“This is a horrible idea.”

Hunter waved his hand dismissively back at his cousin, ignoring her very correct opinion, and Cora gave him a glare that could’ve leveled a city. Naturally, he missed it. He was too busy staring at the books and antiques store across the street that they were about to raid at two am.

“I bet every door and window on that place is enchanted,” Riley said, rubbing her freckled nose as she examined the shop, and Cora pointed a glare at her too. The three of them probably wouldn’t even be here if she hadn’t encouraged Hunter’s crazy idea. “My scanner could find the weakest spot. A window or a vent grate or something.”

“That’s probably the easiest to open, right Cora?” Hunter asked, twisting around. “You can get us in.”

The three of them were hunkered down behind some shrubbery, directly across the street from Whimsicals, an eclectic bookstore very similar to the one Cora’s own family owned. It was a short, one-story building with a dormant neon sign and a cluttered window display, two whole towns and a full hour drive away from Cora’s very warm, very safe bed.

“I never said I was getting you in,” Cora replied, irritated.

“You came along.”

“I came along to convince you not to do this, idiot, we’re not breaking into a shop!”

Riley smirked in Cora’s direction before shifting her attention to her haphazard backpack, digging around inside. Her frizzy hair bounced with the movement and softly framed her face, and her dark skin reflected in the moonlight. Cora tried to ignore the pull in her stomach and brought her eyes back to Hunter, reminding herself that crushes, while admittedly distracting, were not worth forgetting why she was so currently pissed at her stupid older cousin.  

“So, what,” Hunter said, still trying to convince Cora, “you want them to get away with stealing your mom’s grimoire, which we will never get back, ever, unless we take it now. That’s what you’re telling me.”

“That’s not what I mean!” Cora glared at him, heart thundering in her chest. “We can’t use magic to break the law! We can’t break the law, period! And what if someone sees us using our powers? What if we get exposed? What if we expose our family?”

Hunter shrugged it off. “The Veil will hide us.”

“The Veil doesn’t hide everything!”

“Shut up!” Riley hissed, pulling out her scanner, and the two of them fell silent, though that didn’t stop the nasty looks. Mostly Cora’s nasty looks. “Okay, give me a second.”

Riley’s scanner, though not the most attractive piece of equipment, was definitely something to be impressed by. It was essentially a radiation scanner rigged to a Game Boy Advance, modified to pick up different kinds of magical residue with a program Riley had written herself. Hunter and Cora (mostly Cora) had helped her make it, and though there were some magical elements to it that Cora had to help with, Riley had made everything else. She was only a Marveler, but Riley was curious and smart and good with mechanics and computers, and she was Cora’s best friend–really Cora’s only friend, at least outside of her family–which enough for the Griffin family to trust her around magic.

Riley switched her contraption on and gestured to the shop, and Hunter grinned wide and glanced at Cora. Riley did the same. Great, two against one, as always, she saw how it was.

Cora huffed, annoyed, but she knew she’d never convince them now. And she wasn’t about to let them go in alone, not when she was the only actual witch present.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “If we get arrested or die, I blame both of you.”

“That’s the spirit,” Riley said, bumping Cora’s shoulder with her own. She and Hunter ran across the street, leaving Cora alone, fuming. Riley’s hair bounced up and down, her long legs bounding over the pavement, her backpack still unzipped on her shoulders.

Cora sighed and followed, ignoring the heat on her face. Not now, stupid, she thought.

They’d run ahead before she could catch up, but she found them around the back near a basement window, where Riley and Hunter were crouched down watching the scanner screen. It showed very low levels of sigil magic and none of the other kinds, which was good–often, low levels of one type might mean high levels of nastier stuff, like curses or daemon magic. Never a fun surprise, that. But this one seemed safe enough, so Cora knelt down next to Hunter and Riley and hovered her hand over the glass.

Stretch out with your feelings, she remembered her mom saying in her worst Yoda impression. The memory made her smile; Cora, like her mom, had magical abilities that were a little too akin to the Force. Telekinesis and empathy, mainly, with a dash of precognition. But Cora could also sense residual emotional energy, something her mom couldn’t do. She doubted her mom would be very proud if she found out how she was using it now.

She held her hand over the window, probing it out with her mind, and then, all of a sudden, it clicked. “Oh,” she said. A trace here, then there, a pattern in the dust with a withered fingertip. “I got it.” Cora traced out the sigil, following the ghost of an emotion in her mind; the symbol glowed olive green, and the window unlatched.

