Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

VALERIA

T he lunch bell rang, and kids flooded the quad. The old art building loomed behind me as I waited in our coven's usual spot beneath the Palms. Luke and Gwen hadn't shown up to school. They were twenty-four hours away from limitless malevolent power; I supposed they were no longer concerned with anything as Mundane as academics. Part of me was braced for impact, as if I expected them to leap out from behind a tree and attack at any moment, but intuition told me they were biding their time.

Tomorrow was the eclipse. Tomorrow would be their day.

The Palms towering overhead felt imposing, as if they were glaring down at me, as if the universe knew my failures. After all that had happened yesterday at Luke's, I had no defense to offer them. I'd been so infatuated with Luke, so clouded by my own stupid jealousy, I'd missed the threat right in front of me. Petra had been right: history was repeating itself. A Nichols and a Foster were dangerously close to achieving the Meteoric Union. Only this time around, a Nichols was leading the charge.

And then there was Gwen. The fact that she'd chosen to go along with Luke's plan hurt even more than his betrayal. Was the shy, compassionate girl I used to know gone forever? Her words echoed in my mind. Don't blame me if I don't want to be that Gwen ever again. Blame yourself. Of course, her decisions were her own, but I certainly hadn't made things easy for her. I'd pushed her away the moment I discovered she had malevolent magic, and I hadn't exactly been kind before that.

As I sat there, regretting my past, I felt the future stretch before me, dangerous and uncertain. I shifted uncomfortably on the hard ground, placing a protective hand over my bag. Beneath the designer logo bulged the outline of Delfina Garcia's diary. I'd messaged the rest of the coven with a synopsis of my visit to Luke's, but the prospect of facing them in person made my heart race. Today would be no ordinary coven meeting. Today, we were going to talk battle strategy.

Jayden was the first to arrive, his steps echoing beneath a pair of red suede boots. He wore a fashionably disjointed ensemble, the boots at odds with ripped jeans and a black hip-length shift. To me, the meaning behind the outfit was clear: Jayden's world was upside down.

"That two-faced snake in a leather jacket!" he declared, plopping down on the grass beside me. "I should have known."

"I thought I knew Luke better than anyone," I said. "And I fell for it too."

I expected him to hit me with a quick one-liner, something about how I'd also fallen for the tiny purse trend two seasons ago. Instead, he gazed across the quad as if searching for the right words.

"I don't blame you, Val. Love makes us crazy."

"And stupid," I replied bitterly. "For years, I thought if I could just get Luke Nichols to care for me the way I cared for him, everything would be okay. All that time swooning over him, and I never knew he was a monster."

"Even if he had been Prince Charming, I don't think it works like that."

I turned to him. "What do you mean?"

He picked at a patch of bark on a palm tree's broad trunk. "I mean, nobody is going to swoop into your life and make everything okay. You need to deal with your own crap first."

I let out an involuntary giggle. "You read that on a cross-stitched throw pillow or something?"

"Nope. Found out the hard way. Laugh all you want, but from one rich kid with issues to another, trust me."

There was an unfamiliar vulnerability in his dark brown eyes. He was serious, and to my surprise, I realized he was deeply sad.

"Well, thanks," I replied. "Maybe if I'd figured that out sooner, I would have seen Luke for what he really was. I can't believe I actually suspected Max and Celeste!"

"Valeria—"

I went on, swept up in a wave of guilt. I told him about their conflicting alibis—how I'd watched them and followed them home from school.

"Valeria!" Jayden said again, and the urgency in his voice made me go silent. "The night Petra died, Max was with me."

"What?" I blurted. It hit me. The way Max seemed to avoid Jayden lately, as if something had changed between them. "Wait, are you and Max?—?"

"No—I don't know," he said, not looking at me. "Maybe we could have been if I hadn't ruined it. All my life, I've held people at a distance. The only person I trusted was Petra. I figured all you need is one good friend, right?"

His fingers closed around a small vial he wore around his neck, dried herbs floating within, the dainty white petals of elderflower.

"Oh, Jayden—" I began, but he was still speaking, words pouring out of him as if he couldn't hold them back any longer.

