It had been two weeks since school started, and without any mishaps or evil happenings, I'd almost fully accepted my current theory that James was enrolled to gather intelligence. I kept a close eye on him (not hard, because he was in every single class) and I saw not one bit of magic from him. Well, magic-magic, that was. Somehow that bastard ingratiated himself with everyone who came into contact with him.
Gone was his eager notetaking from the first few days, replaced by a bored expression as he acted like he wanted to be anywhere else but in that classroom. He hadn't acknowledged my existence in several days, so I was convinced this lackadaisical attitude wasn't for my benefit. James actually was petulant and self-absorbed.
I was tempted to ask him if Gavon returned his power to him at night, but that would require asking about Gavon and New Salem, or talking to him at all, and I wasn't about to do that. But considering he barely took notes or paid attention, and yet was turning in homework every day, he had to be using it. He wasn't that smart.
At least, I hoped not.
Although my fears of impending disaster were gone, I still wanted to add some new tools to my defensive arsenal. So a trip to my favorite bookstore was required. I set aside some time on Saturday, and transported myself three hours west to New Orleans.
New Orleans never used to hold any appeal for me. We'd gone once or twice on a rare family vacation with Jeanie, but with three young girls on a tight budget, none of us ever had much fun. I always thought it too muggy, too touristy, too…not me. Now that it was the only source of magical knowledge, I was a bit more fond of it.
The first floor of the bookstore was dedicated to the new releases and bestsellers that presumably paid the rent. Upstairs, the merchandise was considerably older, the sort of books collectors sell on TV shows for millions of dollars. It was here where I found most of my magical books.
I waved to the young guy at the counter—very sure he didn't remember some kid who came in every few weeks—and climbed the creaky, dusty stairs to the second floor. I inhaled the musty scent, taking a moment to appreciate the knowledge and the age of the books around me. Hunting down magical books was the primary goal, but I couldn't argue that standing in a room of old books wasn't an awesome perk.
Slowly, I canvassed the room, my footsteps echoing with the groaning of the old floor. There wasn't really a rhyme or reason to how I found books, so I'd long stopped trying to force it. I passed over the titles on the spines, knowing that—
"Ah!"
Charms and Enchantments for the Un-Charmers jumped out at me almost instantly. Excitement and magic hummed in my skin as I pulled the book closer. It had been penned in 1637 by Richard Greentower, which was a bit disappointing. Most of the books I'd found were written before the Separation when New Salem was created. Now, I was curious about magicals after the Separation. I even tried a Google search on it, but I wasn't sure how much was real magic, and how much fake.
The book in my hands was definitely the real deal. I found my reading chair in the corner and carefully read through the first few pages. It was the same sort of too-wordy, too-up-its-own-butt kind of tone in all the other books. What was it about seventeenth century magical writers that made them so self-important?
I quickly scanned the appendix of spells, looking for the elusive locator spell I could use to find my sister. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't in there. But there was something that piqued my interest—a charm for a talisman to warn when someone was lying. That could come in handy with James—or Gavon, if I ever saw him again.
I closed the book and pressed it to my chest, glancing around the shelves to see if anything else caught my eye. But this would do for now.
I made my way downstairs, preparing for the story I'd tell the guy at the counter if he asked why I was buying a book on magic. Thus far, it hadn't come up. Most people just saw an old, worn book.
Counter-guy was kind of cute (or maybe he was cute for working in a bookstore). I approached the front desk and slid the book across it quietly.
"Is that it?" he asked, picking up the book and turning it over. "Don't see a price on it. Is it from upstairs?"
I nodded. "Yeah, I'm using it for an art project I saw on Pinterest."
He frowned. "You're going to destroy it?"
"Uh…no," I clarified hastily. "I'm going to…put it with a few other pieces I found on a shelf."
I wasn't sure he believed me, but he went to his computer anyway. He scratched his chin and typed on the keyboard then furrowed his brow and typed some more. "That's funny. We don't have a record of this book."
