Spell Struck (14 page)

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"Hey, there's Kali!"

Mr. Miller slowed down. The car's wide headlights illuminated Kali as she trudged up the hill to the foreclosed house. "Your cousin?"

Salem leaned forward in the front seat. "The one who's your guardian?"

"Yes. She must have worked late." I pushed a button and the window sank into the car door. "Kali!"

She pivoted at the sound of my voice and raised her hand to shield her eyes. "Nico?"

Heat flared my cheeks. Luckily, the Millers were transfixed on Kali with her rundown leather boots, short skirt, white shirt, and Reba's Diner nametag peeking out from beneath her jacket. "No, it's me, Aidan. My friend from school and her dad are giving me a ride home."

Mr. Miller guided the SUV hybrid to the edge of the sidewalk. The headlights caught the realization as it dawned on Kali's face. "Oh,
Aidan. Sorry. I
'm half-deaf from the jukebox at work." She approached the window, crouched, and assessed the situation. "Hi." Her smile took in Salem and her dad. "I'm Kali. Wow. Something smells great!" Her gaze dropped to the steaming takeout container cradled in my hand. "You all go out for Chinese food?"

"Yes," Mr. Miller said. "I wish we could have reached you. We would have loved to have you join us." A mild rebuke tinged his tone. He probably figured a responsible guardian would be reachable by phone.

I massaged the back of my neck. "Sorry, Kali. I couldn't remember the name of your new workplace. The school and Mr. Miller wanted to call you."

Alarm widened Kali's eyes. "Why—?"

Mr. Miller softened his tone. "Hop in, Miss Cooper, and I will explain."

"Okay." Kali swung open the door.

I slid my butt and my messenger bag across the sand-colored leather seat to accommodate her. "Kali, this is Mr. Miller and his daughter Sarah. Sarah and I have a couple of classes together."

"Do you?" Kali closed the door and reached for the seatbelt. Mr. Miller waited until we had buckled up before proceeding up Dewing Street. Kali pinned me with a quizzical expression. "Why were people trying to reach me?"

"Nothing serious—"

"Aidan fainted in Drama." Mr. Miller sounded grave. Sweat dampened my armpits.

"No way!"

"I'm afraid it
is true,
" Mr. Miller said.

"My fault," I rushed to explain. "I should have eaten something before Gym."

"Oh." Kali shot me a questioning sideways look. She'd heard my concave stomach growl enough times to know hunger hadn't sent me crashing. She straightened her spine and assumed her guardian voice. "We've talked about this before,
Aidan
. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. You must get an earlier start in the morning and make time to eat."

"Yes, ma'am."
Which we both know would do zero good because there is no food in the house or electricity to preserve or prepare it. "
Here's our block," I instructed, realizing we were past the mishmash of apartments and houses. "You can drop us off anywhere."

Salem swiveled in the front seat. "Which house is yours?"

Reluctantly, I pointed to the dark foreclosed house. The van had disappeared again, which meant a shadowy trek to the back as soon as the Millers drove off. Mr. Miller swung the car into the cracked driveway. Mist beaded the windshield.

Kali opened the door, and the low purr of the engine melded with the chirping crickets. Swirling fog dimmed the light from the streetlamp, shrouding the place in a horror flick vibe.

"Kali, you forgot to set the timer for the lights again."

Her jaw dropped, and from the sudden blaze in her eyes I knew she was thinking,
Are you insane? Instead she said, "
Today's Friday. It was your turn." She paused before climbing out of the cozy warmth of the car. "Nice to meet you both. Thanks for the lift and for taking care of… Aidan."

"Any time." Mr. Miller twisted in the driver's seat. "Get Kali's work number and put it in your cell phone."

"Aidan doesn't have a phone yet," Salem interrupted.

Kali closed her door and stomped her boots against the concrete.

"Oh." A vertical furrow formed between Mr. Miller's brows.

I gathered up my bag and opened the door. More cold rushed in. "Don't worry, Mr. Miller. I will carry her number on me. Thanks again for everything. Bye, Salem."

"Wait!"

I paused, one leg out the door.

"How can I get hold of you?" Salem flicked an embarrassed glance at her dad. He faced forward again and drummed his fingers against the wheel. "You know," Salem continued, "for the Drama assignment."

