CHAPTER TWENTY

TO GLOW, PERCHANCE TO MAGIC

“SHE’S RADIATING.”

“Undeniably, but radiating what? Can you catch the spectrum?”

Steptoe shook his head slowly.

I’d been hit by lightning. Or electrocuted. Or zapped by the biggest static charge ever. Brian and Steptoe looked over me with expressions both dazzled and dismayed.

I tried to stand up and couldn’t, every joint in my body like jelly. Never mind the oversized puppy trying to sit on me. Sparks seemed to be showering from me like a Fourth of July firework. I could feel my blood pumping warmly throughout my body, coursing through my heart and back again, my lungs breathing, and the sensation of my nerves pinging. For a moment I wondered if I’d been given some kind of drug that opened up awareness until every impression became almost too painful to endure. Then, like an ocean that must give way to an outgoing tide, it began leaving me. I felt both relieved and bereaved. The last of it left me, except for that stone in my hand. It alone seemed alive and extremely cognizant of everything around me, no longer an odd piece of marble inhabiting my palm. True, it had warmed and pulsated and shielded me and manifested before but only rarely. Now it felt almost like a window into something more. I stared up at the two looking down at me.

“This doesn’t look promising.” The professor scratched his temple.

“Carter will have our hides. Both of us.”

They watched me, assessing. Steptoe’s eyes had returned to their normal inky color.

I tried to speak and squeaked instead. I concentrated on breathing.

“Perhaps the maelstrom has converted the energy.”

“Or not. I can’t differentiate. We could possibly run an experiment or two . . . You read the booklet on it. Any ideas?”

Steptoe considered before answering. “The only hope I can give you is that it matters a great deal who holds the stone.” He sounded like the shock had driven his street accent right out of him.

“Well, then, we should be all right.” Brian ran a hand through his copper-toned hair again as if his scalp crawled. “It’s difficult to tell. I’ve always had confidence in Tessa, however.”

I looked up at the two of them as the damp seeped into every fiber of the clothing I wore and grew shivery cold by the second. Clearing my throat, I managed, “Guys. A little help here?”

“Oh. Oh! Right-o.”

They both leaned down and caught an arm, heaving me to my feet, bolstering me up between the two of them. I felt like the filling in a wizard-and-demon sandwich but couldn’t have stayed upright otherwise.

“Don’t move,” I begged. They were warm, and my legs felt like wet noodles.

“Ever?” queried Brian. He grunted when Steptoe lightly cuffed him up the back of the head.

“Look alive, Prof. She needs you.”

Brian sighed. “He’s tired. Really, really tired.”

I looked at the ball of what appeared to be silver string, wrapped around and around and around as it sat next to the shoe box. “Pretty.” I reached for it, sagging out of their hold. I felt drunk, and I knew what that felt like because I’d been drunk a few times before deciding that state of being wasn’t for me. I liked being able to think and function clearly. What hurt me terribly before now bubbled through me like a sweet and sparkling wine which fizzled merrily. Had the tide come back in? I swayed.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Steptoe pulled back on his grip of me and kept me from my destiny of face-planting as I tried to pick up the silver sphere.

“But I need my book. Is it still in there?”

“More or less.”

The object my heart desired twinkled at me, roughly tennis ball–sized. “Looks like less.” I could feel my lower lip tremble. “It’s gone!”

“No, if it were, you wouldn’t want to hold it. But neither is it here in its book form because we had to translocate it to protect the three of us from its influence.” The professor gave a hearty sigh. “Not that we were entirely successful, it seems.”

“What’s all that mean?” I peered at the professor. “And stand still. You keep . . .” I waved my hand. “Floating off.”

“This is just an anchor.” Steptoe put the edge of his shoe to it. “We can yank it back if we have to, but it’s safer that way.”

“Oh, who wants to play safe? I don’t!” And a giggle floated out of me that threatened to soar with me into the night sky like a kite. Scout let out a low woof and grabbed at the bottom of my jeans leg. I looked down at him. “Good dog. Good puppy.”

Brian shook his head. “I’d say the overall influence looks to be lawful or chaotic good. Still. Tessa rules it.”

“Pfffff.”

Scout put his wet nose to my fingers as if to agree with me.

They both stared at me, so I stopped scoffing at them. I shrugged. I held up my palm with the stone in it. It had settled into a cozy golden glow, making its marble tones even more beautiful. “It looks fabulous.”

Ignoring me, Steptoe offered, “We could ask the Society for a review.”

That brought the professor standing tall with a vigorous rebuff of the idea. “Never. They’d rake her over the coals.”

“Ewww. That sounds like it might hurt.” And then I hiccoughed so hard I felt my eyes cross. I looked at one man and then the other. “My eyes crossed. Did they stay that way?”

“No,” they answered together.

“We’ve got to get her inside and to bed. See how she is in the morning.”

“Will it fade?”

“Dubious,” the professor said to Steptoe. “I think it might be permanent. It’s possible we’ve got a brand-new sorceress here and all we can do is hope for the best. The giddiness, however, should dissipate.” He shored me up. “I’ll walk her in while you return that to the garage. If you can.”

