Page 40 of The Spell Caster

“Come on out, shy little demon. I’m not mad,” I invited the empty air, patting the bed. “You did such a good job with those angels! I’d love to work together.”

An overtired, loopy giggle escaped me.

“No? All right then.” I decided it was probably best to get some sleep.

***

“Fate, what happened to your arm?” Sativa asked as she set down her handbag on the table I’d just cleared. “Did you walk into a door?”

“Something like that.” I had been on a cleaning spree since the morning. My mission was to destroy this mess before the mold gained sentience. I clasped the fragile sense of purpose like a lifeline.

Sativa sighed. “You don’t have to do all this. No one cares.”

I looked away. “It’s not like I’m doing anything else.”

“No luck, then?” She propped herself against the counter, watching me load a bag of rinsed-out containers to return to various eateries for sanitizing and reuse.

I shook my head.

Despite her assertion that no one cared, she began to help sort through a pile of papers. “Maybe you don’t need a familiar. What if you’re, like, the next evolution of witches?”

I snorted a laugh. “I doubt that.” I paused, trying to remember. “It felt… like there was something. A force outside of me creating the spell.”

“That is how it feels,” Sativa agreed, nodding.

Perching on a stool, I sat next to her. “Are you doing okay?” I asked seriously.

She widened her eyes. “Me?”

I nodded, feeling a little awkward. “You and the others. I’ve only been here a few days, but… I can see you’re not practicing casting. You haven’t picked guardians. Is something… wrong?”

Something in my recent conversation with Costi had stuck with me.

Sativa looked away in a rare gesture of self-consciousness.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Before I could finish apologizing, Oliver and Datura tumbled through the door, apparently trying to go through together instead of one at a time.

“Hey, it’s us,” Oliver said.

“Funny enough, I could tell,” Sativa deadpanned, abandoning my question.

“Here, Screwup. I brought you lunch.” Datura shoved a container and a fork at me.

I blinked in surprise. “Thanks, that’s… actually really nice of you,” I said.

Oliver gasped loudly. “No! Don’t you dare spread those kinds of rumors. My Datura is a wicked, poisonous flower.” He flung his arm around her neck and tried to pull her into a headlock.

I laughed despite myself. “Did you poison it?”

She scoffed, shoving Oliver away. “Guess you’ll find out.”

My phone started chiming, causing my heart to flip in dread. I’d been keeping it on since yesterday, when Mother had suggested that if I didn’t answer her, she would go after Costi. He’d said he wasn’t afraid, but I wasn’t about to test her.

“Excuse me,” I murmured, taking my phone and my probably-not-deadly lunch to my room. “Hello, Mother,” I said without emotion.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she said approvingly. “I have a nice surprise for you.”

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