Page 233 of Castings & Curses

Some subspecies of magical fungi required delicate underground climates in order to grow. I’d had a class last year that focused on such conditions and spent a whole lot more time than I’d have liked on the third sub-basement level of Greenhouse Twelve at the southeast end of campus. But this wasn’t Fungi Growth & Development, and Mabe was not an earth witch.

“Where are you taking me?” I demanded with more vigor.

“Hold on,” she mumbled, and I noted her skin started to glow with runes as she whispered a chant.

“Mabe? Stop right now.

Oh my Goddess!”

I bit back a scream, certain she was going to get us killed crashing into the brick wall at the end of the old, abandoned hall. But instead, the wall gave way, and I found myself in an old room that had been fixed up with a string of lights and a small cot.

Heart pounding, I jumped out of the wheelchair, mindful of the stretching pain of the stitches in my back. A suitcase sat on the floor, books, shoes, and a half a bottle of soda on the floor next to an unopened packet of crackers. I’d never seen such a pitiful looking room.

“Just take it easy,” Mabe said, and I noticed her eyes glowing red around the rims.

“What is this, Mabe?”

“Look, I was supposed to room with you in 563W, but I took off that first day, remember?”

“Of course I remember, but why did you kidnap me—”

“Oh please, you’re a little old for kidnapping,” she scoffed, and I hated to admit, she was right.

“Mabe,” I said, clearing my throat and careful not to step too close to whatever was skittering in the corner of the room. “Why did you bring me here?”

The slender witch closed her eyes and puffed out a breath. I could tell she hated the idea of revealing whatever deep, dark secrets she had that led her to take me from the infirmary, but it was clear she wasn’t going to hurt me.

At least, not yet.

“What I told you about Professor Armstrong inviting me to participate in a work-study program here at Westwood is true, but I didn’t mention why.”

“Okay, so tell me,” I said, encouraging her.

I don’t know why I wasn’t more worried about my safety, but from the look on Mabe’s pale face, that witch looked more desperate than I had ever seen. She was thinner than last time and had a haunted look in her eyes.

“What do you know about what is happening to magic?”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“It’s disappearing. I mean, we always knew there was a finite amount, but it was constantly being recycled, replenished, reused whether by descendants of the first user, or taken back into the cosmos and sent here again.”

“What, um, what are you saying?” I asked nervously.

“I’m saying something is very wrong with magic, and it’s having a really bad effect on me,” she whispered.

Her gaze darted down, and I noticed rune-like tattoos circling her wrists. She rubbed them, as though they itched, and the shapes took on a strange fiery glow. I gulped, unsure what they meant, but I was almost certain it wasn’t good.

“Mabe? Why are your eyes glowing like that? And what the heck is up with your teeth?”

“Fuck, I’m starving. Shit! Jade, stay back!”

I screeched as I walked backward to get away from Mabe. Suddenly, someone burst through the same magical portal disguised as a doorway and a pair of enormous hands grabbed my waist. I yelped just as Arlo Glenn moved in front of me, for some reason my instincts seemed broken around him. I trusted the big wizard in a way I’d never trusted anyone.

Like when I was a kid and used to believe my Dad hung the moon. It was that kind of naïve trust that could lead to disaster, but nothing was going to make me move from my position, glued to his back the way I was.

Nothing simple, at any rate.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered, and I was too stunned to argue. “What the hell, Mabe? I told you I would talk to her. Have you eaten today?”

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