The Spell Caster

Chapter 9

LAYLA

H ours later, it was apparent that Datura had indeed not poisoned me, so I couldn’t get out of going. I wanted to know what Calamus had discovered, but I was mortified. Was this supposed to be a real date? I cringed with the idea that he would think I was in on it, artlessly trying to get his attention by having my mother set us up.

Then there was Costi. I badly wanted a friend to talk to about this. And I needed to talk to Costi about… other things as well. But I had only stared at my phone all afternoon.

Maybe, once we met up, Calamus and I could ditch the dinner idea and go to the library to talk.

I pulled out one of the skirts I normally wore, then thought better of it. If Mother checked up on me, I had to look like I was taking this seriously.

“Gross,” I said as I pulled on the simple wine-colored dress that I had rejected for the harvest party because it was too plain. “Gross, gross, gross.”

My lace-up sandals finished a look that could be interpreted anywhere between summer-casual and dressy, which felt like compliance without complying. Perfect.

Mother had texted me the time and place. My heart sank as I took in the romantic venue—an outdoor eatery with a tiled patio shaded by an excessive growth of leafy vines dangling from the overhead trellises. The small tables dotted with flickering candles looked full. Maybe it was too crowded for us?

My hopes were dashed on the rocks and my soul washed out to sea as Calamus stood up and moved to meet me, carrying an armload of flowers.

“You look incredibly lovely,” he said, presenting me with the cloying bouquet.

I gave a nervous, unconvincing laugh. Fate stuff me in a hole and leave me to rot. He does think this is a date.

“Thanks, um… you always look great,” I said without real feeling. My mind flashed on the way Costi had looked at me at the harvest party.

Calamus led me to the table. I’d never seen him wearing anything but formal crimson spell caster robes—a fitted tunic with a long, flared outer jacket. Tonight was no exception. He was attentive, smart, and kind, but he didn’t do it for me.

There’s really only one person who does it for me , I thought with a slow shiver of awareness. Costi wouldn’t be caught dead in a fancy eatery. I remembered stolen evenings, laughing and running, pulling out mismatched snacks to share on a seaside rock or a rooftop under the sunset.

Calamus had already poured me a glass of water from the pitcher. Seeing that I had joined him, one of the attendants brought us the first dish of the evening’s menu, a cold summer vegetable soup and a basket of warm bread slices. There wasn’t any room on the table for the flowers, so I sat with them awkwardly in my lap.

“I’m glad you agreed to meet me,” Calamus said, smiling gently. “I’d really love to get to know you better.”

“That’s great,” I said, trying to think of a way not to drag this out.

Concern clouded his handsome face. “What happened to your arm?”

“It’s nothing.” I stirred my soup around unenthusiastically. “I heard you might have an idea about my familiar.”

“I suppose I should tell you about that first.”

“If you don’t mind,” I said. “I’ve been worried about it.”

“I spent some time researching various texts about familiars without much success,” he began.

I nodded politely, nibbling on the bread. I’d done the same.

“I think I mentioned my interest in circle spells. I’ve been helping compile a database of sorts, cataloging ancient forms that are no longer used. You’re probably surprised that nothing like that exists already, but there are thousands of circle spells that have been lost to us.”

“I never considered that before,” I said, trying to sound interested. Circle magic was slow and boring, and after working the summoning circle so many times without success, I was ready to leave it behind forever.

Calamus nodded, impassioned. “Circlewrights have largely been reduced to making witch lights and other things of that nature, but in the past, they were much more involved in our fight against the angels.”

I made a noncommittal sound, shifting the overly perfumed bouquet of flowers in my lap and giving up on eating entirely.

“So, I searched through the database, and I came across something that I think can help you.”

I perked up. “You found a circle spell to find lost familiars?” Maybe he was onto something.

“Something almost as good.” He smiled. “I found one to contact Hell.”

