Sorceress

  “Mateo!” Nadia cried. They tried to hold her back from them, but Mateo held out his hand to her, and she was able to grab it. As the paramedics worked on him, she knelt by his side, refusing to let go. “I’m so sorry—I’m sorry—” she kept repeating, the words coming out of her in a rush.

  “I know,” Mateo said. She knew he meant to sound understanding, but all she heard was that he understood exactly what she’d done. His stare was hard, and Nadia found herself pulling back from him.

  Even the guy she loved could tell the evil was getting to her—slipping into the cracks, wearing her down, just like the endless rain.

  Elizabeth splayed her hands in front of the stove’s glow, feeling the warmth penetrate through her flesh, down to the bone. To her it seemed as though the strong currents flowed around her hands and through her fingers. When Elizabeth closed her eyes, she could even imagine herself in a great river at its mouth, where freshwater met salt. The waters would rush over and around her, and her feet would sink into the silt at the bottom; the current would be strong enough to move even the mud, to make the earth itself begin to move.

  All this I have done for you, she thought, thinking of the One Beneath. We are so very close now, my only love, my only master.

  He did not reply in words. His orders and emotions came to her in different forms: powerful sensations that washed over her, and the knowledge of His thoughts, more vivid to Elizabeth than mere speech could ever be. The One Beneath rejoiced in her strength, strained impatiently at the last bonds that kept Him outside the mortal world, and—wanted more.

  Not the world Elizabeth had laid before Him. Already the One Beneath knew of her gifts and gloried in them. His desire was for His other servant to join in Elizabeth’s work fully and joyfully.

  Still, even now—He wanted Nadia.

  I gave her to you, Elizabeth thought, forcing herself to remain calm. She is your servant, sworn to you.

  But Nadia’s heart was not entirely in her work. Not yet. Already Elizabeth had cast Betrayer’s Snare—a spell meant to deflect some kinds of witchcraft, to turn their powers back on the witch who had cast them. Were Nadia to try to directly go against Elizabeth, casting spells to harm or kill her, those spells would work on her instead. If the girl thought she could turn against Elizabeth without paying a price, she would be very deeply sorry.

  Soon, though, Nadia would be loyal.

  Elizabeth filled her mind with the image of Nadia’s face as she had looked just before she dashed out of the house. Yes, there was hatred there, and despair . . . but also self-knowledge. Darkness had crept into Nadia’s magic, and thus into Nadia’s soul. She could not resist it much longer; she wouldn’t even want to. As for the bonds of love that kept Nadia tied to the mortal world, well, those were already strained. Soon they would snap.

  “Not long now,” Elizabeth whispered.

  6

  MATEO HAD THOUGHT ESCAPING FROM THE FLOODWATER had been tough. Dealing with the resulting parental overreactions? Possibly tougher.

  “You went in to help. I understand that.” Dad didn’t look understanding. He looked like he was trying really hard not to get mad, because he knew he should be proud. His eyes were shadowed, though, and in them Mateo could glimpse how badly scared his father had been. “But you have a medical condition, mi hijo. You can’t take certain risks right now.”

  “I know I do.” The paramedics had walked Mateo over to La Catrina, where he now sat in one of the booths; Dad had draped his own fleece jacket around Mateo’s shoulders, and put a bowl of garlic broth in front of him to heat him up.

  The chill wouldn’t have gotten to Mateo half as much if Nadia had been here. But she’d drawn away, apologizing, as the medics had surrounded him.

  “You look worse.” Dad put his hand to Mateo’s forehead like he was a seven-year-old kid again, trying to play sick to get out of school. “You never should have gone down there. How did you even know Verlaine was in trouble?”

  Mateo figured he’d better skim past that question. “I’m sorry, Dad. Believe me, if I’d realized just how bad it was going to get, I’d have called for the cops or the fire department right away. Since they have the best deputies.” He smiled at Gage.

  Gage grinned. “Death-defying rescues, at your service.”

  Thank God Gage had come back to La Catrina with him. Dad only stopped being upset with Mateo long enough to admire his friend. “Since when do you volunteer with the fire department, Gage?”

