A Circle of Ashes Read online

  “Yes. Weirder than that,” I said, suddenly feeling tired. “Nan hasn’t come back yet. And as it turns out, God’s gift actually belongs to a coven that Nan used to belong to. He’s a witch.”

  “Wow.” Racey whistled. “Good riddance.”

  “Yes,” I said, my throat feeling tight. “On top of all this, the fun just keeps coming. Both Thais and I have had, like, near-death experiences.” I filled Racey in on Thais’s nightmare with the snake, the almost stabbing that Racey had witnessed, the streetcar accident, the wasps.

  “So we want to do a spell to show us who’s behind all this,” I went on. “I mean, I’m not thrilled staying in that house alone, and Thais is still living with Axelle, and Nan’s not back yet.”

  “You should both come stay here,” Racey said, frowning. “Jeez. Why didn’t you come here last night?”

  “I stayed up late, trying to work Nan’s cupboard spell, and then it was too late,” I said.

  Racey smacked my knee. “Frickin’ idiot. It’s never too late, you know that. Tell me you’re coming here tonight.”

  “I might,” I said. “If nothing’s better by then. In the meantime, let’s see if this thing works.”

  The three of us formed a triangle, sitting inside the circle. I picked up the four stones of protection. “One stone for us, one stone for the problem, one stone for the past, and one stone for the future,” I said, putting them in a square around us.

  “Do you have an element?” Thais asked Racey.

  “Yeah, of course,” Racey said, surprised. She tugged on the chain of her necklace and showed Thais the large moonstone pendant she wore. “Earth. I use a crystal to represent it. Also, you know, it’s pretty and sets off my tan.”

  I lit the candle in the center for me and Thais.

  Then we all held hands, and I read the spell, translating for Thais’s benefit. It was much prettier in French, and I always like it when things rhyme. But oh, well.

  We walk in sunlight

  Shadows follow us.

  We are facing fire

  We are standing beneath stone

  We are underwater

  A storm is coming toward us.

  With these words reveal the signature

  Give the shadow a face, a name.

  Show us who kindles fire against us

  Who holds a stone over us

  Who pulls us underwater

  Who conjures a storm to destroy us.

  Then I focused on the candle and started to sing my own personal power song, which sort of had words and sort of didn’t. Its sounds had their basis in ancient words, but though the power was still there, the words themselves had leached away, leaving pure sound, pure magick.

  After a minute, Racey started twining her song in and around mine, under and over and through. We looked up at each other and smiled. We’d done this too many times to count, yet each time it was fresh and new and exciting.

  I didn’t expect Thais to say anything—there was no way for her to know her personal song yet. It was something that developed over a period of years as you studied magick. But then a third voice joined in. I looked at Thais in surprise and saw that she was singing softly, watching the candle. I didn’t recognize the form of her song, but it sounded real, not like gibberish. Racey and I exchanged glances, and then we all looked at the candle and sang.

  Two voices singing are balanced, one against the other, and they can make a pure and beautiful magick. But somehow Thais’s voice centered us, the way a three-legged stool is more stable than a two-legged ladder. And while Thais’s speaking voice was incredibly similar to mine, our singing voices were different. Hers was more ethereal somehow. To my ears, mine sounded sharper and stronger, and hers was smoother and more flowy.

  This was pretty much the most ambitious spell I’d ever tried without a teacher, and I had no idea what to expect. Our three voices raised and fell and joined and separated, and Thais’s voice became stronger and more sure. I felt the magick rising in and around us, felt our combined energy swell. It was really beautiful, and happiness rose in me.

  And that was when we got blown across the room.

  What’s Going On

  Petra saw Richard even before she parked the car. He was leaning against the iron gate, looking up at her house. Were his lips moving? She couldn’t tell. With a deep, exhausted sigh she got out of her car, then pulled her suitcase out of the back. If he felt her coming, he didn’t show it.

  “Hello, Riche,” she said, and he turned to look at her.

  “Honey, you’re home,” he said. “At last. You’ve missed some excitement.”

