“For August.”
Gran snorts. Ah, there’s the sea that’s going to swallow me up. “Then I’m not sure how you think you’re going to get past this point, dear. For the first few days, you’ll be safe, but then it’s magic, and you have limitations. You gave it a nice run, Penelope, but now you have to find a new path.”
Connie clears her throat. “She can still pass. I’ll find a way to be there for the magic test, and she can still pull it from me. We’ll get a new plan. I’ll hide in the closet or something. No one will know I’m even there.”
Gran crosses her arms. “And if she passes? Or gets made an Enforcer? Will you just follow her around forever, Constance?”
Connie and I share a look. Gran doesn’t know about my quest to retrieve my magic. She’d think I was mental, or tell me it as too dangerous. I try to think of a new plan for Connie to be there. The order of the tests runs through my head: history, fighting, weapons, magic. I don’t need her until the fourth day. And then it’s the Pairing, and two weeks together before the Partner final. She can be there for a reason; no one will have to know the real one. Yeah. This is good, we can do this.
“It’s going to be fine, Gran,” I say.
She raises an eyebrow at me. “Penelope, this is dangerous.”
I’ll just have to move up the search about my magic, and maybe the information about my demon will be easy to access. I have six more days until the magic testing portion. Miracles happen. If a geeky boy can be bitten by a spider and learn to scale walls, I can do this. I’ve made it this far. I can fight; I’m smart. This is what I’ve been working toward forever. Connie and I can practice. I can pass the magic test and the whole exam.
I can do it. Gran’s doubt will not sway me. Not now.
“What happened to all your speeches about it being ‘an honor to serve the Triad and the Nons’?” I ask, interrupting whatever rant she’s on. She sends me the death glare because Gran hates being interrupted, but it’s too late now, so I keep talking. I’m already going to regret it later, so give me some bacon on those cheese fries. “You didn’t protest when they wanted to Bond me. Why’s this any different?”
The way Gran looks at me—like I’m completely insane—is alarming. She should know how much this means to me. I didn’t mean to throw the Bonding in her face, but I didn’t want to be married. Even if the Triad “selected” me for the privilege. Being chosen at sixteen to be married at eighteen is stupid. I’d said no. I didn’t want to be chosen for something like that, something I didn’t want, and she never even suggested it for Connie. I want this. I always have, even if she hasn’t. I fought tooth and nail to get
out
of the Bonding; I will most definitely fight tooth and nail for the thing I want. I won’t let not having magic stop me.
Gran huffs. “It
is
a great honor. I’m saying you need to be realistic.”
“
Realistic?
” My voice sounds a little too high to be normal. I open my mouth, close it, then turn on my heels and march up the steps. Gran is right behind me. Tears burn at my eyes, but I will not let them come out.
Gran puts a hand on my shoulder. I jerk away.
I can almost hear Pop’s voice, telling her to calm down. It’s not working. Her lips are a straight line; her ears are so red they might as well be smoking. To my surprise though, she pulls me into a hug. Her arms are too tight around me for that. It’s not a comforting hug; it’s a threatening one. That’s part of Gran’s charm.
“I support your dreams, Penelope, if they are good ones,” she says into my ear. “This could ruin you. Ruin our family. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Her breath warms my neck; she doesn’t let go of me until she’s sure her words have sunk in. I know that she and Pop have worked hard to keep my lack of magic a secret. This could be my undoing, yet even so, it could also be my salvation. The one option that could keep me from being labeled as Static, from ending up forgotten. This could make me normal in our world. If I succeed, if I find the demon, if I get my powers back—then all of the risks will have been more than worth it.
But I need to pass this test to get there.
Gran sighs in my ear. “If you continue down this path, you’re giving up your life. The Triad will discover you, Penelope, and when they do they will send you away with the other Statics.”
I shake my head. That can’t happen. I’m doing this
for
my family, because getting my magic ensures their safety as much as mine. If I were labeled Static, they’d be punished for not revealing me. Static witches, once they are of age, are completely removed from the witch community, and that usually includes their family. It’s just too hard to keep magic separate when it drives everything we do. That won’t happen to me. Or to us.
“I’m more than my magic,” I say. Gran winces and releases me. The worry is still there. “I don’t need magic to be a kick-ass Enforcer.” She hates being reminded of my “shortcomings.” It’s why I do it, every fight.
The door slams so loudly that Gran and I both look over. There in the foyer is Pop, his gray hair messed up and his work overalls covered in grease, Connie right behind him.
“What’s going on in here?” he asks us. Gran softens a little at his presence for a moment. Enough for me to let my guard down.
“Penelope was selected for next month’s Enforcer exam. Isn’t that great, Pop?” Connie says, her voice bright and cheery.
Gran steps away from me. “‘Great’ is not the word I used. We should never have indulged her in this path. We should’ve made her agree to the Bonding last year like the other girls,” Gran says.
