Spellcasters (29 page)

“What do you want, Leah?” I said.

“First, immunity. If I back out of this deal, the Nast Cabal will be all over my ass. I want Lucas here to promise me his daddy’s protection.”

“I play no role in the Cortez Cabal—” Lucas began.

“Oh, stuff it. You’re a Cortez. If you say I’m protected, I am. For my second demand, I want joint custody of Savannah.”

“Is that all?” I said. “Whew. I thought you wanted something big. How about weekends?”

Leah wagged a finger at Cortez. “I don’t think she’s taking this seriously.”

“Imagine that,” Cortez murmured.

“Dare I ask why you want joint custody of Savannah?” I asked.

“Because I like the kid. Because I think you’ll ruin her. And because she could prove useful.”

“So in return for granting these two demands, you’ll do what? Take on the whole Nast Cabal for us?”

She laughed. “I’m not suicidal, Paige. If you give me what I want, I’ll back out of the fight.”

“That’s it?”

“It should be enough. I’m the best damned weapon they have. You’d do well to get on my good side now, Paige. Something even you should consider, Lucas.”

“Truly an offer we can’t refuse,” he said. “I believe I speak for Paige in saying get the hell out, Leah. You’re wasting our time.”

She sat upright and leaned forward. All humor drained from her eyes. “I’m making you a serious offer, sorcerer. You don’t want me in this fight.”

“No? If your position is so strong, surely you wouldn’t be here right now. The Cabals always reward talent. Shall I hazard a guess as to why you’ve had this sudden change of heart?”

“Wait,” I said. “Let me give it a shot. I’m a newbie at this Cabal stuff, so I want to be sure I’m getting it right. You say you’re here because you don’t like the choice you made, teaming up with the Cabal. I think you’re telling the truth. But not because they have too many rules. Because, suddenly, you’re not in charge anymore. Sure, you have one incredible power, but that’s it. A one-trick pony. Put you in a room full of magical races and you’re a nobody, a grunt worker. Am I getting close?”

Her eyes blazed.

I continued, “This all started because you went to the Nast Cabal and offered them a deal. Maybe you found out about Savannah’s father or maybe you just picked them out of a hat and they invented the paternity story. They took you up on the offer, and then took over. All you’ll probably get is a nice year-end bonus and an office with a window. Worst of all, you lose Savannah. You sold out for an office with a view.”

A brass urn flew from the bookshelf, sailed across the room, and smashed into the wall. Leah flung herself from the sofa, skewering me with a glare before turning that glare on the urn.

“Whoops,” I said. “Did you miss? Maybe you aren’t as good as you think you are.”

This time, the whole bookshelf jerked free from its moorings. It shuddered, rocked once, and came to rest, still upright. I cast a binding spell before she could try again.

“When I let go, you leave,” I said. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did to my mother. And don’t think for one second that I can’t kill you where you stand, or that I’m not considering it at this very moment.”

When I released the binding spell, Leah glared at me once, then stormed from the house, slamming the door in her wake.

“So her power decreases as her emotions escalate,” Cortez said. “Very interesting.”

“And handy. Did you figure out her tell?”

Cortez shook his head.

“Damn. Well, I can’t worry about that now. I need to discuss something with Savannah.” I started to leave, then turned to him. “Should I be worried? About retaliation?”

“From Leah?” He shook his head. “The Cabals have clipped her claws. She knows the penalty for acting without their assent, particularly if those actions jeopardize a current project. It’s considered treason. Punishable by death. A very unpleasant death.”

“Good.”

Cortez adjusted his glasses. “I have, uh, finished my work. Once you’ve spoken with Savannah, perhaps we could … that is, if you feel up to it—”

“The spell swap,” I said with a smile. “Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten. It’s next on my list. Just let me finish with Savannah.”

“T
ell me about the sorcerer spells again.”

We were sitting cross-legged on Savannah’s bed.

“Almost any strong spell a witch casts is sorcerer magic,” Savannah said. “Like the knock-back spell I used on that paranormal guy? Same thing Lucas used on those people out front. You know some sorcerer spells, right?”

“A few.”