I blinked rapidly in surprise and schooled my expression. “That’s… interesting,” I said diplomatically, all hope I’d had of a real solution draining.

“Apparently, we maintained regular communication even up until four or five hundred years ago,” Calamus continued. “The spell itself is a thing of genius. There’s a sort of object of power on the opposite side—in Hell, I assume—then we work the circle on our side—”

“And the councilors agreed to let you try this?” This was pure fantasy, a complete waste of everyone’s time.

“Well, yes,” he said, surprising me. “The Arcaenum understands the potential benefits of renewing our alliance.”

“Oh…”

“But of course, we’ll start with asking them about your familiar. Hazel, the library assistant I mentioned, has been studying everything about the demonic language that she can find for years. She’ll be able to translate.”

I released a slow breath. A demon language? Calamus had a familiar—he knew they didn’t have a language. And he’d somehow convinced the Arcaenum to try this? Were they just humoring him because his dad was one of their councilors?

I was saved from replying right away by the arrival of the next course, which I frowned over. It was a salad with a variety of beans, covered with chunks of red. Roasted beets? Disgusting.

“Calamus, to be honest, this all sounds… pretty implausible.”

He nodded. “I can see why you might think so. In the modern era, we’ve come to think of certain aspects of our history as a sort of metaphor, but there’s quite a lot written about all of it. I think, and there are many who agree with me, that it has more of a basis in reality than we commonly believe.”

I didn’t point out the long tradition of the non-magical writing up very detailed and elaborate religious systems. The presence of a lot of writing didn’t convince me at all.

I pushed my food around while Calamus speared a beet and ate it, as if it wasn’t an abomination. “The Arcaenum… they really think the old stories are real?”

“They do. They’ve put a lot of trust in me. It’s exciting to work with them on this,” he said with genuine warmth. “I’m planning to campaign for election in a few years, so I appreciate the opportunity to see how the process works.”

Somehow, that didn’t surprise me at all.

Calamus regarded me with a gentle look. “What are your future plans, Layla?”

And just like that, this conversation was veering into nope territory.

“I haven’t really thought very far ahead…” But that wasn’t exactly true. This thing with Calamus? It was exactly what was expected of me. What I had imagined for years. Right until Costi backed me against the railing, put his lips on my neck, and slammed a destructive spell into my life path.

“You just graduated a few months ago. And you’ve been through a lot recently. I suppose you have time to figure everything out.”

“Yes. Well, this has been really nice…”

Calamus looked startled. “Are you finished eating already?” His eyes wandered to my mostly untouched vegetables, but he wisely kept quiet.

“Sorry, I’m getting pretty tired. There’s a lot to think about,” I hedged.

“Oh. Of course.” He stood. “Let me walk you home.”

I pushed back from the table, petals spilling everywhere. “I’m… sure you’re busy. There’s no need to go to all that trouble.”

“It’s no trouble, Layla,” he said with a smile as he hurried to catch up with me.

I kept my eyes trained on the bricks as we walked together down the main pathway of the Circle past who knew how many witches. Calamus, standing out in his crimson spell caster robes, was greeted excitedly by at least a dozen voices as I sank farther behind my flowers.

“Do you like music?” he asked, pointing to an open square with a wooden pavilion. A small group of witches were sitting on a bench in the shade, chatting happily. “They do concerts here.”

“Sometimes,” I said. The only music I could think of was Costi’s raw voice, singing a snippet of verse that was all that remained of his birth mother. “What are you into? History?”

Calamus chuckled. “I guess I’m a little boring.”

“It wouldn’t be boring to the right person,” I said, thinking of Hazel, the library witch who seemed taken with him.

“Really?” He brightened, glancing at me.

Had he thought I meant me ? I scrambled for a way to backtrack as we arrived at the courtyard of my coven’s apartment.

He turned to me at the bottom of the stone steps. “If you’d give me your number, I’d like to go over some details about the circle spell with you this week.”