I look away. I really wish I was the Flash right now. I could be out of here in half a second. A warm, rough hand touches my cheek, and I smell Pop’s pipe tobacco long before I open my eyes. When I do, the warmth of his presence, as always, floods me. The softness of his blue gaze and the soft round smile that always seems to be there.
“Penelope,” he says. It’s only my name, but it almost breaks me down. The way he says it, like it has weight and meaning, like it’s something. No one else does that. Not like Pop does. “Your grandmother is right. This could be very dangerous for you.”
Under the worry of his voice, his soft eyes, I see something more. Something like pride. That’s all I need to see to convince me again. “It could also save me. If I’m an Enforcer then no one would question anything. I could be part of our world. There’d be no more lying and no more worrying.”
Pop smiles a little. It’s a sad, tired one. “There’d be a whole different sort of worrying, Penelope.”
“Mom wouldn’t fight me on this,” I say. This is one of those moments that I’m good at generating because I can drive a point home. Gran stands up straighter. “I want to be an Enforcer—you know I want that—and she would do everything in her power to make that happen for me.”
“She’s not here. Being Enforcers is what got them both killed—and nearly you,” she says. “Think of your future.”
I stare at them, at all three of them. I can’t believe it—even Connie isn’t doing anything to help. I
am
thinking about my future. The last five years, the training, the bruises, the studying—it’s all been about this. I love my family, but they are wrong. So wrong. Even with this hitch, I can get my magic back. I want it more.
This could be the key to getting everything I lost when my parents died.
Everything.
Including myself.
I can’t give it up, not now, not when I’m so close. None of them can understand that, because they don’t have
limitations.
“I need some air.” I push my way past my grandparents and Connie when she reaches out for me. I grab the muddy, stinky tennis shoes and some salt that Gran keeps stocked by the front door on my way out. I cram my feet into the shoes, no socks and all, and I run.
Chapter Three
My shirt is sweat-glued to me by the time I arrive at the park, and the sky is darker. My legs are jelly, wobbling and useless. Sort of like my essence.
Zing.
I stop to catch my breath. The sky is dark gray and I still have to run all the way back home. Home, known today as the place dreams go to die.
Think of your future.
There’s a sound, a crackling that echoes toward me like a bottle breaking. I look around the park, but there aren’t many people around. A guy with a dog, a couple making out in between some trees, a woman and her son on the swings. Maybe I’m hearing things. It’s been a long day. Too long. I can’t believe I had magic—and that it’s already gone.
The streetlight above me flashes on. It’s quick. Most people wouldn’t notice it, since it’s still daytime. I twist around in my spot, but there’s nothing there. All the Nons look safe, making out on benches and climbing monkey bars. The breeze that was blowing has stopped.
A demon is here. When one is around, it can affect the natural order of the universe. Lights come on that were off before, or turn off that were on. Breezes can stop. Snowstorms can stop. Even if it’s a momentary flicker, we know it means something else; we’re trained to know.
I sniff the air and the sulfur fills my nose. It’s definitely here. There should be another indicator of where it is—and this time I have salt, so no besting me. Maybe I’ll be two for two today. That would be a record up from zero. I put my hand in my pocket, triple-checking that the little purple bag of salt is still there.
I turn around the corner and push my way through some trees. As soon as I break the trees I’m in a clearing and see a putrid yellow demon crouched over a male Non. The demon looks up, bright-lime eyes on me, blood dripping from its mouth.
The demon licks its lips. My eyes dart to the Non. He’s sprawled out on the ground, not moving. Is he dead? There’s a laugh from the demon before it lunges the few feet toward me. It’s midair, and I’m pulling out the salt, when it screams and falls back to the ground. Over my shoulder, I see Enforcers circling me from all directions, salt guns blazing. Four Enforcers, two pairs to this one demon. Someone shoots again, and the demon howls as a blond Enforcer pushes me toward the trees.
“Get out of the way,” he tells me. His voice is surprisingly deep. “You shouldn’t play with demons.”
The blond and his partner take care of the demon. He throws more salt on it, while she starts the incantation. The other pair of Enforcers checks the Non’s pulse and whisper quietly. At least, I think it’s quiet. I can’t hear over the incantation and the demon howling.
“Is that Non dead?” I ask quickly.
None of the Enforcers answer me. The demon howls one last time before exploding into pieces. It was awesome, but I don’t want to dwell.
“Is he dead?” I ask again, louder. All four people focus in on me. It’s a little unnerving, especially with the badge taunting me from their shirts. Every Enforcer wears the sign of the Triad—and I want one.
One of the women moves toward me, her brown hair a mess of curls. Her companions wave their hands around, cleaning up the demon remains. She stops a foot away from me.
“You should go. This really isn’t a place for a kid,” she says.