  Her gaze sharpened as she opened the gate, muttering a nulling spell so Richard could follow her in. That is, if Clio had kept up the layers of protection. “What kind of excitement?” she asked, starting up the steps.

  Richard took the suitcase out of her hand and carried it up for her. He was wiry but surprisingly strong, Petra knew.

  Inside the house Petra cast her senses but didn’t feel Clio. She turned to face Richard. “What kind of excitement?” she asked again. “Where’s Clio?”

  He shrugged. “If she’s not here, I don’t know. Nothing’s happened to her that I’ve heard of. I mean, except the Treize.”

  “What about the Treize?” Petra said, feeling her nerves quicken.

  “How about some tea?” Richard said. “Iced, if you have it. And for God’s sake, turn on the air.”

  Petra stepped closer to him and looked up into his brown eyes, the color of coffee with a tiny bit of milk. “Tell me what I want to know and cut the crap,” she said quietly.

  He laughed. “Or you’ll what, turn me into a frog?” He shook his head. “As far as I know, both girls are fine. But while you were gone, they confronted Axelle, and she called a meeting, and everyone showed, except for monk boy and slut girl, and they basically told the twins everything.”

  Petra felt a weight settle on her chest. She turned from Richard and walked back to the kitchen, where she opened the window and the back door and turned on the ceiling fan. The kitchen was messy, with unwashed dishes and glasses on the counters, the trash bag overfull, a rotten banana playing host to a happy horde of fruit flies. Yet Petra could detect the faint signature of Clio’s presence, feel her vibrations lingering in the air. She had been here recently, like this morning. She was a slob, but alive.

  Richard sat in one of the kitchen chairs, and Q-Tip ran into the room. Petra saw that his dish had food in it and his water was full. She stooped to pet him, trying to gather her thoughts.

  Damn it. Her errand had taken longer than she’d thought, but she’d still hoped that the Treize hadn’t moved on the twins yet. She’d wanted to be the one who told them. Well, too late now. She stood and poured iced tea for herself and Richard, then sat down opposite him.

  “Okay,” she said. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  He drank his tea, then shrugged. “Just what I told you. The Treize—”

  “You included?”

  “Hell, yeah. You think I’d miss that freak show? Yeah, so the Treize gathered and they dumped our sordid past in the twins’ pretty laps, and then we had a circle.”

  Petra tried to hide the dismayed look in her eyes, with no success.

  “A circle?”

  Richard nodded and drank more tea. Q-Tip jumped up on his lap, and Richard petted him. “Yeah. It was very exciting. Your Thais—elle a mordu admirablement au magie. Like a duck to water.”

  Petra felt Richard’s eyes on her. She loved Richard—she’d always loved him. It had pained her when he’d so obviously wanted Cerise. Cerise had rebuffed him, laughed and called him a little boy. Petra had seen Richard’s hurt and been sorry for it. And Marcel had looked daggers at him.

  Then Cerise had died. Marcel had broken down, had been so publicly full of grief. But Richard had kept it all inside. He’d overlain his boyish demeanor with a grown-up’s cynicism and coldness.

  Now, looking at him, his handsome adolescent face th
at would never achieve its full beauty in adulthood, she felt pangs of sorrow again, for the first time in years. Having the twins know about her past, having the Treize gathering again… It was all bringing up so many memories—memories that she’d hoped would stay buried.

  “I’m sorry—” she began, then stopped, startled by the admission.

  Richard raised one sardonic eyebrow at her.

  Petra swallowed. “I’m sorry Cerise turned you down,” she said. “You would have been a good match in a few years. I preferred you to Marcel. But he had done so much—”

  She’d never before addressed him so directly about Cerise. Everything they’d both felt had been kept to themselves all this time. Why rub salt in the wound? And now, looking at the ice that crackled in Richard’s eyes, she wished she’d kept silent.

  Q-Tip jumped down and ran out the back door, as if the room’s tension were too much for him. Petra leaned her head on her hand, looking down at the wooden grain of the kitchen table.

