Storm: a Salt novel (Entangled Teen) Page 17

  “I’m glad you made it home,” Pop’s voice says. I look up and he’s standing at the top of the steps, staring at me. So much for being quiet. “Deborah went to sleep only an hour ago, so you can expect to speak to her when you wake up.”

  Great. “Sorry, Pop.”

  He holds up a hand. “Are you hurt?”

  “No,” I say.

  The relief fills his face. I realize that I should be upset that I worried him, but I’m not. “Where were you?” he asked.

  I stare at him. He won’t like the answer, either, so I lie. “With Carter. Sorry, we fell asleep at his house after I went to the hospital.”

  Pop’s face snaps up to look at me. “You weren’t at the hospital, Penelope. But it was your day to check in on her.”

  I forgot about that. I was supposed to go there, but then Poncho called me in. Normally, I’d be panicky, worried that Pop is upset, but again, I wasn’t. “Pop, I can explain.”

  He shakes his head. “Save it for your grandmother.” He rests his hand on my shoulder, and the magic billows near his touch. I step back from his contact, and his eyes seem heavy. “If you’re in trouble, Penelope, you can tell us anything.”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” I snap quickly.

  Pop raises an eyebrow at the sudden outburst. I never talk to him that way. “I was at Carter’s, and that’s all. I didn’t go see Connie because I couldn’t handle it. It was a hard day, Pop.”

  My skin still crawls even when his face softens, and he pats my back. “Get some sleep.” And then he goes back into his room, leaving me feeling surprisingly okay with the lie.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Carter

  I had to go out with the Enforcers for the first markings. This whole idea is ridiculous, but I had to be there. I need to be able to tell my dad he’s wrong. I can’t do that unless I see it happening. So, I join Jordan Stark and Annah Jelowski today.

  Jordan slaps me on the back when he sees me. The guy is as big as a linebacker and Annah is this girl about half his size, short and stalky. It makes no sense for Council to appoint this to two brand new Enforcers—they were in my training class—but they did.

  “This is the first one,” Annah says. She rings the doorbell, and Jordan smiles at her. She smiles back. I feel like I’m imposing.

  With a shuffle, there’s a face in the window and then the door unlocks and a woman appears. “Mr. Prescott, what a nice surprise.”

  “Mrs. Arthur,” I say. The nice old woman from the hospital. Jordan and Annah look pleased that she knows me because this will make it easier for them. Harder for me. “Sorry to intrude.”

  She tsks and opens her door wider. “You and your friends, come on in. I’ll make some tea.”

  “We actually don’t have—”

  Jordan pushes past me. “Tea sounds great, ma’am.” He gives me a dirty look before he goes into her house. We have to mark this old woman. Last time I saw her she didn’t even have power, but I told her the Triad cared about her. They don’t. I lied. My dad has made me into a liar.

  Lindley Arthur’s house is full of books. Annah takes a few minutes to look at them all. There are books on shelves built into the walls around the house, on the floor, on the steps. Anywhere and everywhere. I pick up one that’s a compilation of three of her novels.

  Mrs. Arthur comes back and notices me looking. “I hate that cover,” she says. “A pirate series without pirates on the cover. Dreadful. You can take it, dear.”

  “You have a lot of books,” Jordan says.

  She snorts. “My to-be-read pile seems to constantly be multiplying.”

  Jordan smiles, and we all sit, crammed next to each other on her floral couch while she keeps talking about books. Annah nods along, adding a comment. Finally, Mrs. Arthur looks at me. “Why are you here? Is this about the Observance? I have my parts in the Static play all memorized.”

  “It’s not about that,” Annah says.

  Jordan sits straighter in his spot. I stare at the wall. “Mrs. Arthur, we’re here on official business. Reports have indicated that you have manifested with this new magic.”

  Mrs. Arthur looks at me. “I didn’t ask for it, it just happened two days ago, I woke up and there it was. Clear destroyed my whole bedroom wall.”

  “Yes,” Annah says. “We’re aware. The Triad has sent us to here to remedy the problem.”