She grinned, unable to control herself. A glance at Riley and Hunter, who grinned right back, and then the three of them slipped inside.

Their shoes hit the ground with a thud, and a cloud of dust lifted off the floor. Cora coughed; the place smelled stale and tasted like rot and mothballs. Thankfully, they didn’t have to worry about keeping quiet–unlike most people in Boxchester, the Carroways didn’t live above their shop. They did, however, keep their most valuable items here, at least according to Cora’s Uncle Diego.

“It isn’t down here,” she said immediately, and Riley and Hunter knew better than to question her. Cora and her mother had a strong connection, a connection that extended to her mother’s grimoire. The grimoire itself wasn’t just her mother’s either, but the result of hundreds of years of magical study and practice, passed down each generation and reorganized by whichever eldest daughter had it at the time. Cora would get the grimoire herself eventually, and because of both that and her strong relationship with her mother, sensing the book came easy to her. She was the first person after her mother to realize it was missing. It’d been weird, like there was an extra family member missing from the house, a presence they’d never realized was there until it was gone.

The trio snuck upstairs, wood creaking beneath their feet, and after Cora and Riley checked the basement door and found nothing dangerous, they emerged into the back of the shop, staring out at the rest of the store. Moonlight streamed in from the big windows up front, scatting pale illumination across the cluttered shop and wooden slats of flooring.

“Cora?” Hunter asked in that slightly commanding tone of his, and Cora sighed and rolled her eyes–always doing the heavy lifting. She shut her eyes and held up her hands, probing the shop with her mind, a scanner in her own right. It only took a moment for her to find the grimoire; it was tucked behind a wall panel near the front of the store. She opened her eyes and led them there, and after a quick scan from Riley that showed nothing, Cora slid the panel aside and pulled out her mother’s magic book.

Hello, she thought, and a familiar warmth spread up from her fingers, like the grimoire was greeting her in return. Aw, you missed me, didn’t you?

She slid the panel back and stood up, smiling.

“Okay, we got it,” Cora said, walking behind Riley to stuff the book in her backpack. “Now let’s go.”

“What? No way!” Hunter stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “When we’re right in the enemy’s treasure trove? Let’s steal something from them!”

“Hunter, we are not stealing from the Carroways.”

“Why not? They stole from us!”

“Hunter–”

There was a creak from somewhere else in the shop, and the three of them went deathly still, frozen and listening for any semblance of sound other than their racing hearts. Someone is here, Cora thought immediately. Someone’s here, they heard us, they called the police, and now they’re gonna come down and beat us up and get us arrested and oh god, my mom is gonna be so mad–

 There was a small thud, and a calico cat jumped on the cashier counter in the back of the store, startling the three of them and fixing them with a disapproving gaze. His eyes glowed a greenish-yellow in the dark, and Cora got a chill down her spine.

“Oh,” Hunter said, obviously relieved. “It’s just a cat.”

The cat hissed, bristled its back, and extended its claws–in the dark, Cora could see they were glowing.

“Pretty sure that’s an enemy cat,” Riley said.

Suddenly the air was alight with electricity, and the cat meowled and sprang off the table, claws extended. Cora shouted in surprise and shoved a hand out on instinct. A wave of force flew out of her mind and the cat flew backwards and skidded across the floor, leaving a sparked and scorched trail of claw marks on the wood. Cora pushed him into an open closet and slammed the door shut with her telekinesis. The cat yowled again, muffled, and Cora heaved a sigh of relief. Sorry, kitty.

“Uh.” Riley stared at Cora, one eyebrow raised. “Explain?”

Cora winced. “Enchanted claws. If he scratched us, it would’ve zapped us, probably like a taser. He’s a guard cat.”

Hunter made a face and stared at his fingernails–as a shapeshifter, he could turn into any animal he’d touched, and that included cats. “Rude,” he said, no doubt imagining someone carving sigils into his own nails.

“How do you know he’s a he?” Riley asked.

Cora smirked and wiggled her fingers mysteriously. “Magic.”

“Ha, ha.”

“Okay, alright,” Hunter said, “I agree, let’s go. No more taser cats, let’s leave.”

“Look who’s spooked now,” Riley teased, flashing Hunter a smirk of her own that made Cora’s stomach twist. Hunter glared right back, but Riley headed back towards the basement stairs, and Cora followed close behind.  

