Page 15

Chapter 15

The Difference Between a Traffic Cone and Bagpipes

“ B reakfast is anything you want,” Natalie says as we enter the lounge at eight the next morning. “Eggs, oatmeal, pancakes…”

She motions for me to take the lead to any table. Only two others are occupied, so I head for a booth on the other side of the crackling fireplace—out of sight of the hallways and prying eyes.

“Do you use magic to cook?” I ask as I plunk into the cushy seat.

“Yes and no.” She puts a hand on the table and slides in across from me, drawing my gaze to the way her toned arms fill out the sleeves of her black t-shirt. “Controlling earth elements means we can cook anything plant-based in seconds, but with animal proteins, we can go as far as heating the skillet with magic. Either way, it won’t take long.”

Eating food cooked by magic sounds like an experience I need in my life—and after the night I had, a plate of warm, fluffy carbs is in order. “Pancakes would be nice. With maple syrup. ”

A tablet at the far end of the table shows the menu, and she pulls it toward her. She taps buttons for two orders of pancakes. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please. Black.”

She taps that too. “And here you’re witnessing a new and exciting form of magic called the internet and an app.”

I laugh.

Her cheeks dimple as she slides the tablet back to its place. “Technology has become better than magic in a few areas, to be honest.”

Her tone is brighter this morning, her posture less guarded. Maybe a weight has been lifted now that I know her secret.

I put my elbows on the table and lean forward. “So, have you decided how we’re going to test my ability?”

She slings an arm across the back of the booth, cocking an eyebrow. “Persistent.”

I return my own sassy eyebrow. “We don’t have long. How quickly will the Shadows catch Freddie Madsen?”

Her lips twist. “Could be a couple days, could be a week, could be longer. But it turns out we are, in fact, going to test you this morning.”

I sit taller, her words sending a shock through me. “Seriously? How? Where?”

The tablet flashes green and pings, snagging our attention.

Natalie removes her hand from the table. “Lean back and tuck in your feet.”

I do, pulling in my arms and legs.

The surface warps and turns hazy, blurring the space between us. When the haze dissipates, I’m left with a steaming stack of four pancakes and a mug of coffee.

Natalie casts me a lopsided smile that makes my heart miss a beat.

Ugh, she’s cute.

“You can’t tell me that was the internet and an app,” I say .

The crinkles around her eyes and dimples in her cheeks make an appearance as her smile widens. “The kitchen is below us. They send orders through the floor. You just have to be careful with your limbs, or you’ll get an elbow full of syrup.”

I cradle my mug, letting the warmth seep into my palms. The dishes are porcelain with flowers and the cutlery is gold, reminiscent of the vintage tableware at my Nana’s place. The coziness and familiarity is a funny contrast to this exciting new world where I get to learn about magic and have breakfast with Natalie.

“So, the test?” I take a sip and let the rich brew trickle through me. That is a good roast.

Natalie pours a shot of cream into her coffee and stirs, the spoon tinkling pleasantly. “We’ve agreed to do it in a safe environment here in the CSAMM labs. The Alchemists are collecting a bunch of objects and cursing one of them. Fiona and I don’t know which item holds the curse.”

“A double-blind study.” The aspiring psychologist in me jumps like an excited puppy. “So if I prove I can pick out the curse, you’ll let me help you?”

“One step at a time.” Her response comes readily, like she knew what I would say. “Anyway, I thought your purpose was to be a psychologist.”

“I can do both.” It’s easy to imagine living here with Natalie, sitting in this lounge, enjoying this food, playing games under that willow tree… basking in her smile. I have no intention of abandoning my career plans and the people I love, but I like what this place promises—the community, the chance to learn about magic, the sense of purpose. I want this life, even if I’m not a witch. Even if my role can’t be anything more than Natalie’s assistant.

A knot forms in my stomach as I take a bite. I can’t screw up this test.

“Why is Greg in the dining area again?” A shrill voice shatters the peaceful air .

I turn to see a woman stomping after a fawn-colored French bulldog, who waddles between the tables sniffing for dropped food. The woman looks a bit like a French bulldog herself, with a stout build, fawn hair in high pigtails, wide-set eyes, and her face scrunched around her upturned nose.

“Greg, get out!” She shoos the bulldog, who continues sniffing without acknowledging her flapping hands.

A woman at a nearby booth stands. “Agnes, he’s allowed to be here.”

“It’s against the law to have dogs in a restaurant!”

