Chosen Ones (The Chosen Ones, #1)

by Veronica Roth

THEY LEFT ALBIE with Cho so he could try the device. She had promised to get him home when they were finished. Sloane had no doubt that the device worked—she would not have felt its presence so strongly if it didn’t. They all had their own way of relating to magic, and hers was with craving, and seeking, and understanding. She knew the device, and the device knew her. Albie had been more straightforward in his use of magic. Albie with the Freikugeln—the bullets of German legend that struck their targets without fail—had just been a man with a tool, the same as a hammer or a saw. His artifact had not burrowed under his skin, becoming part of him, the way Koschei’s Needle had done to her. He had simply held the bullets, and though they never did what the legend said they would—none of the artifacts they had collected had—they had allowed him to perform rudimentary magic, lighting fires, making objects float, things like that.