Witch & Wizard Read Free Page B

her disappearance. He knew something. He was taunting me.
    “The question is,” he went on, “
can
you be good again? Can you learn to obey the rules?”
    He threw up his hands. “Don’t know?!” he exclaimed even as my paralyzed mouth prevented me from screaming the string of choice obscenities I was trying to fling at him. Then he turned to Wisty. “Wisteria Allgood, I know all about you too. Disobedient, recalcitrant, a truant, over two weeks of detention due to be served at your high school. The question is, can you
ever
be good? Can you possibly learn to obey?”
    He stared at Wisty, silent, waiting.
    And in true Wisty fashion, she did the most adorable little curtsy, then proclaimed, “Of course, sir, your every waking wish is my command.”
    Wisty stopped her sarcastic speech rather suddenly, and I realized that he’d paralyzed her too. Then The One Who Is The One turned to his guards. “Take them away! They shall never see their parents again. Nor shall you, Ben and Eliza, see your very special offspring until the day you all die.”

Whit
    WISTY AND I WERE in a big black van that had no windows. My heart was thumping like an epileptic rabbit’s, and my vision was nearly whited-out with adrenaline. It took every shred of sanity I had left not to throw myself at the van walls. I pictured myself smashing my head against the metal, kicking open the back doors, helping Wisty out, and escaping into the night…
    Only none of that happened.
    As far as I knew, I was
not
a wizard, and not a superhero either. I was just a high school kid who’d been ripped out of his home.
    I looked over at poor Wisty, but I was barely able to make out her profile in the dark. Her wet hair dripped onto my arm, and I realized she was shivering badly. Maybe with cold, maybe with shock, maybe with cold and shock and total freaking disbelief.
    I put my arms around her bony shoulders, awkwardly because I was now handcuffed. I had to slip her head between my arms. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done that, except maybe to pin her down because she’d gotten into my stuff, or when I’d caught her spying on me and… Celia.
    I couldn’t think about her right now or I might completely lose it.
    “You okay?” I said. Wisty appeared to be totally uncharred—no roasting-hot-dog smell or anything.
    “Of course I’m not okay,” she said, leaving the usual “you idiot” off the end of her sentence. “They must have dumped something flammable on me. I’m not burned, though.”
    “I didn’t see them spray anything on you,” I said. “It was like, boom—flamesicle!” I mustered a weak smile. “’Course, I always knew your hair was dangerous.” Wisty is a real carrottop—with thick, wavy bright-red hair that she hates but that I think is kind of cool.
    Wisty was too freaked to take the bait about her hair—at first. “Whit, what’s going on? What does schmucky-
beyond
-schmucky Byron Swain have to do with it? What’s happening to us? And to Mom and Dad?”
    “It’s got to be some kind of terrible mistake. Mom and Dad never hurt a fly.” I remembered my parents then, held fast and helpless, and I had to swallow my rage.
    Just then, the van came to a lurching halt. I tensed, staring hard at the doors, primed to barrel somebody down. Even in handcuffs. Even if it was a giant, steroid-enhanced soldier.
    I wasn’t going to let them hurt my sister. I wasn’t going to be a goody-goody and obey their stupid rules.

Whit
    IT WAS LIKE WE’D WOKEN UP, and suddenly we were living in a totalitarian state.
    The first thing I saw looming over me were dozens of flapping flags and the big black block letters N.O.
    NO.
It seemed totally appropriate, even a touch poetic.
NO.
    Wisty and I were outside a huge, windowless building, surrounded by a chain-link, concertina-wire-topped fence. Giant letters that read NEW ORDER REFORMATORY were engraved in a stone rising high above the steel entryway.
    Then the doors creaked open, and I