20. The Girl Who Brings the Weather #2
“I would’ve paid good money to see that,” Elias murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.
His leg pressed more firmly against hers, and she became acutely aware of how little space they actually had on this bench.
The vintage car’s original designers had apparently believed personal space was for cowards.
“I accidentally portaled into a shark tank,” she whispered back.
“A what?!”
“Oklahoma Aquarium.”
“Oh my. And where is that exactly, Oklahoma City?”
She shook her head. “Jenks. Jenks, Oklahoma.”
“Please tell me you at least got a postcard.”
“Too busy not drowning.”
He nudged her affectionately. “Such a rookie.”
Luna recognized most of the coven from her previous visits.
Adrienne, for example, who was still looking like she could bench-press a Honda.
She sat diagonally across from them, her eyes sharp and assessing.
All of them watched her with that particular mixture of fondness and wariness usually reserved for beloved but destructive pets.
But Luna relaxed slightly despite the tension. It’s going to work out, she thought. I can feel it.
Elias cleared his throat and straightened up, adopting his more formal posture. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet during her presentation, letting her take the lead. Now he leaned forward and every witch in the car turned to watch the newcomer.
“If I may . . .” He spoke in a smooth, reasonable tone that must’ve gotten him both into and out of a lifetime of sticky situations. “I understand your hesitation. But consider what’s at stake. This isn’t about Luna’s track record—”
“Which is colorful,” Hector interjected.
“—very colorful,” Diego agreed.
“Undoubtedly. But we’re talking about preventing a catastrophe that affects all of us.” Elias paused, and when he continued, his voice had lost some of its polish. He sounded more honest, somehow. But Luna couldn’t help but wonder if that was part of the act, too.
“Friends, I’ve spent my entire life studying how people think.
What makes them act against their own self-interest. And I’m telling you: if you make any kind of power easily available?
Folks won’t just use it; they’ll use it constantly, casually, without thinking.
And if regular citizens are just running around, casting spells on one another?
That could mean the end of free will as we know it. ”
An older woman Luna didn’t recognize spoke up from a seat near the back. “You’re the time traveler. The con man.”
“Confidence man,” Elias corrected automatically. Then, catching himself: “But yes. That’s me.”
“And you propose to use our tokens to manipulate investors into overfunding this CastR venture?”
“I propose to use your tokens to influence decisions they were already inclined to make,” Elias said carefully. “There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” The woman’s voice wasn’t unkind, just skeptical.
Diego relaxed in his throne, exchanging a heavy look with his brother. “Luna. Mr. Shaw. I appreciate that you believe this threat is real. I do. But you have to understand, in this city, we hear about apocalyptic magical threats roughly once a month.”
“Last week someone tried to convince us that pigeons were being enchanted to steal souls,” Hector added. “Another time, it was cursed hot dogs in Times Square.”
“This is different—” Luna started.
“They all say that.” An elderly man in the middle of the car spoke up. His voice was matter-of-fact rather than dismissive. “But it always turns out to be either a misunderstanding or an outright scam.”
“Ashton Vex is not running a scam,” Luna said firmly. “He’s a true believer. That’s what makes him dangerous.”
“Maybe.” Diego didn’t sound convinced. “Or maybe he’s just another con man like you. Another shyster who—”
Elias’s eyes widened. “I’ll endeavor not to take offense to that, sir.”
But Hector just finished the thought “—who claims he’s discovered something revolutionary when really he’s just repackaged old parlor tricks.”
“We’ve seen his demonstration,” Elias said, and Luna heard the frustration creeping into his voice. “We were there. The spells worked.”
“Stage magic,” someone muttered from the back.
“Elaborate special effects,” another voice agreed.
Luna wanted to scream. “What would it take to convince you?”
“Honestly?” Hector said. “We’d need to see real proof. Not hearsay about demonstrations. Actual evidence that this app can do what you claim it can do.”
Diego’s tone was gentle but firm. “With all respect to you, Luna, we can’t hand over the tokens based on the hunch of a few small-town witches from Connecticut. These are sacred objects. Too dangerous, too powerful. We need certainty, not panic.”
The vintage subway car fell into an uncomfortable silence. I can’t believe it’s going to end this way. After everything, after the planning and the preparation and the desperate portal to New York, they were going to walk out of here empty-handed.
“Well,” Adrienne said, her voice cutting through the gloom with determined cheerfulness. “There’s an easy way to settle this, isn’t there?”
Luna looked up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the app. CastR.” Adrienne pulled out her phone with a flourish. “Vex has been all over social media promising early access to ‘select users.’ Let’s just see what all the fuss is about.”
“Adrienne—” Diego’s voice held a warning note.
“Oh, come on. If it’s a scam, we’ll know in seconds. And if it’s not . . .” She trailed off, her expression turning mischievous. “Well, then we’ll know that too.”
Her fingers moved across the screen with practiced efficiency.
Luna watched, heart sinking, as Adrienne navigated to the beta testing site.
The older witch muttered under her breath—a minor incantation, barely more than a whisper—and the air around her phone shimmered briefly.
“Okay, I’m in. Now let’s see.” Adrienne’s tone was pure Manhattan skepticism.
“Oh look, there’s drop-down menus, very convenient.
‘Persuasion & Passion.’ ‘Revenge & Retribution.’ So dramatic.
This is like a twenty-first-century version of The Craft. Anybody remember that movie?”
A voice from the back called out, “Fairuza Balk doesn’t get nearly enough credit for that movie.”
A ripple of laughter went through the car. Luna felt Elias tense beside her, but she couldn’t blame Adrienne. Seen through a skeptical lens, CastR did seem ridiculous.