9

MATEO WANTED TO ASK NADIA WHAT HAD JUST HAPPENED, but right now it was more important to keep between his father and the outraged Bender family.

“What the hell are you serving in this place?” Mr. Bender demanded. “My little girl’s on the way to the hospital right now because of you!”

“Stay calm, my friend. Stay calm.” Dad was handling the situation pretty well, in Mateo’s opinion, but it didn’t matter. Mr. Bender had lost it.

“You put, what, chemicals in the food? What?”

“Daddy, please!” Tears were streaming down Kendall’s face. “Riley didn’t eat anything. The same thing happened to our teacher at school. It’s some kind of disease.” Nobody else seemed to hear her.

“Somebody is responsible for this!” Mr. Bender yelled. It was just possible to see the panic behind his anger, but it wouldn’t matter what he was feeling if he broke Dad’s face.

“Tony, come on.” Kendall’s grandmother started pulling at Mr. Bender’s arm. “We have to go to the hospital. The ambulance is going to leave any second.” That finally seemed to get through to him, and he turned. Mateo sighed in relief; his father did the same.

Then Nadia put one hand on his shoulder. She must have just handed Cole off to her dad. “Mateo, did you see—”

The golden light behind her. The column behind her so like a tree. The fall of her hair, the expression on her face. He’d seen it before.

Mateo yanked Nadia down to the floor mere instants before Mr. Bender’s fist slammed into the column—just behind where her face had been. The paint cracked, creating a spiderweb around the brand-new dent.

“Hey, hey!” Now Mr. Caldani was furious, too. “What are you doing? That’s my daughter!”

“I—I thought—I was going for that other kid, the one who brought her the food—” Kendall’s father pulled his hand back; he’d struck the column hard enough to cut open his knuckles. If Nadia had still been standing there, she’d have suffered a black eye and a broken nose at the least, maybe even a concussion. He remembered the wet crack of bone he’d heard in his dreams and shuddered. Mateo leaned his head against her shoulder for a moment, grateful to have kept her safe. At least the curse was worth something.

“Daddy, Riley never ate anything!” Kendall wailed. “Why won’t you ever listen to me?”

Mr. Bender looked like he was in shock. Dad put one arm around Mr. Bender’s shoulders. “Listen to me, my friend. You’re not yourself. Your child’s sick. Let’s go look after her, okay? She needs you now.”

It worked. Mr. Bender finally went to the door, surrounded by his family, though he still seemed to be in a daze.

“Whoa.” Nadia slowly rose to her feet, and Mateo rose with her. “How did you know he was going to do that? Oh, wait. Was it one of your dreams?”

“Yeah. I didn’t understand it until just now.” He ran one hand through his hair. This was—not good. At all. “Did Elizabeth do this?”

“She was here. You didn’t see her, but I did.”

“Why? Why go after Kendall’s sister?”

“I still don’t know.” Nadia looked so lost, so sad, that Mateo wanted to take her into his arms.

But then her father was there, still irate at the man who had nearly hurt her, and her baby brother was sobbing. Mateo’s dad came up behind him. “We’re going to have to comp drinks and appetizers for every table,” he muttered, “just to make up for the disturbance, and if people start believing she actually ate something here that did this to her?”

“She didn’t. People will know that. It’s okay.”

“Wish I could believe you. But come on, help me clean this up. What the hell is that gunk on the floor?”

Before his father could bend down to examine the smoldering black stuff, Mateo caught his arm. “Don’t touch it, Dad. No matter what you do, don’t touch it.”

Nadia had meant to go home with Dad and Cole; by now Cole was sobbing. Ever since Mom left, he got scared so easily. Something like this meant nightmares for sure. If she sang him to sleep, or rubbed his back, maybe it would help.

Just as they got to the car, though, Nadia looked up and saw a figure sitting on a corner bench, pale in the nighttime gloom. As always, Elizabeth wore a white dress. She hadn’t gone home; she just sat there with her hands folded, as though waiting for a bus.

“Go home without me,” Nadia said quietly to her father. “I’ll be there soon.”

