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.The potions classroom from Hogwarts, maybe?I walked to the kitchen island and trailed my fingers over stacks of books, a deck of tarot cards, boxes of salt, glass jars of feathers, grapevines, corked bottles of oils, matches, and dried rose petals.I plucked a card from the tarot deck—the ace of swords.Fitting, I thought, placing the card gingerly atop the rest of the deck.“What is all this stuff?”“Homework,” she grumbled.“Oh, my God, it is Hogwarts.”She gave me a snarky look and began to clear off an area on the island.“I’m playing catch-up with little witches who’ve been doing this stuff for years.”I pulled out a stool and sat down.“I thought you were training alone?”“I am.But I’m not the first student my teacher’s had.Before he was sent to the Siberia of sorcery—”“Schaumburg?”“Schaumburg,” she confirmed.“Before that, he taught lots and lots of kids.Kids who were much younger than me when they got their magic.Turns out, hitting my magical stride at twenty-seven puts me pretty far behind the rest of the pack.”“But I bet you make up for it with sass and charm.”She narrowed her gaze.“I make up for it with being twice as powerful as anyone else.”“For serial?”“Completely for serial.”I surveyed the spread on the table.“So why the homework? I distinctly remember a lecture by Catcher about how you guys don’t have to use spells or potions or whatever”—I dropped my voice an octave and bobbed my shoulders in what I’m sure was an Oscar-worthy impression of Catcher Bell—“but could funnel the power directly through your bodies.”“Was that supposed to be Catcher?”“Kinda.Yeah.”“Huh.Sounded more like John Goodman.”“I’m not an actress.I just play one on TV.Get to the point.”“This will shock you,” Mallory said, pulling out a stool beside mine and plopping down, “but it turns out Catcher’s a little pretentious about the magic thing.”I snorted.“I feel bad you’re only just figuring that out.”“As if there’s a way to miss it.Consider anything that comes out of his mouth about magic—except for the major Keys; he’s got those right—to be a matter of opinion.He thinks the only legit way to do magic is to will things to happen.That’s not true,” she said, shoulders slumped as she surveyed the piles of materials.“Sorcerers are like craftsmen of magic.”“Craftsmen how?”“Well, the four Keys are a little like painting.You’ve got folks who paint with oils, with acrylics, with watercolors.In the end, you still get art.You just used different tools to get there.You can use any of the four Keys to make magic.” She held up a cork-stoppered glass jar of white powder to the light and spun it around like a connoisseur might twirl a glass of wine before taking a sip.Its pearlescent sparkle made it seem extraordinarily white; densely white.“Ground unicorn horn?” I wondered.“Glitter from that craft store on Division.”“Close enough,” I said.I fingered the Cadogan medal at my neck, working up the nerve to get out the thing we hadn’t talked about yet—the speech I hadn’t yet made.“I’ve missed you.”She swallowed, but didn’t look at me.“I’ve missed you, too.”“I wasn’t there for you.Not like you were for me.”Mallory blew out a slow breath.“No, Merit, you weren’t.But I was unfair about the Morgan thing.I didn’t mean to push you; I just didn’t want you to get hurt.And that thing I said—”“About my daddy issues?” That one still stung.“Completely uncalled for.I am so sorry.”I nodded, but the silence returned again, as if we hadn’t quite worked through the wall of awkwardness between us.“Turns out, I was completely right about the Ethan thing.”I rolled my eyes.“And so humble about it, too.Fine—yes, you were right.He was—is—dangerous, and I fell right into his trap.”She opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut again.She shook her head, as if unable to decide whether to voice the words in her head.When she did decide, the words flew out in a rush.“Okay, I’m so sorry, but I have to ask.How was it? I mean, seriously.Grade-A asshole or not, the man is gorgeous.”A corner of my mouth quirked up into a smile.“It was almost worth the emotional trauma.”“How almost?”“Multiple times almost.”“Huh,” she said.“That both figures—as pretty as he is—and irritates.You kinda hope a guy who pulls a stunt like he did this evening is seriously lacking in the nookie skills department.And your performance?”“Mallory.”She made the sign of a cross over her chest.“I have a point, I swear.”I rolled my eyes, but grinned a little.“I was impressive.”“So impressive that the next time he sees you in that leather, he’s going to rue walking out?”I grinned at her.“Now I recall why I best-friended you.”“You have a faulty memory.I best-friended you.”We looked at each other for a minute, schoolgirl-silly grins on our faces.We were back.A few minutes and the replay of a few Sex and the City-worthy details later, Mallory was off her stool and headed for the fridge.“I have cold pizza if you want some,” she said, “but I’ll warn you, it’s a little.different.”I picked up a foot-long black feather and twirled it in my hand.“How different?”“Catcher Bell different.” She opened the fridge, pulled out a wide, flat pizza box, and shut the door again with a bump.I leaned up and used both hands to push containers out of the way, leaving a bare spot big enough for the pizza box.This one was from another Wicker Park joint, the kind that made artisanal pizza with goat cheese and organic herbs.It wasn’t my favorite, but it definitely had its place in my repertoire.Hand-pulled crust, homemade sauce, coins of fresh mozzarella.“How different could it be?” I asked.And then she placed the box on the island and flipped it open.I stared at it, tilted my head at it, trying to figure out what, exactly, he’d done to pizza.“Is that celery? And carrots?”“And mashed potatoes.”It was like being dumped all over again, but this time by something I never imagined would hurt me.I looked up at Mallory, despair in my eyes, then pointed down at the pizza again.“Is that a pea? On pizza?”“It’s some kind of shepherd’s pie thing.His mom was experimenting one day and made it, and it’s the only good thing from his childhood or something, and he paid the restaurant a buttload of cash to make it.”My shoulders slumped, and my voice went petulant.“But.it’s pizza.”“If it makes you feel better, they protested pretty well,” Mallory said.“They tried to sell us a cream cheese and double bacon—”“The official pizza of the Merit/Carmichael ticket,” I put in.“But Catcher can beg as well as the rest of them.” Mal smiled knowingly.“Not that I know anything about that.”I groaned, but grinned.If Mallory was back to discussing doin’ it with Catcher, our friendship was on the mend.Still—not anything I needed to know about.“That’s disgusting.He was my trainer.”“So was Ethan,” she pointed out.“And look how well that turned out.At least you’ve notched your bedpost with a Master vampire and you can finally move on.” She got very still, then glanced at me.“You are moving on, right?”Something in my stomach flipped over and clenched.It took a minute before I could answer.“Yeah.I told him it was his one chance.That if he left, the risk was on him.” I shrugged.“He opted for the risk.”“His loss, Mer.His loss.”“Easy to say that, but I’d feel better if he slipped into a profound depression or something.”“I bet he’s doing that right now [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]