Spellcaster (Spellcaster #1) (3 page)

For his part, when their eyes met, he froze in place. It was almost as if the sight of her—scared him.

But that couldn’t be right. He’d saved her from the wreck, which was the single bravest act she’d ever witnessed. Why would he be scared of
her
?

Nadia said, “Mateo, hi. I didn’t realize you went here.” Was that a stupid thing to say? It wasn’t like they’d talked a lot about school or anything else.

He said only, “Yeah. Hi. Are you okay? You and your family?”

People were staring at them openly: the new girl and Mateo, who was for some unknown reason “bad news.”

“They’re fine,” Nadia said quickly. “Dad cracked a couple ribs, but not too bad. He’s already feeling better. Started work today.” Like he even cared about her father’s job. Words seemed to be coming out of her mouth for no reason.

“Good. That’s good.” Mateo ran one hand through his dark hair, as though he was self-conscious; now that she saw it in daylight, Nadia realized it wasn’t black like hers but the deepest possible brown, just like his eyes. His skin was as tan as hers, maybe even darker. He wasn’t supertall, but a couple inches over her—which was of course perfect—

“So. Okay. I’ll be seeing you.” Nadia started to walk past him, then realized she’d forgotten to mention something. “I’m Nadia, by the way.”

“Nadia,” he said, his voice soft. Something about the sudden light in his eyes told her he’d been wondering about her name for a long while.

He knows me—I wasn’t imagining things—but how is that possible?

Yet he turned away and pushed through the crowded hall, surrounded by whispers that were almost as loud as the slamming locker doors.

She knew she needed to hurry in the opposite direction, but she found herself watching him go all the way down the corridor to the broad doors that led outside, until he pushed them open and was swallowed up in the light.

Mateo walked across the grounds—walked faster—and broke into a run. He had to get away from her, even more for her sake than for his. And yet something in his mind kept repeating the name.
Nadia
.

“Hey!”

He skidded to a stop only a moment before he would have run into Gage Calloway, who had four inches and about twenty pounds of muscle on Mateo. That would’ve hurt. His brain had obviously checked out. “Sorry.”

“Any particular reason you’re running out of here like the proverbial bat out of hell?” Gage grinned. “Not that I wouldn’t rather be escaping, too, but I figure we gotta graduate to make that work in the long term.”

Sighing, Mateo ran one hand through his hair. “I need a sec.”

“All right. I’ll take a sec here with you.”

That was fine with Mateo. They weren’t exactly close friends—they’d only met when Gage transferred to Rodman last year—but Gage at least treated Mateo like he was a normal person. Gage didn’t know any better, at least not yet.

Mateo saw that instead of cutting his dreadlocks over the summer, as some teachers had suggested, Gage had drawn them back into a neat bun at the nape of his neck, which brought him just into compliance with school rules. Although he was handsome and athletic—and not afraid to be himself in conformity-obsessed Captive’s Sound—Gage wasn’t one of the more popular kids in school. He was probably too independent for that, not to mention too discriminating to hang out with jerks like Jinnie and Jeremy. Instead he was content to hang out on the sidelines and do his own thing. Mateo was grateful for that; only someone who didn’t follow the herd would hang out with him.

Then Gage’s eyes widened, and his normally carefree expression switched into pure, abject devotion. “Which means maybe I get to talk to Elizabeth.”

Mateo looked across the grounds to the edge of campus, where Elizabeth stood. Her long chestnut curls ruffled in the breeze, as did the simple white dress she wore. She was so unlike any other girl at school—her face clean-scrubbed, her clothes anything but fashionable, and yet there was no doubting her beauty.

She was his oldest friend. His best friend. There was no one else he could ever have told about Nadia—and until this moment, he hadn’t realized how badly he needed to talk.

Elizabeth came toward him, and though she spoke softly, he heard every word. “Mateo. You look troubled.”

“It’s not a great day,” he answered.

Gage tried to cut in. “Since when is the first day of school a great day? Am I right?” He laughed a little too loud, then gave Mateo a look that clearly meant,
Why am I talking like an idiot?
The poor guy was so into her it scrambled his brains. Sometimes Mateo thought Gage might stand a chance with Elizabeth if he’d try shutting up occasionally.

