“And now I’ve brought Barber down here,” Jason said, thinking of Leesha. “I’m really sorry.”
“Do you think he’ll be back?”
Jason shrugged. “He’s probably just checking everywhere close. I doubt he’ll be back, unless he finds out you live here. That would be too much of a clue.”
“It still says Booker on the mailbox,” Madison said. “Everybody knows who lives here, though.” She paused. “So. What does Barber want? What are you doing here?”
I came to find out if you’re working for the Roses, Jason thought of saying. Or, I came to spy on you. Or, I came to drag you back to Trinity, willing or not. Not that he was in any condition now to do that.
So of course he said none of those things. “Barber’s looking for the Dragonheart. I guess he thinks I have it.”
“But you don’t.” She slid a sideways glance at him, trying to act casual. “Is it ...is it still in the church?”
“Yeah,” he said. She still wants it, he thought.
“Any luck using it? Figuring it out?”
He shook his head. He thought of saying, No, the thing bites me every time I try and lay a hand on it. But he didn’t say that, either. He still had hopes. “We’ve got the rest of the stuff pretty much sorted.”
They both fell silent, checking each other out like candidates for the same job.
“So,” he said finally. “You met with your art teacher?”
She nodded distractedly. “My teacher from Trinity College. I met her in Columbus so she could look over what I’d done so far. She was there for an opening.”
“So what’d she say?”
She stared at him a moment, then reached forward and grabbed the front of his T-shirt and pulled his face perilously close to hers. “Jason Haley! You did not drive all the way down here to ask about my homework!” And she gave him a little shake.
“Easy! I’m an invalid, you know,” he said, and she let go of him. “I came because someone broke into your room at the Legends and tore it all up.” He watched carefully for her reaction, and got basic bewilderment.
“Why would anyone do that? There’s nothing there to steal.”
“It was a wizard,” Jason went on. “Seph thought it might have been the Roses.”
“The Roses! Why would they break into my room?”
“They might be trying to find you,” Jason suggested. “You sure there wasn’t anything there worth stealing?” And then, on impulse, asked, “Did you leave any of your paintings behind?”
Madison turned a kind of skim-milk color, revealing freckles Jason hadn’t even known were there. “Paintings?Well, I didn’t ... I mean, I ...”
Jason stared at her. “It’s not a hard question.”
“No, but . . .” She swallowed hard. “I don’t think I left ...anything. Why do you ask?”
“Well, Seph took a look around, but he couldn’t tell if anything was missing.”
Now Madison looked positively panic-stricken. “Seph was in my room?”
“Well, yeah, he and Nick . . .”
“Seph and Nick? What were they doing? How did they get in there?” Madison leaned forward.
“Um. I guess Rachel asked Seph to come over. Actually, she thought maybe you two had a fight, and he trashed your room for revenge.”
Madison laced her long fingers together. “Did they . . . did they mention seeing any paintings?”
Damn, Jason thought. I don’t believe it. She’s totally guilty. She knows that painting was bad news.
But if she meant for Seph to find it, why is she acting so freaky? Was she going to give the thing to somebody—some coconspirator? Did she have a plan for it and now it’s messed up? If it’s messed up, do I want her to know it’s messed up?
“Jason?” Madison was staring at him, biting her lip, waiting for some kind of response.
Acting on instinct, he shook his head. “No, he didn’t say anything about a painting. Why? Is one missing?”
“Um, no,” Madison said. “Just wondered.”
She was absolutely hopeless as a liar. There was something wrong with this whole picture of Madison as secret agent or assassin. Like maybe he’d put the puzzle together by forcing the pieces in a way they were not meant to go.
They avoided looking at each other.
Finally, Madison spoke. “So. You came all the way down here to tell me about . . . about a burglary?”
“Well, ah ...pretty much.” Jason cleared his throat. “Seph wants you to come back to Trinity. He’d . . . like to keep a better eye on you.” Well. That was true enough.
