Foretold (St. Bastian Institute 1)

After Ren left, yet another student passed by, looking at me warily like I might snap at any moment. Ugh, this was going to get old fast. I really hoped the rumour would quickly spread that I was no longer a suspect so people could quit looking at me like that. Speaking of which, I really should thank Peter for that alibi. Given what his father thought of my family and me in general, I was pretty sure he’d be mad at his son for helping out a Cristescu.

I glanced back at Nic. “Are you busy right now?”

“Not particularly,” he replied.

“Good, then you’re coming with me to Indigo.”

“Isn’t that the Girard family’s magic store?”

“Yes, Peter works there in the evenings. I want to go and ask him to help me with the spell. We’ll be killing two birds with one stone since we can grab all the ingredients for the spell at the store, too.”

“Okay, I’m in,” Nic replied.

I shot off a text to my sister. Going to Indigo for spell ingredients. Want me to drop you home first?

Her reply came fast. No, I have some more work to do before I leave. Will get a taxi home. x

“Looks like we’re good to go,” I told Nic, and we headed out to my car.

Nic fiddled with the radio as I pulled out of the school gates, flicking through several channels before stopping on the classic hits station. A song filled the speakers, and it reminded me of something from the soundtrack for an old movie.

“I like this one,” Nic said, and I shot him a smile.

“You’re into all that old-timey music, eh?”

“I suppose, though I haven’t heard this song before.”

“Me neither,” I said, the lyrics washing over me, something about saying goodbye for the summer. When it ended, the DJ came on, informing us that the song was, “Sealed with a Kiss” by Bobby Vinton.

“Make a note of that. I’ll buy you the record for your birthday. Doesn’t your dad have one of those old record players?”

“Right. Yeah, he does, but he rarely lets me use it,” Nic replied.

“I’ll buy the song for you online instead then.”

“That means I have to get you something for your birthday, too.”

“Just bring me a cupcake. I’m addicted to those things. Grace brings me a dozen every year, and I make myself sick eating all of them.”

Nic chuckled. “Not sure I’m comfortable feeding your addiction.”

“Hey, if you don’t bring them to me, I’m only going to go out and look for them on the streets.”

“Well, that’s true,” he allowed.

About half an hour later, we arrived at Indigo. I pulled into a free parking spot down the street, and Nic and I emerged from the car. Once we stood outside the shop, I peered in through the window. The place was quiet. Peter sat on a stool by the register, reading a book, with no customers in sight.

My palms grew sweaty with nerves as we approached the entrance. I’d written down the list of ingredients needed for the spell last night. It was folded into a neat square and sat in my coat pocket. I just hoped Peter had everything in stock.

The bell above the door chimed as we entered, and Peter’s dark eyes flicked up. They flared a moment when he saw me but then quickly returned to the pages of his book. My gut sank. It was like he’d assessed and dismissed me all in a matter of seconds. I glanced at Nic, and he shot me an encouraging look. I approached the register.

“Hey,” I said, looking around, relieved that his dad wasn’t there. Then again, whenever I came to Indigo, it was always Peter or his mother working, never his father.

“Darya,” Peter said, giving me a nod as his eyes met mine.

I cleared my throat. “I just, uh, wanted to thank you for talking to the Guard today. My dad said you gave me an alibi for Mr Williams’ murder.”

“I just told them the truth. You were with me when it happened.”

“Yes, well, I’m very grateful. Thank you.”

His eyes softened the tiniest bit. “It’s no problem.”

Silence fell between us, and I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I needed to ask him to help me with the spell, but it just felt too entitled. He’d already endured being questioned by the Guard on my behalf. I couldn’t go asking him for a favour right away. “Well,” I said, moving away from the counter. “I actually wanted to pick up a few things, so I’ll just …”

Peter nodded, and I went to study a selection of glass jars that lined one of the shelves at the back of the store. Nic followed me, whispering under his breath, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not doing it,” I whispered back. “He’ll probably say no anyway.”

“You won’t know that unless you ask.” A pause, then, “Do you want me to do it?”