  Mrs. Arthur jumps up, knocking her little coffee table out of place. “Remedy? Nothing’s wrong with me. You go. The lot of you.”

  She moves across the room, eyes wide and on alert. Jordan takes a step toward her, but I hold him back. Last time I saw a spooked Static, it was Taylor Plum—right before she killed Maple. “Mrs. Arthur,” I start. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

  Her head shakes so fast that her hair falls out of its bun. She backs into one of the stacks of books and they fall to the floor. “Leave.”

  “If you sit down then this will be less painful,” Jordan says.

  That’s the wrong thing to say. Her eyes give her away first, abnormally large and bright, then Mrs. Arthur goes ballistic on the room. The magic shoots from her fingers, knocking a chandelier from the ceiling and Annah has to jump to avoid getting hit. I move toward Mrs. Arthur, but she shoots more magic at me.

  “I trusted you.”

  The words sting, because yes, she did. And I trusted the Triad to do the right thing for once. We were both wrong.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  Before I can act, Jordan zaps her with magic and holds her in place. He and Annah start chanting the same words and the whole time Mrs. Arthur fights against their hold. Around us, the whistle of the tea kettle starts in a low tone. The lights flicker between bright and dim, and her magic shoots out from her hands, bouncing off anything, hitting anything. It’s chaos.

  “Don’t do this to me,” she yells, and then the words drift off into screaming. Then her body starts to convulse against the bookshelves.

  That’s not right. “Let her go,” I yell to Jordan over the high pitched, impatient whistle of the tea kettle.

  He and Annah stop chanting, and Mrs. Arthur falls to the ground. Her body still moves on the ground and I rush over to her. Her face is stiff, eyes bolting back and forth, but she’s unresponsive to me when I say her name or touch her.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Annah asks, her voice frantic.

  “Call someone,” I yell.

  But when her body stops moving, her face is white, and she’s ice cold.

  Lindley Arthur is dead.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Penelope

  On Monday, Lindley Arthur’s funeral is packed with witches, Nons, fans, and media coverage. I’d never met the woman before the hospital a few weeks ago, but her books are treasured by the world. I even read one or two of the ones about the little rabbit that wanted to be a duck. But apparently Gran knew her. So, she and Pop and I are packed in a pew along with what feels like every other witch in the tri-state area. There’s a tension in the air because the room is aware she died three days ago when some Enforcers marked her.

  My tension comes completely from being here with all these witches. The void has been bending more to my desires, but it’s still unpredictable. If I lost control in in here…

  Out of habit now I rub my fingers around my wrist. The guilt washes through me. I survived and she didn’t. More won’t. They wouldn’t even need to be marked if not for me.

  “Take off that ridiculous sweater,” Gran says to me, tugging at my black cardigan.

  Panic starts to bubble in my stomach, because even though the blackness is glamoured, it could disappear at any moment. I haven’t seen Lia today. With the way I’ve been using the void, the colors have spread. The possibility that someone could see if wears off is too much. No. No strong emotions. Turn them off. Don’t feel anything.

  “Gran, stop it,” I say. I try to twist in the seat to show her how impossible it would be to move my arms.

  “You’ve
got to be burning up.”

  She’s still fiddling with my sweater. Pulling at the sleeve and the center where it buttons, trying to maneuver it off. I force down the magic or the fear or whatever it is that comes creeping up.

  “Gran, let go of me.” But she doesn’t. With her pulling at my sweater, the people crowded in around me, and the anxiety and magic inside me, I’m going to lose it. “God, just stop it already.” I hiss through my teeth and jerk away from her.

  Gran’s face shifts into a look of surprise, and she drops her hand from me immediately. “What’s wrong with you?”

  I groan in response, pulling my finally freed sweater closer to myself and shifting away from her. My hands are in my lap, fingernails pressing into my palm against the magic building. I can’t lose control in this room. I take long breaths until the rush of my magic feels normal again.

  “I don’t understand why she’s wearing that thing in August.” Gran whispers back to Pop after a beat. And by whisper I mean says it loud enough that I can hear.