"I'll be pretty busy this weekend."
Creating trinket boxes so Papo doesn't use me as a punching bag. I hoisted my satchel over my shoulder. "
If I make it to the library, I'll email you. What's your address?"

"
[email protected]. What's yours?

"

"[email protected]." I climbed out, because I could tell by the shift in Mr. Miller's energy he was getting impatient.

"I wouldn't have taken you for a Guy Ritchie fan."

Huh? I shrugged, clueless to the reference, and started to push the door closed.

Salem remained locked on me. Her eyes shined with end-of-the-world desperation. Not because of Drama, I figured, but because of Amy. "Good luck," I mouthed.

She nodded. I pressed the door closed and stepped back. Mr. Miller rotated his hand in a single wave before backing the shiny car out of the driveway. As the headlights swung onto the street, the gloom enveloped me like a skeleton's soulless hug.

Chapter Nineteen

Kali hugged herself against the cold. "You fainted? Are you coming down with something?" She pressed her icy palm against my forehead, then the back of her hand against my cheek.

"Magdalena and Papo launched a psychic attack."

The color leached from her face.

"They're getting stronger somehow."

"How?" Kali shivered. "What if the grimoire is real? What if they're drawing power from it?"

The thought festered like hex hives in my gut. "The spell book doesn't exist." I hated lying, even to protect her. "Magic—"

A warning prickle danced up the back of my neck. The unmistakable rumble of the van pushed beyond its limit roared into my consciousness. As soon as the thought registered, the van stormed the driveway, an assault weapon on balding tires. Kali shrieked. Adrenaline hijacked my brain. I dropped the takeout container, grabbed Kali, and pulled her out of the way.

The tires squealed, or maybe it was the brakes. The van lurched to a sudden stop and the smell of burnt rubber seared my nostrils. Papo's feral expression through the pitted windshield pushed a lever I had long kept in neutral. As he unbuckled his seat belt, I yanked open the driver's side door and grabbed him by his bomber jacket's lapels. His sneer morphed into wide-eyed surprise. Adrenaline pumped untapped strength into my arms and I hauled him out of the van and pushed him against it.

"You could have killed Kali!"

Whatever shock had kept Papo from defending himself dissolved. He jabbed in mad dog fury, breaking my grip, and bounced me against the van.

"Stop!" Kali screamed.

Pain stabbed my right shoulder and shot down my arm.

"So now you're a tough guy, Nico? I don't
think so.
" He pulled back for the punch. I flinched sideways and the blow struck the side of my head. Heat and pain rushed to my ear. A high-pitched ringing erupted inside my head.

"Enough," Magdalena commanded. "We still need him."

Still need me?

Papo raised his fist again in silent warning, then let it drop. "I was aiming for you, not Kali." His beady-eyed glare pinned me. "You're behind on your trinket boxes and altars. You think the booth at the Crystal Faire was free?"

"You wrecked his arm," Kali wailed.

Down the street, Artemis's and Mitzi's high-pitched barks pierced the night.

"Everyone inside." Magdalena glared at Papo. "He better mend quickly. The clock is ticking."

Ticking toward what
—
the Crystal Faire or the grimoire?

Kali's hand shook as she retrieved the container of orange chicken and rice. For the first time, hatred smoldered in her jade-green eyes.

Papo angled his head and cracked his neck, but the tick beneath his right eye betrayed his wavering bravado. His energy bristled as he led the silent procession through the entry gate. Sheltered by the hedge, the three of them pulled out their flashlights. I clutched my arm and fought back the vomit rising in my throat.

"Light a fire," Papo ordered Kali once we were inside and the candles had been lit. "And give me the food."

Kali handed over the takeout carton, then stalked to the fireplace.

Papo jabbed his finger in my direction. "No heat for you. Go to one of the bedrooms and close the door. Don't come out until I say so, or I'll make sure the next time I'm driving, I won't miss."

Kali stepped forward.

Papo stabbed his finger at her. "Not a word." Kali shrank back. To me he said, "If you're lucky, I'll let you out sometime this weekend."

I threw Kali a don't-do-anything look before fumbling down the cold, dark hallway. My good hand skimmed the wall until I came to a bedroom. The door closed behind me with a loud click, the sound penetrating one ear. The other ear, hot and swollen, still rang. Alone, pain buckled me and I slumped onto the floor.
Carpet. Thank goodness. I pulled my messenger bag across my lap for warmth and waited while my eyes adjusted to the blackness. Moonlight weakened by the mist filtered through the uncovered window
, enough to confirm the room was bare.

