The Witch Is Back (22 page)

Had Fallon just given me a
compliment
? I glanced over at him awkwardly, not quite sure how to respond to this kinder, less annoying version of him. The even weirder thing was that he was starting to seem more like an actual human being and not just the kid twerp I grew up with. What were they putting in the water up here, anyway?

“Um,
thanks
?” I said.

“This is ridiculous. Hadley can't
destroy
a bunch of teenage girls just because they don't like her, or want to steal her boyfriend,” Abby said, annoyed. The fact that she was speaking up at all caught me off-guard. Apparently Fallon was too, because he sat back, suddenly silent, clearly torn between his allegiance to me and to his girlfriend.

“Brooklyn's not trying to
steal
me,” Asher said.

“She's made it pretty clear she's not thrilled about the fact that we're together,” I said, looking at Asher, whose expression was pained. I turned back to Abby and gave her a pointed look. “Besides,
you
were the one who said that Brooklyn would do whatever it takes to get what she wants. Hello? How much more proof do you need?”

“The kind that shows she actually did it,” Jasmine said. Of all the people to come to Brooklyn's defense, I never expected it to be her. “Look, nobody likes a good throw-down more than me, but even I think this is bull.”

“Yeah, Brooklyn's not as bad as you're making her out to be,” Sascha said as she played with a bracelet that hung around her wrist. It was small and gold and delicate—and completely unfamiliar to me. I glanced over at Abby and then at Jasmine and Jinx. They were all wearing replicas of the jewelry Sascha had.

If they were friendship bracelets, where was mine?

“That's because she's trying to turn you against me,” I said finally.

“It seems like you're doing a pretty good job of that yourself,” Jinx said quietly.

This was especially painful to hear, since I'd been out in the woods looking for a solution to
Jinx's
anxiety. It was like taking a slug to my gut.

“That's enough, guys!” Asher said forcefully. He got up and walked over to where I was sitting on the couch and placed his hands on my shoulders reassuringly. “Hadley didn't attack herself out there. Something's going on—that much we know.”

“Thanks, Asher,” I said, looking up at him gratefully. Suddenly all those nights we hadn't spent with each other since we'd arrived didn't seem like they'd had much of an impact on our relationship. He was still there for me when I needed him, and that's what really mattered.

“That said, I agree with the others that it couldn't have been Brooklyn who did this,” he concluded.

What the eff
.

“You guys
really
don't see Brooklyn as a threat?” I asked, unwilling to let it go. Not when I was so sure I was right. When they didn't answer, I frowned and looked away, disappointed.

“Sorry, Had,” Asher said, touching the rope burns on my neck gingerly. The contact made me shiver. “It's not that we don't believe you, but I think you're accusing the wrong person here. It just
can't
be her.”

“I know you used to date her, Asher, but she's not the same girl you used to know,” I said.

“It's not that,” he said, sighing as he ran his hands through his jet-black hair. The others were sitting around now, just watching us.

“Then
what
Asher?” I asked, pulling out from underneath him as I grew more frustrated with the conversation. “Someone tried to drown me in the shower and left that message in the amphitheater. Brooklyn's the only one who makes sense! What proof could you
possibly
have that she's not the one pulling the strings here?”

He remained silent for a few beats and stared down at his feet, suddenly looking guilty.

“Brooklyn couldn't have done the stuff at the amphitheater,” he said. “Because she was with me last night.”

I must have gone momentarily deaf, because I could've sworn that Asher just said that Brooklyn was with
him
the night before.

“Huh?” I asked blankly.

“Had, don't freak out, okay?” Asher said, placing his hand in mine. I let him do it, but I didn't return his reassuring squeeze. In fact, I barely felt him touching me as the truth of what he said sunk in.

“I won't freak out, because it can't be true,” I said finally, my voice not sounding like my own. “You couldn't have been with her, Asher, because you already had plans with Hudson and Dane. Wasn't that the reason you couldn't meet the rest of your coven last night?”

“Mmmm, Dane,” Sascha cooed dreamily. “Crikey! Where
is
my cute Aussie tonight, anyway?”

“You realize they don't actually say that over in Australia, right?” Jasmine said.

I ignored both of them, staring at Asher as I waited for him to answer me. But he didn't. It was like we were in some sort of standoff, both waiting for the other to draw their gun first.

“Yes they do,” Sascha insisted. “The Crocodile Dundee said it all the time.”

Jasmine looked up at the ceiling and sighed loudly. “Well, if you saw it on TV then it
must
be true,” she said. “In fact, you should
definitely
ask Dane about it the next time you see him. I'm sure he'd
love
to hear you speak his native language.”

“You think?” Sascha asked, smiling like she was already considering it.

“Look, I
did
have plans with the guys last night—” Asher finally said to me.

“Glad we cleared that up,” I said.

“—but when we were done, Brooklyn and Eve came by,” he said.

“Why would they think it was okay to drop by your room so late at night? Or at all?” I asked, growing angrier as I pictured them prancing around in their pajamas.

“It wasn't a big deal, Had. Honest,” he said. “Brooklyn said it was Eve's idea—I think she likes one of the guys or something—”

“It better not be Dane,” Sascha chimed in, her eyes narrowing into slits.

“—so, I figured it was as good a time as any to clear things up with her. You know, make things right after what happened?” Asher's eyes pleaded with me not to make him go into details in front of the other Cleri members.

“And you just
had
to do it in your
bedroom
?” I asked.