“I can teach you more. Or Lucas can. They’re pretty good, but witch magic would be better. You know, that whole thing about us each being better at our own spells. Except witches don’t have a choice. I mean, we have all the primary spells and some of those are good, like the binding spell. Sorcerers can’t beat us at the protection and healing stuff. That’s why the Cabals recruit witches. If we had our own spells, though, we’d be way stronger.”

“But the grimoires I have
are
witch magic. Strong witch magic.”

“Right. That’s what my mom said, too. Those were her books, you know.”

“My grimoires?”

“Yep.” Savannah picked up her stuffed bear and smoothed its fur, keeping her gaze on the toy as she continued, “She used to talk about them. The lost books. Only they weren’t lost, I guess. The Coven just hid them. She kinda figured that. Anyway, she talked about them all the time, how much she wanted them back, even though they didn’t work.”

I struggled to keep up with her, to piece the fragments together. A million questions ran through my mind, but I decided to start at the end.

“She couldn’t get any of the spells to work?”

“None. But you could, which is weird. You’re an okay spell-caster and all, but my mom was amazing. But, then, she was probably only your age when she tried them, so maybe—” Savannah stopped. “That’s weird, huh? I hadn’t thought of that. You guys both trying them, both being
around the same age. That means …” Her lips moved as if calculating. “You were around when my mom left, weren’t you?”

I nodded. “I must have been four or five, but I don’t remember her. You know, I never thought of this, but I bet we’ve got photos of your mom around here somewhere, in one of my mother’s old albums. She was always snapping pictures at Coven picnics and parties. There must be photos.”

“You think so?” Savannah laid down her stuffed bear. “That’d be cool. I don’t have any pictures.”

“You don’t—oh, God. Of course you don’t. I never thought …”

“That’s okay,” she said. “When we moved … I noticed you didn’t put the pictures of your mom back up. I kinda wondered why not, but then I kinda understood, too. It’s tough enough sometimes, without being reminded.”

Our eyes met. I felt mine well up and rubbed my hand over them.

“I’ll look for the photos as soon as I can,” I said.

Savannah nodded. “Okay. Lucas is waiting for you, so let’s talk about the grimoires.”

“Right. Now why did your mother say they didn’t work?”

“ ’Cause they’re tri—uh, tre—tertiary spells, that’s it. That means you need to know the middle spells first. Only we don’t have them. The witches, I mean. We’ve only got the primary ones. The Coven got rid of the middle ones.”

“Got rid of them?”

“That’s what my mom figured. The Coven decided the spells were too strong, so they burned them or something.”

“Who told her that? My mother?”

“No, no. My mom never had any problems with your mom. It wasn’t her fault, what happened. It was the Elders.”

“So the Elders claimed they destroyed the books.”

“No. I meant it was the Elders’ fault my mom left the Coven. They didn’t know anything about the secondary books. Another witch told my mom about those.”

I rubbed my temples. This wasn’t making any sense. I longed to tell her to stop, to go back and proceed logically from the beginning, but I was almost afraid that if I did, I’d lose everything, like a wisp of smoke I had to catch before it vanished.

“So a non-Coven witch told your mom that these intermediate spells were missing.”

“Right. Mom found this witch who had a copy of one of those grimoires.”

“The grimoires I have now?”

“Right. Mom stole the grimoires from Aunt Margaret’s library. She was the keeper of the books or whatever they called it. Aunt Margaret, I mean.”

“She still is. So your mother took the books and found out they didn’t work.”

“Right. So she went back to Aunt Margaret and asked why. Aunt Margaret figured out that my mom stole them, so she told the Elders. Your mom said it didn’t matter, since the spells didn’t work, but Victoria flipped out and caused a big stink about it and my mom got fed up and left the Coven.”

“Uh-huh.” My head was starting to hurt.

“So how’d you get them?”

“Hmmm?”

“Where’d you find the grimoires?”

I had to pause and clear my mind even to remember. “I found them in the Coven library. In Margaret’s collection.”

“Wow. So she didn’t throw them out after all? Weird.”

“Very weird. When we go there later, to get the ceremony book, I’ll have some questions for her.”

Savannah nodded. We finished talking, then I went to find Cortez.

