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  Nicole moaned. What was she going to say to her parents? Tiffany would not be happy that things wouldn’t go as planned.

  Then she straightened her shoulders, refusing to be a victim. “I don’t care. I don’t want him there.”

  She didn’t wait to see if her teacher had let the nurse know she was on her way before plopping herself on the bed. The nurse bustled in from her office. “They told me all about it, dear,” she said to Nicole. “I’m so sorry that happened publicly.”

  Nicole folded her arms across her still-aching stomach and glared at the floor. “Tell me about it. It was so embarrassing.”

  The nurse clucked sympathetically. “Well, how are you feeling now?”

  Nicole sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know—humiliated. And I guess I’m a little nauseated still.”

  The nurse took Nicole’s temperature, checked her ears, eyes, nose, and throat, then put away her instruments. “I know you’re not going to like hearing this,” she said, “but I think you should go home. Get some rest.”

  “Out of the question. I’m playing in the assembly next period.”

  “Sweetie, you’ve just Restarted. You don’t know what’s going to happen—if your magic will come immediately or if it will take hours or days or even weeks. The point is, you may be dangerous to yourself and others around you.”

  Nicole looked at the nurse incredulously. “I’m not out of control. I’m still the same person. It’s not like I’m going to blow up the whole place and kill everyone.” She realized something just then and said, “I can’t even feel my powers yet. How am I a danger when I can’t use magic?” Shouldn’t she be able to sense something by now? Or did it depend on the person, like everything else? She’d ask Lizzie as soon as she could.

  “Well, I suppose you’re right,” the nurse said. “You should still consider going home, though. You need the rest.”

  “I can rest here until the assembly and then go home as soon as it’s over. But there’s no way I’m going to skip and make Principal Worthington have to reschedule.”

  The nurse seemed to think that was a good idea—or she suspected she wouldn’t win this argument—because she signed some papers and handed them to Lizzie. “Take this to Nicole’s teacher. Then you’d better get to class.” Lizzie sent an apologetic glance to Nicole, then left the room.

  At the nurse’s insistence, Nicole lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. She wished she could have a moment to feel excitement over the fact that she finally Restarted, but the embarrassment of the event still plagued her. Why did it have to happen that way? Why couldn’t it have been graceful, like she’d hoped?

  She was glad the nurse hadn’t insisted on her going home. There was no way she would allow Conor or anyone else to see that her Restart—and how they’d acted around her—had affected her negatively.

  The assembly went well, and even though Nicole was still nervous, she played decently enough. Normally, she’d consider “decent” a bad thing, but considering the circumstances, she was grateful she had done even that well.

  As soon as the assembly was over, she scurried off the stage and returned to the nurse’s room. She didn’t want any reason to have to stop and talk in the auditorium or halls to discuss what had happened, especially when she hadn’t finished processing it. No one even looked at her, thank goodness, and she didn’t see Conor. Maybe he’d skipped the assembly.

  Lizzie offered to take her home, but Nicole didn’t want to make her miss the rest of school. Instead, and after plenty of internal fights over the pros and cons of doing it, she called her mother.

  When Tiffany checked Nicole out of school, she wasn’t elated or irritated about her daughter’s Restart—she was indifferent. Nicole could handle indifferent.

  She relaxed in her seat. They didn’t talk the entire way home, but Nicole didn’t expect them to. They rarely talked. And if Tiffany was concerned about Nicole’s wellbeing, she didn’t let on. Nicole knew that at least Tiffany wouldn’t cancel the evening’s plans based only on her daughter feeling ill. The show must go on. It was comforting, actually, after how her peers and boyfriend had acted.

  Nicole grimaced to herself, finding irony in the fact that she’d Restarted on the day her family would celebrate her Restart. It was a good thing Tiffany knew it had nothing to do with her—otherwise, she’d be gloating about triggering it.

