Page 28

Chapter 28

The Strange Limits of Earth Magic

M y whole body aches as I let Natalie carry me into CSAMM. My ankle hurts more than my pride, so I surrender to her strong arms, my legs dangling and my head resting against her shoulder.

Before today, the thought of her bridal-carrying me would’ve been romantic and exciting. Now, all I feel is anger.

It’s hard to give her eye contact after what Freddie told me, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s a storm cloud, intent on bringing me to safety.

“I’ll take her to the medical wing,” she tells the others, striding ahead.

“Go. We’ll brief Fiona,” Sky calls after us.

Natalie stomps down a corridor like a raging bull, and we descend into silence except for her rapid breaths and footsteps. With each swing of my leg, the throbbing, searing pain in my ankle flares.

The comfort of being in her arms battles with bubbling anger. Maybe it’d be better to wait until later to confront her about what Freddie said, but all the lies are eating away at me.

“How old were you when you became a witch?” I murmur .

Natalie’s steps falter, but she says nothing.

“Freddie told me witches are made,” I say, lifting my head and staring at the side of her face. “How old were you?”

Her fingers tighten over the back of my knees and around my arm as she adjusts her hold. “Our parents gave us magic when we were seven and ten.”

I try to picture little Natalie being told she’s about to become a witch—how exciting it must have been, and what sort of conversation her parents would’ve had with her. “Is that a common age for it to happen?”

“Give or take. Old enough to keep a secret, but young enough that you go along with it.”

We arrive at a set of wooden double doors, and her fingers flutter on the back of my legs. The doors swing open on their own.

“What do you mean by go along with it ?” I ask. “Would you have chosen otherwise, if you could go back in time?”

She meets my eye. “It’s hard to imagine any other life.”

“Hm. Why would you want to give up this power, right?” My tone is dripping with venom.

Natalie swallows, and her jaw tightens. She’s finally picked up on my mood. “We’ll continue this after.”

She brings me inside, where the sterile, white infirmary is at odds with the rest of the building—the only part not covered in plants and wood. Antiseptic burns my nose rather than the usual warm scent of greenery. It fills me with unease, like it isn’t right to have this sort of room in CSAMM.

“Doctor Sharma?” Natalie calls as she sets me down on a hard, cold bed. “The Madsen dog bit Katie’s ankle.”

“Oh dear.” Footsteps pad closer, and a woman in her fifties in a white lab coat tugs on a pair of gloves, wiggling her fingers. Carefully, she rolls up the blood-spattered hem of my jeans. “Ouch. ”

“Ouch,” I repeat, bristling at the understatement.

Natalie drags a chair over. She takes my hand, which earns a glance from Doctor Sharma—and despite my anger over all the secrets and half-truths, my heart softens.

The bed is the first in a row of four. A white curtain is drawn around the one at the far end, but other than that, Doctor Sharma seems to be the only one in the room.

“You’re in good hands,” Natalie tells me. “Doctor Sharma has been our resident physician for nearly thirty years and has seen it all.”

“Then you must know more details about everyone’s life than any other person here,” I say, lying back and covering my eyes with my arm. Between the bright lights and the shooting pains, it’s possible I have a migraine coming on.

“Mm, the emergencies I’ve had to deal with would shock you.” And with that mysterious statement, she gets to work examining and flushing out each tear and puncture—eight, to be exact. Two require stitches.

As she pokes and prods, a cold sweat breaks out across my whole body, even my toes. The room tilts until I have to take deep breaths and count the white bricks in the ceiling.

“Nothing looks broken,” she finally murmurs, “just torn up. No need for a hospital transfer.”

I don’t know whether to celebrate this or not, so I say nothing. Natalie, however, lets out a breath, and her shoulders relax. She stays by my side, holding my hand with a firm grip despite all her warnings about secrecy.

“Why isn’t magic being used to patch me up?” I ask, my voice hollow as I fight to stay conscious.

Natalie and Doctor Sharma exchange a look. Something transpires between them that I don’t understand.

“Because earth magic controls earth, not people,” Natalie says .

Her answer is simple, but that meaningful look wasn’t. I scowl at the too-bright ceiling, biting the inside of my cheek.

By the time Doctor Sharma peels off her gloves and gets me antibiotics and painkillers, I’m swallowing down the urge to vomit.

“Take your time sitting up,” she says. “No rush.”

“Thanks.” I rub my clammy forehead, still lying flat. “Do I need a rabies shot?”

She shakes her head. “Your bite isn’t the first we’ve had from dear Wyatt, and we can confirm the Madsens keep their dog up-to-date with his vaccines.”

