I scan the area to make sure there are no Nons sneaking peeks down the alley. I came all the way to the bad end of town for cupcakes, so no one seems to notice us here. Thank goodness. Of course, no Nons means no Enforcers and no one to save me if I mess this up. I raise my hands so my palms are facing the demon, and it seems nervous, which makes me falsely confident, since I don’t even have magic. I start the incantation. It’s strongest in Latin—most people use English, but I’m weak enough as it is.
“Virtute angeli ad infernum unde venistis,” I whisper. Then say it again, louder. “Virtute angeli ad infernum unde venistis.”
Four minutes and the only thing that’s changed is that now the demon is laughing. “You are Static. Leave me on the iron; I’m sure another will come along who can finish the job,” it chuckles.
Yeah, cause that’s what I need. An Enforcer to come see me chatting it up with Greenie instead of offing it. Anger boils through me. I can do this. It’s in my blood to do this. It’s got to still be there. I don’t need Connie or Pop or Gran or anyone. I know I have the power somewhere inside me. I can do it. I repeat the incantation.
“Now you’re wasting my time,” the demon says, its laughter fading.
I say the incantation again. There’s a moment before the magic starts where the elements all seem to merge into one huge power source. The air is thinner, water seems to evaporate into your pores, you get hot like you’re dancing on fire, the scent of dust and wildflowers fill the air, and it all tunnels into your veins and pours out. At least, that’s how I remember it. I know how it feels to have the magic build up, to fill the hollowness. It doesn’t; once again, there’s nothing.
I yell the words of the incantation. Over and over. Still nothing.
“This is starting to get boring.”
Suddenly the magic is there. It tingles through my toes and floats around in my head, falling into place. It’s different than I expect it to feel—less tunneling into me the way it does with my family, and more pulling out of me. A storm is brewing inside me. Maybe it’s supposed to feel different when you do it alone; I was a child the last time I used it without a counter. Whatever! It’s working! I don’t need my family again and I don’t have to worry about finding all the pieces for some crazy ritual. I’m so ecstatic that I yell the incantation again and don’t even care if I look unstable from the smiling. “Virtute angeli ad infernum unde venistis.”
The demon chokes on its laugh and falls to its knees. I stop chanting. It shakes on the ground and foams at the mouth before it melts. Well, not so much melts as much as skin peels away like disgusting goo, and then the rest of it bursts into pieces. A green scale hits me in the face.
Expulsion—I did it! I can’t believe I did it! I have magic! I squeal and jump in my spot. I expelled a demon on my own. If I killed it then maybe all those books are wrong, maybe that was my demon. The power still surges through me; I want to fly. I bet I could scale the wall. I have magic again. There’s no one to see me. I can’t help it—I dance. Full on cabbage patch with some weird leg kick, all uncoordinated and remarkable. I expelled a demon! I have my magic back! I deserve a dance. I deserve a ball! I deserve—
“That was touch and go there for a minute,” a calm, cool voice calls out to me.
I freeze. My heart is pounding in my chest from the adrenaline—not to mention, minor embarrassment. A boy leans against the brick wall, brown leather jacket, jeans that are too tight, bright-blue Converses and an amused smile. He can’t be a Non; if he was he’d be screaming his head off by now. He must be something else. Another witch, maybe?
“Oh, sorry,” he says, pushing away from the wall and stepping toward me. “Keep dancing. Didn’t mean to interrupt. Expelling a demon is a good reason to celebrate—even when it took you ten minutes.”
I force my mouth to close and pick my bag up off the ground, wiping away some flecks of green. This is not what I need. I have magic again. I feel it lingering beneath my skin, buzzing and pulsing, like it’s waiting to be utilized. I want to see what else I can do with it. I’ve never had this much energy after using magic. When I pull from Con or Gran or Pop, it makes me tired. This has to be my magic because it’s too alive to not be.
“And you’re an expert?” I snap. He’s obviously a witch because he’s still standing here. Plus, he thinks he knows everything, and we all have that problem a little.
“I know a thing or two,” he says. Some have more of a problem than others.
My phone chirps before I can deliver my comeback. A text from Connie: On my way. She’s never going to believe I did it on my own. No one was here to see except this random boy. I wonder if I can keep this power surge going long enough to do a memory wipe. It’s probably bad to have a witch knowing I couldn’t do magic. Nix the “probably.”
“Let me guess—you watch Buffy reruns?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.
He smiles. It spreads across his sorta-rugged-cute smug face. “She hunted vampires,” he says.
“Those aren’t real.”
“I’m aware.”
I snort, which is only a little mortifying.
“Glad that’s cleared up,” he says. He moves closer to me until he’s only inches away. I take a step back as he takes a step forward, and his hand reaches out toward my face. Witch or not, I will bust out my ninja moves if he touches me. He puts up his hands and I pause as he reaches out to touch my hair and comes back with some green demon insides. Awesome.
“Thanks,” I say, quickly. “What are you doing here?”
He smiles again and this time it lights up his eyes. They’re the same color green the demon was—only they’re brighter against his skin and short, shaggy dark-brown hair.
“I’m Carter.”
“Penelope Grey,” I say.
“Nice to meet you,” he says.
“So, why are you hanging out in an alley?”
Carter laughs a little and crosses his arms over his chest. He obviously missed the fact that it’s June in DC and he’s wearing a leather jacket.
“Tracking demons, what else?”
I shake my head. “You track them?” I ask, stepping away from him.
“They track us, don’t they? It’s only fair to return the favor,” Carter says. I’m pretty sure my mouth drops. I may spend some of my time looking for information about demons—well, a demon—but that’s totally different. I don’t seek them out. “I was following one when I found you.”
I stare at him for a second. What kind of weirdo witch tracks demons? We don’t have the power, the knowledge, or the skills to track demons without backup. Not even Enforcers, witches trained to fight demons, are supposed to do that. And this guy is no Enforcer—if he was then he’d have the badge of three gold triangles that only witches can see. Tracking demons is not safe and it’s not how we operate. Rule number thirteen: Let them come to you. When they reveal themselves, they exhaust themselves and you get the advantage.
“Penelope!”
It’s Connie. I look away from Carter and toward the sound of my sister’s voice.
“Next time, don’t forget the salt,” he says.
A half-cocked smile is on the side of his mouth. I start to say something, but I can’t think of anything quick enough. He disappears up the side of the alley wall by jumping on a Dumpster, and goes over the top. I bet I could’ve done that. That could’ve been my Spidey moment.
Connie comes running up the alley.
“Penelope,” she says out of breath. “Are you okay? I was with Thomas. I got here as fast as I could.” Connie’s round cheeks are flushed and her blond curls fall around her face perfectly even though she’s been running. I hate that her hair is curly while mine isn’t. Her brown eyes widen as she scans me for injuries, and a familiar pang hits my chest.