Just do it, Indie. Do it for Paige.
I grip the knife tighter and focus on the snake flashing around the circle. I raise the knife over my head, then bring it down with all my might. It thunks into something solid, which sends a painful vibration through my injured arm. At first I think I’ve done it, but when I look down I see the knife is lodged in the earth. A hiss sounds behind me.
“Behind you!” Bishop yells.
I yank the knife out of the ground and spin around, holding the blade out in front of me. The snake has used the strength of its long tail to rise up. Its red eyes glow fiercely, its jaw opened wide to reveal sharp fangs and a flicking forked tongue.
It is pissed. Off.
It lunges at me. I duck just quick enough to avoid getting bit but not to avoid its scales from brushing against my arm. I let out a cry.
“You can do it, Indie!” Bishop cheers, but the nervous tremor in his voice is less than encouraging.
The snake lunges again. I panic and drop the candle, then slice the blade out in front of me with both hands. It makes contact with something solid, and wetness splatters my face. A heavy weight slumps onto my feet.
For a moment, I’m too stunned to move.
“Indie, the candle!”
Bishop’s words sober me up enough to look down. The snake lies in two pieces at my feet, black sludge streaked across my boots. Flames from the dropped candle lick quickly along the dry leaves. I snatch up the candle and stomp on the fire until it’s out. Smoke curls up from the blackened leaves. I look at the snake carcass again, and a violent gag rises through me.
Remorse and regret swim in my head, making me dizzy. I want to quit, stop this madness now, but then the snake’s death would have been for nothing. I have to go through with this. I have to finish the spell.
I drag in a shaky breath and sweep my eyes over to Bishop. He stands with his hands clenched at his sides, like he’s waiting to catch me if I collapse, but there’s something besides apprehension in his eyes.
Respect. He didn’t think I’d go through with it.
“Now chant the spell,” he says.
I take a breath, calling the words to my head.
“Dame poderes, tres veces tres, dame poderes, tres veces tres, dame poderes, tres veces tres.”
Nothing happens.
“Keep chanting,” Bishop says.
“Dame poderes, tres veces tres, dame poderes, tres veces tres, dame poderes, tres veces tres.”
“Are you sure we’re doing it right?” I ask.
“Yes, I’m sure. I went over it three times with Irena.”
Jealousy flashes hot in my stomach, but it’s hardly the time, so I tamp it down and keep chanting over and over, until the words start slurring together and the sky grows darker by degrees.
“Do you feel any different?” Bishop asks after a while.
“I feel like an asshole, does that count? I murdered that snake for nothing.” I blow out the candle.
“You don’t know that,” he says, but he doesn’t sound very convinced.
Killing the snake seemed like a sacrifice I was willing to make if it gave me an edge to save Paige and those other kids, but to gain nothing at all from it? To have lied to Bishop for no reason? I squeeze my eyes shut against a rush of tears. I can feel him watching me and I wish I could disappear. I’m so disgusted with myself. I’m a terrible person.
“Indie…” He starts toward me when a boom of thunder sounds, so loud it makes us gasp. I look up just as a crack of lightning flashes across the sky. A fat raindrop falls on my forehead, quickly followed by more. Before long, my ears are filled with the sound of rain falling fast on the leaves.
“Awesome,” I say, throwing my hands up at the sky. “It hardly ever rains in L.A. and it rains right now. The universe hates me.”
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Bishop says. He scoops the candle and athame out of the circle and dumps them into the backpack, then hikes the bag over his shoulder. He grabs my hand and pulls me through the forest. By the time we’ve made it back to the path, my hair is plastered to my head, my T-shirt wet and cold against my skin. I shiver so hard my teeth chatter.
“Sorry,” Bishop calls over the rain. “I checked the weather, but I guess it’s different up here in the mountains.”
His words, meant as an apology, strike me like a punch to the gut. I’m being a brat. It’s not his fault any of this is happening—he’s done nothing but go out of his way to try to help. Sometimes I don’t even recognize myself anymore.
I pull up short. He realizes I’ve stopped and spins around. His hair is wet against his cheeks, and he uselessly tries to shield his eyes from the rain. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury myself in his chest. He pulls me close.
“We’ll practice every day,” he says into my hair. “Every chance we get.”
I squeeze him tighter.
We hold each other for a long time.
12
Aunt Penny knows something is up.
I stir my Cocoa Puffs with more interest than is strictly necessary as she eyes me over the top of the proof of the flyer for the Spooktacular Halloween Sale she’s having at the Black Cat. She slowly bites into her toast, her eyes never leaving mine even though she’s supposed to be checking the proof for typos.
“How was that math test?” she asks.
“Oh. Um. Good,” I lie.
“Good? I haven’t seen you crack a book in like…ever, actually.”
“Well, okay,” I admit. “It didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. But I’ll make up for it, and my grades are so good it will hardly make a difference.”
She’s still staring at me.
“All right, what’s up with you?” she asks.
I shake my hair around my face like a shield and take another big bite of cereal. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumble.
Seriously, how could she possibly know about the spell? I had showered and was in bed, my wet clothes hidden beneath a pile of other laundry, well before Aunt Penny got home last night. But it’s like the woman inherited some sort of parental bullshit radar the day she became my legal guardian.