Spellcaster (Spellcaster #1) (6 page)

Mateo didn’t appear to be equally thrilled to see her; in fact, he couldn’t quite meet her eyes, like he was trying to avoid Nadia’s gaze. But he’d stopped for her, hadn’t he? “Okay, tell me where you live. I could—I can give you a ride. And then you’ll know how to get back home after that.”

Nadia tucked a lock of her long hair behind one ear. “So, do you do this rescue thing full-time?”

That made him grin—but only for a moment, because he quickly glanced away again. “I was going to drop by and see Elizabeth.” Mateo pointed at a house farther down the street, off by itself and even more gray and lonely than the rest. “But I’ve got a minute.”

Of course he was going to see his girlfriend. Because on top of being hot and courageous, Mateo was also an awesome boyfriend. Of
course
.

Still, it was stupid to pass up a lift home, right?

“You’re on,” Nadia said. “I live on Felicity Street—right by the park. And thanks.”

“No problem. Hop on.” Mateo paused, then held out his black helmet. “You should wear this.”

“Thanks.” Nadia slid the heavy thing onto her head, wondering if it made her look dorky—but there was no way she’d turn down an offer that chivalrous. Then she slipped one leg over the bike and settled into the seat right behind Mateo. Her legs were pressed against his legs, her belly against his back.

“Hang on,” he said just before he gunned the engine back to life, and Nadia brought her hands to his waist, tangling her fingers in the belt loops of his jeans. Then they were rolling—and to her, it felt like flying. Mateo’s deep brown hair ruffled in the breeze, and Nadia wished she lived farther away so the ride could last longer.

Much farther away. Say, maybe, California.

Stop it
, she told herself, even as they rounded a corner and she slid her arms around his waist to hold on tighter.
He’s not available
. Nor was he likely to be, seeing as how he was devoted to his gorgeous girlfriend.

But at least she could enjoy the ride.

Mateo found her house disappointingly fast, bringing his motorcycle to a stop right in front. “You guys took this place, huh?” he said as Nadia tugged the helmet off and hoped she didn’t have crazy hat hair. “I’ve always liked it.”

“Yeah, it’s great. Kind of old and creaky, but that makes it cozy.” Their house was a little run-down, too, but it looked more comfortable than ratty, unlike the rest of Captive’s Sound. Then again, other people’s houses probably looked like that to them.

Her father appeared at the front door, and while he didn’t do anything as embarrassing as walking out and demanding an introduction, he did wave.

“Gotta go,” she said in a hurry. “Thanks for the rescue. Again.”

“You’ll be able to find your way from now on.” Something about the way Mateo said that sounded so weirdly final—but he simply lifted one hand in a farewell before putting the helmet back on and driving off.

Dad came up beside her as she watched him go. “Honey, I’m not sure about you riding a motorcycle.”

“I had on a helmet,” Nadia protested. “We weren’t going fast.”

He nodded in a way that told her he was willing to let it go … this time. “So, I see you’ve already made a friend. A
guy
friend.” Dad smirked, like this was teasing her instead of checking the guy out; really, it was both.

“That’s Mateo. From the night of the wreck.”

“He goes to your school?” Dad peered after him. “You should’ve asked Mateo in, honey; I’d have liked to thank him. That was amazing, what he did that night.”

“He was in a hurry,” Nadia said, walking toward the door with him. “I just caught a ride.”

“Well, if that’s the kind of boy you’re going to be bringing home, I approve.”

“
Dad
. Mateo’s—it’s not like that. He has a girlfriend already.” For the first time, Nadia realized her father was wearing an apron. “And hey, I told you I’d be home in time to make dinner.”

“I keep telling you, I’m capable of making dinner.”

Nadia frowned. “Then why do I smell smoke?”

Her father made a face. “Let’s say that maybe turkey tetrazzini was … overly ambitious.”

Despite everything weighing on her mind, Nadia had to laugh. “Come on. Let’s see if we can save it.”

Nadia.

Standing alongside the road, her hair fluttering in the breeze—so black it was nearly blue, shining even in the dim light. Behind him on the bike, her tiny frame snug against his and so warm—

Mateo groaned as he flopped back onto the bed. He’d stayed up for hours past the point when his father would think he was asleep—late enough that the alarm tomorrow was going to seriously hurt—but maybe this way he wouldn’t dream.