“Got it, guv’nor, never you mind. It’ll be put away safe.” Steptoe peeled off his jacket and dropped it over the silver ball. “Neat as a bug in a rug.”

“But your coat—” I worried as Brian and I began to wobble our way back to the house.

“It’ll be fine. I’ve got a clean one waiting. Get some rest, ducks. You’re going to be needing it.”

I fell into bed and knew it might be a difficult night. The bed wanted to float off like that kite tried to earlier, and even though Scout jumped up next to me, his weight wasn’t enough to keep it steady. At least the room didn’t spin. I knew what that meant.

---

•   •   •

Morning tiptoed in like a nearsighted bull in the proverbial china shop. I groaned as my phone alarm went off. Scout rolled over my feet with a puppy moan of his own. The bed, as it should, had stayed in place, more or less, although my throbbing head told me we could have been out tripping the light fantastic anyway. I sat up with care.

The stone gave a little throb. I put my hand to the back of my head, just in case it fell off like it felt it was going to—and the stone hummed a little. The pain faded, not only my headache, but the tightness in my shoulders, too. I put my hand down to stare at the maelstrom.

“Why didn’t you tell me you could do that before?”

“Because it didn’t have the power.” Scout yawned, his long pink tongue lolling in and out, and his eyes considering me.

I jumped.

“You talked.”

“No, I did not.”

“Doing it again.”

“Not doing it again.” Scout pawed at his nose. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.”

“And I have to pee.”

“That, too.”

“I’m a dog, what do you expect? C’mon!” He jumped off the bed, tail wagging.

In the hallway, the tell-tales took a look at me and began to jump up and down in their vase in excitement. I shushed them and took him downstairs while he chanted “Kibble, kibble, kibble! Annnnd bacon!” before pushing him outside while I took a shower.

When I returned, Mom had let him in where he concentrated on gulping down a huge bowl of puppy chow while she scrambled eggs for the two of us. Steptoe knocked politely on the side door before coming in to a wave from her.

“Morning, Mary, Tessa.”

I sat down with one eye open and the other eye closed. I rubbed it gently before it agreed to join the wide-eyed and bushy-tailed half of me, which seemed to be neither, but I could hope.

Mom gave me a concerned look. “Feeling all right?”

“Scout had stomach problems. We were out several times during the night.”

“Oh, poor pup. He seems fine now, though.” She smiled as Scout backed away from the empty dish and promptly came over to Steptoe, who was pouring himself a cup of steaming hot tea to go with leftover biscuits. That’s the nice thing about biscuits. A day or two old, they are just as good when dunked as they are fresh out of the oven.

Scout seemed to agree as Simon slipped a pinch of crumbs to him. His tail whacked the kitchen floor noisily.

I glanced sideways at Steptoe, who concentrated on sugaring his tea and not looking at me. At least he wouldn’t tattle on me, even if he couldn’t meet my eyes.

“Can’t miss classes today, and don’t forget you’ve got the game tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine. I just need to wake up a little more.”

Mom looked sympathetic. “Want me to drive you?”

I considered that before declining. “No, thanks. We need milk and eggs, I’ll stop on the way home.”

“And bacon.” She handed me an envelope. “Carter left some funds.”

“Right.” Always more bacon. I considered forming our group into a union and charging bacon by the pound for dues. We had a budget, after all.

My phone chimed gently. Evelyn, waiting for me.

I snatched up my backpack by the door, waved, and hit the sunlight with my eyes squinted up and my feet half a step behind. Thank goodness it was Thursday. Halfway to the Statler house, I realized I hadn’t put on my gloves and that the stone filled the car with bouncy little bubbles that reflected all the colors of the rainbow before they joyfully burst. At the stoplight, I fished around until my soft pink pastel gloves came to hand and donned them before motoring onward. All was right with the world until some idiot in a truck with—not one but two—flags unfurled and displayed in its tailgate came flying through the four-way stop and nearly ran me off the road.

I shook a fist at his disappearing bumper as he soared down the street.

Imagine my shock when all four of his tires blew and he came to a screeching stop in the middle of the next block.

I looked at my hand. The glove seemed fine, but the tips of my bare fingers smoked. Pink smoke.

The last celebratory bubble popped, plinking cheerfully at me as I kept driving until free and clear.

I pulled over and called the house. “Hey, Mom. Erm . . . is Steptoe still there? Or is Brian awake?”

“Yes and not yet.” A thoughtful pause. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Not really.” They couldn’t trace it back to me, anyway, right? I hadn’t actually touched the truck. “I just have a question.”

I could hear the phone being fumbled around before Steptoe answered. “Allo. What’s up?”

“I just blew the tires off an F-150. Or I think it was me. Can I do that?”

“The question is not can you, but should you.” A chair scooted across the floor. “Come along, Scout. You need your constitutional.”

A little more noise, and then I could tell Steptoe had escaped to the backyard.

“What the ’ell happened?”

“I shook my fist at an offensive driver. Halfway down the road, all four tires blew.”

“Interesting. Did you say anything? A chant or a wish or somewhat like that, luv?”

“No. Just strong thoughts. It’s got to be the maelstrom stone, right?”

“I think not. You’re going to have to be careful. Seems the old prof is right. Welcome to sorcery, Tessa Andrews.”