Carrie kept touching her face as we walked. “How did you do that?”
“Stop touching your face,” I warned her. “Let it do its work.”
“Are you a witch, too?”
I gave her my practiced mysterious smile, the one I used anytime someone asked me about my magical abilities, and continued to lead her into the woods. “What we really need is stinging nettle and Queen Anne’s lace.”
“Why?” Carrie asked.
“The stinging nettle protects us from curses and the Queen Anne’s lace protects us from the stinging nettle.”
“So you’re a witch, then?” Carrie asked again.
“I’m not the one who cursed you.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean – I guess you’re a good witch.”
“Oh, I assure you, I am a very bad witch.” By which I meant lousy rather than evil, but she didn’t have to know that.
We waited until quarter after six to go to the mess hall for dinner, a ploy to ensure that everyone else would be present and seated when Carrie and I made our grand entrance. Indeed, the whispers started as soon as we were past the threshold. Within a minute they had turned to murmurs, unflattering stares, and a few shouts.
Most of the campers were staring at Carrie, but more than a few were staring at the green-haired girl, as if waiting to see how she would react. As I had hoped, she decided to make a stand right there in the middle of the crowd.
“Did you do this?” Liza’s accusation was directed at me, which was exactly where I wanted the blame. She didn’t strike me as anything I couldn’t handle, not after dealing with Nicolas, Juliana, and Isaac.
“Do what?” I asked innocently.
“What happened to her zits?” Liza demanded.
“What zits? I don’t remember seeing any zits.” The mutterings in the mess hall increased in response to my bold and obvious lie. It wasn’t the sort of magic I specifically had to hide, although I wouldn’t give out the recipe, but I resented the fact that I had to bring magic into this safe haven. Besides, the denial got a rise out of Liza.
“Let me see,” Liza said, “do you prefer itching or burning rashes?”
I managed to keep my lips from twitching into a smile, but it was a near thing. Even I can make potions to cause rashes and acne, and with a lot less melodrama. Not that I would need to spend hours brewing a potion if Liza decided to hurl a curse – the stinging nettle would hurl it right back.
“Why not both?” With that, I turned my back on her and ushered Carrie to the food line.
I didn’t feel the curse hit my back, but I did hear the shriek of pain from Liza when it rebounded on her. It took a while for the other campers to react, but as I turned away from the food line with a plate full of spaghetti, everyone began to clap. That’s when Liza scowled and ran from the room.
They all wanted to know how I’d done it. Of course, they were convinced that I was a witch as well – a good witch, as Carrie had put it – but I refused any credit for what I’d done. When pressed, all I would say was, “I hate bullies,” and give the questioner a mysterious smile.
* * *
Camp Ozark looked to me to be a mosaic of every camp I’d ever attended. In a way, we hadn’t strayed far from home, because the southernmost tendril of Table Rock Lake wound into Arkansas, straight through Camp Ozark. But Table Rock is a long, many-headed serpent of a lake with many thousands of miles of shoreline. Though these waters connected with the waters back home (that I used to be able to see through my bedroom window, before my parents kicked me out), it felt different in a way I could not quite comprehend. There were the same types of trees dotting the shoreline, similar hillsides, and a similar view of the other side of the lake across a narrow stretch of water, almost like a wide river. Yet it may as well have been in a different country.
When I commented on this to Evan, he nodded. “No node down here.”
I couldn’t feel node energy, so I was sure that hadn’t been what I meant, but I understood why Evan would latch onto that fact, first and foremost. A node is a concentration of magical energies that sorcerers can tap into, increasing their strength and potential. The reason that so many sorcerers lived in such a small area around Eagle Rock was that such a node existed beneath the nearby section of Table Rock Lake, and they all wanted to live as close to it as they could manage.
We drove up a small hill to the left, and then spotted the administration building. It was a small, unassuming wooden structure that probably couldn’t have supported more than half a dozen people at any given time. On that particular afternoon, all the action was at the mess hall. It was located just beyond the administration building, nestled against a copse of trees that allowed only taunting glimpses of the lake beyond.
A small winding road forked to the left along the lakeshore, past a boat dock and swimming beach. It continued around a bend that probably led to the campers’ cabins and other activities.
