The Problem With Black Magic Page 12

  ***

  Once again, Cassie found herself at her grandparent’s home upstate, only this time, she was wearing the t-shirt and sweats that she’d gone to sleep in. After a few minutes of disorientation, she remembered that she had gone to sleep a short while ago: that meant she must be dreaming, or something akin to it.

  “Finally getting used to it, I see,” said Sam, standing above her.

  Cassie looked up at him. “Why are we here again? I thought the last time it was because my brain was going crazy.”

  Sam sat on the far edge of her chair. “I needed to talk to you, but there’s no way I could physically go to you, especially not now. So we’re meeting in a kind of dream state— one of the benefits of our familiar bond.”

  “Yeah, it’s really beneficial for me,” Cassie mumbled, still feeling uncomfortable in the real-yet-not atmosphere of the dream. She knew she had to tell him something, but couldn’t remember what it was. She was also distracted by him sitting so close to her; she knew it was all a mental projection and their bodies weren’t involved, but it still seemed awfully familiar of him to just plunk down on the edge of her chair like that.

  Sam looked out at the horizon behind her grandparent’s house; since the last time they were here, the fall foliage had started to become noticeable, making some of the trees look like a mix of spun gold and cotton candy. “If I thought they would trigger it, I never would have made the spell work like that; I purposely made it so gruesome so they would stay away from it,” he said, anger obvious in his voice.

  Cassie tilted her head to the side. “Oh right, I remember now: you’re a murderer.”

  Sam jerked back as though he’d been slapped. “I’m telling you, they never should have triggered it. Lethal magic is kind of like nuclear weapons; you point it at everyone in the hopes that the threat of using it will be enough,” he explained. “I never planned for that spell to activate.”

  Cassie leaned back in her chair and considered that. She supposed it was better that he hadn’t meant to kill anyone, but something about his logic didn’t add up to her. “Why make a spell if you didn’t want to use it?” she asked. “I mean, couldn’t you make it so that trying to get into the house would just make them go unconscious or something? Then you would have known who it was afterwards, because they’d still be in one piece.”

  A look flickered over Sam’s face briefly that she couldn’t identify, and he looked away. “I could have, but that’s very…delicate. Doing it this way was…more efficient.”

  Cassie sat up in her chair, pulling her legs up and away from him. “You mean, you suck at magic, so you made the spell killer because it was easier for you.”

  “Cassie!” he said, snapping his head around to look at her in outrage.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know if I get this because you’re in my head now so I understand you better, or if it’s just that obvious. But you have like, zero control over magic, right? That’s why you didn’t use magic on Serenus even when you were really pissed, because you would have killed him.”

  Sam narrowed his eyes and stood up, pacing. She noticed he was wearing his typical work outfit: black pants, and an immaculate white button down shirt with the collar of a black undershirt peeking out at his throat.

  “You also have zero imagination, because you can probably look like whatever you want in a dream and you’re still dressed like we’re at work,” said Cassie, yawning.

  He turned to face her, hands balled into fists at his side. “What do you want from me,” he said quietly. “I came to tell you what happened now that you have dead people in front of your house, and all you do is insult me.”

  Cassie stood and stretched, finally feeling at home in the murky feeling of the dream world. “What do I want from you? Hmm, let’s see. First, I’d like you to stop killing people because you’re too lazy to do proper magic. Second, I’d like it if you killed people away from where my little brother might see them,” and a properly guilty look came over his face at that. “Three,” she said walking closer to him, gratified when he took a small step back, “Don’t come into my head for any reason, ever again. I’d rather have nightmares like a normal person.”

  He sneered, looking as close to ugly as she’d ever seen him. “Are you sure? I passed some amazing nightmares on my way over here. Want to see them? I may “suck” at magic, but I think I can manage that.”

  Cassie went to slap him, and started when he seemed to disappear under her fingers. Well, it wasn’t real; she supposed he could be wherever he wanted. She probably could too once she got used to navigating this plane, not like it would help much. “I hate you!” she yelled. “I hate your stupid attitude and your stupid powers and the fact that you wear the same stupid outfit every day! I hate everything about you!”

  “Cassie, I—" she heard him start behind her, sounding remorseful. She turned and connected with the palm of her hand, noting with no small amount of satisfaction that it was possible to slap him in her dreams.

  He stumbled back, looking stunned. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have threatened you. I’m not really like that.”

  “Don’t invade my head and then tell me what you’re like!” she shouted, balling her fists. “What part of ‘get out’ do you not understand?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, seemingly melting away into the mist. The next thing she knew, her father was shaking her awake.

  “Cassie! Shhhh, shhhh it’s okay sweetheart— it’s not real. You’re safe; it’s not real.”

  Cassie hugged her father and cried. Now her nightmares could be real, and she wasn’t safe at all.