  “Well, you remember the haunted house fire at the Halloween carnival, right?”

  “Right,” Mateo said; that would have been his last day on earth, but for Nadia.

  Gage continued, “After that, I thought I ought to get some emergency training. So I could be useful when something like that happened, instead of just taking pictures and putting them on Instagram, you know? I signed up for the next Red Cross class, which was Disaster Assistance. The fire department texted everybody from the class this afternoon and told us to come in, which is how I got this awesome outfit.” He gestured to his fluorescent yellow plastic vest.

  “Looks sharp.” Mateo managed to smile at his friend, grateful to be with Gage—the real Gage—and to erase the memory of him lost in Elizabeth’s thrall.

  This is the person he really is, the person he’s meant to be. How do we fix it so Elizabeth can’t screw with his head anymore? As Mateo thought about it, he remembered their one terrible battle—and the way some strange force had traveled through Mateo, into Gage, for one instant setting him free.

  “You must be cold, too,” Dad said, patting Gage’s shoulder. “You want some broth? Hold on. I’ll get you a mug.”

  “Sounds good,” Gage called after him. “A beer would sound better!”

  “Don’t push it!” Dad’s voice vanished into the depths of the kitchen.

  Mateo shook his head. “I can’t believe you asked my dad for a beer.”

  “I just helped save his son’s life. You’d think that would be worth a brewski.”

  “But not worth our liquor license.”

  In his rush to get to the Guardian, Mateo had forgotten his cell phone. Good thing, too, or else he wouldn’t have one anymore. He looked down at his messages, knowing he should contact Nadia. What was he supposed to say, though? I know you didn’t mean to nearly kill us?

  Then he thought of Nadia’s stricken face and realized it didn’t matter what he said. She needed to know that he still loved her no matter what.

  Quickly he tapped out, Are you okay? I’m thinking about you. If you want to call or talk or anything—let me know. Love you.

  Nadia had managed to get upstairs without her dad seeing how soaked she was. She knew she ought to go downstairs and talk with him and Cole, but instead she sat on her desk chair, swaddled in her thick robe, hardly able to think, much less move.

  How could I let Elizabeth taunt me into doing something that terrible? How?

  And the way Mateo had looked at her outside the Guardian—if he hated her now, she couldn’t take it.

  Don’t be stupid, she told herself. Of course Mateo still loves you.

  If she talked with Mateo, maybe she’d feel better. First she’d test the waters with a text. Grabbing her phone, she typed, I’m sorry I ran off like that. Everything is scary, and I feel so mixed up. Can we talk tonight? I need to talk to you.

  Nadia pushed Send, feeling as though she’d just been tossed a life preserver. Now someone would tow her back to shore.

  Elizabeth sensed the opportunity, and struck.

  As Mateo tapped out his message to Nadia, Elizabeth watched him through Gage Calloway’s eyes. His father called to him, asking him to change into dry clothes. His message, not yet complete, remained unsent. The moment he was gone, she used Gage’s hand to pick up the phone.

  Through him, she sent magic that would destroy any messages sent or received that night, plucking them out of the electronic ether if needed, to ensure they never found their recipients. Back in the day, the s
pell used to make letters burn within their envelopes. Now? Elizabeth had no idea how cell phones worked and did not care to learn.

  She knew how magic worked, and that was enough, because magic itself would know how to make sure Mateo and Nadia would not reach each other tonight.

  When Mateo came back to the table, Gage was munching on chips and salsa. “Helped myself,” Gage said. “Since I’m kinda familiar with the layout.”

  “You should work here,” Mateo said. He finished his message, hit Send, and waited for Nadia to reply. Surely she’d get back to him right away.

  But she didn’t.

  Nadia stared at her phone’s screen for the better part of an hour before she accepted that Mateo wasn’t going to reply.

  Maybe he fell asleep. He had to be exhausted.

  Try as she might, Nadia couldn’t convince herself of that. Mateo just—didn’t want to talk to her. Wasn’t ready.

  Maybe she could believe that much. That he just wasn’t ready.