The other woman mumbles something I can’t hear, putting the dog in her lap and feeding him a bit of egg off her plate.

Natalie’s expression falls in exasperation.

“I wish she’d give it a rest,” she murmurs while the women argue. “Familiars are free to roam the building, as long as they have a tag and are registered. We’ve had strict rules about keeping animals accounted for ever since a cat got into an Alchemy lab and aggravated some cursed birds.”

I laugh, which makes her lopsided smile reappear.

The longing to stay turns into an ache. If I lived in CSAMM, Ethel could roam with the other pets. She would love exploring, climbing the willow tree in the corner, and making friends with other cats.

“You’re not doing a good job of making me hate it here,” I say.

She folds her forearms across the table, leaning in. “Who said I want you to hate it here?”

I frown. “You’ve made it clear you don’t want me to stay.”

“There’s a difference,” she says, her voice low, “between that and wanting what’s best for you. Trust me, I very much want you to stay.”

The way her dark eyes penetrate my skin sends a lick of heat through me. It travels downward, tingling, and I cross my legs. I drop my gaze to my plate so I can get a hold of myself.

I want to believe her. I want to think my feelings are reciprocated. But as long as she lets ‘what’s best for me’ get in the way, nothing’s going to happen between us.

“Who are you ?” Agnes’s shrill voice moves closer, and a flash of pain crosses Natalie’s expression before she smiles up at our guest.

Irritation spikes as Agnes severs whatever tension had been pulling taut between us.

“Hi, Agnes,” Natalie says politely. “This is Katie. You must have heard the gossip.”

“Of course I— Well, not yet, but—” she snaps. Pink spots bloom in her cheeks. “I haven’t met with Fiona yet this morning, but I’m sure this matter was first on the agenda.”

“I’m sure,” Natalie says.

Up close, Agnes’s flustered air hits me like a gust of wind, making my shoulders tight. It’s not clear whether this mood is from Greg or the fact that no one’s thought to tell her about me—or maybe both, alongside a list of other stuff.

She crosses her arms, glaring at me through beady eyes. “You’d better be a witch, or else I’ll have to report Natalie for breaking—”

“We’ve gone through the proper channels,” Natalie says with an edge to her voice. She checks her phone. “Fiona’s expecting us. Shall we, Katie?”

Though she’s not done her food, she drops her cutlery and slides out of the booth in a hurry.

“Okay.” Nerves jumping, I gulp the rest of my coffee, needing all the mental alertness I can get. I rush after her.

Agnes follows. “Expecting you? Why?”

Natalie doesn’t answer, stepping closer to me until I can feel the heat of her body .

As she takes me down a corridor marked with a sign reading Alchemy , Agnes gasps. “Does this have to do with the items the Alchemists have collected?”

My gut twists. How many people are involved in setting up this test? Does the whole building know about it?

“Could be,” Natalie says vaguely, walking faster.

I speed-walk to keep up.

Agnes picks up a trot. “As a Director, I should’ve been informed about this. I was the one to implement our new screening protocols last year to prevent leaks .” She fishes into her pocket and pulls out a memo book and pen. “What are your qualifications, Katie? Your magical lineage?”

None, and none. My nerves twist tighter, threatening to eject everything I just ate.

“I’ll need your name, phone number, and medical records for the logbook,” Agnes continues. “Are you romantically involved with Natalie?”

“Um—” God help me.

“Later, Agnes,” Natalie snaps.

We pass iron wall sconces and planters overflowing with ferns. Arched wooden doors bear iron letters: Alchemy 4, Alchemy 5, Alchemy 6… In other circumstances, I’d be dying to peek at what’s behind every one of them. But I just want to get away from this woman and her prying questions. I need to focus on what’s about to happen, and she’s making me even more nervous.

Natalie stops outside Alchemy 8 and faces Agnes, a muscle in her jaw flexing. “This is a closed test.”

Agnes puffs up, her nostrils flaring. “As a Director , I—”

“You’ll receive a debrief from Fiona.” Natalie opens the door and yanks me inside by the elbow. “Excuse us.”

I get a last glimpse of Agnes’s crumpled face before Natalie shuts the door on her and her memo pad.

We both let out a sharp breath .

Jesus Christ. Her busybody energy is prickling my skin like an itchy wool sweater. Do I seriously need to provide her with all that info, or was she just taking it upon herself to do an interrogation? And was that the sort of treatment I should expect to get here as an outsider?

I meet Natalie’s eye, who grimaces apologetically.

“Ah, you’re early,” Fiona says behind us, her voice filling the room.

