Finally, Crowe shifted, moving away from his sister, and the friction dissipated. He started to leave, but not before leaning into me and saying, in a low, throaty voice, “You really need her to fight your battles for you?”
Bitterness flared inside me. “This isn’t my battle at all. Who you sleep with has absolutely nothing to do with me.”
For a moment, he was completely still, like his own magic had locked all his muscles and bones into place. “You don’t understand at all,” he finally said, very quietly. And then he left, the sledgehammer hoisted over his shoulder like it weighed nothing at all.
Alex and I ambled through the paths created by the lines of tents. I wasn’t sure where we were headed, but it seemed like Alex was. I caught a glimpse of Katrina coming out of the Niklos tent, wearing a lace tank and looking confident and undeniably gorgeous. It only served to remind me of what had happened at the mall, and how Alex targeted Katrina in part out of loyalty to me.
“Crowe was right—I do let you fight my battles. Does sticking up for me bother you?” I asked, anxiety trickling in and threatening to extinguish the pleasant buzz from my Jack-infused coffee. I tossed the empty cup in a trash bin that had been set up next to the path. “I’m sorry if—”
“You don’t have to apologize. I’m just happy you put up with my antics.” She gave my arm a little shove. “And I’d punch the pope if he looked at you funny. You know that.”
More likely, she’d curse him, as long as her magic wasn’t bound. “I do know. I just wish…” I wished I could use my power like she did. I wished for once that every time I was around magic, it didn’t make me feel like I was going insane. I craned my neck, looking for the beer tent. I found it right down the lane, radiating music and magic that hung in the air like a shattered rainbow.
Alex followed the line of my gaze. “You know I’m the biggest partier there is, so I’m not judging, okay? But I’m worried about you. I’m not going to be an asshole about it like Crowe is, but I needed to say that.”
I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to look at her—or the magic. “Just to take the edge off.”
“The edge of what, Jem? You’re among family. You belong here.”
I opened my eyes and met her gaze. “Do I?”
“Of course you do. And if you’d actually use your powers like you did last night, you might realize that.” She threw an arm around my shoulders. “If you ever want to practice on me, let me know.”
I should totally take her up on her offer. She’d never laugh at me. Maybe I could even tell her about my weird reaction to magic. But I knew I wouldn’t. As much as I thought about leaving the kindled world, I didn’t want to be pushed out of it. If Alex knew magic made me feel sick, she probably wouldn’t want to go to the Schoolhouse with me. She probably wouldn’t even want to be here with me right now. She’d want to protect me, just like she always did. Maybe, though…
“You know what? Yeah,” I said. “Tomorrow? No promises, but I’ll give it a try—right after I unbind your magic.”
I sounded a lot braver than I felt, and Alex rewarded me with a grin. “It’s a date, and if you stand me up, well, I’ve got another smelly charm tucked away for a special occasion.”
With a spring in her step, she started walking again, tugging me inside a red tent, the flap embroidered with golden filigree. A hand-painted sign staked into the ground read WARES. Because the festival wasn’t really yet open for business, we had the place to ourselves, though Lori already had it all set up. Two long rows of tables dominated the space, with cuts organized for sale on the tabletops. Even if they hadn’t been labeled, I would have known what they were by their scents alone, if not by the telltale wisps that rose from their intricately carved surfaces. But none of them was too strong, so I breathed through my mouth and cautiously walked deeper into the tent.
There was a table for almost every kindled power here. Not every family was represented in person—my mom’s family, the Cabreras, were scarce in the States and based in Brazil, and the Kitsamuras were based in Japan. However, there were other kindled who, through our tangled family trees, had inherited the powers associated with those family names. Apart from the Medicis, who had their own trading space, the only one not represented was the Croft family. Their tollat magic had been both famous and despised in the kindled world—it included the ability to siphon others’ magic and use it as one’s own. But the Croft family had died out in the late nineteenth century, and to my knowledge, no one had turned up with those powers in the past fifty years or so, with one notorious exception.
Henry Delacroix, the former president of the Deathstalkers. With his death, it appeared the tollat magic had gone extinct. Our kindled world had lost a slice of its vibrancy and variation, but no one thought it was a bad thing.
I spotted the Niklos table and headed for it. They possessed animalia magic—the ability to talk to animals, control animals, sometimes shape-shift into them. I’d never met my grandmother Niklos on my mom’s side—she’d died before I was born—but I’d always been interested in her magic. Talking to animals seemed like a very useful ability. Katrina was a Niklos and apparently had that power, but she was nowhere in sight anymore, thank God.
Alex wandered over to the Stoneking table and fingered a cut with a swirling silver design on the front.
“Let me ask you something,” she said.
“Okay.”
“Do you think it’s possible to bind another family’s magic to your own?”
I thought about that. “I heard that if you mix your blood with another kindled, you get temporary access to their power and a sort of rush.” Blood magic was severely frowned upon in the kindled community. My dad had once told me it led down a dangerous path, but he wouldn’t explain much more than that. I’d only been about ten at the time. “I’ve heard that it’s addictive. Is that what you’re talking about?”
She bit her lip. “I’m thinking about a lot more than mixing your blood with someone else’s. But blood is the key, right?”
I gestured at all the cuts around us. “That’s how you make these. It’s the only way to share power. A measure of blood plus a specific incantation or rune combination to trigger the magic.”
“Yeah, of course, but that’s using your own magic. I’m talking about stealing someone’s power for good. Getting it directly from blood instead of a cut.”
My eyebrows rose. “Are you planning to—?”
“No!” She glanced at the entrance to the tent as if she was worried someone was listening. “I’m just wondering about something called blood power, and how dangerous it is.”
“Why?”
She bit her lip, apparently not yet ready to spill.
I let it slide for the moment. “The only way I’ve ever heard of taking another person’s power without a cut is doing blood magic—but that’s more about combining and mixing power, isn’t it? Oh, and there’s tollat magic. Siphoning someone else’s power.”
“That’s only temporary, too, though. Right?”
I ran my fingers through a hanging display of cuts strung up on leather cording, sneezing as the scents mixed and hit my nose. “I guess we’ll never know. But you’re talking about something permanent? What’s up?”
She shoved her sunglasses up on the top of her head and looked over at me. “That thing I wanted to tell you… I found something of my dad’s, some notes he was keeping before he died and—”
The tent flap rustled as someone entered, cutting Alex off. We both turned to the newcomer.
Darek stood in the doorway. He looked from me to Alex and pulled back a step. “Hey.”
A flutter of excitement burst open in my chest, along with a stab of anxiety.
Alex tossed a terra charm back to its table. Her earlier seriousness disappeared, replaced by a flirtatious smile and a batting of her eyes. “And who are you?”
“Darek. Delacroix.” He grinned, stepped past me, and offered his hand to Alex. “Alex, right? We actually met briefly at last year’s festival. I guess I’m not that memorable.”