Witch & Wizard 04 - The Kiss (8 page)

“See? You’re smiling.” He looks pleased with himself.

“This is getting a little old, don’t you think?
I
think.” I walk even faster, not wanting to give any ground. Not yet.

“I guess we don’t think the same way,” Heath fires back. “That’s a good thing, right?”

I whirl around to face him, holding out my arms. “What do you want from me?” We’re in the center of the square now, as good a place as any to finally duke this out. “Seriously, what do you
want
?” I yell.

Heath cocks his head to the side, studying my face. “Why do you assume I want something?” he asks.

I purse my lips, thinking of Bloom and
The Book
, of The One and his power, of the guy in the band I had a crush on who sold me out to the New Order. I almost want to cry, but I’ve done enough crying today. Instead I smile and give a helpless shrug. “Because everyone wants something from me.”

“I just like being around you,” Heath says simply, and his eyes have so much sparkle in that moment that I almost believe him. “Is that so bad?”

Is it?
I drink him in, this boy who can’t seem to get enough of me. All sharp lines and long looks. That flirty twist of his mouth that drives me crazy in the worst way… but in the best way, too. He’s not giving up.

Maybe this
is
getting old, but is that because I’m finally aching to move forward? To the next level of this…
thing
we’ve got going?

“Okay,” I sigh. “The Resistance is having a party tonight. I guess it would be cool if you came.” I try to say it as nonchalantly as possible, but I can feel my usual flush creeping up my neck. I shift my bag to my other arm awkwardly.

“Perfect.” Heath gives me that blinding white grin full of perfect teeth, looking more confident than ever. He leans forward, and I hold my breath. “Are you ready to dance?” he whispers.

I bite my lip, feeling the spark.
Keep it together, Wisty. He’s just a boy.

“I might dance.” I can’t resist my own coy smirk as I walk past him and call over my shoulder, “Who knows if it’ll be with you.”

Chapter 19

Wisty

MY BROTHER’S PACING across the living room, gesturing wildly to our parents. I’ve never seen him so agitated, but he seems to be like this all the time lately.

“You should’ve seen the deadness in their eyes as they just crucified us up there, willing to do whatever he said.”

Mom and Dad nod at Whit from the couch, listening intently as they sip their tea, but they haven’t said a word.

“The Council ruled that
magic is forbidden
,” I say. “Don’t you guys think this is serious? Shouldn’t we be doing something?”

Our parents share a long, sad look, but they don’t exactly look
alarmed.

“Did you guys know about this?” Whit asks, and folds his arms. He looks like the sensitive little boy I remember growing up with right then, not the well-built athlete with serious magical power that he’s become.

“We
suspected
…” Mom begins.

Dad stands and touches Whit’s shoulder. “But we couldn’t confirm the rumors, or we would’ve told you.”

“But how?” my brother asks, bewildered. “We’ve got Resistance spies all over the City, and no one had heard a word about this. How did you know?”

“Well…” Mom looks uneasy. “Since the original development of the New Order, we’ve been meeting in secret with an underground network of magicians to share information.”

“Since
before
The One?” I say, shocked. “This could’ve been really helpful a lot of the times we
almost died
.”

“The group dissolved during The One’s rule,” she answers. “Mrs. Highsmith was the only magician still able to safely operate.”

“Did you not find my services useful, Wisteria?” I hear Mrs. Highsmith sing as she suddenly materializes in the fireplace from a puff of ash.

“Always.” I grin at her. Apart from her incredible power and the fact that she’s saved our hides a few times, this is why I love this quirky, crazy witch: our shared pyromania. Mrs. Highsmith dusts the ash off her clothes—which are as eccentric as ever, including an elaborate feathered hat and yards of fuchsia felt—and plops down into the chair beside me.

“We’ve only begun meeting again recently because of suspicions among the magic community about Bloom,” Dad continues. “The man has a bit of a history of being reactionary….”

“Pfft!”
Mrs. Highsmith waves her sooty handkerchief at my dad. “Sweet words. Call a bean a bean, Benjamin. He is a politician, a money hoarder, and the ultimate straight-and-narrow, with no appreciation whatsoever of the arts. The One took power because of people like Matthias Bloom.”

