Witch's Brew - Spellspinners 1 (Spellspinners of Melas County) (23 page)

From where I stood, I could only see three people in the water, a group of surfers way out from shore. I pulled my T-shirt over my head and stepped out of my shorts, leaving them in a pile on the beach next to my towel.

After quickly adjusting my bikini, I ran to the water and dove in headfirst. I peeked up once before diving down for good to make sure the surfers hadn’t spotted me. The last thing I needed was someone to report a possible drowning. That’s why I only disappeared under water when no one was around to worry about a missing girl.

Mom’s words spun in my head as I swam: “Warlocks are the worst thing about our world. No matter what happens, don’t forget that.”

No matter what happens?

What did that even mean?

What if Iris was right? What if the chosen boy had already come and gone, and we hadn’t detected him?

What if it was too late for me to try?

After my long swim, I plopped into a velvet chair in the corner of a dark café called the Witch’s Brew. I ran my fingers through my wet blonde hair, twisting it up into a loose bun. I pressed my fingers to my eyelids and allowed myself to disappear into my thoughts, as I searched for an answer to this most daunting of complications.

From the time I was initiated into the Melas County Coven at age thirteen, I had had one goal: to beat my enemy—my matched warlock—in the Gleaning the year I turned sixteen.

Then, when I beat that warlock, I’d jump up a level, attaining more magic when I reached Fire, then Jade, Crimson, then Indigo. Then…who knew.

It was my path. My plan. I was special, Iris was always saying, as I squirmed under the weight of her pride.
You could be the one to obtain a greater magic than any of us modern witches have ever known. You could channel the ancestors and lead us into new territory. You, Lily Rose, you.

No pressure there.

And now I needed to take on an even bigger task: identify a warlock, befriend him (somehow?) and figure out how to make peace.

Iris essentially conceded all hope of reconciliation yesterday when we’d talked on the lawn for what seemed like hours. But I knew there
had
to be a way. From the time I was little, I believed (probably because I was taught to believe) that even in the direst of situations, if you looked hard enough, you could find a hint of light. A glimmer of hope.

I wouldn’t give up. I would peer into the darkness until I found this chosen boy. Until I found a spark.

Witch’s Brew, with its dark pierced guys crawling with tattoos, was a decent place to look, simply because it was so close to the sea, and I had no other leads to go on—I certainly wasn’t going to go poking around the Academy by myself.

My mom’s apocalyptic words kept tumbling over themselves in my head:

We’re all fading. Fighting in the Gleaning isn’t enough anymore.

I thought of Daisy, my darling sister, who was so looking forward to tapping into her magic when she turned thirteen.

And Orchid. Without magic what would she be left with? Not to mention all the good we were able to do for humans: the water we cleaned in impoverished rural villages without their knowledge; the healings we did for people uninsured or unwilling to seek Western medical help; the fires we put out with our cool breath when the trucks were taking too long; the lost children we led back home.

We needed our magic. Humans unknowingly relied on it.

Sighing, I surveyed my surroundings. All around me seemingly happy teenagers chatted together in human harmony. For instance, a long-haired guy with rubber spacers in his ears was strumming a shiny black guitar in the corner, a gaggle of girls surrounding him, humming along to his part-original, part-covers music. Did they feel something similar to Iris’ roller coaster scenario when they watched him sing, when the low notes of his sexy voice vibrated in their ears? Or when he met their eyes, smiling with his own, while he sang a particularly seductive lyric?

From across the café, I could hear their whispers. “He’s so hot!” a pretty, olive-skinned girl said into her friend’s ear.

“Don’t I know it,” her friend answered.

My eyes ran down the musician’s arm. Thin, white. No significant muscle tone, no notable tattoos. (At least not on the tops of his forearms.)

I listened to him sing, tried to feel what the girls felt, to feel the sensation mom described. I closed my eyes and leaned back in my faux velvet chair. I felt the vibration through the floor; the music moved me, certainly, but the boy making it?

Nada.

Grumbling under my breath, I picked at my whole-wheat low-fat blueberry banana muffin, but my mouth tasted like metal, the crumbs rolling over my tongue like rocks. I tossed it back down into its crumbly paper holder. I didn’t want to eat anyway, didn’t want to calm down with sweet jasmine tea. I just wanted to slink down into this chair and pretend what was happening wasn’t real.

