Moon Magic Read online

  Anya waves from a booth near the door when I enter. Her smile is broad and genuine. She already has a tray of food in front of her, along with another in the empty space to her right. Elliot is nowhere in sight. Although I’m not really hungry, I join the long line of patrons waiting to place their order at the counter. I hope by the time I make it to the table, Elliot will be back from wherever he’s gone. I scan the menu board hanging behind the counter without much interest and select the first thing that looks relatively appealing. As I wait for my turn with the cashier, I survey the restaurant. The walls are painted cheery colors—oranges and yellows with a richness added that keeps them from being too bright. The walls are lined with mass-produced paintings that are supposed to look unique. The effect is supposed to be cozy, but it misses the mark, instead feeling clinical and sterile—too perfectly designed by some corporation to be real.

  I place my order and move down to the end of the counter to wait for it. A quick glance in my sister’s direction tells me Elliot still has not made his way back to the table. By the time my order is ready, Anya is still alone. I steel myself as I walk toward her.

  “Isn’t this place great?” Anya asks as I sit. “The food here is so good.”

  I nod noncommittally and heft a spoonful of soup to my mouth. It’s far too hot and my eyes tear as I attempt to swallow it. “Yeah, great,” I manage, reaching for my drink. “Where’s Elliot?”

  “He said he had to make a phone call. He should be back any second.”

  This news piques my interest. Who could Elliot be calling? Everyone he knows is sitting at this table. Anya didn’t volunteer the information and I wonder if she even knows. I could ask, but something makes me hesitate. What if she knows something about Elliot that I don’t? The two have been spending time together in the last few months—probably more time than Elliot and I have spent together. Part of me is afraid that somehow she knows him better than I do now.

  Anya watches as I sip my drink. I cast around for something to say, but nothing comes to mind. What on earth could the two of us possibly talk about? Before she disappeared from the Devoted, we talked all the time. Even the gap in our ages didn’t keep us from being close. But now, she’s like a stranger. I guess thirteen years apart will do that.

  Movement by the restaurant’s side door catches my eye, and I smile with relief as Elliot approaches the table. He offers a grin as he slides into the booth beside Anya. “Sorry about that,” he says, picking up his sandwich.

  I raise an eyebrow. “Phone call?”

  Elliot rolls his eyes as he takes a bite of his meal. “Yeah, nosy,” he says around a mouthful of food.

  I know I’m prying, but I can’t help it. There was a time not too long ago that I knew everything about Elliot. Being faced with the fact that’s no longer the case hits me harder than I’d like to admit. I could ask directly, but it won’t mean as much if he tells me because he feels he has to. I want him to want to.

  I shake my head as I scoop another spoonful of soup, careful this time to blow on it. Probably it’s nothing. Maybe he’s calling about his car or something to do with his apartment. If it’s important, he’ll tell me.

  At least I want to believe he will.

  Anya starts talking, telling anecdotes about customers at the shop. I nod at appropriate intervals, but I’m not really paying attention. I need to make an effort; I know that. I just didn’t think it would be this hard to pretend like I really care about her life. I wish there was a way for my plan to work without having to go through these pleasantries. But I know I can’t. There’s no way I can just reappear in my sister’s life and immediately start grilling her about Krissa and her weaknesses. I have to be patient. Luckily, patience is a virtue I possess.

  Although several people have walked into the restaurant since Elliot joined us, my eyes are drawn to a particular couple as they enter. It’s the guy’s tall frame that catches my eye, his smooth, almost catlike movements. Fox Holloway is hard to miss. Dana Crawford walks behind him, a broad smile on her face as she clutches Fox’s arm. Neither of them notices me, and I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. It would help me sell the bit if the right people see me spending time with my sister. Then again, I’m not sure how close she and her ex-boyfriend are anymore.

  Anya clucks her tongue. When I glance at her, her eyes are fixed on Fox and Dana. Anger swells without my consent. Is that sad look on her face related to the fact that Krissa is no longer in a relationship with this guy? Why should she care? I know she worked with Krissa’s dad for years, but why should that mean she cares about Krissa’s relationships?