I cross my arms. “I’m not a kid. I’m in testing.” Not technically. Not yet. Two more days.
“Even more reason to go. If you pass, you’ll be tired of seeing this,” she says. Her eyes are soft for a moment, and then she shakes her head. “Go. That’s an order.”
She turns on her heel back to the Non. I start to protest when I see someone on the other side of the woods. At first, it’s a bit of brown, and then bright-blue shoes that I remember from earlier. Carter is here. He sees me, too, and points toward the parking lot before disappearing through the trees.
Carter’s waiting in the parking lot, his arms crossed over his chest, when I get there. “Fancy meeting you here.” Fancy, indeed. Twice in one day. Weird coincidence. “I didn’t know if I’d see you again, Pen.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap. I hate that name. My parents used to call me that—no one else. Not Ric. Not even Connie. Especially not him. He doesn’t even know me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. I try to play it all cool, even though things are spinning too much to be normal. I feel sick, like I ate too much chocolate, and I’m not sure why. I huff and cross my arms, trying to calm my stomach. “Are you stalking me now? Factoid: you’re not supposed to be seen.”
Carter steps toward me, and I catch a scent off him. Whatever it is smells a little like nutmeg. A nutmeg boy.
Geesh, stop smelling the strange boy, Penelope.
“Maybe I wanted to be seen.”
“Well, then you’re not a very good stalker,” I say. I’m seriously going to vomit. What is wrong with me? It feels like my stomach is trying to claw out of my chest.
“I’m not a stalker. I told you, I’m a tracker. There’s a difference.”
“Not much,” I say. “You were tracking it here, the demon. Why?”
“I can’t tell you that. It’s confidential,” he says.
Confidential, right. I roll my eyes. “Great. Good thing I don’t really care.” I totally care. I take a step away from and stumble; my hands are still shaking, my legs. I really feel strange—maybe I ran too hard. He reaches out to steady me.
“I’ve been told I make girls weak in the knees,” he says with a smile.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I yank my hand away from him and wipe imaginary dust off my shirt. I flatten my hair back with my shaky hands, which only makes it worse since it’s a sweaty mess, and I have to will myself not to fall over. I feel like a teeter-totter. I never liked those things.
“Are you okay?” Carter asks me. “Do you need to sit down? You look pale.”
His sudden sympathy makes me nervous.
“No, I need to go. I have a thing,” I say.
I move on without him, but he follows me. “Let me walk you home. You seriously don’t look good.”
“Just what every girl wants to hear,” I say.
“No, I didn’t mean—” he starts. There’s a sigh, like he’s not sure what he’s going to say, and then that smile again. I bet that thing is perma-glued. “After this afternoon, I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”
“About that,” I say. I turn back around to him. “You can’t tell anyone I did that. I’m a minor; it’s against the rules.”
He tucks his hands into the pockets of his brown leather jacket and raises an eyebrow. “Not if it’s in self-defense.”
Great, a rule-breaker who knows all the rules. “I just don’t want anyone to know about it, okay? Not right now.”
“Why don’t you want anyone to know that you expelled a demon?”
“It’s not that,” I say quickly.
Carter nods slowly. “It’s the fact that you had
trouble
expelling the demon. I can see how that would be a problem.”
I cross my arms. “You could have a problem too if anyone found out you were tracking demons.” Demon hunting. The Enforcers won’t like that he’s breaking protocol—and I have no doubt that their disapproval will look like a party compared to what happens when they report an unauthorized demon hunter to the Triad. That is one thing that no one messes with.
Silence spreads between us. We both know we’re at a stalemate. This time Carter’s not smiling when he looks at me. His gaze explores my face, and who am I to stop mine from doing the same? The high cheekbones, the green eyes, the stubble that grows faintly along his jawline. I don’t really take notice of boys, and they don’t take notice of me, but there’s something about this one that’s different—aside from the crazy that obviously plagues him.
“I think it’s a little early in our relationship to start making threats.”
“It’s not a threat.” I ignore “relationship,” although it’s not that, either. “It’s a common interest.”
I need everyone to think I have magic, no questions asked. I can’t be cut out; this world is my life.
Carter’s quiet. The smile appears and then fades, leaving us both to stare at each other. “Okay, Pen.”
“I’m not ‘Pen’—”
“I won’t tell anyone your dirty little secret, if you don’t tell mine.”
“Fine,” I say, breaking the stare, because it’s weird, staring at a boy I barely know on the sidewalk. It’s not like some movie where girl meets boy and they go through all the trials and live happily ever after. I don’t want that anyway. Not with this boy or any boy. My happily ever after consists of finding the damn demon that killed my parents and recovering my own magic.
Carter’s phone beeps in his pocket—high note, low note, high note—which means there’s something on the Witches’ News Network. Probably something unimportant; at least I hope that’s the case. I should’ve brought my phone.
