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  Connie speaks up for me. “I’ll be there tomorrow. She’ll have me.” I’ll also have Carter, not that they know that.

  Gran shakes her head. “What if something doesn’t work out?”

  “It will,” I snap.

  “Yes, we will both see,” she says. Pop sends her a silent look and Gran clears her throat. “I’ll get the dessert.”

  When she leaves the room Connie pats my hand. “It’s going to work out, Penelope.”

  “I know,” I say. I hope. Between Connie and Carter, I really hope it’s enough for me.

  Pop stands. “I’m going to help your gran,” he says. Before he leaves the kitchen, he kisses me on the top of my head. Whatever happens, I know he’s proud of me. I just hope that when I succeed, Gran will be too.

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning passes in a blur. I wake up on autopilot, trying not to think about anything. Ric drives us to the Nucleus House. Ric doesn’t speak to me, at least to my memory, and before I go inside I search the parking lot for Carter’s car. I don’t see it, but I do see Connie’s. At least someone showed up for me.

  “Good luck,” Ric says when we turn opposite ways. I smile, but I know it’s weak.

  Inside the training room, there are only twelve girls. Including me. This is it. This is really the last chance. Mrs. Bentham comes in a few minutes after me, three women in long white robes following her. The female section of the council. She claps her hands together.

  “Ladies! Today is a special day: magical testing. A day to prove you have all the skills needed to be an Enforcer. We test those skills to save the Nons around us, to teach each other, to honor the things we are given.”

  An excited chatter fills the space around me. My heart pounds. Magic. I try to focus on Connie, and in no time at all I feel her presence. The magic is soft and gentle, familiar. I don’t sense the storm that usually brews with Carter’s magic. I shouldn’t have trusted him to come.

  “All of these tests will be used to measure your individual skills as a witch, and help us find the perfect partner for you,” she says.

  I close my eyes and pray that this isn’t the day that everyone finds out I’m a joke. That I can’t do magic. That I’m not meant to be here, or to be a witch at all. I swallow past the large lump that has formed in my throat. We stand in a line while Mrs. Bentham pairs us off into two groups of six. The council doesn’t tell us anything else, but one of them, a woman, leads us out the door one group at a time.

  I’m in the second group. Each step we take is another movement toward the end of life as I know it. I’ve never been afraid, but suddenly I am. Of everything. This is another obstacle set to bring me down. To reveal the truth. My magic isn’t cranky, it’s completely dead. Gone. I shouldn’t be here.

  The woman in white waves a hand in the air and every girl in my group is quiet. I don’t know any of these girls except Trina. They all stand tall, shoulders back, but I shrink to the floor. I wish I could be invisible. Then, I might survive this.

  “My name is Ellore,” she says. Her dark hair is pulled back. Her skin is the color of deep caramel. She’s beautiful, perfect, and probably deadly. “Today we will start with water.”

  As she says the word “water” a large pool of water appears in the center room. I don’t think it’s real, even though the sound of waves and a musky scent of salt and seaweed fill the room. I’ve never seen an ocean trapped in a pool. This can’t be good. There’s no way this is good.

  “As a witch, you are tuned in to your surroundings. We pull from nature and all she has to offer us. We give back to her. Your first test is to face the water and not fall. You will start on this side,” she says. A girl gasps as Ellore takes a step in the ocean—and stays on the water. She doesn’t sink, doesn’t need to swim, and doesn’t even get wet.

  “And you will go to this side.” Everyone’s still as she moves, as if our breathing could make her fall. She makes it across. “You will all be able to watch—though no one can hear anything that’s happening beyond this line on the ground.” Ellore points to a thick black marker at the front of the group. “Whenever you’re ready, girls, one of you may start.”

  On the other side of the water, Ellore stands taking notes. One girl—a short one who’s a little rounder—steps up. Ellore waves her on. The girl thinks about it, walks around the water, sticks a finger up to test the wind. Everyone watches her.

  I focus on Connie’s magic and let it fill me up as much as possible. I’m going to need it.

