Spell Fire (14 page)

Lucia cracked her knuckles. "He will."

I wished I had her confidence instead of a growing knot of unease. By the time Jett rolled up to the front door, his skateboard wheels spitting grit, the noose in my stomach was tighter than skinny jeans hot from the dryer.

"Time for me to clock out." Lucia strode to the back.

Wow. Thanks for the support.

I tried to summon my inner Gong Li, Maggie Q, or any helpful dragon lurking about. None heeded my call.

"Hey." Jett was decked out in a Rolling Stones tee, black hoodie, and frayed jeans.

"Hey."

As he stuffed his skateboard and backpack next to my purse under the register counter, I said, "We need to talk."

"If it's about lunch yesterday—"

"No," I cut him off. Red-hot embarrassment scorched my cheeks. "It's about your fire fortunes."

Jett straightened up and threw me a wary look. "What about them?"

"Could you perform them the evening of December twenty-first?"

"No. I can't."

"But it would be a fundraiser for Spiral Journeys and your school's Art and Science Foundation."

He started to walk away. "Sorry."

I grabbed his arm and was stung by the erratic energy pulsing beneath his skin. "Terra and Esmun need your help."

His expression morphed from defiant to unsure, to regretful, to resolved. He shook his head. "I can't."

Lucia breezed past. "See ya."

"Good-bye," we said in unison, low and angry like twin growls.

Lucia froze mid-stride. For a second, her pale blue eyes glowed like embers. She sniffed the air like a dog catching a scent. "Everything okay with you two?"

"Peachy," Jett answered.

Lucia's nostrils flared. She slid her thumb and forefinger down one of her sweatshirt ties.

"We'll work it out," I said.

"Sure you don't need help?"

"We're fine," I lied. If she started strong-arming Jett, I'd lose all hope of snagging him for the event. He struck me as someone who would have serious issues with bullies.

Lucia regarded me for a moment, then nodded. I held my breath until the front door closed behind her and whatever demon she had devoured for lunch.

"Jett—"

"No."

"Look, Lucia already sent out flyers to the schools and media—"

"Saying I'd do it?"

"Yes. She wasn't supposed to. The letters and flyers were just rough drafts."

He raised his hands, palms toward me like twin stop signs. "This isn't my problem."

A mother and young daughter entered the store. We both plastered pleasant expressions on our faces. Well, at least I did. Then I reached under the register and grabbed my handbag. I almost knocked over Isis's fairy dust. If I weren't afraid of cooties, I would smear some on. I could use a little magical help. Maybe Isis could loan me her Dorothy shoes.

Divorce or no divorce, I wished I were home.

Chapter Fifteen

"Jett's a jerk!" I mumbled as soon as I was out of earshot of Spiral Journeys. The light breeze and traffic sounds barely registered in my brain. I glanced back twice, unable to shake the feeling someone or something was following me. Although the only footfalls I heard were the slap of my own flip-flops, I was surprised to find the sidewalk empty. I stalked past the consignment store and the gas station with its petrol fumes. By the time I'd reached the artists' collective I felt an inner glow and a definite nudge between my shoulder blades.

The dragon. Good. Maybe it will teach me how to breathe fire.

It shadowed me, silently nudging, teasing to life a pair of heavy, invisible wings. My face warmed. I radiated. All my anger and frustration dissolved into the white light. I rolled my shoulders, delighting in the novel tug of muscles, the heft of massive wings.

I sensed the dragon peering over my head as we traipsed the last few steps to Coyote Crossroads' orchid door. A fit-looking middle-aged couple emerged as I reached for the driftwood handle. They both did a double take when they saw me. The wife pressed her palms together in prayer position. The husband removed his outback hat and pressed it to his heart, bowing his head as he held the door open for me. I nodded and glided past them.

My body elongated, and I swore I grew six inches. Inside the cafe, there was no line. Another miracle. I paused beneath the fern-painted ceiling fan and scanned the wall menu. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but a weird craving fueled my search.

The dragon exerted pressure between my shoulder blades, prompting me. "A Scorpion's Nest smoothie."

Morningstar leaned over the high counter and gave me a once-over. "You feeling okay?"

