Charmfall

As we approached the bridge, we could see traffic was stopped. A crowd of onlookers stood at a stone railing overlooking the water. They stared expectantly over the edge.

“Did someone fall in?” I whispered.

“Oh, sweet luck!” Scout said, dragging me across the street as soon as the light changed.

“What are you doing?”

“There are certain good luck charms in Chicago,” she said. “And this is one of them.”

“Staring at the river?” I asked, seriously confused.

“Not the river,” she said, squeezing us into an empty spot at the railing. “The bridge.”

As it turned out, the crowd wasn’t checking out what was in the river—they were looking at what was out of it. The gigantic steel bridge was rising up, its two metal arms splitting in half and lifting toward the sky so taller boats could pass through it.

“Oh, that is just frickin’ sweet,” Scout said, pulling out her phone to snap some pictures.

The boats were ready to go: A dozen sailboats were in the stretch of river on the other side of the bridge, waiting to pass beneath it. A few kayaks were sprinkled in the water beside them. And this bridge wasn’t the only one moving. As I looked down the river, I could see two more in line behind it, now slowly moving back down again—two pieces of the road coming back together so traffic could pass.

The boaters sat on the decks of their boats, bundled up against the chilly fall wind. The boats were moving away from the lake, probably into harbors for the winter.

I heard the excited chatter of people around us and glanced over.

A few yards down the railing stood a slender girl with a ponytail of sleek, dark hair, and a big black camera around her neck. She threw her head back in a laugh, and I got a full view of her companion.

It was Sebastian Born. Tall, dark, handsome, and at least moderately evil.

I quickly looked back at the river again, suddenly nervous. “He’s here,” I said. “Three o’clock.”

“Three o’clock? I thought you said noon?”

“He’s standing at three o’clock. Beside the girl with the ponytail and camera.”

That got Scout’s attention. Very carefully, she glanced to the side, like she was just watching the next bridge begin to rise, before looking back at the river again. “That is definitely Sebastian Born.”

I blew out a breath to calm my nerves. “All right, I’m going over there.”

“I’ll stay right here. Out of Reaper range.”

“Thoughtful of you,” I said, and then my feet were moving and I was walking toward him. It took only a second before he looked up and met my gaze.

The deep, dark blue of his eyes was almost shocking. They offered up a punch, and I felt it in my gut as sure as any fist. But I made myself keep walking, and stopped when I reached the girl.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” I stuffed my hands into my pockets, suddenly self-conscious. It wasn’t exactly normal practice for Adepts and Reapers to meet in the middle of downtown Chicago on purpose and aboveground.

“Oh, uh, this is my cousin, Fayden. Fayden, Lily Parker.”

Fayden glanced over at me and smiled a little before turning her gaze back to the river. “Hiya,” she said.

“The bridge is pretty cool, huh?” he asked.

I glanced back just as a man and woman in bright orange kayaks and puffy coats paddled by. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”

“Fayden’s new to town,” Sebastian. “She’s a two-L at Northwestern. Law school,” he added, at my confused expression. “That means she’s in her second year. She transferred from California.”

“That’s a big change,” I said.

Fayden smiled. “Seventy degrees and sunny skies made me too perky. I figured a few winters in Chicago would help balance me out.”

“It’s Lily’s first winter, too, actually,” Sebastian said.

“Oh?” Fayden asked. “Where are you from?”

“New York state.”

“Huh,” she said. “Cool.”

Sebastian gestured toward a group of trees and a bench a few feet away from the river’s edge. I guessed that was where he wanted to talk.

“We’ll be right back, Fayden,” he said.

She nodded just a little.

“So you’re sightseeing?” I asked as we walked to the trees.

“Yeah, helping her get acquainted.”

The small talk done, I cut to the chase. “So what’s up?” I asked.

He looked super uncomfortable. “What do you know about magical power loss?”

My heart began beating wildly. Was he asking because he knew about us . . . or because Reapers were having problems, too? I decided to play dumb. “What do you mean?”

“Spells not working, powers gone.”

How to lie without lying? Avoid answering the question. “Why do you ask?”

Sebastian looked back at me for what felt like a long time. Maybe he was deciding how honest he could be, wondering if he could trust me. “Because our magic is gone.”

I was almost too stunned to speak. It wasn’t just Adepts? It was Reapers, too? “Our?”

“Reapers. Every Reaper in Chicago.”

“Since when?”

“Since this morning.”

We’d lost our magic last night. They lost their magic this morning, after we’d lost ours. That didn’t sound like a natural phenomenon. It sounded like someone had flipped a magical switch. But was that even possible? Who could flip a switch and turn off the magic of all Adepts and Reapers in Chicago? Who else was left?

“Jeremiah thinks Adepts did it,” Sebastian added. “Canceled out our power somehow.”

“We didn’t,” I assured him. “I’m not even sure we could.”

“I’m not sure he’ll buy that.”

So many questions raced in my head. What if he was telling the truth and Reapers didn’t have powers? He was taking a risk, so didn’t I owe him the truth, as well? But what if he was lying? What if Reapers were the reason we didn’t have power, and he wanted to confirm the trick had worked? What if he was trying to ferret out our weaknesses so Reapers could attack?

And, more important: Why was he helping me? Why was he giving me information that helped Adepts, when he didn’t even believe Adepts were on the right side of things? Was he trying to lure me in? Win me over?

But I held them in. I also held in the truth. I didn’t tell him we didn’t have powers, either. Maybe he knew; maybe he didn’t. But if he proved trustworthy, I promised myself I’d repay the favor later.

