Under a Spell
sat back against the attached-chair’s backrest and shot Will my best cop look. “Looks like murder might not be the only crime afoot. Why were you stealing my pens?”
    Will strode toward me. “I think the real question is why weren’t you protecting your pens?”
    “You know that makes no sense, right?”
    “Subject changed. What are you doing back here?”
    I grabbed a few strands of my frazzled red hair and twisted them around my finger. “I’m waiting for Lorraine to call me back. See what I found?”
    I pointed out the carving and Will craned his neck to look at it. “Looks like a circle.”
    “Look closer.”
    Will squinted, but obliged. “A circle with stuff in the middle.”
    “Really, you should share your brilliant powers of deduction with the world.”
    Will opened his mouth to respond, but my phone exploded into an annoying series of chirps. I glanced at the text.
    “Circle with stuff in the middle my butt! According to Lorraine, that’s a symbol of protection. It’s usually found on talismans. The pattern is called Luaithrindi, and these”—I drew my finger over each of the crossed lines—“are swords. The eight Ciphers of the Angels. This part where they interlock forms a—and I quote—powerful shield of protection.”
    Will crossed his arms in front of his chest. “So a girl goes missing a year ago. She turns up with carvings all over her body.” He gestured toward the desk. “Do we know if this symbol showed up?”
    I bit my lip and shook my head. “Not that I remember.” My stomach roiled. “Not that I want to remember.”
    “One year to the day another girl goes missing. Her clothes are dumped and lit on fire. Same thing with Cathy?”
    “No. I don’t think Cathy’s clothes were ever found.”
    Will pressed his lips together, using his index finger to tap his clean-shaven (a rarity) chin. “So, how do we know that this”—he mashed his finger against the symbol—“has anything to do with our case?”
    I could feel the adrenaline beginning to well. “Sampson suspected witchcraft. We find a symbol of protection carved into the desk, and earlier today . . .” I raised my eyebrows, assuming he’d finish my thought.
    “Earlier today what?”
    Of course not.
    “The book—Miranda’s book of protection spells. She’s afraid of something—or someone.”
    “So Miranda settles into her seat here in the back and carves herself some protection.”
    I stopped cold, clamping my mouth shut. Then, “This isn’t Miranda’s desk.” I swallowed. “Up until last week, it was Alyssa’s. Now its Fallon’s.”
    Will cocked a smug grin. “Well, then I guess we know the school’s not evil—just the students.”
    I blanched, thinking how any girl—especially one not even old enough to vote—could be warped enough to kidnap, murder, and maim, whether or not she thought she was a powerful witch or just wanted to be.
    I rested my head in my hands and massaged my scalp. “At least, for the first time in years, I’m not the one they’re aiming to kill.”
    “And now it’s done.” He threw up his hands.
    I looked up at him; he stood with arms widespread, a look of clear disappointment marring his hazel eyes.
    “What’s done?”
    “You. You are. You’ve essentially double-dog-dared every Vessel baddie in the known world to come take a swing at you.” He shook his head, clucking his tongue. “I really didn’t want to get these shoes scuffed.”
    “Fine. Change into your defensive shoes while I go to the bathroom. Then we’re going to Cathy’s house.”
    Will looked surprised. “On a bombardment mission?”
    I rolled my eyes. “Her mother knows we’re coming. I called her between classes and got her address.” I produced the scrap piece of paper I had written the Ledwiths’ address on. “There was no answer at Alyssa’s, so we’ll have to search her place another time.”
    Will left on a sigh.
    My phone chirped just as I exited the classroom.
    “Hey, Neens,

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