Scott Tracey - Moonset

“How about you just blow up a building?” Maddy remarked snidely. “That seems to work wonders.”

Suddenly things became very serious again. The temperature in the room had gone up at least ten degrees in as many seconds. Even my heart lurched to keep the immediate silence that blanketed the room. No one breathed for a moment. The pit in my stomach burned hot, becoming wildfire racing up my spine. “How’s that any different from advocating assassinations?” I demanded. “You suggested it earlier.”

“If killing a dozen people saves the lives of thousands, I think that’s an acceptable risk,” she snapped back.

My mouth moved faster than the words could form in my brain. It was funny—I didn’t feel angry, but my words were heated all the same. “And who decides who lives and who dies?

One of the Covens? What happens when they start abusing that power?”

Her eyes narrowed. “There’s no reason to even think that would happen. I’m talking about carefully removing the threats from the rest of us before someone gets hurt.”

“No reason?” I laughed. “Power corrupts. Or have you never cracked a history book? If you give a man too much power, he will abuse it. Men with power become despots, people like you who think they’re better than everyone else.”

“Who are you better than, Justin? You’re broken-down white trash with warlock blood in your veins. You think you’ll ever have a place in this world? They should just lock you up and save us the trouble.”

“And who are you? Some small-town fish who thinks the world has some great destiny in store for her?” I snorted. “You’re just another vapid Mean Girl clone who’ll peak in high school.

It probably kills you that you’ll never find a Coven. People like you are the reason people like me stop taking it anymore.”

All focus on a debate, or even on anyone else in the room, was long past. We were nearly screaming at each other. Even if someone had tried to interject, I don’t know if I would have heard them. My pulse was pounding so loudly in my ears I could barely hear the sound of my own voice. The room was washed out in pulses of red and black, the only thing I could see was the girl across from me.

“So what are you going to do? Start another war? Recruit for your terrorist cell? How about you read your history. The last time that happened? Wicked old Illana Bryer hacked off your

Mommy’s head.”

YOU CANNOT HIT A GIRL . My vision wasn’t flashes of red and black anymore. It was just red. Solid, painful red.

The things that happened next were hazy. I remember shoving the podium out from in front of me. Screaming something about terrorists. Then I remembered Kevin was suddenly in between the two of us, and I was snarling incoherent things.

Things were happening fast, but the blood pumping through my veins was so loud I couldn’t concentrate. There were loud noises, I was being moved, but I couldn’t get control of my tongue. I was still shouting, screaming, and it didn’t even matter that it didn’t make sense.

And then I wasn’t in the classroom anymore.

I was in the hallway, sucking in huge lungfuls of air, with Kevin standing in front of me with his arms held out, as if at any moment I might try to shove my way back into the classroom.

It was like the air in the hallway was somehow cleaner than the classroom. My head started to clear immediately, and I came back to myself. I didn’t know what had happened … but I didn’t like it. No one had put that rage deep inside me—I’d already had all that. Just waiting for an outlet.

Somehow Maddy was able to tap into it. Even at my worst with Jenna and the others, I’d never lost control like that.

I sank down onto the steps, putting my head in my hands. I didn’t trust myself to speak.

“No one knew how to react. Do you grieve?

Or do you mobilize? We were attacked, our governing body martyred. It was an act of terrorism, plain and simple. But no one claimed responsibility. Not at first … ”

Robert Cooper (C: Eventide)

Interview for Moonset: A Dark Legacy

Twenty minutes later, I was waiting in the hallway directly between the principal’s office on my left and a conference room on my right.

“Someone will deal with you eventually,” the secretary had said. Mrs. Crawford had come to the door, handed my bag to Kevin, and directed me to the office. Kevin had walked to the office with me—escorting me or making sure I actually went.

I’d never lost my temper like that before. So why now? Shouting, throwing things. Everything from the last few minutes of class was hazy, like it had been something that happened to someone else. None of that was me. I didn’t lose control like that.

“ … Daggett doesn’t know?” My ears caught my name, and I looked up. It was coming from my left, from the principal’s office. The door was still open a crack, and whispers of private conversation filtered through.

“I know what I told you,” the first voice said. Illana Bryer. Her voice was encoded in my brain.

“Then how do you explain it? Threatening other students, losing his temper? Illana, you assured me that bringing them here would solve our problems. Not create new ones.”

“Justin is not your concern,” Illana said in an icy tone. “I think you should be more concerned with what Marisol was thinking. Using spells like that on a student? Not to mention on him ?”

“I … ” the other woman trailed off helplessly. I could almost hear her stiffening. “I will handle

Marisol. She’ll be reported. But the boy ?” Marisol? Were they talking about Mrs. Crawford?

