Spellcaster

“Anyway, I had one friend that I could do spells with and talk to about the supernatural, and that didn’t end so well.”

“What do you mean?”

Angelique fidgeted uncomfortably. “She was always a little—how can I put this?—dark. But then, some guy she liked totally used her. We got into a fight because I refused to help her do a love spell on him. She ended up transferring out after freshman year.” She paused, giving me a tight-lipped, grim smile. “It really, really just sucked losing someone I could relate to—over some lame guy, of all things.”

“Who’s the guy? From Vince A?” Not that I was surprised. You’d think they put pheromones in the water fountains, the hump-tastic way people carried on at that place.

“Not important. Besides, he’s pretty much gone,” Angelique said dismissively. “Anyway, I really don’t want to lose you, too—to something worse than some guy. And bonus points, you’re not already a little unbalanced like she was. So let’s just make sure you’re safe.”

“Aw, Angelique…” I began, but she returned to her brisk, businesslike demeanor, grabbing the dress from me and returning to her place on the floor.

“Do you care if I rip a piece off the dress?” she asked. As I was about to give her permission—the thing looked like it’d been through a blender, anyway—she ripped the satin liner from underneath the dress, laying it on the already destroyed throw rug and motioned for me to join her on the floor.

As I sat down, she busied herself, pulling out some candles and a small, round marble canister from her desk drawer.

“What we’re going to do is find out if you’re in any kind of danger, or if there’s anything you need to be watching out for. Some of the stories I’ve read in the book, well, let’s just say that true love is something extremely powerful. Not just for you and Brendan—”

“You don’t have to roll your eyes every time you say his name,” I interrupted her. Angelique gave me a crabby look.

“You and Brendan—” she opened her blue-gray eyes really wide in exaggeration “—could be targets if someone wanted to hurt you, or steal your mystical energy for personal gain. Maybe that’s why I’m freaking. I just can’t help but think that this doom-and-gloom feeling I’m having has to do with you. I mean, I meet you, I start becoming empath-y emo girl. And you’re the only person I know who had a necklace that marked you as someone’s doomed true love. I mean, there’s a lot of mystical flotsam and jetsam around you.”

Reflexively my hands flew up to my neck, where a silver medallion used to sit. My brother, Ethan, had bought it at a garage sale, telling me it seemed like something I’d like. He had been right: I absolutely loved it—it was etched with a medieval crest, and I’d worn it every day, having no idea that it was a magical charm, finding me in all my past lives to identify me as Archer’s reincarnated soul mate. It was lost in the fight with Anthony, disappearing somewhere in the bushes near Belvedere Castle in Central Park. I liked to think it just poofed away, vanishing into thin air. The thing was magical, after all.

“Good point,” I conceded. “Did your senses feel heightened with that ex-friend of yours?”

“At first,” Angelique admitted. “But she got really dark, and we just weren’t on the same wavelength anymore. Regardless, it was never as strong as it’s been with you.”

“Well, maybe what you’re sensing has nothing to do with me,” I said hopefully. “Maybe your neighbors are into something freaky.”

“Oh, they are. I’ve heard them some nights.” She shuddered, a disgusted look on her face. “And that really sucks as an empath, by that way. So let’s hope it’s them.” Angelique crossed her fingers and shook them at me before lighting some rosemary incense—her go-to herb to help her focus. She opened a glass vial and let a few small droplets fall into a marble canister.

“What is that?” I asked, sniffing the fragrant air. “Not the rosemary—but that other thing?”

“Just some lavender to help you calm down and focus,” she said, rolling the canister between her fingers before placing it in my hand.

“These are blessed salt crystals. If you’re in any danger, these will show it.”

“Where do you get this stuff from, anyway?” I pictured her knocking on an unmarked door in some secret back alley. None of the witchcraft shops we’d been to stocked anything this cool—they mostly sold candles and overpriced tarot cards.

“Mostly I just buy online,” she said. Of course. Maybe a troll delivers it… .

Angelique held her hand, palm down, over the swatch of shimmery black fabric. I did the same.

