Page 42

Penny

SOMETHING HAPPENED TO THE GENERATOR. THAT’S WHAT DR. NUSSBAUM said.

Somehow the maintenance workers missed it. When they ran tests a week ago, it was working fine.

But in the specific generator that powers the section of the hospital that includes room 505, a carburetor got clogged. And when the hospital lost power after a drunk driver downed a power line, the fuel couldn’t reach the generator—and Anita’s ventilator stopped.

It was less than thirty seconds. They had portable batteries, and they got her equipment up and running again as fast as they could. Anita’s heart monitor showed there was still life in her, somehow. And the hospital’s power came back five minutes later. But it was a close call, Dr. Nussbaum said. A fluke.

Ron keeps asking Dr. Nussbaum questions, but Penny doesn’t bother, because this has nothing to do with the hospital staff.

It always looks like an accident.

Penny leans her head on the guardrail of Anita’s bed, clutching her mom’s cool hand with her own. Ron stands behind Penny, one hand on her shoulder and the other brushing Anita’s hair back from her face and adjusting her blankets. Mrs. Salazar appears next to Penny with Naomi’s nine-year-old twin sisters, Regina and Vicki.

“Penny, we brought tea,” says Regina, holding out a steaming cup so quickly that a little hot water falls over the side.

“Be careful!” Vicki says, scowling in a way that makes her look exactly like Naomi.

“It was an accident!”

Penny smiles and takes the cup. “You two are the best. Thank you.”

“Here, Mr. Ron,” Vicki says, holding another cup out to him.

“Thank you, but I’m all right, sweetheart,” Ron says, his smile not reaching his eyes.

Penny taps Vicki on the shoulder and motions for her to come closer. “How about you give that tea to my friend Alonso?” she whispers in her ear.

Vicki blushes and looks toward the window, where Alonso is perched on the sill, fiddling with the bandages wrapped around his knuckles.

“It’s okay,” Penny says. “He’s very nice.”

“He doesn’t look nice,” Vicki says.

Mrs. Salazar gasps. “Victoria María Salazar Menendez, we don’t talk like that about people.”

Now Alonso is paying attention. He nods at the cup of tea. “That for me?”

Vicki gasps. Penny gives her shoulder an encouraging squeeze, and she slowly walks over to him, staring at the floor as she holds out the cup.

Alonso takes it. “Green tea is my favorite. Thanks, kid.” He ruffles her hair. Vicki runs back to her mother, trying to hide her smile.

The door creaks open, and Naomi appears. “I’m back. And I brought more visitors.”

The note of confusion in Naomi’s voice makes Penny lift her head. Naomi stands back, letting Helen Barrion walk in first.

Corey’s aunt is skeletal. Her hair is a mess, and the circles under her eyes are pronounced. She’s shaking so badly, it’s a shock she’s still standing.

“Helen?” Ron says. “What are you doing here?”

Helen tries to answer, but the words cut off with a sob. She takes a hesitant step toward them, her eyes focused on Anita’s face.

“They became friends recently,” Penny whispers to Ron.

“Oh,” Ron says, his shoulders relaxing. “I didn’t realize.”

“Here,” Penny says, standing aside so Helen can take her seat.

“Thank you,” Corey’s aunt says, a few tears rolling silently down her face as she sits. Then she notices Alonso, and her gaze darkens.

“Alonso, can I talk to you for a second?” Penny says quickly.

He follows her to a vacant room next door, where he gravitates immediately to the window again. Penny stands across the room, watching him. “How was Dylan?” she asks.

“She’s fine, just wasted,” Alonso says. “I drove her home, and she was asleep the whole time. I don’t think she’s going to remember any of this.”

“Is that because of the vodka or the truth serum?”

Alonso runs a hand over his face. “Both. I don’t know where the truth serum ended and the alcohol began.” He pauses. “I know I fucked up.”