Dad was too distracted to argue. “Yeah, check on Mateo. Tell his dad to talk to me if that guy tries to sue. I can find a good torts lawyer for him.”

“Sure.”

Nadia crossed the street, walking toward Elizabeth. In a town as small as Captive’s Sound, even this spot by one of the main intersections was quiet and almost deserted. Nadia didn’t see anyone else any closer than the La Catrina parking lot; their only audience was a crow that had perched on a nearby lamppost and seemed to be watching them with odd, grayish eyes.

Elizabeth’s pale face and curling hair made her look like a pre-Raphaelite painting, soft and dreamy, but there was no mistaking the menace just beneath the surface. Like that Ophelia picture, Nadia thought . . . if the girl climbed out of the river and decided to kill Hamlet instead.

As Nadia took the final steps and stood in front of Elizabeth, she was able to see the new burns on her shoulder—two lines that crossed the ones she’d made when Mrs. Purdhy collapsed, but at an odd angle. She willed herself to remember the pattern, to memorize it.

“You’re killing people,” Nadia said.

“They won’t die.” Elizabeth motioned toward the other side of the bench, inviting Nadia to sit by her; Nadia remained standing. If Elizabeth cared, she gave no sign. “At least, not yet.”

“Then why are you hurting them?”

“If you knew more about witchcraft, you would understand. That’s why you must become my student.”

Nadia had to laugh. “Why would you ever, ever think that could happen?”

“Mateo isn’t here now. There’s no need to posture for his benefit. We can be entirely honest with each other.” When Elizabeth leaned forward, her usual hazy inattention to the mundane world around her vanished; Nadia felt the full sharpness of her attention. “You’ve taken yourself almost as far in the Craft as you can go on your own. Already you’re working at the very limits of your knowledge, and you’ve seen the dangers, haven’t you? Face facts. You make mistakes. Some of them are merely amusing, but some of them go beyond that.”

They’d taken Mrs. Prasad away in a van. Apparently she was still under twenty-four-hour psychiatric observation. Her son had already been killed; would she wind up in an institution, too?

“I’m still learning,” Nadia said, as evenly as she could manage. Anger bubbled beneath the surface, but she was trying to keep it under control. The less Elizabeth expected a fight, the more shocked she’d be when she got one. “Every witch learns throughout her lifetime.”

“From her teacher.”

“And from experience. And the spells of other witches.”

“Which they learn in covens, not from some notes Prudence Hale wrote four hundred years ago.” Elizabeth cocked her head, a movement uncannily like the crow perched nearby. “You must acknowledge that you will never fulfill your true potential as a witch without a teacher, and I’m your only chance.”

“Okay, then, I’ll never fulfill my potential,” Nadia snapped. “Maybe I won’t be as strong as I might have been, but—that doesn’t mean I can’t be good. And it definitely means I don’t have to work for the One Beneath, or ever work with you.”

Elizabeth’s smile was easy, even contented. “You can say that so easily only because you haven’t even begun to grasp what your true potential really is.”

What did she mean by that? Deep within Nadia’s revulsion and anger, another emotion flickered—curiosity.

But Elizabeth continued, “I am engaged in magnificent work, Nadia. Work that can reshape everything we have ever known about magic. You should help me. One way or another, you will help me. You can’t imagine the glory waiting for you if you join me—though I can tell you what will happen first, if you continue to resist.”

Nadia was very aware of the weight of her bracelet around her wrist. If Elizabeth cast a spell at this moment, could she counteract it? Did she intend to just strike her down, here and now?

Instead Elizabeth said, “First, I’ll go back to your house, just like I did yesterday. Your father didn’t mention it, did he? But not because he forgot. I promise you, he’ll never forget yesterday afternoon.”

“What did you do to him?”

“A spell of desire.”

There was no such thing as a love spell; love sprang into being of its own accord, and that was all there was to it. But there were spells of desire—spells of lust, basically. Mom had always said it was wrong to use them outside of an existing relationship, “just to spice things up once in a while.” They would be effective on anyone, though. A spell of desire put someone in your bed. Nadia remembered the way her father had wanted a drink, how flustered he’d been when Elizabeth walked in, and thought for a moment she might throw up.