“Oh… yes, thanks.” I handed him my phone. I had to admit, “I need to call you about our plan to contact Hell” was the most inventive line I’d ever heard of.

If the Arcaenum was going along with it, it looked like I’d be seeing it through with him until the inevitable cringe-inducing end.

I swallowed nervously as he punched in his contact info. I needed to let him know I wasn’t interested in dating him before he started naming our kids. I wanted to be gentle, though. It wasn’t a good match, but I thought he was a good man, and I appreciated him trying to help, even if it was sort of misguided.

Calamus handed back my phone. He cleared his throat and glanced down at my lips, taking a step toward me.

I shoved the bouquet in front of me so he couldn’t get close. “Thanks for walking with me. Have a great night,” I said quickly, scurrying toward the door.

“Good night—” he called as I barricaded myself inside, heart galloping.

***

The next few days were a monotony of reading through my library books without finding anything useful and continuing my apartment beautification project.

I was half-heartedly assisted by Sativa, who regaled me with stories about her lovers. She had three—all spell casters—and they had some convoluted marriage plans to get around the Circle’s requirements. She was in good spirits about the situation, but it bothered me. Every other aspect of witch society was based around choice and consensus.

I went to see a mediator about my parents, worried for my dad. If my mother had taken to violence, he wouldn’t be safe either. The receptionist expressed concern, but I couldn’t get a meeting for some time. With the influx of refugees from the Northern Sea Circle and the issues with dissolving our Council, they were swamped. I would have to find a way to check on him without my mother catching me. He usually left his phone with her, so I couldn’t call. But I could find where they were staying and wait for her to leave.

I hadn’t heard from Costi, other than a short reply to my text to see if he was alive. For the last few years, we hadn’t talked regularly, just catching up when we could, but since the attack, it had felt different. I thought it was different.

We still hadn’t talked about the party, and I began to feel nervous about him in a way I wasn’t used to, worrying we weren’t on the same page. Maybe he’d decided Holly was right after all, that I wasn’t worth the trouble. Maybe he’d realized she was a better choice. Maybe something was wrong . Maybe my mother had threatened him and was keeping him away from me.

I hadn’t intended on bothering him, but I ended up at the training arena around the time he should have been done with his shift. Several of the Mountain Circle casters were still lined up in the open practice area, their familiars beside them as they practiced blasting small spells at the targets on the wall.

I walked through on the opposite side to the back of the facility, taken up by partitioned rooms with training equipment for guardians. I peeked into several of them before I found him.

I stopped in my tracks, staring.

This room was set up with a machine that flung heavy chunks of dried clay from above. An approximation of an angel attack, I supposed—and a dangerous one. The floor was covered with sharp shards.

Costi stood directly in the line of fire.

He was incredible . Whirling with a sword that looked heavier than me, he moved like water, his broad shoulders flexing beneath his black uniform as he bashed one heavy brick after another, sending pieces flying.

It was mesmerizing and violent, like a thunderstorm. My heart twisted with sharp longing. I was supposed to be part of this with him. Supposed to be his spell caster.

The onslaught ended, and he lowered his sword, breathing heavily for a moment before he turned and saw me, startling slightly.

Sweat and brick dust clung to him. I wanted to run my hands through his messy hair and—

Fate, he’s attractive.

“What’s wrong?”

I blinked. I’m supposed to be yours. “Nothing’s wrong. Nothing new, anyway. I just… haven’t seen you.”

He laid the sword on a bench, grabbing a towel to wipe his face.

“Are you okay?” I tried to catch his stormy eyes.

“Yeah,” he growled, grabbing a water bottle to take a swig, his throat working. “No,” he amended quietly.

“What is it? Did my mother—”

Costi shook his head. “Nothing like that.”

He turned away from me, adjusting the straps on what looked like a sword sheath. He wouldn’t look at me. Something was wrong.

“You and Grey, huh?”

“What?” My brain blinked an error message.

