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  My eyes drift up and I see Carter walking toward me. I groan, mouth full of bagel.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Pen.”

  “To think I thought the day couldn’t start off any worse,” I say.

  He smiles. Man, he does that a lot. I am either super amusing or he needs to get some funnier people in his life. “Anyone sitting here?”

  Carter doesn’t let me answer, just sweeps my feet off the chair and plops down, coffee in hand. He takes a long sip, his eyes on me. I scan the room for the quickest exit. I’ve hidden myself in the back corner and he’s blocking the only way to the door. Note to self: sit closer to the exit.

  I sigh. “What can I do for you, Carter? I’m sure you’re here for a reason—considering all the effort you must’ve put into finding me here.”

  “This is my favorite spot, and I think I recommended it,” he says.

  I shrug. “It’s everyone’s favorite.” But if he loved it, how had I never seen him here before?

  “Maybe I missed your attitude,” he says.

  I flip him off and he chuckles, which only frustrates me more. I try to play it cool, but there’s an unease in my stomach again. My eyes drift around the coffee shop to look at something. There are only other zombified people, shuffling in line to get coffee. It’s a little depressing.

  I roll my eyes. “Right. If you wanted someone to be mean to you I’m sure you could find them.”

  “But no one does it as well as you,” he says. I hate that smile. Perfect smile. Perfect lips, even if the top one’s just a little bigger. It’s cute.

  What’s wrong with you, Penelope? Drink the coffee.

  “You haven’t met the right people,” I say, glancing at my phone. Ric should be here soon and we still have forty minutes until class. I convinced him to go early with me, so I could work in the library, now that I have official access. I look back at him and expect a smile; it’s not there. He’s not kidding. Which is ridiculous. He doesn’t even know me. “I have to go. See you around.”

  I stand and swing my bag over my shoulder. Blocked exit or not, I’m getting out of here.

  Carter follows me. Past a woman with a crying baby, and an older woman trying to order in a different language. The bell dings when I open the door. It’s only two or three steps outside into the crisp morning air when he grabs my arm.

  “Just wait,” he says. There are cars beeping, moving along the streets, bumper-to-bumper in morning rush hour. Doors are opening, closing, and I’m not doing anything except standing there. Carter is waiting for something. Whatever he wants, I can’t give it. Instinct wants me to run, to kick him where it counts and take off. I can’t fully form a plan of action.

  “Look, I think we should talk somewhere. I mean I would like to talk somewhere. With you.”

  “I have nothing to offer you.”

  “Not even friendship?”

  I cross my arms. “You don’t want to be my friend.”

  “I do,” he says, stuffing his hands into his jacket.

  “Why?”

  “We can’t talk about it here, but I know I’m not wrong.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He looks around, but there’s no one else close enough to hear us. No one even notices the two of us standing there. “Meet me. Let’s talk.”

  “I’m on my way somewhere—I’m going to be late, actually.” I don’t even let him respond while I search for my car keys.

  “You seemed surprised yesterday,” he says. I turn back to him, my heart pounding a little more in my chest. “When you saw that waitress trip. It was the same expression you had on your face with the demon in the alley.”

  I shrug. Play it off, Penelope. Don’t let him know you were surprised.

  “I have a theory about you,” he says, moving toward me again.

  I open the door. “What’s that?”

  His foot shuffles on the ground and shakes his head. “We can’t talk about it here.”

  What does he think about me? What does he think he knows? Maybe it’s my magic, my response to both times I used it. He’s right. I was surprised. Shocked. He noticed that then—what else has he noticed?

  “Fine. I can’t do it until the afternoon.”

  “Three o’clock?” he says, his eyes wide. The hopefulness in his expression jars me a little.

  I bite my lip. We got out of class yesterday after two. Today may not be the same. “I don’t know yet. I’ll text you.”

  Carter raises an eyebrow, and moves so the only thing between us is the door of my car. “Nice try, but you don’t have my number, Pen.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I say again.