Maybe I should bend the rules and get some caffeine.

If I was going to attempt this, I had to wake the heck up.

“Hey,” the nice, pink-haired barista said. “What can I get for you?”

“Hey,” I noticed the ink rolling down his arms. A mermaid. “Nice tattoo,” I said. “Is that a mermaid?”

“A siren, actually.”

“That’s awesome. Did it hurt?”

He glanced down at it. “Nah, not really. So what can I get you?”

Oh. Right. “Can I have…what has the most caffeine?”

“The most caffeine?” He smiled. “You can get a basic espresso, or do you like milk? You can get a latte and get up to four shots.”

“Shots?”

“Of espresso.”

“Sorry,” I laughed, “I usually just order tea.”

And usually was here with Orchid. The energy in here always made me a bit nervous.

“Yeah I know,” he said. “You’re Lily, right? I’m Jonah.”

“Oh, hi. Good memory.” That was interesting. So he’d noticed me before?

And he had ink on his forearm. A siren, no less. Maybe I should see if he wanted to go down to the water later…

“I’m sorry, but have you decided?” he glanced over my shoulder, “There’s a line.”

I blushed. “Oh, sorry. Okay, well, just, how about a latte with one shot. Of espresso.”

“Got it.”

He turned around and flipped on the machine. A loud hum filled the café as the milk steamed. He poured it and when he handed it to me, there was a design on top, a little leaf.

“That’s cute.”

“Thanks. That’ll be $3.25.”

I dug into my bag, but realized in my rush to come down to the beach, I had forgotten my wallet. Oh crap. Now I was the obnoxious, no-clue-how-to-order-coffee girl. Without money.

I closed my eyes, and snapped my fingers inside my bag. A flash of light, and a handful of coins appeared in my hand.

I scooped them up and handed them to the barista.

He looked at them strangely then said, “Where are these from?”

“From?” I looked at the coins. The clearly foreign coins.

Jacked-up magic: 1.

Lily: 0.

“Sorry, sorry,” I dumped them back into my bag. “I must have something in here somewhere.”

He grinned. “Don’t worry about it. It’s on me.”

“I’ll pay you back next time.”

“Okay,” he said. “Hey, how about tonight? Do you have plans?”

“Um, no.”

“A bunch of us are having a bonfire on the beach, bringing our music. Want to come?”

The beach. At night.

Optimal swimming atmosphere.

Optimal
Breathing
atmosphere.

I thanked him, bashfully, and while I was getting details for tonight’s bonfire (shockingly I hadn’t frightened him off), the chimes on the front door rang, echoing in my ears ten times louder than they would a human’s. As I stood, a hot surge of energy crept from the base of my tailbone up through my spine, landing with a shock to my brain, when I saw the boy in the doorway.

Dark tousled hair grazed his broad shoulders; he wore a black hoodie and baggy sweatpants, sunglasses over his eyes.

When he walked through the door, he pushed his glasses up onto his head, and suddenly shivers rushed over my skin like the temperature had dropped 30 degrees. He scanned the room, and when his eyes caught mine, another sharp jolt shot through my body like he’d crashed into me with a million volts.

His eyes. They were so blue. Preternaturally blue. I’d never seen a color like that. Ever. Now shooting bright effervescence through this dim café, straight into me.

The boy blinked in my direction, cocking his head to the right, eyebrows arched, as if he was as confused by the image of me as I was of him. I’m sure I was a strange sight, too, this girl staring and possibly trembling from a temperature change only she was experiencing.

I tried to move but was frozen in place, his eyes trapping me in some sort of a force field. He blinked, and the hard lines of his jaw clenched, as if he’d been doing something wrong, and I’d caught him. After what seemed like minutes, he ripped his eyes off mine and that’s exactly what it felt like—a literal rip. My eyes stung and I felt another jolt, this time sharper, as he glanced at his friend. In the absence of his gaze, I was momentarily blinded, as if I’d just been staring into the sun.

The friend mumbled something to him, and the boy stuffed his sunglasses into his hoodie pocket. He pulled his hood up over his head like a turtle retreating into its shell.

I stayed frozen in place, staring, as the electric-eyed guy sauntered up to the counter.