“He took you out.”

Oh. “You heard about that?”

“He hasn’t shut up about it for days,” Costi said, throwing gear into a duffel bag recklessly. “Seems real caught up in you.”

Costi turned to me then, and the raw look on his face made my insides churn and my heart flip over.

He really thinks… he’s actually…

“It’s not like that,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself. “My mother and his dad got together and cooked up this scheme. Then he seemed like he was all into it. But I don’t want that… with him.”

He tilted his head slightly. He looked… relieved. “No?”

“Of course not! He’s way too smiley. I’ve been waiting to talk to him, to make sure he knows I’m not interested.”

Costi looked at me and gave a half grin. “You gonna break his little heart, Layla?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve known him for all of two weeks. I doubt his heart will be broken.”

“Not so sure about that,” he muttered, then brought a hand to the back of his neck. “You like that kinda thing? Getting flowers? Going out to eateries and stuff?”

The memory of a preteen Costi setting a woven flower crown on my head flashed through my mind. “Not that eatery,” I said. “They gave me roasted beets.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Thought he liked you.”

“Right?” I let out a breath. “I think he likes the idea of me. Everything my mother talks up. He doesn’t know me.” Not like you do. “Anyway, I have to see him again soon. I only agreed to meet him because he said he had a solution for my familiar problem.”

His eyes narrowed. “What kind of solution?”

I dropped my face into my hands and groaned. “You won’t believe this. He thinks he’s going to contact Hell.”

“He’s gonna what ?” I looked up to see Costi’s face scrunched in disbelief.

“Exactly!” I threw my hands up. Finally, someone with some sense . “He found some ancient circle spell diagram, and he’s convinced he can use it to communicate with Hell—like he’s just going to call them up and ask where my familiar is.”

Costi made a disgusted noise and folded his powerful arms. “I’m coming with you. He’s gonna blow shit up with his random spells.”

“I don’t think you can. The Arcaenum and my mother are involved.”

He swore. “Grey is my spell caster,” he pointed out.

“They still won’t let you,” I said. “It’s not like it’s going to do anything, anyway. He’s going to spend hours tracing nonsense, and then everyone will remember that demons can’t talk.”

He frowned. “Yeah, probably.”

“If I survive the cataclysmic levels of secondhand embarrassment, I’ll give you a play-by-play of Calamus making a fool out of himself.”

Costi gave a dark chuckle that sounded downright evil. He really didn’t like the spell caster.

I kicked a piece of clay and slid my foot around, gathering courage. “Did you… want to talk about the party?” I asked carefully.

He froze, then leveled me with a look that sent my heartrate racing. “You mean the party where you sauntered around all night in the hottest dress I ever saw, with no idea everyone was drooling over you, and then you wound me up so bad, I couldn’t think straight for days? That party?”

I blinked. “Yes, that party,” I squeaked.

He smiled faintly, then slid his hand up my arm to cup my face gently. “Yeah, I think we should talk about that party, heartbreaker.”

I leaned into him, placing my hands against his chest. I was trembling. It was already too late, and I knew it. Going back to friendship wasn’t an option. Once we put it into words, everything would change.

“Blackthorn? Are you back here?”

We sprang apart like naughty children.

Calamus appeared, overdressed as usual. He lit up when he saw me. “Layla! I’ve been hoping to see you.”

“Listen,” I said, my heart still pounding. I had to stop this. “Calamus—”

“Unfortunately, we’re on rotation, so we’ll have to talk later,” he interrupted, then turned to Costi. “An angel nest has been pinpointed outside Charleston. We need to leave immediately.”

“Text me,” Costi growled at him.

“I did send a message,” Calamus countered mildly. “You don’t seem to read them. Do you have the gear you need? We’re running a bit late.”

“I’ll use this stuff,” Costi grumbled, grabbing his bag from the bench.

They both turned to me.

I dropped my eyes to the floor, unable to say any of the things I needed to.

