“So, how come we can send you on a dream quest through Minh’s nightclub, but we can’t find a phone I’ve hidden somewhere in the room after two days’ trying?”
“How comeIcan’t, you mean.”
“Let’s take a break and think this over.”
Cally didn’t want to think this over, but a break sounded good. She sat back on the carpet, propped one elbow on her knee, and let her head slump into her hand.
“Talk me through what you’re doing,” Eve requested. To her credit, she never gave meaningless platitudes or hollow encouragement, but her brand of never-say-die bonhomie was wearing in its own way.
“Failing to cast a simple spell.”
“Well actually, right now you’re sulking.”
Cally turned her head enough to give her a glare, and it was irritating when Eve returned it with a smile.
“Fine,” she said, resigned. “I’m trying to cast a finding spell, using an incantation that I’ve now said so much I dream about itat night, while sitting in a circle that we don’t know is necessary, surrounded by four candles that have been replaced eight times, increasing the chances of Marcel noticing.”
“Okay,” Eve encouraged, like this was an analysis exercise on a Monday morning meeting. “And when you’re actually casting it, what are you doing?”
“Pricking my finger, wiping blood, holding the stone, saying the incantation.”
“While focusing on your phone, right?”
“What?”
Eve raised an eyebrow. “Youarefocusing on your phone, aren’t you?”
“Oh. Yeah, I suppose.”
“Yousuppose, or ‘yes, Miss Sullivan, I am one-hundred-percent focusing on my phone with all my intent, because that’s what—” She broke off with a gasp, a hand flying to her mouth. “That’s it! That’s what I’ve been missing!”
Cally straightened, perked up by Eve’s eureka moment. “What?”
“Intent!” She bounced on her chair. “Don’t you see? Every spell we’ve done in the coven that’s worked has been powered by intent! And your blood—of course. But if you’re not one-hundred-percent concentrating on your phone, there’s no intent in the spell. Does that make sense?”
Cally paused, thinking back. The strong desire she’d had to make the crystals glow, both for Amelia and for Mr. Alexander. Her commitment to Priya’s finding spell—reluctant, yes, but present. “You might be on to something there.” She gripped the obsidian. “Okay, let me try this again. Full-on intent.”
Eve settled back in her chair, but her energy still inspired Cally, demanding results.
She should be the witch, not me.
Cally closed her eyes. She needed positive thinking. Shehadto make this work, and they were running out of time.
Eve knows it too. Is that why she’s trying so hard? Because she’s worried?
Of course she was, and that was another incentive.
She thought of the phone, feeling the sense of loss and wanting to have it back as if it were the most important thing. Then she pricked her finger and smeared more blood on the obsidian. “Fáinne draíochta, soiléir go léir, faigh an caillteanach, tabhair chugam aréir.”
Immediately, she felt a pull, like her bond to Antoine. She said the invocation again, and it grew stronger. Carefully, keeping one hand on the obsidian and her eyes closed, she extended an arm in the direction. “There.”
“You felt something this time?”
Cally opened her eyes. “Yes, I did. But you asking that question means I didn’t get it right, did I?”
“Well… your direction is kind of off.” Eve leaned forward in her enthusiasm. “But it’s real progress!”
Cally frowned. “I don’t get it.” She focused on Antoine, and their bond tugged straight from across the hallway, where he slept. She shook her head. “I can feel Antoine, and Iknowwhere the pull is from. The spell was the same. So what’s wrong?”