“What?” She sat down on the floor next to the mattress, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Did anyone think of asking me about it?”
“He doesn’t think it’s safe for you to be down here on your own.”
“I’m sorry, Jason, but I really don’t think anyone’s out to get me.”
Well, no, not if they’re coconspirators. Another puzzle piece jammed into place.
“I’m safer here than there, anyway,” Madison went on. “If someone could break into my room with Rachel on guard, they could do anything else they wanted, too. If a stranger showed up in Coal Grove, he’d be noticed in a hot second. The only wizards I know of in the whole county are you, Warren Barber, and Brice Roper. And Barber followed you down here.”
Jason blinked. Grace had mentioned that name. “Who’s Brice Roper?”
“A jerk and a liar. He lives at the base of the mountain. He has horses.” She seemed to think that was word enough on Brice Roper because she clamped her mouth shut, and Jason felt sort of sorry for Brice Roper, whoever he was.
Jason turned and dug in his backpack, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He looked up to find Madison glaring at him. “What?”
“You think I’m going to let you light up in a barn?”
“Oh. Sorry.”
She snatched the cigarettes away from him. “Matter of fact, this entire mountain is smoke free where you’re concerned.”
“Huh?” But Madison had that mulish look on her face again. “Look, I’ll smoke in the yard. I’ll smoke in the woods. I’ll smoke in the fricking outhouse. Whatever you want.” He extended his hand.
She stuck the cigarettes in her jeans pocket. “If you think I’m going to let you poison yourself after all the yick I went through to save your life, you are a crazy man.” She made a face and wiped her hands on her shirt.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll smoke twice as much after I leave.” He paused. “So. Are you coming back with me?”
Madison stood and began to pace, flinging her hands out as she talked. “I can’t just pack up and leave. Judge Ragland released Grace and J.R. on condition that I’m here to watch them. If I leave, the county will take custody again.”
Jason sighed. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy. And if Madison was conspiring with someone, it was a tough call whether it was better to bring her back into the sanctuary where they could watch her, or to keep her at a distance. The ban on attack magic didn’t seem to work in her case. But he still didn’t understand how she could put a hex in a painting, if she wasn’t gifted.
If she was working for the Roses, though, wouldn’t she be hot to come back to Trinity so she could get her hands on the Dragonheart?
Realizing she was waiting for a response, he said, “So what are you going to do?” It was no use to try and force Madison into anything. Wizardry would do no good on her, and in his present condition he couldn’t very well carry her kicking and screaming to the car.
If he had a car.
“Look,” Madison said, “If I don’t get this portfolio done, I’ll lose the whole semester. And the kids are depending on me. I can’t go tearing back to Trinity because of a break-in. Seems like I’d be heading for trouble instead of away from it.” Madison waited, twisting a lock of hair between her thumb and forefinger. When Jason didn’t respond, she said, “How is Seph doing?”
“Cranky as hell. He misses you.”
<
br /> “I thought he’d be feeling better . . . with me out of the way.”
Jason stared at her. He’d decided a long time ago that girls had this totally warped world view. This just confirmed it. “He’s crazy about you, Madison. Why would he be feeling better?”
“I told him he should get out of Trinity. I warned him. I told him it was going to end up bad.”
By now Jason’s paranoia was in overdrive. Did she know it was going to end up bad because she had inside information?
“He won’t leave, Maddie. They don’t have anyone else.”
She stared down at her hands. “I am coming back. When I get things settled here. In the meantime, I’ll lay low.”
Right. Like she could lose herself in the teeming crowds of Coal Grove, Jason thought.
“Seph won’t be happy.” The argument was wearing him out. The cold pain in his chest had returned. Was he ever going to be back to normal?
“When you get back, you tell Seph to stop worrying about me and take better care of himself,” Madison said.
