Page 15 of The Spell Caster

“Hey! Maybe you are my cousin.” He looked Costi up and down with a chuckle. “Maybe not. My cousins are all short.”

Costi gave a half grin at his antics.

“What part of Greece are you from?”

“Not sure, really.” Costi shrugged. “I don’t remember much. I left when I was seven, don’t know my family.”

“That’s a sad thing. You don’t speak any Greek?”

“I remember some prayers and songs and stuff. Can’t speak it at all.” Costi pushed up the hair at the back of his neck.

“Let’s hear,” the man said eagerly. “I can tell you north or south, maybe.”

“It’s probably awful,” Costi muttered.

“Come on, give it a try,”

Shrugging, Costi sang a quick phrase, beautiful words tumbling from his lips that tugged at my soul. I didn’t think I’d ever heard him sing before. That voice. Low and raw, like he’d been screaming.

Fate, he should be a singer.

He’d never mentioned that he remembered any Greek. It was a travesty that he didn’t know more. It sounded like putting words to magic. I absolutely loved it.

“Ah? So bad I can’t understand it,” the man laughed. “Is that supposed to be Greek?”

Costi shrugged with a good-natured smirk. “Told you.”

The man helped us order, and soon we were scooping foods from way too many dishes, each one more delicious than the last. I could get used to the food outside.

“Costi,” I started as he finished the food I had given up on. All that muscle must have required a ridiculous amount of fuel. “Do you… I mean, when you were little, were you there? During the attack?”

He raised his eyes to me, putting down his spoon. “I must have been, but I don’t remember anything. Maybe they hid me. I’m not traumatized.”

“You spent our entire childhood mouthing off, fighting, and getting in trouble,” I pointed out with a flat look.

Costi gave me a wicked half grin, and my heart tripped over itself. “Nah, that’s not trauma. I’m like that naturally.”

I quickly looked down at my plate, disturbed by my reaction. “What… what do you remember? If you want to tell me…”

He was thoughtful for a moment. Tinny pop music played softly in the background. “I think about it a lot, but there’s not much. I remember my mom. She liked singing—she taught me a lot of little songs. We lived by the ocean, but the water was a lot bluer than back at the Northern Sea. Warmer, more sun.”

I felt a twinge of sadness. It sounded like a happy life that had been stolen from him. “Do you remember coming to the Circle?”

Costi shook his head. “I remember you, though, in the park. You were so tiny. I just wanted to… I don’t know… protect you or something. I think I had a little sister, and you reminded me of her.”

My heart warmed. It was my earliest memory, playing in the park with Costi. I hadn’t heard the full story until I was older—how the adults had realized that he wasn’t anyone’s child and couldn’t speak English. At first, they thought he had wandered in from outside, but he had the look of witches with his dusky skin and light eyes, and he could sense magic.

The attack in Greece had happened only weeks before—it was all too clear what had occurred. Someone had abandoned him in the American Circle that was easiest to get to from Europe. We never found out who or why. They never came forward. As far as anyone knew, Costi was the only survivor of that tragedy.

Diana Blackthorn, an older witch who hadn’t ever wanted a partner or her own children, fostered Costi until he was old enough to join the guardians.

“I never knew. I’m sorry you missed growing up with them. Your mom and little sister.”

I wondered if anyone had gone back to investigate. What went so completely wrong that the angels were able to raze that Circle to the ground? Had it been the same as Northern Sea? Was there anything left? Records or something?

Costi shrugged. “I got to grow up with you.”

After he had scraped every dish clean and been teased for it by the shopkeeper, we got back in the car. The highways turned to hills as the daylight turned gold and slipped away, and we finally passed the sign that declared “Welcome to West Virginia.”

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