Broken Spell (2 page)

I should have thought this through.

Drake is so sweet. I’m sorry that I involved him and Mona in my problems. My mind tries to make sense of the mess I’ve created. I found the Singularity, the most powerful Sister alive. But telling my coven would change her life forever: she’d be taken away from her family and put under permanent surveillance, not to mention having to look over her shoulder for Night covens intent on using or stealing her power.

I’ve told Connor and the covens that Brianna is the Singularity—at least while she is in a coma, she cannot deny it. And Brianna cannot try again to kill the
real
Singularity: Mona.

Would have I done the same if Mona wasn’t my boyfriend’s little sister? We’ll never know, I guess. Their mother abandoned them when they were little kids. So maybe I felt it wasn’t fair for the family to go through another separation.

But now I feel responsible for Mona. The only person unaccounted for is our biggest threat: Jane. She knows Mona’s identity. Jane tried to kill me to absorb my magic. And Jane tried to do the same to Mona.

Now that psycho is on the loose, maybe scarred by the school fire. She almost certainly went back to the Night covens to tell them
that Brianna is a red herring.

Meanwhile, I’m deceiving my own coven.

Drake is coming back with my tea, and I force a smile. He hands me the burning-hot cup. I blow on the liquid, the steam clouding my new glasses. Drake chuckles.

“You look steamy in those glasses,” he whispers.

When my glasses clear, I turn to him and concentrate for a second. I still cannot see his aura, but I can see other people’s. Most of them are here on leisure, so the light, orange-tinted halos meaning relaxation and contentment are the norm. I missed my glasses; I like being able to see auras. They’re custom-made by a Sister in London. Maybe they’ll be handy when we have to face the Night covens.

“What?” he asks. “You look so pensive.”

I don’t want to worry him, so I change the subject. “I’m glad that I decided to finish high school here in Seattle.”

“We’re happy to have a celebrity in school.”

I playfully wag my finger at him. “No one except Priscilla and you need to know.”

“Still can’t believe your mother let you stay.”

“Because I can do almost anything I want now that I’ve found the Singularity,” I whisper.

“See? A celebrity. Well, a secret celebrity.” His voice goes down a little. “What about after?”

“After?”

His eyes don’t meet mine. “Yeah. After school? College?”

Oh. Drake means my future.
Our
future. Do we have a future?

“I haven’t thought about it.” My voice is as steady as I can manage.

He gives a half-hearted smile. “Come here,” he says. I lean on his shoulder, and he puts his arm around me. We sit as one, relaxed, while I sip my tea.

But my mind wanders. I haven’t thought about that. And, now that I do, I realize I have no plan. No plan for college, for us, or for the mess with the Singularity.

I need a plan.

All of a sudden, our cozy afternoon atop Mount Rainier becomes a turmoil of worries for me. I’m not stringing Drake along. I care for him. What’s wrong with enjoying the moment? Do we need to think about the future?

In any case, I must come up with clear next steps, for me, and for Mona. She’s in this situation because of me.

As for Drake and
me, we’ll figure it out when the time comes.

***

When we drive the winding road home, I ask Drake, “Did you check the brakes?”

“Boulder did. He said they were okay.”

“Boulder?”

His eyes are on the road. “He knows cars. Don’t you trust him?”

“I trust him. I don’t trust this.” I tap the dashboard.

Drake’s car is a 90s
, light-brown Volvo wagon with wood panels on the sides. I’m surprised it still runs.

“Well, we’re going downhill anyway,” he says, shrugging.

I stare at him. Our conversation from before is still tugging at my brain.

“Remember we talked a while ago about college? You said you had no plans.”

He sneaks a peek at me. “Yeah?”

“Priscilla told me you’re taking
pre-calc and physics.”

“Yeah?”

“Sounds like a man with a plan,” I say, trying to make my voice playful.

The silence is awkward, but I give him all the time he needs.

