Read Online A Criminal Magic by Lee Kelly - Free Book Online Page B

sure why she wants to team up with the likes of me, but that’s not a question I’m going to ask and give her the chance to second-guess now. Gunn’s taking exactly seven of us for some reason, a little less than half. I’ve got a crushing amount to learn to get into the top half of this crowd. And allying with a sorcerer like Grace, who can conjure snakes and delve inside minds, can only help.
    â€œAre you suggesting we . . . team up?” I ask hopefully, as I face her.
    â€œMy family’s a superstitious lot. We specialize in signs, chance twists of fate, listen to whispers of nature,” Grace answers. “I get this strong sense about you, that you and I were meant to meet. So maybe I get your back, and you get mine.”
    Her words are the first turn of fortune I’ve gotten since I stepped into Gunn’s car. “I’d like that.”
    She throws me a sideways smile and rolls over. “Get some sleep, all right, Joan?”
    I find myself breathing a little easier. “I will. You too.”
    My body’s beyond spent from the tension, the fear, the long trek up here. So I close my eyes, ready to steal some sleep to carry me through whatever lies waiting on the other side of tomorrow. It’s only when I’m a few inches away from finally falling into darkness that I realize I never actually told Grace my name.

INTERROGATION
    ALEX
    I walk away from the Sigma Phi house fast and purposefully. My high from exposing the fraternity party has dulled, and now I’m left with the aftermath: an intense headache and a pull of regret. I try to keep Warren’s words— it’s like you’re trying to be your father, it’s like you can’t help it, you’re poison— out of my mind, but I keep going back to them, like an itch that refuses to quit, no matter how many times I scratch at it. Because Warren’s right. And no form or amount of apologizing is going to fix me, or the fragile friendship I just shattered on the ground.
    Sorry I’m an asshole.
    Sorry I’m not the man I’d like to be.
    Sorry I can’t just let the past go and move on.
    I cut in and out of the lively streets of Georgetown. It’s Friday night, and there’s a moon wild and hazy, drawn like a messy chalk circle on a slate slab of a sky. A recklessness teases from the shadowy alleys of O Street, college parties in full swing, and shining rooms that taunt with their quiet fronts and spellbound doors. A recklessness that whispers, Lose yourself, forget it all, if only for a night .
    I force myself to ignore the whispers, follow O Street until it dumps me onto Wisconsin Avenue. Tonight was a wake-up call.I need to move on, let the past lie in its grave for good. Because despite how much I wish I could, there’s no undoing it.
    As I cut up quiet Wisconsin toward its residential section, I swear I hear a scurry on the sidewalk behind me. But when I turn to investigate, there’s nothing. Just swaying trees lining the sidewalk and polished, well-kept cars parked on the road.
    But then I hear it again. As I place the sound, a panic ignites in my core. It’s not the wind, not the trees—it’s a pair of footsteps, maybe two or three—scurrying in the shadows and over the sidewalk.
    Before I can run, turn, do anything, rough hands grip my shoulders and push me forward, and I fly toward the ground. “Stop—who—what do you want?!”
    I’m pushed against the sidewalk, my face imprinting into the cement. I can’t turn my head, I can’t make anything out, it’s just a blur—dark clothes, masked faces, I—“Seriously, what’s going on—”
    â€œQuiet,” a voice above me whispers.
    A barrage of thoughts stampedes my mind—
    Are these Sam’s Sigma lackeys? A robbery? A mugging?
    â€œListen, you don’t want to do this. I’m an officer. An officer of the