“So, wait,” Riley began as they descended the stairs. “What else can you sense from cats? Or like, animals in general I guess? How does that work?”

Cora laughed and started to explain as best she could. Riley was always too curious for her own good, but that was what Cora liked about her. She made her think of magic in a different way.

Neither of the girls noticed Hunter swipe an item off the bargain shelf before slipping out behind them.

~*~

The Griffin family lived in Brooksdale, Minnesota, a small town where everyone knew most everyone else, quaint and friendly but not stifling. It was surrounded by pretty scenery that prompted a modest amount of tourism all throughout the year, which, as the owners of the only bed and breakfast in town, was very good for the Griffins. They also owned a shop in town that sold books, antiques, eclectic trinkets, and craft supplies. The former had come later, when the already large family realized their mansion of a home was perfect for a B&B. The latter had come first. It was, after all, fairly common for small-town witches to start off with a bookstore, and the Griffins were no exception.

The three delinquents (because that’s what we are, technically. Delinquents. No matter how Hunter tries to spin it, Cora thought) rode back to Brooksdale in Riley’s car, and Cora and Hunter managed to sneak into the mansion rather easily thanks to Cora’s extensive knowledge of the place. She’d spent most of her younger years holed up in the house instead of playing with the other kids–belonging to the town’s family of suspected witches didn’t do much for Cora’s popularity. Instead, she read books and learned magic and explored every nook and cranny of the mansion she could, discovering secret passageways and escape routes and even a hidden family heirloom or two.

It was more fun than hanging around the other kids from town. They’d liked throwing rocks at her at that age. Now they’d progressed to rumors and insults. And food, occasionally, but a skillful flick of her telekinesis tended to dissuade that after a while. 

Riley dropped them off before driving home herself, and Cora watched her car rumble down the street until it took the usual turn and disappeared from view. Hunter hissed at her to hurry up, and Cora sighed and trudged up to the fire escape.

“Did you leave something in the car?” Hunter asked, already halfway up the ladder.

Cora scowled and didn’t answer. At least she could always count on Hunter being about as observant as a brick to hide all her romantic endeavors.

Not that it was an endeavor. Her crush on Riley was more of a slow roasting over an open fire: excruciating, never-ending, and a situation Cora had undoubtedly gotten herself into and had neither the guts nor the skill to get back out of.

Maybe she should’ve spent more time with the other kids when she was younger. At least it would’ve bolstered her social skills.

Hunter, on the other hand–who had already climbed in the attic window and obviously wasn’t waiting for Cora, what a prick–never had to worry about socializing. Because everything always came oh-so-naturally to him, didn’t it. Star of the baseball team, high school heart throb, aced every class without ever needing to study. It didn’t matter that he lived with a family that’d been ostracized for years for being different; Hunter had moved in and taken the town by storm, and Cora, though she hated to admit it, was jealous.

She didn’t need approval from her peers or anything, she knew that. It’d just be nice for once.

But then again, no one in the Griffin family was ever destined for popularity.

Cora climbed into the attic window, pulled up the fire escape with her telekinesis, and shut and locked the window with her hands. Hunter had already left, probably changing in his room already, so Cora did the same. She padded down the attic stairs and snuck down the hall, past her uncle’s room, then her other uncle’s room, then her cousin’s room, then her aunt’s room. Her whole mom’s side of the family lived in this mansion, all on the top floor. Five adults, one senior citizen, five kids, and two teenagers. Hunter wasn’t technically from her mom’s side of the family, though–he was from her dad’s, her only paternal cousin, adopted by her father after Hunter’s mom had died two years ago.

Thinking about her dad made Cora’s chest ache. He’d died barely a month after Hunter had arrived, and Hunter had never stopped feeling like his younger, off-brand replacement. He even looked the same, blonde haired and blue eyed, so different from the darker appearance of Cora and her maternal family.

She slipped into her room and locked the door, placing her mother’s Grimoire on her bedside table. In the morning, she’d put it back where it belonged, and hopefully none would be the wiser. If her mother started asking questions, that wouldn’t turn out well; no one could lie to Lisa Griffin.

Cora changed into PJs and climbed into bed. By tomorrow morning, everything would be back to normal.

~*~

“Hey, Cora.”

