Me: Change of plans. Family thing is ending early. Meet you at ten? Can I still be your date?
Rishi: Maybe.
Me: Rishi…I’m sorry.
Rishi: Just kidding. I can’t stay mad at you for long. See you.
I find myself smiling for the first time today. Something like hope fills my chest.
When I turn around to find the bathroom, Nova’s standing there holding two cups of fizzy, red punch.
“You’re here.” Dear Alex, please stop being so awkward.
“Brooklyn’s best delivery boy, at your service.” He smirks. His skin is so smooth. I wonder how often he moisturizes.
I take the drink he offers and smell it. Lady’s special blend of fizzy sangria. Her secret is rose petals. She says nothing coats the senses quite like roses do. I should have worn roses in my hair.
Over in the living room, the girls from Lula’s circle are dancing to the drums and Spanish guitar of Old Samuel and his band. Their hands twist in the air, like they’re calling a forth a spirit. But this is only dancing. Except for Mayi, the show-off.
She spins in place, her skirt swishing around her dainty feet. Soft candlelight adds a glow to her brown skin. I want to hate it, but instead, I love the way it flows, the way her glamour magic makes us see things that aren’t there, like the rain of flower petals that fall to the floor. My guests ooh and aah at her. They reach for the petals and their hands go through them. Just a trick of the light.
“You know, an encantrix has the ability to channel any kind of power,” Nova says so close to my ear that it tickles. He smells like rain hugging the new green of spring. “You can do that too.”
“I can’t.” Despite the roses in the drink, something inside of me is restless. The raven feather wedged in my bra pokes me. I remember the hideous face of the maloscuro. I shut my eyes, pushing down the surge of magic that burns the palms of my hands.
I run to the kitchen and close the door behind me. There’s a draft coming from the boarded-up windows. I pace around the kitchen table. My dress feels too tight. The skin over my rib cage itches. When the door opens and Nova walks in, I jump. A spark of magic slips from my hold and the light bulb above us pops.
“Are you still planning on doing the thing we talked about?” he asks, looking over his shoulder.
“Are you going to talk me out of it?” While my eyes adjust to the dark, I fumble toward the cabinets for a spare light bulb.
“That’s not my place. I already told you that you might not like the recoil.”
“Then why are you here?”
I walk past him, trying to ignore the way my senses flare when I’m around him. I stand on the chair under the broken light. I try to unscrew the glass cover, but the knob is too tight.
“Free food, good music, cute girls. Gatherings are few and far between nowadays. Everyone acts like Deathdays are only big parties. But they’re more than that. They’re about getting the blessing and connecting with the Old Ones.”
“You’re wrong. Deathdays are about sacrifice and blood and binding yourself to a power that destroys.”
He reaches for my hand. I pull away. “It’s supposed to get better.”
“How old are you?” I ask. The blown-out light bulb is stuck in there.
“Seventeen. Why?”
“Because I don’t need someone my own age telling me that life gets better.”
He’s quiet for a little while. Out in the living room, the music gets louder, all drums and horns and wailing voices.
“I think I’ve lived enough for about two lifetimes.” He sounds so worn when he says that. But he recovers his charm quickly. “I hope in the next one I come back as a billionaire playboy.”
“The way the Deos work, you might come back as the billionaire playboy’s toothbrush.” I grunt, trying to twist the bulb, but it won’t budge.
“Don’t be stubborn,” he tells me. “Let me help.”
“I’ve got it.”
He drags a second chair beside me and hops on it.
“What are you doing?”
My eyes have adjusted enough that the light from the living room lets me see the outline of his face. His cheekbones are perfect. His eyes are on the green side of the spectrum now. I can see myself in them.
And then the light comes on.
Nova pinches the air with his black-inked fingers. A soft, white light flows from his fingertips and fills the room. I can feel its warmth along my skin, brushing against my own magic.
“Oh,” I say.
“Oh,” he says playfully.
I want to ask him how he did that. How do you control something that is living inside of you, like a parasite, a virus? Like this growing thing that has attached itself to me without asking my permission.
“Come back to the party, Alex.”
“Why can’t everyone just leave me in peace?”
It’s a hypothetical question, but in truth, I want an answer. A real, true answer.
“You’re a brat, you know that?”
“Excuse me?”
His blue-green eyes are brilliant in the shadows. He doesn’t even blink. “I always hated kids like you growing up.”
“Kids like me?”
“You have everything. A mom that busts her ass for you. All the gifts of the Deos at your disposal. Look at all the people here for you.”
“They’re here for my mother.”
“They’re here for you. You have a legacy. They’re family. You think your life is so tough—you don’t know what tough is. If you knew what I’ve been through, you’d never sleep again.”
I hop off the chair. My magic sparks between my fingers. “You’re right. I don’t know you. So do us both a favor and leave. You don’t want to stick around for what comes next, trust me.”
I hear him jump. Hear his footsteps walk around me and toward the door leading to the backyard. He shoves his hands in his pockets, turning around to look at me. “I guess you’re not a fan of tough love.”
“Not a fan of any love if it’s coming from you.”
Part of me wants to take it back. Out of everyone here, he’s the only one who noticed me leave. I want to tell him to come back, but he’s already gone. When Nova shuts the door, I look up at the light he left. It dims slowly, like a concentrated sunset meant just for me.
“There you are!” my mom says, running into the kitchen. She holds my face with her hands. She kisses my forehead. I take a deep breath, but I can’t stop myself from shaking. “It’s time.”