Spellcaster

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Works

  Credits

  Copyright

  Back Ads

  About the Publisher

  1

  BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE, NADIA FELT THE CHILL.

  She wasn’t sure why. Her father already had the car’s heat on because of the awful weather. Her little brother, Cole, was too engrossed in his game to have rolled down any of the windows. The only sounds were the slap-slap of the windshield wipers, Cole’s thumbs tapping on the tablet screen, and Dad’s classical music—some piano concerto, notes rippling and rolling over them, not unlike the driving rain outside. It was just like the other countless hours they’d spent in this car today.

  There was no reason for the trembling cold that snaked its way along Nadia’s skin. No reason for her head to swim as all her senses heightened.

  No normal reason anyway.

  Nadia straightened in her seat—in the back, next to her brother. The passenger seat in the front was always left empty, as if Mom might suddenly return at the next rest stop. “Dad, where are we?”

  “Almost there.”

  “You said that three states ago,” Cole chimed in, never looking up from his game.

  “I mean it this time,” Dad insisted. “We should get into town any minute now. So hang in there, guys.”

  “I just mean—my head hurts.” Honestly explaining what was wrong was out of the question. Nadia already knew that the strange sensations washing over her weren’t physical or emotional.

  They were signs of magic.

  Dad turned the piano music down to a soft wash. “You okay, sweetheart? There’s painkillers in the first-aid kit; we could pull over.”

  “I’m fine,” Nadia said. “If we’re almost there, let’s not stop now.”

  Even as she spoke, though, she felt as if she had made a mistake—as if she ought to have said, Yes, pull over, let’s get out of this car as soon as possible. Everything within her told her that they were traveling closer and closer to a source of magic—unlike any she had known before. But instinct alone told Nadia this magic was … primal. Powerful. Potentially overwhelming.

  Her eyes flickered over to the empty seat next to her father. Mom would have known what to do—

  Well, Mom’s not here, Nadia told herself savagely. She’s still back in Chicago, probably off drinking cocktails with some guy she just met. I’ll never finish my training. I’ll never be able to use magic the way she did.

  But we’re headed into something dangerous. I have to do something.

  But what?

  Nadia glanced sideways at Cole, who remained wrapped up in his game. Like her father, he was oblivious to the forces they were approaching; like all males, they were magic-blind. Quickly she closed her eyes and settled her left wrist in her right hand. On her left wrist she wore what Dad called her charm bracelet—and it did look like one, at a glance.

  Even after Mom had left, ruining their lives and all Nadia’s hopes, Nadia had kept wearing the bracelet every day. It was too hard to let it go.

  Her fingers found the small pendant of ivory, the material she needed to balance her spell.

  Silently, she went through the spell for illumination of magical shape. The ingredients came back to her faster than she would have thought.

  A winter sunrise.

  The pain of abandonment.

  The knowledge of love.

  She went deep within herself, calling up the ingredients, experiencing each more powerfully than real memory—as if she were living them again—

  The sun rising on a sharp, cold morning when the snow was high enough to sink into knee-deep, painting the sky a pale pink, while Nadia shivered on the balcony.

  Nadia standing dumbfounded in the door of her parents’ bedroom as Mom packed a suitcase and said, “Your father and I think we should live apart for a while.”

  Waking up in a violent thunderstorm to find Cole curled next to her wearing his footie pajamas, in silent, total confidence that his big sister could protect him.

  The emotions and images coursed through her, reverberating through her powers, bouncing off the ivory until Nadia could see—a barrier. They were headed straight toward … what was this? … Was it meant to keep out any other forms of magic, or warn someone else if magic entered this space?

  Nadia’s eyes widened. She’d be able to pass through the barrier—limits on magic didn’t apply to magic users—but that wasn’t her biggest problem.

  Oh, no, she thought. The car.

  In the trunk, in her suitcase, wrapped in her clothes, was her Book of Shadows.