But at the moment, Elizabeth showed no signs of even noticing that Gage was there. Her attention was only for Mateo. “Do you need to talk?”

“I kinda do. But I don’t want to make you late for class.”

“You’re gonna be late to class, too,” Gage pointed out. “Remember the part about escape through graduation?”

“They worked it out so my study hall is first period. In case La Catrina closes late.” Mateo spoke more to Elizabeth than to Gage. “Unless you guys are in study hall, too—”

“I can skip,” Elizabeth insisted. Her gentle voice could sound so firm sometimes. “This is important.”

Gage obviously wanted to think of a reason he should stay as well, but came up blank. “Okay. So. Catch you later?”

“Sure thing.” Mateo watched Gage lope off across the grounds, grateful there was one guy he could hang with. But he had only one real friend: Elizabeth. She alone understood him; she knew Mateo’s soul.

As they walked together to the broad elm at the very edge of school property, Mateo wondered once again why he wasn’t in love with Elizabeth. He should’ve been. Instead she was like the sister he’d never had. In childhood, when the other kids shunned him for being Lauren Cabot’s son, Elizabeth had played with him. Together they had climbed trees, made cookies, watched TV. She alone was loyal. She alone accepted him no matter what.

They sat side by side, their backs against the elm tree, as the bell rang. When it stopped, Elizabeth said, “Have you been having the dreams again?”

“Yes. Except they aren’t only dreams, Elizabeth. They’re real.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” The next would sound unbelievable, but the proof was here, now, walking the halls of Rodman High in the form of a girl so beautiful she stopped his heart. “I’ve seen her. The girl from the dream I told you about.”

“That could have been anybody in the wreck. It was dark and rainy—you had to be in shock—”

“You keep saying that, and I kept trying to believe you, but she’s here at Rodman High. Today. Her name is Nadia.”

“Nadia. Do you know her last name?”

“No.” He only barely stopped himself from saying
not yet
.

Elizabeth took a sip from her bottle of water, obviously taking a moment to consider this. “You’re sure she’s the same one?”

“Positive. It’s her. How else would I have known to be there before the accident?”

“Coincidence.”

“I could’ve believed that before today. Not anymore.” Mateo kicked at the ground with the heel of his sneaker. “I’m seeing the future. Just like Mom. Just like all the other Cabots.”

“They only
thought
they saw the future—”

“That’s what everybody always believed. I always believed that, too. But now I know it’s for real.”

Which meant the rest of the “Cabot curse” was real as well.

It stretched back through generations of his mother’s family—for hundreds of years, since Rhode Island was a colony and the first Cabots settled here. Maybe it went back to England, too; nobody knew for sure. All anybody knew was that, once a generation, a member of the Cabot family began claiming to know the future. That was how it always began. It always ended like—like it had for Mom.

At first she had been merely distracted. Staying up late at night, mumbling over breakfast with dark circles under her eyes. Yet over the next few months, Mateo’s mother had … disintegrated. There was no other word for it. Her temper had become quicker; she said things that didn’t make any sense. Mom stopped bothering with dressing nicely or brushing her hair, and when she came to pick him up from school, he was ashamed of her. He hated himself for that feeling now. She was his mother, and he shouldn’t have cared what anyone else thought.

Before long, Mom didn’t remember to pick him up from school in the first place. Dad would try to talk to her, tell her to get help, but she’d sob brokenly, telling him there was no help for her and they both knew it. They’d known it from the start.

She’d taken a rowboat out on the ocean. There was no telling for sure whether it was an accident; Mateo thought she’d planned it that way, so maybe he wouldn’t know what she’d really done. He knew anyway.

Elizabeth turned toward him, more intent now than she had been before. “Focus. It’s important. If you saw this girl—what did you see? Have you seen anyone else you know? Have you seen me?”

