Page 67 of No Charm Done

The curved ceiling of Track 61 gleamed like the inside of a nautilus shell, each Guastavino tile catching the light from the enchanted sconces that lined the walls. Luna had forgotten how beautiful this place was. The tiles created that distinctive herringbone pattern, making you feel like you were standing inside some benevolent creature’s ribcage. Above them, commuters rushed through Grand Central Terminal, completely unaware that directly beneath their feet sat one of New York’s most powerful covens.

The coven had commandeered a 1904 subway car, one of the original Composite cars with mahogany paneling and rattan seats, and transformed it into something between a drawing room and a war council. The car sat on a section of abandoned track, and its exterior still bore the old Interborough Rapid Transit logo. But the interior had been lovingly modified. Hard bench seats had been swapped for deep leather cushions in jewel tones. Over each bench, brass reading lamps arched up and over like attentive servants. A Turkish rug ran down the center aisle, muffling footsteps and adding a touch of absurd elegance to the repurposed transit car. The windows—originally designed to show passing tunnel walls—had been enchanted to display constantly changing scenes: sometimes the 1904 inaugural run, sometimes views of the city above, sometimes just swirling patterns of light that reflected the coven’s collective mood.

Luna and Elias were wedged together on one of the bench seats about halfway down the car, their shoulders pressed against each other in the narrow space. Across from them sat three coven members whose names Luna was desperately trying to remember. Hector and Diego occupied the conductor’s area at the front, where someone had installed a pair of high-backed chairs that looked like they’d been liberated from one of Andrew Carnegie’s mansions.

“—and that’s why we believe the subway tokens are our best option,” Luna tried to project confidence she didn’t entirely feel. “Please, everyone. I understand how precious the tokens are, and how uncomfortable it must be to consider lending them out. But it’s so important that you understand the stakes. Magic isn’t meant to be democratized any more than nuclear fission or brain surgery. Some things require expertise.”

Diego and Hector perched on their thrones, silver hair gleaming in the warm light. It was a little mind-bending to realize that, just days ago, Luna and Elias had spoken with their childhood selves. The twins had grown into their power the way other people grew into their faces. They no longer finished each other’s sentences aloud, but she could see the constant flicker of communication passing between them, quick as a card shuffle.

“The girl who brings the weather,” Hector said with a slight smile. “That’s what we started calling you after the token chase. Remember, Diego?”

“How could I forget?” Diego’s tone was dry. “Four continents in six hours. I’d never realized portal hangovers were real until I jumped that many times in one day.”

“I would’ve paid good money to see that,” Elias murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. His leg pressed more firmly against hers, and she became acutely aware of how little space they actually had on this bench. The vintage car’s original designers had apparently believed personal space was for cowards.

“I accidentally portaled into a shark tank,” she whispered back.

“A what?!”

“Oklahoma Aquarium.”

“Oh my. And where is that exactly, Oklahoma City?”

She shook her head. “Jenks. Jenks, Oklahoma.”

“Please tell me you at least got a postcard.”

“Too busy not drowning.”

He nudged her affectionately. “Such a rookie.”

Luna recognized most of the coven from her previous visits. Adrienne, for example, who was still looking like she could bench-press a Honda. She sat diagonally across from them, her eyes sharp and assessing. All of them watched her with that particular mixture of fondness and wariness usually reserved for beloved but destructive pets.

But Luna relaxed slightly despite the tension. It’s going to work out, she thought. I can feel it.

Elias cleared his throat and straightened up, adopting his more formal posture. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet during her presentation, letting her take the lead. Now he leaned forward and every witch in the car turned to watch the newcomer.

“If I may . . .” He spoke in a smooth, reasonable tone that must’ve gotten him both into and out of a lifetime of sticky situations. “I understand your hesitation. But consider what’s at stake. This isn’t about Luna’s track record⁠—”

“Which is colorful,” Hector interjected.

“—very colorful,” Diego agreed.

“Undoubtedly. But we’re talking about preventing a catastrophe that affects all of us.” Elias paused, and when he continued, his voice had lost some of its polish. He sounded more honest, somehow. But Luna couldn’t help but wonder if that was part of the act, too.

“Friends, I’ve spent my entire life studying how people think. What makes them act against their own self-interest. And I’m telling you: if you make any kind of power easily available? Folks won’t just use it; they’ll use it constantly, casually, without thinking. And if regular citizens are just running around, casting spells on one another? That could mean the end of free will as we know it.”

An older woman Luna didn’t recognize spoke up from a seat near the back. “You’re the time traveler. The con man.”

“Confidence man,” Elias corrected automatically. Then, catching himself: “But yes. That’s me.”

“And you propose to use our tokens to manipulate investors into overfunding this CastR venture?”

“I propose to use your tokens to influence decisions they were already inclined to make,” Elias said carefully. “There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” The woman’s voice wasn’t unkind, just skeptical.

Diego relaxed in his throne, exchanging a heavy look with his brother. “Luna. Mr. Shaw. I appreciate that you believe this threat is real. I do. But you have to understand, in this city, we hear about apocalyptic magical threats roughly once a month.”