  The girl sticks her leg out over the water. There’s a collective intake of breath from all the girls as we watch her step up. She takes two solid steps before she wobbles, one ankle rolling as her arms flail. She regains her footing, steady again. She takes about four more steps before the waves pick up around her. Even from where we stand, I can see them moving under her feet. The girl teeters some more, then takes two more steps before crashing in. She made it over halfway, but it’s not enough. She comes up from water, soaked and spitting out salt. Ellore reaches out a hand, and then the girl is safely on shore. Wet, probably humiliated, but unharmed. Aside from the whole being disqualified thing.

  I bite my lip and watch as the other girls go. The taste of blood lingers on my tongue; my heart is racing. This does not bode well for me.

  I’m the last one for this part. Six other girls have gone. Five have made it over. I close my eyes and try to remember what Connie’s magic feels like when it stirs up inside me. When it builds and pulls from the elements. There’s a spark of something: I pray it’s enough to get me across.

  I stand in front of the water, Ellore and the other girls on the opposite side.

  This is it.

  I lower my foot down, eyes still closed, and prepare for the splash. It doesn’t come. Thank you, Connie! One step and then another, but then something shifts. I lose my balance and flap my arms around so I don’t fall. At the other end, I see the girls and Ellore watching me. I try to focus on Connie’s magic. They’re going to wonder why I stopped. If I’m going to fail, at least I’ll fail while trying to succeed.

  I close my eyes and stick out my foot.

  Then I feel it.

  The soft hum of Connie’s magic is replaced by a raging fire inside my stomach. I take a step, eyes still closed. The warmth is strong, stirring inside, growing and building. It’s Carter’s magic—there’s no doubt. I can tell from the way it fights to get out all at once.

  The water sways under me. I toss my arms out to balance myself, but keep my eyes closed. I tremble, rock with the movement of the waves, and will myself forward. I take another step and another. The waves increase, I breathe, take a step. Again and again, like a refrain.

  My feet hit something solid. People clap around me and I open my eyes.

  I’m on the other side. I made it across. Holy crap, I made it across. I didn’t fall in the water. I look around the room and Ellore makes notes in her notebook.

  Carter showed up after all.

  The second test is a wind test, Ellore tells us. We’re not allowed to watch this one, so the five of us who survived the first test sit in an empty room and wait. No one says anything to me, even Trina. She smiles my way and stays at my side. A couple of the other girls toss glances my way, but I’m okay with it. This is bigger than them.

  Ellore opens the door and says my name. The other girls look at me. I lift my chin up and walk out.

  An expanse of green surrounds me, the size of a football field. Ellore leads me to the center and stands beside me. Her voice is like a soft breeze.

  “The wind brings us many gifts and it can carry anything to anywhere. These challenges will show us what you can carry when you are in control of the wind.”

  She’s gone, off somewhere I can’t see. Leaves cover the floor around me. Wind. I hold a hand over one of the leaves trying, to get them to rise.

  Nothing happens.

  I try again. Nothing.

  Please, please, please work. I need this to
work. I picture in my head the wind carrying the leaves up into the air. The breeze on my face is like a soft touch, a beautiful downpour of reds, greens, and yellows.

  I reach my hand out again, and a leaf flies into the air. Then, two. Then six more. In a single second, every leaf is floating up toward the ceiling. Thousands of them. I let go and they start to fall like raindrops. I catch them again before they land, toss them back up.

  They don’t come back down.

  Instead, now I have Ping-Pong balls. About twenty land on the ground at my feet in a circle around me. In the distance, there are red cups in a line around the entire perimeter of the field. They’re different heights—some floating, suspended in the air, and some on the floor. It doesn’t take much to figure out what I need to do.

  I hold my hand out again. A ball floats up off the ground. I flick the ball with my hand and it misses my target, a couple of inches short of a cup. I curse and try again. This time, the ball lands in a cup that’s suspended in the air. Again I toss a ball, and again it lands. I try two. Both land. Three, and they land. Magic is awesome! The thrill floating through me, the power and the pull of it building inside me. The possibilities.