  “Dad?” Her voice was tight and high with fear as they came closer to the barrier; she could almost feel it now, like static electricity against her skin. “Dad, can we pull over?”

  He’d been too lost in his own thoughts to hear her. “What’s that, sweetheart?”

  And then—impact.

  The road seemed to jerk beneath the wheels of the car, as if the earth were being sheared away beneath them. Nadia slammed into the window as her father struggled for control of the wheel—in vain. She could hear the squeal of brakes and Cole’s scream as the world turned over, over again, thrashing her in every direction at once. Something hit her head, and then she couldn’t quite see, couldn’t quite hear. Yet Cole was still screaming—or was it her? She didn’t know anymore—

  They crashed to a halt, the impact throwing her forward and backward so hard that her seat belt felt like a club smashing into her chest.

  She slammed back into reality, and wished she hadn’t.

  Nadia cried out as the window beside her—now beneath her—splintered, and mud and water began oozing in. Above her, Cole half dangled from his booster seat, wailing in panic. She reached up with a shaky hand to touch him, comfort him, make sure he wasn’t injured. But her head was still reeling.

  The Book of Shadows—it hit that barrier, and it was like—like an explosion or something—

  “Cole! Nadia!” The inside of the car was almost entirely dark now that the lights were as dead as the engine, but she could make out the shadow of her father trying to clamber into the backseat with them. “Are you all right?”

  “We’re okay,” Nadia managed to gasp.

  “The water—”

  “I see it!” Already the muck was rising—or was the car sinking? Nadia couldn’t tell.

  Dad stopped trying to get in the back with them; instead he managed to push open the passenger-side front door and climb out of the car. For one moment, Nadia felt crazy terror stab her—he’s left us, where’s Dad, where’s Dad?—but then Cole’s door opened and Dad reached inside to pull her little brother free.

  “Daddy!” Cole wailed as he clamped his arms around their father’s neck. Raindrops fell into the car now, hard and stinging. Nadia managed to undo the straps of his safety seat, so Dad could lift him.

  “That’s right. Daddy’s here. Nadia, I’m going to get Cole out of this ditch and come right back for you. Right back! Hang on!”

  Nadia nodded, too quickly, because her whiplash-stu
ng neck ached. She clawed at her seat belt, freeing herself just as the water rose high enough to wash over one of her legs. The seat belt had been keeping her out of the mud, and she tumbled into it. It was cold—so cold the mere touch of it numbed her to the bone. A long scrape along her forearm stung tears into her eyes. She was clumsy now, and even more afraid than before. But it didn’t matter as long as she could still climb out.

  She braced her feet against the armrest and tried to stand; she was dizzy, but she could do it. Where was her father? Was he all right?

  Lightning flashed. In the blaze of that sudden light, Nadia glimpsed someone above her.

  He was her age, perhaps. Dark hair, dark eyes, though she could tell nothing else in the night and the rain. But in that flash of lightning, she’d already seen that he was beautiful—so much that she wondered if the crash had dazed her into seeing phantoms, delusions, angels. Thunder rolled.

  “Take my hand!” he shouted, reaching into the wreck.

  Nadia grabbed his hand. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, and they felt like the only warmth in the world. She let him tow her upward, helping him by climbing as best she could. Rain spattered against her face and hands as she emerged from the wreckage, and her rescuer slung one arm around her waist to pull her away from the car, onto the nearby bank of the ditch they’d crashed into.

  As they flopped onto the muddy ground, lightning crashed again, painting his face in eerie blue. He must have seen her more clearly, too, because he whispered, “Oh, my God. It’s you.”

  She drew in a sharp breath. This guy knew her?

  How could he know her when she didn’t know him?

  Next to them were Dad and Cole. “Thank you,” her father breathed, clutching one side as if in pain; Nadia only then realized he’d been injured.

  “Dad! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he said, though his whole body was stiff with pain. “I was able to call 911 while our new friend—what’s your name?”

  “Mateo.”