  After getting home and taking a nap, Nicole decided to soak in her tub, half waiting to hear from Conor—a text or phone call, anything—but the only word she got of any sort was a text from Lizzie, asking how she was doing. Nicole let her best friend know she was fine, then she dropped her phone on her bed and got in the tub. She wasn’t sure how to feel. She and Conor had only been dating for a week or two and she hadn’t really developed strong feelings for him—he’d been the one doing the pursuing, after all. But she was still disappointed that he’d freaked out so much.

  She’d only been in the tub for ten minutes when the door on her deck opened with a creak. She smiled. There was only one person who came to visit by climbing the trellis outside her window.

  “Nicole, are you in here?” Lizzie called out.

  “Yeah, soaking in the tub.”

  “Oh, good. Hurry up—I’ll help you get ready.”

  Nicole finished her bath, then dressed and joined Lizzie in her bedroom. Lizzie was staring at the ball gown Tiffany had hung on Nicole’s closet door, her eyebrow raised.

  “That organza definitely changed the whole dress.”

  Nicole barely glanced at the gown. “It always does. Poor Mr. Finucci—one of these days, Tiffany will let him do things his way.”

  “Or not.” Lizzie sent Nicole a smile, then eyed her hair. “Let’s get started.”

  Chapter Five

  With Lizzie’s help, Nicole was ready in forty-five minutes. Lizzie had attacked her with a flourish, and her hair was now in a fancy updo that was still slightly messy—Lizzie loved a little chaos, and it would drive Tiffany nuts. Nicole’s makeup was smoky and dramatic. She definitely looked ready for a ball.

  Lizzie flopped onto her back on Nicole’s bed. “You know,” she said, “someday we’ll be sharing an apartment, and I won’t have to sneak over to hang out.”

  Nicole nodded. “I’m pretty excited. Only one hundred and twenty-three days to go.”

  “You’re counting?” Lizzie asked.

  “Of course. Freedom is worth counting down.”

  Nicole usually worked the weekends at all of her jobs, but her mother had insisted she get work off for the ball. Considering Nicole’s Restart, she was grateful she’d done as she’d been asked.

  She glanced at Lizzie. “So, I can’t sense anything yet. Is that normal?”

  Lizzie shrugged. “From what I know, yes. It was a couple of weeks before I was able to recognize magical pulses.”

  “What do they feel like?” Nicole asked.

  “Well, sort of like a gentle breeze that’s warm and a little tingly at the same time. Sometimes a pressure that hits me all over. It might be different for others—I haven’t ever asked.”

  Nicole nodded slowly, considering what Lizzie said. She hadn’t felt anything like that yet. Of course, it had only been a few hours.

  She glanced at the clock—the ball would start in forty minutes. “You’d better head out now. Let’s avoid confrontations with my mom tonight.”

  Lizzie agreed and escaped the way she’d come in. Nicole watched her best friend climb down the trellis that attached to the side of the house where her window was. Wild roses grew there, and if Nicole’s mother ever knew that was how Lizzie gained access to the house—though how she didn’t already know, Nicole couldn’t figure out—she’d probably have a conniption.

  A knock came at Nicole’s door and she turned, expecting her mother. But it was only the housekeeper. “Mrs. Williams says it’s time to leave. Are you ready?”

  “I am, but I’m going to take my own car, if that’s all right with my parents.”


  “It might be,” Mrs. Smith said, a doubtful expression on her face. Then she beamed at Nicole. “You look beautiful.”

  Nicole thanked her, and the two walked down the hall and the grand staircase that graced the foyer of the home. Tiffany and Dad were waiting at the base of the stairs. They both glanced up, then looked away. Tiffany was tastefully dressed, her deep purple gown hiding her few faults. Dad was handsome in his usual tux—a black one with a red vest. He looked at his watch impatiently.

  Nicole was used to his impatience when it came to events like this. He was the person throwing them, though, and it wasn’t like anybody would start without the Williams. But she understood why it would bother him to be late.

  “We have plenty of time to get there, Dad,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “I’m going to drive my car—I’ll see you there.”

  Tiffany’s mouth popped open, but Dad only glanced at Nicole. “Fine. No side trips along the way.”