“How responsible of them,” I mumble, sarcasm dripping.

When she leaves us, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and sit up, swaying.

Natalie reaches out as if to stop me from falling.

“I’m fine,” I snap.

She sits back.

There’s a pause while I frown at the mess that was once my ankle.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she murmurs.

I scan the sterile room. Doctor Sharma has vanished beyond the curtain on the other side.

“When were you going to tell me that CSAMM puts curses on objects in the first place?” I ask, my heart pounding as I dive head-first into confrontation.

Natalie stiffens.

I stare cooly back, waiting.

She glances past me at the shut curtain, then stands. She opens her hand, and a crutch soars into her palm with a thwap. “We should get you back to your room.”

I accept the crutch and hobble toward the doors. It’s too tall, but before I can say so, Natalie twirls her fingers, and I jolt as it shrinks to my height and positions itself comfortably under my armpit .

Show-off.

The crutch makes a rhythmic clunk as I move down the hallway. It’s a relief to leave the infirmary behind, the warm brick walls and hanging plants feeling more like home.

“What else did Freddie tell you?” Natalie asks, catching up easily. She hovers close as if ready to catch me if I stumble.

I set my gaze ahead and suppress a wince with each step. “That magic is stored in cursed objects. That you’re all hoarding magic and controlling who can and can’t access it.”

She groans, which enrages me even more. Yeah, Natalie, I’ve found out about the dirty secrets you’ve been keeping from me.

I try to move faster, but it just makes me wobble, so we’re forced to plod along to my room.

Natalie glances around and drops her voice. “Okay, look. Magic has a time limit within the body. A witch has to replenish every few years in order to continue wielding it. So, most of us store more magic in objects to make sure we don’t run out when the time comes.”

I squint at her. “Like a squirrel hoarding nuts for the winter?”

A grimace flickers across her face. “I guess so.”

“Is this why there are random magical objects everywhere? They’re caches that people have lost or forgotten about?”

Natalie stuffs her hands deep into her jacket pockets. “Or the person who created it passed away.”

“And once you’ve stored magic, you curse the object to stop anyone else from accessing it.”

She nods, avoiding my eye.

“So, my ability to sense curses…” I say, inviting her to complete the puzzle.

“Is likely an ability to sense the underlying magic,” she says. “When the Alchemists ran that lab test, it was probably hard for you to pick the correct object because they only fused it with a basic curse, not magic as well.”

I scoff. I knew the test was unfair. “Then to become a witch, a person just has to find one of these curses and—”

“And figure out how to neutralize the curse without dying, reduce the magic to its pure form, and consume it.” Natalie takes her hands out of her pockets, her fists balled. “It’s not just . It’s dangerous and complicated.”

We stop outside my room, and I glare at her. She glares back.

I let us in and limp to the bed, where I sit with a groan. Shooting pains erupt in my whole body, the drugs not yet taking effect.

Natalie paces my room, agitated. “We have an entire team dedicated to harnessing feral magic to prevent anyone from—”

“Feral magic?” I ask.

“Magic that flows freely in the world. Its natural state isn’t to be contained in dolls and vulgar fog machines, believe it or not.”

I narrow my eyes at the sarcasm but push past it, more interested in learning about this free-flowing magic. “What does feral magic look like?”

“It usually takes the form of a natural feature—a Joshua tree, a pool at the base of a waterfall, a coral reef. Magic can be harnessed from these sources.” She hesitates. “This is what Trackers are searching for. When they find it, they capture it, then fuse it with a curse to protect it.”

I huff. “Another lie.”

She faces me. “What?”

“You told me your dad was traveling to find curses, but really, he’s creating them. He’s scouring the globe for feral magic and going through the complex process of trapping it so nobody else can use it.”

“And now I’m telling you the truth.”

Too late.

“And I would make a good Tracker,” I add, though this is beside the point. “Do others have my ability too?”

She glares, then looks past me like she’s trying to figure out a way to avoid answering. Finally, she sighs. “To an extent. But I’ve never seen an ability as strong as yours.”

My chest inflates a little. Ha.

Still, she’s not going to admit I’d make a good Tracker. She’s as determined as ever to make sure I stay ordinary.

“Why do you have the right to decide who can and can’t have magic?” I ask. “Why do you want to keep me from doing what you can do?” My voice breaks, betraying how much it hurts that she’s been keeping all this from me.

She rubs her hands down her face, letting out a slow breath. “Katie, we’re protecting magic to keep people safe. The Madsens believe even the most dangerous forms should be a universal right.”

“But why are some people allowed to have it while others aren’t?”