  Nadia turned back to him, but Mateo was already looking away from her, as if unwilling to meet her eyes. He, too, was gasping for breath; the rescue couldn’t have been much less frightening for him than the crash had been for her.

  But how could he know her? Did he know her? Was she imagining things in the aftermath of the wreck?

  “While Mateo helped you. We’ll—we’ll be all right.”

  “What happened?” Cole sniffled. He clung to his father as if afraid he might fall in the ditch again.

  Nadia scooted closer to them so she could take her little brother’s hand. “It’s okay, buddy. We’re okay. We had a wreck, that’s all.”

  “Sometimes cars hydroplane during a storm.” Dad breathed in and out through his nose, hand still braced against his ribs. “That means the tires are actually on the water instead of the road. It can be dangerous. I really thought—I thought we were going slow enough to avoid that—”

  “You weren’t doing anything wrong.” Nadia wished she could have told her father not to blame himself, but he could never understand what had just happened to them, or why.

  She turned back to see her mysterious rescuer—Mateo—but he was gone. Peering through the rain and gloom, Nadia tried to make out where he might be. He couldn’t have gotten far. But she couldn’t find him; it was as if he’d vanished.

  Her father, distracted with pain and Cole’s fear, didn’t seem to notice that Mateo had left. “We’re okay,” he kept repeating, rocking her little brother back and forth. “We’re all okay, and nothing else matters.”

  In the distance, sirens wailed, and she could make out the beat of red-blue lights from a far-off police car or ambulance. Help was on the way, yet Nadia shivered from the cold and the adrenaline and the pent-up fear.

  She glanced upward to see that they’d damaged a sign in the wreck. Leaning to one side, rocking back and forth in the wind of the storm, was a placard emblazoned with the words WELCOME TO CAPTIVE’S SOUND.

  She’s real.

  Mateo stood in the woods, his back to a tree, as he watched the police see to the family he’d just helped. An ambulance had pulled up for the father, but there didn’t seem to be any particular rush for them to get to the hospital. Nobody was hurt too badly. Good.

  Despite the darkness, he could see the girl sitting in the backseat of the police car. A pale blanket had been wrapped around her shoulders. It helped to think of her warm and safe.

  Lightning streaked through the sky overhead again, and Mateo remembered dimly that standing next to a large tree was probably not the smartest thing he could be doing right now. But shock had numbed him past the ability to move.

  Besides—he knew he wouldn’t be killed by lightning tonight.

  He knew.

  All day, he’d tried to ignore the dream he’d had. He’d told himself that it was a nightmare like any other—the vision of the storm, the crash, the beautiful girl trapped in the wreckage. But when the sun had set and the rain had come, Mateo had been unable to ignore the dream any longer.

  He’d come out here in the hopes of proving to himself that it wasn’t true. For hours, he’d stood in the rain, watching and waiting, pissed off at himself for even believing this was possible, yet more hopeful as time ticked on and nothing happened.

  And then—right when he’d begun to believe it really was only a dream—everything had happened just as he’d known it would.

  She’s real, he thought. If the crash happened like I saw it would, then so will everything else I’ve seen.

  Shaky and cold with horror, Mateo closed his eyes against the realization that he was doomed.

  And if the girl from his dreams didn’t stay far away from him—she’d be doomed, too.

  2

  DESPITE WHIPLASH AND THE BANDAGES ON HER SORE arm, Nadia got to work unpacking right away. Dad couldn’t manage much with his ribs broken, Cole was way too young to help with anything besides putting away his toys, and besides—there were certain items she wanted to be positive nobody else saw.

  Like, say, her witchcraft supplies.

  I could come up with an explanation for the glass jars, like, they were for makeup or something, Nadia mused as she unwrapped them from wads of newspaper. But the powdered bone? Forget it. Dad would probably think I was on drugs.

  It felt stupid to have kept everything. Without Mom, there was no hope of continuing her training; witchcraft was a closely held secret, passed down between female relatives in the rare bloodlines that had the power. Mom had never revealed the other members of her coven to Nadia—which was just how things were. Nadia wouldn’t have expected to learn any of their names until she was a true witch herself and able to join the coven in her own right.