"But I always thought about Max. His kindness, his strength. In the back of my mind, I knew he and I might have a chance at something real. The thing is, real is scary. Real means you can get hurt." He turned to me suddenly, as if remembering something. "Did you know Max has a puppy wall calendar in his bedroom?"

"Um, no," I replied, not sure where he was going with this.

"Well, he does. You know why? Because he likes puppies. Wanna know what's on my bedroom wall? Posters of trendy bands I don't even listen to. That's the difference between him and me. He's not afraid to be who he is. I'm always afraid, Val. Afraid to care, afraid to let my guard down. Most of the time, I'd rather be cool than be myself. That's why it took me so long to admit what I really wanted."

"But you finally did?"

"Yup," he replied dully, as if the memory cast him into some dark, cynical place. "After our parents lost their magic, I started thinking. I decided I was through with pushing people away. One night, I drove to his house and told him I felt the same way he did. I always had. He kissed me right then and there. It felt great, like he and I were about to begin something amazing. Like I was waking up at last from a long, cold sleep."

"That's wonderful!" I exclaimed, but the look in his eyes told me my celebration was premature.

"That was the night Petra died. When I found out what happened to her, I freaked. Just like that, the only person I'd ever trusted was gone. I swore I'd never lose anyone I loved again. So I took it all back." He shut his eyes against tears. "I told Max I'd made a mistake. There was nothing between us and there never would be. I was so ashamed of myself, I even asked him to lie about where we were that night. And he did. For me. Because that's the kind of person he is." He let out a joyless laugh. "He hasn't spoken to me since."

I felt my heart break for them both. I wouldn't blame Max if he stayed angry at Jayden for the rest of his life. But I couldn't say that. Not after the courage it must have taken to tell me the truth. I searched for the right words, but anything that came to me sounded silly and trite.

"I think he's going to need some time," I said at last.

He twirled a blade of grass in his fingers, a distant expression on his face. "What if we don't have time? I can feel a fight coming. I could die before I get the chance to show Max how sorry I am."

My fingers tightened into fists. "I will not let that happen," I told him. "I haven't always been a good leader or a good friend. In fact, most of the time, I was terrible at both. But I promise I'll keep the rest of you alive if it's the last thing I do."

I felt my heart flutter in my chest, and I realized I meant it. I would die for them if I had to. He looked at me, surprised by how serious I'd become.

"Thank you." He touched the vial around his neck again.

"What's in there?"

"Something I've been working on ever since she died. Maybe it's my way of making amends with the universe…if that's even possible for a guy like me."

I thought of all the wrong I'd done. All the hurt I'd caused. And I thought of Gwen.

"Good people make mistakes," I said. "Sometimes one wrong turn can get you lost at sea with no road map home."

"Okay, are we in a car or boat in this metaphor?"

He laughed, and I squeezed his hand in mine. Being this honest with another person felt surprisingly good, like it was something my soul had been craving for a long time.

"I don't know! I'm just saying, if we're willing to try, maybe all us lost, imperfect people can get back home. Maybe we can even light one another's way."

The sound of footsteps on concrete announced the arrival of Max and Celeste. Jayden dabbed at his tears with his sleeve before turning to face them.

Celeste clung to her brother, her arm gripped tightly in his as if she might buckle under some invisible weight. Max's brow was furrowed, his jaw tense. He didn't look at Jayden as he approached. He kept his gaze down, the ground infinitely more appealing than the boy who'd broken his heart.

And that was all of us. I was struck by how small our coven had become. As they sat in a loose circle before me, I could practically feel the empty spaces left by Luke, Gwen, and Petra.

"Okay," I said to our meager group. "You all know why we're here. Luke and Gwen are about to gain some seriously dangerous power. This is the part where we decide how to stop them."

"And how do we do that exactly?" Max asked.

Hesitantly, I withdrew the leather-bound book from my purse. "There's a passage at the end of the diary," I said. "I think it's a spell."

"Great—" Jayden began, but I held up a hand to stop his excitement.

I turned to the diary's final page and showed them its contents. There was a liquid quality about the cursive letters. They seemed to wind into one another, none forming recognizable words. The longer I gazed at the writing, the harder it became to discipher.

"It's enchanted somehow," I told them. "She must not have wanted this spell to fall into the wrong hands."

"But we're not the wrong hands!" Celeste said indignantly, as if Delfina Garcia had personally offended her.