  That night, Mateo was so exhausted and miserable he didn’t even bother taking his usual Tylenol PM. His worry about Nadia had escalated to fear, but there was nothing he could do—not if she wouldn’t even talk to him. The hopelessness dragged him down even further, until all he could think about was going to sleep. He showered to get the weird musty smell of floodwater off him, then passed out almost the moment he collapsed into bed.

  But he wasn’t too tired to dream.

  Mateo’s hands rested on the thorny halo around his head. Usually the dark, twisting thorns were something he could see only in the mirror because of his Steadfast powers, but now they were real and tangible. One of the thorns pricked his skin, and when he pulled that hand away, a single bead of red blood welled in the center of his palm.

  “Don’t take it off,” Nadia pleaded. She stood next to him in what looked like a room in an abandoned house—cobwebs in every corner, windows gray and opaque with dust, and bits of old paper strewn on the scuffed floor. “You can’t take it off.”

  “I have to.” Mateo could feel the thorns pressing through his scalp, as though the halo was digging itself into his flesh. But the pain wasn’t the reason he needed to rid himself of it. He couldn’t remember the reason right now, but he knew it was the most important thing to him in the world.

  Nadia shook her head. Tears welled in her dark eyes. “Then wait. If you wait just a little while longer—”

  “Wait for what?” He tried to turn to her, but she never seemed to be in the same place from moment to moment. Although Nadia never took a single step, she was near him, far, in the corner, at the door, right in front of his face—in the strange, changeable way of dreams. Why would she ever tell him to wear the thorns? “Nadia, why do I need to wait?”

  “You need to wait because of these.”

  She held out her wrists, and he saw, to his horror, that she wore shackles. The metal was newly forged, glowing with heat, and the cuffs were burning into her skin. Through her flesh, down to bone.

  “Nadia—”

  Mateo woke up, looked around, and thought, Shit. Where am I this time?

  He lay on someone’s back porch—out of the rain, although he’d obviously gotten soaked on the way there. At this rate he was going to forget how it felt to be dry. Shivering, Mateo pushed himself upright and glanced around.

  From the looks of things he had wandered more than half a mile inland from the beach, to the porch of someone’s yellow house. Yellow with dark green shutters: Wasn’t this the Bender place?

  Great. I walked straight to the house of the loudest mouth in Captive’s Sound. If Kendall sees me, she’ll tell everyone.

  Not that almost everyone hadn’t already written Mateo off as hopelessly insane—but mostly he just wanted to get home before Dad woke up. Apparently it was just past dawn, although the sky was so cloudy and dark Mateo could hardly tell. When was the last time he’d seen the sun? Seemed like days.

  He was so cold. His feet and hands were numb. Mateo pressed on his toes—no frostbite, thank goodness—but the walk back in the rain was going to suck.

  As he stood up, he saw the Benders’ garden shed. Maybe Mr. Bender had a Windbreaker or gardening gloves out there. Galoshes. Something that might help. Mateo could sneak by later and put back anything he borrowed, probably before anybody knew it was gone . . .

  “Mateo?”

  He turned around to see Kendall Bender standing at the back door, staring at him through the glass. She wore an oversize pajama top and held a cup full of something steaming and warm, probably coffee. At any rate, she was definitely awake enough to remember this later on. It took all his strength not to swear out loud. “Uh, yeah. Hi. Sorry. I was, um, sleepwalking again. You know.”

  Kendall just stared.

  Mateo hated it when people thought he was crazy. He hated it most when it felt like they might be right. Standing there on the Benders’ porch, with Kendall staring at him, he felt weirder and lower and closer to the brink than ever before. Probably she would call the police at any second.

  “Do you want some coffee?” Kendall asked. When he didn’t answer right away, she lifted her cup. “It’s, like, this special blend or something from South America, or maybe Central America, but it just tastes like regular coffee.”

  “. . . Sure.”

  He stood there shivering until Kendall returned, pushing the door open and bearing a souvenir mug from Epcot. “Here you go. Do you want a jacket? My dad is way bigger than you, but it’s not like anybody will see you. Besides me. And I’m seeing someone, so it’s not like you have to show off for me.”

  “Kendall—why are you being so nice to me?”