When I heard Cortez rustling around in the kitchen, I smiled and quickened my pace, suddenly eager to—To what? I stopped in the hallway, and it took a moment to realize that I’d been hurrying to tell him the news about the grimoires.

Naturally, I was excited. If I could unlock the secret of these spells, it would mean not only that I’d have stronger spells to protect Savannah, but that I’d have stronger spells to offer all witches. This could truly be the key to everything I’d dreamed of. With these spells, I could help witches regain their rightful place in the supernatural world.

The implications were mind-boggling, and of course I wanted to share them with someone, but there was more to it than that. I didn’t want to tell just anyone. I wanted to tell Cortez. Logically, as a sorcerer, he probably couldn’t care less about newly discovered witch spells or, if he did, he’d want to suppress them, to ensure his race’s supremacy. Yet I couldn’t imagine Cortez doing that. Somehow, as foolish as it might sound, I felt he’d be happy for me or, perhaps even more importantly, that he’d understand. I could take this news to every witch in the Coven, and some might
congratulate me, might even be pleased for me, but they wouldn’t really understand. With Cortez, I felt it would be … different.

I paused in the hall and considered telling him. Seriously considered it. But I decided to speak to Margaret first and then, if I really had what I thought I had here, I’d talk to Cortez about it.

I walked through the kitchen door to see Cortez eyeing two canisters of tea.

“You don’t want the one on the left,” I said. “It’s a sleeping brew.”

“That’s what I was trying to figure out. Savannah told me the sleeping brew was on the right, but I believe she returned the canisters to the wrong places.”

“I don’t doubt it. Sometimes I think she puts things back in the wrong places on purpose, so I won’t ask her to tidy up. I remember trying that with my mom. Only she decided it just meant I needed more practice tidying up.” I took the canisters. “Both of these, however, are caffeine free, so for today I think I’ll stick with coffee.”

“I just brewed a pot.”

“Damn, you’re good. Let’s grab some, then, and start the spell swap.”

B
efore we started, I popped a frozen lasagna into the oven for dinner. Then I brought out my Coven grimoire and spell-casting journals, and ushered Cortez into the living room. With his help, I moved the coffee table aside. Then I settled onto the carpet, cross-legged.

“This okay?” I said.

He nodded and sat across from me.

“This is all I’ve got,” I said, laying out my grimoire and journals. “Well, all that works, anyway. These are the Coven-approved spells, and in my journals I’ve written down a few others that I picked up. I may not have what you’re looking for.”

“No, you probably do. I believe they’d all be Coven-sanctioned, probably level three or four. I’m still struggling through third level, but there are several fourth level spells I’d like to discuss, in the expectation—or hope—that I progress that far.”

“You know your levels, then,” I said. “Good. But how come—no offense, but you are a Cabal CEO’s son, so you must have access to the best spells available, even witch spells.”

“Obtaining witch spells is not as simple a matter as you might expect, largely due to the ongoing animosity between the races. Most sorcerers won’t avail themselves of witch magic, no matter how practical it might be. For those, such as myself, who wish the knowledge, it can be very difficult to obtain. Witches, quite understandably, are loath to give us access to their power. The lower-level spells are commonplace, but the higher ones are well guarded by the few witches who can cast them.”

“Any decent witch can cast them. Even fourth level isn’t tough, if you have the experience.” I hesitated, remembering what Savannah had said. “Unless, of course, you’re a witch who prefers sorcerer magic, in which case, I suppose, you might never gain that level of experience.”

“Precisely. Even Cabal witches, who can cast the more difficult witch spells, don’t like to part with the information. Given my Cabal standing,
they don’t dare refuse my requests, but I suspect they leave out a critical word or two of the incantation, so it will appear that I simply lack the skill to cast it properly.”

“Passive-aggressive witches. Got a few of them around here, too.” I reached out and took a cookie from the plate Cortez had laid between us. “Okay, so what do you want to know?”

“First, the cover spell.”

I pretended to choke on my cookie. “Let’s just start at the top, shall we? Next to the binding spell, that’s probably the best defensive weapon we’ve got. No wonder the Cabal witches are giving you phony spells.”