Storm: a Salt novel (Entangled Teen) Page 11

  “Aye, but it doesn’t take much to see that you’re out to prove yourself. Not with all that hatred. Hatred is powerful, but it can destroy you faster than any demon. This won’t make you feel better.”

  “What is this, therapy? I’m about to kill you.”

  “Then do it,” the demon hisses.

  I don’t let it speak another word before I stab the knife into its heart and mutter the incantation so it explodes.

  The demon was wrong.

  That did make me feel better.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Penelope

  When I wake up I expect to feel like a piece of me is missing, the way it would feel if I’d lost a limb. I’m not an Enforcer anymore—my magic is bound. I should be sad, or angry, but I don’t feel any different. I still feel like me. Me with a supercharge. Even with the magic bound from the marking, the void tickles under my skin like a soft hum in the background. I don’t feel powerless. I feel like I could lift a car or bust through a wall.

  I run my finger across the gold band on my wrist. If I can feel the magic, then maybe I’m still able to use the void. This is the chance to try. On the other side of the room is a vase of fake, bright, sparkly purple flowers. I’ll start out small. Eyes open, I stare at the vase and imagine it blowing up in my head. Cracking down the center along the middle and then splintering off into other sections before it shatters. Once the image is clear, I push it out the same way I always do. The magic responds, building up toward my skin and making it itch, sort of like a sunburn.

  But nothing happens.

  The mark really does keep all of my magic from working. What’s the point of having both kinds if I can’t use either one?

  The whole family is in the kitchen when I get downstairs. Gran smiles up at me when I come in and points to the muffins, but I make a beeline to the coffee. Priorities.

  “Connie, can’t you put the phone down while you eat? You won’t malfunction without it.”

  My sister looks up from her cell phone. She’s been addicted to some game on there for a week now. “You don’t know that, Gran.” She smiles when she says it and takes a bite of bacon. “One more level.”

  Gran rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her coffee. Pop’s newspaper ruffles as he huffs. “Penelope, come look at this,” he says. I move to look over his shoulder at the paper, but all I’m seeing is a Garfield comic. Pop does not read Garfield, and the WNN doesn’t print Garfield.

  “What do you think?” he asks, pointing at the panel where Garfield is sleeping.

  I think my ban means I can’t even read the paper.

  My heart races because I can’t say that I can’t read the paper. If I admit it then they’ll ask why, and I’ll have to tell them. “I have a little headache.”

  Pop laughs. “My thoughts exactly.”

  Wait—that just worked? I take a sip of my coffee but say nothing else. Over the rim of my cup, I watch Gran shake her head and look at me. Like she senses I’m off. How can she know? Then she smiles my direction, and my anxiety falls away slightly. I need to get out of here, before I give myself away.

  “Don’t you have testing today?” I say to Connie. She nods my way and I can see the nerves on her face.

  Everything would’ve been fine if it had all gone as we’d planned—me and Connie taking the test together, me using her magic, us passing. There’d be no demons after me, no Statics with magic, no me with only the hum of magic I can’t access under my skin. The irony of that isn’t lost on me.

  “Well, good luck,” I say to Connie. She doesn’t need it. Day one of exams is verbal questions. She can totally ace this part.

  Her eyes meet mine across the room and she smiles. “I’m a Grey. I don’t need luck.”

  “You should go—both of you—before you’re late,” Gran says.

  Connie grabs a muffin from the basket in front of her. “Want to ride together?”

  Right. We’re both going to the Nucleus House—at least we would be if I was still an Enforcer. Everyone stares at me, waiting for an answer. It shouldn’t even be a question. In all honesty, I don’t think I can get close to the Nucleus House. What if I can’t even see it? Crap on a stick.

  “I’m not sure how long I’ll be there today, or how long you’ll be there. Probably better to drive separately,” I say. “But we’ll hang out after. We can watch a movie.”