  Neither of them said anything about her boyfriend not showing up, and she was totally okay with that.

  The old, upgraded schoolhouse they usually used for events like this was decorated beautifully—twinkle lights everywhere, and see-through fabrics decorating the marble pillars and floors. One entire wall was made up of windows, letting in the breathtaking sunset.

  Nicole sat at the head table, staring out those windows and swirling a straw in her fruit punch. She didn’t miss the irony that she was at a ball being held in her honor, and yet everyone was ignoring her. She didn’t care about being ignored, just that she had to be there at all. It was ridiculous.

  She’d finished her fourth cup of punch and third serving of brownies when she heard a familiar voice call her name.

  “Nicole?”

  She turned, her mouth open as she stared at Conor who was weaving through dancing couples as he walked across the floor toward her.

  “What are you doing here?” She resisted the urge to put a hand to her stomach, not wanting to show that his presence had an effect on her, causing butterflies to flutter there.

  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his tux pants and stared at the floor. “I came to apologize.”

  Nicole folded her arms, glaring at him. “Yeah. What you did was horrible. Rude. A complete jerk thing to do.”

  “I know. I agree.” He took another step in her direction, the look on his face one of extreme remorse. “I feel horrible. I shouldn’t have treated you that way, especially not after telling you how excited I was to be dating an Arete.” He ran a hand through his sandy blond hair, his gaze shifting to the side as he obviously tried to figure out what to say next. “It’s just . . . just that it freaked me out. I didn’t expect you to actually puke and—”

  “Yeah, I get it. I don’t want to talk about it. It was embarrassing enough.”

  Conor flushed. “And I only made that worse. I’m sorry I humiliated you in front of the other students.”

  Nicole stared at him for a moment longer, wishing she could still be angry with him, but sensing the sincerity behind his apology. Finally, she gestured to the chair next to her, inviting him to join her.

  Conor did so in a rush with an expression of gratitude on his face. “Thank you so much.” He looked at her sidelong. “Is it too late to be your date for the evening?”

  Nicole shrugged. “I suppose not.”

  She fiddled with the small clutch she’d brought, not sure what to say. One glance at Conor told her he was just as uncomfortable as she was, but the events of the morning seemed almost insurmountable.

  Conor finally blurted, “Are we still dating?” He obviously felt stupid for asking, so he hurried to continue. “I mean, I don’t want to push you into anything. But it felt like we were going somewhere—I don’t know, somewhere that had promise.”

  Nicole hesitated, opening and closing her mouth several times before saying, “I don’t know.”

  Conor stared at his hands.

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. We’re still dating. But if you do something like that again . . .” She wasn’t sure how to end that. She’d slap him? Break up with him? Run him over with her car?

  Conor exhaled with a huge rush of wind. “Oh, thank goodness. What I did was stupid because I really love—like you.” His face turned bright red and he nearly knocked over a glass of water in his rush to put his hand on her arm. “I mean, I like you—not love you. I mean, I could love you, if it ever came to that—oh, that came out bad. It’s not like I’d be forced to love you. Because that’s just not right. I’d love you for you and not because someone told me to do it. Oh, man, I’m making a mess of this.” He ran a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck on the way down.

  Nicole felt her chest begin to warm, and she couldn’t help but smile. “How about we go dance?”

  Conor grinned at her. “That would be great.”

  He stood, extending a hand to her, which she took. He led her away from the table and to the middle of the dance floor, where they joined the other couples already dancing.

  Nicole loved the feel of his arms around her, loved the feel of his bicep under her left hand. He was a surprisingly good dancer, and they laughed as he taught her how to waltz and then do the cha-cha to music that wasn’t meant to be a cha-cha. She was so grateful he’d chosen to come. The evening had been dragging and lonely, but having him there brightened it considerably.

