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  “I did it, Connie. Me.”

  She looks around the alley and harrumphs, bracelets clinking together as she moves her hands around and mutters an incantation. The mess of demon guts disappears around us. I look at my little sister. There are only eleven months between us, though sometimes it feels like decades. She doesn’t believe me. Not that I blame her. I probably wouldn’t believe me if I hadn’t done it.

  “How did you do it alone?”

  I smile at her. “I think I found the demon.”

  Connie stares at me, like she’s not sure if I’m real or not. “The demon that—”

  “Ours. Mine. The one that took my power.”

  Chapter Two

  I glance out the window of the garage. I can see Connie sitting in the backyard; she’s sprawled out on the grass, and she’s waving her phone in the air. She wants me to read the messages she’s been sending but I already know they mean she’s done trying. I refuse to give up. I refocus on the shelf in front of me, perfectly lined with all the things I’ve been trying to blow up. Or move. Or levitate. At this point I’d settle for making them glow. I call on the magic, but all I feel is nothing. And it’s annoying.

  Two hours ago, I expelled a demon. I had magic all on my own. And now? Now it feels like that moment right before my first kiss, after three torturous weeks of listening to Jason Prevoy talk about his car, only to learn too late that he slobbered like a Saint Bernard. That poor purple sweater never recovered.

  I count to three and try again, reciting every spell I can think of and focusing so hard I probably look constipated. Then the objects start to move, and for a second I believe I’m doing it. Then Connie barges in through the back door the same moment a paint bucket topples to the ground.

  I turn to her and groan. “Con, I wasn’t done! Go back out there.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but you’ve been trying to blow up that vase for two hours, Penelope.” Connie grabs my hand. In a moment the vase shatters to pieces and I pull my hand away, but she looks satisfied. “Can we admit that maybe it didn’t happen like you think?”

  “I was there. I expelled him, Connie. Demon guts and all.”

  “Maybe it was—”

  “It wasn’t,” I yell a little too loudly. When Connie yells, sometimes the house shakes. I want that. I feel so ineffective.

  Connie touches my arm, causing a little prickle of magic within me. It’s gone as soon as she lets go. Is my magical worth going to be tied to my baby sister forever? If it is, then I am not okay with that. I’ve already had to share a last name, a birth year, a grade, and a classroom. I need this to be my own.

  “Maybe it was a fluke. We’ve tested your magic before and we both know it doesn’t work alone,” she says.

  I press a hand to my temple, a dull ache starting to form. I’ve been thinking too hard today.

  Every month that first year we realized I didn’t have magic on my own anymore, my family “experimented.” I had some small sliver of essence inside me that connected to my family. I could touch any of them and have power. Gran or Pop could be in the same room, and I could pull my magic from them. Connie could be anywhere in the same twenty feet and six inches of space as me and I could pull from her. But one centimeter beyond that twenty feet and sixteen inches and I had nothing. That’s why I made her wait on the other side of the yard while I tried in the garage: it’s the exact distance away that our powers don’t connect.

  “You were nowhere near me. You said so yourself.”

  “It wasn’t you, Penelope. I know you don’t want to hear that, but look at the evidence,” Connie says.

  She’s right: I don’t want to hear that my magic doesn’t work. I’m tired of it not working. I want to be able to blow up things, move things, and save people anytime I want. Obviously, I can’t. There’s a line of evidence stretched out before me on a shelf and the floor: an old TV, a bucket of paint, and pieces of the vase. They all mock me. They’re all waiting for me to destroy them with my Jedi mind tricks. Lucky bastards get to live a little longer.

  “I’m going to get my magic back for real,” I say softly. Connie looks at me in that way that only she can do, a cross between worrying and encouraging that makes me question my sanity, but this time I stand firm. Even her looks can’t sway me. “I’m going to become an Enforcer and then find that demon; I’m going to get my power back.”