  She sighed. “Listen, like, I was talking to my mom who was talking to my dad who was talking to all these people in town, about all the freaky stuff that’s been happening, with the sickness and the fire and the flooding and all of that? And at first you think it’s bad luck, but then you start to go, like, there is a pattern here. This isn’t right. People are starting to catch on.”

  Mateo couldn’t quite follow. “Catch on to what, exactly?”

  Kendall put down her coffee mug and folded her arms. “Supernatural stuff. The occult. Oh, my God, catch up.”

  He had no idea what to say.

  “So I was thinking, you know, everyone says your family is cursed, which I think everybody meant more like a metaphor but is starting to make sense,” Kendall said. “Mateo, do you think you act all freaky like this because, like, a witch put some kind of spell on you?”

  Did she say . . . “A witch?”

  “Or some kind of voodoo or something, although I don’t know who around here would do voodoo. Maybe that weird Vera Laughton girl, I don’t know. People were just saying, that’s all. It makes sense. Do you maybe think that’s what happened to you?”

  If she’d said nothing, or accused him of madness, Mateo would have lied his way out of it. But hearing the truth—hearing something like understanding, from Kendall of all people—it seemed to break him open. The words poured out. “That’s what happened. To my whole family.”

  Kendall’s eyes widened. “Ohmigod.”

  “A witch cursed us more than two centuries ago.” Even now, Mateo knew better than to accuse Elizabeth. “That’s why we go crazy, you see? We really do have dreams about the future. But you can’t understand them until—sometimes until it’s too late. I never know exactly what the dreams mean until too late, and I wake up all over town, and it makes people think—”

  All the pent-up hurt from a lifetime of ostracism welled up. It was too much to take all at once. Maybe if he hadn’t been cold, and freaked out, and scared to death for Nadia—

  “Hey,” Kendall said. Her voice was softer than he’d ever heard it before. “Your coffee’s getting cold.”

  Coffee. Right. Coffee is good. He took a couple of sips, and the hot coffee in his belly seemed to steady him. Within a few moments, Mateo felt almost like himself again.

  Kendall finally said, “You could
’ve told us, you know. Like, you could’ve just explained.”

  “Would you have believed me?”

  “Not back in sophomore year. But after the past couple months, yeah.” She acted like discovering the world of the supernatural was just one more bit of gossip she’d learned. “So, are you crazy right now? Because if you’re not, I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “Not crazy at the moment. And—thanks for the coffee.”

  She padded back into the kitchen, apparently to get her shoes. Then she stopped. “Just FYI? If you’re cursed, we still have to treat you like you’re dangerous.”

  Mateo hated to admit it, but—“That makes sense.”

  “But we’ll understand.”

  “That helps.”

  Nadia awoke still wearing her bathrobe. She’d curled into a ball on top of her bedspread, too miserable and freaked-out to even get ready for bed. Groggily she turned over to grab her phone from its charging dock. Still nothing from Mateo . . . until the phone buzzed in her hand.

  Mateo’s message didn’t accuse her, didn’t comfort her. He just said, Dreamed again. Went wandering again. Woke up on Kendall’s porch.

  Another volley of gossip from Kendall was the last thing they needed. But then she read Mateo’s next text.

  Kendall realized I’d been cursed, for real. Apparently everyone in town is talking about witchcraft. Are they just being superstitious or do they actually know something??

  Eyes wide, Nadia pushed herself upright as she continued to stare down at the screen. It wasn’t like she’d had no warning this could happen. There had been weird scenes in town for months now, setting everyone on edge—and Verlaine had told her how a few people had begun talking about the supernatural during the terrible “epidemic” in November. Nadia had hoped that was nothing but panic, people losing it because they were scared for a moment.

  Now, as the rain kept coming, people were even more afraid. And in their paranoia, the mob had hit on the truth.

  They know. The Craft has been exposed.

  Nadia shuddered—then told herself that couldn’t be right. Okay, people in Captive’s Sound suspected witchcraft. This didn’t mean they had any idea how witchcraft actually worked, who the witches around them actually were. Nobody in this town had any facts. Only suspicions, hysteria, and conjecture.