I licked my lips. "Absolutely." I had never tasted an orange juice, vanilla ice cream, and peanut butter combo, but I slapped the countertop and said, "I'm fine. Hit me."

Morningstar tilted her head to one side and studied me.

Oh — crap. Maybe I'm dragon drunk.

I wiped the drool from the corner of my mouth and stood straighter. I could do this. I could act normal and in control. Behind me, the dragon blew on my hair. I clawed back the stray locks. "Strong ceiling fan."

Morningstar glanced up. I held my gaze steady on her face and tried to remember if the fan was actually on. I couldn't hear the whir of its motor or feel the stir of cool air.
I can't feel anything.
I went for distraction and slipped a ten across the counter.

Morningstar leveled her gaze, then handed me my change. "I'll bring the smoothie to your table."

"Cool." My eyes crossed. I pivoted and fell out of my right flip-flop. Fortunately, the place was almost empty, and I didn't think anyone saw me stumble. Still, my face heated as I chose a table with plenty of space behind it for the dragon and my invisible wings.

"Mind if I join you for a minute?" Morningstar asked when she brought my drink.

"Please." I giggled, giddy with dragon energy. I was a bright, beneficent angel among earthlings. I was —
as crazy as my parents feared.

Morningstar scraped back the chair across from me. "Break time." She examined me a moment and her brow furrowed. "You seem different. Sure you're okay? You haven't been smoking anything you found in the desert, have you?"

I laughed, not my usual sardonic laugh, but the tinkle of tiny glass bells. Tingshaws rang in some parallel universe. Maybe "Dragons and the Time-Space Continuum" could be one of my seminar papers if I got into Columbia.
When
I got into Columbia.

"I'm totally fine." My problems floated beyond the white light, just outside my auric field.

Morningstar fiddled with a paper napkin. I watched as she folded it over and over in neat, narrow pleats. "Where's Jett?"

The giddiness vanished along with the white light. "Back at the store."

Morningstar stared at me, a sympathetic expression on her pretty, girl-next-door face. "You two have a fight?"

The dragon nudged my back. Its ability to meld and retreat puréed my brain.

I stared at the smoothie and pumped the straw up and down. "We had a misunderstanding."

Morningstar slid her hand under her jaw and propped up her head. "Want to talk about it?"

It all gushed out: the fundraiser, the fire fortunes, and Lucia. Morningstar listened, frowning and making sympathetic noises. It was like talking to Jazmin or a big sister. I told her how Jett had shot down my dating suggestion the last time we had been here.

"But you were having such a good time," Morningstar said. "I could tell he liked you."

"Apparently, not enough." I took a long drag on the straw and was punished with a swift and horrendous brain freeze.

Morningstar shredded a corner of the napkin. "This may not be about you."

I pressed my palm against my forehead to stem the pain. "What do you mean?"

"Has Jett ever talked to you about his family?"

"No. Why?"

Morningstar gave the other tables a quick glance, then leaned forward and lowered her voice. "His mother works in one of the casinos. After Jett's father divorced her, she latched on to one loser after the other. A second child and another divorce later, and now she's hunting for husband number three."

"Poor Jett."

"Seriously. I don't think he can do anything at night because he's afraid his mom will ditch his little sister."

"Does his mom work at night?"

Morningstar shook her head. "Rarely. Mostly she dates." She slid sideways out of her chair. "Gotta go. Break time is up."

"Okay. Thanks for telling me."

"Jett's a good guy. He just can't catch a break."

I nodded.
But Aunt Terra and Uncle Esmun deserve a break, too.
The solstice event still seemed like the best way to help everyone. But how could Jett participate if he had to worry about his mom flaking?

I took a slow sip of the smoothie and let the cold liquid slide over my tongue and down the back of my throat.

As the answer came to me, the pressure behind me vanished. My senses snapped into hyper-clarity. No more nudges. No more wings.

Great. The dragon was going to make me do this alone.

Chapter Sixteen

As I crossed the threshold to Spiral Journeys, the chime clanged. My nostrils flared. A fresh odor — a metallic base note beneath the potpourri of spicy incense and floral and woodsy candles — threw me into ninja mode.
Blood.