Penny drops onto the empty bed, her head in her hands. “We got answers. They weren’t the answers you wanted, though.”

They fall into silence. After a moment, Alonso says, “The ward is getting weak.”

Penny looks up, hoping she misheard him. “What?”

“Last time we were here, I could see its aura. But today, it’s barely noticeable.”

“Because of the curse?”

Alonso nods.

The world narrows until Penny can barely see what’s in front of her. “But Corey’s mom lived for years while she was wearing the ward. Why isn’t it working the way it should?”

“The curse is really depleting its power, and fast. It’s coming at her with everything it’s got. Wards can recharge when they’re not being worn, but we can’t take it off, for obvious reasons.”

“The full moon is in a week and a half,” Penny says. “Is there any way we can try the curse-breaker tonight? Or even tomorrow?”

“No.”

“But what if—”

“You want me to play by the rules from now on, right? Then we’re waiting until the full moon, because that’s when my power will be strongest. I’m not letting this magic hurt you.”

Penny stands up. “I don’t care about me. I want my mom to be okay.”

“And if Corey and I also die in the process, it’ll be worth it. I guess I deserve it after what I did to Dylan, right?”

He’s putting words in Penny’s mouth, and they taste bitter. Before Penny can argue, someone behind her says, “What did you do to Dylan?”

Corey is standing at the door to the empty hospital room, looking back and forth between them, his face tense.

“You’re here,” Penny says, trying to break the tension.

Corey’s eyes fall to Penny’s T-shirt. A strange expression passes over his face—one that Penny can’t read. She crosses her arms over her chest, as if that could hide the fact that she’s wearing Alonso’s shirt. Maybe she should tell him why she needed it in the first place, but before she can, Corey looks away from her, directing a glare at Alonso.

“I told my aunt what happened after you texted,” Corey says. “She was a wreck when she heard the news, and I offered to drive her here. But you were about to tell us what you did to my girlfriend.”

Alonso wets his lips, but he doesn’t say anything. Maybe he can’t.

But this isn’t Alonso’s fault. Not fully. Penny sucks in a breath and says, “I gave her a truth serum.”

Corey’s expression turns murderous. “What do you mean, you gave it to her?”

“Alonso made it. I gave it to her. You should be mad at both of us.”

“No,” Alonso says. “Penny didn’t want anything to do with this—”

“And I did it anyway,” Penny snaps, and Alonso falls silent. It takes all the strength she has left to say, “The Mayberrys are witches, like Milton said. But they didn’t curse your family.”

Corey is silent as he processes all of this. “You went behind my back.”

“You were never going to talk to Dylan,” Alonso says, his tone sharp. “Because if you asked her about being a witch, you’d have to tell her about the curse, and if you told her about the curse, she would finally know you’ve been lying to her this entire time. And it’s not acceptable for anyone except me to know you’re fucking selfish.”

“I’m selfish?” Corey says, his voice rising. “I’ve gone along with this entire thing even though I had no reason to trust anything you said, and now you’ve proven that was a mistake.” Then he turns to Penny, and the judgment in his usually kind eyes makes her want to shrink. “I really didn’t think you had it in you to do that to someone.”

Alonso steps forward, and Penny can see the trajectory of his fist before he ever throws it. She grabs his wrist and pulls him toward her, until they’re chest to chest. Alonso looks down at her, his body quaking with rage. His scent is a mixture of mint and sweat, as if he’s carried the humidity inside with him.

“Let go,” Alonso says.

But Penny won’t, and so he doesn’t move. She looks at Corey. “You have a right to be mad at me, but you should know that Dylan is okay.”

“Right,” Corey says. “Great to know you did all of this for nothing. Tell my aunt I’ll be in the car.”

“Corey, wait,” Penny says, because there’s so much to tell them. About the Shadow, and Charles and Giovanni, and the strange things Ellie said to Penny in her dream or vision.

But Corey is already leaving, and Penny feels whatever tenuous friendship they had disappear.