"I guess the book doesn't know that," I replied, setting it down on the grass, still open to the mysterious page.

A disappointed silence fell over the group.

"Maybe I could talk to Luke," Max said finally as he settled on the ground beside his sister. "I mean, we've known each other all our lives. We're supposed to be brothers. Maybe he'd listen."

I shook my head wearily. "He believes the Meteoric Union is his destiny. He's been waiting his whole life for this. Nothing's going to change his mind now. I'm sorry."

"What about Gwen?" said Jayden. "Is she like Patty Hearst with Stockholm syndrome, or has she gone full wicked witch?"

I thought of the last time I'd seen Gwen, the loneliness I'd felt from her, even as she stood by Luke's side.

"There's a desperation about her. I don't know what she's capable of," I replied. I hesitated before speaking my next words. "But we were friends once. Back when we were kids. She was kind then, much kinder than I ever was. I want to believe there's still good inside her."

They were quiet a moment, pondering a reality where Gwen Foster and I had been anything close to friends.

"But didn't she attack you at Luke's house?" Celeste said. "Didn't she let Luke torture you with the Shadow Spell?"

I sighed. I couldn't deny Gwen was dangerous. The dull pain in my shoulder where her moonfire had struck me was proof of that. "Yes, and if the time comes, I will deal with her. But for now, we make Luke our number-one target."

"Are you sure you can do that?" Max said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, I mean, he's your ex-lover!" Celeste added.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at Celeste's flair for the dramatic.

"I've seen who Luke really is, and it's ugly," I told them. "I'm not his fool anymore like Gwen is. I know he can't be saved, or maybe he's not worth saving. In a way, it sets me free. I'm ready to do whatever it takes to stop him."

As I spoke the words, I felt their truth in my soul. When it came to Luke, there was nothing left to do but take him down.

A flicker of movement caught my eye. The writing in the diary was rearranging itself, words appearing on the page as if the book had been waiting for that moment to reveal its secret.

The heading, in Delfina's proud script, read A Spell to Vanquish Malevolent Magic.

"Looks like we're trustworthy after all," Jayden mused.

We are now, I thought, marveling at the magic Delfina had cast on the page. I'd sworn aloud I was ready to defeat Luke, no matter what, and the book seemed to sense the sincerity of my words. So this was how she'd prevented the spell from falling into the hands of the enemy.

I grabbed the diary eagerly.

"‘There is but one spell that will allow a coven to drain the malevolent magic from a foe,'" I read aloud, then I skimmed over the flowery prose. "It says we need to enchant a mirror using a drop of Luke's blood. Once the mirror is imbued, we can aim it at Luke to draw the malevolent magic out of him."

There was a stunned silence as they considered the enormity of our task. Jayden announced with forced enthusiasm, "Hey, look, we have a plan!"

I nodded in agreement. "We can use this spell to drain Luke's malevolent magic before he and Gwen can complete the ritual."

My voice rang with resolution, but my heart raced. We didn't have much time.

"If we enchant the mirror with Luke's blood, you think it'll work against Mr. Nichols too?" Jayden said. "After all, they share a bloodline. What's that saying? The apple doesn't fall far from the malevolent tree?"

"If he gets in our way, I guess we'll find out," I said somberly.

"This spell sounds dangerous," Max said.

"Duh," Celeste replied.

"I meant for Luke. Couldn't it…hurt him?"

I scanned further, searching Delfina's prim penmanship.

"‘No harm will come to the malevolent witch, as long as he possesses the will to survive,'" I read aloud, then the next words caught my eye. Dismay tugged at the pit of my stomach. "‘To achieve the spell's full power, it must be performed by the entire coven.'"

Another silence, longer this time.

"I hate to state the obvious, but two of our members are currently on the wrong side," Celeste said.

I touched my shirt above the spot where the sacred circle was carved into my chest. Luke and Gwen had circles over their hearts, too, and they certainly wouldn't be participating in the spell. I felt a cloud of doubt settle above our heads.

"I know," I said. "We'll have to settle for less than full power. Unless anyone can come up with a better plan."

"How about we run?" Celeste offered.

The rest of us eyed her with skepticism.