  It’s been my plan all along, since that first year when nothing worked. Inside the Nucleus House, home of everything in the magical community, there’s a library. The library has what I need. But I need special access in order to enter, and being an Enforcer is the only way to get inside. Getting into the library will allow me to find my demon and to get my magic back. It’s a solid plan; I’ve been working toward this for years. Mostly solid, I guess, because I have no control over my success.

  “You don’t even know if that will work, Penelope. The whole magical restoration ritual could be a trap.”

  “It’s not. I’ve been researching the ritual. It’s real,” I say.

  I need to believe it. When I was nine, a demon killed my parents and stole my essence, my source power. Witches die if they lose their essence. I didn’t. Why that happened we have no idea. What I do know is that I will get my magic back. All I have to do is find which demon it was. Once I know that, I can focus on understanding and completing the ritual I’ve discovered that will give me my magic back.

  Before the ritual, before anything, I need the demon. To get the demon, I need to be an Enforcer, with access to the library. I believe that demon is out there, and it will make itself known sometime. I just have to wait for it all to come together.

  I also believe Zac Efron will come to town and fall madly in love with me, so maybe I’m just too hopeful.

  “We’ll find it.” Connie smiles. It doesn’t stretch across her whole face and her cheeks turn red, which is a sign she’s lying. I don’t blame her; it’s a lot to hope for.

  A cell phone vibrates and Connie’s switch to a cheesy grin reveals that it’s a text from Thomas. They’re that sickeningly cute couple that everyone love/hates. I sigh and go inside. As soon as I open the door, I smell blueberry pie. Delicious. Gran used to make cake, prize-winning gorgeous cakes, but she stopped after Mom died. She said pies were easier since she had us now, but I think cakes make her miss Mom. It was the thing they did together.

  “Girls?” Gran calls out as I slide off my pink glitter flats, sans demon guts.

  Connie answers her, jumping around on a foot to take off her heeled boots. How does she walk in those things? She stumbles and holds on to me for support.

  “You have a weird look on your face. Don’t act weird or she’ll know something happened today,” she whispers in my ear. Her tall black shoe falls to the ground, then she switches feet.

  “I’m not making a face,” I snap. Connie tosses the other to the ground. She’s three inches shorter than me now without them on—like she’s supposed to be.

  “You so are,” she says.

  I move past my sister and hang my bag on the end of the banister.

  “Can one of you run across the street before you’re settled? We’re out of milk,” Gran calls. Her voice is muffled below us, so she must be in the basement doing laundry.

  Connie and I both groan. Gran’s style is more tell than ask. Non-optional suggestion, Mom used to call it. Connie holds out her fist toward me, and I do the same. Rock, paper, scissors. There’s no debate that this can’t settle.

  Luckily for me, Connie alternates her pick. Two days ago it was rock, so today, that means paper—but she knows that I will suspect that. So, she’ll think about picking scissors to thwart me, which of course I will know too. Then she’ll revert to her original decision and choose rock.

  “Dang it,” she yells at me. I smile and make sure to flash a little extra triumphant pride. She sticks her tongue out at me. “For that I’m taking your shoes!”

  “Don’t!” I protest. The door slams. />
  She knows I love those shoes.

  “There’s blueberry pie on the table,” Gran yells up. I grab a knife and pour myself a glass of water because doing nothing for two hours is exhausting and completely deserving of a snack.

  Next to the pie, a large stack of mail sits in two little piles. Under an upside-down black envelope, some ten-second celebrity flashes white teeth in my face. That would be Connie’s mail. I grab my mail and flip through it quickly. Something catches my eye—my own black envelope with the mark of the Triad on the front, three triangles connected by a circle. This is it! The announcement for my Enforcer examination! I rip the envelope open and scan the page.