She stares at me. “I really hope you’re not considering whether the Madsens have the right idea.” There’s a quiet desperation in her tone—a fear that Freddie might have gotten to me.

When I say nothing, she adds sharply, “Don’t mistake their cause for a noble one. They just want the money and power that would come with being the distributors of magic. They could sell it to civilians, the government, anyone who offers a high price.”

“And what about those of us who want to use it for good?”

She steps closer, anger twisting her features as she looks down at me on the bed. “Magic is dangerous, and it has to be regulated the same way weapons and drugs are. The Madsens claim they’re fighting for a free world, but there’s no freedom in the power imbalance that would come with it.”

The silence rings, each of us refusing to bend .

“I get that magic is a weapon and has to be regulated,” I say, trying for calmness. “I just hoped that…” I wave a hand, unsure how to finish the sentence in a way that isn’t selfish or naive. What, did I hope I was special because of my ability? Do I want to be the exception to the rule because I’m Natalie’s squeeze? I huff and change topics. “Have the Madsens ever managed to steal real magic? Or just Oaklyn’s dagger?”

She lifts a shoulder. “To our knowledge, they’re limited to the dagger. We have our suspicions about the dog, too.”

“You think he has magical properties?”

“There’s something abnormal about him.”

A chill ripples through me at the memory of Wyatt’s sharp gaze and chattering teeth. “Freddie already knew a vial is needed to neutralize a curse, but he didn’t seem to know much beyond that.”

Natalie freezes. Her face slackens, her eyes widening as if she’s spotted a monster. “What did you tell him?”

Oh. Shit.

“Nothing,” I say quickly.

“Then what did you mean by beyond that ?”

I open and close my mouth as her shock melts into something more dangerous. Her eyes narrow and her nostrils flare.

“I—I only mentioned Alchemy 13,” I say, hot shame returning. “That’s it.”

She throws her arms up. “Jesus Christ, Katie. What were you thinking?”

I try to stand, hiss at the pain in my ankle, and point to her instead. “I was thinking about how fucking angry I am that you’ve spent all this time lying to me about who you are and what CSAMM stands for!”

“So you agree with the Madsens, then?” Her voice rises, ringing through the room. “You’re ready to feed them information to help their cause?”

“That’s not what happened! ”

My eyes burn, fury bubbling up. I’m angry at Natalie, at the Madsens, and now I can add myself to the mix for carelessly throwing around those words about the vials. What if I compromised CSAMM?

Natalie runs a hand through her hair and paces, her tension palpable. “Katie, what you’ve seen so far is magic in its most benign form.”

The statement takes a moment to sink in, oozing through the cracks this conversation is opening inside me.

Did she just call the ability to throw boulders at people benign ?

“Earth magic isn’t the only type of magic,” she says. “There’s another that’s completely forbidden—and it could bring the world to its knees if the Madsens got it. That’s what you don’t understand. That’s why our secrets are so important and what you don’t seem to grasp when you’re out there throwing information around to dangerous people.”

This news hits so hard that I forget to be angry. Is this what everyone’s so afraid of? Not earth magic, not anything I’ve seen, but a power so terrifying that nobody can even talk about it? “What kind of magic is it?”

She spits out a humorless laugh. “You think I’m going to tell you? Fuck, this was a mistake.”

The sting of her words is worse than anything else, hitting me like a punch to the gut. “What was? Bringing me here?”

She says nothing, pacing.

There’s a sensation like ice sliding down my back. She can’t mean it. I wait for her to soften, to apologize for saying something so hurtful.

Instead, she steps closer, her expression stern and her voice low. “You took an oath of secrecy. Amazing, really, how quickly you broke it.”

Gritting my teeth, I stand successfully this time, steady despite the pain. “Natalie, I am not spilling secrets to the Madsens, and the fact that you don’t trust me is bullshit!”

“Well, you certainly told them something they didn’t know before.”

Hot, furious tears prickle in my eyes. My nails dig into my palms. All this anger and she doesn’t even know how much I’ve been telling Hazel. Is this dumpster fire of secrecy and mistrust really what I signed up for when I swore my oath? How does anyone function here?

“Get out of my room,” I growl.

Natalie stares at me.

I stay strong, lifting my chin. “You’ve lied to me, kept secrets from me, and now you’re telling me you regret bringing me here.”

Her shoulders drop. “Katie—”

“Out!” I roar. I want her to feel even a fraction of the pain she’s causing me. “I don’t want you here. I need to be by myself.”

Seeing my expression, she backs up with her hands raised in surrender.

Dropping eye contact, she leaves my room, plunging me into a ringing silence.