  After a long pause, Richard shifted in his chair. “The Treize told Thais and Clio about the Source, the rite, Melita. They’ll have a lot of questions for you, I imagine.” His voice sounded distant, impersonal. “Also, it appears that Luc’s own personal brand of magick is still going strong.”

  “What?”

  Richard shrugged. “It came out that both girls are incredibly pissed at him, and the tension between the three of them would stop a train.”

  “Damn it,” said Petra. “That fast? Both of them? I’ll have to have a talk with Luc, then.” Her lips thinned as she thought about how that conversation would go. She let out her breath, wishing she could lie down and sleep for a year. “I’d hoped for more time,” she said. “It’s all starting much too soon, too fast. Everything I’ve been dreading for so long.”

  “So you dread it then, do you?” Richard asked.

  Petra looked up quickly. Richard had been hanging out with Daedalus and Jules, presumably to help them, for whatever reason. It was very possible he was here today to get an idea of exactly where Petra stood.

  She spoke carefully. “Richard—I’ve been protecting the twins for seventeen years. Whatever Daedalus thinks might happen with the rite, whatever the rest of us could do with it or would want it for—we’re still not sure. No one can be positive about its effects. Whether doing it is inevitable or not, yes, there are times when I absolutely dread finding out.”

  He nodded calmly, looking at her, then finished his tea and stood up. “I hear you. I think it’s halfbaked myself. But it’s fun to watch the old boy run around.”

  Petra followed him to the front door. He opened it and stepped through, then turned to look back at her.

  “Cerise didn’t turn me down,” he said quietly. Then he was down the front steps and gone before Petra could find her voice.

  I lay on the floor next to the cabinet. The left side of my face felt like it had gotten hit with a baseball bat. Trying not to groan, I eased myself to a sitting position. It had happened again. I felt horrible—shaky and scared, like I’d been zapped by lightning or stuck my finger in a light socket. Gingerly I touched my cheek and pain shot into my skull. I’d hit myself even harder this time, since the garden shed/workroom was smaller than Clio’s workroom. Less room for me to get thrown.

  “Are you guys okay?” I asked, looking over at them.

  Racey was lying on her back in the corner, muttering curses.

  “Holy mother!” Clio said. “What is happening to us?”

  Just then the shed door was flung open and Mrs. Copeland was there, her eyes wide.

  “What happened?” she cried, hurrying to Racey. “What are y’all doing out here?”

  Racey’s sister Ceci rushed in next. After a quick glance around, she said, “Race, what did I tell you about conjuring demons?”

  “Very funny,” Clio muttered, rubbing her shoulder.

  “What were you doing?” Mrs. Copeland said again, her arm around Racey. Her long black braid swung over one shoulder. She looked barely older than her daughters.

  Racey shook her head, wincing. “Just a normal spell.”

  “A réléver la griffe,” Clio explained.

  Mrs. Copeland frowned. “To see other spells? And what happened?”

  “I don’t know,” Clio said slowly, looking at me. Instinctively I felt that she didn’t want me to mention the twin-magick thing. “I was following the form, right from Nan’s book. We were singing, just normal stuff, stuff we’ve done before, and then kablooey.”

  I felt Mrs. Copeland looking at me.

  “Are you trained in magick?” she asked gently.

  My face burned. Was this all my fault because I didn’t know what I was doing? She left Racey and came over to turn my face carefully to the light. “You need ice on this,” she said, looking concerned. “All of you need arnica. Ceci, go put the kettle on. I’ll make some tea.”

  Standing up, she looked around the room, at the circle that had all but disappeared. “What was this?” she asked, pointing to a small black pile of gray dust.

  “Uh, jet,” Clio said. “I’ll get you a new one. Sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter, sweetie. But you guys, do not repeat that spell unless Petra can be with you, okay?”

  “Don’t worry,” I muttered. Right then I never wanted to do magick again.

  We were all so upset that after Mrs. Copeland patched us up, we were forced to go to Botanika and have cheesecake and iced mocha frappés.