I scanned the store. Jett loitered inside the register area. He had removed his black hoodie. My gaze slid from the iconic tongue on his rock tee shirt, to his pale forearm, to the blood-soaked bandage on the inside of his left wrist. The smoothie churned to acid in my stomach.

Guilt clawed my throat. I had driven him to this with my stupid plan to save the store. I should have stuck to what I knew: raising disaster relief funds for people on the other side of the country and organizing holiday gift drives for foster teens I would never meet. I sucked at helping people I knew.

Left, right, left, right.
Avoiding eye contact, I skirted the cash register and headed for the bathroom to wash my hands. Something made me stop and turn. My gaze collided with Jett's. A heartbeat passed, then two. His eyes searched mine, calculating.

Realization dawned on me like an unflinching light.
The little…!
Jett had deliberately removed his hoodie. He had wanted me to notice. He wanted to lay a guilt trip on me.

How dare he!
Wasn't it enough I felt responsible for my parents, for the storm victims, for the foster kids, and for Sophia? What about the Winter Showcase, the church bazaar, and getting into Columbia? I refused to take on anything else, not Jett's self-mutilation or his problems. I wished I had my throwing stars. He wanted to cut himself? Fine. I would help him bleed.

Fury drove me behind the counter to where Jett slouched beside the cash register. "You have a problem, you tell me," I said. "Because I'm an only child, and it would never occur to me you might have family obligations like a younger sibling to babysit."

He straightened up. "I'm going to kill Morningstar."

"The solstice event will help Spiral Journeys. It will aid you and your school. So if the only reason you don't want to participate is because of your sister, be man enough to tell me."

"It's not the only reason."

"Okay, name another."

We glared at each other. Jett broke first. "What if I can't make it happen? What if there is a big crowd and the crystal ball does nothing?"

"Has that ever happened?"

"No, but I've never performed before a bunch of people."

I hesitated. My be-the-stage-manager-so-you-can-avoid-risk issues popped into my head. "You performed in front of me."

"Only because I couldn't control it."

"See? The magic will take over. You have nothing to worry about. If it will make you feel better, we'll have tarot readers for backup."

"The valley is lousy with tarot readers. People will demand a refund unless you come up with something better."

"Then I will."

Jett folded his arms over his chest. "What about my sister?"

"I'll watch her."

"I thought you were going to handle the money."

"Aunt Terra can handle the money. Your sister will have my undivided attention."

Jett appeared unconvinced, though it was difficult to tell with his hair hiding his eyes. "Ever babysat before?"

"Sure," I lied.

"Because Isis can be a handful sometimes."

"Isis?" My voice cracked.

"Yeah. You know, you talked to her yesterday. The girl under the table."

"Right."
The seat-kicker fairy dust thief with the lying, irresponsible mom. Jett's mom!
I leaned against the counter so I wouldn't keel over. "Isis is so blonde and your hair is so dark."

"Different fathers."

Quelle surprise.

The chimes clanged overhead, announcing Aunt Terra and Uncle Esmun's return. They breezed in, Uncle Esmun carrying the day's mail. Jett pulled out the hoodie he had stashed under the register and slid his injured arm into the sleeve until his thumb stuck out of a slit he had cut above the cuff.

I focused on my aunt and uncle. "How did it go?"

"Beautifully." Aunt Terra beamed. "The bride and groom loved the ceremony. Their new house has wonderful energy."

"Oh no." Uncle Esmun stared down at the typed letter in his hand.

"What's the matter?" Aunt Terra asked.

Worry lines creased Uncle Esmun forehead. "The landlord is raising our rent."

"I thought you owned the condo," I said.

"We do." Aunt Terra moved closer to Uncle Esmun and placed her hand on his shoulder.

He handed her the letter. "They're raising the rent on this building. Our lease is up in five months."

Aunt Terra breathed in through her nose, then exhaled a long sigh. "Maybe it's a sign."

Jett tugged at his cuff. "What are you going to do?"

Aunt Terra glanced up at Uncle Esmun. "We'll figure something out." She forced a smile. "Don't you two worry." She didn't ask Jett about the solstice event. I waited for him to volunteer. He didn't say a word. Not one word.