“I’m not going back to Trinity,” Jason said, without thinking. Damn! He was an idiot, trying to play this complicated game with his head still swimming from the effects of the poison.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to England.” He paused, then brandished the only weapon he had. The one he would never use. “So. No one needs to know about Grace. And no one needs to know I’m here.” He met Madison’s blue eyes straight on. He needed time to recover, and he didn’t want them sending someone down to interrogate him in the meantime.
Her eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened into an angry line. “Fine! It’s your funeral.”
“Exactly,” he said, smiling a little, trying to defuse the tension.
“What am I supposed to tell Seph? He’s expecting to hear from you.”
“If he asks, tell him I never showed.”
Madison’s eyes went wide with shock. “If he asks? Jason! He’ll think you either ran off or something happened to you.”
Jason beat back a wave of guilt, knowing Seph deserved to know about Barber, at least. But Jason would be staying a while, in case Barber came back.
Right. Last time, a ten-year-old saved your butt.
“Trinity would be safer for you, you know,” Madison said, as if reading his mind.
“Safer for me, but not for you?” He paused, and when she couldn’t come up with an answer, added, “Anyway, I’m not looking for a hideout.”
She stood. “Still. You better lay low. In case Barber’s looking for you.”
“He’d better worry about me looking for him!” he called after her.
When the door closed behind her, he settled gratefully back against the pillows. He wasn’t afraid of Warren Barber. He just needed to rest a bit and get back in shape.
If Madison were involved in some kind of conspiracy, he couldn’t very well leave Seph at her mercy. But Seph would never believe anything bad about Madison without evidence. Since he had to hang around Coal Grove for a while, maybe he could find out for sure whose side Madison Moss was on, and who she was hanging with, and who this Brice Roper was.
Perhaps if he just closed his eyes . . .
Madison threaded the pickup between the twin brick pillars that marked the entrance to Bry-Son Farms. Pristine white fencing marched away in both directions, marking the boundary of the Roper property. She navigated the long drive, past the Greek Revival mansion and around back to the horse barn.
A body would never know this whole thing was built on the backs of coal miners.
The horse barn was freshly painted red. Four dapple-gray Arabians with velvety black noses poked their heads over the paddock gate. In the pasture beyond, crocus and snowdrops poked up between patches of snow.
This is a farm out of a romance novel, she thought. I’ll bet the horses don’t even crap in their stalls.
As she turned toward the house, she saw three riders emerge from the woods at the far end of the pasture. Grace rode a high-stepping, fine-boned bay mare. Brice came along behind on a big-boned black gelding and John Robert on a small dapple gray. When Grace saw Madison, she applied her heels to the horse’s sides and came flying across the pasture, her hair streaming out like a banner, reining to a hard stop just in front of Madison.
“Grace!” Madison said, waving away the dust that boiled up around the horse’s feet. “Don’t be a show-off.”
Grace’s cheeks were flushed with excitement. “Maddie! This is Abby. Well, that’s her barn name, anyway. Her registered name is Barbary’s Abby Ann. She’s so sweet. Brice says he’s never seen her take to anyone the way she . . .”
“Where have you been?”
Grace blinked at her. “Why, we rode up to the old furnace.”
“That’s on our property. You had no business taking him up on the mountain.” She tilted her head toward Brice.
Brice reined in next to Grace. He’d been setting his pace to John Robert’s. “It’s my fault. I asked her to show me the waterfall.”
“Like you haven’t snuck up there on your own before now.”
“Why do you always have to be so mean?” Grace stage whispered to Madison.
Brice just rolled his eyes and swung gracefully down to the ground.
Grace dismounted, too, then stood uncertainly, clutching the reins.
“You can go on up to the house,” Brice said. “Mike’ll look after the horses.”
Grace didn’t move. “Mr. Ragland always said you should take care of your own horse.”
“I won’t tell anybody.” Brice lifted John Robert out of his saddle and set him on the ground.
“I could’ve got down myself!” John Robert protested.