Hunter knocked on her slightly ajar bedroom door the next morning before peeking inside, giving her a sheepish grin that meant trouble. Great. “Hey, uh, you wouldn’t still happen to have Auntie Lisa’s Grimoire, would you?”

Cora gave him a look and zipped up her school backpack, packed up and ready to go even on only two hours of sleep. “No,” she replied.

“You already put it back?”

“Yep.”

“Crap.” Hunter made another face, this one much more nervous, and slipped inside her room and shut the door. His hand was clenched around something. Wait a second–

 “Hunter,” Cora said, slowly, in a tone she hoped was reminiscent of her mother’s danger voice, “please tell me you didn’t steal something last night.”

Another sheepish grin in response. Oh, she was gonna lose it.

“Hunter–”

“Look, I just need you to tell me what it is.” He held out his hand, the item resting on it, and Cora sighed and walked over. He’d probably picked up some kind of hex token without realizing and Cora would have to diffuse it before her mother found out. Leave it up to Hunter to accidentally curse her entire family for the next two centuries.

Unfortunately, the thing in Hunter’s palm looked nothing like anything Cora had ever seen.

It was a small glass orb about the size of a golf ball with a moving swirl inside. Black and silver and gray, cloudy and static like a captured storm. To a mundie, it might’ve looked like a big, fancy marble, but to Cora, it looked like danger. Then again, most everything looked like danger to Cora, but in the magical world, that tended to keep her safe.

She reached out her hand, tilting her head slightly, and brushed a fingertip across the glass surface. At first, there was nothing, which was strange–even if Hunter was the only person who’d held this thing in years, she still should’ve felt some sort of emotional residue from him alone.

And then, like a bolt of lightning, anger shot through her fingers and went straight to her brain, filling her skull with screaming.

Cora yelped and yanked her hand away, stumbling back a few feet and blinking white spots out of her eyes. Her heart was racing like she’d just run a marathon. That was… that was…

“Cora? You okay?”

“Cora, Hunter!” her mom yelled from downstairs. “It’s almost time for school!”

She blinked again, her mind fizzling back into being, and realized Hunter was holding her arm, looking concerned, the marble still in his palm. Her mother was waiting for her downstairs, ready to give her lunch and hopefully breakfast. Her cousins were waiting for her to take them to school.

Cora focused on Hunter’s face and wondered how he could’ve gotten any paler.

“Get rid of it,” she said. “Now.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it, okay? I don’t know what it is, but you shouldn’t have it.”

Hunter opened his mouth to reply, but then her mom called from downstairs again, and Cora grabbed her backpack and ran out of the room, not bothering to tell Hunter what was wrong.

~*~

“God, I hate pep rallies,” Cora grumbled.

Riley chuckled and bumped Cora’s shoulder, which was about as much comfort as Cora was going to get from her. She’d forgotten, what with the breaking-and-entering last night and the screaming marble this morning, that today was the school’s most important pep rally. Not only was their football team going to nationals (which was, admittedly, something to be proud of), but the rally was being filmed on a national news station. Everyone was decked out in full school colors–Cora, luckily, had happened to throw on a blue shirt this morning, so at least she didn’t look like a complete buffoon. She still hated pep rallies though, mostly because they were loud. Cora and loud sounds did not go well together. They tended to give her headaches.

“Take motrin,” Riley said as they walked down the halls with the rest of their class. Cora told her she already had. Hopefully it would help. “And if worst comes to worst, we can both ditch and go hang out in the parking lot.”

“Can’t we just do that now?”

“You are not ridding me of my chance on national TV.”

Cora rolled her eyes, but she knew she had no chance of convincing Riley to leave unless she was actually in pain. Plus, pep rallies could be fun. Hunter was doing the dizzy bat this year, which would definitely be a sight to see, and Cora was never one to pass up an excuse to sit next to Riley for an hour.

Though admittedly, it’d be more enjoyable in the trunk of her car.

It was the middle of third period, and the school was filing into the football field bleachers, the music and cheering already in full swing. The younger kids were already screaming as loud as they could while Ozzy the Otter hyped up the marching band. The cheerleaders were practicing flips and chants, and the entire football team was huddled up in one corner, their coach giving them some kind of speech. Cora plugged her ears and sighed, settling down on the uncomfortable metal bench as she scanned the crowd for her cousins.

