Enchantment (2 page)

As Adrian stepped onto the rooftop, a boy
named Sam nudged his friend Peter. “Here comes Hocus Pocus.”

Adrian moved away from them. Mom always said
that if he ignored them they’d eventually ignore him back. So far
it only seemed to egg them on. Emily stared across the cityscape
from her isolated corner on the roof. Adrian sucked in a breath and
approached her. The sun caught the edges of her hair and turned
them to copper when she turned and smiled. Her nose was dusted in
freckles that reflected gold like her hair in the sunlight. From
his pocket, Adrian pulled out a red handkerchief and waved it in
front of her until it turned into a bouquet of silk roses.

Emily’s mouth opened in surprise. She reached
out and took the flowers from Adrian. “How did you do that?”

“Magic,” Adrian said with a grin as lopsided
as the bow on the back of her dress.

Emily lifted the silk flowers to her nose as
though they might suddenly produce scent as well. Her smile dropped
when Peter snatched the bouquet from her hands and tossed it over
the side of the building. They hit the pavement two stories down.
“Trickery,” Peter said. “Adrian uses trickery because he doesn’t
know any real magic.”

Adrian’s forehead creased. “Do so!”

“Do not,” Sam chimed in.

“You can’t even float, Montez.”

“Can, too!”

Sam and Peter weren’t the only ones with
doubt written across their face. Emily looked skeptical, as well.
Adrian squared his shoulders and walked to the building’s ledge.
They’d only started floating three feet off the ground the month
before, but Adrian had practiced at home. He found it boring. So he
was a few feet off the ground, so what? It didn’t exactly bedazzle
a crowd.

“Adrian, what are you doing?” Emily asked in
alarm.

“Never fear, fair lady,” Adrian said. “I
shall retrieve your flowers for you.”

Sam and Peter glanced at one another. “Yeah,
right,” Sam said.

Adrian lifted a foot onto the building’s
ledge as though it was no more than a stepping stool. He swooped a
hand into the air. “Fear not, my friends, for I have done this a
hundred times before.”

Okay, so maybe only a few and never from the
top of a building, but it was the same thing as floating down from
a tabletop—only a matter of distance.

Adrian hopped in place and smiled at his
gathering crowd. Their peer leader, Kim, had bent down to help one
of the younger coven members tie her shoelaces. She stood now, her
eyes moving to see where everyone had gone. Adrian smiled to
himself. Kim and Emily would be so impressed when they saw what he
could do, and Sam and Peter would shut their mouths for good.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Adrian called out
louder. “I give you the amazing, the extraordinary, the
magnificent: Montez!”

Kim’s mouth opened on a shout Adrian never
heard as he turned and stepped off the ledge.

He heard Emily, though. He heard her scream
louder than the wind and with a force that hit him harder than the
concrete below. Emily’s scream echoed inside Adrian’s head, ringing
in his ears far too long.

* * *

Not many people know this, not even witches, but
there is a void that exists between life and death; a place without
light or sound. A place free of emotion and pain. There is simply
nothing, until you wake up.

Adrian woke up to the sound of a woman
crying. Not his mother. Someone else’s. Her sobs came out in soft,
continuous bursts somewhere to Adrian’s right.

“Tommy,” she choked out every few seconds.
“Tommy.”

“Mrs. Hughes, is there someone I can call?” a
soft female voice asked.

“Tommy,” the woman sobbed again.

A male voice from the left was firmer. “Mrs.
Hughes, let’s talk in the hallway.”

Footsteps shuffled by and then in the
silence, Adrian heard the click of knitting needles. It took every
effort to pry his eyelids open. That turned out to be the easy
part. He could only see the ceiling and his head wasn’t responding
to the commands he issued to tilt forward, nor were his arms
working to help in the matter.

The click of the needles stopped.

“Nan?” Adrian’s voice came out in a whisper.
“I can’t move my arms or legs.”

“Bones broken,” Nan said. “That body never
walk again. No worry, boy next to you almost ready.”

Adrian tried his fingers and toes—anything
for movement—but there was no response. He felt like a brain
without a body.

“Where are Mom, Dad, and Lili?”

“They try to come, but car crash.”

