Kiss and Spell
“In Manhattan?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“There are gardens. Community gardening is very big, and there are rooftop and container gardens. She could teach them a lot of things, I’m sure.”
“Maybe we could get the boss to invite her out for dinner.”
“Bite your tongue!” I snapped, getting queasy at the idea of my boss and my grandmother getting cozy. They already seemed to like each other more than was comfortable for me.
“They don’t have to date. They could just spend time talking shop.”
“But what if something did happen and she decided to stay permanently? Even if she moved out of your place, she’d still be around, meddling.”
“Okay, then, garden club it is. We’ll do an Internet search and ask around the office tomorrow.”
I gulped. “You mean Sam was right about watching ourselves? Does he have some kind of precognition?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell if you’re being followed in a place this crowded, but I have a funny feeling.”
He led us on a more roundabout than usual route out of the station. The area around the park was still pretty crowded with commuters leaving the subway station, and we stuck to the busier Park Avenue to head uptown instead of cutting over to Irving Place, like we usually did. Eventually, though, to get to Owen’s home we had to go down one of his neighborhood’s quiet side streets, where there wasn’t a lot of traffic—vehicular or otherwise. It was the kind of neighborhood where I didn’t mind walking alone at night. When I saw in the rearview mirror of a parked car that a small group of young men had followed us, I realized that today was apparently different.
They looked like gangsters. That is, they looked like gangsters in a high-school production of West Side Story. They didn’t much resemble the current breed of street toughs that you almost never saw in the vicinity of Gramercy Park. In spite of my nerves, I had an overwhelming urge to bend forward and snap my fingers menacingly as I walked down the sidewalk. Then we passed another car’s mirror and I caught a glint of metal in the reflection. These guys were armed, so I doubted they were going to limit themselves to intimidating us through virtuoso choreography.
“Do you remember that shield spell you learned today?” Owen whispered.
“Yeah. You think they’re going to attack us with magic?”
I felt it, too, I realized. “You’re sure it’s theirs?”
“It’s strongest in that direction.”
“You’d probably do a better job with that shield. It’s your spell, and you’re more powerful.”
“I can’t.”
“I thought me using magic would give you away, too.”
“They’re watching me. They’re not watching you, so they may not notice. If there’s a magical attack, your shield should be hidden in the overall surge of power.” He must have felt me tense because he gave my arm a reassuring squeeze and said, “You can do it. You fought off everything Rod and I threw at you today, and it always looked like immunity at work.”
“I think those are just for show. If they’ve got magic, they’re not going to bother getting close enough to stab us.”
I heard laughter behind us, the sound of a bully who’s spotted someone weaker he can prey upon, and then the others joined in, feeding on each other’s cruelty. We were still nearly a block from Owen’s place.
“What if they know who we are and think we’re immune to magic?” I hissed at Owen. “Then they won’t use magic on us.”
He turned to look at me in horror at that realization. The sound of footsteps behind us grew louder and faster. I braced myself for the attack.
Chapter Two
I wasn’t sure what we could do to save ourselves. Would it be better to stand our ground and try to fight or to run for our lives? We were so close to Owen’s place… where Granny was, I realized. My grandmother had come to New York from Texas because she’d sensed I’d need her help soon. Surely she’d notice if I was in mortal danger little more than a block away. We hadn’t yet covered mental communication in my magic lessons, since that was supposedly a more advanced skill that only a few wizards could do, but I figured that a mental cry for help wouldn’t hurt. I put every bit of thought and feeling I had into mentally calling out for my grandmother.