  “Phone,” he says. I hand it to him; he quickly types, his face slightly amused, and hands my phone back to me. He turns around to leave too. His car is in the next spot—some sexy black number. Very Batmobile meets real life.

  “Until later then, Felt Tip,” he calls to me without turning around.

  I don’t argue this time. He’s doing it just to make me mad. Which—fine. Whatever. I take a breath, slide into the driver’s seat and slam my door shut. “Stupid boys.”

  Someone pounds on the roof of my car, and I jump. “I see you’re all sunshine and fun,” Ric says as he opens the door. “Not enough caffeine?”

  “I could always use some more.”

  “It was your idea to go early,” Ric says, getting into the car. Yes, it was. It’s time to do my own form of demon tracking.

  I shrug and before he has his seat belt on I blurt out, “Do you know any witches named Carter?”

  “Carter what?”

  I pause. “I don’t know.”

  “Carter doesn’t ring any bells,” he says. I pout and he fastens his seat belt. Where did Carter come from? He must be in another school in the region. I’ve never seen him before. Ric slaps the dash of my car. “Ooh, is he hot? I knew a Carter in middle school and he was hot. Is he gay? That would be better—a hot Carter just for me.”

  “I don’t think so,” I say.

  Ric sighs. “They never are.”

  Ric leaves me off at the elevator thirty minutes early. Once he disappears down the hall, I go back down to the main floor next to the library entrance.

  The doors are oak and brass, and squeal when I push them open. I get to go inside! I have to focus so I don’t start dancing right there. I have a mission, and limited time.

  The library is a bit like a dusty old cave, except with marble columns and deep mahogany floors and chandeliers. It’s exquisite and creepy at once—and it kind of smells like feet. There’s a fat gray cat sitting at the welcome center, but there’s no librarian.

  “Hello?” I call out. All I can see are rows and rows of shelved books, longer than three football fields and still going. The cat meows at me. It has a silver tag around its neck. Hyde.

  “Are you the librarian, Hyde?” I ask the cat. I have never seen a talking cat, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen.

  Hyde meows again and jumps off the desk. I walk past the rows of books instead of down the aisles. The end is not in sight, and I don’t want to get lost in there. Rumor is that the Triad has started making things electronic, because researchers would disappear in the stacks trying to find information.

  There doesn’t seem to be anyone here. There’s so much to know about the entire history of magic and witches. Unlimited resources are in this room, and if I play my cards right, I can use them. It’s all right at my fingertips. If I can find what I need here about my demon, then maybe I can find out more about the ritual, too, and be on my way to magical normalcy.

  I move down the front of the room and check over my shoulder to make sure I can still see the desk. That’s my anchor. I find a small computer desk and sit. I need to enter my WNN pass code to access the computer and when I do it beeps—high, low, high—and opens for me.

  Search: ______

  This is great! Google for magical history! I type in Mom’s name: Genevieve Warren Grey
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  Before I’m ready her face pops up on the screen. I inhale at the sight of her beautiful smile, round brown eyes, blond curls. Under her name are articles, too. Her birth, her announcement for the Enforcer finals, her partnership announcement with a picture of her and Dad smiling, her being an Enforcer, their Bonding, my birth, lists and lists of demon attacks that she and Dad thwarted and the only one they didn’t.

  I shouldn’t have clicked that. Seeing her whole life on the screen makes me ache for the life we could’ve had with her. One she wasn’t allowed to finish because something she loved—being an Enforcer, saving people, using her magic for greatness—got her killed.

  The demon.

  Here goes nothing. If he exists, hopefully he was important enough that they put him in the database. Otherwise, I need to go searching in some books. There are a lot of books in here. Like, more than I’ve ever seen in one place. How could I ever find information there without telling the librarian what I’m looking for? There’s only one place to start.

