Devil's Frost, Spellspinners Series #3 (The Spellspinners of Melas County) (13 page)

Me. Lily and I were both Chosen. The weight of this burden, the weight of this gift, was as heavy as that plate of ice had been. Together we could change everything. But this was only the beginning of our fight.

After a while, Lily crawled out of the cave and walked toward me, the thin, flowing dress she wore under the robe, nothing more than a nightgown, flowing in the breeze. She looked halfway between a ghost and an angel in the starlight, with glowing eyes that matched our fire. I buried my questions for now. We needed this quiet, some light after so much darkness. We needed to feel safe. She sat beside me, our thighs touching, and twined her hands through mine.

Then, without discussing it aloud, we clasped the amulet between our hands and mumbled a spell protecting this cove from outsiders.

It was the first spell we’d run together and it was incredible.

I was curious, curious about so many of the things she kept hidden, but I didn’t want to press her about it tonight. She needed space to breathe. To be. To regain her strength after so much craziness. And we needed to be together like this. Simply, real, without interruptions or conflict.

In my arms, her breath slowed, eyes weighted. I leaned over her curled body, kissed her eyelids like she had mine earlier, and she sighed contentedly. I stroked her arms, so thin and lithe and fragile in appearance, but in reality so strong and fearless.

Once she was quiet and still, her perfect chest rising and falling in sleep, I stared up at the moon, thinking, replaying the events of the day and finally listening as the sea creatures’ splashing and playing stilled. Maybe I fell asleep. I don’t know. But I awoke to Lily’s soft kiss on my cheek. She moved a swath of hair out of my eyes and just stared. The last embers from our fire reflected off her perfect, heart-shaped face, and she looked so gorgeous there was no way I could not be with her. Our eyes met with the intensity of a thousand suns, a million stars. I couldn’t tear my gaze away. This was the
later
she’d been talking about.

Inside, everything stirred. Wide-awake, my body tensed as she bent over me again, kissing my jawline. I stirred, rolled toward her, wrapping my arms around her, kissing her forehead, all warmth now. She turned her sweet mouth toward mine—her body into mine, pressing, pulling, melting—as I pressed her into the sand like I’d never let her go. She groaned as I kissed every place she had skin. Every inch of her body sparked and trembled and moved with mine, the shivers on her skin, the sparks of her eyes lighting my way in the dark. Her fingers tangled in my hair, her warm breath whispering promises in my ear, and I answered back with my eyes, my mouth, my body, in a way my words never could.

Who knew what would happen tomorrow? This might be our last night on earth, our last hour, realistically, but it was real and it was complicated and it was a gift. I kissed her soft lips, and she held my face in her beautiful hands and smiled with her half-sun eyes that said,
Yes, yes, yes.
Cocking my head to the side, I took in all of her beauty, all of her stubborn, persistent strength, this leader, this gorgeous witch. How could I be so lucky as to be the one she decided to risk her heart on? Her lips parted, and my mouth answered, rough and passionate and honest. She was wild and true and, for the moment, until the rising sun ripped off our safety veil and left us vulnerable to our many enemies, it didn’t matter what dark secrets she was hiding. We were infinitely—beautifully—free.

Through the crack in the bedroom door, I could see her—my big sister, my hero—looking more beautiful than ever as she sat upright in her vanity’s high-backed golden chair, which was much too small for a girl of sixteen. Mom brushed her long blond hair, twisting it into tiny braids along the crown of her perfectly smooth (no trace of a zit or sign of a future blemish) forehead, and then connected the two cords together in the back, winding the rest into a ceremonial twist of shimmering rope for the Gleaning. If my mom attempted this hairstyle on me, not only would it take twice as long to do, but I’d moan and groan with each pull and tug. And first we’d have to straight-iron my curls and get some extensions. Who knows, though? By the time it’s my turn to enter the Gleaning, there might be all new rules of appearance.

Lily touched her necklace with an unusually pensive look in her cerulean eyes. Tomorrow her eyes will be a different color, depending on how well she does in the fight.