“Em, repeat after me,” she instructed, her eyes closed.

“Goddess, we seek your direction

for your daughter who needs protection

If danger lurks, show us

sumn in periculo”

I kept my eyes shut and repeated the lines as I clutched the smooth marble jar, not quite sure what the crystals would do. Would they form the shape of Anthony’s face, meaning he was coming for me? Would they burst into flames? Would they fly in my eyes, blinding me? Even with my disinterest in Latin, I could figure out what that last line meant: Am I in danger?

“Now sprinkle the crystals on the satin. And focus,” Angelique told me.

I touched my hand to the black fabric, remembering how happy I had been when I first put on that dress. How Brendan held my hand and sweetly kissed the scar on my arm, making me feel beautiful. Then I visibly flinched when I thought about how the night turned out—how Anthony chased me through Central Park. How Brendan and Anthony tangled in a brutal, bare-knuckled brawl on Belvedere Castle’s cliff. How Brendan pushed me out of the way when Anthony came barreling for me. How Brendan barely survived, holding on to the rocks while Anthony plummeted into the murky green water of Turtle Pond.

With a deep breath, I slowly poured out the sandlike crystals. It hit the satin with a soft metallic sound.

I opened my eyes and forced them to peer down at the pile of crystals—and my face broke out in a relieved smile.

“Oh, the crystals didn’t do anything,” I exclaimed, staring happily down at the glistening black salt piled on the frayed satin.

I poked the grains with my finger, making an indentation in the pyramid-shaped pile. It felt exactly like digging in sand.

“Well, that was a big nothing,” I breathed, looking up at Angelique.

And then my smile faded.

Angelique stared down at the crystals, her pale skin even paler. Then her eyes met mine.

“Emma, that’s bad,” she whispered hoarsely. “Very, very bad.”

“Very bad,” I repeated woodenly, taking a deep breath. “Can you define very bad, please? How bad?”

“You’re in danger,” Angelique said, her normally level voice raising a pitch. “A world of danger.”

I dropped the marble canister from my hands, and it hit the floor with a dull clacking sound.

“I don’t get it,” I said numbly. “They’re just black crystals. They didn’t burst into flames, or fly across the room… .”

“It’s salt. It starts out a clear, whitish color. You know, like salt?” Angelique’s voice rose even higher as she stared at the coal-colored pile. “The color reflects the energy being directed at you. White or green would be good, signs of pure energy. Red would be love and passion.”

Angelique poked her finger in the crystals as I had, only she smoothed them across the fabric. She squinted, peering at the grains. She pressed her finger into the black crystals and lifted one red grain, embedded in her skin. It looked like a drop of blood.

“One crystal for love?” I croaked hoarsely.

“One. Just one for the soul mates who have been ripped apart and reunited over centuries. Just one for two people—the only two out of a thousand years and who knows how many reincarnations—who could overcome the curse because Brendan loves you enough to sacrifice himself for you.” Her voice was almost monotone as she rubbed her fingers together, letting the one red crystal fall into the pile of black sand, where it disappeared. I felt an almost irrational desire to find that one crystal and keep it safe.

She smoothed the glittering pile across the black fabric. “Brendan is your soul mate. He’s head-over-heels in love with you.” Angelique’s voice became increasingly frantic as she continued talking, fanning the black crystals across the satin, where they blended in against the inky fabric.

“You know he’s not my favorite person in the world, and he annoys the hell out of me. But as much as I would love for us to be single together and you to postpone the whole soul mate thing until college, I have to admit, that guy would do anything for you,” she said bluntly, raising her eyes to meet mine. “He has done anything for you. More of his energy should have been reflected here. Especially since you were just with him. Hell, you’ve still got smudged lip crap on your chin from sucking face all afternoon! There should be more red crystals. There should be more of something. Anything!”

“What does it mean that there isn’t any?” I asked, my voice coming out very small.

“Whatever danger there is, it’s bigger than the two of you,” she said, looking at me with sad eyes. “It’s got more hate than you two have love.”