  “Leave her alone,” Pop says.

  “I’m cold,” I say, fingers still pressed in my fist.

  “She’s cold, Deb. Let her be,” Pop says in that completely pleasant yet completely forceful way. Gran crosses her arms as Pop rests a hand on her knee. He whispers in her ear and it makes her smile and pat his hand.

  A feeling settles in my stomach again. Uncertainty. Doubt. Anxiety. This is the right thing to fix the mess I’ve made, but it’s going to cost me my family. Everyone I am trying to protect will turn their back on me. When all of this happens, when I become a demon, they’ll never understand it. Maybe Gran will think it’s because of the secret with Emmaline Spencer. The one Gran kept the truth about our demonic heritage. I’ve given them no clues, left them no reasons. I look sidelong at Gran. This will kill her, thinking that she failed me somehow by letting this happen. But Connie will be alive, so maybe that will be enough, and when I’m done, I’ll come back to them. Then I can explain it all and ask for their forgiveness. Maybe they’ll love me enough to give it to me.

  I look up feeling someone stare at me. It’s Carter from the front of the room, next to his dad, and he smiles back in my direction. I force my best smile out, and even from across the room I can tell that he doesn’t buy it as real.

  I’m also going to lose him. He’ll never understand, never forgive me. The smart thing to do is to end it now, but I can’t do that. I need him. He’s the only thing that makes me still feel like myself.

  The priest stands in front of the crowd, and I watch the back of Victor’s shoulders for any extra tension. This funeral is for Lindley Arthur, a famed author, and not the funeral of a Static. Victor Prescott’s probably glad of it. This way no one can speak out against the Triad in a public way. No one would dare, not with the media. It would expose us.

  “It is with a heavy heart we all gather to say good-bye to a woman who changed the face of children’s literature. But beyond that, a woman who loved fiercely and died too early.”

  Because of me, I think.

  …

  I see Carter again afterward in the reception hall, standing next to his father. Even though it’s a funeral, they both seem to be “on” today. Aside from the dark circles under Victor’s eyes, you wouldn’t be able to tell that anything else was happening. Carter waves at me when some bald guy walks away. I take a step toward them but when Victor sees me, he pulls Carter in the opposite direction. Oo-kay then.

  I should go after them to show him that I don’t go away that easy.

  Three steps toward where they stand, and Pop grabs my arm. “We have to go,” he whispers.

  “Already?” I ask.

  His blue eyes are trimmed in red. I can’t tell if it’s from crying or from trying not to. “It’s your sister.”

  That’s all I need to hear. We maneuver through the others and Gran’s already at the door waiting for us. We’re in the car about to back out when Carter appears at my window. Pop rolls it down for him, and Carter stares among the three of us.

  “What’s wrong?

  I stare at him, trying to speak, but I don’t have an answer yet. None of them want to come out of my mouth.

  Luckily I don’t have to say anything. Pop does.

  “It’s Connie. We have to go.”

  I try to keep my emotions down. I can’t lose control of the magic.

  “You want me to come with you?” He’s asking me this, but I can’t…I don’t know. And then the magic I’m forcing down mingles with my own fear about my sister. I look at Carter again, waiting for an answer, and I’m annoyed at him for delaying us. For trying to make me choose between him and her. Whether it’s the magic or really me, I feel a sudden surge of anger toward him. The magic wants me to release it, to allow it seek vengeance for whatever I’m feeling. Part of me knows all of this doesn’t make sense, but the other part, the part the magic connects with, doesn’t care one iota.

  “We have to go,” I shout.

  Pop must take that a sign because he backs the rest of the way out of the spot. Carter watches after us and gets his keys from his pocket, because I see him through the back window of the car. He’s going to come.

  As he disappears, so does my anger. The magic lulls itself back into that place where it hides until it’s trying to destroy my life.

  I really could use him with me in case she’s…Oh God I can’t even think that. Don’t think that.

  But when I glance back out, Victor is standing next to him. They look like they’re fighting, but then I’m too far gone to see anything else.