  Gran looks like she’s going to protest, but my phone rings. Saved by the freaking bell. “It’s Ric. I’ll see you all later.”

  I answer the phone and close the door behind me. It’s a pretty day today, not the usual sweltering heat for August, so I’m going to walk to six blocks the metro.

  “I miss you already.”

  “It’s only been a day…” But I miss him, too.

  “What can I say? It’s hot in Texas.”

  “That’s a weird comment,” I say.

  He pauses. “It—I don’t want to be here.”

  I should’ve read the subtext. How did I miss that? “But your dad must be glad you’re there.”

  Ric sighs on the line. “Sure, you can say that I guess. Step-diva has been over-attentive. I wish she wouldn’t try to so hard.”

  “Maybe she wants you to like her. That’s not too crazy.”

  “I don’t even like myself right now, let alone her.”

  I’m not sure what to say to that. “I like you,” I whisper.

  “Too bad you’re hundreds of miles way with all the hot guys.”

  “Find a hot guy. Flirting, relaxing, and resting—that’s what this trip is for. Doctor’s orders.”

  He scoffs. “It’s babysitting. I’m a burden to everyone now. The last thing I want to do is relax because when I stop I think about Maple, and then I think about how we buried her two days ago and I’m exiled to Texas. And how now that she’s gone I have nothing.”

  “That’s not true—”

  “It is true,” he says, almost shouting. “I’ve lost my partner. I feel that every single day. The Triad will have to decide if they can re-pair me, and I have to decide if I can handle that.”

  “Of course you can. You’ve worked your whole life for this.”

  “And one week in, my partner dies. What does that say about me?”

  My brain scrambles to find the right thing to say, and fails. “It was a freak accident. You didn’t do anything.”

  “Exactly.”

  I exhale. “Ric.”

  “Forget it.”

  “I know you feel lost, but I’m here. You have me.”

  “And you have Carter.” He practically spits his name. He doesn’t mean it that way, but it stings all the same. Maybe I am a bad friend. A bad person. A horrible witch.

  “I get how it feels to lose someone that important.”

  “Oh. So, you’ve lost a partner, someone who you were bonded with magically, and they died and you lost the one thing you’ve spent your whole life working for and somehow you feel like it’s all haunting you? You did all that you didn’t tell me?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then, I promise you don’t understand anything that I’m feeling.”

  There’s silence on the line. There’s nothing else to say. “I’m trying to be supportive.”

  “I don’t need your support. I need you stop trying to feel this pain and feel your own.”

  “What’s that mean?” I ask, sudden anger flaring up me.

  “I played a hand in killing Maple. We all did. You don’t feel what I feel. Her death doesn’t even affect you. I have to wake up every day knowing she’s dead and I’m alive. You don’t understand what that’s like.”

  “Ric…”

  “I’ve got to go,” he says quickly, and then he hangs up.

  I stare at my phone. I understand more of that than he knows.

  …

  I am not fit for museums. My attention span is too short. Maybe if Ric or Connie were with me then we could make it work, flit around and joke at the weird naked-painted people with di
sproportionate bodies. Alone, though, it doesn’t work. After about thirty minutes, I couldn’t read little signs or be excited by pictures. I was in and out of the first two museums in an hour. The Air and Space Museum was more fun—at least there I could touch things and listen to Whoopi Goldberg take me on a journey through the stars in the Planetarium. But still.

  How do people do this all day? All this walking and looking at stuff that doesn’t make any sense unless you read the explanatory signs, but the print is so small and people are pushy and all up in your space with funky breath. And my feet ache. This is definitely not fun.

  I need to be useful. I have salt, and while I may be marked, I’m not completely incapable. I’ve not had magic before and been fine. I can get answers from a demon without magic.

  I cross the street and pass the line of people at the District Taco truck. My stomach growls and I wonder how much queso they can pour over my nachos. Pouring it directly into my mouth would be easier, but I’m sure that goes against some sort of sanitary code.