“Not you. Not since that dream I had a few weeks ago.” It had been a weird one, something about them running through a haunted house; he wasn’t even sure that was one of the visions, since it could have been only a regular dream like any other. Mateo leaned his head back against the tree. Weak sunlight filtered through the elm’s spindly branches. “I see a lot of things I don’t understand. Rainstorms that seem to have been going on for weeks. Hospital rooms—lots of those. Jeremy Prasad trying to have a serious conversation with me, which absolutely can’t be the future, right? Because that would never happen. That girl with the gray hair, what’s her name, except maybe she was also glowing? That one was probably just a weird dream like any other weird dream. But Nadia—I’ve definitely seen her, and more than once. In one dream, she’s lying at my feet in the aftermath of this blazing fire. In another, I see her being sucked down into—mud, maybe quicksand, I don’t even know what it is, but it has her. I see her fighting something—something not human. But in a lot of the dreams, she’s in danger. Elizabeth—sometimes I see her dying. And when she dies, I’m with her.” He sought Elizabeth’s blue eyes. “What if I’m the reason Nadia’s going to die?”

She shook her head sadly, and he leaned his head on her shoulder. Neither of them said any more; what else could there be to say? The future was rushing toward him—his future, and his curse. Nothing Elizabeth or anyone else could do would stop it.

But maybe—maybe if he stayed away from Nadia—he might have a chance to save her.

A large crow landed on the grass near them, cocking its head. It flew away in another instant, so Mateo couldn’t be sure, but for a moment it had looked as though there were milky cobwebs where its eyes should have been.

Crazy
, he told himself.
You’re going crazy. It’s already begun
.

“SO, LET’S SEE—NADIA CALDANI.” THE GUIDANCE
counselor shuffled through the file quickly. “Transfer from Chicago. For your senior year only?”

“Unless I flunk.”

The counselor—whose desk nameplate read
FAYE WALSH
—gave her a glance that clearly meant,
we can joke around, but not right now
. “I meant, it’s unusual for students to move to a new school and new state for their senior year. Work thing for your parents?”

“My dad wanted to quit working for a big law firm. Sick of the crazy hours, the corporate crap, all of that.” Was she going to get lectured for using the word
crap
? Apparently not. Ms. Walsh remained unruffled. She was unexpectedly chic for a school counselor, or really for anyone Nadia had yet seen in Captive’s Sound: close-cropped hair, big silver jewelry, and a white sheath dress that set off her dark skin. This was somebody who had a life outside Rodman High; Nadia could respect that. “He took a job here in Captive’s Sound—public-interest law. Representing lower-income workers who have disputes with their employers for back pay, workplace injuries, things like that.” Dad always claimed to be a do-gooder at heart, but Nadia had been kind of surprised when he stopped talking and did something about it. “And they’ll let him work from home sometimes, so he can be around for me and my brother.”

“That’s a definite plus,” Ms. Walsh said. She ran one perfectly manicured nail along the edge of the papers spread out on her desk. “Your dad’s the one who signed all the forms and consents.”

Oh, great—this was one of those counselors who expected to actually counsel you instead of just handing you college brochures. Nadia decided the quickest way out was to explain it all and move on. “My mother left my father several months ago. Didn’t ask for custody or alimony or anything. So she’s out of the picture.”

“How often do you see her?”

“Never,” Nadia said. “I see her never. She doesn’t want visitation. She doesn’t pick up the phone when we call, and I don’t think she so much as listens to our voice mails. I used to email her some; I think my little brother still does. But she never answers. Mom is—gone. Past tense. So Dad’s the one handling all the college stuff.” Hopefully that would be enough to shut Ms. Walsh up.

Usually it wasn’t, though. Other people who had heard this story, like her former friends back in Chicago, would pile on the questions:
Really? Never? That’s so awful. That’s so weird. Did she have a nervous breakdown? Did your father hit her when he got mad? Was there, you know, somebody else?
These questions always made Nadia want to scream. She had no answers, none, and Nadia didn’t see why she was responsible for explaining why her mother was such a loser.

Ms. Walsh didn’t ask any more questions. She only nodded. “You don’t have a lot of extracurriculars in your record.”

Nadia had more extracurricular interests than nearly anyone, but witchcraft wasn’t something you could put down in your college application. Honing her skills in magic, reading the ancient books her mother had given to her—it didn’t leave much time for show choir or the debate team. “Guess I’m not a joiner.”

“We should try to get you into something this year, though. To show colleges that you’re well rounded.”