  Dear Miss Penelope Grey,

  We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the privilege of taking your CEASE Squad Enforcer Examination this month. Our records indicate high markings from your past academic year and the council was impressed with your exit interview. Your instructors feel you are ready to attempt the next level. Region-wide testing begins July 3. Of those applicants, ten from each region will be Paired with a partner from one of the seven regions. These examinations will set you on a path that extends far beyond your senior year.

  I stop reading because this can’t be real. This is the first step I’ve been waiting for all my life, or at least the last four years. Being an Enforcer gets me on the inside, gives me tools and files and access to track down my demon.

  This moment would’ve made Mom proud. This was her life, except for us. If I can be an Enforcer too, if I can honor her—and I can get my magic back—then that will be all I need. Finally.

  I race to the living room and grab my phone. I have to tell my best friend, Ric, that Connie and I are in for July’s test! Since we’re not in the same special topics class at school, Ric’s test must be in August. They stagger us that way, because they can only test so many at a time.

  Enforcer Test in July! Woo!

  We have three classes of special topics at school. The Nons think ST is just some hard, boring class nobody in their right mind would sign up for, but it’s really how we have training lessons at school—and how the Triad narrows down who will take the Enforcer examinations. They make every witch in the country take the class from elementary school until junior year.

  Before summer, I had my exit interview with the council about what I looked for in a partner. I’d looked at them, smiled, and said, “I want someone who isn’t afraid to go after what’s right.” They didn’t seem impressed with my response so I added, “And someone who can kick my ass in a fight.” Not the best response, but some of the council laughed. I guess it was enough to count.

  That interview, paired with our overall class grade and ranking, is what determines who takes the Enforcer exam. They always keep people from the same class together, and can unite us with anyone who makes it from the other regions. And I’m moving forward!

  My magic could be closer than I dreamed. Especially now. I shake off my frustration from the past two hours. Whatever happened with my weird magic thing is over because this letter just fixed everything. I’m one step closer, and if I make it past the exams and get Paired, then that’s two steps closer. The third step is being put with a partner, and together we earn an Enforcer badge. With an Enforcer badge comes the clearance to gather all the materials needed to find the demon, and perform the ritual that returns my magic.

  And then I’m normal.

  I squeal again. I swear I’m not usually the type—especially twice in one day—but I want this. I can do this. We’re tested in four areas before the Pairing and then the Partner final, and I can pass with Connie’s magical help. We won’t be Paired together—it’s always boy/girl partners—but we’ll be in the same room for the tests. I can pull magic from her just like always, until all the steps are in place for me get my own magic back. Right now, this step is all that matters: take the test, search for the demon.

  “What’s going on?” Connie asks, when she gets back home and comes into the kitchen. I stare at her from across the room and shake my lovely little precious letter in the air. Her eyes widen, even though there’s no way she can see it. She knows there’s only one thing that matters that much, to make me act that way. “We’re in for the exam?”

  Connie abandons the milk on the coffee table. She’s the one who squeals this time, which is more expected. She hugs me. “Where’s mine?”

  “Table!” But she’s already ripping the envelope open. My phone vibrates.

  U sure that’s right? I got my letter today 2. July test.

  Yes, it has the date.

  But there’s no way. Ric isn’t in my class, and they would never mix classes.

  Weird. You and Con both?

  Yes, I type. But then I glance into the kitchen, and Connie is really quiet. Something bad settles in my stomach, and she’s not smiling. My sister’s default mode is smiling.

  “Connie?” I ask, almost afraid to move toward her because this day sucks so much. “You’re taking the exam, right? Please say you’re taking the exams.”

  If she’s not in the room with me, then I’m not going to have magic. She’s always with me, and I need her now or everything I’ve worked for is gone.

  “I’m taking it,” she says.

  Thank God.

  “Next month.”

  I blink at her. Obviously, I am losing my mind and hearing things that aren’t real. “Repeat?”

  “I have the test in August.”

  August?

  There’s no way. I can’t take this without Connie. That was the one perk of being in the same grade as my younger sister: testing together.

