“When?” I asked, my interest piqued.
“This morning. The sheriff stopped by the bank to tell us.”
“That’s great.” I tried not to think about the fact that the sheriff had not tried to get in touch with me, as I kept hoping he would.
“I can’t wait until I can quit,” Madison said.
“Have you told your father you’re only working there for the summer?”
She looked down, shaking her head. I didn’t entirely understand her relationship with her father, but I knew there was tension there. He didn’t like the idea of her teaching music. No, it was more than that. He hated the idea of her singing, and had forbidden her to do it since her earliest memories. It all seemed out of proportion to me, and had since Madison had confided the truth to me a few years back. Many parents wanted their children to have a stable, backup career, but Madison didn’t even want to perform. She was one of those rare musicians who set out wanting to teach. Besides, why forbid her to sing in the shower? That was the story that had confused me the most.
Madison’s father wanted her to work at the bank he managed. She had accepted a part-time job there for the summer, but she still planned to student teach in the fall, which would complete her requirements to become an accredited music teacher.
My hope that polite conversation would dispel the tension was dashed when Evan leaned forward to take a sip of soda. He immediately began to cough and splutter. Only then did I notice the steam coming out of his glass.
“Nicolas!” I cried.
The steaming contents of Evan’s soda cup suddenly flew out of the glass and into Nicolas’s lap. He yelped, leaping to his feet and drawing the attention of everyone in the diner who hadn’t already been looking at the strange mix of Scots and Blackwoods at the same table.
“Evan.” I laid my hand on his arm to get his attention, not expecting the intense feelings of awareness that came with the contact. Quickly, I withdrew my hand. “I’ll get you some water.”
I practically dashed for the counter, more to give myself time to calm down than anything else. If I had a magical gift of my own, it would be boiling right now, too, and even though I felt Nicolas had started it, I was just as angry at Evan. He was older than Nicolas, stronger, more practiced, more in control, and...
...and of the two, Evan was the one who could hurt me the most.
“Cassie?” a male voice asked.
My heart jumped into my throat, which said more about the state of my nerves than it did about the fact that someone had just snuck up behind me. Whirling, I found myself face to face with my ex-boyfriend, Braden.
“Hi,” I said.
“I’ve been trying to call you for days,” Braden said.
I groaned. He and everyone else, apparently. Maybe if I charged people directly for calling me, I could afford a cell phone again.
But I knew what he wanted to talk about, and now was not the best time – with Evan lurking so near. Braden planned to attend law school in Chicago in the fall, and he wanted me to go with him, possibly hoping we could get back together again. I didn’t think that would happen, although the idea of leaving Eagle Rock appealed to me more than it once had.
“I wanted to talk to you about...” he trailed off, and I was sure he had just spotted Evan.
It didn’t surprise me when Evan came up behind me and placed an arm around my shoulder, drawing me fully against him, but I did stiffen at the blatantly possessive posture.
“What do you need to talk about?” Evan asked.
To his credit, Braden didn’t shrink away, although his face grew noticeably paler. “It’s private.”
“How about if I call you later tonight?” I asked, hoping to forestall further idiotic male posturing.
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Braden looked like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t, nor did he stick around. With a final nod of farewell, he left the diner.
“I’ll just get you that water.” I tried to pull away from Evan, but he held me close.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”
“Is Nicolas?”
“He’ll live.”
“Great. I just love the standards we’re setting.” I allowed Evan to guide me back to our table, trying not to notice the hand he kept on my lower back.
When we arrived, Kaitlin was delivering plates of food.
“Thanks,” I said, touching her on the shoulder before I sat down. I had recently developed a new appreciation for how hard she worked, but she didn’t acknowledge the gesture.
“Can I get you anything else?” she asked. I noticed she had dark circles under her eyes, as if she hadn’t been sleeping.
“Are you okay?” I wondered if I snored as loudly at night as she did.
“Fine.”
“Can I get a new Coke?” Evan asked, handing her his empty glass.
“Sure.”
After she had gone, I tried to busy myself with my French fries while I searched for a new topic of conversation. The tension between Evan and Nicolas had not eased in the slightest.
“What did he want?” Evan asked.
“I’m not sure.” I shrugged, not letting my face or posture reveal anything. The last thing I needed was for Evan to think I might leave town. I didn’t think his reluctance to order me around would survive that kind of blow.
“Are you still seeing him?”
“So what if she is?” Nicolas cut in. His face was red, his fingers drumming ominously on the table.
“No, I’m not.” I didn’t want the argument, especially since Braden and I were not, in fact, seeing each other. “We broke up weeks ago.”
“I think it broke Kaitlin’s heart, too,” Madison said, a small, uncertain smile on her face.
Beside me, Evan relaxed, though Nicolas continued his drumming.
We ate in painful silence for several minutes, until Madison once again tried to fill the conversational void.
“Are you coming to the concert on Saturday?” she asked. “My kids are performing for the fourth of July. Well, the third. Everyone was too busy on the fourth.”
