Devil's Frost, Spellspinners Series #3 (The Spellspinners of Melas County) (14 page)

“Other people are going too, right?” Mom demanded.

“Oh, yeah. He’s just giving me a ride. Clover and Saffron are both in the Pink Twinkie as we speak.”

Untying the hoodie from around my waist, I slipped into it. Mom gave me a twenty (one thing we can’t reproduce magically is straight-up cash; it’s unethical, and unlike the warlocks, we don’t mess with the way humans have things set up—though wouldn’t it be nice?) and reminded me to stay in a group. Duh. I was great about that. I didn’t care to be alone at all. Being a people person certainly helped with la familia’s safety-first policy.

Feeling guilty about my envy, I finally said goodbye to Lil. She kissed me on my cheek. I squeezed her hand, which felt cold, then hot, then cold again. I jerked back, eyes wide. She blinked, too, and with clasped hands, we locked eyes. Her energy reached deep into me, like without using words she was trying to tell me something. Something big. What it was, I didn’t understand. I tried. I tried. But I couldn’t Hear yet. And I couldn’t read minds. “Be safe,” she said. “If anything happens to me…” And then the horn honked again, and she dropped my hands, looking sad.

“It’s okay, Lily,” I said. “I’ll be fine and you’ll be fine and I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast.” She nodded once, a practiced smile on her lips. Her face changed from that of a girl who wanted a confidante to that of one easing the mind of her younger, naive sister.

With some people, people who know you inside out and back again, you don’t need words, and somehow saying good luck seemed lame. Too simple. I just wanted her to come back unharmed and full of magic so she’d be happy and we could stop talking about all this Gleaning stuff and go back to our normal, abnormal lives as teenaged Spellspinners of Melas County.

When he saw me walking down the sidewalk toward the Pink Twinkie, Jonah bounced out of his seat, waltzed to the passenger door, and flung it open for me. In my romantic imagination, he mumbled, “Your carriage, madam?” He’d be wearing a top hat and tails, and this was one of the first cars ever made.

In reality, Clover and Saffron were piled into the backseat, which smelled like cheese sticks covered by cheap cologne. Like Tigger, Jonah literally bounced as though his ripped-up Converse had springs in the soles.

“Saved shotgun for me? Why, I’m so flattered.” I pretended to fan my face, Scarlett O’Hara style.

Either he didn’t hear me, or chose to ignore my whimsical dialogue. He bolted back to the driver’s seat, a man with intention.

I waved to my friends: Clover, a witch-in-training like yours truly and one of my BFFs; and Saffron, Jonah’s cousin, a cool redhead who wasn’t a witch but dressed the part—a gypsy with dangling bracelets, long, snarled hair, and jingle bells around her ankles. Clover, on the other hand, was a straight-A student, class president, and authentic prep from head to toe. Usually she wore a pastel button-up top tucked into straight, fitted pants and cute little matching tennis shoes. The two should totally have switched roles, if you asked me. I loved hanging out with them, but it got a little tricky keeping the witch part of our lives from Saffron, especially when she was totally obsessed with the supernatural: reading everything vampire, zombie, witch, ghost, or mermaid she could sink her teeth into and then standing first in line for their movie versions. Conversely, Clover was all about the classics. Jane Austen was her favorite, but in a pinch she’d settle for Charlotte Brontë.

“Saffron said you get carsick?” Jonah looked concerned.

I shot her a look, and she giggled into her shoulder, her bracelets jiggling.

Clover arched her eyebrow and pointed a thumb at Saffron as if to say, “Don't blame me. This was all her idea.” Feeling a flush crawl up my neck, I forced a grin Jonah’s way. “Yeah, uh. Mostly on windy mountain roads, but also on the straight four-block drive to the beach.” What was the point of lying? Better to play it off for a laugh. And he did. Laugh, I mean. Jonah twisted his nose ring and revved the engine. Something about an old VW and its engine was just so…unforgettable. He stuck a cassette tape in, and some crackling music busted through the old speakers.

“Is this a
tape
?”

“Sure thing.”

“I didn’t even think they made those anymore.”

“I kick it old-school,” he said proudly, like a hipster who lives for irony should.

“I see that.”

“And this VW is a 1969. I mean, I didn’t really have a choice. It has a cassette deck. It works. Bam.”

