Chapter 25

Chapter

Twenty-Five

I can do this. I can win and restore all the power to the children of the first families.

My life depends on it. Insecurity won’t do right now.

This is my mantra. I’ve been repeating it over and over in my mind, and saying it aloud on occasion.

There is about to be a battle that ends someone’s life, and the air is thick with the knowledge of it. Or maybe it’s my imagination which has been running wild since this morning when I awoke and my father told me today would be the day. Elizabeth would crave more magic soon, so it is time. Word has been spread that the Institute will have a congregational meeting of witches. It means nothing. Every day that we have classes we have congregational meetings of witches. The ridiculousness of it isn’t lost on me.

But my father swears it will work. There has been a power shroud placed over the gymnasium and nothing attracts a rogue syphoner like a power shroud. That is the tale he told the other first families when he convinced them to pour magic into it .

I can say that the idea is brilliant because, for the first time in my life—without having the scepter in front of me—I am tempted to drain the magic from the shroud. It wouldn’t hurt the families as the shroud only has bits of their magic, just enough to keep it in place. But it’s enough to tempt me. To make me crave.

“Be strong,” my dad says, his hand on my shoulder.

I nod because I’m so overcome by my need for power that I can’t speak. I’m also a little freaked out at the idea of cords shooting out of my stomach to drain the power from it. And even more freaked that someone might see me that way.

“What does it feel like? Draining someone’s power?” I could find out. It would be so easy. He’s got witch power and he’s standing right next to me. But he’s also holding the scepter because no one—my parents included—thinks I should have it until it’s time to be used. It’s too much power for someone so young, they said. But they were all thinking that it was too much power to put in the hands of syphoner when she’s standing in the most magically infused building on the face of the earth. I didn’t need to be able to read thoughts to hear their hushed whispers.

“It’s like…” He closes his eyes for a second. “It’s like that first bite of cake while you’re on a diet.” That didn’t sound terrible. “But then after that first bite, you have to have all the cake and you have to gobble it down as fast as you can, and when the cake is gone, you have to go find more cake because you’re sure you’ll die without it. And the more cake you eat, the more you want. The more you need . Until you can’t think of anything else.”

I nod. I like cake.

“RJ, you have to be stronger than the desire. You can’t let the darkness get you.” He shakes his head and looks at me. Whatever he sees, I can’t guess. But it’s enough to make him look again, to stare, to stand in front of me and shake my shoulders. “You listen to me, RJ. You have to be stronger than all that desire to take. You like brownies, not cake, you hear me?”

I nod again.

“When this is over, I’ll tell you what I do to fight it.”

He thinks I didn’t hear the whispers in the dining room after their little parents meeting. They were all guessing, saying whichever kid it was who had the power to syphon would have to be sent away. Locked up. Taken far from the Institute. It’s what they should’ve done with Elizabeth. I understand they’re scared. That, however, doesn’t make it easier to hear. To know.

“Better tell me now.” I could really use the advice.

But before he can speak, one of the lights overhead flashes brighter, dims, then explodes in a shower of sparks.

“She’s here, RJ.”

I nod because I can feel her. I can feel the stolen power inside of her.

“Remember, get her into the Hall of Greats.”

I’m not particularly fond of the idea, but I nod. The others are going to throw a spell that locks us in there until I can cast the killing spell and zap her with the scepter. If all goes well, she turns to dust. If it happens not to go well, she’ll break the spell, drain all their magic, and the lines of the first-family magic will die. No pressure.

The doors blow open and it’s like something out of a movie. The lockers in the hallways open. Papers are sucked out and into the gymnasium as she stands in silhouette from the lights outside and the brightness of the moon.

She’s got my hair—full, thick and curly—and Aimee’s build—petite and athletic. But when she steps inside, her eyes glow and she stalks across the lacquered hardwood, her heels clicking on the surface with every step.

Her eyes are glowing red, and it reminds me of some of the old pictures in Mom’s photo albums from when we were kids. It looks like this woman is in a permanent state of having Mom take her pictures.

I stand still, well aware that I am supposed to be leading her toward the Hall of Greats, but I can’t move. I can feel Aimee’s power in her, and Zane’s, and I want them. I want them so badly I can taste it.

She looks at me and laughs. For a second, I wonder if she knows how intensely I feel it. It’s in my bones, in my blood.

The wind whips around me, blowing my hair into my face. It’s a nice trick and I can tell she’s using Aimee’s magic to make it happen. I laugh because it’s very 1980s movie magic. I leech off her stolen magic to slam the doors shut and make it stop.