“Another attack,” he whispers.
“Where?” He looks up at me, like he’s surprised that I care. I wave my hand at him, urging him to speak. What does this boy need, a flashing sign?
“In DC on M Street,” he says. He slides his phone in his pocket. There have been a lot more attacks lately. DC is well patrolled, so how are demons slipping by us? I’d never make it to M Street in time, not from where I am.
He studies my face. “So little Penny has a thing for demons, too.”
“I don’t have a thing for demons.”
“You seem to,” Carter says, considering me. The way he looks at me tells me my face said a lot more than my mouth.
“I just asked a question,” I scoff.
“Right, and you’re not thinking about how long it would take you to get there right now?”
I open my mouth to reply, then change my mind and shrug instead. He doesn’t get to know what I was thinking, or anything else about me. Gran told us never to share secrets with strangers. I don’t plan on starting now.
A horn honks in our direction. We both turn, and I see my sister’s blond hair bobbing in the car. Gran probably sent her, more of that non-optional suggesting. I need to change my running route. The trails are getting too predictable for them.
“I should go,” I say. Connie calls my name from the car, and parks in a spot. I nod at Carter, all awkward-like, and take a couple steps toward my sister. “See you around.”
“See me tomorrow,” he says.
I stop walking. “What?”
He moves to fill some of the space between us. Not too close, but close enough that it makes me want to run in the other direction. “I keep seeing you, and I don’t think coincidences are real.”
I pause, my mouth dry. I thought the same thing about him not twelve seconds ago. “I don’t hang out with strangers,” I say, stepping away. He follows me. What is it with this boy? He does not take a hint.
Go away.
“We’re not strangers. I’ve met you twice. Now, we’re more like people getting to know each other over coffee. If you drink coffee. There’s a place in Del Ray—St. Elmo’s?—that’s the best.”
That place is my favorite in the whole city. I go there so much they know my order.
“Penelope, I knew you’d be here,” Connie says, walking up to us. Her voice trails off when she sees Carter. I don’t know how much longer we stand that way before he breaks our gaze.
“Who’s this?” Connie asks in our silence. She’s got that singsong tone to her voice like when she was up to something as a kid.
“Carter,” he says. He reaches out for my sister’s hand and kisses it awkwardly. She cocks an eyebrow while I just roll my eyes.
“And you are?” he asks.
“Connie,” she says.
“My little sister,” I add.
Carter nods toward her. She eyes me suspiciously as he lets go of her hand and clears his throat. “Tomorrow afternoon then?” he asks me.
Connie narrows her eyes in my direction. I see the question brewing in her mind. I don’t want another incident like the time I told her how Mike O’Connor kept borrowing my pencil when he had a whole bag full, and then she convinced him to ask me out because he obviously liked me. He didn’t; he liked my mechanical pencils.
I nod quickly.
Please go away now.
He flashes another bright smile from the corner of this mouth and he’s gone at least three minutes before Connie speaks.
“How do you know him?”
“I don’t,” I say. “He’s a stranger.”
“A hot one.”
“He could be crazy. I think he’s a stalker.”
“Again, a hot one.” She pauses. I shrug. “And you
like
him,” she says in my ear.
I shake my head and swat her away. It must be a rule that little sisters have to be irritating. “No. I don’t even know him, Con.”
She does this little huff like she doesn’t believe me. I stick my tongue out at her because I’m mature like that.
Gran calls my name as soon as we walk through the door. Connie squeezes my hand and runs off so I can face the firing squad alone. Traitor. In the kitchen, Gran is bent over the oven. It smells like spaghetti pizza, which she only makes on special occasions. The smell of the melting cheese and pepperoni makes my stomach growl.
“Did you need something? I wanted to shower. That smells good,” I say. Deflection!
Gran closes the oven door and faces me. “Did you have a good run?” She doesn’t buy the trick. She’s a retired high school teacher; not much gets past her.
Sure, until the Enforcers and a stalker-boy showed up. I nod in quiet reply.
“I’m thinking I’ll make something special for dessert. I made this chocolate angel pie when your mom was your age. How about that?”
This is Gran’s way of apologizing. She’s not the “let’s hug it out” type. She’s not even the “I’ll admit I was wrong” type. A special dessert plus a fancy dinner? She’s that type.
“Sounds delicious,” I say. She starts rummaging through one of her cookbooks. I grab my phone off the table where I left it and see all of Ric’s frantic texts about leaving in the middle of a conversation and asking where I’d been. His last says he called Con.
Want to come to dinner?
I text.
Don’t lie to me, darlin’. I will cut you.
I’d like to see you try.
He sends me back an emoji of a knife, and I laugh.
“Can Ric come over? His mom is working late.” Gran’s turning pages in her book, and since this is my apology dinner, I already know she’ll say yes. I send the text before she even answers.