She found the younger ones where she thought she would, screaming loudly and waving their plastic pompoms, oblivious to the slight separation between them and their peers, the way the other students pulled away from them like they were avoiding a bad smell. The slightly older ones–her brother Oscar and her cousins Amy and Rico–were grouped together with what few other friends they had, excited but pretending not to be. And there on the field was Hunter, joking with his teammates, fist bumping the jocks, giving the younger kids advice on how to best eat a donut without hands or spin around bent over with a bat to your forehead.

Hunter was so likable. The whole damn town loved him. Meanwhile, Cora had a total of one friend that she’d inconveniently developed a crush on. Well done, Cora.

The high school principal shouted into the bullhorn, and the whole place erupted into cheers. As each football player was called onto the field, Riley and Cora talked about the math test and ACT scores and basically anything but organized sports. Then there was more cheering, a performance from the cheerleaders and band with a cameo from whatever poor soul was trapped in Ozzy the Otter today, and then the games began, with each kid being called out individually, just like the football players.

Hunter got a good amount of cheers, and Riley snickered as he lined up for dizzy bat. “You want to film, or should I?” she asked.

Cora shrugged, still watching Hunter, wondering if he’d gotten rid of the marble like she’d asked him to. He probably hadn’t–he probably wasn’t even sure how to dispose of it. Come to think of it, neither was Cora. She’d have to rifle through her mother’s Grimoire a little to figure it out, see if there was a spell–

“Hey.” Riley bumped her shoulder, and Cora felt a blush on her cheeks. “What’s up?”

“Oh, sorry,” Cora said, shaking her head. Think about that later. “Nothing.”

Riley gave her the I’m-not-falling-for-that look, and Cora glanced away guiltily. She knew that look a little too well.

“Dude,” Riley said, and Cora gave in.

“Okay, alright.” She winced. “Hunter stole something from the Carroways. A marble.”

Riley’s look went from concerned to inquisitive in a heartbeat. Cute, thought Cora. “A marble?” Riley asked. “What is it, like, cursed? Dangerous?”

“Definitely dangerous,” Cora said. Down on the field, the games had begun, and Hunter was prepped for his turn at dizzy bat. He looked determined. “It was… god, I don’t know how to describe it, Riley, it was like there was something trapped inside, and, and it was screaming–”

Hunter took off for the bat, and out of his pocket fell a big glass marble, which, if Cora hadn’t been staring directly at him, she would’ve missed completely.

“Oh my god,” she said.

“What?”

“He brought it, I told him to get rid of it and he brought it, that idiot, what was he thinking?”

“He probably wasn’t,” Riley said, and Cora had to admit she was probably right, but she was too busy standing up to respond. “Wait, hold on, where–”

“We have to get it,” Cora said, her heart racing. Something inside, something inside screaming. “We have to get it off the field before something happens to it, we don’t know what it is, it could–”

Her eyes had been trained on the orb, laser focused, not allowing herself to lose sight of it, which meant she saw exactly when and how a seventh-grader misplaced his footing and stepped on the ball, shattering a web of fractures into the glass that Cora could see, even as far away as she was.

Something in the air snapped, and Cora’s stomach dropped into her shoes.

“Oh god,” she whispered.

Everything very suddenly went silent and still, frozen as a shadow passed over the sun, and then a horrific scream burst out of the glass and shattered the orb into pieces. The seventh grader shrieked and jumped back, which triggered more screams from the audience, the teachers, the coaches and players and cheerleaders and band kids, and right in the middle of the field, Cora saw the spindly limbs of the most dangerous magical creature alive form before her very eyes.

“That’s an Other,” Riley breathed. She looked just as terrified as Cora felt. “Oh my god, it’s an Other.”

An Other.

Cora had taught Riley about Others when they were thirteen, a year after they met and six months after Riley learned Cora was magical and became her best friend. Cora’s mother had allowed them to leaf through her grimoire one night, fascinated by the magical creatures and spells and recipes the Griffins had kept safe for generations.

“What’s this one?” Riley had asked, pointing at a terrifying sketch that stretched long and tall on one half of a page. Cora had shuddered–even at that age, she knew about the fae.

“It’s an Other,” she had explained. “They’re a kind of fae. But they’re the only kind that actually eat human flesh. No one knows where they come from. They’re made of needles and shadow.”

Riley had shivered, and Cora just kept staring at the page, at the drop of dark red blood on one corner.

“How do you know that?” Riley has asked.

