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“Begin the ritual,” she said.
And then she melted into the darkness. Instantly, six hooded figures moved into the circle. Each one picked up a knife. My heart slammed into my rib cage over and over and over again as I fixated on the point of the knife closest to me.
“No!” Astrid shouted. “You can’t do this!”
“This isn’t happening,” Lorna said over and over again, still shaking her head. “This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening.”
Missy continued shouting about being a legacy, and Constance was just screaming out of control. Her eyes were wild as she struggled against her ropes, and I felt as if my heart were slowly tearing with each shriek.
“Reed! Reed!” Kiki cried.
I somehow tore my eyes away from the knife, which was being walked slowly in my direction. The six wielders were muttering something under their breath—something like a chant—but I couldn’t make out the words.
Kiki flicked her head back and I looked down at her hands. She was holding her left hand out, palm to the side, but her wrists were still bound. I looked back at her face, my brow knit.
“What?” I demanded.
She mouthed one word. “Ventus.”
She couldn’t be serious. She wanted to try a spell? That was her master plan? Her eyes widened, prodding me. From the corner of my eye, I saw the person before me lift the dagger with both hands. I had about ten seconds to live. I nodded to Kiki, turned my hand so that the palm faced left as well, and shouted.
“VENTUS!”
Suddenly, a vicious wind whipped around the room, flinging my hair in front of my face, pelting my blood-soaked cheeks with dirt, stinging my eyes. I turned my head away from it to protect myself and heard knives clang to the floor. Someone screamed. Dimly I saw one of the robed figures crawling across the circle, grappling for a fallen knife. Then Mrs. Kane exploded from the shadows, her hood blown from her face, her hair flying wildly in all directions. She grabbed the figure’s arms and pointed at me.
“Start with her! Start with the Williams girl!”
Shaking fingers closed around the knife handle. The robed figure stood up and staggered toward me, one hand holding the hood to her head. She lifted her arm and lunged. I closed my eyes, wondering how much this would hurt before I died.
Then there was a slam. The wind died. And someone who sounded a lot like my dad let out a guttural scream.
“No!”
A body careened against my executioner, knocking the figure sideways and slamming it into the floor. My father pinned the person to the ground, his knees on her shoulders, and wrested the knife out of her hands. When he whipped the hood away, my jaw dropped. It was Demetria Rosewell.
“Reed! Reed! Are you all right?”
Josh was in front of me. I began to shake from head to toe, with relief, with terror, with confusion. Had we really just done a spell? Or had the door opened at the exact moment we’d tried, bringing the wind with it? Was Josh really here, or was I dreaming again?
“Reed? Answer me,” Josh said.
But he wasn’t real. None of this was real. None of this could really be happening. In the corner I saw Noelle. And Ivy. And Mr. Lange. And Grandmother Lange. And about two dozen police officers. None of it registered, though. They were all characters in a play. Features in someone else’s reality. I looked back down at my boyfriend, my eyes dry and narrowed, blood still dripping onto my shoulders.
“Reed?” Josh reached up and touched my face with his fingertips. His skin was warm. His fingers trembled. “Reed, please?”
He was real.
“Josh?” I blurted. “Josh?”
“Oh my God, you’re bleeding,” he said.
Someone started messing with my hands. Tugging at the ropes.
“Josh?”
I couldn’t stop saying his name. Something inside of me had broken, and I was like a skipping
record.