  I look around at the other balls.

  I raise my hands up, all the balls coming up with them, and get a clear image in my head. I don’t know how this is working, this picturing thing, but it sure is. I see all of them flying across the room, zooming in different directions, each landing in a cup.

  I let go.

  The remaining balls dance off the ceiling, off the floors, off the walls, off each other. They fly, zoom, float, and bounce. I smile. This is possibly the coolest thing ever. The balls all land in a cup with satisfying pings.

  I lower my hands, feeling a little dizzy. That’s a lot of magic for someone who usually deals in denominations of zero.

  A loud boom of thunder claps over my head. Instinctively I cover my head. It’s not thunder. The noise bounces off the floor, up and down. I look to my left—basketballs. Hundreds of them all bouncing around. What the hell am I supposed to do with that many? They bounce around me, thwacking around the room.

  I let the warmth of the magic fill me, and stop all the balls. They cease with a resounding, echoing thud. There are no nets. No bins. Nowhere for them to go. What am I supposed to do with this?

  I kick a ball and move around them, looking for a clue. There’s nothing. The ball I kicked hits another and another—a domino effect across the room, moving like a wave. I stop them all and keep walking around the room.

  I use the wind to bounce a ball in the air. I have to figure this out. I bounce another and keep it in the air. I bounce another, alternating new basketballs with old ones. I laugh. No one told me magic could be fun! Seriously. Why didn’t anyone tell me? I take them higher and lower. Up and down until every basketball is alternating between air and ground. Then, suddenly, the balls disappear. Really? That was all I had to do. Well, yay.

  The balls are soon replaced. A car sits in the middle of the room. Just a car and nothing else. Great. Am I supposed to lift this up too? Call me the Hulk.

  I sit on the floor, half exhausted, half in awe of this task. Lift a car. Sure. I can do that. It’s completely normal and useful to ask us to lift a car off the ground. Never know when you’ll need to squash a demon during road rage.

  I start by pushing it to get some leverage. I get a clear image—wind, force, and power moving the car across the street. It only moves a little at first, a nudge, but then I try harder. I conjure all the magic I can from within. I try to fill all the spots inside with the magic. I push harder.

  The magic swells up within me. I hold it all in. I call on the wind, and it stirs inside me. I let it build up until it explodes at my fingertips. When I let go, the car lifts four feet off the ground. I pour out the magic, try to keep it all going. I can’t. The car crashes down, windows cracking at the force.

  My knees wobble. I feel weak, tired, like at any second I could fall over. The room tilts. Ellore is there when I look up. “Are you okay, Miss Grey?”

  I nod, but I don’t think she believes me. I just lifted a car and the amount of magic that requires is incredible. I’ve never felt this powerful when I dealt with anyone else’s magic.

  With my arm draped around her shoulders, Ellore leads me out of the gymnasium and into the waiting room.

  The last test starts with each of us separated into different rooms. I’ve been standing in this white room for long enough that my feet hurt. Ellore did not tell us why we’re here, or what test awaits us next. There are no windows or doors; there’s only the white room and the glow of a fluorescent light.

  A buzz sounds through the room—a sharp, tactile, piercing noise worse than a thousand nails on a thousand chalkboards. I cover my ears and the sound stops. It’s replaced by Ellore’s voice.

  “In the craft, things are not always what they seem, as fire turns one thing into something else. This is the final test for you. Find the thing you treasure on earth and save yourself. ”

  Then the voice ends. That’s it? That’s the clue? They had more clues on Wheel of Fortune.

  Think, Penelope.

  It’s got to be a fire task, since she mentioned that. She mentioned earth, too. Maybe it’s both things?

