Oh, great. Mateo hoped he wouldn’t vomit on the peppers.
But Dad wasn’t going to launch into stories about his swinging single days; it was worse than that. “From the week I moved to Captive’s Sound—the day I met your mother—it all changed. So beautiful. So lonely. Nobody in this damned town ever gave her a chance.” Bitterness had crept into his father’s voice; it usually did, when they talked about Mom. “Crazy, they called her. They drove her crazy with their stupid stories about a curse. That’s what did her in, Mateo. As far as I’m concerned, every gossip in this town has her blood on their hands.”
This was the point in the speech where Mateo usually mouthed the final words along with Dad’s voice: blood on their hands.
Today, though—with his own knowledge of the dreams Mom had seen, too, with his grandmother’s scarred face still fresh in his memory—that blood seemed way too real.
Nadia had hoped she and Verlaine could slip up to the attic without being noticed, but there was a downside to having her father working from home.
“Well, who have we here?” He smiled as he rose from his desk; already stacks of papers were spread around him like he was building a nest. Within a week, the chaos would be total.
“Verlaine Laughton,” Verlaine said. She didn’t seem to mind meeting Nadia’s father; the weird defensive edge she had most of the time had vanished. “Nadia and I go to school together. Thanks for having me over. This house is amazing. Is it, like, a hundred years old?”
“A hundred and fifteen, according to the realtor. Did you say your name was—”
“Verlaine.” Obviously she was used to repeating it. “One of my grandmothers was named Vera, the other one was named Elaine, so my parents put them together.” Her cheery expression clouded. “I like to think they’d have chosen something else if they’d known Verlaine was also a famous poet who died of syphilis back in the day. At least, I hope they would’ve.”
“At least it’s original.” Dad laughed, though he was clearly distracted; Nadia could tell she’d have to remind him of Verlaine’s name again.
“We’ll be upstairs, okay, Dad?” Nadia hurried Verlaine out as smoothly as she could. For his part, Dad settled back into work; when he got his head into legal questions, he usually didn’t resurface for hours. Cole, meanwhile, had only looked away from the Disney Channel long enough to wave.
Verlaine followed her up to the attic, obviously wary, but when she got there, her reaction was almost deflated. “I thought this would be all, you know, spooky and mysterious.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.” Nadia stowed her school stuff in a corner. Already she’d set up a couple of card tables; someday soon, around the end of the month, she’d go Dumpster diving and see if she couldn’t find something sturdier to replace them with. Her various ingredients were stored in test tubes and flasks she’d ordered from medical-supply catalogs, along with a few apothecary jars that had been in her family for a long time, left behind by Mom when she went, probably by accident. Her Book of Shadows might get to look mystical in time—as they gained power, apparently, they could change appearance and practically take on lives of their own—but right now it looked like an ordinary leather-bound journal propped on a windowsill.
But it wasn’t all science. She had some oversize pillows to sit on, the protective blue ceiling like a cloudless sky overhead, and a secret stash of chocolate. Some materials and ingredients had the power to conduct and focus magic, and weirdly, wonderfully, chocolate was one of the best.
As she tossed Verlaine one of the mini candy bars, Nadia said, “So, you need to really listen to this, okay? Think long and hard before you say you want to stay. It’s serious.”
“What’s serious?” Verlaine said around a mouthful of chocolate.
“If you’re here when I cast a prophetic spell—which I’m going to admit right now I’ve never done before—there’s a chance you’ll do more than watch me. There’s a chance the magic will … change you. Change us. It could make you my Steadfast.”
Verlaine scooted closer. “What’s a Steadfast? It sounds important.”
“It is.” Nadia had to go through it all, so there would at least be some chance Verlaine knew what she was getting into. “A Steadfast is a woman who isn’t a witch herself, but who has the ability to enhance a witch’s powers through her presence. A Steadfast doesn’t have magic of her own, but she amplifies everyone else’s magic. By that, I really mean everyone—any witch who’s near the Steadfast, whether they know about her or not—but the effect is infinitely more powerful for the witch she’s bound to.”
“Whoa.” Verlaine’s face lit up, which told Nadia she wasn’t explaining this well enough. “That’s fantastic. Beyond fantastic. Do you have, like, dozens of Steadfasts?”
“What? No. Never. You can only have one, and it’s a serious thing. A sacred thing. A witch and a Steadfast are truly bound together in the most profound way. Lots of times, it’s a witch’s sister who doesn’t have the gift, or a daughter. Someone who’s always going to be there, no matter what.”
This was crazy, taking a chance like this with someone she’d known only a couple of days. Of course, it wasn’t much of a chance. Some witches cast prophetic spells dozens of times with their closest friends, hoping to be bound as Steadfasts, without it ever occurring.
But Mom had always said, You never know. When you open yourself to prophetic magic, you open yourself to the primal forces of the universe. It’s unpredictable, and it’s dangerous, and your soul reaches out, like casting anchor in a stormy harbor—
Nadia didn’t need an anchor, though. She didn’t need Verlaine, didn’t need anyone. Well, Dad and Cole—but really that was more like they needed her.
“What does that mean, enhance your powers?” Verlaine grabbed another couple of chocolate bars.
“It means if I cast a spell when my Steadfast is nearby, that spell will be stronger. More effective. It will last longer. That person’s presence might make it possible for me to cast spells that might otherwise be beyond me at this point. I’d probably advance faster, too, if we spent enough time together.” Nadia took a deep breath. “So for me, it’s all positive. For the Steadfast, it’s not. Steadfasts can see magic in ways I can’t—in ways no one else can. Apparently that can be, well, disturbing.” Nadia sighed. “It’s probably not going to happen with you. Seriously. We just met.”