“You look beautiful,” Mom said reassuringly, obviously not seeing the same thing I did, or if she did, not admitting it to herself or my sister. “You look ready.”

Lily
did
look beautiful—she always did—but I could tell from her expression, a mix of worry and sadness and fear, that she most certainly didn’t look
ready
. Mom placed her hand on Lily’s shoulder and stared deeply into my sister’s reflection in the mirror. “If you are paired with Logan tonight, you must try to think of him as just another warlock; Congression doesn’t know he is the
Roghnaithe
and won’t make any exceptions for you. His mark may reveal itself within the ring, but it’s not for you to announce. If your emotions get involved, you will lose focus and everything you’ve worked so hard for.”

My sister looked at our mother like she was nuts.
Logan just a warlock?
I knew from eavesdropping that he meant
way
more to her than that. Mom and Lily try to protect me from stuff, but they don’t get that I’m old enough to understand. I’m a witch-in-training, too, just like Lily was when she was fifteen.

I stayed back, hidden. I was more mature than my mother and sister gave me credit for. Until they did, I had no choice but to sneak around magical-sleuth-style, searching for clues like a witchy Veronica Mars—the most awesome blond girl to ever kick it detective style in a funky California beach town.

As Mom droned on about mindfulness and meditation—more of her New-Agey yoga-meets-magic stuff—I took the opportunity to pull my compact mirror out of my glitter purse and fix my lip gloss. There’s a spell to color your lips, but no one will teach it to me, so I’m left with the drugstore stuff for now. Unfortunately, my plan wasn’t the easiest to pull off with one hand, and when the mirror clanged to the wood floor, shattering the glass in the small, round screen, I scooped it up and bolted. Fast. Before I got caught.

In the bathroom, I brushed my hair a few more strokes, switched the part from the right to the left and then to the middle. Unlike Lily’s straight flaxen hair, my hair is golden and wavy. If I brush it too much, it looks like pulled cotton. Ugh.

Wrinkling my nose, I gave up and pulled it back into a high ponytail, checking out tonight’s outfit: a semitight T-shirt over dark jeans, pink sparkly high-top Converse, and a pink hoodie that read MELAS IS SALEM SPELLED BACKWARD on the back. If there were awards for cuteness, I’d take home the top prize.

The coven warns us about encouraging the already widely held witch suspicions in Melas County, but I think it’s better to just, you know,
go with it
, hide in plain sight, so we don’t look like we’re obviously trying
not
to be witches because, look, the truth is, we
are
witches. If that makes sense. Besides, I thought Jonah would get a kick out of the shirt.

And no, before you think I’m a total leech, I wasn’t trying to scam on Lily’s passed-over boyfriend entrée or anything. I just liked the guy. He was funny. Smart. Cool. He treated me like he treated Lily, listened to me,
really
listened, unlike my fellow ninth graders, who were total dolts.

The hardest part of living in Melas County was that pretty much all the hot guys were warlocks, and we weren’t allowed to date warlocks, which left us with the boring humans, who, by comparison, just didn’t add up to much. No offense. But Jonah was different. He had the same sort of edge the Spellspinners did, except he was nice and good-looking in an interesting, non-perfect-hot-teen TV show way. He had this nose ring, and his eyes were deeply set and a freakish almost gray, which reminded me of the moon rising over the forest. And he nonironically dug pink. I mean, I thought nonironically.
He had pink hair
. It could have been irony, though, now that I thought about it, but whatever, he pulled it off.

Of course, he was too old for me, but we were buds. (Technically, music teacher/music student, but whatever. Who was asking?)

When I showed interest at the bonfire he and Lily brought me to, he agreed to give me guitar lessons. I’d had only a few so far. He recently mentioned he wanted me to try another instrument, a special one—his words—that he thought might be perfect for me. I was sure it was just commentary about my crappy guitar playing. I have a hard time learning the chords, and my butter fingers twist into unnatural shapes to hit them…I don’t know. I try hard. I do. But I think my complete lack of Lily-esque agility sets me up for full fail mode.