“Because my great grandfather was killed by one,” she said. Then she pointed to the drop of blood. “That there? That came from my grandma.”

Her grandma told her the story a thousand times. She had only been twelve, out in the forest gathering a special herb for her mother. It grew dark without them realizing, and a monster slipped out of the shadow of a tree and attacked. It clawed her father’s heart out with its spindly fingers and devoured it whole. Then it came for her, and she lost one of her eyes.

Others have no known names, her grandmother would say. If they did, simply speaking it would be enough to summon one and ruin us all.

And now one was standing in the middle of her school’s football field, surrounded by helpless mundies and already hungry.

The creature was all darkness and silver and storm, sharp antlers and needle fingers, five glowing red eyes, six legs, two arms, and half as tall as a goalpost. When it opened its mouth, its pointed teeth glinted white as fresh snow. When it screamed, it sounded like screeching metal.

Then it turned on the seventh grader that’d released it, and Cora was sprinting down the bleachers faster than she could think.

“Cora!” someone yelled (Riley, it had been Riley, she realized later), but Cora was moving too fast, too focused on the monster and not on the terrified screams around her. Save him, she thought desperately. Have to save him, have to save the kid, save the kid now and think later–

A blurred shape came out of nowhere and snatched the kid up before the Other could grab him, and Cora froze and blinked, her feet hitting grass as she slowed. Was that… a bear?

Hunter, she realized. He’d transformed.

The Other screamed again, and suddenly there was chaos, people running every which way, and Cora sprinted across the field towards the monster before the dash stampeded her. Halfway across the grass, she realized she was completely unprepared. Like everyone in the Griffin family, she had the exorcism spell for Others memorized, but what about the ingredients? Salt? Hazel? A spell circle? The banish word wouldn’t be enough to dispel it completely. How was she supposed to do this?

“Cora!” Riley yelled again, and Hunter scooped up another kid just before the Other grabbed it, and then Riley’s hand was yanking on her arm, and Cora skidded to a halt. “Cora, it’s a fae! Salt and hazel!”

“I don’t have any!” Save the kids, she had to save the kids, she had to help Hunter–

“I do!”

Riley shucked off her backpack and dug around inside as Hunter transformed into a bird and flew around the field, distracting the faerie. A moment later, and Riley pulled out a Morton’s Salt container and a spice capsule of crumbled hazel leaves.

Cora stared at her, incredulous.

Riley shrugged, blushing. “You told me to keep some on me in case I ever got taken,” she said.

“I, what? When?!”

“I don’t know! Three years ago?”

“Three years ago?” Cora stared at her. Why would she remember something Cora had told her three years ago? And why was she blushing?

Another roar from the Other, and Cora figured she could overanalyze this little interaction at a more fitting time. “Okay, okay,” she said, a plan forming in her mind. “Salt, hazel, circle, banish word. I know the banish word. We need a circle.”

“A circle? How are we supposed to make a circle?” Riley asked, her voice frantic.

“I don’t know! We carve it out? A rope?”

“Guys!” screamed Hunter, and Cora realized he had turned back into a human and was sprinting at them full speed, the Other fixing its glowing gaze on all three of them. Cora felt her insides turn to ice–never mess with the fae, Cora, her mother whispered in her mind.

She really, really wished she’d heeded her mother’s advice.

“I got the kids off the field!” Hunter said, chest heaving, and he stopped in front of them, immediately spinning around to face the Other. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize–”

“Why did you take that thing?” Cora yelled. The Other was approaching, slowly, and Cora couldn’t take her eyes off it. “I told you to get rid of it! Why did you bring it to school?”

“I thought it might be a lucky charm, I don’t know!”

“Why would I tell you to get rid of a lucky charm?!”

“I don’t know, because you hate me?”

“What?” Cora took her eyes off the monster and stared at her cousin. “Hate you? I don’t hate you!”

“Then why are you always treating me like an idiot?” Hunter was glaring at her too now, and he looked pissed. “I’m not stupid!”

“I never said you were!”

“Then why do you act like it?”

“I don’t!”

“Yes you do!”

“No I don’t!”

“Yeah yo–”

“MOVE!” screamed Riley.

Riley chucked a handful of salt at the approaching Other and shoved both Hunter and Cora in the other direction, and the three of them took off down the field as the Other howled in pain and anger. Salt was always good for pissing off faeries. Probably not for the best that they made it angrier, though.