  A smell fills my nose—not the carne asado deliciousness, but sulfur. A demon. Perfect timing, since that’s exactly what I wanted.

  I glance left, and there’s a flash of light. I look over and on the sidewalk is a demon. The mauve one. Again. Lia must be bored, or desperate. She waves at me, and I pull my bag higher on my shoulder and walk toward it. If the mauve demon goes insane, I have salt. I can still use salt—and I can run. Lia could probably catch me, but I’d have a head start. But Lia’s insistent about being around me, so she must not have immediate plans to kill me. She’s definitely had opportunity. Or maybe I don’t scare her. I should work on that.

  “Why are you here?”

  “To talk,” Lia says.

  “We’ve already done that.”

  She points at my arm. “Still new, yes? Yesterday, from the looks of it.”

  I raise my eyebrow. “Stalking me?”

  Lia smiles, sinking back into the shadow of the building so she’s less visible. “No, I have a life. But demons can see the markings when they’re fresh. Under three days, still? Any longer and it fades. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that. What’d you do to make the Triad angry?”

  I cross my arms and stuff my marked hand under my armpit. “None of your business.”

  “I need your assistance, and now you need me even more than before,” she nods toward the mark on my wrist.

  “I don’t have magic—I can’t access anything,” I hold up my arm as a reminder. “Marked. That’s sort of what it does.”

  “But you can,” Lia says. I huff because I have tried. It did nothing. “That only blocks the essence, not the void. And what I want to propose requires only one. I can help you access the void.”

  A Non walks by me in ripped leather pants and flip-flops and turns her nose up. Great. She’s the one wearing leather—in August—and I’m the crazy one.

  I look around the mall. A few other people are starting to stare. “We’re done with this. I’m not interested, so stop asking me.”

  “Fine,” Lia says, “but you’re making the wrong choice. You think you can trust your own kind? You can’t. They’ve marked you, singled you out, practically sent you away. Why? I’m the only one who can help you.”

  “I don’t need you, and I’m not broken,” I snap. Lia stares at me. “You can leave now.”

  And then she flickers away.

  My phone beeps with a text from my sister.

  Got dismissed in the questioning round of testing. Not going to be an Enforcer. :(

  That makes two of us.

  …

  I sit in the grass on the hilltop and look around me. This place is beautiful. The whole city is alive at my feet and the Washington Monument rises above it all like a beacon. It will never stop being an amazing place.

  “Hey beautiful, come here often?” Carter says and I turn to see him in the distance of the trees. Under his brown leather jacket is a blue and green plaid shirt. He needs to wear plaid more often. I saw him yesterday, but it feels like longer because so much has happened today.

  “Sometimes,” I say, playing along. “But you probably haven’t noticed me.”

  Carter stuffs his hands in his pockets and moves toward me with a slight smile. It’s like this really sexy glide thing. Do guys have lessons on how to be hot?

  “I would’ve noticed you,” he says. Even though he’s playing, the words make my stomach feel like I’m floating.

  “I’m usually with my boyfriend, and he should be here any moment. You should look out for him.”

  “Boyfriend? Well, that’s a bummer.”

  “Sure is,” I say.

  “Tell me, mystery girl, would your boyfriend do this?”

  Then he’s near where I’m sitting in a second, and my heart is already pounding when he kisses me. This isn’t like the one in the alley—not as hungry and desperate and stolen in tension. This kiss is a connection. I feed into it, nipping at his bottom lip as he pulls away with a smile.

  “My boyfriend does that all the time,” I say breathlessly. I’m not sure if it is the right thing to say, but I can’t really think.

  “Good. Because you are beautiful and he should. He probably thinks about you all the time.”

  “I think about him,” I say.

  Carter smiles and pushes a piece of hair behind my ear. My heart pounding, he leans into me and runs his hand across my cheek until my chin rests between his thumb, which trails lightly over my bottom lip and makes me shiver. Man, he is so hot sometimes. Or all the time. “I love you,” he says.