Since I had no friend with me to do so, I gave myself an emergency pep talk.

You’re a witch. A powerful, impeccably trained sorceress. You can’t handle seeing a hot guy?

But my instincts told me this was no ordinary hot guy. Like Mom had prophesized, right away I knew.

This was a warlock. And something inside of me recognized him. But from where?

“Here’s your drink,” Jonah said, drawing me back to reality. His nose wrinkled under his round-rimmed glasses as he glanced down the bar at what was distracting me. “Oh. Those guys.”

“You know them?” I asked quietly. Could he feel the energy too? I glanced at the clique of girls I’d been observing before, but they were still flirting with the guitar player.

“They are infrequent yet memorable customers,” Jonah answered.

“How so?”

“They hardly ever come around, but when they do, they pay in huge bills.”

“Well, you do spin a pretty rad double.”

Where did that come from? The first time I ordered a latte was today.

“Didn’t you order a single?”

“Yeah, it’s just…an expression.”

And since when did I use the term ‘rad’? And ‘spin’? That was a technical term reserved for the Spellspinners of Melas County alone.
Get a grip, Lil.

But instead of growing suspicious, Jonah laughed, like my comment surprised him, too. After many instances of ordering herbal tea, I guess it was no shock he’d be surprised. “No, it’s weird. It’s like they don’t understand money,” he continued. “Their tips are way too big, for instance, and since they’re kind of jerks, I doubt they’re thanking my exceptional service. Plus, their eyes are a little…darty. At the risk of sounding like a tool, they kind of creep me out.”

I eyed his cotton candy hair and his punk rock style. “You should talk, Jonah—tongue ring, ink galore and
they
freak
you
out?” I was attempting a joke, but in the altered atmosphere, it didn’t quite land. The hot guy was now perched on the barstool to my left, his sea-storm eyes peeking up at me through a tangle of wet black hair.

Shivers rushed over my skin, and my heart raced so fast, I thought I might pass out.

Jonah’s voice sounded far away when he asked in a terse voice, “Can I help you?”

I felt the guy’s sidelong glance burn into my skin as he tapped on the blue mosaic moons with his right fingertip. I smelled salt on his body…and euca leaves. The combination of the two? Exhilarating was an understatement.

He continued to tap on the glass tiles. Moon, moon, moon. I noticed he wasn’t tapping on the stars, one of the iconic symbols denoting the male half of Spellspinners. “I’ll have a…” He continued tapping the tiles as he scanned the handwritten chalk menu, I felt his heartbeat, his tension.

His
everything
.

At the sound of his voice, my stomach clenched, as if I were peering down from the crest of a roller coaster.

“I don’t do well with so many choices. Why don’t you give me…what she’s having?”

To avoid the effect his eyes had on mine, I stared into my mug so hard it simmered, and then started to boil. Steam billowed in my face. I quickly covered it with a pile of napkins.

“A double latte, I think.” I said, frantically running a cooling spell in my head.

“Apparently, a very hot double latte,” he eyed the mug sardonically, as coffee soaked through the napkins. “I was hoping you’d say a triple espresso, but I’ll take it.”

Those eyes. Damn.

I about fell off my barstool. My stomach lurched, as if I were flying down the coaster, full speed ahead, nothing to cling to but the trust that the old metal bar across my hips would hold tight.

I closed my eyes, and a cloudy vision swooped into my head.

Me up on Black Mountain, sleeping on a rock, a hawk flying above me.

And…a boy.

A raven-haired boy with electric blue eyes staring down at me.

What?

I jerked back with a start, the ride ending abruptly.

“Have we…met somewhere before?” I asked.

He shook his head slowly, “Yours isn’t a face a guy forgets.”

My hands grew wings and flew to my burning cheeks.

Pull it together, Lily. Focus.

Hackles rose as I surveyed the exits like I’d been trained to do. Front door. Was my path to it clear? I noted tall windows in the front, observed in my mind’s eye the dank window covered in black paper in the back.

I glanced at his dark-skinned friend who was pretending to be absorbed in the guitar player’s rockabilly song, but his body was tense—a tiger ready to pounce.

My elation from before was replaced by trepidation.

I was alone.

I was one.

They were two.

Was this a trap?