  …

  The doctor is waiting for us in Connie’s room when we get there. The beeping is the first thing I notice. It’s always first. If it’s beeping then she’s breathing, then her heart is working and she’s alive. I exhale a little when I hear that annoyingly beautiful sound. Then I realize that she’s really pale today and there’s a new tube running down her throat.

  “What’s happening?” Pop asks.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Warren, it’s good you’re here. Constance had a seizure today. We were able to stabilize her, but once we did her lung collapsed. That new tube is assisting her in breathing until we’re able to fix her lung.”

  “So, fix it.”

  “We can’t until we’re sure she’s able to maintain stability.”

  “She was doing better,” Gran says. “You said she was doing better.”

  “She had been, but now she’s rejecting the previous treatment. Honestly, if she keeps progressing at this rate there won’t be much more we can do aside from make her comfortable.”

  “Make her comfortable?” Pop repeats.

  “You mean give up on her,” I snap. They’re suggesting we let her go. The doctor looks away from me, and toward my grandparents.

  “Based on the information Penelope gave us before, we believe demon’s magic did this. A demon’s magic, when used in this direct way, is poisonous to a witch. Pure void is too strong for our hearts. If this is what happened, then it’s a miracle she’s even survived this long. We’re really doing all we can.”

  “Do more,” Gran says. “Whatever it takes. Do whatever it takes.”

  “There are limits to both magic and medicine, Mrs. Warren.”

  “She’s our granddaughter, so with all due respect, screw the limits. She’s sixteen years old. Figure it out,” Gran says.

  The room is quiet for a good minute before the doctor excuses himself. I stare at my sister. She can’t die. I’m doing all of this for her. I’ll practice more. I’ll talk to Lia and we’ll move the timeline up. I will save her. I have to. It’s on me.

  Wordlessly, I turn to leave. I’m going to find Lia and make it known that I am tired of waiting. We can do the ritual early. Surely, the extra power of the Observance isn’t so much that—

  “Where are you going?” Gran asks.

  I turn around at the door. “I just—I need to think.”

  Gran doesn’t like that answer. She strid
es toward me in large steps until we’re maybe a foot apart. The magic is already on the defensive, waking up again. “Think? Your sister is dying and you need to think?”

  Pop reaches out for her. “Deborah, hold it now.”

  “No, you hold on. Both of you. She’s never around anymore. The least you can do is be here, right now. My family has been tormented by demons my whole life. My daughter died from a demon attack. You were nearly killed by one, and now Connie here is fighting for life. I understand more than anyone in this room, and you can’t leave right now to think.”

  I want to touch her, but I don’t trust the void. “She’s going to be fine, Gran.”

  Gran huffs, neck turning red like it does when she’s really angry. “Like you are? I’m glad you’re alive—Lord knows my heart couldn’t handle both of you still being in these beds.”

  Gran reaches out for me, and I take a step back. She doesn’t pause when I do. The pain is there anyway. “You’re the only other person who was there with her. If you suspect something else that you’re not saying, if something happened, then tell us now.”

  I do because I did it. However, I can’t say that. If I tell her what’s going on, what I’m going to become, she’ll lose it. “I don’t,” I say instead and feel all my old guilt and my new lies with an insane amount of pressure on my heart.

  Gran tosses her hands up. “Who are you these days? Sneaking around, out all hours of the day and night. We know you’re not an Enforcer, Penelope.”

  My heart races and the magic stirs. My mind is trying to catch up. I was careful. Someone betrayed me. “What?” I shout.

  “Where are you going?” Gran practically spits the words at me.

  Anger fights toward the surface like an oasis in the desert. Brief, unexpected, quenching. “How do you know that?”

  Gran points toward Pop. “Frank found out last week. What’s happening and why would you even try to keep this from us?

  I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to strangle someone. It’s a barbell pressed down on my chest, a drumming in my head, a nagging at my fingers to let go, a crack of light in a dark room. I want to let the anger out so it can consume them. “Gran you don’t understand.”