And yet when he spent those hours thinking about Nadia, it was just another kind of torture.

He’d known from his dreams that she was beautiful, with the kind of quiet beauty that most people wouldn’t see right away. He’d known she would have enormous dark eyes and a heart-shaped face. Some of the dreams had even told him what the heavy silk of her hair would feel like in his hands.

So many of them had showed him how she might die.

Why did I stop for her today?
The temptation had come over him, even though Mateo knew better. None of the dreams showed her dying on a motorcycle, so that was probably safe, he’d decided. Everything had turned out fine. But when would he make one excuse too many to be near her, and put her in danger?

If the dreams showed him there when she died, and he refused to be anywhere near her, then Nadia would be okay. At least, none of those dreams could come true—not if he didn’t let them.

Mateo tugged his blanket over his head, closed his eyes, and willed himself not to think about her any longer. He’d done that at least a dozen times that night.

This time, though, he was finally exhausted enough for it to work. He fell asleep.

And dreamed.

Their surroundings were so murky he could barely make her out amid the green-gray swirls. Nadia drifted above him, her black hair streaming out all around. In that first instant, Mateo could only think how amazing she looked—like some kind of angel descending to Earth—until he saw the chains
.

Were they chains? Whatever they were they were heavy, and dark, and wrapped around her ankles. Nadia was reaching upward, her fingertips straining toward something overhead and out of sight, but she couldn’t escape
.

Nadia’s eyes met his, a silent plea for him to help her, to save her. Mateo grabbed the chains, but they were loose, slippery, and they fell from his fingers—

He awoke with a start, panting, desperate for air. His head buzzed and his ears rang; Mateo realized he’d been holding his breath in his sleep.

The next day, in chemistry, Nadia was determined to ignore Mateo.

Well, not
ignore
. It would be rude to ignore a classmate who had given you a ride home, not to mention rescued your whole family a week and a half ago. But she was going to be friendly. A
just-friends
kind of friendly. That was how you treated a guy who had a girlfriend.

Yet she knew the minute he walked in. Her head lifted from her lab table at that moment, her eyes drawn to Mateo as if by some irresistible force. Whatever it was, he felt it, too; their gazes met, and in that first second, she couldn’t even breathe.

Nadia broke the glance, though, and Mateo went quickly to his lab table, where Elizabeth was waiting for him.

She pushed aside her disappointment and tried to focus … not on chemistry, but on the magical power she felt within this room. Beneath it.

Something is buried here
, Nadia thought.
Buried deep under the foundation of the school—so there’s no chance I can find out what it is
.

Whatever it was, its power was almost eerie. Not unlike the weird barrier they had collided with on the edge of town. Magic, but twisted and gnarled from its rightful shape. This wasn’t a power Nadia or any other witch could call upon. It was a power that … drained. Subtracted. Withered. A power that wanted something it didn’t have.

She thought again of the gray skies and dead trees in Captive’s Sound. Was this why? Because the town was near—this, whatever it was?

And, of course, if something was buried, someone had done the burying. At one point, there had been witches in Captive’s Sound. Surely they couldn’t be here any longer, but back in the town’s history, there had to have been powerful witches at work. A coven, even.

Nadia sat up straighter in her seat, suddenly energized.
There’s going to be a whole history of magic here. I don’t have any idea how to find it yet, but there has to be a way, and—it’s something I could learn, right? Something I can teach
myself.

It was the first time since Mom’s departure that Nadia had thought about striking out on her own. Always, before, the task of training herself in the final, most complex stages of witchcraft had seemed impossible. She
still
thought it was impossible. And yet—even if she couldn’t take herself all the way, maybe she could at least take herself further.

Yes, there had to have been many witches here, and gifted ones, to control, capture, and bury something this powerfully dark....

Witches, or a Sorceress.

A chill swept through Nadia. Then she told herself she was being stupid. There had only been a handful of Sorceresses in the whole history of witchcraft, which went back to the dawn of civilization at Uruk. A Sorceress broke the One Absolute Law. She was outcast, soulless, beyond what anyone could call “wicked” or “evil”—so complete was her dedication to destruction.

A Sorceress had sworn allegiance to the One Beneath.

Once again, Nadia shivered.