Adrian tried to swallow, but even that
function was unresponsive. “What happened to them?”

“Car crash.”

Nan’s meaning settled in with chilling
clarity.

Two words. That’s all it took to destroy
Adrian’s life. It didn’t matter if his body was mangled beyond
repair. The world had been drained of all color and joy. What use
was magic if the life of a witch could be snuffed out as easily as
a normal?

Adrian closed his eyes and willed it all to
go away. His upper lip curled in, he squeezed them so tight.

Mom. Lili. Dad. Bring them back. Reverse
time. Make them okay and Adrian swore he’d do anything—even give up
magic forever.

Adrian never remembered hitting the concrete.
He’d blacked out immediately. There had been no pain. At this
moment, it pierced him instantly, like a harpoon to the
heart—speared straight through and ripped from his body, leaving
behind nothing but an achy, bleeding hole.

He still couldn’t swallow, and the sensation
that followed was one of being suddenly gagged and choked. Adrian
did not panic. If he could have moved his arms he would have spread
them open to death’s embrace, but Nan had her eyes on Tommy
Hughes.

The needles clicked together one last time as
Nan set them aside.

Barcelona, present day

The greatest thing about Spain was the Spaniards or,
in Graylee Perez’s case, one particular Spaniard: Carlo Romero.

They walked hand in hand down the central
mall of the Ramblas, inhaling the scent of fresh fruits and flowers
as they passed the boulevard’s kiosks. Barcelona had bewitched Gray
from the moment she arrived.

Whether they were at a dance club or walking
down the street, Carlo had an energy about him that fueled Gray’s
sense of adventure.

She loved the warm touch of Carlo’s skin as
their fingers intertwined, the carefree way he burst into
spontaneous song in the middle of a crowded sidewalk, and the cool
ease with which he did everything; from ordering an espresso to
leaning back in a chair.

Carlo had all the confidence in the world,
and why shouldn’t he? Back home a guy this hot too often translated
into a douchebag jock. In Spain, Carlo was every bit as suave and
cultured as he was pleasing on the eye.

Gray didn’t usually go for guys with
Blake-like builds, but Carlo had only to tilt his head and stare at
her with his lips slightly open, eyes locked on hers, for her to go
all swoony inside. And no, it wasn’t the sun going to her head, a
European fling, or even a rebound from Raj. Carlo was the dream
guy; as in she literally never dreamed she could end up with a guy
this hot. And that smile—like the honor was all his to have been
gifted a face and body pleasing enough for Gray to enjoy.

Carlo slowed in front of a table lined with
jars and told Gray, in Spanish, that this vendor sold thirty
different varieties of olives.

Gray smiled. “Do you like olives?”

“Señorita
Perez,” he
said in his caressing voice, “olives are the essence of life.”

How could Gray not be charmed by a boy with
answers like that? She also liked that he didn’t let go of her hand
as he looked over the selection.

The owner of the stall spoke with a Castilian
lisp. Gray tried to follow the conversation. With Spanish under her
belt, she was making an effort to learn conversational Catalan.
Sometimes the language sounded French, like when the vendor thanked
Carlo for his purchase by pronouncing
gracias
“grah-zee-ahs.”

Carlo stopped on the boulevard, oblivious to
the crowd moving past them. He plucked a large green olive from his
bag and held it to Gray’s lips. She opened her mouth, sinking her
teeth through the soft, slightly sour flesh. She nodded. “It’s
good.”

“The black ones are my favorite,” Carlo said,
popping a black one in his mouth. “They’re sweet, like you.”

Heat spread across Gray’s cheeks.

Carlo was no warlock. He didn’t need potions
or magic, not with a mouth like his, which was as delightful in
speech as it was when pressed over Gray’s lips. When he kissed her,
he took his time. That afternoon, his kiss tasted sweet and
salty.

Carlo fingered Gray’s threaded braid. It hung
past her bare shoulder. For the first time in her life, Gray was
naturally tan and more fit than she had ever been simply because
she walked everywhere.

“Tomorrow night will you meet me at the
Sidecar?”

The Sidecar was a club just off the Ramblas,
not far from S
eñora
Contreras’s sanctuary
where Gray was residing for the summer. Gray would have loved to go
dancing with Carlo, but she had already signed up for a weekend
trip to Sitges, which she explained to him now.