  I look back down at my letter and scan past the parts I’ve already read. …far beyond your senior year. You will not be tested with the rest of your class. Due to an injury that resulted in surgery, another student can’t perform the July testing and will be taking the examination next month with your course. We do apologize for any inconvenience, but we are confident that you will still excel.

  I’m so beyond screwed. I’m like that guy who wanted to fly and had a pair of wings made out of wax. I’m sure he had a heck of a good time in the air, living his dream, flying next to the sun. Right until he fell out of the sky. And drowned.

  “It’s going to be fine,” Connie says, grabbing my hand.

  Oh, it’s going to be a lot of things, but “fine” isn’t one of them.

  “What’s going on in here?” Gran asks.

  I pass Gran my letter and her eyes grow wider as she reads the invitation. She reaches a hand out toward the wall to hold herself up. I don’t know how I’m standing either. Everything seems to be slightly off its axis, and any second now I’m going to fall.

  “Well,” she says, pushing her glasses up on her nose. “That’s only two days from now. They usually give more notice.” Gran glances between Connie and me before she sets the paper on the back of the couch. “Did you get yours, Connie?”

  “For August.”

  Gran snorts. Ah, there’s the sea that’s going to swallow me up. “Then I’m not sure how you think you’re going to get past this point, dear. For the first few days, you’ll be safe, but then it’s magic, and you have limitations. You gave it a nice run, Penelope, but now you have to find a new path.”

  Connie clears her throat. “She can still pass. I’ll find a way to be there for the magic test, and she can still pull it from me. We’ll get a new plan. I’ll hide in the closet or something. No one will know I’m even there.”

  Gran crosses her arms. “And if she passes? Or gets made an Enforcer? Will you just follow her around forever, Constance?”

  Connie and I share a look. Gran doesn’t know about my quest to retrieve my magic. She’d think I was mental, or tell me it as too dangerous. I try to think of a new plan for Connie to be there. The order of the tests runs through my head: history, fighting, weapons, magic. I don’t need her until the fourth day. And then it’s the Pairing, and two weeks together before the Partner final.
She can be there for a reason; no one will have to know the real one. Yeah. This is good, we can do this.

  “It’s going to be fine, Gran,” I say.

  She raises an eyebrow at me. “Penelope, this is dangerous.”

  I’ll just have to move up the search about my magic, and maybe the information about my demon will be easy to access. I have six more days until the magic testing portion. Miracles happen. If a geeky boy can be bitten by a spider and learn to scale walls, I can do this. I’ve made it this far. I can fight; I’m smart. This is what I’ve been working toward forever. Connie and I can practice. I can pass the magic test and the whole exam.

  I can do it. Gran’s doubt will not sway me. Not now.

  “What happened to all your speeches about it being ‘an honor to serve the Triad and the Nons’?” I ask, interrupting whatever rant she’s on. She sends me the death glare because Gran hates being interrupted, but it’s too late now, so I keep talking. I’m already going to regret it later, so give me some bacon on those cheese fries. “You didn’t protest when they wanted to Bond me. Why’s this any different?”

  The way Gran looks at me—like I’m completely insane—is alarming. She should know how much this means to me. I didn’t mean to throw the Bonding in her face, but I didn’t want to be married. Even if the Triad “selected” me for the privilege. Being chosen at sixteen to be married at eighteen is stupid. I’d said no. I didn’t want to be chosen for something like that, something I didn’t want, and she never even suggested it for Connie. I want this. I always have, even if she hasn’t. I fought tooth and nail to get out of the Bonding; I will most definitely fight tooth and nail for the thing I want. I won’t let not having magic stop me.

  Gran huffs. “It is a great honor. I’m saying you need to be realistic.”

  “Realistic?” My voice sounds a little too high to be normal. I open my mouth, close it, then turn on my heels and march up the steps. Gran is right behind me. Tears burn at my eyes, but I will not let them come out.

  Gran puts a hand on my shoulder. I jerk away.