I strained to hear something, anything. Murmurings floated in like ghosts from the living room. No noise from the end of the block — June must have quieted the dogs. I flexed my hand. Fresh pain shot up my arm. How would I fix June's step tomorrow? No way would I be a no-show.

And what about Salem? She needed my help, too. I eased myself down onto my good side and curled up like a two-year-old. Sleep. I needed sleep. Afterward, I'd figure things out. My eyes fluttered closed and my mind drifted to June's kitchen. No matter how much I concentrated, I couldn't draw its motherly warmth around me. So I tried to conjure up Bronwyn, my single known living relative. I wondered what the San Francisco police officer had told her all those years ago.
Your nephew is fine. No need to worry.

Liar.

Chapter Twenty

I spotted Mom first. The unforgiving light in the meet-and-greet area near the baggage claim highlighted the dark circles under her eyes and the tight set of her lips. Added worry, like a poisonous flower, bloomed in my stomach.

Then Amy shuffled into view. Her light gray hoodie, emblazoned with the scarlet MIT logo, billowed around her pipe cleaner thin body. The jeggings encasing her legs disappeared into clumpy sheepskin boots. My gaze trailed back up to her face. She had wrapped a black wool scarf around her neck and chin. Her eyes locked onto mine. They weren't my sister's. They belonged to some wild animal that had been cornered and caught.

I took Dad's hand and squeezed it.

"Hey." Amy hugged me like I was her long-lost best friend instead of her loser little sister. Every bone in her back pressed against my hands and arms and her hipbones jutted into me. She stank of airplane, anxiety, and sweat. When she released me, she raised her pale, trembling hands to her mouth.

"Hey." I glanced up at Mom. Dad had enwrapped her in a comforting embrace. He whispered something in Mom's ear, and she slumped against him, eyes moist. "Must be past three in the morning, your time," I said to Amy.

"Yeah. Mom's whipped." She stuffed some of her scarf into her mouth and sucked on it.

"Welcome home, Splash." Dad embraced Amy. "Let's get your luggage and get you ladies home."

Mom's small, unassuming suitcase arrived first, igniting hope that we'd get out before the bars closed and the drunks hit the highway. As the conveyor belt circled with no sign of Amy's bag, Dad rocked on his heels. Amy brought her hands to her mouth again, fingertips pressed together as though she held an invisible sandwich. The odd mannerism reminded me of an underfed squirrel.

"Where's your coat?" Gads, I sounded like Mom.

"In the outer pocket of my suitcase."

Mom rolled her eyes. They must have argued about it before checking their luggage.

Amy perked up. "There it is!" She pointed to her large, designer knock-off bag.

Dad strained to extricate it from the conveyor belt. "What's in here?"

Amy shrugged. "I dunno. Everything?"

Dad and Mom exchanged wary glances. I unzipped the bulging outer compartment, pulled out Amy's wool coat, and handed it to her. She slung it over her arm.

Fine. Freeze if you want. I clasped the handle of Mom
's bag. Her body sagged like worn-out leggings. I worried about her making it to the car. No way did she look capable of hauling her luggage. Dad zipped up Amy's case and towed it to the exit. We followed him, suitcase wheels whirring over the linoleum. Warnings to remain vigilant and not to park in the drop-off zone blared over the loud speaker.

The parking lot reeked of jet fuel. When we reached the car, I handed Mom and Amy blankets I had pilfered from our scarlet earthquake backpacks. Mom's face brightened. "Thank you, sweetie!" She pulled the fleece up to her chin and closed her eyes. "Wake me when we're home."

"You brought Flipper!" Amy hugged her toy dolphin then blew me a noisy air kiss.

"Einstein wanted to come, too," I explained. "But we thought Flipper would be better behaved."

"Good decision." Amy nosed the toy, then hugged it to her chest.

Dad's glance in the rearview mirror signaled a thumbs-up. I basked in the unaccustomed warmth of parental approval.

Amy's elated expression collapsed as suddenly as it had appeared. "You're the best sister. Ever. I'm going to miss you when I'm gone."

"By 'gone' you mean when you return to school, right?" I glanced at the front seat. Mom softly snored, and Dad was focused on passing a large truck while avoiding some maniac weaving through traffic at high speed.