Elizabeth shook her head. “Nothing happened this time. I didn’t use much; I didn’t think I’d have to. Upstanding men are so rare. Your father resisted very bravely. But it’s in his head now—the idea of having me. Your mother left him months and months ago; he must be very lonely. If I go back to him, why, I might not even need the spell that time.”

At first Nadia couldn’t find her voice, but then she managed to say, “Leave my father out of this.”

“It’s too late for that. At this rate, I’m very close to going to Ms. Walsh for a counseling session, when I’d confess that I’d been pressured into an affair by one of my friends’ fathers. I wonder what your life would be like if he went to prison for statutory rape? Would you be old enough to take custody of Cole full-time? Though of course you’d have to drop out of school and work to support you both. Even if you did find a job, you couldn’t keep that lovely house, I’d imagine. There are some cheaper apartments further inland that might do. Then again, maybe you’re not old enough after all. Would Cole go into foster care?” Elizabeth frowned, momentarily confused. “Or do they still have workhouses? I can’t recall.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“What is it you think I wouldn’t dare to do?” With a shrug, Elizabeth said, “You know, I could simply falsely accuse your father. Everyone would believe me.”

They would. Part of Elizabeth’s power was the deep enchantment she somehow held over most of the people in Captive’s Sound. Nobody ever saw the horrible things she did, or questioned the fact that she’d been present for nearly four hundred years. Instead she was excused, accepted, and adored.

“But I wouldn’t do that, Nadia. I would make sure he was really, truly guilty. Then the whole time he rotted away in prison, the knowledge of what he’d done would be there within your father. As I said, he’s a good man. He’d never understand why he committed such a terrible sin. It would destroy him, slowly, from the inside. Even when he did get out of jail, he’d never be the same.”

“Why are you doing this?” Nadia wished she could think of a spell horrible enough for Elizabeth, anything as gruesome as she deserved. “Why do you care if I work with you or not? The One Beneath has you already. Why would He need me?”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, the first sign of anger Nadia had glimpsed in her. “I’m only explaining what will happen if you don’t join me. But you will. Then, instead of punishments, there will be rewards.”

“There is nothing you have that I want. Listen to me. I’m going to figure out what you’re up to, and I’m going to stop you. I don’t care how hard it is or how long it takes. I will stop you. And if you don’t leave my father alone, I swear to God, I’ll find a way to make you sorry.”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” With that, Elizabeth rose and walked away, never even glancing back. But Nadia felt as though she was still being watched, maybe because of that crow with the strange eyes, the one that never stopped staring at her.

Let her go. Don’t argue any longer. Soon you’re going to steal her memories. Steal her magic. And she won’t be able to do anything to your father or to anyone else you love. To anyone, ever again. Let Elizabeth walk away tonight. Next time—the tables will be turned.

Nadia took one last look at the burns on Elizabeth’s shoulder before she was swallowed up by the darkness. Imagined the pattern burning itself into her retinas to leave a shadow, like staring at the sun too long.

Elizabeth came home to find Asa waiting for her, as her servant should; instead of kneeling and awaiting her bidding, however, he was reading a book by candlelight.

“You let yourself be diverted by human cares,” she said, kicking shards of the broken glass in his direction.

He didn’t flinch. “If you didn’t want any distractions, maybe you shouldn’t have sheathed me in someone who has homework.”

“Don’t let your human body deceive you into thinking that this world is anything more than a shell.” Elizabeth went to one of the few pieces of furniture she still used, a chest of drawers so dilapidated that it leaned to one side and creaked as she pulled it open. “A shell we have already cracked.”

“I can’t help noticing that Nadia Caldani isn’t with you.” Asa smirked at her. Insolent beast.

“She will be.” Elizabeth’s fingers touched the thing she sought—a piece of human bone so old that it felt powdery in her hand. “Have you watched them as I bid you? Or are you too preoccupied?”