She’d used a spell on me? She’d provoked me?

Why?

“The children are doing exactly what we need them to be doing,” Illana replied. “Being visible.

Focusing the attention upon themselves. This is crucial to the stratagem.”

“And you’re sure everything else will stop?”

“We’re working on it,” she confirmed.

The next thing I knew one of the secretaries was standing in front of me. And she was repeating something.

“I said, go into the conference room, and they’ll be with you shortly,” she said, raising her voice.

The conference room was not like the rest of the school. It was huge. A large rectangular table set in the center was surrounded by those ritzy-looking office chairs with wheeled legs and plush cushions. Thirty people could easily have sat around the perimeter, with another fifty filling in the sides and corners of the room.

I was still standing there, trying to figure where to sit when I heard the clack of heels behind me.

“Have a seat, Mr. Daggett.”

Illana Bryer stalked around the table, taking a seat in the center, directly across from where I was standing now.

“Or stand if you wish,” she add. “Fantastic impression you’ve made. How proud are you?

Tired of letting your sister take the spotlight?”

Was she trying to be funny? “I know she used magic on me. I heard you.”

“You are no idiot,” Illana confirmed. “But how you could walk into a situation like that and let your guard down is beyond me. The woman drew out every scrap of anger lingering in that sullen little brain of yours, and you didn’t even try to stop her.”

“She was supposed to be my teacher.” I wasn’t making an excuse or defending myself. It was a statement of fact. “It’s not my fault she provoked me.”

“Wasn’t it?” she drawled. “You should have known from the moment you met her that Marisol

Crawford was no friend to you. Do you really think that just because someone is a teacher means they were never a daughter? A friend?”

She was saying Moonset took someone from Mrs. Crawford. Again, not the first time I’ve ever been in that situation. I dropped my head. “I should have been paying more attention,” I admitted. “What happens now?

The door opened behind me, and a woman not quite as old as Illana appeared. Illana stood up, gestured next to her. “Justin Daggett, meet your head principal, Miss Villanova.”

“Not the twin I thought I’d be spending my afternoon with,” Miss Villanova said. “Have you gone over everything already?”

“We’ve only just started,” Illana said.

Miss Villanova didn’t looked like she smiled much. “The school board maintains a low tolerance for violent outbursts, Mr. Daggett. Now, I understand that most schools bend the rules for you and your … family.” Her mouth twisted, just saying the word.

Bending the rules? Had they even read Jenna’s file? The principal continued. “But we set our standards a bit higher. Alternative arrangements will be made for your Independent Study classes. I can’t have my other students put in jeopardy. In the meantime, I think a two-day suspension will give you enough time to reconsider your behavior in my school.”

The room was suddenly frigid. “What?”

“You’re suspended.” Illana didn’t beat around the bush. She was blunt, forceful, and without regret. “Use your time wisely. Learn to pay more attention.”

This couldn’t be happening.

There was a knee-jerk reaction where I was filled with relief that the word she used was

“suspended” not “expulsion.” However, there were much bigger problems with that statement. I wasn’t the one who was supposed to be suspended. I wasn’t the one who got expelled. I was the good twin.

“But you know I was set up,” I said. I had to fix this. Somehow. “She did … something. She wanted me to freak out like that.”

“Which you did,” Illana agreed. “Regardless of how it happened, you still violated school policy.”

The principal cleared her throat. “Your guardian has already been called,” she said to me.

Her expression said everything she wouldn’t say out loud. Disgusted and dismissive. “You can wait out by the secretary.”

I hesitated only long enough for her to snap an additional, “Go!” Then I was up and out of the chair so fast it kept rolling back even as I was turning the doorknob. I waited in the front part of the office.

People came and left, most throwing curious glances my way, but I kept my eyes focused on the ground. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

“I know what it’s like.”

I looked up to see Luca slouched in front of me. He fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, never quite meeting my eyes.

“Know what it’s like?”

“Being put down by people like Maddy. It’s not just you.” For a second, he looked like he wanted to say something else, but the secretary dropped her phone, and the sound bulleted through the office. Luca flinched so hard he probably had whiplash, and scurried for the door.

Five minutes later Quinn showed up, the muscles in his jaw clenched. Five seconds after that, we were leaving.

We made it four blocks before he said anything. The heaters were going full blast, filling the car with warmth and tension.

“This is a joke, right? Tell me this is a joke.”

“I get it,” I responded quietly. “But she used magic on me. What was I supposed to do?”

“Do you have—” he cut himself off, frustration strangling his voice. Despite the obvious tension in the car, Quinn was a model driver. He slowed for school zones, came to complete stops, and let me dwell for whole streets at a time before continuing. “If you don’t want people to connect you with your parents, you can’t lash out like that.”