  Tiffany beamed her approval from across the room, and for a brief moment, Nicole almost wished Conor weren’t there. What did it say that Tiffany approved of him? Nicole immediately chided herself. Just because Tiffany liked the guy, that didn’t make him evil. It probably meant that Tiffany thought Nicole was dancing with somebody who wasn’t magical, which was exactly the case.

  After the sixth or seventh song, Conor pulled Nicole close and kissed her on the cheek. “Be right back. I need to go to the men’s room.”

  Nicole nodded. “I’ll be at my table.”

  Conor gave her a half smile, and she walked to her chair. She’d only been sitting for maybe five seconds when a woman she’d never seen before approached her.

  “Are you Nicole Williams?” the woman asked, her gaze darting around the room.

  “Yes, I am,” Nicole said before realizing that maybe she shouldn’t have admitted to it.

  The woman sat next to her and leaned forward. “I don’t have much time—they know I’m here. I’m a Cerberus, Nicole. A guardian of knowledge. I need to talk to you, the guardian of magical items.”

  Nicole raised an eyebrow. “Guardian of magical items? You’ve got the wrong person.”

  The woman inched her chair closer. “We don’t have time to discuss it.” She lowered her voice, her intense dark eyes making it hard to look away. “I have information about Lizzie.” She hesitated a moment before saying, “She’s in danger. And you must protect her before they realize she’s who they’re looking for.”

  The woman opened her purse and pulled out a flat shiny object which she fisted in her hand. She glanced around the room, then grabbed Nicole’s hand and shook it as if they were exchanging greetings. Nicole felt the woman pass the object to her when she let go. “Keep it safe. Someone will approach you later—a friend. Don’t tell anyone, not the police, no one, what I’ve said. Promise me you won’t.”

  “Why is Lizzie in danger?”

  “Promise! You must keep her safe, Nicole.”

  “Of course I promise.” How could Nicole say anything if it might put her best friend in danger? “But how do I know I can trust—”

  The woman stood, knocking her chair over as she glanced across the room, then back at Nicole. “I have to go now.”

  “Wait!” Nicole started, but the woman rushed away.

  Chapter Six

  Nicole watched the woman’s receding back, unsure what she should do. What had the woman meant? She obviously knew who Nicole was, and Lizzie too. How was Lizzie in danger? Nicole looked at the little metal thing the woman h
ad given her. It was rectangular, about half an inch across.

  “Ready to dance?” Conor asked, making Nicole jump.

  “Yeah, sure. I—I am.” Nicole grabbed her clutch and shoved the piece of metal into the coin pouch, pretending to be searching for her lip gloss. She wasn’t sure if Conor should see it, but decided to hold off on saying anything about it until she knew more. She hurriedly applied the gloss, then dropped her clutch on her chair.

  They’d only just started dancing when a commotion started up near the front door. Nicole watched over Conor’s shoulder as the woman who’d approached her got detained by one of the big security guards Dad had hired. Tiffany approached and began questioning the lady.

  Nicole sighed, knowing what was about to happen. Tiffany did not like people attending her parties who weren’t invited.

  Sure enough, voices raised, tempers flared, and several people crowded near the front door to watch.

  Conor glanced back, wanting to see what everyone was doing.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Tiffany motioned at the doors and the security guard grabbed the woman and started towing her away. Just then, a pressure pushed against Nicole’s chest. She looked down—nothing was there. Another wave of pressure rippled through the entire room, making her nose tingle. Was that magic? Had she just sensed someone’s powers?

  The floor quaked, knocking everyone down. The walls and ceiling vibrated, and the windows that covered one wall rumbled, then shattered. Glass exploded into the room. It swirled into a massive vortex, spinning faster and faster.

  Then the lights went out, bathing the room in semi-darkness. Several people screamed. The main doors to the ballroom were flung open, and the backup generators kicked on.

  Nicole gasped, her hands fluttering to her mouth. The woman lay on the interior steps that led up to the front door, one leg awkwardly pinned beneath her.

  Hands still at her mouth, Nicole stepped across the ballroom floor, needing to see if the woman was okay. The closer she got, though, the more she realized that something was horribly wrong.