Spellcaster

The rumbling sounded like an earthquake, or at least what Nadia thought an earthquake might sound like. Then the ground began shaking beneath her feet.

Earthquakes in Rhode Island? Nadia grabbed at the trunk of the nearest tree, right at the outskirts of the grove, to steady herself.

But it wasn’t an earthquake.

The ground just—sank. In front of her, an entire trench opened up, dirt flying and trees tilting, all of it sloping into the new ditch. Nadia gaped as the lone car tilted onto one side and slid down into the trench.

Then, as soon as it had begun, it ended.

Breathing fast, Nadia didn’t let go of her hold on the tree; obviously she couldn’t even trust the ground here. What was that? What had just ripped a hole in the earth?

Her mind went first to supernatural explanations. Nadia thought again of that weird feeling she’d had, that something might be lurking underneath the chemistry lab … but she didn’t sense that same energy here. Nobody else seemed to be around, which meant no witches to cast spells. Nadia didn’t know of any magic that could work to rip the earth out from underneath; that didn’t mean no such magic existed, but it seemed doubtful. Besides, what could be the point of a spell like that? Would a spellcaster bother trashing people’s junker cars?

Nadia sighed, now more annoyed than alarmed. Had that been a sinkhole? An underground tunnel or room collapsing? Great, now she lived in BFE and it was collapsing in on itself.

Sucks to be the owner of that car, she thought. All that remained visible was the back bumper. When they get back, they’re gonna be ticked.

And then she thought—maybe they didn’t have to know.

Maybe it was because she’d found herself wishing for something more to be at work, something magical, so she’d have a test for her skills. Maybe it was because Ms. Walsh had made her promise not to limit herself. Maybe she just missed spellcasting.

And a lot of it probably had to do with the fact that this was what she’d wanted to do when her family was in the wreck—but couldn’t while Dad and Cole were there, not unless their lives were in true, inescapable danger.

Whatever it was, it made Nadia decide, I’m going to get that car out of the ditch.

Moving physical objects was surprisingly difficult; witchcraft had more to do with insight and influence than brute strength in the physical world. Nadia had never lifted anything as heavy as a car before, had never even tried. But she knew the spell.

People would surely come running soon to see what had happened. If she was going to do this, she had to try it now.

Nadia glanced around—no, nobody was around yet. The school grounds were deserted; no traffic zoomed along the streets. So she took hold of the sliver of ivory on her bracelet and put the ingredients together:

Terror so great it paralyzes.

Hope so desperate it aches.

Courage so strong it survives.

Nadia closed her eyes as she brought them fully into her mind—tried to wrap her consciousness around the memory and somehow around the car, too. Weirdly, it seemed to her that she could feel it, the bulk and metal of it balancing against her mind—

Lying in the wreck of the car that night, hearing Cole shriek and not knowing for a moment whether her baby brother was hurt, or how badly.

That first night after Mom left, when the phone rang, and she and Dad looked at each other in wild hope before she dove for it—but it wasn’t Mom, only some survey that wanted to know if they were buying a new television this year.

Getting up the morning after that, not crying once, and making breakfast for Dad and Cole like Mom used to, and how they all ate together like it was normal, like it was fine, because they were going to be fine without her somehow.

Nadia heard a solid thunk and the creaking of old shock absorbers. Tentatively she opened her eyes to see—the car, still rocking back and forth in its new place next to the ditch. She grinned in triumph.

And then her face fell … as someone sat up in the driver’s seat.

Verlaine.

Who was now staring at Nadia in a way that made it absolutely clear that, even though she might not have known what just happened, she knew exactly who was responsible.

She’d been caught doing witchcraft.

4

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.”