Whit rakes his hands through his hair in frustration. “And he’s got
The Book of Truths
, so people are listening to him. What are we supposed to do?”

“The solution is simple,” Mrs. Highsmith crows. “Do what The One did.”

“What?” I say. “Scare them into submission? That’s exactly what Bloom’s doing.”

“I don’t mean scare them, dearie. I mean
charm
them.”

I look from Mrs. H. to my parents to Whit, nodding. She’s right. The One was a dictator, but it was the people who raised him up.

“But we don’t want power,” I say. “Ruling is pretty much the worst thing ever.”

“Worse than school?” Dad asks, and he laughs when I nod. It wasn’t so long ago that I was just a girl doing whatever she could to cut class, and I guess some things never change.

“So don’t seek power,” Mom says. “But if you want to help the City, find a way to make the people listen. Find a way to win them back.”

“You already have the three of us,” my dad says, putting his arms around me and Whit.

“And we count for
more
.” Mrs. Highsmith winks.

“We love you guys,” I say, grateful for the millionth time that we’d been able to bring them back from Shadowland. “But we should go. I have to get ready to go out.”

Whit gapes at me. “I can’t believe you’re going to the party when everything around us is falling apart.”

“Like you played in a foolball game the day after the kidnappings?” I counter. “We all need ways to let loose, and we can’t fix it all tonight.”

“I heartily agree with Wisteria,” Mrs. Highsmith chimes in. “Now, what about this Heath chappie, dear?” she asks pointedly, as if she can see exactly how my heart pounds inside my chest at the mention of his name. “You haven’t said a single word about him. Why is that?”

“I…” I flush tomato red and chew my lip to shreds, but I still can’t give her a straight answer. I don’t think I know myself.

Chapter 20

Wisty

THIS
SHOULDN’T
BE that awkward, right? Just a simple party. It’s just friends. And friends of friends. Everyone knows everyone here….

But no one knows Heath, so they’re all staring.

“Let’s, um, go over to the corner so we can talk.”

But we don’t talk, because now that I’ve finally admitted to myself that I might
really
like him, I don’t know where to start.

“Nice shoes,” he says, nodding at my shiny silver pumps.

“Thanks.” I smile. But they shredded my heels so much on the way here I have to take them off. Heath watches me slip them off, amused, but holds back any obnoxious commentary. “Nice club, right?” I say, and he nods.

We look at the DJ booth and at the red disco ball. We stare for long minutes at the floor tiles or the gum stuck to the walls… just not at each other.

Awk. Ward.

I’m about to call it quits and just head home, but then Heath looks at me with that familiar spark, that electricity that I’ve been missing all night.

“Look,” he says. “We’re making this too hard. Let’s just dance.”

Earlier today, I thought I was going to play a little more hard to get. But right now, I know that dancing is what I need.

I start swaying back and forth, bouncing to the beat, loosening up with the occasional hip shake. The same rhythmic movements over and over, just like what everyone else is doing.

But Heath’s doing a lot more than the rest of us. Like his Demon tearing apart the foolball field, it seems like everything he does has to be a thousand times more… electric. Powerful. Maybe even… perfect.

While other people bob like lapping waves, he’s liquid motion. His whole body seems to writhe, but he doesn’t look stupid. He looks incredible. He merges styles, swaying to the lulls and shaking to the pickups. It’s like he anticipates the musical shifts before they happen, and his body responds instantly.

I’m kind of inspired, watching him. I let my arms rise up and swirl around. Then my head and hips get into the gyration. We’re dancing by ourselves, doing our thing, but our eyes find each other again and again, stoking the spark.

My hair starts swinging wildly and it whips Heath’s face. He’s laughing. I’m laughing. His arm curls around my waist and pulls me in close.

But just then the song ends and we pull apart abruptly.

Heath’s cheeks are flushed with the exercise, and for some reason, even the sight of his sweat makes my heart rate rise.

