Under a Spell

“Well, Lorraine’s not in yet and Principal Lowe has already called in your replacements for today so . . .”

I snapped my fingers, brightening. “That’s okay. That’s actually good. Will and I can observe and poke around the school and check out a few things.” I stepped backward, edging my way toward Lorraine’s office. “Thanks!”

I wasn’t sure if my sudden thundering heart was due to actual adrenaline or still the Code 33 kick, but I took the opportunity to photocopy the receipt I had from Miranda’s book and stack that, along with a second shot of the protection symbol from the Mercy desk, and a photo Will snapped looking down into Battery Townsley on Lorraine’s desk. I clipped the stack together and slapped a Need your thoughts on this Post-it note to the top.

My thumb was hovering over the speed-dial button on my cell phone when I ran into Kale rounding the corner.

“Just the person I was looking for!”

I held up a hand. “I’m sorry, Kale, but I’m in the middle of something.”

Kale clapped her hands together, prayer style. “Two seconds.”

I dropped my phone hand to my side. “Okay, two seconds.”

She immediately produced a square envelope and began trying to push it into my hand. I stepped back. “No, sorry. I won’t be the go-between for you and Vlad’s lover’s spat.”

Kale’s cheeks pinkened. “Vlad said we were lovers?”

“Kale . . .”

“Okay, okay, sorry. This isn’t for Vlad, though. It’s for Nina. Give it to her for me, please? It’s just an apology for the bird incident.”

I looked over my shoulder. “Nina works here. Can’t you give it to her yourself?”

Kale paled and wagged her head slowly. “Vampires are so scary when they’re mad. Especially Nina.”

Knowing that my sweet roommate had once decimated an entire army for pissing her off, I couldn’t really blame Kale.

I took the envelope. “Fine. But I don’t know when I’m going to see her.”

“You’re such a sweetie, Sophie!”

I zipped past Kale, then paused. “Hey, make sure that Lorraine reads the stuff I left on her desk, okay?”

Kale pumped her head while her lips worked a giant orb of hot pink bubble gum.

“Will?” I screamed into the phone. “Will, would you wake up?”

It was the third time I’d dialed Will, and while it did occur to me that I was leaving messages on a voice mail rather than an answering machine, I still couldn’t help myself from screaming that he wake up and, “pick up, pick up, pick up!”

I was too frustrated once the doors opened on the police station vestibule to try again—and too frustrated to notice before I went chest to chest with Alex. He stepped back, steadied me, and furrowed his brow.

“Have you thought about getting glasses?”

“I don’t need glasses. I see you . . . now.”

Alex’s lips cocked up into the familiar, panty-dropping half-smile that shot lightning through my veins. “Leaving already?”

“Actually, after everything last night—or this morning—I’m headed back over to Mercy.”

Alex crossed his arms in front of his chest and sat back in that incredibly manly Abercrombie model kind of way.

“You picking up Will along the way?”

I batted at the air. “I can’t even get him out of bed.”

And suddenly, in that millisecond of recognition, it was as if someone had sucked all the air out of the room. Something flitted across Alex’s eyes, marring the clear ice blue. He stiffened—just slightly—as heat snaked up my neck, washed over my cheeks and burned my ears.

“I didn’t mean that I—that he—that we—”

“No.” Alex held up his hand and took a step back—a step that seemed to put an enormous chasm between us. “You don’t owe me anything. You don’t have explain.”

“No.” I bounced up on the balls of my feet. “No, I do. It just came out wrong!”

But my meager explanation was lost in the crackle of the overhead speaker calling all available cops into the briefing room.

Alex turned on his heel and I reached out for him, my fingertips brushing across the fabric of his Windbreaker.

“Alex, wait!”

“Later, Sophie.”

Sophie.

My name—my actual name—rolling across Alex’s lips hit me like a fist to the gut. I was Lawson to Alex. I always had been. Suddenly, the fact that he used my first name—more intimate, more familial—sent me reeling. My name on his lips sounded like a door slamming firmly shut.

I tried to put Alex—and the crazy barista—out of my head by blaring the latest American Idol winner–slash–pop star du jour as I drove to Mercy. Normally, perky pop beats and songs about chasing your dreams and young love could shake me out of any rut, but I just sunk deeper and deeper the closer I got to the school.

We still hadn’t found Alyssa. My stupid, mindless mouth had hurt Alex. And here I was pulling into the parking lot of a school that had given me more questions than answers.

“Oh! Ms. Lawson!” Heddy said when I walked into the office, her orange lips a waxy O of surprise. “We’ve got someone covering you classes. Principal Lowe said that you and your friend were through with your little investigation.”

Something niggled at me and I cocked my head, narrowing my eyes at Heddy. “Our investigation? Will and I are just substitute teachers.”

Heddy paused for a beat, her lips slightly parted, crimson meshing with the red rouge already on her cheeks. “Principal Lowe told me.” She clapped a hand over her mouth daintily. “Was I not supposed to say anything”—she dropped her voice to a throaty whisper and leaned forward—“here?”

It wasn’t until Heddy’s last motion that Fallon—standing at the back of the office with a stack of file folders in her hand—even seemed to notice us. I glanced up, feeling my heart do a little double thump, hoping she hadn’t heard anything.

“Fallon,” I said to her as she stared at me.

She crossed the office in three long strides, pressing the manila folders against her far-too-ample-for-a- woman-who-couldn’t-yet-vote chest.

“I thought you were done here,” she said, her eyes cold.

“And I thought Miranda was the office aide,” I said, my eyes traveling back to Heddy.

“She is,” Fallon said. “Third period.”

In my mind, I knew Fallon was just a snotty kid. Her daddy handed her everything and she’d been blessed with Lolita-like looks and enough cunning to use them, but she was still just a kid. So I couldn’t figure out why she put me on edge so much.

“Witch.”

I didn’t realize I’d said it out loud until I felt the hot press of air edge past my lips

Heddy looked up at me. “Did you say something, dear?”

The word ricocheted around my head until it was droning in my ear: WITCH. Witch. Witchwitch witchwitch.

“Nothing, Ms. Gaines. Where is the library again?”

I turned my back on Fallon, still feeling the heat of her eyes boring into my back as I left.

Fallon was a bitch. She was a bully. And an office aide. She would have had access to each of the victims’ records, their home addresses, detailed confidential information about their family lives.

Did that make her a witch?