Jitters roll through me. I draw a deep breath. ‘Frazzled’ is not the state of mind I wanted to be in before this test.

We turn around to find Fiona, Will, and a man I haven’t met standing at a long, wooden table. The latter must be in his twenties, with wild red hair and a beard that gives him a sort of mad-scientist look. Fiona is in an elegant blue suit, and the men are in dark green cloaks.

“Well, let’s get started, then,” Fiona says brusquely.

I twist my fingers together. Breathe. Forget Agnes. You can do this.

Natalie gives me a look as if to silently ask if I’m okay.

I nod curtly and step forward, ready.

The room is circular, its stone walls rising into a domed ceiling with a hole in the middle to let in daylight and fresh air. Bookshelves and cabinets line the perimeter, and on the left, an oak tree has a bench swing hanging from its largest branch.

“I’ve asked Sebastian and his team to gather seven objects,” Fiona says, her heels clicking as she goes to stand against the wall. “Katie, tell me which one is cursed.”

I swallow hard. Right to business, then.

“I know you asked for unremarkable items, but I took the liberty of bending the rules a little,” the red-haired guy, Sebastian, says with a flourishing gesture to the table. “I think some of the team put a little more effort into the challenge than others. I’ll be taking this into consideration in their performance reviews.” He winks at me conspiratorially.

“This will do just fine, Sebastian,” Fiona says .

Natalie and I approach the table, where a row of items awaits: a succulent plant in a green teapot, an antique black typewriter, a bamboo tiki torch, a grimy orange traffic cone, a pink feather boa, tartan bagpipes, and a katana with a red handle and scabbard.

Given the fate of Rebecca the doll, I hope the traffic cone is the cursed item. I don’t want them to have to melt a plant or a valuable-looking sword because of me.

Will and Sebastian join Fiona at the wall. Will’s arms are crossed, his expression skeptical as he watches me like I’m a lab rat. Sebastian, on the other hand, meets my eye and smiles. He bounces on the balls of his feet like he can’t wait to see what happens.

Other than Natalie, he’s the first person to smile at me since I’ve arrived, so I’ll gladly accept the encouragement.

I pull my focus back, trying to ignore everyone’s attention.

“Just look. Don’t touch anything,” Natalie murmurs in my ear.

I nod, the tickle of her breath on my neck making it hard to concentrate.

With her constant warnings, I should probably start taking curses seriously. More and more, it seems completely reckless that I picked up that doll at the flea market. No wonder she freaked out.

As I study the row of items, a chill settles over me, starting in my face and traveling down to my belly, my legs, my feet. My heart beats harder as if in fight-or-flight mode—and it’s not just the pressure of the test. An invisible force tugs me closer to the table.

There’s a curse here. I can feel it.

A crinkling sound comes from along the wall, and I look up to see Sebastian unwrapping a KitKat. When he sees us all staring, he winces and raises a hand in apology.

“Sorry,” he mouths. He takes a slow bite, the crunch echoing through the quiet room, and Will smirks.

Annoyance flares. Is this just a fun little experiment to these people ?

Natalie shifts, and I turn my attention back to studying each item.

Traffic cone. Feather boa. Bagpipes.

The curse’s pull returns, and anticipation surges through me, a familiar sensation now that it’s hitting me for the third time. It’s a feeling like reaching the front of a roller coaster line—a bit of fear, a bit of excitement, a long wait coming to an end.

It’s here. Grab it.

But which one?

With Natalie at my back and Fiona, Will, and Sebastian watching, my heart rate stays elevated no matter which object I look at.

Agnes’s shrill voice echoes in the back of my mind. You’d better be a witch, or else I’ll have to report Natalie…

My fate aside, what happens to Natalie if I fail? Will she get in trouble for bringing me here?

I study the bagpipes, a shiver rolling through me. Okay, this is it. I need it.

Or is it the katana?

My face tingles as I lay eyes on the sharp blade. I step closer, invisible hands wrapping around me and pulling me in.

It’s one of these two. My pulse throbs in my fingers, like they’re itching to reach for the curse.

Natalie is right behind me, a warm, solid presence.

Will whispers something to Sebastian, who shrugs and chews his chocolate bar. Fiona huffs impatiently, her heels scuffing as she adjusts her stance. The sounds grate my eardrums, making my shoulders tense.

“Th-this is all distracting,” I tell Natalie, sweat prickling under my shirt.

“It’s okay. Ignore us. Focus on what your gut is telling you.”

