Salt (4 page)

“I reckon. Tell him an hour,” she says. The buzzer on the stove goes off and Gran is in action again so I head upstairs. Connie stops me before I turn into my room.

“I made you this,” she says. She hands me a little box. Connie’s not really a “make things” kind of girl. Buy them, yes. Make them, no.

“It won’t bite me, will it?” I ask. She crosses her arms and I pull off the lid. Inside is a necklace. It’s a glass vial filled with salt strung on a chain.

“It’s so you won’t forget salt again,” she says. “Practical and cute.”

“Thoughtful,” I smile.

“I’m sorry, Penelope,” Connie says. “I know how much you wanted this.”

I know she means the Enforcer exams. “It’s okay. I have a new plan.” I’d come up with it while running. Running’s good for thinking.

Connie straightens. “Tell me.”

“There’s an office right above the training room that will put you close enough for me to use your magic,” I say. Based on all my research and interviews with other people who took the tests over the last few years so I could prepare myself for it, the magical ones happen there, too. No matter which direction I move, it will be within our limits. I’ll be able to pass.

“They won’t think it’s weird that I’m up there?” she asks.

“I thought of that. It’s the Reporting Unit.” The Reporting Unit is where other witches can go to report demon sightings, strange behavior by other members of the community, and Nons who might have seen them do magic. “You remember the time in middle school when Shira Plum thought that Non kid saw her use magic in the bathroom at Chuck E. Cheese’s?”

Connie nods. “Yeah, but it turned out the kid was just staring at the pizza stain on her jeans.”

I laugh. She made a big deal about how much trouble she’d be in when they found out she’d ruined magic for all of us, and it turned out the little girl was only staring at her pizza-ass. “Maybe a Non saw you in the bathroom.”

“Got it,” she says. Her nose crinkles. “Does it have to be a bathroom?”

“Use your imagination,” I say. “Just be there on Thursday.”

Her phone plays Thomas’s ringtone from her room, and with a smile she’s gone. My sister, ladies and gentlemen: practical and cute. Gran would be pleased.

Next Thursday sorted, I can’t stop thinking about the last twenty-four hours. Today alone I’ve expelled a demon, failed to have magic again, witnessed Enforcers in action, and met a boy who illegally tracks demons. Tomorrow already feels lacking and full of one thing: waiting. Waiting for Monday when Enforcer examinations start. When I’m closer to finding my demon. And I still have a lot to figure out with my magical exams now that Connie won’t be in the same room as me. I can’t fail if I want to be whole again.

I reach under my bed and pull out the white box that’s lived there for three years. Removing the lid, I spread out the pages and pause on a picture of my parents from their wedding. I’ve been collecting as much information as I can about getting my magic back. It started when I was fourteen, because that was the year I heard the story about the Restitution—the ritual that could supposedly restore magic. I was at a sleepover with a girl named Kelly, my only friend aside from Ric back then, and her older brother told us stories that night. I thought it wasn’t real—we all did—but then I started thinking that maybe it could be and I started researching.

I found a few things over the years, and most of it’s lore, old stories that mention the Restitution alongside the Loch Ness Monster, King Arthur, and dragons. The biggest breakthrough was when I found a description of items needed and how it works.

The Restitution ritual requires a demon captured by iron and fire. Then it’s a matter of the right incantation, some herbs—most of which I can’t get without clearance—and some magical weapon that will release magic back into the atmosphere before it dies. There isn’t much information about the weapon outlined in the books, and no mention of
what
kind of weapon it is.

After that, I stopped finding information. It was all a dead end. I knew that meant I should stop looking because the only time things are locked away it means the Triad doesn’t want us to know. They lock all the “dangerous” information away in the library of the Nucleus House. But I won’t stop. I can’t. The only way I can start looking for anything about my magic or my demon or the ritual is there. The Enforcer examinations are my first chance to get clearance to enter the library and start finding the demon. One step at time.

I lower my parents’ picture and pull up the information I’ve written about our demon. I don’t know much about it. I know it had orange eyes, like a pumpkin. But I’ve found a reference that could match that, and a name to start researching: Azsis.

According to lore, Azsis was the one who discovered the power that could be accessed through a witch’s essence. He also supposedly fell in with Lucifer. Others say Lucifer created him when he became Satan. Who knows. Aside from that, there’s nothing about Azsis, not anywhere I can reach, right now. In two days I will have new clearance for the library. Then I will be able to find what he is, where he is, and how to get my magic.

“Penelope Grey!” Ric calls, bursting through my door. I shove everything back into the box and barely get the lid on before he comes in. He raises an eyebrow when he sees me. I tell Ric everything, but not this. He’s a rule-follower, and Ric wants to be an Enforcer almost as much as I do. To prove something to his dad, to honor his brother, and I’ve always felt like that connected us.