“Okay, I’ll tell you. I have this idea.” He focuses on the road for a few seconds, his hands grasping the wheel tighter. “I’m thinking about studying engineering.” He peeks at me again, eyes a little wider.

“That’s wonderful!”

His hands relax a little.

“What are your SAT scores?”

He answers in a low voice. “Good. I mean, my junior SATs were high enough that I’m not taking them again this year.”

“That’s brilliant, Drake! Why do you hide it?”

He checks the rearview mirror and lets a Lexus SUV pass us by. “I don’t hide it. I just don’t talk about it.”

“But why?”

“Skye, we don’t have money for college. I don’t want to build up everybody’s expectations. Especially mine.” He smiles. “And I don’t want people to see me as a nerd.”

My boyfriend needs some tough love. “For a guy with a high SAT score, that’s just dumb.”

He narrows his eyes. “What is?”

“That you hide it. That you’re not even trying to get into college when it’s clear that it’s something you want.”

Drake blinks before asking, “How can you know?”

“Math and
physics are hard. You wouldn’t take them if you didn’t have a desire to study further.” He doesn’t answer. “Can’t you apply for a scholarship? I mean, even an athletic scholarship? You swim; you could try that.”

His silence is unnerving. I can’t take it. “So what do you say?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Satisfied, I turn my attention to the road. I say a silent prayer to the Goddess: I hope Boulder really knows enough about cars.

***

The mall is as empty as it gets. It’s right after lunch, and Priscilla and I have the place almost to ourselves. One of the perks of having no school on a weekday.

Priscilla has already managed to unsettle the Forever 21 saleswoman—or rather, salesgirl—who dresses in an even more provocative way than Pri. While the girl goes, fuming, to the back of the store, we look at the pieces.

“This is nice,” she says while examining a striped top.

“It’s a cute shirt.”

“No, I mean
this
.” She points to me and then back at herself. “The two of us, girlying up. I’ve been seeing you much less since you started dating Drake.”

I hadn’t realized that. Well, she doesn’t sound upset.

“What do you think of this?” I ask, showing her the shirt I have my eyes on.

She gives it a lightning-quick glance. “It’s not you.”

“Really?”

“A Pink Floyd muscle tee? Please. It’s not anyone.”

I thought Drake might have liked seeing me in the shirt. I put it back on the rack and continue browsing. “What about you? Your boyfriend, I mean?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she answers without turning back.

“Of course you do. Mike, isn’t it? Aren’t you dating him?”

“I don’t have boyfriends, Skye.” She looks at me this time. “I have hookups. Big difference.” She approaches me, takes the denim shirt from my hands and throws it on the top of a rack. “Seriously, find some women’s clothes, would you?”

“What’s the difference?”

“You’re picking men’s clothes disguised as fashion.”

“No,” I say. “I mean, between a boyfriend and a hookup.”

She tilts her head to the side. “What do you and Drake do?”

“We hang out. We go out for ice cream and coffee. He takes me to parks, the movies, on long drives. We have chats into the night. And yes, most of the time we’re making out and stuff.”

Pri smirks.

“What?” I ask.

“You just had the most idiotic smile I’ve ever seen.”

“Wow, thank you.”

She picks up a black-and-white polka dot bustier and studies it. “You are so falling for him. What do you mean exactly by ‘make-out and stuff’?” Priscilla looks back at me.

“You know. We snuggle.” My voice is low. My cheeks get warm.

“You ‘snuggle’? Is this British slang or something?”

The salesgirl returns, and I don’t want to say it aloud. I raise my eyebrows pointedly. “You know what I mean,” I whisper. I look at myself in the mirror. Yep, my face is red.

Priscilla’s grin is back. “I’m confused. I don’t know if doing it makes you naughty or if using euphemisms for it makes you a goody two-shoes. But that’s great. I’m happy for you.”

I can’t be offended by Priscilla. She’s proved herself my friend many times over. And she knows about my previous not-so-great experiences with Connor.