I used the bathroom one more time. (I wasn’t nervous. I just had too much herbal tea at dinner—what?) This time, instead of loitering by my sister’s cracked-open door, I breezed on in like I owned the place. That was a tip my dad gave once when I was worried about my first middle school dance in sixth grade. “You got this, kid. Go on in there and act like you own the place.” Thinking about my dad made me sad, made me look like Sad Lily, so I pushed that thought right out the door as I pushed into Lily’s room.

I stopped short when I saw a series of candles lined up on Lily’s windowsill and her standing opposite
blowing them out with her mind.
Mom wore an approving smile on her face.

“That. Is. So. Awesome.”

Then a shrill horn honked so loudly I nearly jumped out of my jeans.

“Is that Jonah?” Lily asked.

“Uh-huh.”

She cocked her head, her perfectly crafted braid cascading over her right shoulder. It was like she was dressed up to walk the red carpet to a movie premiere. She was so gorgeous. She took my breath away, and I was her
sister
. I couldn’t imagine how those poor boys drooling over her felt. I’d kill for a boy to look at me even one time the way Jonah looked at Lily. But for her, it was like a daily occurrence.

“Yeah, he’s playing tonight at the Witch’s Brew, but you know, I don’t have to go.”

Lily eyed me strangely. “No,” she said. “You should go. You
need
to go.”

Need to go?

Hang at the Witch’s Brew?

O-kay. That made sense on no level whatsoever.

Uncomfortable with the serious nature of her tone, I glanced out the window and imagined Jonah waiting for me, all adorable and ready to strum his guitar and teach me all those awesome folk-rock songs I dug so much, but then I looked at my sister, my big sister who let me curl up in bed beside her for a full year after our dad moved out. My big sister who was scared.

“I don’t really
need
to go, Lil. Really. I should stay here and wait up for you,” I said, trying to make my voice as serious and as sincere as possible. “What if you get hurt and need me?”

Lily looked at me appreciatively. Then she glanced toward the window, too, a wistful look in her eyes, before turning back to me with intent. “No, no. Daisy, you have to go.” She leaned in and whispered, possibly so Mom wouldn’t overhear, “Promise me you’ll go and you’ll stay there. Promise me.”

I nodded quickly. “Why?” I whispered back.

“A feeling I have. Trust me. Whatever it is, it’s important.”

I nodded again. I trusted her.

When Mom looked over, I wiped the seriousness off my face. “Aww, you look so beautiful, Lily!” Obviously, she wanted to keep this between us.

Flooded with love and admiration—and a little curiosity over the importance of me holing out in the Brew, I leaned forward and touched her wrist. I suddenly knew what to do. What to say. How to help. I promised her I’d stay. No big deal. That was easy. And I knew what to say, too. The last thing she needed to do was worry about me. I needed to assure her I’d stay in the coffee shop and that I’d be safe. “And so strong. I know you’ll be amazing.”

That’s what Dad would say. He’d remind her how tough she is. How wonderful. How, when the time came, she always chose right. He’d back up Mom’s supportive words; she’d back up his. They had been a team before it all fell apart and all we were left with were questions and late-night tears in the dark.

“You’ve worked so hard, trained so hard. You’ll be okay,” I assured her, believing my words as I said them.

“Thanks, Daze,” she answered, referring to me by my forever nickname. “And you should go. Have fun. You have a ride home with Jonah?”

I nodded.

“It’s essential you get home safe,” Mom chimed in. “The Gleaning lasts until sunrise, honey. I’ll be out of earshot until then, so call Auntie Fern if you need anything.”

Gone until dawn?

So, technically, I didn’t have to be in my bed until sunrise?

That was, like, twelve hours from now. A lot could happen in twelve hours. My mind wandered to inappropriate places, and both my mom and my sister jerked their heads upright and glared at me, reading my thoughts. Dammit.

“I will. I will.”

“Daisy. Jonah is much too old for you,” Mom scolded.

My cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“It was just a thought. A girl has a right to her own private thoughts, you know!” I protested, and they laughed. I blinked away flushed cheeks. Typical. Silly Daisy would never dream of having adventures of her own. God forbid if they involved an interesting boy. Those fantasies, those
realities,
were reserved for Lily.