But he can’t know this. I can’t make him keep my secret. Enough people already are. There are too many variables, and to explain this would mean I had to explain everything. I only have to keep it all a secret a little longer, and then I’ll have my own magic back, and nothing to tell.

“What’s up?” I ask with a smile.

“I had the worst text from Brian. Why do I date assholes?”

I sigh. “If only you’d had a warning.” I told him not to date Brian, or John before that, or Riley before that, but he never listens to me. I don’t talk to him about boys anymore for this reason exactly.

“Yes, but then I would’ve had no fun,” he says. “Also, it smells like heaven in this house.”

“It always does,” I say. I’m glad he appreciates it, though. I do too. Cooking is not a skill I inherited. He moves toward me on the bed, and I hold the box closer.

He raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing in here?”

I shrug. “Thinking.”

“About?”

“My parents,” I say. It’s not a lie. Directly.

Ric
hmm
s. He never pushes me on them, just like I never push him on his brother. Sean was an Enforcer on a mission that went wrong, one of those really freak demon attacks that no one can explain. Or maybe they don’t want to.

“What’s in the box?”

“Pictures,” I say. I bite my lip and look away from him, before I slide it under my bed. “Ready to eat?” I ask, moving toward the door before he can answer.

He looks at me when I close the door. “Why do I feel like you’re being shady?”

“I’m never shady,” I say.

He chuckles. “You’re always shady.”

“You still love me.”

Ric puts his arm around my shoulder. “I do. Especially when you feed me.”

“You mean you love Gran.”

“Same thing,” he says. He gasps suddenly. “I heard James McEllory is in it this month.”

Ugh. I have calculus with James, and at least one class since middle school. He is not pleasant. He’ll never make it through to the Pairing. “James is a pompous brat who still picks his nose.”

“He could end up being your partner,” Ric says. “Could you imagine being Paired with James?” He gasps, imitates stabbing himself in the chest with an invisible knife, and I resist the urge to punch him. “What if you fell for him? Then you’d be Mrs. McEllory. The wife of the teenage nose-picker.”

I shake my head. That’s not going to happen. It’s a statistic that most Pairs end up getting Bonded—some people click. Plus, the Triad forbids Enforcers to marry other Enforcers, unless they are Paired. It’s rule number forty.

“God is not that cruel,” I say, starting down the stairs.

“Maybe he won’t even make it past day one,” Ric adds.

Chapter Four

The Nucleus House is the center of everything. It’s the hub of our kind, nestled in plain sight and hidden under the noses of Nons. Our whole existence is like that. We go to school with them, work with them, live next to them, and sometimes marry them, but we never tell them our secrets.

When Ric and I pull up outside the Nucleus House Monday morning, I am nervous. And tired. It’s not even 6:00 a.m.

I stare over at Ric, whose blond hair looks especially white with light of the rising sun peeking behind him. It’s like those old-time paintings of angels, with glowing halos build into their heads. I snort at the idea of Ric being an angel, and he raises an eyebrow up at me.

“Nervous?”

I lean my head back against the seat. “I hope this isn’t some kind of shitshow.”

Ric sighs. “It will be. Put a bunch of witches in a room and there’s nothing else it could be. Don’t be nervous. You’re good at this and you are going to prove it to everyone in there.”

I smile and nod. It’s what I’ve been doing all my life. I wish, out of all the people in the world, that I could tell him that I don’t have magic. I don’t know how I’ve kept it a secret from Ric for so long. I tell myself that maybe deep down he knows there’s something different about me. And soon I won’t have to lie to him anymore.

Ric downs his last bit of coffee and flashes me a smile. “Let’s go.”

From the outside, the Nucleus House looks like a normal building with six floors, elevators and offices where Nons work. All bricks, mortar, and fluorescent lights. It’s a lie, a glamour.

The Nucleus House is really sixteen floors, not six, and the elevators don’t just move up and down; they go sideways. It’s actually pretty awesome, because the sideways elevators can connect to other hubs throughout the country, but those are only used in extreme situations. The US is broken into seven regions, but we hid our leaders and decision-makers the same place the Nons did, Washington DC. We’re supposed to blend in, after all.

“I’m going to the capital” means the same thing to everyone. We don’t just glamour how we live; we’ve learned how to make the truth sound like the truth to Nons so they don’t ask questions. It’s another step to integration. Integration is key to survival and anonymity, bylaw 107.

The first-floor entrance is all blue tile. To the left of the entrance, there are four elevator banks. Nons only see two of them; the sideways ones are glamoured. We take an elevator up and it moves quickly and dings three times before the doors open.

Once we’re out of the elevator, we move past a series of doors. One door is marked only for the Triad. No one is allowed to go into their chambers unless escorted or directed with special clearance. A second door leads to a ballroom—which is usually where the ceremonies happen, anointing of babies, Bonding, Pairing, CEASE Squad initiations. All the things that make our community our own.