  Azsis

  It takes the computer a few seconds to gather search results, but fifty-three items pop up. Fifty-three. That’s amazing. This may be easier than I thought before! At least I have things to read. I click on the first one, which is the Enforcer file for cataloged demons. It means someone has seen it before.

  Demon File No. 3013791: Azsis

  Known power: full range unknown

  Last seen: 01/13/2004, which means they stopped looking for him or no one has seen him since he killed my parents. That’s not encouraging. Nine years is a long time to be unseen.

  History: Rumored – discoverer of essence power for demons; fallen angel with Lucifer

  Confirmed – excellent strength and speed

  Threat level: 10

  “Do you need help with something?” a voice says from behind me. I jump up from the computer and face a man who’s shorter than me, has a round stomach, spiked gray-blue hair, and dark slanted eyes. He smiles and there’s a huge gap between his two front teeth.

  “Sorry. I—” I start. The man looks at me, waiting for an answer. I what? I was bored? I wonder if that will fly. “I’m taking my exams.”

  The man chuckles and the cat circles his feet. “Are you here on assignment?” He nods toward the computer.

  “Sort of,” I say. I quickly exit out of the screen.

  “Name’s Poncho Alistair, librarian. Something I can help you with?”

  “No,” I say. He starts to walk away and I change my mind. “I can use the resources here, right?”

  Poncho raises an eyebrow. “Depends.”

  “On?”

  He smiles. “Do you know what you are looking for?”

  “Information.”

  He picks up the cat and walks back to his desk. “Your name is?”

  “Penelope Grey,” I say.

  His eyes find mine, nose scrunched like he’s reading a book. “Owen and Genevieve’s girl?” he asks.

  “Yes sir,” I say.

  Poncho nods. “Good people. It’s a shame what happened to them.”

  His comment takes me by surprise. It shouldn’t. Mom and Dad were well-known before their death, but when others talk about them I feel like I’m missing out. “You knew them?”

  “Oh yeah,” he says. “I may not look it now, but I was someone in their circle back in the day. You say you’re in the Enforcer examinations? Following their footsteps, eh?”

  I nod silently, not really sure what to say. Yes, no, maybe. I have to pass the thing first.

  “You can be here anytime I am,” Poncho says. “And I’m always here.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “Can I help you with that information?” he asks.

  I stare at him for a moment. He’s the librarian, so he knows how to find things that I can’t. But if I tell him what I’m looking for I don’t know how he’ll respond. “I’m good for now.”

  He nods and I head to class.

  There are fifty girls left in the running for the Enforcers examination, and no more than ten of us will make it. Maple and her friends saw me come in and moved their circle around me, and now I’m sitting in the front row smack in the middle of four of my competitors. They are going on about some of the boys from their courses who are testing down the hall.

  “You know who’s smart?” Miriam, a girl with black hair and a big nose, chimes in. “Keith Collins in region two. He’s totally going to be Bonded to whoever he gets.”

  Kessa snorts. I glance sideways at her. She’s one of those super-pretty girls with curly red hair that falls below her shoulders and freckles across her cheeks. “Smart boys aren’t necessarily the best. Not when it comes down to the two of us and a demon,” Kessa snaps.

  Trina, the taller girl, shifts in her seat and pushes her glasses up to the bridge of her nose. I guess she agrees.

  “He’s good kisser,” Beth mutters. Beth’s cheeks turn bright red, making her dark eyes and hair look brighter. The other girls laugh. I’m not into any of this. I want a good partner, not a make-out buddy.

  “There’s a boy from region four—Jordan Stork—he’s really brave. His dad used to teach,” Maple says. She smiles and sips her water. “Sarah Jenks said he was a good kisser.”

  Kessa squeals. “Sarah Jenks kissed him?”

  My eyes drift to the window. I don’t know who they are talking about or even how they know each other. Our regions don’t get together that often, but even if they did, I didn’t. I was always training or studying. I don’t have time to meet people. This is my life. It isn’t about finding a boy I may or may not be Bonded with; it’s about finding demons. One demon.