“Cold?” murmured a tall, good-looking guy who sat near her. Before she could answer, he smirked. “Nice thin T-shirt shows that off. I like it.”

Gross
. “Die in a fire,” Nadia muttered.

She hugged herself and tried, belatedly, to pay attention to her chemistry teacher, even to the sniggering jerk next to her, to anything at all besides the idea of a Sorceress and the horrible writhing power lurking underneath her feet.

VERLAINE FLATTENED HERSELF AGAINST THE WALL
, where she was hidden by the lockers. Then she wondered if she looked like an insane person.

Well, it wasn’t like people at this school could hate her any more even if she were crazy. Everybody knew Mateo Perez was basically a big old ticking time bomb of crazy, but nobody went out of their way to be unkind to
him
.

Maybe she actually
was
nuts—but there was only one way to find out.

Peering out from behind the lockers, Verlaine could again see Nadia Caldani, who was putting away her books. She looked like any other girl in school, getting ready to go home like everybody else, and about the only thing that stood out was her really great hair. Verlaine glanced down at her own prematurely gray locks and sighed.

Was she really going to challenge Nadia about this? Was she willing to stand up and say she believed something that bizarre?

My car
flew, Verlaine thought, and decided to trust her gut.

Just as she darted forward into the crush of people in the hallway, Nadia lifted her head and saw her. As soon as she did, she turned away from Verlaine, obviously eager to escape, but Verlaine quickened her steps to catch up.

Then Jeremy Prasad appeared. Verlaine’s heart did that thing it did whenever she saw him—that stealthy thing that felt like turning over and constricting at the same time. It wasn’t that she liked the guy; Jeremy’s personality defied any reaction but total contempt. But oh, God, that face—those shoulders—

“So you’re the new girl,” he said to Nadia, who was now glancing back and forth between Verlaine and Jeremy like she was trapped. “Need someone to show you around? We ought to be friends, you know. The benefits—we can add those later.”

Sensing her opportunity, Verlaine pounced. “Sorry, Jeremy. Nadia and I are headed out.” She folded her arm possessively in Nadia’s, and Nadia was either too surprised to resist or too desperate to get away from the oily sheen of Jeremy Prasad.

“Hanging with the freaks already?” Jeremy said to Nadia. He shrugged, and damn it, the movement of his muscles showed through every inch of the tee he was wearing. “Have it your way.”

As he wandered off, Nadia muttered, “Who is that loser?”

“Jeremy Prasad? He’s pretty much the king of the hill around here, and he knows it. As rich as his family is, and with a face like that, I guess he figures he can pick up any girl he wants, no matter how disgusting he is.” Verlaine hated that she’d said anything nice about him. “It’s not like I
like
him or anything. I just wish—sometimes—it were possible to pour somebody else’s soul inside that body. You know?”

“It would have to be an improvement.” Then Nadia tensed, and Verlaine knew she was about to try to dodge her again. Maybe it would be good to get her off her guard.

“How do you like the Piranha?”

“The Piranha—oh, is that what people call Mrs. Purdhy? I can kind of see it. The thing with the teeth—” Nadia made a face instantly recognizable as Mrs. Purdhy’s clenched jaw. She seemed to have decided that talking about anything but what happened yesterday might be a good idea … as if Verlaine would just forget about it. “Hey, cool dress.”

“Oh … thanks. Glad you like it,” Verlaine said, genuinely surprised. Most people in Captive’s Sound didn’t understand vintage style, though of course that meant Verlaine got to comb through the local thrift stores and secondhand shops without having to compete for their treasures. Today she was wearing a mod dress from the 1960s with big black-and-white squares, exactly the kind of thing most people here made fun of. Verlaine had told herself she didn’t care about the ridicule anymore, but all the same, it was nice to have someone actually get it.

Obviously Nadia thought the danger was past, because she had begun to relax. “The shoes are kind of different, though.”

“I stick to Converse.” Today’s pair was black. “Real period shoes are expensive, and they never turn up in sizes big enough for my boat feet. Besides, if I wore heels, I would go from being the third tallest person at this school to the actual tallest, and yes, I’m including everyone on the men’s basketball team.” They were out on the quad now, away from some of the other students; Verlaine decided it was about time to make her move. “So, yesterday, what was that?”