“Be careful,” I settled on.

***

I knew—in theory—that there was a reason Costi did all that training. But it was a different thing altogether to think about him actually going on missions and facing down angels.

I tried to remind myself that the attack we’d encountered was singular, not something he’d have to face again. Normal guardian duties were routine. It was like exterminating pests—particularly nasty ones, but just pests.

The team would wait until evening when the angels roosted, and then several spell casters would coordinate to burn the nest. Guardians would knock back anything they missed while they powered up their second round of spells. It was rarely complicated.

Calamus was talented and thorough. He would do a good job, and Costi wouldn’t be in any danger.

I was aware of all of this, but I was still worried, unable to sleep. At half past midnight, my anxiety reached a fever pitch, causing me to tremble with adrenaline. It was taking too long. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

I’m worried. Let me know when you’re on the way back , I texted Costi.

Hours crawled by as I lay on my bed in turmoil, unable to calm myself. It was past four in the morning when my phone finally pinged: Outside .

I flew out of the apartment in my pajamas and bare feet, only releasing my breath when I had Costi in my sight. He moved with a torturous limp, trying to make it through the mostly dark garden.

Oh fate , he was not okay.

I dashed toward him. He tried to pull me to him, and we both nearly collapsed under his weight. With a grunt, he slammed a hand against the trunk of the tree to keep us upright.

“You need the infirmary!” I wailed.

“Just came from there.” He grimaced. “I’m a little worse off than I thought, though.”

“You shouldn’t have left!”

He choked out a laugh. “Want me to go back?”

“Stop it! What in Hell’s name happened? Can you make it inside?”

He leaned on me heavily as we awkwardly maneuvered him to my bed, where he dropped. I flipped on the side light and gasped.

The left leg of his uniform had been ripped off entirely, the thigh above his knee wrapped tightly in a serious-looking bandage. The rest of his clothing was in bad shape, and he had a nasty bruise on his jaw.

He grabbed at his ruined shirt and cursed. I helped him remove it and found yet another bandage, the older wound from the attack that he hadn’t let heal properly and had reopened in whatever skirmish he’d just been in.

“Costi,” I whispered through tears. “What on earth?”

“It was a fucking massacre,” he spat out through gritted teeth. “They knew we were coming.”

“What— how? ” I began unlacing his left boot, picking at the complicated knot he’d made.

“I don’t know . It was like fighting people , Layla. They were lined up and ready. They were shooting light beam weapons—that’s how I got burned.”

I couldn’t form a response as I finally got his boots off. He lay back, looking relieved.

“One of the spell casters didn’t make it. At least one. The angels knew to target them.”

I shuddered. “They’ve gotten smarter somehow.”

Costi made a noise of agreement, his eyelids dropping. I fetched a damp cloth from the bathroom and cleaned his face and neck as best I could. He submitted with a smirk but didn’t open his eyes. The older cut on his forehead had soot smashed into it and looked like it was going to leave a scar.

I stepped outside to call the infirmary and received a scolding on his behalf. I rolled my eyes. Trying to keep Costi contained was like trying to build a fence to keep the sea in. They instructed me to pick up his first aid supplies later in the morning—bandages, burn cream, antibiotics, painkillers. Fate .

When I returned to my bedroom, Costi’s breathing was heavy and even. He was sprawled sideways, taking up most of my bed. I could have used the room’s second bed, but I wanted to be near him, to know he was alive and breathing, so I curled up beside him, careful not to bump him.

I was achingly tired, but my thoughts continued to keep me awake. I hadn’t spent much time considering the future or how the world worked, and now those things loomed, uncertainties building on uncertainties into a terrifying unknown. The knowledge of our lack of control and our fragile mortality made me tremble.

My restless movements must have woken Costi, as he rolled carefully to put an arm over me. He smelled like ashes as he pulled me close. He didn’t ask what was wrong. He understood without a word.