ONE MINUTE, VERLAINE HAD BEEN HANGING OUT IN HER car, stretched out on the old-fashioned front seat, trying to work a tangle out of her hair and watching videos on her phone. She’d planned to stay late enough that Uncle Gary and Uncle Dave would think she had friends to spend time with; that way they wouldn’t worry so much, or at least they’d stop nagging her about being alone so often. The next, the ground had swallowed her car. She’d been too startled even to scream.
And that wasn’t even the freakiest thing that had happened to her today—not compared to the part where her car flew out of the ditch again.
Or where that new girl was the one responsible.
She dropped her hand right away, like that would make Verlaine not suspect her. Maybe it was kind of a crazy thing to suspect somebody of. But, hello, the car just flew, so welcome to Crazyville, and besides—she knew.
The new girl said, “Hey, are you all right?”
Verlaine had to swallow hard before she could speak. “How did you make the car fly?”
That first split second—that was the tell. Yeah, the new girl, Natalie or whatever her name was, she tried hard to cover. But her first reaction had been total guilt and horror, which made her awkward smile afterward that much more unconvincing. “Wow, you must have hit your head.”
“I didn’t hit my head.”
“You must have! Because, you know, cars don’t fly. Obviously.”
Verlaine tried the door; it still worked, and she stepped out on shaky legs. “Then how did it get out of the ditch? Do you have a forklift or a crane or something hidden around here, Natalie?”
“It’s Nadia. And of course I don’t. Your car never went into the ditch.”
“Um, yes, it definitely did.”
“It only tilted to one side!” Nadia looked … weird. Like, chugged-a-Butterfinger-Blizzard-in-ninety-seconds-and-got-on-the-Tilt-A-Whirl weird. But she was trying hard to sound reassuring. “Probably it felt like you went into the ditch, but you didn’t. I’m sure it was crazy scary. Can’t believe you didn’t scream! I would definitely have thought anybody in the car would have screamed. Definitely. But you—didn’t.”
“If my car didn’t fall in the ditch, why is there dirt in my hair?” Verlaine grabbed the ends of her nearly waist-length hair; now there were twigs and leaves caught in it, too. “Why are there pine needles all over my backseat? And, oh yeah, why do I remember falling in the ditch?”
Nadia went on the offensive then: “Why are you pretending cars can fly? How would I even make that happen?”
Two very good questions. But Verlaine said only, “I know what I know.”
“When you go home and think about it, and talk about it with your dads, you’ll get it straightened out,” Nadia replied, as if she very much wanted to believe it was true. “If you’re okay, well, I’m going home.”
In silence, Verlaine watched her go. Nadia never once glanced back. Wouldn’t anyone normal glance back after something like that?
Verlaine considered whether this Nadia was in fact severely abnormal. She hadn’t looked like a weirdo; Nadia was beautiful, even a little glamorous, with the kind of designer jeans and funky custom-made jewelry that didn’t appear in the halls of Rodman High very often. But making cars levitate out of a ditch? Definitely not average.
Then a moment of doubt crept in … levitation, flying, all of it sounded like stuff from comic books or fairy tales. It didn’t seem possible for Nadia to do that—and besides, why even assume Nadia was responsible? Yes, she’d been standing right there, and holding her bracelet and her hands in that odd position, but that hardly meant she had powers over gravity. She was also the first person Verlaine had met in a long time, possibly ever, who had even been—well, nice to her. Normal. She didn’t know why Nadia treated her nicely, any more than she knew why everybody else treated her like dirt. What she did know was that it had been a relief to talk to someone like it was no big deal, and maybe that politeness meant she ought to give Nadia the benefit of the doubt.
But the car had flown. For sure. Verlaine didn’t doubt that for a second.
And there was no reason for Nadia to deny that it had, unless she was the person responsible.
Maybe Verlaine was dreaming it. Making it up.
But she didn’t think so.
Something weird was going on. Deeply weird. And Nadia was at the heart of it.