“What do we do?” Hunter asked as they sprinted across the field. “How do we get rid of it?”

“Salt, hazel, circle, banish word!”

“What?” Hunter rounded on Cora, eyes wild and desperate. “A circle? How are we supposed to make a circle!”

“I don’t know!”

“Can’t you do that without it? Grandma did it without it!”

“I’m not grandma!” Cora was panicking, really panicking now. The Other was taking its time, licking what passed for its lips with three forked tongues, and its glinting teeth were curled it what looked like a smile. No time, no time, there’s no time, I can’t do this. “She was an incredibly powerful witch, Hunter!”

“She was twelve!”

“That’s not–!”

Suddenly, the Other twitched out of existence for half a moment, disappearing before their eyes, and Cora’s stomach fell five stories because she knew exactly what was about to happen and had no way of stopping it.

A second later, the Other had materialized in front of them, and Cora realized that she was only sixteen and really, really didn’t want to die.

And then it’s needle-like fingers shot towards Riley, and Cora’s mind went into overdrive.

“NO!” she screamed, and suddenly a wave of pure force ripped out of her mind and blew the creature back a good fifty feet. It tumbled through the air, all flashing and shadow and screaming, until it landed on the ground and skidded to a halt, its claws digging into the grass. Cora stared, unsure how she’d even done that.

Hunter and Riley–Riley from the ground because she’d fallen on her back in an effort to escape the monster’s claws, but she was safe, no blood, no missing eyes or heart–stared at her too.

“You didn’t use your hands,” Hunter said, stunned. The Other was climbing to its feet. Something was coursing through Cora’s veins, something she hadn’t felt before, but was somehow familiar. “How did–”

“You’re glowing.” Riley’s eyes were as big as saucers. “Cora, you’re–”

“Spices, Riley.”

Riley blinked and nodded, tossing her the spices, and the Other leveled its burning red eyes at Cora.

She could feel pure hatred radiating off it like heat from a car hood.

Cora narrowed her eyes. She knew what to do.

The monster howled and came bounding forward, loping on all fours like some kind of horrid beast, and Cora screamed and shoved her hands forward, propelling the salt and hazel towards the monster with her telekinesis. Riley was right–she was glowing. Hovering just above her skin was the indigo hue of Cora’s aura, a layer of light that Cora had only seen a few times before.

She knew why the power felt familiar–it was the same feeling she felt around her grandmother, around her mother. The feeling of power and strength. Of confidence.

She knew what she had to do.  

The Other got closer, then closer, and then the salt and hazel hit their marks, and the plastic containers exploded. Cora pulled every grain of salt, every crumbled leaf of hazel into a spherical cloud around the monster, and it let loose an otherworldly scream of pure pain.

Form a circle, she thought. And then she smirked.

“Tempestas!”

Cora yelled the banish word, and the Other began to glow. Silver and indigo, light splitting off it like the rays from the sun, and the monster was still screaming, sounding for all the world like a train wreck of steel beams. The pitch grew higher and higher, so high Cora wondered if her ears would bleed, if the fae realm could hear it, if her family could hear it in their mansion at the edge of town, and then it stopped; a flash of light, a bending of space-time, and the ever-so-slightest pop in the air pressure. And the creature was gone.

Salt and hazel drifted to the ground, leaving a dusty cloud in their wake. Cora stared at the space where the Other had been, chest heaving, body exhausted, the only sound in her mind the rushing of blood through her ears. Eventually, other sounds drained in–Riley and Hunter breathing hard, the wind in the trees, a slight crackle from the sound system they’d rigged up outside for the pep rally. Her vision began to widen too, encompassing the field, then the bleachers, then the people that had run off the bleachers and were currently crowded at the other end of the field.

Several had their phones out, recording or taking photos. The camera for the national news station was trained on the three of them, soaking everything in.

Cora could hear nothing but wind through the trees.

Don’t use your magic where people can see, her mother had warned. The Veil won’t hide everything. It’s a dangerous world for people like us. If you keep your gift secret, you’ll keep us safe.

Cora’s hands were still raised, she realized, and she lowered them, feeling awkward and numb and letting them droop. Her aura was fading, but not fast enough. The power she’d felt coursing through her body drifted away and left her sick, hungry, and exhausted.

She glanced at Riley, and then at Hunter. And then at the audience, the camera, the country, the world.

She sighed and closed her eyes.

“Shit.”