Wizards At War

“Hey,” Della said. She glanced up just long enough to look up past the school, down toward the parking lot, which was almost empty at this time of day. The juniors and seniors who had cars had pretty much all pulled out half an hour before. Then she dropped her gaze back to her phone again, scrolling its screen with one thumb.

“You okay?” Nita said.

Della turned her head, looked at Nita slowly. Though the look was unsmiling, over time Nita had come to know that it wasn’t actually hostile. This was just the way Della defended herself from people, refusing to reveal anything they could use against her; usually the flatness of the look was enough to scare them off.

“You look depressed,” Nita said, and leaned against the fence as well.

Della sighed and looked away. “The news all sucks,” she said. “Nothing but bomb scares and fighting and airports being evacuated because of terrorists, and security alerts everywhere. The world’s going to shit all around us, and everything else on TV besides the news is just dumb, and my brother’s really getting on my nerves.”

Her voice was surprisingly resigned and bored. “You’ve got a sister,” Della said. “What do you do when you feel like killing her?”

“Try to get her to go to some other planet,” Nita said.

Della smiled a rather bitter smile. “Have much luck with that?”

“Not as much as I’d like,” Nita said. “But sometimes she gets the hint.”

They leaned there in a companionable silence for a few moments. A teacher came out one of the side doors of the school carrying a briefcase and an armful of books, and headed for his car. “I hate just lurking around here,” Della said, watching the teacher get into the car and start it up, “but lurking around home is worse. There’s nowhere to hide. Even when I’m in my room, I know my mom and dad are just waiting for me to come out so they can look at me that way they do, like there’s something I’m supposed to do to make everything turn out all right.” And Della manufactured a sort of creepily threatening cross between a scowl and a smile. The expression looked to Nita so much like something that would normally appear on a cartoon character that she had to laugh.

Della snickered, too, then. “See, not even you take me seriously,” she said, and pushed the long curly blond hair out of her eyes. “Come on, give me a hint: what am I supposed to be doing to make it all right? What is it They want?”

Nita’s eyes widened. She looked more closely at Della, but Del’s face was unrevealing. “I’m not sure,” Nita said.

“But you’re supposed to know,” Della said, gazing across at the school doors as if she was intent on not meeting Nita’s eyes. “You’re the one who’s been left in charge. You’re supposed to have all the answers. Help me out here!”

Nita looked thoughtfully at Della, looked hard. The wind blew the hair across Della’s face again. Annoyed, she lifted a hand to push it aside.

Not a hand. A claw—

Nita’s eyes widened. Then she started violently as something she couldn’t see struck her in the side of the head. She flinched and flung her right hand up, and the lightning-bolt charm with a particularly aggressive “blaster” spell bound into it glinted on her charm bracelet in the late-afternoon sunlight. Nita opened her mouth to say the twenty-third word of the spell and turn the force-blast loose against the thing that had hit her; and as she did, Della pressed herself back against the fence, the darkness that surrounded the claw shimmering up around her, abolishing the blond hair, the face—

Something came down over Nita’s mouth, so that she couldn’t speak. Something else stuck itself in her ear. Nita’s eyes narrowed; she started to simply think the twenty-third word of the force-blast spell instead of saying it. It was a long one. Light twined around it, paired serpents of fire—

Don’t do it!

And abruptly the thing in her ear was a tongue, one she knew entirely too well.

Ewwwww, Nita thought, opening her eyes, her heart still beating hard. Kit stood at the head of the couch, looking down at her anxiously; he’d just removed his hand from her mouth. Ponch, meanwhile, had finished washing her ear and was now enthusiastically working on her face.

“Thanks for not blasting me,” Kit said.

“Good thing you moved fast, ‘cause I didn’t know it was you,” Nita said, pushing Ponch away. “Did I oversleep? It’s morning already?”

“It’s not just morning. It’s Monday morning.”

“What?” Nita’s eyes went wide. She sat straight up, or tried to; as usual, the crocheted throw had wrapped itself around her like a cocoon. “It can’t be! We were only gone—oh, four or five hours, there was the stuff on the Moon—and then we did the transit, and we slept here, yeah, but it should still only be—”

“Normally it should still only be,” Kit said. He looked at Ponch.

Ponch looked guilty. I brought us straight here…