"Okay, hear me out. They want a coven to lead, right? What if we just skip town? Boom. Thwarted."

I looked down at the kids on the quad. From up here, they looked tiny, fragile, like any one of them could be crushed with a well-aimed fist. If Gwen and Luke achieved the Meteoric Union, none of them would be safe from their wrath. And what about our parents? How long before Luke got bored and used his Shadow Spell on one of them? I shook my head as the desperate reality hit me.

"I can't run away from this," I said. As I looked at my coven, taking in the new warmth in Jayden's eyes, the brave jut of Max's chin, and the innocence of Celeste's worried pout, I felt fiercely protective of each of them. "But I can't put you all at risk. I'll face them alone tomorrow. I'll stop them before they can do the ritual."

"Nice try," Jayden said. " We'll face them together."

"I'll be there," Max said, his voice low with conviction.

Celeste kept her gaze fixed on her toes. "No," she murmured. "We're dealing with witches who can kill us on a whim. I want to graduate. I want to study fashion at NYU. And someday, I want to go to Mykonos and stay in a suite with an infinity pool that looks out over the ocean. I am not dying at fifteen over some stupid prophecy."

"Celeste," Max began gently, "I know you're scared?—"

"You're damn right I am," she shot back, a quiver of tears mixed with the anger in her voice. "If you were smart, you would be too."

She mumbled something that might have been an apology before rising and marching down the steps. I watched her silhouette disappear among the laughing students below.

"I'm sorry," Max said. "I'll talk to her." But the look in his eyes told me he wasn't sure he could bring his sister around.

"It's okay," said Jayden, his brows drawn. "Celeste is right. We all have plans, futures. But since the rest of us seem to be temporarily insane, tomorrow we fight."

"Thank you." I placed a grateful hand on each of their shoulders. "Meet in my garden tomorrow morning before the eclipse starts."

"What are you going to do tonight?" Max asked warily.

"We need blood, right?" I replied. "I'm going to Luke's."

After nightfall, I stole through the woods between my house and Luke's. The birds hadn't returned to the forest since the trees died. The air was still, and no sound of living things rustled in the bare branches. Luke's house loomed like a giant tombstone in the distance, bone-colored and austere. It was strange how different the house looked to me now. The last time I'd climbed the ivy trellis to Luke's window was the night we'd watched the aurora. I could still feel my feet on the shaky rungs, my body alive with the unnamable excitement that always used to take hold when I was about to see him.

Tonight, every window was dark. No one was waiting up for me.

I slid the back gate open and glanced at the western wall. In the dim moonlight, the ivy that crept up was black and amorphous. I made my way to the leafy mass and began to paw at it in the dark. Dewdrops chilled my fingers.

There. My freezing hands connected with something solid amidst the layers of vines. The ivy had grown over it, making it barely visible, but the trellis was still there. Luke had never thought to move it, even after everything he'd done had come to light. Perhaps it wasn't carelessness but cockiness; perhaps he simply didn't consider me a threat. I was reminded suddenly of a button Petra used to wear on her backpack: carry yourself with the confidence of a mediocre white man.

I curled my fingers around the splintery wood and placed a foot on the lower rung. Here I come, lover.

Up I went, clawing for handholds among the vines. The handkerchief I would use to collect Luke's blood was folded in my back pocket. The ceremonial dagger, at home in its sheath, was pressed against my thigh. An invisible heat seemed to radiate from it as if it knew it would soon be put to use.

My fingers grazed the windowpane, and I hoisted myself up to peer inside. The room was dark, the white moon reflected back at me in the glass. Was he in there? With careful hands, I tried the window. I almost laughed when it slid up easily. Unlocked as usual. He wasn't even a little bit afraid of me. I hoped that was about to change.

I lowered my head and squeezed myself through, placed one foot gently down on the bedroom floor, then the other. I shivered. Somehow, it felt colder in here than it did outside.

After a moment, my eyes adjusted to the dim light. A square of moonlight filtered in from the window behind me, illuminating two sleeping faces. Luke was closer to me, his breaths deep and slow. Gwen slept beside him, her hair spilling over the pillow in black rivers.

I knew Luke's bedroom floor creaked. All our floors did, as if the centuries-old wood was protesting generations of trodding feet. I took one long, careful step, then I stood frozen, looming over Luke. His left arm hung off the side of the bed.

