Page 56 of The Glittering Edge

“The one my mom is wearing?”

Alonso’s jaw drops. “Your mom got a ward? How?”

“It belongs to the Barrions. Why? Is that bad news?”

“Get in the car,” Alonso says as he turns the key in the ignition.

Penny barely has time to get in and shut the door before Alonso pulls the car out of her driveway. She slides in the seat, grabbing the dashboard to keep herself in place.

“Where are we going?” Penny asks.

“The hospital.”

The engine roars as the Shelby’s tires screech down the road.

Alonso

ALONSO CAN FEEL THE MAGIC AS HE APPROACHES MRS. EMBERLY’Shospital room. It’s palpable around Penny’s mom, visible but not, kind of like an aura. He doesn’t realize he’s hovering in the doorway until Penny asks him what’s wrong.

“Nothing,” Alonso says. “Let’s see it.”

“Here,” Penny says, touching a small black charm at her mom’s throat. A shiver passes through her, and she withdraws her hand. “It keeps doing that.”

“Doing what?” Alonso says.

“It feels kind of… alive.”

Alonso takes the ward in his hand. At first, the cold of the crescent moon charm makes goose bumps rise on his arms—and then the ward’s enchantment shows itself.

Alonso feels the true weight of the ward’s magic. The strength of the ward’s creator, like no power Alonso has ever felt in his life. The echo of the other person who wore it. When Alonso closes his eyes, he sees her face.

Tanya Barrion. Corey’s mom.

The aura Alonso sensed when he walked into the room wasn’t the curse; it was the protective barrier of the ward.

A weird smell is filling the room—a smell like singed flesh.

Penny gasps. “Alonso, your hand!”

Alonso flinches and drops the necklace, clutching his handagainst his chest. His skin is smoking as if he stuck his open palm on an electric stovetop.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Alonso says.

Penny runs to the sink and turns on the cold water. Alonso shoves his hand under the tap, sighing as the water meets his skin.

“I’ll get a nurse,” Penny says, but Alonso grabs her arm before she can walk away.

“They won’t know what to make of this.” He holds up his hand. “How bad is it?”

Penny reaches up and grabs his wrist.

It’s not romantic, the way she touches him. She’s just angling his hand toward the hospital window so she can see better. But Alonso’s magical nausea is very quickly replaced with a different kind of nausea, and now it isn’t his hand that’s burning. It’s his entire body.

When Penny looks up, his eyes immediately lock with hers. This always happens, whether he wants it to or not; his eyes find Penny like a fire finds gasoline. Alonso has the same thought he’s had a million times before: She would be horrified if she knew how he really felt about her.

Penny’s voice brings Alonso back to himself. “The burn looks strange. It has a pattern.”

Alonso pulls his hand away, but he’s too rough, and Penny takes a step back, creating distance between them. He ignores the guilt he feels at the look on her face as he shakes out the pain. Why can’t he be normal around her? Every little thing Penny does sets off a chain of wild reactions, like he’s a human Rube Goldberg machine.

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