Page 43 of Practically Witches

Lacey rolls her eyes at him. “Useless as usual.” She moves to stand nearer to me. “About an hour ago, there was a flash of energy and one of the lights blew out. Like that night.” We all know exactly what night she’s talking about. The night the syphoner stole Ariya Glover’s magic.

I nod. An hour ago could mean that the syphoner isn’t here anymore, but I still feel the magic.

Zane puts his hand on my shoulder. “You can’t do this,RJ. We don’t have the scepter or the spell. What if she takes your magic?”

I should tell him that my magic isn’t in danger because I don’t have any, but I’m still a big fat liar which is also apparently a family trait.

Instead, I look up at him, see his concern and falter. But I have to do this. I don’t have another choice. “I’ll be careful. I just want to see her.” The pulse of Aimee’s magic is stronger now, and I move toward where I think it is. Zane follows, his hand still on my shoulder.

I try to stop him, want to send him back because he could very well be in danger. He is vulnerable to a syphoner, but I’m not. I can’t let him go with me. I stop walking, although the pulse is like a second heartbeat in my chest now.

Overhead, there are small can lights that flash in time to the music, and the one directly above me brightens and then explodes. I turn because the pulse is painful now, and I am between the syphoner and Zane. I see the ropes of power coming and I move to block Zane but he shoves me from behind and I stumble, trip, crash hard to the floor on my knees. The ropes from Zane to the syphoner are glowing with his power.

I have to stop it. I can’t let her have his power.

“Get off him!” I don’t have any magic to throw at her so I use my body, trying to break the cords, but then I feel his magic flowing into me and I have to break away. I can’t take his magic. I don’t know a lot of things, but the one that sticks with me in this moment is that I will have to die to give it back to him.

The syphoner runs out, zigging and zagging between the people on the dancefloor on her way to the door. I want to chase her but I can’t leave Zane on the floor. Heneeds to get to my mother, for whatever potion she gave Aimee.

I put my arms under his and use every bit of strength I have to help him to his feet. Colt steps forward to take half Zane’s weight. He’s weak and stumbling when I help him to his feet and now there are no sparks when we touch.

Damn. It was the magic, after all. I’ll lament later, but right now, I have a syphoner to chase.

Colt tries to lower Zane onto a stool that Lacey brought out, but I have to get us out of here, find the syphoner, and save the magic world before this bitch of a syphoner drains them all dry. I don’t have time for Zane to take a rest to recover. I’ll get him to my mother. He isn’t unconscious, just weak which is a good sign. I hope.

“Where are you going?” Colt shouts at me over the throb of techno music and feet clicking on the concrete floor.

“Outside,” I yell back and continue pushing through the heavy crowd. Every couple steps I take, I look over at Zane. He’s definitely not getting better, not rebounding, and I’ll be lucky to get him back to my mom in time.

I can’t think about that now. I have to get to the door, get him some air, put him in his Jeep and get the hell out of here. The bead on Aimee’s magic is gone, too. I don’t feel it anymore. Probably because the syphoner layered Zane’s on top of it. And without his magic, I have nothing to leech off to find it or the syphoner.

We finally get Zane to the parking lot and strapped into the front seat of his Jeep. I won’t be able to drive as fast as I would like because the goddamned Jeep doesn’t have its doors on. Earlier, I’d thought it was cool to ride that way. I’d loved the open air, felt free not worrying about the knots in my hair or the windburn. But now, it annoys me.

I pull out of the parking lot onto the road and speed toward the highway. “Where the fuck would she go?” And like the universe is on my side, like there’s some mystical force that wants me to win this battle, a picture of the Institute flashes up onto the windshield in living fucking color. It startles me enough I jerk the wheel hard and we skitter to the side of the road. I grab a hold of Zane’s shirt and hold him so he doesn’t fall out. I can’t be responsible if a seatbelt fails, but he isn’t falling out on my watch.

I skip the highway exit for home and go two more miles in the relative darkness of only the occasional passing headlight to the exit for the Institute. There’s no way for me to know how far behind the syphoner I am, but I’ve broken all the speed laws I could break but now, I’m stuck in town traffic which isn’t much more at this time of night than a couple cars heading to their late night/early morning jobs, and the few people who don’t hide their drinking at home but drink at one of the pubs and have finally decided to call it a night.

It’s enough to change green lights to red and slow me down.

“Come on, come on, come on.” I wait, foot tapping against the floor of the Jeep while I wait to be granted permission. Zane lurches backward, his head thrown against the seat as I stamp the gas pedal and zoom forward.

The Institute looms in the distance. Large. Imposing. And dark. All the things even a witch hates about going somewhere in the night. Even a witch with power wouldn’t be excited about running into a syphoner, but for one without who is supposed to put an end to the reign of terror of another, it’s fucking terrifying.

I don’t have a wand or scepter or whatever tool I should have for the job. I don’t have enough magic in me to ignitethe spell without the magic of another to help me out. In short, I don’t have a prayer. All I know for certain is that I have to stop her. And I have to do it quickly, quietly, and without a single bit of fanfare that might identify me as one of her species.

Sure. No fucking problem.

I whip the Jeep into Zane’s normal parking spot just down from an old Chevy and for a second I wonder why the syphoner parked the car instead of pulling it in front of the school. I also wonder why I did. In hindsight, it seems like pulling up to the building might’ve been faster. But it’s too late now.

I look at Zane—the way the moonlight casts a halo on the top of his head, the way he’s slumped in his seat like he’s asleep. He’s still visible and that’s dangerous considering what we’re doing here.

Like I’m an angry parent disciplining a misbehaving child, not one who’s asleep, which in this situation could also double for passed out, I push him down in the seat. “Wait here.” I don’t know that he can move on his own, although I probably don’t have to worry about it since his head is lolling and it would take physical maneuvering of his arms to work the seatbelt, and I don’t think he’s capable.

I roll out of the Jeep and run toward a strange shadow—it could be an anomaly of magic or light—at the base of building two. When I get there, a piece of the ground is dug up and a corner of the building is missing. Not a piece, but the entire corner, and I don’t have to guess what was there. I know already. The dedication stone, the one infused with the magic of the first families.

Son of a bitch.

I say the words aloud, then silently, then aloud again asI stand staring at the stone like I can make it appear through the force of my will. Spoiler: I can’t.

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