  Elliot picks up on Anya’s diverted attention and mentions what I refuse to. “That’s Krissa’s ex-boyfriend, right?”

  Anya nods vaguely. “And Dana Crawford.” She pulls her gaze from the two of them to look at Elliot and me. “I feel so bad for her. She was a member of the elder council. But something went wrong with the spell.”

  I can’t help noticing what she doesn’t say: The elder council spell was designed to break after they locked Seth away. Of course, something went wrong with it because that’s not how things ended.

  Anya’s eyes drift back to Dana as she continues. “She was supposed to be left without any memory of the existence of abilities. But she remembers, and she wants hers back.”

  I file away this new information. I haven’t spent much time cataloging the comings and goings of the former council members. I figured since Seth was gone, they all just went back to their normal lives. This is the first I’ve heard that things didn’t go exactly to plan for them.

  “But really, it’s Crystal Jamison I’m more concerned for,” Anya continues. But instead of explaining what she means, she takes a bite of her sandwich.

  I raise an eyebrow at Elliot, wondering if he’s as lost as I am. Since Anya’s mouth is full, he picks up where she left off. “Crystal lost her abilities too.”

  I struggle to process this information. It doesn’t surprise me that Dana no longer has abilities: She wasn’t born with them. It was a spell that gave them to her to begin with. But Crystal Jamison is a natural-born witch. I’ve never heard of anything that could make someone like her ordinary. Although I couldn’t care less about Crystal, her plight chills me. If it could happen to her, could it happen to me? Before I can ask about it, Anya is speaking again.

  “Those two are in the shop almost every day. They’re trying everything they can to get their abilities back.” A pitying look washes over my sister’s face.

  “Is that even possible?” I ask.

  Anya shrugs. “Not by any spell I’ve ever heard of.”

  “What about the elder council spell?” I press. “That gave abilities to people who didn’t have them.”

  She sighs and it’s obvious this is ground she’s covered before. “You know as well as I do there’s no spell to create a witch or psychic. The council spell was crafted carefully and took generations to collect the abilities that would have naturally manifested in those families. And it was never designed to provide them with powers long-term. Once their task was complete, the abilities were absorbed back into nature. There’s no way to get them back.”

  Something tugs at the back of my memory, so indistinct I’m sure it’s part of a dream. Murmurs and whispers about a spell to allow an ordinary person to wield magic. But Anya just said there’s no such thing, so maybe this idea was simply something conjured by my imagination, although I’m not sure under what circumstances I’d pretend something like that were real. I voice the question on the tip of my tongue: “How did Crystal manage to lose her abilities?”

  Anya’s mouth presses into a tight line, as if she’s debating telling me. Before I can be sure that is what’s going on in her mind, she’s speaking. “Four months ago, Crystal was inhabited by a spirit.”

  I glance at Elliot to make sure I heard her right. He gives a slight nod. “You mean she was possessed?”

  Anya nods. “The spirit was also a witch—Bess Taylor. A
nd when we cast her out, Crystal woke up with no abilities. Somehow Bess took Crystal’s magic with her.”

  The fact that a possessing spirit could take away someone’s powers is eclipsed in my mind by another piece of information. “Wait—Bess Taylor? Like… Seth’s Bess?”

  “The very same.” An expression flickers across Anya’s features, too quick for me to make out.

  My brain fights to make sense of this. Bess Taylor’s story is well known among the Devoted. Her fate is part of the reason we’re told to fear the ordinary: Despite their lack of abilities, they can still harm us and those we love. But I’ve never heard any prophecy about her returning along with Seth. In fact, besides knowing she was Seth’s beloved and how she died at the hands of the ordinary overrunning Clearwater, she was never talked about much—by the Devoted, at least.