There was something a little sweet about how she said, “My kids,” and I couldn’t help but smile. She had been spending some of her free time volunteering with the summer arts and music program – something else she probably hadn’t told her father about. The program was made up largely of college-aged volunteers supervised by a handful of paid employees who set the curriculum. A sliding fee structure ensured that any child could attend.
“I saw something about it in the paper,” I said.
Madison winced. “Yeah, my father saw it.”
“I’ll be there.” I hadn’t been sure before, but seeing that look on her face, I knew I would go. “Will you be singing too?”
She shook her head. “No. The kids have been trying to... but no. This is just for the kids to show off what they’ve been doing all summer.”
I was about to comment on what a rare treat it would be to hear her sing, when Evan’s cell phone rang.
“Hi, Dad.” Evan listened for a while, his face growing darker with each passing second. I stared at his profile, trying to guess what was going on that had him looking so forlorn. When he hung up, he sat in silence, ignoring the rest of the food on his plate.
I glanced at Madison, who had also stopped eating. Actually, from the looks of it, she had barely started in on her salad. She would go through phases lasting up to a week where she would order salads instead of her usual cheeseburgers. I assumed she was trying to diet, though I had no idea if it ever worked. To be fair, I didn’t think she had gotten any bigger since our junior year of high school, but I didn’t think she had gotten any smaller, either.
“Are you okay?” I asked, finally breaking the silence, if not the tension.
Evan nodded, then turned to face me fully. “I need your help.”
“Now?” I asked.
“Yes, as soon as we’re done here.”
“She can’t,” Nico
las said. “She’s already got things to do this afternoon.”
The two men squared off, brown eyes locked on blue ones. I could see, even if they couldn’t, that each thought his own need the greater.
“Stop it, you two,” I said. “Evan, what’s this about? I’m sure we can work something out.”
“I’m not,” Nicolas muttered. His fingers had stopped their drumming, but his face was dangerously red.
Madison bit her lip, shot me an anxious look, and grabbed her fork. Suddenly, her eyes popped and her hand spasmed, launching the utensil across the table until it clattered against Evan’s plate. Then she let out a high-pitched squeak of pain, and clenched her hand to her chest as tears began to swim in her eyes.
“Oh, crap,” Nicolas said.
I knew instantly what had happened. Anger had caused his gift to get out of control and heat the fork, which had been right next to his drumming fingertips. From the look on Madison’s face, it had done a number on her.
“Let me see,” Nicolas said.
Madison shook her head, whimpering.
“Madison,” Nicolas said, more gently, “let me see.”
She looked at me for help, and I gave her an encouraging nod. “Let him. He’s an expert on burns.” He pretty much had to be.
Reluctantly, Madison lowered her hand and let Nicolas pry loose her clenched fingers. Even from across the table, I could tell that the nasty second degree burn was beginning to blister.
“I’ve got something in my bag to treat this.” Nicolas let go of her hand and grabbed the backpack he used to transport common tools he liked to keep with him at all times.
Madison looked like she wanted to argue, but instead she nodded, once. Then, in a rare show of bravado, she said, “You don’t make any sense. The guy saved your sister’s life, but you’re acting like a real jerk.” She immediately pulled her hand back and turned her face away. Of course, she didn’t understand the real issue, and since I hadn’t told her the whole truth, I had to feel a spark of pride that she’d stood up to Nicolas.
Nicolas paused in his search to give Madison a wary look.
“I can’t believe I said that,” Madison whispered.
“Somebody needed to,” Evan said.
Nicolas glared at him. “Oh, really? So are you going to rethink my offer?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.” Nicolas found the jar of burn ointment. The pale green concoction smelled strongly of aloe vera, though I knew it contained much more, including a touch of magic.
Madison looked at it warily, but she allowed Nicolas to rub a generous amount of it into her hand and fingers. I could tell it started working the instant it touched her burned skin, because her mouth fell slightly open and her eyes widened in shock.
“Don’t wash this off for at least thirty minutes,” Nicolas told her. “This isn’t as bad as it looked so you shouldn’t need another treatment. Give me a call this evening if there’s still any redness.”
“Okay.” Madison began to inspect her hand. “It feels better. I think it feels better than it did before I touched that fork. Wish I’d had this stuff when I worked at McDonald’s and splattered hot grease all over my hand. I still have the scars.” She lifted her uninjured hand, the left one, to show him the faint pink discolorations on the back of her hand and her wrist.
Without missing a beat, Nicolas took her left hand and rubbed some of the burn ointment over the scars. When he wetted a napkin to gently wipe the ointment clear, the scars were gone.
“Wow,” Madison breathed. “You didn’t have to do that.”
I hadn’t realized the ointment would work on old scars, so even I was impressed. A short, betraying smile showed that Nicolas hadn’t been sure either.
“It wasn’t a big deal.” Nicolas put the lid back on the jar, and popped it back in his bag. It wasn’t a typical Nicolas move, but I thought I understood why he had gone the extra step to heal the years-old scars. Ever since he had sat down at that table, he and Evan had been frightening Madison with increasingly ugly displays of magic, and he wanted to make up for that by showing her the beautiful side of magic. It’s also possible that he wanted to show off a bit.