In other words—something interesting was finally happening.
Standing there next to her banged-up car, dirt and leaves still in her hair, Verlaine started to grin.
Nadia rushed blindly away, her head whirling. She knows. Don’t be stupid, she doesn’t know. Unless she’s stupid, she knows. You did magic in front of someone outside the Craft, and then you got too upset to cover your tracks, and now you’re exposed.
But she had to stay calm. Mom had always said that most people exposed to magic ended up explaining it away. They didn’t believe in supernatural forces, so experiencing them made them wonder if they were going crazy. Nobody wanted to think they were going crazy. So they made up lies to believe in instead. I was imagining things. A trick of the light. Just the wind.
Steadier now, Nadia adjusted her backpack and tried to figure out how far she was from her house—only to realize she had no idea where she was.
She’d thought it would be easy to get back home, and it should have been. But Nadia hadn’t been paying attention when she dashed away from Verlaine, had taken a wrong turn, and now was in a totally unfamiliar area. Not surprising, given that almost all of Captive’s Sound besides her house, the high school, and the grocery store were unfamiliar at this point. But she’d thought it was too tiny to even get lost in. Apparently not.
Okay, she told herself. No big deal. This whole town would fit in Lincoln Park. Walk long enough and you’ll see a place you recognize.
Of course, in Chicago she could have hopped on a bus, or hailed a cab....
Never mind. If worse came to worst, she could call her dad to pick her up, but that would only make him feel like he had to worry about her. Dad had enough to deal with. She was supposed to be taking care of him and Cole, not the other way around.
So she wandered through the streets of Captive’s Sound, the first time she’d ever explored it on foot.
And as she went, she realized more and more … something wasn’t right. The weirdness she’d sensed here didn’t begin with the magical barrier or end with whatever was beneath the chem lab. No, the entire town was—sick.
The grass had a yellow cast, and lay limply upon the ground. Every tree seemed to be on the verge of death, with straggly branches and chipped, grayish bark. The sky was darker than it should have been in midafternoon, though maybe that was because it looked likely to rain anytime now. Signs of disrepair were everywhere: The pavement was cracked, the curbs overgrown with straggly weeds. The dank mood seemed to have affected the residents, too; only a handful of houses appeared to have been painted in the last twenty years. Most of the homes, however apparently large or elegant, were chipped and faded. Nobody cared about how it looked. Nobody cared about Captive’s Sound.
Nadia remembered the magical barrier at the edge of town. She looked again at the battered, depressed town that surrounded her.
From the crash, she’d known something powerful was in this town. But what if that powerful force was … draining Captive’s Sound? Dragging it down?
In her mind flashed the image of the ground caving in beneath Verlaine’s car, and she shuddered.
A motorcycle’s engine growled along behind her, slowed as it drew closer, and then came to a stop beside her. Nadia’s eyes widened as the driver removed his helmet and she saw Mateo.
“Hey,” he said. “You look—lost, I guess.”
“That obvious, huh?”
Given everything she was attempting to deal with, it should have taken more than a hot guy to make her smile. Yet Nadia knew she’d started smiling.
Mateo didn’t appear to be equally thrilled to see her; in fact, he couldn’t quite meet her eyes, like he was trying to avoid Nadia’s gaze. But he’d stopped for her, hadn’t he? “Okay, tell me where you live. I could—I can give you a ride. And then you’ll know how to get back home after that.”
Nadia tucked a lock of her long hair behind one ear. “So, do you do this rescue thing full-time?”
That made him grin—but only for a moment, because he quickly glanced away again. “I was going to drop by and see Elizabeth.” Mateo pointed at a house farther down the street, off by itself and even more gray and lonely than the rest. “But I’ve got a minute.”
Of course he was going to see his girlfriend. Because on top of being hot and courageous, Mateo was also an awesome boyfriend. Of course.
Still, it was stupid to pass up a lift home, right?
“You’re on,” Nadia said. “I live on Felicity Street—right by the park. And thanks.”