  Something clicks in my mind. I remember when a recruitment team came back to town once. Dad brought a couple of the single guys to our house to be treated to a home-cooked meal made by my mom. Although I’m not terribly domestic, Mom asked for my help in the kitchen. As I peeled potatoes, one of the guys told the others a story about some people he met—a group outside our own who knew about Seth. But instead of waiting for him to return, they were fascinated with Bess. He said they believed she knew a secret, something they would stop at nothing to learn. He described them as ruthless in their pursuit. When he attempted to recruit a couple of their stronger witches to the Devoted, they threatened his life and left him so shaken he was considering leaving the team to avoid ever crossing paths with one of their number again.

  Elliot and Anya’s conversation drifts from Crystal’s plight, but I barely hear them. My mind is spinning with possibilities. If this group is looking for contact with Bess Taylor, perhaps I can point them in Crystal’s direction. If they’re as dangerous as the man feared, their presence could assist me in my pursuit. Maybe one way I can strike out at Krissa is through one of her friends.

  Chapter Nine

  Crystal

  My eyes glaze over as I stare at the incomprehensible jumble of numbers and letters on the page before me. I’ve struggled through more than a dozen problems from one of my many missing math assignments, and at this point my brain is basically mush. At least when I had magic, listening to the teacher work through the sample assignments on the board was usually enough for me to work a spell to complete the homework almost automatically. It’s been far too long since I’ve attempted to stumble through equations like this on my own. With a sigh, I scribble in a few numbers followed by x, hoping the teacher doesn’t check this far.

  Usually, Dana and I meet up at her place right after school to try out new ways to get our abilities back. Since her dad died, she’s been living with her mom’s sister, who works until late in the evening. Basically, so long as Dana doesn’t leave a mess for her aunt to clean up, she can do whatever she wants. But after my parents expressed their concern over my academics, I decided it would be to my benefit to at least attempt to bring up my grade. This way, I can show them my progress at the dinner table so they’ll lighten up and not feel the need to check on a daily basis.

  I slam the math book closed and shove it into my backpack. I select the notebook with the record of all the spells Dana and I have tried and take it with me as I leave the room. I check the time on my phone before dropping it into the purse I left on the table by the front door and mutter a curse. A text message notification flashes across the screen. It’s Dana: She’s wondering where I am since I assured her I’d be to her place by now. It’s only a five-minute drive, so I don’t bother sending a response. Slipping into a pair of flats, I pick up my purse and move to open the front door. Before I can twist the knob, a knock sounds.

  Surprised, I pull my hand away. Who on earth could it be? Probably some solicitor. I keep telling my mom we need one of those signs to alert people to the fact we don’t want whatever it is they’re selling, and although she keeps promising to pick one up, she has yet to. If Dad or I answer the door, there’s no problem: Dad has zero qualms saying thanks but no thanks, and I’m a minor, so they can’t sell to me. But if Mom answers, she feels it’s only polite to listen to their spiel, and nine times out of ten she ends up purchasing something.

  “I don’t have time for this,” I murmur, pulling open the door. I’m about to announce to the person on the porch that I’m not interested in whatever she’s peddling, but I stop short when I catch a glimpse of wavy red hair. “Lexie?”

  Through the upper glass of the screen door, my cousin offers a smile so faint I wonder if I’m imagining it. In fact, I wonder if I’m imagining her presence altogether. When I cast my mind back, I can’t recall the last time I saw her at my house—in this reality or my own.

  “Can I come in?” she asks, her voice slightly muffled by the door still between us.

  As if on cue, my purse vibrates slightly as my phone receives another text. I don’t have to check to know it’s from Dana. I open the storm door, but only a few inches. “Actually, I’m on my way out.” The opening isn’t large enough for me to pass through, but I’m afraid to make it any wider in case Lexie takes it as an invitation despite my words. Although I should head for my car, I stay inside the house. I feel safer with something between us.

  Lexie doesn’t make a move to enter, but she doesn’t back away either. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called first. But I won’t stay long, I promise.” She places her hand on the metal handle but doesn’t tug at it. She doesn’t want to force her way into my presence, but she already has. If she really intended to respect me and my plans, she’d leave. The fact that she hasn’t speaks volumes.