“How will I bear your absence?” Carlo asked
before kissing her in a way that left her thinking of nothing else
as she returned to the sanctuary.

This was escapism at its best. The hem of
Gray’s sundress caressed her thighs like a bed sheet slipping
across her bare skin as she walked away from Carlo. All of Gray’s
senses had been heightened since arriving in Spain—or maybe that
had more to do with enrolling in Benita’s Summer Retreat: a place
where young adults took a break from their powers rather than
develop them.

A witch could do quite well without magic. Or
maybe that was Gray’s way of easing the guilt after the original
Gray (aka: Lee) sacrificed her powers to save Gray.

Off the Ramblas the streets narrowed into a
network of mazes, one of which took Gray to an unlocked iron gate
and into a courtyard with a tinkling fountain, potted palms, and
window boxes filled with marigolds and pansies.

Vinuesa, Benita’s assistant, looked up with a
tight frown from the reception desk. “
Buenas tardes
,” Gray
said, approaching the desk. Vinuesa repeated the greeting stiffly.
She was only a couple years older than Gray but had the air of a
forty-five-year-old. Gray silently called her the Spanish Shay in
her head.

“Muéstrame tus
manos
.”

Gray held her palms open in
front of Vinuesa. The young Spanish woman had never mentioned
Gray’s scars. At least the A and M on her palms were beginning to
fade, retreating like veins beneath the skin. Vinuesa gave them
barely a glance, but it was enough to reassure her that Gray hadn’t
broken house rules by performing magic.

Benita had only two rules: 1) No magic and 2)
No discussing the reason for being at her retreat. Her retreat, the
Spanish witch said, wasn’t a therapy session. Sharing baggage would
only weigh down fellow retreaters and slow down the process of
self-discovery.

The rules may have seemed harsh to a certain
British friend, but Gray preferred this option to the one Benita’s
sister offered. Outside the city, Calida ran a Vipassana meditation
center, which translated into complete silence during the
retreat.

Gray had not traveled all the way to Spain to
hold her tongue. Practicing Spanish was one of the appeals for
choosing this particular country.

Before Gray had a chance to round the corner,
she heard Hannah call out, “Good afternoon!”

Gray smiled at the sound of her friend’s
voice and stopped to wait for her.

“Do you like my new bracelet?” Hannah asked
Vinuesa as she inspected her palms. “I bought it from a woman on
the Rambles.”

“
La Ramblas
,” Vinuesa corrected,
irritably.

Hannah rolled her eyes. “I know what it’s
called. I like the way I say it better. Where have you been?” she
asked a moment later, eyeing Gray up and down in a way that
suggested Gray had been up to something devious.

In Hannah’s dreams.

“I was out shopping like you.”

“With?”

Gray’s cheeks warmed. “With Carlo.”

“Oh, so you didn’t do much shopping.”

“Hannah!”

“What?”

Gray was about to answer when Hannah shushed
her. “Here comes Will. Poor bloke. He fancies you, you know?”

Gray’s cheeks flamed brighter.

Will was a sweetheart and one of Gray’s
closest friends since arriving in Barcelona, but she didn’t feel
romantic toward him in any shape or form.

Will’s cheeks also brightened when he
approached them in the hall.

“Going somewhere?” Hannah asked.

Will looked at Gray when he spoke. “I thought
I’d buy a book for the trip.”

Gray opened her mouth to answer, but Hannah
was already speaking. “Well, you better hurry up. Vinuesa isn’t
going to wait if you’re not back in time.”

“Oh, right,” Will said. “Then I’ll just—”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, Will,” Gray said.
“Hannah and I haven’t even packed yet.”

Will’s face lit up. “I’m packed. Would either
of you like me to pick up anything while I’m out?”

“Crisps,” Hannah said. “For the road.”

“What about you, Gray? Do you want anything
while I’m out?”

“No, thanks, Will. And don’t worry about the
chips unless you happen to pass a bag on the street.” Gray smacked
Hannah playfully.

Hannah smacked her back.
Once Will was on his way, Hannah looped her arm around Gray’s and
dragged her to her room. “Help me pack.”