The Lingering Grace (14 page)

“I didn’t promise anything.”

“No, Alice. I said
you’re
promised. You’re promised to
me
. That’s what the spell was for. You can’t turn on me now.”

“But I
can
back out. I might not be able to stop you, but I certainly don’t have to help you either.”

Eva’s cheeks were flaming. “Of all people, I thought I could count on
you
, Alice! I thought
you
would understand!”

“Why do you care so much, anyway?” Alice shot back. “What’s the big deal? So I don’t want to use your book. So what?”

“Because I need you to help me!”

The words rang in the air for a moment. A few strands of Eva’s mussed hair stood straight up and, combined with her pointed, pretty face, made her look both domestic and wild, like a feral cat. Alice stared back, sure she didn’t look any saner at the moment.

“Why?” she said at last.
And why couldn’t she just tell me that in the first place?

Eva chewed her lip for a moment before responding. She refolded her arms over the book, clasping it more tightly to her chest.

“I’m trying to make a spell,” she said, “A powerful one. I can’t find any that does what I need, so I’ve been trying to use pieces of other spells to put together my own. I’ve been working on it for a while now, but I’m stuck and I need more spells to work from. You have a spellbook. It could have what I need.”

“So you just wanted me to be your friend so you could get your hands on the book?” asked Alice. She hardly knew what to make of Eva at this point. A second ago, she had been panicking when Alice got hurt; now she was admitting that she’d only been using Alice this whole time. Alice couldn’t shake the feeling that Eva cared—at least a little—about her. But maybe that was just because the alternative was cold, brutal manipulation, and Alice couldn’t conceive of anyone being quite so heartless.

Eva protested vigorously enough to convince Alice that at the very least she wasn’t a psychopath. “No! Alice, we’re friends now. And I need you.”

“Need me because you want help with a spell.”

“Even if I
can
come up with a working spell, I won’t be powerful enough to make it work on my own. I need someone else—another witch. And when I saw what you could do, I thought … ”

“You thought I would be powerful enough to help you,” Alice finished for her, not even trying to hide the frustration in her voice.

Eva dashed forward and put a hand on Alice’s arm. “Don’t take it like that,” she begged. “I would have wanted to be friends with you anyway—even if you couldn’t do magic.”

Alice pulled back and Eva shook her head, then walked over to her desk and started digging in her backpack. Alice sat back down on the bed, pressing a hand to her head and trying to process all of this. On the one hand, it was oddly flattering to be considered valuable enough to manipulate. But in every other way, she felt betrayed. Betrayed and insulted and infuriated and … exhausted. She wanted to curl up under the covers and pretend this was a nightmare.

But reality wasn’t so easily wished away. She watched Eva’s back as she pulled something out of her bag, and asked, “What are you trying to do anyway? What’s the spell for?”

“Oh … ” Eva froze. “Well I’m not sure that you need to know quite yet … ”

Alice stood and looked over Eva’s shoulder, trying to see her face. But something else caught her eye that immediately took her mind off the spell.

The thing that Eva had pulled out of her backpack—the thing that she was now holding, stacked on top of her own spellbook—was Alice’s tattered, stolen library book. The one that should have been safely tucked under her covers.

She looked at the cover, then at Eva, wordlessly mouthing the question. Her fingertips went cold; her cheeks were burning.

Eva must have seen that Alice was approaching a breaking point because she stood up very slowly and backed away, books tucked under one arm, her other hand outstretched.

“Now don’t be angry,” she said. “I had to bring it. I knew we would need it. I’m not going to keep
it!”

“Why didn’t you ask?” Alice said, surprised at how soft her voice was. She stepped forward, eyes locked on her book; she couldn’t be sure if she had a concussion or if fury was causing the searing pain in her forehead.

“Because you would have said no. And we can’t waste time! You don’t understand how important this is.”

“So you stole my book and tricked me into thinking we were friends, when really you just wanted another witch to give you enough power to do some wild spell. And you expect me to just accept that? You expect me to nod and play along?” Alice’s voice grew louder with every sentence. She took another step forward and Eva shrunk back against her closet door. “Well I’m not going to be your sidekick. And I’m not going to be your friend.
Give me back my book.
”

But Eva didn’t move.

“Elizabeth thought she was better than everyone else, too,” Alice said, gaining steam now. It felt good to be angry, felt good to see Eva looking uncertain at last. “The witch who set the curse that almost killed me—she thought she could manipulate everyone and it would all work out. You know what happened to her?
She
killed her own dad and then she died.
And no one felt sorry for her. It was her own fault. When you mess with magic, you hurt the people you care about.”

Eva recoiled at this, shaking her head feverishly. “No,” she whispered, “No, it wasn’t my fault.”

“What wasn’t your fault?” Alice asked, but Eva pursed her lips and looked away. “Was it Penny?”

When Alice said her sister’s name, the blood drained out of Eva’s cheeks. Alice, realizing she had touched a nerve, pressed harder.

“You hurt her, didn’t you? You lied to me! It
was
magic. You were trying to do magic and she was collateral damage.”

Eva’s hand shot out so quickly that by the time Alice saw it coming, it had already made contact with her cheek. She cried out in pain, skin burning, then realized that Eva too had doubled over and was clutching her own face. Eyes wide, she straightened and looked at Alice in horror. On Eva’s left cheek, Alice saw the red outline of a hand. She touched her own cheek; her jaw ached.