  There was a time I could’ve knocked her out of the way with a single spell, but now isn’t that time. I’m powerless. As that thought overwhelms me, I push open the screen to allow her entrance.

  Lexie walks in as if she owns the place, heading straight for the living room and taking a seat in my usual spot on the couch. I don’t join her. I stand, leaning against the entryway table. Disappointment flickers over Lexie’s peaches-and-cream complexion, like she’s actually upset I haven’t taken a spot beside her.

  “You wanted to talk,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “So talk.”

  Lexie shifts against the cushions, as if she has to be in just the right position to speak. “Okay. So.” She glances down at her cuticles as if the words she wants to say are inscribed there. When she finds nothing, her gaze drifts upward again. “I know neither of us has ever been the best with the mushy family fuzzies. And I’m aware we’ve never exactly been besties, but… I miss you.”

  It takes a few moments to process her words. “You… miss me?”

  She nods, the crease between her eyebrows suggesting she’s as mystified by the confession as I am. “We’ve had our ups and downs—lots and lots of downs. And I know you’ve needed your space these last few months, but I don’t think you realize just how scary it was when we had to get that spirit out of you. I thought I’d lost you—and while I was waiting for you to wake up, waiting to see if you were okay, I realized a lot of the things that kept us from being close were so trivial. And I get that things have been hard for you. I get you’re in a state of adjustment. But don’t you think it’s time to move on?”

  I study her face. It’s more open and honest than I can remember ever having seen it, but that doesn’t keep her words from cutting through me. “Move on? What exactly do you think I should be moving on from?”

  Lexie heaves a sigh. “Look, I knew it would come out wrong. Don’t get all offended. What I mean is, I think it’s time for you to get back to your life. Stop shutting everyone out. I don’t know if you think we don’t care about you anymore or what, but whatever’s keeping you from us is in your head. We all miss you. The circle misses you.”

  “The circle misses me?” I sneer. “There wouldn’t be a circle if it wasn’t for me.”

  “I know. It’s not like we’ve forgotten.”

  “So, what? Should I
just show up at the Holloways’ house one night? Sit around while you guys practice spells? Thanks, but no thanks.”

  Lexie shakes her head, visibly flustered. “Come on, Crystal, that’s not all we do—”

  “Oh really? Since when? Because I don’t ever remember going to the beach and having a picnic with you guys, or hanging out at Bridget’s house with everyone to watch a movie.”

  Lexie releases an exasperated groan, balling her fists as she stands. “Why are you being so difficult?”

  “Why are you being so naïve?” I counter.

  She throws up her hands. “I know what you’re trying to do. You and Dana. Fox says she spends all of her free time with you.”

  Anger bubbles up in me. “And what exactly are you accusing me of?”

  Lexie sputters. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I just…” She shakes her head. “I’m just worried.”

  I narrow my eyes. “You’re worried? Well, don’t bother troubling yourself over me.”

  “Don’t be like that,” Lexie grumbles, rolling her eyes. She takes in a breath, closing her eyes for a beat before releasing it. “I think it’s time for you to come to terms with what happened to you.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” I snap.

  Her shoulders sag as the fight goes out of her. “What if you never get your magic back? What if this is just the way you are now? When will you finally accept it?”

  The anger that’s been simmering just under the surface boils over. Digging my nails into the flesh of my palms, I stalk across the room until my face is inches from hers. “I will never stop,” I growl, my voice low. “Sure, it’s easy for you to suggest, standing there with your magic intact. You can’t even imagine what it’s like to be me right now. Part of who I am is gone. You wonder why I haven’t gotten back to my real life yet? Maybe because I’m not the same person. If I’m not a witch, I’m not me. So forgive me if I’m not adjusting like you want me to. There’s no adjustment to this. So, no, I will not stop. I’ll find a way. If you don’t want to support me, fine. I don’t need your help—I don’t need anyone. And when I get my abilities back, you and the others will see I was right all along. I’ll be stronger than ever, and you’ll regret ever doubting me.”