All I needed was a drop of blood. The coven's sacred dagger was always sharpened as fine as a razor blade. If I floated it right, I could prick his fingertip no harder than an insect bite. He wouldn't even wake, and I'd be out the window before he knew what happened.

A chill tickled my neck. That was the plan, anyway.

With trembling fingers, I drew the dagger from its sheath and pulled the handkerchief from my pocket. I took a breath and let the dagger hover at Luke's open palm. My mind went blank until all I saw was the knife and its target. I touched the knife's point to Luke's finger, as light and brief as a chaste kiss.

In a second, a single red drop grew on his fingertip. He stirred, but his eyes remained closed. I caught the droplet in the air, held it with my mind like a precious ruby and closed the handkerchief around it with one hand. Done.

I pressed the handkerchief into my back pocket and called the dagger back to my hand.

I was about to step silently to the window when something flickered in my peripheral vision—the tiniest flash of light. I froze.

Gwen's eyes were open. The moon was reflected in them, a glint of silver in her black pupils. We stared at each other in the darkness. I realized both of us were holding our breath as if waiting for the other to exhale first. She'll call to him, I thought. Any second, she'll call to him .

But the seconds ticked on.

I looked at Gwen, her eyes wild with fear, her fingers clenching the covers, knuckles white. It was hard to believe this was the same girl who used to run barefoot with me through the trees. The girl who was free to answer to her own whims, to the raven's call. Now, as she sat frozen by Luke's side, she looked more like a captive than I'd ever seen her.

Before I knew what I was doing, I jerked my head toward the window in a silent gesture. Escape with me. Her eyes darted to the window, and I could tell she understood. She seemed to vacillate, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. But then her eyes landed on the knife that glinted in my hand, its sharp point poised dangerously near Luke's outstretched wrist.

"Luke!" she screeched, her voice high and edged with panic. "Luke!"

There was no time. A second later, he was lunging forward. His hands flew toward me, searching for something to tighten around, something to control. I retreated toward the window, but he caught the hem of my shirt. Even in the dark, I could see a black mass gathered in his other hand.

I cast a ball of sacred fire straight at his heart. It struck him in a phosphorescent burst, sending him tumbling over Gwen, his head hitting the floor with a dull thud. He lay there, momentarily dazed. I dove toward the window, still grasping the knife. Now I was ready to use it, ready to slash at whoever tried to stop me.

With my free hand, I gripped the windowsill and swung my legs over. My feet plunged into a mass of ivy. I kicked wildly for the rungs of the trellis. With a shock of pain, my toe hit something solid and I found my footing. The cool night air felt like freedom, like victory. But before I could lower myself to the next rung, a pair of hands tightened around my wrists.

I looked up, expecting to see Luke's cool, indifferent eyes. Instead, Gwen's pale face floated above me. She leaned her head and shoulders out the window, her grip so tight her nails dug into my skin. The look on her face was desperate, complex. Even as her fingers drew blood, I wondered if she was trying to stop me or if she just needed something to cling to.

Her eyes bore into mine. The loneliness I'd felt from her the last time we met seemed amplified now, bottomless. I'd missed a dozen chances to tell her before, but I knew this might be my last.

"I'm sorry," I called up to her.

"I'm sorry," she repeated back to me, her tone as lifeless as her eyes. I couldn't tell if she was apologizing for what she had done—or what she was yet to do.

The floor groaned as Luke stumbled to his feet. I wrenched myself from her grasp, leaving bloody streaks across my arms. Then he was at her side, his dark magic snaking toward me. I drew the sunfire up to meet it, but before I let it go, I looked at Gwen, holding her gaze with purpose.

"The birds don't care if you're pretty!" I cried.

I saw the look of confusion in Luke's eyes and the understanding in hers. I let the fire within me fly, sending them both tumbling backward.

As I scrambled down the trellis, I expected Luke to come after me, or Mr. Nichols to appear at the back door, Shadow Spell in hand. But when my feet touched down, I found myself alone. Why hadn't they followed? The question nagged at me, but I wasn't about to wait around for them. With a final backward glance, I darted toward the woods. I had a stop to make, and there was much to do before sunrise.