“That’s not how it works,” Eva whispered. She straightened, staring at her own hand, then at Alice. “It’s supposed to protect against betrayal …”

Alice’s skin still stung; the red mark on Eva’s face was slowly fading. “Betrayal, like you attacking me? Don’t you see? This is exactly why you can’t mess with serious magic,” she said. She realized that she was being hypocritical, that she had wanted to try this just as much as Eva had, but seeing how stupid she had been only made her angrier. “You never know what a spell will do!”

Eva leaned back against the closet door. Her face had gone white. “This changes everything.”

Her shoulders slumped and she sunk down to the floor. She set the books down—she hardly seemed aware of what she was doing—and Alice dove forward.

She snatched her book and held it against her chest, stretching out her other arm to keep Eva away. Eva, realizing her mistake at once, leapt up with a cry, but stopped just before reaching Alice. Her hands were curled into fists, her eyes blazing, but she didn’t lash out. In fact, she pulled back.

“You were right. It does change everything,” Alice said without sympathy.

Eva looked at her, and her expression wasn’t angry. She looked startled.

“If you hurt me, you feel the pain too.” Alice continued. “So if you want the book, you’ll have to ask me nicely.”

“Alice,” Eva said, a little breathlessly, “Alice, you have to understand. I don’t want to steal the book. I just took it because I knew we would need it. We need every resource we can get if we want to pull this off.”

“Pull
what
off?” Alice demanded. When Eva did not answer, she added, “It’s not like I can turn around and tell anyone. I can’t backstab, remember? I’d probably strangle myself before I got the words out.”

Eva sighed and bit her lip, then said, “Alice, I honestly think it would be better if you didn’t know for now. Just … just because.”

“Because you don’t want me to chicken out?”

“No, it’s just—”

“Don’t bother,” Alice interrupted. She grabbed her backpack from the floor and threw it forcefully over her shoulder. It bumped against her back so hard that the wind was knocked out of her for a second. Recovering, she said, “I’m going home. I’m tired of being lied to.”

She took a step toward the door as Eva watched, stunned, then—she could feel her cheeks flaming—whipped back around.

“You know what? I wanted to help you! I would have been more than happy to help you if you had just
asked
. I wanted to be your friend. You don’t have to use magic to force people to be friends with you, Eva. Real friends won’t turn on you whether they’re magically bound to stick by you or not. But maybe you’ve never had any real friends.”

Still furious, Alice stood there for a moment, mouth hanging open, wishing she could rant for longer but unable to think of any other words to channel her anger into. Eva was wide-eyed and unblinking; her face was red and she looked like she’d just been slapped again.

“Alice, I’m sorry.”

“Well it’s a little late for that.” Alice turned on her heel and marched for the door; rejecting Eva’s apology gave her more satisfaction than simply yelling at her.

But just as she opened the door, ready to complete her dramatic exit, Eva called after her—

“No, please! I need your help to bring her back.”

It was the only thing that could have stopped her. In Eva’s shout, Alice heard something that she had almost given up on hearing from her: honesty. Without a word, she stopped. She didn’t turn around, but she heard Eva step closer, and when Eva spoke next, her voice was tired and desperate.

“I want to bring Penny back. I don’t have the right spell. I’m trying to write one that will work, but I don’t have the power on my own. And the longer I wait … It’ll take too long to train myself to do it on my own if that’s even possible. I need someone else. I need another witch—you.”

Alice’s heart skipped a beat; her blood, which had a moment ago been boiling with fury, went cold.

“You want me to help you bring back a dead person?” The question had crossed her mind briefly—just a wisp of a thought—if Eva might be trying to do something crazy like bring back her sister. But the idea that someone would be stupid enough to try to resurrect another person was so outrageous that Alice had dismissed it. There
was
no greater or blacker or scarier magic than bringing the dead back to life. It was something no sane person would even consider.

“Don’t call her that!” Eva cried. Alice turned around and saw that Eva had both hands pressed to her ears, as though Alice had uttered an intolerable obscenity. She lowered her hands a second later, but continued to shake her head as she said, “It’s
Penny
, Alice. She’s not just a … a
dead person
.”

“But I don’t think it’s possible,” said Alice. Even as she said it, she realized that she might very well be wrong. But from what Alice knew of magic, it operated on a principle of exchanges. In order to get something, you had to give something up. And in the case of serious magic—resurrecting the dead—she could only imagine how deep, how awful the consequences would be.

“I know I can do it,” Eva said, her voice trembling. “If you help me. Please, Alice—please. The longer I wait, the harder it will be. If we don’t try before the end of the week, I’m afraid it will be too late for her. There are rumors online about witches who have resurrected pets and smaller stuff like that, and they said that it only works if the body isn’t … isn’t, you know … too far gone. I don’t know if they’re true or not, but still. Please—” She reached out and grabbed Alice’s hand, her hazel eyes tearing up. “
Help me
. Magic saved your life. You of all people should understand.”

Alice was unprepared for this kind of plea. While just a moment before she would have slapped Eva if she could have, she now felt real pity for her. But the anger hadn’t entirely dissipated, either—the shock of having been so carefully manipulated—and she pulled her hand away.

When she answered, Alice’s voice wasn’t quite her own. It was stronger and harsher and foreign; it landed heavily on the air.

“Magic didn’t save me, Eva. Magic almost killed me.”

Eva fell back into her chair, tears rolling down her cheeks. Though she marched down the stairs in a cloud of self-justified indignation, by the time Alice had silently slipped out the front door the anger had all but faded, and all she could see was Eva’s tear-streaked face; all she could feel was this fast-growing lump in her chest and the bitter taste of guilt.

She licked her dry lips and walked out into the night.