“So what’s the difference?” I ask again, trying to deflect the attention.

She shrugs. “Of all that you mentioned, the guy and I only…snuggle.”

“Really?” I try not to sound judgmental.

“Yeah. And you know what? I like it. It’s simple. It’s all I need.”

She turns abruptly to the salesgirl and starts talking colors.

And I’m left wondering how the two of us, so unlike each other, can be such good friends.

When I arrive for breakfast, my dear little sister has already snatched the last Eggo from the freezer.

“Good morning. Practiced your rituals today already?”

“Shh, Drake. Don’t break the Veil.”

“The Veil? You are really into these witch lessons Skye’s been giving you, huh?”

“Shut up. You don’t know how hard it is to be the s-i-n-g-l-a-r-i-t-y.”

After I unscramble her letters, I say, “Well, you didn’t get magical powers of spelling, that’s for sure. It’s ‘Singularity’, sis. Might as well know your title.”

How is it fair that my little sister is this secret Witch Queen? Mona, a girl whose only interests used to be black eyeliners, purple lipstick, and riveted mini-skirts?

She’s only fifteen. Well, almost fifteen.

“What are we doing for your birthday? Dad asked me last night. I don’t know if you’re in the mood to celebrate.” I scratch my head. “I mean, after the earthquake and all the magic stuff.”

She pours coffee into her milk, taking her time. Then she says, “You’re right. I’m not in the mood. But Dad expects it.”

“I think so too. We owe it to Dad after the scare we gave him.”

Mona was in the hospital after the earthquake. The earthquake that
she
created, by the way. Unwittingly, but still. This all happened while Dad was in Vegas, leaving us alone for the first time ever. He feels guilty as hell. And he doesn’t even know about Mona being kidnapped.

Or about her magical powers.

“What would he like?” Mona asks.

“Why don’t we go to a fancy restaurant? Not too expensive, so you can bring all your friends.”

She looks away. “
All
my friends? You mean, Pain.”

I bite my lip. “Well, you have Skye now. And me.”

She raises her eyes. “That would work.” Then she adds in a hurry, “Okay, gotta go. I’m meeting Pain on Capitol Hill. Then we have to study for tomorrow’s test.”

“No rest for the wicked, huh?”

She snorts and throws a half-eaten piece of Eggo at me. I dodge it, and it lands on the counter. I scoop it up and shove it in my mouth.

“Disgusting,” she mumbles.

***

Skye
comes to visit me. We make out in my room, like we’ve been doing for the past days, the past hours—every chance we get. It never gets old.

With my arms around Skye, I pull her even closer, and we roll on the bed, just kissing while time and worries melt away. I wish this moment would never end.

But it does, and we stay lying down, side by side, looking into each other’s eyes.

“We have to talk,” she whispers.

A while ago, I’d tense up just hearing these dreaded words. But now I’m confident enough that I answer in a relaxed way. “About what?”

“Your mother.”

How about that for a cold shower? I squint. “What? Why?”

Her hand reaches for my face, and she caresses my cheek with her fingertips. “We need to know more about her to help Mona.”

“Do you think my mother could be a witch too?” Questions like this have become normal in our recent conversations.

“It’s a possibility. Do you mind talking about her?”

Still lying down, I shrug. “It’s not that I mind talking about her; it’s just there’s not much to tell. She left us when I was little. That’s about it.” It’s not true. I do mind talking about her. But not with Skye.

Her eyes never leave mine. “Do you have an address? A phone number? Pictures?”

“No, nothing. I have only a few memories.” The warmth of Skye’s hands against my skin puts me at ease.

“Bad memories?”

“Good ones. From all that I remember, she was a good mother. Before, you know,
abandoning
us.” My voice cracks a little.

Skye raises herself on one elbow and hugs me, resting her head on my shoulder. “We’ll talk about her later. Now I just want to stay here with you.”

For many reasons, I happily agree.