  The white room shakes, shifts, and I feel the glamour flow around me as it changes form. I shiver at the sight of the light-purple walls. This was my room once, in my parents’ house. It’s comforting, in some weird and twisted kind of way. But why would they turn this room into my childhood bedroom? This place doesn’t mean anything good or safe for me anymore. It certainly isn’t my treasure on the earth. It’s only a house made of bricks and mortar, filled with ash and memories.

  I walk around the copy of my bedroom. The pictures I drew in kindergarten line the walls in white frames. The carpet that was pulled up after my parents’ deaths is still on the floor. This place is before, when life was normal and my parents were alive and I had magic. It’s like nothing happened to them.

  A scream echoes, and I run out my door. To my surprise, the glamour of my old house continues. I follow another scream down the stairs. This is the house I grew up in, every detail exact right to the smell of cinnamon. But there’s a smell that’s wrong—smoke.

  “Penelope!”

  It’s Connie, but she’s not down here—she’s upstairs. I race through the kitchen, but everywhere I turn there are more flames. Rapid and flickering, sizzling away the life I left behind. This is just a test, I tell myself. The flames lick at my feet and heat up my leg—this is not a test. This is real. My sister is upstairs.

  “Connie!”

  She screams again. Gathering the magic is hard when my emotions are all over the place. I try to calm myself down, to call on the elements to put out the flame, but it doesn’t work. I can’t focus. I move as fast as I can up the stairs. The fire chases me, races me to my sister. I picture her in turmoil, flames trapping her. I see myself, bursting in, calling on the magic and pouring it out. Then I think of water.

  The power begins to stir within me. I call on it in every way I can—in all the elements, muttering any incantation I can think of, with every image I have inside. It coils against my soul, pushes at my toes. I shove it out and water trickles out of me.

  Connie’s in her old room. The flames completely separate me from her. Her cries are hysterical. I have to save my sister.

  I thrust more power out, as quickly as possible. Water pours out of me, consuming me, and I pull on the magic more and more until water rushes down and completely extinguishes the wall of flames separating me from Connie. Fire still dances around us, but I have time to grab my sister and go.

  “I’ll get you out, Con,” I shout, throwing a glance at Connie as I drag her behind me. Only it isn’t Connie.

  It’s my mom.

  When I turn around, the fire is nearer and something grapples at my feet—it’s the orange-eyed demon. The same one that killed my parents. The one that to
ok my powers. Just the sight of it again brings all my anger to the surface.

  I look at my mom, her eyes tired and her lips quivering. The sight of her lodges something in my throat. The demon yanks me away from her. I scream and kick, but my cries are lost in the sound of the flames. No one can save me. No one can save me.

  The demon magic-traps me to the floor, my arms immobile. It runs a claw down the vein that snakes from my elbow to my wrist, cutting into my skin. I scream as my blood drips onto the carpet. This can’t happen. I won’t die—not like this.

  I call on my magic while Mom’s cries surround me. It takes too long. I’m tired. There’s not enough strength in me to stop the demon.

  What did Ellore say before?

  Turn one thing into something else.

  I look around the room, still unable to move. The demon’s talons curl around my mom’s neck, squeezing tighter as the blood drains from her. Crimson soaks her clothes and drips onto the floor in a puddle large enough to make me feel like I’m dying with her all over again.

  “Virtute angeli ad infernum unde venistis!” I say.

  The demon looks at me, its orange eyes almost amused. He shuffles closer to me, dropping my mom on the ground with a sickening thud. Her blood creeps across the floor and mixes with mine. I wait until he’s close to the fire, and then I picture the salt. I picture it as fire, as rain, covering everything in the room and killing the demon.

  It takes half a second for the fire in the room to transform into salt. Mounds and mounds of salt. It flies through the air, trails across the ground. The orange-eyed demon stares at the transformation and trips over my foot, falling into one of those mounds. He screams as the salt burns his flesh, and I yell the incantation again as loud as I can. “Virtute angeli ad infernum unde venistis!” Over and over until it’s all I can say, until my voice cracks and the demon explodes into pieces, hopefully back to hell.

  As soon as he’s gone, the world around me fades into white again, and then black.