“Cassie,” Evan said, his voice low. “I don’t know what you and your brother have planned this afternoon. I don’t want to get in the way of it, but this is time sensitive.”
I held up my hand to forestall anything Nicolas might say. “What is it?”
“A distant cousin of mine went missing from a summer camp in Arkansas,” Evan said. “Her name’s Laura, and she and a friend...”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “What a small world.” I glared at my brother. “Maybe, sometimes, you should stop and listen before you make snap judgments.”
He avoided my eyes. Good. At least he felt some shame for his actions.
“Cassie?” Evan frowned. “Will you help me?”
I slid out of the booth. “Let’s go.”
4
I’M GOING TO NEED TO STOP by my parents’ house before we leave town,” Evan said when we were well on our way. “My dad’s got pictures, a hair sample, and he wants me to help him with one more location spell before we give up on that path.”
I shuddered, not at all thrilled with the idea of seeing Evan’s father again.
“You’ll be okay,” Evan said, noting my reaction.
“Hmm. Is this the part where you tell me he’s not as bad as I think he is?”
“How bad do you think he is?”
I hesitated. Discussing our fathers had been a well-understood no-no almost from the first. Then again, having the discussion had never seemed so important before. Perhaps if I told him exactly what his father had done to mine, and then he told me what mine had done to his, he wouldn’t want me anymore.
“Well, he destroyed the house I lived in when I was a baby,” I began. “Something about a tornado on a sunny day.”
Evan rolled his eyes. “Your father burned down his house.”
“At least no one was in the house when he did. Your father killed our cat.”
“We had two hamsters and a snake trapped inside.”
“Your father keeps pet snakes? I suppose that explains the strange poison that ended up in our drinking water. Mom would have died if she hadn’t been....” I trailed off. Mom had been pregnant with Juliana, and the unborn baby had healed her mother, but even though Evan now knew there was a healer in the family, I didn’t want him to know which one.
A quick glance at Evan told me that he had worked out the truth for himself. He looked entirely too smug. “Not a smart slip. I can do math. It’s Juliana, then? I guessed as much. Her or Isaac, since your family tries to pretend neither one has an active gift.”
I closed my eyes, silently cursing myself for my stupidity.
“Besides, my father had an antidote. He wouldn’t have done it if your father hadn’t stolen a rare book he needed.”
“My father didn’t steal that book. It was his.”
“You know we could be at this all day, right?”
I hesitated. “Yeah.”
“It’s why we don’t usually talk about it.”
“Is that why?”
“That, and because it doesn’t have anything to do with us.”
“Doesn’t it?” It’s what I had told myself and my father for years, and as long as we had simply been friends, I was right. Now, though, Evan was taking me to see his parents.
“It doesn’t.” Evan spoke firmly, and finally.
I didn’t know if I agreed, but I let the conversation lapse into silence until we reached his parents’ house, only about half a mile from Evan’s new house. The home was well-kept, stylish, and elegant, but, I thought, a little on the small side. Then again, Evan was an only child, so perhaps they didn’t need or want much space.
Laura Blackwood, Evan’s mother, opened the door. She motioned us both inside, her eyes giving me a thorough appraisal as she told Evan that his father was in the attic. E
van squeezed my hand and told me he’d be down in a few minutes, then left me alone with his mother.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked.
“No, thank you.”
“We may as well have a seat in the living room while we wait.” She led me down a short, welcoming entrance hall to a living room that somehow managed to look comfortable and pristine at the same time. Earth tones dominated the room, with a lovely view of the woods through a pair of French doors completing the woodsy atmosphere. Nothing was out of place, nor did it appear overly crowded. Everything seemed to have a place, including me, and my place seemed to be in the recliner by the fireplace.
“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Blackwood.” It was polite, and true, which meant she would probably never know if I was being sincere or not. Although since she was a respected interior designer, perhaps she would.
“You may as well call me Laura,” she said.
My face paled, and I determinedly looked away from the dark-haired beauty, whose face reminded me strongly of her son’s.
“I think I’d feel more comfortable with Mrs. Blackwood right now,” I replied.
“Have it your way.”
I turned back to face her, and noticed her still looking at me. “What?”
“You look just like your mother.”
“I know.” I scowled at the reminder. In fact, since my mother took rejuvenating potions that made her look twenty-something, we were beginning to look like twins.
“I guess you don’t want to talk about her right now. Although if it helps, she was always a self-centered bitch.”
My mouth dropped open slightly at hearing the coarse language coming from such a refined-looking woman. She made no apology for her comments, and irrationally, I felt a moment of resentment at the attack. Who was this woman to say such things about my mother? But of course, Sheila Scot wasn’t my mother any longer, and perhaps Laura Blackwood had as much invested in our families’ rivalry as her husband.
“Is that why you don’t like me?” I asked. “Because I look like my mother?”
“What makes you think I don’t like you?”
I didn’t know, but I felt sure of it, so I shrugged.
Secrets and Lies (Cassie Scot) Page 5