“You’re an incredible dancer,” I say breathlessly as someone fumbles with choosing another song.

“You’re pretty great yourself.”

I shake my head. “Not like that. And on the foolball field. No one has reflexes like my brother. But you move like magic.”

“Maybe I’m a wizard, too,” Heath whispers, his breath hot on my neck.

I pull back, surprised. I see from his expression that there’s no maybe. He’s telling the truth. “You’re not registered,” I answer, confused. I thought I knew all the magicians in the City.

“If you could go back and keep your power a secret, wouldn’t you?”

I shake my head instinctively, but then I think of the sanctions Bloom is imposing on magicians. I see what Heath is saying. That kind of information is a dangerous secret these days. And he’s sharing it with me.

I’m more intrigued by this mysterious boy than ever.

“Now, do you want to
really
dance?” he asks, eyebrow raised devilishly, and I know what he’s asking.

Whit and I have merged our power with other people a few times when we had to. Whit brought me back from near death with the help of a little girl named Pearl, and even Byron and I had a notable moment….

But Whit and I have never merged with other magicians.

I look down at Heath’s outstretched hand, then up at those fearless, clear blue eyes. For being one of the most powerful witches in our world, I’m way too intimidated.

“Don’t follow me. Follow the music,” he says. “Let it
inside
of you.”

No more holding back. Time to feel it
.
Deep inside.

I take his hand and instantly feel the surge of his power as it builds on mine. I feel my heart beating out a rhythm, faster and faster.

I do as he says and let in the music. I let in the beat, the rhythm, and the pulse. I let it shake up through my bones and into my muscles. But more than that, I let in Heath’s
power
.

It makes my feet feel light, my hips free. It makes me feel like I’m capable of anything and everything. It pulses hotter than fire, lifts me higher than morphed wings, is stronger than mind control. It
electrifies
me.

Once again Heath’s arms find my waist and we’re drawn together by an almost magnetic force. Pretty soon it’s like our separate moves just start morphing into one pulsing, swaying animal.

The crowd instinctively backs up around us, giving us space, and all the other people seem to fade away until it’s just
him and me
. We’re spinning now, shoulders shuddering, hips popping, then stopping magically at the same moment. Right now, it’s not about us. It’s not about what we want.

It’s about the music.

After years living under the New Order, sneaking muffled strums on a guitar and trying to keep my movements measured and meek, this is exactly what I needed. After a while, I don’t even know how long we’ve been dancing, because the hum of our energy makes it feel like forever and mere moments at the same time.

I just know that I never want to stop.

Chapter 21

Wisty

“YOU’RE NOT WELCOME HERE.”

It’s Byron. I can hardly believe it. I should’ve left him as a weasel.

Heath just keeps dancing. He doesn’t say anything or even acknowledge that he’s heard Byron. And why would he? It’s a ridiculous statement.

“Byron…” I start, but thankfully, he’s walking away.

Or not. He pulls the plug to the amp, and the music dies. Complaints erupt around the room, but Byron ignores them all and stands in front of Heath, arms crossed over his chest.

“You’re upset. I understand,” Heath says, his voice thick with amusement. “But I’m not the problem here. Wisty knows what she wants”—I see where this is going; I start to open my mouth to object, but he’s too fast—“and she didn’t choose
you
, friend.”

Byron gives Heath a sudden hard shove. “I’m not your friend,” he spits.

“Whoa,” I gasp. “Byron!”

Heath takes a step back, still smiling, but from the tilt of his head, I’m guessing he’s not going to give Byron another shot. From what we all saw during the foolball game, Byron would have to have a death wish to attempt it.

Of course, he tries to push forward again anyway.

“I said, enough!” I yell, stepping between them. I throw a spark in warning, and the lights flicker. Everyone in the club is watching us now, eyes round. “Just leave us alone, okay?” I say, lowering my voice.

“How could you be with him, Wisty?” Byron pleads, his voice cracking, and I feel totally awful. “After everything we’ve been through, making magic together.”

That was nothing like this.
“Byron,” I say gently, touching his arm. The heat is gone from my fingers now. “We were never… I—”