Ric and I take the third door down the hall, which leads to the training levels.

“Take them all out for me,” he says before he turns to the right to go to the boys’ side. I wish we didn’t have to test separately. I take a breath, turn to the left, and step into the room. We won’t be with the boys again until the Pairing ceremony.

There are like a hundred chairs all set up in lines. This was not what I expected. There are girls sitting in some of the chairs, and I don’t recognize anyone. This wasn’t my time to test, so none of these kids are from my ST classes. There are six other schools, so that’s a lot of girls in one room. A lot of girls I don’t know.

I sit on the other side in the second row by the window and open the Witches’ News Network app on my cell phone. The logo flashes on the screen as a girl with oval eyes and olive skin sits next to me.

Our instructor, Mrs. Bentham, stands at the front of the room. Mrs. Bentham is a bigger woman with hair that spirals up her head. She has on some bright-colored flower-print dress that’s more muumuu than dress, and while she doesn’t appear to be someone who could take on five demons alone in the dark while blindfolded, somehow she did. She was a force to be reckoned with in the 1980s, and has been leading the Enforcer exams for years.

She claps her hands to get our attention. “Welcome to the first session of your Enforcer examination. This is the beginning of the rest of your lives!” She says it with a wide smile.

“Some of you will do well over the next three days. Those of you who prove less than capable will be dismissed,” she says. There’s an emphasis on the last word as she tries to scare us. It works. I’m terrified. “In the end, ten of you will be Paired. Maybe ten. Last month there were only three.” She pauses. “Then we’ll prepare you together and you will take your Partner final. Only the best of those will become Enforcers, and the rest of you will find a place to serve in the Non world.”

Despite myself, I scan the quiet room. These girls are my equals, chosen by the Triad to be here; they’re also my competition. It’s good that I don’t know any of them. My whole life, my whole existence, depends on being an Enforcer.

“Eva Leigh Error,” Mrs. Bentham calls. A tall girl stands with dark-black hair hanging in braids over her baggy shirt and yoga pants.

Mrs. Bentham smiles. “Hello, Eva.” Eva says hello back, obviously nervous. “What are the first three verses of every family Umbra?”

I guess we’re starting now.

Eva clears her throat. “In the beginning, there were angels and demons. Then God created humans, creatures designed more in his likeness than ever before. The humans had a special link to God that caused the demons to burn with jealousy, so the demons set out to destroy them. Though the angels were also touched by the stain of jealousy, they stood by God, and defended his new creations.”

“Annah Jelowski.” A girl in the front stands up, her hands shaking and flapping around in the air. All I can see of her is the back of her short red hair, a blue shirt with her jeans, and a flash of pink on her nails. “What did God do to reward the angels for their loyalty?”

Annah moves her lips robotically. “God plucked the strongest man from humanity, and bound him to the essence of the angels, to bring them closer and to assist in the war against the demons.”

“Stephanie Dudley, what was the result?”

Stephanie stands up quickly, and her purse tumbles off her lap, the contents spilling out over the floor. Mrs. Bentham gives her a chiding look, but Stephanie is quick. “The witches were born.”

She stands at attention, eyes on Mrs. Bentham. “And our sole purpose?”

“Saving those without magic, the Nons.”

Mrs. Bentham walks around the room. I sit forward, ready to spring to action. This isn’t something that we can fail.

“The witches were given something upon their creation. What was this, Shiloh Hearns?” Mrs. Bentham asks.

Shiloh stands quickly, middle of the room, yellow dress. “The witches were given the secrets of angels: language, power, and knowledge.”

As soon as she finishes, she sits. Mrs. Bentham moves toward her. “You are dismissed.”

The whole room is still. Shiloh Hearns looks confused. I’m pretty familiar with train wrecks, so there’s no doubt this is about to be one.

Shiloh shakes her head. “B-but I answered the question.”

Mrs. Bentham shakes her head. “You answered too much. The question was,
The witches were given something upon their creation. What was this?
Your response was the answer, yes; however, it was too much. The correct response would have been:
The witches were given the secrets of angels.
That would be all.”

Shiloh starts to protest. Mrs. Bentham holds up her hand. “One of the rules in the Enforcer Handbook is article 2, number 8.” I close my eyes.
Do as he or she is told.

“‘A good Enforcer listens to directions and does as she is told.” Got that one. “Anything different, even to the slightest degree, can be the difference between life and death. There is no room for under- or over-service when it comes to safety. Miss Hearns, you are dismissed.”

With tears in her eyes, Shiloh Hearns flips her hair over her shoulder and struts through a row of girls. Everyone is breathless as she goes. It’s not until the door closes that I’m sure I hear her crying.