I tapped my Converse to the scratchy tunes. It was probably Jonah’s band. A demo.

“So. What’s your sister up to?”

Ugh.

I couldn’t blame him for having a thing for her, I guess. I wanted to keep up my plan of no lying, but getting out of this one would be hard. One thing on my side, however, was the complete lack of mind reading. Getting a break from those snooping witches was kind of awesome.

“She’s—”

“On a date?”

“Huh?” That caught me off guard.

“With that guy from the beach?”

“Uh.”

“You can tell me, Daisy. I won’t break.”

“I didn’t think you’d break. It’s just…”

“Yes?”

He rubbed his knuckles, not like he was mad, like he was nervous about the answer.

The Gleaning
was
an exchange of energies.

It
was
boy versus girl.

It
was
a preplanned event that young Spellspinners patiently waited for.

In a way, it was an awful lot like a date.

So, technically, I wasn’t lying.

“Yeah, technically, she’s out with Logan.”

“Okay.” He said it like he was fine with it, but his lips fell over into a clownish frown. So exaggeratedly sad that I almost laughed.

“Dude, it’s not like your pet poodle was poisoned. Chill out. She’ll be back.”

His eyes flew open. And not in a good way. Full gray moons. “Let’s hope,” he mumbled.

“What?”

His eyes shadowed again. “Nothing. It’s cool.”

Saffron chose this moment to enter the conversation. “So, Lily’s out with Logan. It’s not the end of the world.”

Unless it was, I thought. Unless Logan gleaned all of her magic and she came back comatose or worse. I caught Clover’s eye in the dusty rearview mirror, begging her to help me out.

“Don’t sweat it, Pinky-J. You’ll have another chance down the road with sweet Lily Rose,” Clover said cheerfully.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“By the way, dude—may I call you dude?” Saffron asked him.

“Sure.”

“I think it’s cool the way you can totally talk about your emotions like this.”

“Why, thank you, Saffron.”

“You’re welcome. And for the record?”

“Yes?”

“I’d totally date you if I were Lily.”

“Duly noted,” Jonah said without blushing or missing a beat.

He really was a cool guy.

When we got to the Witch’s Brew, we offered to help him carry in the equipment for his gig. He let us help and I assumed the other girls felt as cool as I did, carrying in various guitars and music stands and random instruments like a wooden flute. There was also this enormous case that, when the clasp popped open, a glow shone through the crack in the case, exposing the most gorgeous instrument I’d ever seen. “Is that—?”

“A harp. Yes, it is. Beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Stunningly so.”

He nodded. It was the truth.

“So, who plays it?”

He turned to me. “You do.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Say what?”

“The harp. It’s for you.”

“You’re bullcrapping me, Jonah.”

“I wouldn’t bullcrap you, Daisy, though what an interesting phrase.” His eyes flashed with teasing.

Man, I couldn’t even curse in a cool way.

One eyebrow cocked like he was trying to include me in an inside joke that I didn’t get. Again, I felt lamer than lame.

“This is the second instrument I was hoping you’d play.”

Well, I couldn’t play the harp unless I used some sort of magic, and that would be spinning a spell in public, which, not only did I have no idea how to do, but would be totally forbidden. I looked up to Jonah for help, or confirmation, or both.

“I don’t know how to play the harp” was all I said.

He smiled knowingly, raising his eyebrows over those shark-fin-colored eyes like question marks. “Have faith, kid.”

I narrowed my eyes.

Kid?

“Uh. I’d like to, but usually learning an instrument, as you know, takes lessons and practice. You can’t just pick one up and start playing it.”

He shrugged, his eyes light with challenge. “Or can you?”

Huh?

Just like that, his knowing expression faded and was replaced by Busy Musician Jonah.

We set up the little black stage and waited for the rest of his band, which, it turned out, was only me.

The only harp I knew of was the star of a 1947
Mickey and the Beanstalk
cartoon: a beautiful brown-eyed, blond-haired girl in a yellow dress, with a shimmery golden harp for a back—a living embodiment of magic, a creature with the power to enchant a land through her singing. That was a lot to live up to. Why not pass me the wooden flute? Pied Piper I could possibly swing. Harp was a little pressure. There was no way I was going to stand on a stage, in front of half of the youth of Melas County, and play an instrument I had no idea how to play.

