Page 44 of Inception

“So why do you need to test my blood?”

“Because of the Cloaking Spell,” he said, peeling off his glasses and setting them down on the table. “We need to run some tests to make sure nothing’s been permanently altered before we even attempt to lift the Cloak. Should you allow us, of course.”

“Altered? Is that even a possibility?” I asked, stupidly. If he wanted to test my blood to see if it had been altered, obviously, altering was a possibility.

His regretful eyes confirmed what I had already figured.

“Okay. So how long until we can actually undo the spell?”

“Well it’s not quite that simple. As I explained before, spells cannot be undone.”

“Then how are we going to remove the Cloak?”

“Our best recourse right now is to find thetalisman. The Caster who created the Cloak most likely tied the spell to one. If the talisman is found and destroyed, then so is the spell.”

“Oh.” Interesting. “Like a magical kill switch?”

“Precisely.”

Friday night, Taylor arrived at my house in her pristine-white convertible Beetle shortly after nightfall. Her wavy blond locks were pulled back in a neat ponytail, and she was sporting a denim mini with a black and purple letterman jacket. She could have easily stood in as one of the official Bulldog cheerleaders (or Ice Girls as they prefer to be called), and no one would have been the wiser.

We took our time heading across town. Perhaps a little too much because by the time we arrived, the school parking lot at Easton Prep looked like a patchwork quilt of shimmering metal. I’d never seen so many cars crammed together in one place before, except maybe at a concert once. Taylor didn’t seem to bat a lash as she jumped in behind a stream of other cars that began parking in messy rows right there on the grass as though it were a perfectly appropriate alternative.

According to Taylor, the Weston Bulldogs and Easton Wildcats were longtime rivals, and so it really wasn’t surprising that a game between the two would draw out this many people. Especially a game where the widely known star forward was making his first post-injury appearance back on the ice.

I followed Taylor into the arena as we made our way down the grandstands of what appeared to be the visitors side, and sat down in the lower mid-section next to Ben who had saved a couple of seats for us. Nikki, Morgan and Hannah were there too, though I noted it was Morgan who was sitting next to Trace, and not Nikki. Apparently, they were still on the outs since the incident at All Saints.

As per usual, Nikki didn’t waste a chance to show her hatred for me with a flaming scowl as she barked out something along the lines of, “Who thebleepinvited her?”

I resisted the urge to chuck my cell phone at her head though I could practically feel my palms itching for it. I turned to Taylor instead. “Where’s Carly?” I asked upon noticing her absence from the group.

“On the ice.” She pointed a finger to the rink where the Ice Girls were skating. “She’s a Bulldog.”

“We all are,” leaned in Hannah. “But after Nikki got put on suspension, we decided to strike in support of her.”

“Oh, that’s...”so freaking stupid. “Nice.”

Taylor gave me a crafty side look that let me know she wasn’t part of that debacle. She rarely ever was.

“We’re petitioning the administration for a hearing,” continued Hannah. Her eyes glistened as she stared out onto the ice longingly. “Hopefully we can all be back out there soon.”

Something told me she wouldn’t be the one to make that call. In fact, something told me Hannah rarely ever made decisions about what she would or wouldn’t be doing.

I offered a sympathetic smile and then focused back in on Carly and the other girls as they skated around the ice waving at the crowd in an effort to get them amped for the game.

Across the rink, the Wildcat Girls were getting ready to put on their own show in matching brown, white and orange outfits accompanied by their official mascot—some unfortunate guy dressed in an adult sized wildcat costume—also in coordinated school colors.

“There’s Caleb!” squealed Taylor. Oddly enough, she really seemed to be into this. Or maybe she was into him. I wasn’t sure yet.

“Where?” I asked, only mildly interested.

“Owens,” she pointed to center ice. “Thirty-Six.”

“Owens? Like, Carly Owens?”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “They’re twins. Didn’t I mention that?”

“I don’t think so.” I hardly noticed a resemblance. Well, apart from the chestnut hair. And maybe the pouty lips.

---