She yanks away my hold on Aimee’s magic and I stumble backward. I never realized using magic was that physical before. I thought it was all mental. Not for the first time, I wish someone would’ve fully explained all of this—what I am—to me and how it works. For now, all they’ve told me is how to handle this.

I’m going to do this for Aimee because as soon as I touched her power, I could tell the difference between when she had it and what it is now. With Aimee, her power is light and bright, not dangerous. In Elizabeth, Aimee’s power is darkness and terrifying. She better not have destroyed my sister’s goodness. I will make her death decidedly more painful if she has. Mom gave me that spell too, just in case.

When she gets close to me, she stops. “You?” Like she can’t believe little old me is going to be the one who takes her down.

I nod. “Me.”

Although, up close, she’s beautiful in a way that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. She glows with magic. She has the magic of four of the first families inside of her. And when I look close enough, I can see the lines of power in her eyes.

“It’s not your magic.”

She circles me. “It is.” Her voice is low, hoarse, as if she’s been screaming.

“It belongs to them.”

“They’re children. They have no need for it.” She shakes her head. “My magic was stolen from me.”

“No,” I say. “We never had magic. You and me. We were born without it.”

“It’s mine!” she screams and another of the overhead lights blows. There is a loud boom—thunder inside the building.

I flinch because I don’t like thunder when it’s outside in the sky. I sure as fuck don’t want to be alone with it inside.

“Where is the Scepter of Power?” Without touching me, she lifts me from the ground and I can’t breathe. It’s as if the hand she has curled in the air is actually gripping my throat.

I can’t answer her because I can’t speak or breathe or see how this is going to end well for me. I clutch at a hand that isn’t there, trying to break free to get oxygen to my lungs while I kick my feet trying to reach the ground that has fallen away from me.

The edges of my sight are tinged in black that is getting thicker as it moves in .

And then I fall, and it feels as if the drop takes forever before I crash to the floor.

“Stand up, RJ!” I can hear Aimee’s voice in my head and I don’t know how or why, or maybe if she’s standing at the door watching because this is quite the commotion and they’ve all probably come running, but I get to my feet and look around for her, and see her standing by the door.

“I can feel them all here, waiting for me.” She shoves open the door at the side of the gym that leads to the hallway. It slams shut behind her as I run to it and push as hard as I can. The damned thing won’t move.

“Get out of the way, RJ.” Dad pushes me to the side, then throws a bolt of what can only be lightning by the way it explodes the heavy metal door and leaves a molten puddle for me to jump over.

I still don’t have the scepter, but neither does Elizabeth, so I chase her. She’s opening doors—every door—and looking inside for the congregational meeting of magicians that should be happening right now. I shake my head and run past when she opens a closet and looks inside.

As soon as she sees me, she closes that door and follows, walking as though she’s in no big hurry.

The Hall of Greats has trinkets and treasures inside that belong to the first families. I don’t know if they have magic or not, but when I turn into the room, my dad is already there—he can probably teleport and didn’t think that was important to tell me either—along with Aimee, Zane, Finn, Piper, Circe, Aurora, Dylan. Aimee and Zane have no power but are here to help in any way they can. Probably to get their power back as soon as I’ve…done what I have to do.

They are all ready, standing where they should be standing, holding the enchanted objects of their families, watching the door with anticipation. Although, and I’m ashamed to admit it, my anticipation is for an entirely different reason.

Mine is because my mother told me that when I end Elizabeth, there will be a glorious moment when the power of the four witches drains from Elizabeth’s body and will flow through me before it returns to those from whom it was stolen.

I haven’t stopped thinking about it since she said it. Since she told me.

I haven’t stopped wanting it. She also said, like it was some sort of cautionary tale instead of an enticement, that when that power passed through me, all of my cravings would awaken and I would have to be strong, fight not to hold onto the magic.

Use extreme caution , she’d said.

But I could never take Aimee’s magic.

Before I can finish the thought, the door to the Hall opens and Elizabeth is there, standing in the doorway. “I can feel it. Give me the scepter, brother.” She walks toward my father and lifts him the way she did me. He’s gasping, eyes bulging, fingers clawing at the skin of his own neck. Yeah. Been there.

Aimee opens her long jacket and pulls out the scepter to hand to me. As soon as I touch it, the power flows into me. I’m holding the magic of nine families in my hand and the power of it is surging through me. I want to savor it, but my father is turning blue, the room is in chaos—the wind is back and there’s chanting from somewhere—and they’re all shouting for me to stop this.

But I want to hold the scepter for another minute before I aim it at her. I want to enjoy this feeling before I have to give it up .

“RJ, please!” Aimee says franticly beside me. “Save him. Save us!”

