Before I lose my hand entirely, I force the rest of the spell out as fast as I can. The bubble gets hotter and hotter, until it’s all melting steam. When it’s gone, I pull back my hand, which is burned so bad there’s blood at my knuckles.
But Kat comes first. I put my head to her chest so I can hear her heartbeat. It’s there, but she’s not breathing.
I never did learn CPR, but I have to at least try. I open Kat’s mouth and put mine to hers. Her chest rises as I breathe out, and I wait for her to cough and sputter back to life like they do in the movies.
Except she doesn’t.
As I breathe into her mouth again, my panic intensifies to the point that I can barely get air myself. I promised to protect her, and I’ve already failed. I should have never let her do the binding. This is what happens when normal people get caught up in magic.
She can’t die. I need her.
“Wake up!” I scream despite being mute, shaking her because I don’t know what else to do. “You’re supposed to wake up!”
She coughs, and black water spews from her mouth as if she gulped down a whole lake of it. I hold her up, and she keeps going until I worry a lung will come out next. When she’s spent, she says, “I really thought I was going to die.”
Tears break free as I wrap my arms around her. She almost did. I don’t know if she understands how close it was.
“How did you stop it?” she asks.
I point to the table, where the orchids look like charred husks.
“My mom’s gonna kill me.” She looks at me, and I’m surprised to find her smiling.
“I guess it doesn’t really matter.” She leans her head on my shoulder. “Thanks, Jo.”
I squeeze her arm once, and then hold out my burned hand, which looks even worse now. Her eyes go wide. “Holy crap. What do you need? Ice?”
I nod.
Once she gets that, she cleans up the black water. I feel awful that she’s doing it all, seeing as she’s the one who almost died, but my hand still feels like it’s on fire.
How did this happen? I write on the fridge’s whiteboard.
Kat looks me in the eye, her fear washing over me. “It was a letter in the mail. I swear it looked totally normal, but the picture inside . . .” She points to the counter, where a shiny photo reflects the fluorescent lights. “I touched it, and that’s when the bubble came.”
From here, I can tell there’s no darkness left on the image, but I still approach it warily. Another cursed picture. If I had any doubt that this was related to our hunters, it’s gone now. I look down, and my friends stare back at me. This was taken the day we ate outside under the tree. Gwen is in the sun, chatting with Adam and looking like a freaking goddess. Kat’s sipping her drink, staring at the sky. There’s a big black X over her face.
The threat couldn’t be any clearer.
But there’s something that might help, except it’s as horrible as it is helpful—Winn is looking at the camera, his eyes locked in suspicion, while he holds me possessively. My oblivious smile looks silly, and I hate myself for not noticing whoever took this picture. Winn clearly did.
I turn the photo over, and chills run down my spine as I read: I spy with my little eye . . . a girl who has a lot to lose.
My breaths come fast and short as I process this simple little line. Whoever wrote it is pure evil. They can’t get through the magical barriers around the town and my house, so instead they hit me at my weakest point: the people I care about. It feels like they’re telling me to surrender now before it gets worse.
Kat stands next to me. “Don’t worry. We’ll get them first.”
I force a nod and write, We need to tell Nana.
“Right. Just let me change.” She heads for her room, and I follow closely behind. No leaving her alone. Ever.
I run my thumb back and forth over the picture as I wait outside her door. How will I protect them all? It seemed overwhelming enough to worry about Kat, but everyone I know? If the evil is this close, there’s no telling when or who it’ll attack.
“Let’s get out of here,” Kat says when she emerges, now wearing a purple-and-green striped shirt.
We head downstairs and out the front door, only to find another problem standing right in front of us—Gwen. She puts her hands on her hips, her anger crystal clear. “Sick, huh?”
EIGHTEEN
When Gwen first talked to me in elementary school, I was sure I was a charity case. She was such a pretty, outgoing little girl. Everyone loved her. Everyone wanted to be her friend. Boys and girls alike would flock around her at recess, hoping she’d choose them to play with. She hopped from crowd to crowd, as if she were trying on friends and none were good enough. Then in third grade, after my mom died, she sat down next to me and Kat at lunch.
“Can I eat with you?”
“Sure,” I said. She was Gwendolyn Lee, after all. No one rejected Gwendolyn Lee.
Kat swallowed her sandwich bite, eyeing Gwen. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Gwen shook her head. “Why would I do that?”
“Because everyone else would,” I said. It was true. A girl like her shouldn’t be with outcasts like us. It had to be a dare. Or some punishment for losing a bet.
Gwen frowned. “I just wanted to sit with you.”
“We don’t need you,” Kat said. “We don’t care about being cool or popular.”
“I know.” Gwen sighed, like even at eight years old she understood how the world worked. She understood that everyone else was trying to get somewhere by being her friend, and all she wanted was people who really cared about her.
So we let her stay, and she’s never left. In fact, she might value our friendship the most. That’s why, as she stares at us with hurt eyes, I want to bury myself in a grave.
“Funny thing, Jo,” Gwen says as I hide my burned hand behind my back. “I was coming here to grab Kat so we could storm your house with get-well treats and good gossip, whether your grandma liked it or not. But here you are.”
“Gwen . . .” Kat glances at me like she knows what’s coming.
Gwen points at her. “You, shut up.” Then she turns on me. “So you’re too sick to see me, but you can come all the way to Kat’s house to hang out with her?”
I stare at the ground, wishing I could say something. But no, all I can do is let her think what she thinks, which is closer to the truth than I want it to be.
“I made her,” Kat says. “She had some of my notes . . .”
Gwen holds up her hands. “Whatever. You think I can’t see what’s going on here? I always knew you two were closer, but I thought you’d at least wait until graduation to cut me out.”
“What?” Kat takes a few steps forward. “Gwen, that is so not what’s going—”
“Then explain those necklaces!” She points to Kat’s charms, the ones to help her fingernail heal. “We’ve begged Jo for those, and she’s always said her Nana only makes them for family!”
Kat grabs them, her desperate eyes on me, as if I’ll have a good explanation. It does look bad. Even if I had a voice, I still wouldn’t have a reply.
“You guys are totally shutting me out, and after all we’ve been through I think that’s a pretty shitty thing to do.” She stomps back to her truck while both of us watch helplessly. As she drives off, my throat tickles.
“Perfect,” I say. “Now I get my voice back.”