"O-oh?" I cursed myself. One of these days, I was going to transport myself and leave a twenty in the register. That would've been easier than trying to fake my way through the awkward purchase conversation.
"Look, how's five dollars sound?" he asked. "I mean, it's pretty beat up anyway."
To my eyes, it looked in near mint condition for a book written in 1637, but I wasn't sure what enchantments were on it. "Sure. Five is great." I fished the bill out of my wallet and smiled at him.
"You come in here a lot, don't you?" he asked. He couldn't have been older than twenty, now that I really looked at him. Soft brown hair cut short, dark eyes, a dimple on his left cheek.
"I do?" My face grew warm. "I mean, yeah, I do. I like this place."
"Promise me you aren't destroying these old books, though."
I had to laugh at the concerned tone in his voice. "No, I promise you. I'm keeping them in a dark place, away from light and dust."
"All right then." He handed me the book in a plastic bag and grinned. "See you next time."
"Bye!"
I dashed out of the store before he could ask me any more questions. I was nearly two blocks away before I realized that the cute boy at the bookstore had not only noticed me, but remembered me and had a conversation with me. It wasn't true love, but considering that most guys ignored my presence (or tried to kill me), it was a good start.
With a small giggle, I transported myself back home.
Doing magic at home was always risky, especially on the weekends when Nicole was around, so I transported myself to the sparring beach to attempt it. I was kind of rough with charms—they were different than the normal conjuring and summoning I'd learned with Gavon. Charms, as I understood them, used magic to bring forth the inherent properties of an object, either enhancing them or making them do stuff. The barrier outside my house was a charm based on the protective qualities of dirt and the air, but I'd nearly burned down the complex trying to figure it out.
I only had a few hours of sunlight left, so I passed all the interesting charms for never-melting candles and always-refilling ink wells until I found the one I was looking for.
A truth-telling charm is placed upon a blue sapphire and worn by the Magical. When told a lie, the charm will cause the object to warm considerably. For this reason, the sapphire should be worn as a necklace or talisman.
To enact the charm, place the sapphire in the left hand. Use Magic to unlock the truth-telling properties within.
Considering this book was called "Charms for the Un-Charmers," I'd hoped it would offer more insight into how charms actually worked. Unfortunately, most of what I'd read to date was the same: Find object, use magic. The barrier charms had at least had some more detail to them; I had to think long and hard about those I wanted to protect in order for the barrier to have the maximum impact.
First, I had to obtain a blue sapphire. A quick Google search on my phone showed their prices—way outside my budget. Which left me with the conundrum of either stealing from somewhere else or dropping it all together.
Ignoring my Aunt Jeanie's voice in my ear, I summoned one from the closest jewelry store. It was gorgeous, sparkling navy blue inset into a pendant. I promised myself I was just borrowing it until James disappeared again. Once that was over with, back it would go.
Cupping the pendant in my left hand, I closed my eyes and concentrated on my magic.
You're thinking too hard.
"Shut up, Gavon," I whispered to no one, but released the tension between my brows. My magic was a chainsaw and this required a scalpel. I tapped into the humming sensation under my skin, at once a separate entity and also part of me. And just as I'd been instructed all those months ago, I let go of the control and a zap of magic went to my left hand.
In my mind's eye, I saw the chemical construction, the way the molecules fastened together and formed the larger gem. They gave up their secrets to me, the magic within that was sensitive to liars and untruths. The pendant in my hand vibrated and grew warm, and I quickly opened my eyes to stop before I destroyed it.
I lifted the pendant and eyed it appreciatively. It seemed no different than when I'd summoned it, but at the same time, my magic whispered that I'd completed the charm. The best way to test it would be when I saw James next. Then, I could ask him all the questions I'd been holding onto, and find out whether he was a big, fat—
"That was an impressive display for an un-Charmer."
"Shit!" I screamed. Scrambling to my feet, I readied an attack spell in my free hand, preparing myself for battle.
James, however, held his hand up in surrender. "Before you strike, be aware I have no magic with which to defend myself."
