Crows of a Feather

3. A bird takes me to Chicago for summer vacation

I started started spending every second I could with everyone I knew that was magic. No one taught me any spells, obviously, but I tried to catch a glimpse whenever I could. Eventually Fiona gave up hiding her rituals, so I was able to sneak into the garden at midnight and watch her. I didn't understand what she did or said, but I felt the magic. It was a similar electricity to when I tried to open Killian's door.

"What did it do?" I asked when she was done.

"That was a ritual for anonymity. It keeps our home hidden from anyone who wants to hurt us," Fiona said as she gathered her things; her spell-book, black candles, herbs, a stone bowl with fine powder in it that glittered in the moonlight.

Everyone kept telling me that hanging around magic wouldn't make it come to me any sooner, but I did it just in case. There was nothing in the world that I wanted more than knowledge — I wanted to know how it all worked, what more there was out there, and most importantly what exactly had happened to my mother.

Uncle Killian barely stepped out of his office, but at least he kept his door open now. Mind you, it sometimes swung close when I approached, but every now and then I was able to go inside and watch him make notes on newspaper clippings and write longer and longer paragraphs into his journal.

A month before summer vacation, a new face appeared in school. He was in Amelia's year, so I saw him when we met up after the English class she had with him. It took me a moment to realise it was the surfer I'd seen at Ocean Beach with Amelia; he was wearing more clothes now, a leather jacket, jeans and a silvery dangling earring. He was cool.

Amelia didn't agree with me, though. "There's something off about him," she grumbled when we went to lunch, trailing after the gaggle of students that surrounded the new guy. Charon, Amelia had told me his name was. Charon Demetrias.

I couldn't tell there was anything wrong with Charon, exactly, but it was a little weird how popular he got as soon as he arrived. Not the same kind of new kid treatment that I'd received; the one when people talk to you for a couple of days until they realise you're not very interesting at all. No, he skyrocketed up the school hierarchy without lifting a finger. He didn't go out of his way to hang out with the popular kids, either. They came to him.

By the end of the school year, everyone knew Charon by name and as far as I was aware (thanks to Amelia, who against all stereotypes loved gossip), he had been invited to six parties already. He had declined all of them.

Amelia and I were never invited to parties. Me, because I wasn't friends with anyone in my year, and Amelia because she only hung out with me outside of school. However, the previous night she had informed me that Dennis was out of town and she had finally learned the spell that unlocked the liquor cabinet.

"There's not a lot there," she added. "Just cheap rum and some vodka. We can buy something to mix it with on the way home, though, so it should be fine."

Killian hadn't batted an eye when I told him I was going to be staying at Amelia's for the night. He had been on an important looking call, his brows knit together in a frown. I half-hoped for him to say 'no' because the only time I'd had a drop of alcohol had been awful.

My last class, which was history, ended early so I went to wait by Amelia's English class for it to end. It was on the other side of the school, so by the time I arrived, the quickest students were already leaving the class hollering and chatting, ready for summer.

Once the biggest rush was over I was able to catch a glimpse of Amelia. She was staying behind to chat with Mrs. Larson. The teacher pulled out her five inch thick planner, which meant it was going to take a while. Mrs. Larson liked to take her time with things.