He looked around the table for help, but no one was going to save him from my wrath. Especially since he was currently surrounded by girls. Looking deflated, he turned back to me again.

“Clearly, talking to Brooklyn in my room—even though it's not like we were alone or anything—was a bad idea. I can see that now,” he said carefully, trying to lighten the mood. I didn't think it was funny. “Next time I'll make sure we hang out in neutral territory.”

“Yeah. Somewhere there isn't a bed, genius,” Jasmine said, snickering.

“Oh, no,” I said, shaking my head. “No. There isn't going to be a next time, Asher. That was it. You explained things to her, you guys had your closure, there's no reason the two of you need to
hang out
ever again.”

Asher wasn't a dumb guy. So why was he saying such stupid things? Beyond that, why did he even
want
to spend time with Brooklyn at all? It was clear that Asher and I connected on a deeper level; and I had no doubt that Asher loved me. That was a truth that I felt in my heart.

Still, Brooklyn had powers that I didn't. Here was a girl who could make people
fall
for her. Whether they wanted to or not.

“Had, you know that I love you. And I'd do anything to make you happy. But I can't promise you I'll never talk to her again,” he said to me gently.

It was like a shot through my heart and for a few seconds I didn't know what to say. I stood up to leave—forgetting that it was my own room—but Asher gripped my hand harder to keep me from escaping.

“I have roommates,” he explained. “If they want to invite Brooklyn over, I can't do anything about it. And with Eve on the scene . . . well, she'll probably be back. Which means Brooklyn might tag along. Besides, we're all sort of stuck here, babe. It's not exactly a big campus and I can't just start ignoring her. Especially since I'm trying to do the right thing this time around.”

His explanation made sense, but I still didn't like knowing that there wasn't a whole lot I could do to keep the two of them apart. I wanted Asher to offer to leave the room if Brooklyn came to “hang out” again, but the gesture never came.

“Fine,” I said, feeling totally over the conversation.

I freed my hand from his and scooted over the back of the couch, escaping to my bed. Pulling my legs up onto the bedspread, I looked out the window as it raised up into the air and away from Asher and the others.

The rest of the Cleri realized this was their hint to leave and I didn't have to watch them to know they were heading toward the door. A few seconds later, I heard it open and feet shuffling out.

“I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?” Asher said quietly. There was a sadness in his voice, but I felt too betrayed to care. So I just mumbled something incoherent and lay down until the last of them were gone.

I stayed there like that, even after Abby and Colette had left for dinner, just staring out the window. When I finally snapped out of it, I came up with a new game plan. One that redirected my focus from Brooklyn and back onto the people I actually cared about.

Even if they didn't seem to care about me at the moment.

I immediately got to work on creating the perfume for Jinx. Her emotional health was more important than any squabble—no matter how big. Besides, I'd nearly died getting all the ingredients and I was damned if I was going to let them go to waste now.

So, with a new fire ignited inside me, I started on the potion, first conjuring up an empty glass bottle that would work perfectly as a perfume dispenser. It was pretty. Big and round with cuts in the glass like a mini-disco-ball. In the light it even shone a little like one. I was sure Jinx would love it. Any girl would. Well, maybe not Jasmine, but she was sort of in a (dark) league of her own.

I ran my fingers over the pages of the book that now rested on my comforter in front of me. Following the strokes of the pen on the page I was currently turned to, I couldn't help but smile.

My family magic book always had that effect on me.

At first I'd wondered if it was stupid for me to take such a priceless family heirloom to a camp where the potential for someone to get their hands on it was higher than at home. But the truth was: I felt safer with it on me. Even if I had to hide it whenever I was away from it.

And by hide, I mean morph it into something else entirely, so that no one would be tempted to steal it or read the private spells located within its pages. A day of research and a simple spell later, I had successfully glamoured the giant hardback book into a distressed copy of
The
Catcher in the Rye
. I figured it was a safe alternative, considering it was highly unlikely that anyone our age would pick up the classic for a light read. Even Abby thought it was a little too much emo-whining for her.

So, after switching Salinger back into my beloved Book o' Spells, I spread out all the flowers and herbs that I'd collected from the woods. Whites, purples, yellows, greens, blues—the petals were all so vibrant and beautiful, it was almost a shame I'd have to crush most of what was in front of me.

Earlier, I'd snagged some food and borrowed a small container of olive oil from the dining hall. The kitchen staff hadn't asked me why I'd wanted it, just handed the bottle over. And true, regular old olive oil had a stronger base smell to it than grapeseed oil, but ultimately it wouldn't interfere with the other scents I'd be infusing the oil with. And in a pinch, beggars can't be choosers.

I began pulling the petals from each of the flowers, placing them along with some of the roots into a bowl like the ones people used to make guacamole in restaurants. Luckily, this had been another item we'd had on campus—both in the dining hall and in the magic-supply closet, which was kept downstairs. The mortar and pestle were actually items typically found in any magicking household, so they were pretty easy to come by.

Civilians registered for plates and Crock-Pots. We witches asked for equipment to make our potions in. What are you going to do?

When I was done plucking the flowers, I took the pestle and began to crush the petals inside the bowl. Immediately all sorts of sweet smells filled the room. It was like being in a flower shop, only better, since I was squeezing out all the oils that were inside the flowers and letting their essences permeate the air. It was only through destroying the flowers that the power inside them would truly be unleashed. The outer smell of a flower faded fast, but the essence . . . the essence lasted much longer.