“I have watched. Their vulnerabilities are obvious, their schedules predictable. I know the vehicles they travel in, the comings and goings of their families, what they order at Burger King, so on, so forth. Which of them will you turn me toward first?”

“All three.”

“Ambitious. You’re not giving Nadia another chance?”

“I don’t want you to destroy them. I want you to sow discontent.” Elizabeth closed her fist tightly around the bone; motes of dust escaped between the cracks of her fingers. “She resists because she believes herself supported. Beloved. Take that away, and she’ll be able to see reason.”

“Tear her friends apart. Understood.” Asa grinned. This was the kind of task demons were best at.

The quartz ring on her finger felt warmer against her skin as she called up ingredients for her spell:

Death in ice.

Hatred forever hidden.

A child never born.

Old memories sliced through her, so familiar that she could bear them without flinching.

“Please,” the young man whispered. He was lost in the woods, a blizzard freezing the world around them, while Elizabeth stood and watched him from within a protective fire. “Please help me.” He had no more strength to speak after that, could only lie there as his skin turned blue and the tears in his eyes froze.

“You will not raise your voice to me,” her husband growled, lifting his arm in a way that meant only a threat, not a blow. Elizabeth wanted to use her spells to strike him down, but no man could ever see magic, could ever know that it existed, and so she meekly nodded and gave him a smile, that he might believe himself loved.

“Why won’t it come?” The girl writhed in her childbed, trusting Goodwife Pike to help her. There were tisanes of certain roots that might have brought the baby, certain spells that would have done more, but Elizabeth knew she would need this memory someday, and so she merely mopped the girl’s brow and waited for the hours and pain to bear her down to death.

Elizabeth turned her hand upside down and opened her fingers. The bone dust remained suspended, a small, swirling cloud. She stepped back and let it rise until it steadied at eye level.

Asa looked bewildered, as well he might; this magic was obscure even for her. “What is that?”

“Something for Nadia Caldani,” Elizabeth said.

“Another warning?”

“Indirectly. Call it a sign of things to come.”

Mateo was dreaming.

He knew when he was in one of the visions by now. But that didn’t make them any less immediate, less real—or less frightening.

The waves churned beneath the boat, twisting his gut with nausea. Overhead lightning split the sky. Mateo hung on to the sides of the boat and screamed, “Nadia!”

She didn’t hear. He could see her in the distance, a dark, small shape almost lost in the whirling gray clouds and water. Her hair whipped and snapped in the wind, like a scarf of silk streaming behind her.

He had to get to her somehow. He had to get to her in time.

In time for what?

The boat suddenly rocked as though it had struck a shoal, but when Mateo turned he saw Gage sitting next to him. Gage’s dreadlocks didn’t blow in the breeze; his expression was stoic. It was as though nothing happening around them had the power to move him.

They were going too fast now. Their boat was slicing through the water at a speed so great it seemed to steal Mateo’s breath away. Nadia was coming closer, closer—but soon he would race by her and she wouldn’t even see him—

“Drop anchor!” Mateo shouted to Gage. “Drop anchor now!”

Gage lifted the heavy metal anchor, raised it high, then smashed it down toward Mateo’s head—

Mateo woke with a start. In that first moment, he could only think, Vision.

But it still felt very real. Too real. Like, for instance, the flat, hard surface beneath his back—and, when he opened his eyes, the night sky above.

Cold wind made him hug himself tightly as he sat up and stared in disbelief. He was no longer in his bedroom. Instead Mateo lay in the rowboat tethered to the nearest dock. His hands were scraped and raw; even in his dreams, he’d tried to undo the ropes, to actually live out the vision playing within his head.

Was it a vision or was it real? Terror seized him at the thought of Nadia out there on the water alone—

No. It had to have been a vision. His boat had never left the dock, he was wearing a T-shirt and pajama pants that left him shivering in the cold, and Gage was nowhere to be seen.

But the vision had drawn him out of his house. Made him do something dangerous. If someone had come upon him during the vision—someone Mateo might have thought was hurting Nadia—

I could have done anything. Anything. And I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.

Mateo shuddered as he realized: This was how people began to go mad.