"Yeah, and how am I supposed to know that?" I snarled, raising my fist higher.
"Check that pendant in your hand."
I started then glanced at the jewel. It remained cool against my skin. "Yeah, maybe the charm didn't work."
"I, James Riley, am completely in love with you."
Before I could ask what he meant by that, the jewel in my hand grew noticeably warm. In fact, uncomfortably so. I glanced between it and James for a long moment, unsure which to trust.
"See?" James said with a shrug. "Now you'll know when I'm lying. And I honestly don't have any magic, so please put yours away."
Cautiously, I lowered my hand and let the magic disappear. "What do you want, James?"
"I would like to spar with you."
I glanced at the stone again, and it was dormant. I wondered if the stone knew the difference between lying for real and skirting around the truth.
"So what, you want me to go back to New Salem with you?" I snorted. "As if I'm that stupid."
"I'm not trying to trick you. But I know from experience that a Warrior who doesn't spar becomes antsy. You haven't had another magical around in several months, and Gavon's been refusing to spar with me at all." He sighed. "And the rest of the Warriors are just so…exhausting."
Presumably, he was talking about Cyrus. Another reason I needed to excuse myself from this conversation before it got going. "I've seen this movie, I know how it ends. No, thank you."
He laughed, a throaty, jovial sound that reminded me how attractive he was. "Well, I'm a bit behind on seeing all the latest, so you'll have to enlighten me."
"It ends with you dragging me to New Salem and forcing me to fight for my life against my will," I said, folding my arms across my chest.
"Sparring is not a duel—"
"I know that."
"You and I are almost evenly matched. I think if we trained together, we would find it immensely diverting." His gaze traveled up and down my body, as a smile curled onto his lips. I didn't want to know what else he found diverting.
Instead of arguing, he reached into his back pocket and produced a small book. Holding up his hands in surrender, he came closer and offered it to me.
"This is a book on magical pacts," he said. "All the different kinds, how they're used, who can agree to them. And, most importantly, how to word one so you don't end up agreeing to something you don't want to." He smiled. "I want you to write a pact stipulating that you and I will engage in a sparring match on a regular basis. And because it's a pact, you and I will be magically bound to adhere to whatever safeguards you wish to add to it."
I opened and closed my mouth, already thinking of a thousand ways this could blow up in my face. "Yeah, and you'll just find a loophole."
"Then you'd better make it ironclad." He pushed the book into my hand. "Think about it. The only thing I ask is that you and I can spar. The rest of it, including, I presume, that I not try to harm you or your sisters, is up to you."
I took a step back. Knowing James and the New Salem idiots, there had to be a trick here. But for some reason, I couldn't find one. He was giving me all the power. And sparring, as far as Gavon had explained it, didn't normally result in death.
"This is…this is just some… You're still trying to kill me, I know you are—"
He chuckled, and it made the hair on my arms stand up. "Why do you think I'm trying to kill you?"
"Uh, because you tried to?"
"That was two years ago. I'm a changed man."
I laughed. "I'm sure."
"Listen, Alexis—"
"Lexie."
"Fine, whatever. Lexie." He snorted, as if my name were stupid to him. "I am interested in one thing: a sparring partner who can keep up with me." He stopped and arched an eyebrow at me. "And based on the way you've been so eager to get into it with me, I'd wager you need the same thing."
I wanted to argue, but the words died on my tongue. He was right. Of course, I wanted to protect my sisters from all the crazies in New Salem, but…the promise of getting to fight with a real magical had set my blood on fire. Though the smarter part of my brain knew bargaining with James was bad news, the stupid half of my brain was ecstatic at the idea.
"I'll think about it," I said finally. That, to me, was a nice compromise between the warring factions in my brain. At the very least, it might force James to show his hand and I could find out what this new strategy was really about.
"See you at school," he said with a chuckle.
"Wait a minute," I said. "If you don't have magic, how did you get here?"
He pulled a small black vial from his pocket. "I know how to make potions." He threw the bottle to the ground and he was gone in a thick black cloud.