I look back at the items, paralyzed. I can’t tell. Maybe it’s the pressure or all the magic swirling around, but I can’t pinpoint where the sensation is coming from .

“Trust your instincts, Katie,” Natalie says.

“I’m trying!”

“If it’s going to take this long every time,” Fiona says, “then it’s not worth—”

“It’s the katana,” I blurt, my mouth dry.

Oh God, please be the katana.

I don’t know why that word was the one to come out. Was that trusting my instincts, or was that a random, panicked decision?

Everyone turns to Sebastian.

My heart seems to stop beating.

Sebastian’s shoulders sag. He shakes his head. “Shit. I was rooting for ya.” A flicker of genuine disappointment crosses his face before he puts on a smile. “’Twas the bagpipes, lass!” he says in a Scottish accent.

A boulder drops into my stomach. No, no, it can’t be…

Natalie gives a tiny intake of breath. Will scoffs, almost inaudible, but the room is so quiet that it carries.

“That was my second…” I shut my mouth. Why would they believe me? I’m just some outsider trying to convince them I’m special.

Shame burns my face, hot and suffocating. I really thought I could do this. But all I’ve done is let Natalie down. After everything she risked to bring me here, I failed her.

Sebastian pockets the remainder of his KitKat and pulls out a vial. “A tragedy, really, to reduce such a noble instrument to this…”

He uncorks it and moves his open palm over the vial, using magic to lift out the amber contents. The blob contorts in the air, shimmering, before he flicks his fingers to throw it at the bagpipes. It stretches and wraps around the instrument like it’s alive, little fingers reaching until it completely covers its victim.

And as the curse pulses beneath it, I feel it more strongly than ever, beating against my skin. Frustration with myself singes me like a flame. The answer should’ve been obvious. I was just so distracted by everyone openly doubting me.

As fizzing prickles my ears, Natalie closes a hand over my arm and pulls me back a few steps.

The bagpipes make a pathetic, squeaky, drawn-out moan—which, honestly, is exactly what I’d expect dying bagpipes to sound like.

The lights flicker.

I cover my ears, ready for the explosion.

BOOM!

Where the bagpipes were, a plume of smoke dissipates, and a butterfly remains. Its violet wings twitch as it walks across the table. There’s no purple gemstone this time, but I’m too numb to analyze why.

I drop my hands, my frustration morphing into anger. This can’t be it! They didn’t give me a proper chance.

Sebastian claps Will on the back and turns around. “Well, that was a nice coffee break. Back to work, eh?”

Fiona lifts her chin, addressing Natalie. “After you’ve brought Katie back to her room, come see me. We have four new cases this morning.”

“No!” My voice comes out loud, and all eyes snap to me. “That wasn’t a fair test. My intuition got muddled from all the magic in here, and the pressure—”

“Don’t bother with excuses,” Fiona says, her tone cold and sharp. “I was kind enough to give you a chance.”

“But I know I can do this!” My voice breaks, desperation tightening my throat.

Fiona’s eyes flash menacingly. “You’ll stay here until we catch Freddie Madsen, and then you’ll be escorted home.”

“If you just give me another—”

“That’s my final decision. Agnes will draft up a secrecy agreement.”

Dread washes over me. I can’t go back to reality. Not after learning about magic and this hidden side of Natalie’s exciting life .

Natalie steps closer to Fiona, holding herself together much better than I am. “Even if we don’t use her to find curses, we can’t just send her back out there. We have to let her stay.”

“Your judgment is compromised,” Fiona snaps, her eyes widening in outrage. “We can’t keep an outsider around—especially with the recent information leaks. She hasn’t sworn the oath, and she’s not one of us. She’s a security risk.”

Shame flares so hot inside me that my face feels sunburned.

Natalie’s voice rises. “But even if we catch Freddie, the other Madsens will still come for her—”

“So we’ll send her home with a bodyguard, and if the Madsens come, we’ll get more warrants and catch them too. But her ability is either weak or unpredictable, which means she can’t stay here.”

I clench my fists, swallowing down the shame. She’s wrong about my ability. But I had my chance to prove it to her, and I blew it. What am I supposed to do?

Before Natalie or I can argue further, Fiona storms out of the room, her heels clicking on the stone floor.

My gaze falls to the butterfly, its wings a blur of violet as it takes flight. My eyes sting as I watch it spiral up, up, and out through the hole in the ceiling—leaving me with the hollow, empty truth.

My test is over, and the result is simple: I failed.