  “It’s either this or go buy shoes,” Clio said, stirring her drink glumly.

  Racey nodded. “I have to say, that totally sucked. But at least I don’t have a shiner.”

  I made a face. Though Racey’s mom had given me stuff to help with the pain and swelling, I still had a black eye. She’d given me arnica to take home with me and said it would help clear it up really fast, but still, I had a sort of bar-fight look going on that I hated.

  “This has to be my fault,” I said, stirring my drink.” This never happened to either of you before I came along. I think… maybe my magick is just off somehow. Or it just doesn’t work right.”

  “That’s a possibility,” Racey said thoughtfully. “Tell me, are you a spawn of Satan? That would explain it.”

  I looked at her in horror, and Racey said, “Ouch!” when Clio kicked her under the table.

  “Don’t tease her,” Clio said, then turned to me. “Our religion doesn’t even believe in Satan or the devil or anything like that. There’s nothing wrong with you. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure there’s an explanation. If only Nan—”

  I nodded. If only Petra would come home.

  The brass bells tied to Botanika’s door jingled, and I saw my friend Sylvie Allen come in. She was the first person who’d been nice to me when I started school here, and we were in the same homeroom and several classes together. She was with her boyfriend and another guy.

  “Hey!” I said, waving, happy to see her. She was so normal. Not a witch. Not immortal. It was a relief.

  “Thais!” Sylvie came over, concern on her face. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “Oh,” I said, remembering my black eye. “I ran into a door.”

  Sylvie just looked at me, then at Clio and Racey.

  “She really did run into a door,” Clio said.

  “Hmm,” said Sylvie. “Well. Anyway—are you guys doing something? Do you want to come sit with us?”

  Suddenly I desperately wanted to go sit with them and pretend to be a normal high schooler. Stop worrying that every person I saw on the street was a potential threat, every step I took just bringing me toward a new danger. I glanced at Clio and Racey. Clio gave me a little nod.

  “It’s cool,” she said. “I’ll call you if I go to Ouida’s, okay? But Racey and I can hang.”

  “Okay, great,” I said, picking up my drink and cheesecake.

  “Later,” said Clio.

  I grabbed a new table by the window while Sylvie, Claude, and the other
guy went and ordered. A minute later they came back with their coffees.

  “Oh, Thais, this is Kevin,” Sylvie said. “Kevin LaTour. He goes to L’École too.”

  I smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I think I’ve seen you there.”

  “I know I’ve seen you there,” said Kevin, smiling back. I blinked, realizing what he meant at the same time I realized he was pretty cute. He had a great, warm smile—bright against his dark skin. His eyes were a clear, olive green, and his black hair was twisted into little spikes all over his head.

  “I loved having today off,” said Sylvie. “School would be so much better if we always had three-day weeks.”

  “Hear, hear,” said Claude, emptying a sugar packet into his coffee.

  Just then Racey and Clio stopped by our table. “We’re taking off,” said Clio. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “Okay. And tell your mom thanks,” I said to Racey. She nodded, and they left.

  “Racey’s mom patched me up my eye,” I explained. “It happened at her house.”

  “Does it still hurt?” Sylvie asked.

  “Not too much. Just looks stupid.”

  “Not too stupid,” said Kevin. “How are you liking school here? You’re from up north, right?”

  “Connecticut,” I said. “Um, I like school here okay. You know, it’s school.”

  Sylvie nodded. “At least we only have eight more months. Yay.”

  “Then we get to do it all over again for four more years,” Kevin said.

  I made a face and laughed, and he laughed too. He was actually really, really cute. Of course, cute didn’t even begin to sum up Luc’s attraction, but still. The fact that I could even distinguish that about Kevin seemed healthy somehow. Good for me.

  “Hey, we were thinking of hitting a matinee and then maybe going to Camellia Grill for a hamburger,” Sylvie said. “You want to come with?”

  I thought for just a second. Axelle almost never told me where she was going or when she’d be back, and I almost never told her anymore. The idea of being a free agent, just taking off and doing something like this without having to let anyone know, seemed great.