Everyone in this room knows that when she’s finished with my father, she’ll come for each one of them. But she drops him and turns to me. She wants the scepter.

It’s unfortunate because so do I.

I lift it into the air. It’s glowing now, spinning in my hand so the jewels on top blur into a purple haze that rises above, circles the room, then flows into me. The spell is complete and I throw the scepter to the side and the metal clinks along the tiled floor until it comes to a stop at the pillar holding the bust of Sir Allister Strain, the first English Lord who was proven to be a witch and came to the Americas to avoid being killed.

He’s the great or great-great or three times great grandfather to Finnick, who is standing beside Zane as they all watch me. They’re expecting me to use the power I just drained from the scepter to kill Elizabeth. It’s the right thing to do, the plan that I was forced into agreeing to carry out. But the power inside of me is intoxicating, and I wonder if this is how Aimee feels every day of her life.

There’s a voice inside of me saying I could keep it. I could have this power and use it for good. I don’t have to hurt anyone. I don’t have to drain another witch.

But then I hear my mother’s voice. The one that’s always in my head when I’m deciding whether to be good or bad. RJ, that power belongs to the first families. All of them. Not you.

I know.

You can’t keep it.

I know that, too.

Elizabeth picks up the scepter, holds it in the air then pulls it down, twists it this way and that way to examine it. After a moment, she tries again. Holds it up to the light. Nothing happens a second time and she screams. Not like a regular pissed off yell. This is the kind of scream that belongs in a scary movie when the heroine is being chased by all the worst fictional villains, clowns, demons, and scary ass dolls Hollywood has ever created.

Every other sound in the room dies and if this was indeed something from Hollywood, we would banter now. She would ask for the power. I would tell her it isn’t hers. She would remind me it isn’t mine, either.

We would go back and forth for a while. That makes for good TV, but this is my life and I can’t think of one witty thing to say to her. Instead, I narrow my eyes, give a slight nod, and the chanting starts back up. The first families sat at my kitchen table last night and created a binding spell so strong, none of them could break it. Four together couldn’t break it. Only five. So, as long as I don’t let her drain another witch before they finish, she won’t be strong enough to break free before I…

I wait until she’s motionless, until only her eyes are a threat to me. And then Zane nods to me.

I should do it right now. But as soon as I do, the magic that let me take the power from the scepter will go back to the scepter.

“RJ!” Aimee is crouched beside Dad and looks up at me. “I can’t help him without magic.”

Dammit. She’s right.

Zane holds the scepter, waiting for me to do what I am supposed to do. They’re all waiting for me.

“You don’t have to do this,” Elizabeth says. “We can share the power. You and me, RJ. You don’t have to give it up, don’t have to give back the euphoria. ”

Yes. That is the exact right word for what I am feeling. “Euphoria.”

“Think of the power, RJ.”

I can see them all yelling, see the wind blowing again, and this time it’s me. I’m making it happen. I’ve got power and energy and magic flowing through me for the first time in my life, and I want to keep it.

“RJ!” It’s my Mom’s voice again. “It’s not yours. Give your sister her magic back.” I can see us, me and Aimee on the back patio when we were kids. I was about five, which would have made Aimee about seven. She’s lying back on the concrete, hurt, hand over her chest. She’s breathing so softly I can barely see her chest rise and fall under her hand. Mom is standing over me, her hands on my shoulders, as she gives me a hard shake. “RJ! That magic isn’t yours. Give your sister her magic back.”

When mini-me passes the magic back to her, my mother stands for a minute with her eyes closed and then I feel nothing. No magic. No need for it even. She’d cast a spell. And if she’d done it to me then, why couldn’t we do it for Elizabeth now?

“It won’t return the magic, RJ,” Mom’s voice in my head says.

I know it. The only way they get their magic back is if Elizabeth returns it or if I kill her.

Fuck.

Elizabeth smiles at me. She knows what I feel right now. The pleasure, the need, the magic intoxication. My thoughts are clouded, or maybe it’s that they’re clearer than they’ve ever been and I don’t know how to handle it. “It feels good, doesn’t it? That power.”

It does.

“RJ, please! I have to help him! ”

I glance over at Aimee, still crouched by our father, by the man who left us to save himself. And I’m angry all over again. I shouldn’t have to do this because he was too weak to do it a long time ago. I shouldn’t be the one.

Along with my anger, the allure of the magic is calling me, begging me to savor it, to keep it, and I tilt my head back, look at the ceiling, wishing I could be the girl I’m supposed to be. “I’m sorry.”

For a moment, even I wonder who I’m apologizing to, and then I make a decision because I’m finally the person I’ve always been meant to be.