“No problem. Hop on.” Mateo paused, then held out his black helmet. “You should wear this.”
“Thanks.” Nadia slid the heavy thing onto her head, wondering if it made her look dorky—but there was no way she’d turn down an offer that chivalrous. Then she slipped one leg over the bike and settled into the seat right behind Mateo. Her legs were pressed against his legs, her belly against his back.
“Hang on,” he said just before he gunned the engine back to life, and Nadia brought her hands to his waist, tangling her fingers in the belt loops of his jeans. Then they were rolling—and to her, it felt like flying. Mateo’s deep brown hair ruffled in the breeze, and Nadia wished she lived farther away so the ride could last longer.
Much farther away. Say, maybe, California.
Stop it, she told herself, even as they rounded a corner and she slid her arms around his waist to hold on tighter. He’s not available. Nor was he likely to be, seeing as how he was devoted to his gorgeous girlfriend.
But at least she could enjoy the ride.
Mateo found her house disappointingly fast, bringing his motorcycle to a stop right in front. “You guys took this place, huh?” he said as Nadia tugged the helmet off and hoped she didn’t have crazy hat hair. “I’ve always liked it.”
“Yeah, it’s great. Kind of old and creaky, but that makes it cozy.” Their house was a little run-down, too, but it looked more comfortable than ratty, unlike the rest of Captive’s Sound. Then again, other people’s houses probably looked like that to them.
Her father appeared at the front door, and while he didn’t do anything as embarrassing as walking out and demanding an introduction, he did wave.
“Gotta go,” she said in a hurry. “Thanks for the rescue. Again.”
“You’ll be able to find your way from now on.” Something about the way Mateo said that sounded so weirdly final—but he simply lifted one hand in a farewell before putting the helmet back on and driving off.
Dad came up beside her as she watched him go. “Honey, I’m not sure about you riding a motorcycle.”
“I had on a helmet,” Nadia protested. “We weren’t going fast.”
He nodded in a way that told her he was willing to let it go … this time. “So, I see you’ve already made a friend. A guy friend.” Dad smirked, like this was teasing her instead of checking the guy out; really, it was both.
“That’s Mateo. From the night of the wreck.”
“He goes to your school?” Dad peered after him. “You should’ve asked Mateo in, honey; I’d have liked to thank him. That was amazing, what he did that night.”
“He was in a hurry,” Nadia said, walking toward the door with him. “I just caught a ride.”
“Well, if that’s the kind of boy you’re going to be bringing home, I approve.”
“Dad. Mateo’s—it’s not like that. He has a girlfriend already.” For the first time, Nadia realized her father was wearing an apron. “And hey, I told you I’d be home in time to make dinner.”
“I keep telling you, I’m capable of making dinner.”
Nadia frowned. “Then why do I smell smoke?”
Her father made a face. “Let’s say that maybe turkey tetrazzini was … overly ambitious.”
Despite everything weighing on her mind, Nadia had to laugh. “Come on. Let’s see if we can save it.”
Nadia.
Standing alongside the road, her hair fluttering in the breeze—so black it was nearly blue, shining even in the dim light. Behind him on the bike, her tiny frame snug against his and so warm—
Mateo groaned as he flopped back onto the bed. He’d stayed up for hours past the point when his father would think he was asleep—late enough that the alarm tomorrow was going to seriously hurt—but maybe this way he wouldn’t dream.
And yet when he spent those hours thinking about Nadia, it was just another kind of torture.
He’d known from his dreams that she was beautiful, with the kind of quiet beauty that most people wouldn’t see right away. He’d known she would have enormous dark eyes and a heart-shaped face. Some of the dreams had even told him what the heavy silk of her hair would feel like in his hands.
So many of them had showed him how she might die.
Why did I stop for her today? The temptation had come over him, even though Mateo knew better. None of the dreams showed her dying on a motorcycle, so that was probably safe, he’d decided. Everything had turned out fine. But when would he make one excuse too many to be near her, and put her in danger?