  Still, she’d thought one of them might reveal herself after the divorce—come forward and offer to teach Nadia, or at least give some advice—

  But nothing. Mom probably hadn’t even told them that she’d abandoned her own daughter half-trained, with only enough knowledge to get herself in trouble, not nearly enough to solve any of her problems.

  No matter how good a student she’d been, no matter how hard she’d worked her whole life—Nadia would never get to become a witch now. Mom had taken that with her, too.

  Even as her throat tightened with unshed tears, Nadia tried to snap herself out of it. You know enough to do some things. It’s still useful, right?

  Useful enough to get us in a car crash. If I’d faced facts and ditched my Book of Shadows—

  But no. She could never do that. A Book of Shadows—even one as new as hers—had power. You couldn’t leave that lying around. And she didn’t have the heart to destroy it.

  Despite everything, Nadia didn’t have the heart to walk away from the Craft yet.

  As she thought of the wreck, the images of that night swept over her so vividly that it was like she was back there in that ditch. The way the storm had crashed and rolled overhead. The terror of feeling herself sliding down into the cold muck, not k
nowing whether she could escape.

  And Mateo’s face, outlined by lightning, as he reached in to save her—

  Nadia’s breath caught in her throat. Who was he? And how had he known her?

  But that wasn’t the biggest mystery of that night, and Nadia knew it. The biggest mystery was—who had put up that magical barrier around Captive’s Sound?

  And why?

  “Make a Mickey Mouse one!”

  Nadia poured the pancake batter into three circles, two small ones for the ears and a big one for Mickey’s face. “No whipped cream for the smile today, buddy, but you’re going to eat him too fast for that, anyway, aren’t you?”

  “Definitely.” Cole walked to the kitchen table with his glass of milk—way too full, Nadia saw, but he didn’t spill any.

  “What’s this?” Dad came into the kitchen of their new house; he was moving easily now, without pain, but the stark white of his bandages still showed through his dress shirt. “I was going to make you guys breakfast. To celebrate the big day.”

  “Nobody celebrates the first day of school,” Cole said as he took his seat, tiny sneakered feet now dangling above the wood floor. He was in such a good mood—so confident and easygoing—and Nadia and her father exchanged a look. Cole was finally doing better; maybe the fresh start was working precisely like they’d hoped.

  “Making breakfast is no big deal,” Nadia said. “Anyway, I’m a better cook than you, and you know it.”

  Dad nodded, acknowledging this, as he took his seat. “But how else am I going to learn?”

  Cooking wasn’t a chore for her; it was a hobby, even a passion. She’d filled some of the hours that had once gone to her witchcraft lessons with studying cookbooks and experimenting. Still—one way or the other, she wouldn’t be at home full-time after graduation, so maybe she ought to teach him a few things, just to make sure they wouldn’t starve. “I’ll give you lessons. Wait and see.”

  Although Dad looked like he wanted to protest, he’d also caught sight of the bacon she’d put on the table. Distraction provided; discussion over.

  The kitchen in their new house was one of the few things about it Nadia didn’t like. In their Chicago condominium, they’d had the best and brightest appliances her father’s big law-firm salary could buy, and oceans of counter space. Here, everything was old-fashioned and a little shabby. But what she disliked in the kitchen was precisely what made the rest of the house so awesome. It was an old Victorian, two stories not counting the large attic she’d claimed as her private space—the perfect hiding place for her Book of Shadows and the supplies for her magic. She’d expected Cole to pitch a fit, but he was so thrilled by having a real, true backyard of his own that he showed no signs of coming indoors of his own free will ever again. The oaken plank floors creaked comfortingly, and a stained-glass window let cranberry-tinted light into the stairwell. If it was all slightly run-down, it was also beautiful—and as big a change from their high-rise condo as she could imagine.