Brice patted him on the shoulder. “You and Grace go ask Sylvia for some lemonade and cake. Madison and I will be up in a little while.”
“No,” Madison said quickly. “We can’t stay. I have a lot to do, and I’ve wasted most of the day already.”
“Oh, come on,” Brice said impatiently, gripping her arm. “Don’t rush off. Sylvia made a seven-layer chocolate cake. It’ll break her heart if there’s only me to eat it. Besides, I want to show you something.”
“Let go of me!” Madison ripped her arm free. “When are you going to learn to keep your hands to yourself?”
Brice shook his head in disbelief. “What’s with you, anyway?” he demanded, as if she were being totally unreasonable. Meanwhile, Grace and J.R. stood there awkwardly.
“Chocolate cake, Maddie?” J.R. said wistfully.
“This won’t take long,” Brice said. “I promise, okay?”
“Fine,” Madison said. “Let’s get this over with.” Why couldn’t she make Brice Roper sick, instead of Seph? It was only fair. After all, Brice made her sick.
Brice led her along the fence line on the far side of the pasture. Someone had laid a cobblestone path and planted lemon thyme between the stones. The path angled into the woods, into the chill of the shade. They followed a small stream, some minor tributary of Booker Creek.
They finally broke out of the woods and into a small clearing overlooking the river below. It was centered by a small cedar-and-stone cottage. Though it appeared to be fairly new, it had an abandoned look. The surrounding meadow was thigh-high in winter-charred thistle, blackberry, and tree seedlings.
The view was breathtaking. Far below, the river wound between steep banks. The hills rolled away to the south and east, smoky blue and green and gray where the snow had worn away.
“What is this?” Madison whispered, knowing there must be a story.
“This was my mother’s studio.” Brice led her around the building. The whole front was glass, embracing the crinkled land beyond.
Brice opened the front door with a key. The front room was a soaring space, with thick beams bracing the roof far above, skylights between. There was a kitchen and dining area at the rear of the house and a spiral staircase to what must be sleeping quarters above.
&nb
sp; Like the meadow, it had a neglected look. The furniture was covered with canvas drop cloths, and dust glittered in the sunlight that poured through the skylights.
“You know my mother’s an artist, too,” Brice said. “After my parents divorced, she moved to New York City.”
Naturally, he assumed Madison knew the story about the nasty divorce, the new young wife. Which naturally, she did. The Ropers were the royalty of Coalton County.
“My stepmother doesn’t come up here.” He was cool, matter-of-fact, with no element of judgment in his voice or expression.
Unlike Madison. She’d spent her whole life judging people against her personal set of standards. She was great at holding grudges. She should get a prize.
She stood at the window, looking down over the valley. “Very pretty,” she admitted. “But why’d you bring me here?”
“I thought maybe you’d want to use it.”
She swung around. “For what?”
“For painting. Grace says you’ve been painting like a fiend.”
“Why would I want to come here? I can paint at home.” Why was Grace telling Brice Roper anything?
He shrugged. “It’s a great space, and it’s going to waste.”
“Just because you’ve got something doesn’t mean I want it.”
He stepped closer and stood, looking down at her. She tried to step back but came up against the window. “We could deed it over to you.”
“I have a house. What do I need with two?”
“You don’t need a rundown ruin on top of Booker Mountain,” Brice said. “Mr. McCartney says you’ll own the mountain in a few months. You know my father wants to buy it. He’ll give you a good price for it. A great price, in fact. You’ll be rich.”
“Wow. Sounds like a dream come true,” Madison said.
Encouraged, Brice pressed on. “So you can stay. Or you can get out of this dump of a town entirely. You can go to art school. Wherever you want. And after you graduate, we could help set you up. My mother knows people. She has gallery connections in New York and Chicago.”
“So. How would you get the coal out of Booker Mountain?”
He blinked up at her, surprised at the change of subject. “Carlene let my father drill some test holes. The seams are close to the surface, so he’d probably take the top of the mountain off.”
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