If the dreams showed him there when she died, and he refused to be anywhere near her, then Nadia would be okay. At least, none of those dreams could come true—not if he didn’t let them.
Mateo tugged his blanket over his head, closed his eyes, and willed himself not to think about her any longer. He’d done that at least a dozen times that night.
This time, though, he was finally exhausted enough for it to work. He fell asleep.
And dreamed.
Their surroundings were so murky he could barely make her out amid the green-gray swirls. Nadia drifted above him, her black hair streaming out all around. In that first instant, Mateo could only think how amazing she looked—like some kind of angel descending to Earth—until he saw the chains.
Were they chains? Whatever they were they were heavy, and dark, and wrapped around her ankles. Nadia was reaching upward, her fingertips straining toward something overhead and out of sight, but she couldn’t escape.
Nadia’s eyes met his, a silent plea for him to help her, to save her. Mateo grabbed the chains, but they were loose, slippery, and they fell from his fingers—
He awoke with a start, panting, desperate for air. His head buzzed and his ears rang; Mateo realized he’d been holding his breath in his sleep.
The next day, in chemistry, Nadia was determined to ignore Mateo.
Well, not ignore. It would be rude to ignore a classmate who had given you a ride home, not to mention rescued your whole family a week and a half ago. But she was going to be friendly. A just-friends kind of friendly. That was how you treated a guy who had a girlfriend.
Yet she knew the minute he walked in. Her head lifted from her lab table at that moment, her eyes drawn to Mateo as if by some irresistible force. Whatever it was, he felt it, too; their gazes met, and in that first second, she couldn’t even breathe.
Nadia broke the glance, though, and Mateo went quickly to his lab table, where Elizabeth was waiting for him.
She pushed aside her disappointment and tried to focus … not on chemistry, but on the magical power she felt within this room. Beneath it.
Something is buried here, Nadia thought. Buried deep under the foundation of the school—so there’s no chance I can find out what it is.
Whatever it was, its power was almost eerie. Not unlike the weird barrier they had collided with on the edge of town. Magic, but twisted and gnarled from its rightful shape. This wasn’t a power Nadia or any other witch could call upon. It was a power that … drained. Subtracted. Withered. A power that wanted something it didn’t have.
She thought again of the gray skies and dead trees in Captive’s Sound. Was this why? Because the town was near—this, whatever it was?
And, of course, if something was buried, someone had done the burying. At one point, there had been witches in Captive’s Sound. Surely they couldn’t be here any longer, but back in the town’s history, there had to have been powerful witches at work. A coven, even.
Nadia sat up straighter in her seat, suddenly energized. There’s going to be a whole history of magic here. I don’t have any idea how to find it yet, but there has to be a way, and—it’s something I could learn, right? Something I can teach myself.
It was the first time since Mom’s departure that Nadia had thought about striking out on her own. Always, before, the task of training herself in the final, most complex stages of witchcraft had seemed impossible. She still thought it was impossible. And yet—even if she couldn’t take herself all the way, maybe she could at least take herself further.
Yes, there had to have been many witches here, and gifted ones, to control, capture, and bury something this powerfully dark....
Witches, or a Sorceress.
A chill swept through Nadia. Then she told herself she was being stupid. There had only been a handful of Sorceresses in the whole history of witchcraft, which went back to the dawn of civilization at Uruk. A Sorceress broke the One Absolute Law. She was outcast, soulless, beyond what anyone could call “wicked” or “evil”—so complete was her dedication to destruction.
A Sorceress had sworn allegiance to the One Beneath.
Once again, Nadia shivered.
“Cold?” murmured a tall, good-looking guy who sat near her. Before she could answer, he smirked. “Nice thin T-shirt shows that off. I like it.”
Gross. “Die in a fire,” Nadia muttered.
She hugged herself and tried, belatedly, to pay attention to her chemistry teacher, even to the sniggering jerk next to her, to anything at all besides the idea of a Sorceress and the horrible writhing power lurking underneath her feet.