While Jonah did a sound test and chatted with the stocky, brown-haired manager, Jeanette, a human Jonah affectionately (?) referred to as the Eel, Saffron and Clover ordered iced decaf drinks with way too much vanilla syrup (
yum
) and sat together at a little round table close to the stage. They shot me thumbs ups. I shook them off. No thumbs up. Thumbs not up! I had to get out of this.

The harp was next to me. I eyed it curiously. It
was
beautiful. Tentatively, I reached out a hand but quickly withdrew it when the strings began to vibrate, releasing a soft note without even being touched.

Whoa. Was this a regular harp, or was it enchanted?

I looked around swiftly, making sure no one was looking. Everyone was busy chatting, so I tried again, reaching toward the harp’s strings. When my fingers were about an inch away, a group of notes sang out.

My heart raced. I dashed over to Jonah. “This is not a normal harp.” Jonah met my eye but said nothing. “I suspect you know that already.”

Gently taking my elbow, he pulled me off the stage and into a darky lit corner. “I’ll explain everything later.” He checked his watch. “The only thing you need to know now is that you have to take the stage and play that harp.”

“Just…start playing?”

Even if the instrument was enchanted, it didn’t mean standing on a stage in front of my peers didn’t totally freak me out. Plus, my friends knew I couldn’t play the
harp
. I mean, come on. Wouldn’t they be suspicious? Clover certainly would be. And how in the world did Jonah know about anything enchanted anyway?

I narrowed my eyes, waiting for his answer, while Jeanette took the stage in her black T-shirt and black pants, lowering the mic from Jonah’s tall, lanky height to her own and saying, “Welcome to open-mic night. We are pleased to have the Pink Twinkies’ front man, our very own fabulous barista, Jonah Mac Attack, here with us tonight. Welcome, Jonah.” She found us in the crowd and pointed him out. The audience cranked their heads and gave a little applause. My friends eyed me curiously. Clover lifted her palms like,
What’s going on?

Jonah gave a little wave to the audience.

“This is it.” He leaned in and whispered as he grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the stage. “Just start playing. The rest will happen…naturally.”

I almost laughed.
Naturally? Don’t you mean magically, Jonah?

But since I didn’t know the breadth of his knowledge, I just stood there with a funny look on my face.

“And with him,” Jeanette continued, “is Daisy Moon White!”

Yes. That was my name. Moon was Mom’s maiden name; White was Dad’s last name. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans while the crowd gave a nice applause. When I sat down on the stool positioned next to the harp, they
ooh
ed and
ahh
ed. It really was stunning. Its golden color gleamed in the dark room, shining like a half-moon or the rising sun. Flushing deeply, I eyed the door. I’d already been introduced. Could I bolt? I supposed it was an option, but how bad would I look then? It’s not like I could create a mind-erasing spell over the whole crowd.

My sister got to do all the cool stuff.

With everyone staring, I was left with no choice. Imitating Jonah, I gave a little wave and a smile to the crowd.

Just then, Jonah shuffled behind me and patted my shoulder. “You got this,” he said with a little wink of a gray eye.

Pursing his lips in a funny expression that looked like a French Nouveau poster, he adjusted the mic back to his height and announced to the crowd, “This is Daisy’s Witch’s Brew debut, and she’s a little nervous. How about you are an extra-cool audience, okay?”

The audience, in response, hooted and hollered, clapped and whistled.

“You got this,” he mouthed to me. “You need to do this, Daisy.”

What other choice did I have now?

I took a deep breath. Closed my eyes. Exhaled. What Would Lily Do? WWLD? I needed a bumper sticker to go along with my Melas T-shirt.

I cracked my knuckles and shook off the nervousness.

She’d just play.

Play the harp.

The hot, bright stage lights permeated my eyes, making the audience look less like real people and more like swaying blurs of shadows. Better. Maybe Jonah was right. Maybe I could do this.

The harp was glorious, and its wide, luxurious strings beckoned me to wrap my fingers around them. I heard the beginning notes of a familiar song. The piano. Jonah was off to the side of the stage, playing the introduction to Jeff Buckley’s “Hallelujah.” It was a song I wanted to learn on the guitar. One of mine and Lily’s favorites. Jonah played the first measures as if expecting me to jump in.