Runaway Magic

three

As soon as my shift at the library ended, I sprinted home as fast as I could. The librarian had given me crap for arriving late, but I had more important worries on my mind. Honestly, losing my job definitely paled in comparison to the possibility of death, which both Kenna and I would face if Caellan figured our encounter out. And I knew he would, which scared me the most. Unlike other wealthy kids studying to be doctors and lawyers, Caellan was smart and actually deserved it. If anyone could put two and two together, it was him.

Guilt clawed at my chest. If only I hadn't let Kenna enmagick me. If only I hadn't stumbled into Caellan, of all people. If only... There were a lot of things I should have done differently, but it was too late now. I picked up my pace, ignoring how my shoes squelched through the sticky mud or my white hair tangled in wet knots around my face. I had bleached my hair years ago just so no one would suspect anything of Kenna. I wasn't about to let hours of convincing everyone we weren't dying of a rare genetic condition go to waste.

"Kenna!" I shouted, finally banging open our front door.

Kenna stopped in her tracks, a mountain of laundry piled in her hands and a strange expression scrawled across her face. She looked at me as if I had ten heads, which wasn't unfair considering my disheveled state. I knew I looked like a mess with my rain-soaked clothing and frantic eyes, but I was past caring (not that I had ever paid attention to my appearance in the first place).

"What?" she asked impatiently, shifting the laundry in her arms. "This stuff isn't made of feathers, you know." Then, she must have glanced at the clock and noticed the time, because her expression shifted to wariness. "Did you run here? Your shift just ended."

"Someone saw me," I said in a rush. As much as I wanted to pretend my run-in with Caellan had never happened, I couldn't. Not when my life was at stake - and more importantly, Kenna's.

Kenna dropped the laundry. She shook her head quickly, as if she could shake away my words. In her disbelief, a small spark coiled in her palms, twining around her fingers like a serpent.

"Caellan saw me," I repeated, stepping forward to grab her wrists. I pressed my own fingers into her palm, the flames hissing as they sputtered out against my skin. This one slip-up could very well be the end of us. Kenna needed to get a tighter grip on her magic, and fast. We couldn't afford any extra suspicion before, and definitely not now. We all needed to be on high alert. And that meant no magic, even if it was just a parlor trick.

"I don't understand...How?" Kenna asked, starting at our conjoined hands.

"When I came out of your magic, I stumbled into him. He noticed that I hadn't been there before, but I snapped at him and ran away before he could say anything else. I should've been more careful. I'm sorry," I said miserably.

"No, it's not your fault," Kenna whispered, letting go of my grip. "You always told me not to use my magic. I always laughed off your warnings because I never thought we could get caught. If anything, it's my fault."

Shockingly, a real tear welled in her eye. The last time I could remember Kenna cry was when our neighbor accidentally killed a foundling cat she had scooped up from the streets. My sister was an emotional rock, and seeing her this way scared me more than anything else.

"We just need to figure this out," I said, starting to pace around the room. Thoughts swirled through my head faster than I could parse them apart. "Maybe I can go to Caellan's and convince him he didn't see anything. It's been a while, but we did use to be friends."

Then, I wince as I remember the cruel words I threw at him before darting away to the library. Maybe we had been friends before, but I certainly hadn't helped mend our faded relationship. With our luck, he was probably more than happy to spill the beans about his spiteful childhood friend's witchery.

"What if -," Kenna began, before cutting herself off as the door swung open. Instinctively, we both stiffened. Mentally, I ran through all the possibilities of who could be coming in. Maybe it was our neighbor with a torch lit and ready to go. Maybe it was Caellan come to seek his own revenge. Maybe it was that sweet-faced girl's father from all those years to go, come to wreck the same fate on us.

But it was just Mama. Her arms were laden with pastries, a cheerful smile spread across her cheeks. It was always a good day when she came home with leftovers, even if they were usually old and stale.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her happiness melting away as she spied each of our faces. For a moment, Kenna and I stood silently, shifting with the knowledge weighing on our hearts. Finally, when neither of us moved to confess, I spoke.

"Nothing," I said quietly, burying the guilt simmering in my chest. Kenna looked hard at me, but she only pressed her lips firmly together.

We had kept this secret from Mama so eight years. One more night shouldn't be too difficult.

I was wrong.

Guilt pricked at my insides the entire meal. Every time I glanced over at Kenna, her face was impassive, schooled into a stony image of sereneness. If anything, she was more well-behaved than usual. Looking at her now, I wondered how she had gotten so good at hiding her emotions. Maybe she had been doing it for years and I just hadn't noticed. Either way, she needed to teach me some of her skills, because I couldn't stop my leg from jumping or my fingers from tapping against the table. My anxiety needed an outlet, and I certainly couldn't voice my thoughts. Not with Mama staring directly at me, her eyes creased in concern.

"Is everything alright, Sera?" she asked. Kenna shot me a look, the only crack in her statuesque facade.

"Fine," I answered, too quickly. I forced my leg to stop bouncing, hiding my spasming fingers underneath the table. But Mama didn't accept my answer, her eyes boring deeper into mine. "I was just a little late to my shift at the library, that's all." I didn't mention why I hadn't arrived on time.

"That's all?" Mama asked, resting back slightly in her chair. She even laughed a little, which didn't help assuage my worries. "You've been working at the library for a long time, Sera. I doubt one little misstep is going to end your career. Besides," she added, a genuine smile curling at the corners of her lips, "I don't think you'll be needing that job for much longer."

For a moment, my worst fears seemed brought to life. If I wasn't going to be working at the library in the future, that meant we were moving. And the only reason we'd be moving is if the town turned against us for our supposed witchcraft. But Mama couldn't know that, could she?

"Why?" Kenna finally asked, saving me from having to respond. Honestly, I didn't trust myself to speak without quivering either.

"Well, it turns out Mr. Kasumova is selling the bakery," she started, before breaking into a broad grin. "And he's selling it to me!"

My heart sunk. In a way, this was just as bad as if Mama had told us we were moving. Maybe Caellan had let it slip to his father what he had seen earlier tonight. Mr. Kasumova had never particularly liked us girls, even though he had no qualms with our mother. Not that I blamed him; Kenna and I were not the most well-behaved children in town, and we used to goof off all the time in the bakery before he banned us. But then I remembered that this was good news - at least Mama thought it was. So I mustered up a small smile, letting Kenna do the rest.

"Mama, that's amazing," she said, nodding sharply at me when my expression started to drop. I tried smiling again, but it wouldn't reach my eyes.

"Now you can have all the free pastries you want," Mama joked, gesturing to the feast she had brought home. "And Sera, you no longer have to work at the library, isn't that great? Maybe now you'll have more time to hang out with Caellan again."

I actually enjoyed working at the library, but that was beside the point. The mere mention of Caellan's name made me freeze. I had to tell Mama, I had to. Even though Kenna was glaring at me, as if she sensed my intentions, the guilt was eating me up inside. Sooner or later, the truth would have to come out.

I chose sooner.

"Mama," I began warily, "there's something we have to tell you."

Just as Mama's smile waned, concern flitting across her face, a sharp knock rapped against the door. Immediately, Kenna and I exchanged a panicked look. My fingers tapped faster than ever, matching the thumping rhythm of my heart.

"Open up," shouted a gruff voice. "Your daughter's accused of witchcraft."