“Convince him,” I said. “I promise you we didn’t take your magic.”

“He wants proof. He wants Scout’s Grimoire. He thinks she did it.”

That wasn’t even negotiable. “He’s not going to get it. Not that it would help him anyway. And if he tries it, we’ll throw everything we have back at you.”

It was just that “everything” we had wasn’t much right now, at least not magically.

Fayden called his name, pointing at something on the river. I glanced back at her. “Is she one of you?”

His eyes darkened dangerously. “She is not,” he said. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d keep her out of it. There’s no need for the rest of the Dark Elite to know she’s even here.”

I guess he didn’t trust his fellow Reapers any more than we did. But that begged a question—if I’d said I had relatives visiting, would he do me the same favor? Would he keep my family out of it?

But I wasn’t a Reaper, and I wasn’t looking for a way to hurt Sebastian or his cousin, so I nodded. “No problem.”

He looked relieved.

“Well, I need to get back to school,” I said. “Thanks for the update.”

“You, too.”

He walked back to Fayden and I walked back to Scout like nothing at all had happened. Like we hadn’t just discussed gigantic magical developments. She started grilling me immediately.

“What did he do? What did he say? Who’s the girl?”

“His cousin. The good news is, Reapers have lost their power, too.”

Her eyes got really wide. “He told you that?”

“He did.”

“Do you think he was bluffing?”

“The only reason to bluff would be to find out if we have magic, too. And I’m not about to give that away. At least, not now. Not until we’re sure whose side he’s on.”

“So Reapers don’t have magic, huh?” She turned around and propped her elbows behind her on the railing. “So what does that mean? Who’s behind it?”

“I have no clue. Unfortunately, I do also have bad news.”

“You made out with him?”

“No, jeez, no. Have some respect. Seriously, though. The Reapers, or so they say, don’t know who’s done this, either. But they have a theory.”

“Which is?”

No sense beating around the bush. “They think it’s you.”

The smile that spread across her face wasn’t the fear I’d expected. “They think I’m good.”

“They think the answers are in your Grimoire.”

That made her pale a little bit, which I thought was good. I’d rather have her a little bit afraid than a little bit too cocky—and not as careful as she should be.

She pushed off the railing. “I’m not giving up my Grimoire,” she said. “If they think that’s going to happen, they are crazy or stupid. Or both.” She looked at me. “We have to figure out this blackout thing. We have to.”

“I know,” I said.

Unfortunately, I bet that was going to be the hard part.

* * *

When compared to a meeting with a Reaper beside a bridge that had vaulted itself out of the Chicago River, classes were dull. We’d also skipped lunch for the meet, which meant we were both starving. Hunger didn’t make European history any more exciting.

It was early in the week at St. Sophia’s School for Perpetually Rich Girls, which meant the options in the cafeteria weren’t quite as nasty as they’d get. Dinner on Thursday or Friday meant you’d be served up a stew of anything that didn’t get eaten earlier in the week. The cafeteria crew called it “slurry.” I called it disgusting.

Tonight they were serving burgers—the meaty kind for Scout and black bean for me. I was a vegetarian, so I made up for the lack of meat with veggies and sugar.

The brat pack seemed excited about something, but it wasn’t like I was going to go over and see what was up. They were at their usual table in the cafeteria beside a huge window that looked out over the yard. It was brat pack kingdom over there, and I wasn’t about to trespass.

Scout and I took seats at the end of a table on the other side of the room. We replayed my conversation with Sebastian, and she kept asking questions about what he did or didn’t say as she tried to fish clues from our conversation.

But one question stood out.

“Are you going to tell Jason you’re friends with Sebastian?”

I stopped in the middle of a bite of a burger. “We’re not friends.”

“Maybe not,” she said, squeezing so much mustard and ketchup onto the remaining half of her burger that it oozed out the sides. “But I still think he’d want to know.”

“Would you tell him if you were me? I mean, it’s completely innocent, but I don’t think Jason—or any of the rest of the Adepts—would think it’s a good idea.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“I’m not talking to Sebastian because I want us to be buds, because I want to date him, or because I think he and the rest of the Reapers are right about anything. He’s more like . . . a secret source. He gives me information, and if that information is useful, I’m going to use it. I’m not going to ignore him just because the Adepts aren’t comfortable with it.”

“And if Sebastian’s using you?”

“He could only use me if I was giving him information. Which I’m not.”

“Well, be careful he doesn’t try to turn your friendship—or whatever it is—into a way to get access to information . . . and the Enclave.”

“I’d never do that.”

“Yeah, but I also bet you never thought you’d be talking to Sebastian on the street or making nice with his cousin. Things change. People change. Just keep an eye out.”

“I will. And I’ll think about whether I should tell Jason.”

Scout’s phone beeped, so she pulled it out and glanced at the screen. “You better think pretty fast,” she said, then showed me her phone.

We were meeting at the Enclave tonight.

7

The situation was dire. We had a trig test, our magic was gone, and we had a party to prep and a secret meeting with a vampire to arrange. I had no parents for parents’ night, and no dress for the dance. I also had a worried werewolf and a spellbinding best friend who was now target number one for the city’s bad guys.

Pretty stressful stuff.

A lot of that stuff affected Michael and Jason, which I assumed was why we found them sitting at the table in the Enclave . . . preparing their fantasy basketball lineups.

“Is this seriously the best thing you guys have to do with your time?” Scout asked, tossing her messenger bag onto the table.

“No, no,” Michael said, stabbing a finger at the table and completely ignoring Scout. “You can’t put Topher at point guard. He was out half of last year because of his knee. That’s ridiculous.”