  Trina squeals beside me. The other girls are whispering and I missed whatever they said. They’re all excited—hands moving as quick as their lips. I curse myself as soon as I ask them what happened. Maple leans in to whisper.

  “William Prescott is in our round of testing.” As soon as she says it, the other girls squeal again.

  I nod my head. “Good for him,” I say. I have no idea who that it is.

  All four of the girls look at me as if I have grown a second head. “You do realize how huge this is, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, sure. It’s huge for all of us,” I say, trying to play it off. I have no idea what’s happening.

  “Tell me you know who he is,” Trina says. I don’t need respond, because they all know I don’t. Kessa grabs my arm, her shimmering light-pink nails against my skin.

  “William Prescott is the only son of Victor Prescott—you know, the Triad leader?”

  I raise my eyebrows. A Triad’s son trying out for Enforcer? That’s a little strange. It’s pretty widely known that first-born children of any Triad leader or council member are automatically expected to take on the role themselves. It’s passed down as closely as our magic is. A boy trying to change that has got to mean trouble.

  “William is apparently smart and powerful. He’s at St. Jude’s,” Trina adds. Ah, the private school.

  “Not to mention rich,” Kessa adds. Definitely trouble.

  “Gorgeous,” Beth says.

  “Any girl would be beyond lucky to be Paired with him,” Maple says on a sigh.

  I scoff. “I don’t care about rich and powerful. Those qualities don’t necessarily mean he’d be a good Enforcer. I care about having someone who can back me up if I need it.”

  Kessa’s face is red, like she wants to explode or something. Even though I might actually like to witness that, I feel a little bad. Before anyone can blow a gasket, Mrs. Bentham claps her hands to get our attention.

  “Today, girls, I’m going to test your basic skills of self-defense. Each girl alone must be able to protect herself in case her partner is otherwise involved. You must be strong individually as well as together. Any girl who does not perform to perfection will be dismissed.” Mrs. Bentham calls two names—Beth is one of them—and the girls both disappear into another part of the room.

  The room is quiet while they a
re gone. Almost as if every girl is nervous to breathe. Miriam shakes her foot while we wait and stares at the door. For ten minutes. Then, the door opens and Mrs. Bentham comes out, clears her throat. “Jenna Lakes and Chrissy Jenkins.”

  The girls pass us as they move toward the door. It clicks shut, allowing the silence to resume. I guess we don’t find out who’s left until class tomorrow. I stare at my feet. Looking anywhere else makes me want to vomit.

  I’m in the sixth group that’s called to go in. The girl I’m up against, Edith Summers, is taller than me—about six foot two and fierce-looking. Her lip is slightly curled, her hair cropped short with red and black streaks. Her muscles are bigger than a lot of boys I know. She’s obviously been preparing for this, too—which means that I’m in a hell of a lot of trouble.

  Mrs. Bentham stands close enough to see us, but far enough away so she’s not in our space. “This is a non-magical sparring test. You don’t know the fighting knowledge a demon can possess, so you need to be prepared for every move. Shake hands, ladies.”

  Edith Summers could break my hand if she squeezed hard enough. That’s not intimidating at all. Nope. I bite my lip as we both get into block position. I breathe and try to focus. This is a make-it-or-break-it moment.

  Edith makes the first move before I’m ready. Her fists of fury fly at my face. My arms are there to block her. Her punch has less force than I expect, which means she’s saving it for later. I’ll have to remember that. Dad used to say that when you were facing someone bigger, you had to let your opponents wear themselves out.

  I move first. My foot shoots toward Edith’s left leg and she wobbles. She keeps herself from falling over, and when she’s regaining her balance, I strike with my other foot toward her right leg. She anticipates the move and bounces back to her left side. Missed. Edith reverses the move on me, twisting her body, and I jump over her while she’s down, so I’m behind her now.