  It’s not the first time Carter’s said he loves me, but each time he says it I get what those books mean. What those movies are portraying. That moment when you have wings and the whole world beneath you is rainbows and unicorns and you’re Mary-freaking-Poppins in glittery shoes living on cotton candy clouds. It’s kind of a magic that even witches don’t have. And when I look into his eyes, I see it there. It’s sort of crazy how tangible love is. I never expected that before I had it.

  “I love you, too.”

  The space between us closes. His lips are against mine again, and my tongue slides against his. My fingers roam up his neck, and my body leans into him. This is what I want. Me and Carter. Everything else can work itself out. Our bodies fold together, warmth seeps through the layers of fabric. His hand trails the line of my waist where my shirt rises, and his touch sends chills up my spine. Every part of me responds to his touch, from my head to my stomach to my toes.

  When we finally part for air, we’re both panting and I rest my head against his shoulder. His fingers lace against mine and we sit. Both of us smiling like idiots. He kisses the top of my head, and this is exactly what I needed. A break away with my boyfriend. The kissing helps.

  “How was today?” I ask him. First day on the job with his dad.

  “Less than exciting, but I have to be back in an hour for another meeting,” he says with a sigh. “I brought dinner.” He runs back across the field and returns with a picnic basket.

  He opens the basket and starts pulling out food. Some selections from each of my favorites; chips and queso from District Taco, pizza from Lost Dog Café, bacon cheddar scones from Best Buns, and ice cream from Toby’s. This is so sweet. I kiss him again.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “For that, I will do this over and over and over,” he says, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear.

  “This is the best date ever, and technically, it’s our first.”

  Carter shakes his head. “That’s not possible.”

  I nod. “We’ve never actually been on a date—unless you count training sessions, impromptu demon hunting, and nearly dying.”

  He laughs. “If you don’t count that then I definitely need to step it up. Consider me on.” He passes me the chips and queso. “What did you do today?”

  I bite my lip, everything feels like it shifted with that simple question. “I tried that whole museum thing, but it was
a bust. I had some coffee, and it was a day that everyone will be jealous of forever.”

  But all of the demon’s words play in my head. I’m the only one who can help you. Help me what? What does she know? Carter says something and then looks at me. I totally missed that. “Huh?”

  “I said, you’re still going to come with me to the Observance, right? It’s the dance of the century, according to every single person I saw today,” Carter says.

  “I wouldn’t miss it. Or you in a tux.”

  “We need to make sure we have parties all the time.”

  I shake my head. “I hate dresses.”

  Carter kisses my temple. “Come in pants or dressed as a monkey if you want. Be my date and dance with me.”

  “You don’t even have to ask.”

  “You won’t change your mind in the next twenty days, will you?”

  I smile. “Only if I get a better offer.”

  He puts a hand over his heart and falls over my legs, fake dying. I revive him with a kiss.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Carter

  “Let’s discuss the Static problem,” Dad says. He looks at me from across the room, and I sit up in the chair, pushing last night with Pen to the back of my mind so I can focus. I hate the way they call it “the Static problem.” As if it’s nothing more than an inconvenience or the flu.

  Sacra, one of the ten on the council, stands. “The people are worried,” Sacra says. “When will it affect the Statics we are close to, or the ones who are so removed from our society they aren’t even aware this is happening?”

  And so the argument continues. Here we go again. Three days of discussion and we’re still asking the same questions. I don’t mind them talking if we’re getting somewhere, but it’s all circular. The same bullshit, another way, back to the same way, another day.

  Kenneth Slade stands next. “And what will we do about it? What’s the plan? The Observance is in twenty days. How do you propose to have this settled by then, so the celebrations aren’t disrupted?”

  “This is why we have proposed the marking as a plan of action,” Sabrina says. “It makes the most sense and gives us time to figure out how to undo whatever is happening.”