The Invocations

by Krystal Sutherland

Electric Ballroom,

SO WEIRD THATS WHERE I SAW AUTHUR HILL

the kind of place she has been told all her life to avoid for the simple fact that she is a girl—but tonight she is cold and drunk and sad and hungry for the leftover pad thai she knows is waiting for her in the fridge.

No face, no weapon, nothing to indicate that he might do her harm. Just a man. But she is a girl. And she is alone. And it is night. And that is enough.

Her muscles feel heavy, in a good way. She likes to be able to feel the meat of them when she walks.

All that muscle, just beneath the skin, encasing her bones. That is power.

“Women hunters. Calling them witch hunters is far too lenient.

Emer looks at each of them and sighs. “Even the devil does not trust men to honor a bargain, so it does not deal with them. It offers power only to women.”

because nothing feels better than praise from your harshest critic.

That becoming the hero of your own story does not always mean you get a happy ending.

Abby could not be swayed. Most women, when they decide on heartspace spells, cannot be bargained down. They want power. They are furious. They are willing to burn themselves to the ground to wield what they have never known.

“I wrote that spell. It was an invocation for a woman who wanted to be able to get out of the way of her husband’s hands when he was drunk. It allowed her to flicker into the next room.” “God,” Jude says, “you’d think a divorce would be easier.”

The photograph makes Zara’s skin crawl. That so much misery can be hidden behind a smile.