To say the room is intense would be an understatement.

“Since Miss Hearns answered half the question, I’m sure that you can tell us, Che Lin, what are the three secrets provided to witches?”

Che Lin stands up, right next to me. “Language to understand and speak the words of God. Power from angels. Knowledge of the weaknesses of demons.”

Mrs. Bentham gets this funny look on her face. “Well learned. What are the weaknesses of the demons, Miss Lin?”

Her head held high, she answers. “Expulsion, entrapment, and the sacraments: In—” Che Lin stops suddenly and Mrs. Bentham points at Che Lin to sit. I almost feel the relief wash over her. She smiles at me, like she knows she barely escaped some sudden death, before she looks forward.

“Miriam Dunlap, what are the sacraments?”

Another girl stands. “Incantation, iron, and salt.”

“Why do we fight the demon beasts away with these sacraments?”

Miriam pauses. “Because the demons learned that a witch’s essence was a powerful weapon and we must preserve our lives, for our essence contains the blood of angels?”

The room shifts in the silence. Mrs. Bentham stares at Miriam. “Is that a question or an answer, Ms. Dunlap?”

Miriam swallows so loud I can almost hear across the room. Poor girl.

“An answer, ma’am.”

“Then it would be correct,” she says. Miriam sits down almost immediately. Mrs. Bentham calls another name.

Six girls later, one more dismissed, and the rest of the story of our creation is retold. A war where demons seek angelic-witch blood to gain strength, where they single out Nons to build their army and draw out the witches protecting the Nons. They’re determined to gain access to witches through humans, and God through witches.

“Penelope Grey,” Mrs. Bentham says.

I stand to attention and study her lips. For some reason my whole brain is blanking. Like that time in the third-grade spelling bee when I misspelled “idiosyncrasy” because I was so excited I knew it that I accidentally said
z
instead of
s
. This was like that, minus the excitement, and with a lot more at stake than a trophy.

“Who was the original founding member of the Triad, the man God chose to lead his new creation?”

Nope, this is worse than the spelling bee: at least then I knew the answer. What was his name? Ananias Marx was one of the originals, but he wasn’t the leader. Names flash through my head. Jeremiah Hole, Micah Hanley, Jonas Mahoney, Stephen Taylor. Who was the leader? Everyone is looking at me. Oh my God, I can’t fail already. Not on the first day.

“I don’t know,” I say.

All the girls in the room do that annoying “whisper at the same time and no one will hear us even though it’s loud” thing. Mrs. Bentham crosses her arms. “Well, then, Miss Grey, you are dismissed. Mich—”

“Actually,” I start. Now this is weird. I’m pretty sure my brain told my mouth not to say anything. Why am I talking? Mrs. Bentham looks at me; she’s not alone. Too many eyes for me to count join hers, staring at me. This is crazy, but the thought already appeared in my head, and I have to follow through.

“Actually ma’am, the CEASE Squad Handbook, under article 5, number 12C, states that ‘when an agent is responding to a high-stakes intercommunity situation, the agent must always provide accurate information regarding the situation to any member of the community. If the agent deems to forfeit the information due to uncertainty, then said agent may be given admittance to delay an answer while parties seek out an appropriate response to be sought and delivered at a later time in the same day to prevent misleading or misdirecting toward an incorrect answer or solution.’” I pause for a breath. “And this situation, Mrs. Bentham ma’am, would be that case. ”

She crosses her arms. “How so?”

Oh my God, is this working? “Well, I would hate to give an incorrect answer when the correct one is out there somewhere and would only require one to seek it out. It would sort of go against the reason we exist; if we merely made up answers, then more often than not our own kind, as well as the Nons we protect, would surely die.”

I hold my breath, even though I’m not sure how I have any left. I am out of my mind. Mrs. Bentham looks amused, but it passes quickly.

“Have a seat. I expect the answer by the end of the class, and you will prepare for another question.” I pause, and fall into my seat before she can change her mind. I think my body is in shock. “What Miss Grey just did, ladies, is use the negative situation in a positive way, which is exactly what these training classes are for. She thought on her feet, and though it was risky, it paid off. No one else try it.”

I inhale as Mrs. Bentham continues. A couple of girls send me dirty looks, but Che Lin leans over and whispers, “That was brilliant. Everyone calls me Maple.”

I blink. “Like the syrup?”

She pats my hand. “Brilliant.”

I don’t feel brilliant. I feel like I almost lost everything, like my life is hanging on by a thread.

It’s another hour before Mrs. Bentham calls my name again. This time when she asks the question again, I get it right.

Rafael Ezrati.

She asks another question, which I also know, before I sit down. Two hours in, and twenty girls have gone home. I was almost twenty-one. I almost lost everything I’ve ever wanted over a freaking Ninja Turtle. I will not come that close again.