time.

“I hate that bear,” Nadia said as she lay on the sofa, watching Cole munch on Cheetos. She’d be scrubbing orange gunk out from under his fingernails.

Cole nodded. “Lots-o is a douche bag.”

“Cole!” It was hard to sound all strict when she was trying not to laugh. “Don’t use that word!”

“Is it bad?”

“It’s bad enough. Did you hear that at school?”

Cole nodded. He looked crushed, poor little guy. “That’s what Levi calls our PE teacher.”

“Well, don’t you call him that. Or anybody else.” Nadia was already on the verge of cracking up. “Um, you want some ginger ale?”

“Okay. But—Lots-o is one, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. You can
think
it. Just don’t say it. That bear’s a—let’s call him a jerk.”

Nadia made it into the hallway before she started giggling. Somebody ought to hear that story. Maybe she could text that to Mateo? It was as good an excuse as any—though she didn’t really need an excuse to reach out to him anymore, did she? But her phone was nearly dead.

So on her way to the kitchen, she stepped into Dad’s cluttered cubby of a home office. He wasn’t in it; instead he was pacing the length of the backyard, over and over, while he talked with his client on the phone, prepping him for a deposition. Dad could never talk on the phone without having at least fifteen feet of walking space. She could barely hear him outside the window, going on about a “hostile work environment” or something like that. Nadia leaned over his desk to plug her phone into the charging station—ten minutes would give her enough juice for the rest of the night—

—and saw, hovering on his laptop screen, an email from William Kamler.

Aka, her mother’s divorce lawyer.

This was snooping. Definitely. Which didn’t make Nadia even hesitate before reading it all:

Mr. Caldani—

I have communicated your thoughts about visitation to your ex-wife. However, she remains adamant a meeting with the children is not advisable at this time. You point out, correctly, that this goes against the recommendations of the court-appointed psychologist; however, parental visitation can never be forced by any legal order. Ultimately, only Mrs. Caldani can decide when or if she will choose to contact her children again, or allow them to initiate contact with her. Although I am sympathetic to your feelings as a father, my legal duty is to protect my client’s personal—

The screen saver came on, blurring the page into blackness, then replacing it with a weird multicolored swirl that bounced around the screen.

Nadia couldn’t seem to move. Her gut had turned as cold and heavy as stone.

She’d given her father crap about how he wasn’t the person she needed to talk to. But she hadn’t realized Dad was practically begging Mom to see her and Cole, or at least call or email once in a while. Even that didn’t change anything.

Her hands shaking, Nadia went to the kitchen and poured Cole his ginger ale, then went back into the living room with a smile plastered onto her face. “Here you go, sweetie.”

“Sweetie?” Cole wrinkled his nose. “I’m not a sweetie. How come you’re talking all weird?”

She curled back onto the sofa and drew her knees up to her chest. If she hugged them against her tightly enough, it made her feel less sick inside. “No reason.”

Verlaine realized she didn’t get a vote on whether or not Mateo got to come back on board. For one, he was the Steadfast, which meant he brought some mojo to the table. For two, he was the one Elizabeth had cursed to see the future, which both made him Victim Number One and added to said mojo.

Still, he’d totally ditched them for a whole week. Instead of working on the huge enormous crisis threatening their whole town, he’d been—well, okay, he’d been dealing with massive personal betrayal and renewed grief for his dead mother. Which was actually a valid distraction.

But Verlaine? She’d been working. Carefully she’d put together a file of her findings about the sinkholes, complete with a PowerPoint presentation, and sent it to the city council; even without any mention that magic was responsible, they ought to be able to figure out that something was seriously wrong, something centered on Swindoll Park. Maybe that would be enough to get them to cancel the Halloween carnival or at least move it. But she hadn’t heard anything from the council office. Apparently reading mail from high school students wasn’t their top priority. Idiots.

Besides, now that Mateo was here in the
Guardian
offices with them, ready to be productive again, Verlaine was ready to give the guy another shot. Then again, was he even here to be productive?

Because he wasn’t going through the records she’d spent all weekend pulling. No, he was staring at Nadia all rapt and gooey, like he was seeing a rainbow for the first time, or something about that sappy. And, of course, he was currently engaged in the oh-so-important task of drawing something in pen on the side of Nadia’s sneaker—a tree, maybe. Verlaine was torn between thinking it was completely irritating and feeling the familiar ache of wishing that some guy, any guy, would look at her that way.

Anything can change
, she reminded herself fiercely.

“Okay,” she said. “The big question here is, how do we stop Elizabeth in her tracks?”

Nadia and Mateo shared a look; apparently they hadn’t realized that Verlaine intended to take over the meeting. Well, that was what happened when certain persons were too busy being twitterpated to concentrate on the business at hand. Certain other persons had to seize control. And put together the PowerPoint presentations.

She turned her laptop around so that it showed a white screen with the header:
Operation Stop Elizabeth
. That slide dissolved into the next, which had three columns:
A—Face her directly. B—Secretly undermine her plans. C—Provide alternate action/distraction
.

“As you can see, Option A has serious shortcomings,” Verlaine said. “Mostly because Elizabeth is powerful enough to squash us all like bugs.” The next slide revealed a clip art cartoon she’d found of a smushed bug, complete with
x
s over its eyes and a tongue sticking out of its mouth. “Which means we need to look at Options B or C.”

Nadia raised her hand, then stared at it, like she couldn’t believe she’d just asked permission to talk. “Uh—I think Option C is a no-go.”

Verlaine shook her head. “No, think about it! We get her to believe there’s some other powerful witch just out of town, or—maybe a magical artifact she’d like to get her hands on. I don’t know what that would be, but you can come up with something, right?”

Still Nadia looked unenthused. “Whatever it is Elizabeth has planned for Halloween night—it’s big. It’s important to her. And she’s been setting this up for a long time. I don’t know whether we could think of anything capable of distracting her. I’m not even sure something like that
exists
.”

Well, so much for the next slide, which had all Verlaine’s ideas about Option C, her personal favorite. Her disappointment must have showed, because Mateo quickly said, “Hey, that leaves us with Option B. We concentrate on what we can do, not what we can’t. Right?”