Though it was a beautiful afternoon when we arrived, there were no campers at the beach or on the lake. There were a few milling about the mess hall, but all of those held packed bags and stood with adults that could only have been their parents. Clearly, the exodus had begun.
The mess hall buzzed with a charged sort of energy that felt like it might explode at any moment. A small parking lot between the mess hall and administration building was full to overflowing, vehicles spilling out onto a large grassy area in front. The grassy area was full, due to some ill-conceived parking jobs. Evan stopped the car, focused, and slowly, the cars began to shift. It took a few minutes, but he not only found a place to park, he left the other cars in more manageable rows. He didn’t even look winded.
Reaching into the backseat, Evan grabbed the brown satchel he used to transport magical supplies. “Here we go.”
No one paid us any attention as we strode up the large stone steps and made our way inside what was clearly command central for the search parties. I scanned the room, looking for whoever was in charge of coordinating the search, I couldn’t pick him out of the crowd of frightened campers, angry parents, and helpless staff. Several men and women in the uniform of the local county sheriff’s department stood behind a long table toward the back of the room, near the kitchen, but they were all intent on the donuts and coffee laid out on that table. I had expected to see someone with a map, a row of walkie-talkies, and an authoritative air, but I found only chaos.
“Who’s in charge here?” I wondered aloud.
Evan’s gaze darted around the room, as lost as my own.
Finally, I settled on a gray-haired woman with short cropped hair wearing a costume reminiscent of every camp counselor I’d ever seen – green and quasi-military. She stood in a corner holding a clipboard, which was the most official-looking thing in sight. Gingerly, I picked my way through the crowd until I stood by her side.
“Are you here to join the search party, or collect a camper?” the woman asked.
“Neither, exactly.” I pulled a business card out of my purse and handed it to her. “I’ve been hired to find the girls. From the looks of things, you can use the help.”
She stiffened as she took the card and eyed it suspiciously. “Normal detective? What does that mean?”
Ignoring her question, I asked, “Are you in charge here?”
“I run the camp,” she said crisply. “I’m Nora Jones.”
“Who’s organizing the search parties?” I asked.
“Sheriff Daniels.” She gestured toward the three uniforms by the donuts. Great. I definitely had my work cut out for me. I turned to mutter something to Evan, but somewhere during the conversation, he had slipped away. I should have felt relieved, and I did, but I also felt empty.
Shaking away my feelings, I squared my shoulders and set to work. I had a million questions for Nora Jones, but first, I wanted to know about the search parties. My old boss, Sheriff Adams, would never have put up with such chaos. I suddenly found myself with new appreciation for his skills.
“
Sheriff Daniels?” I asked as I approached the donut table, looking back and forth between the three middle-aged men.
The fat one in the middle looked up. “Yeah?”
“Are you organizing the search parties?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. I wondered if he knew any other words.
“Well, what’s your game plan? How many search parties are there? How do they report back to you? Where are they searching, and how much of the area has been searched?”
Sheriff Daniels blinked a few times. “You here to volunteer?”
I handed him my card. “The girls’ parents hired me to find them.”
He didn’t bother to look at the card. “Now look here, Missy. I’ve got things under control. We don’t need your help.”
I’m sure he meant to get my hackles up by calling me Missy, but I’ve been called far worse. Besides, I had far worse for him. “Now you look here, Sheriff. You and two of your deputies are standing idly by the refreshment table, reinforcing everyone’s worst cop stereotypes, while two girls are missing, possibly dead in the woods somewhere. This place is in chaos, I don’t see any maps of the area, or walkie-talkies, and I’d bet you don’t have a particularly good idea where people have been searching and where they haven’t.”
“Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?” Sheriff Daniels bristled.
“Someone needs to.”
The deputy to Sheriff Daniels’ right stepped slightly in front of him. “All right, let’s all calm down. My name is Jeff.”
“Cassie,” I told him.
“Would you like a donut?” Jeff asked.
“No.”
“Something to drink, maybe?” Jeff insisted.
I glared at him. “Are you even paying attention?”
“Sure I am,” Jeff said, “but you need to calm down. You come in here shouting all kinds of accusations without even knowing what’s going on. We’ve had search parties out in the woods since yesterday morning, and some of us have been up all night.”
Jeff handed me a can of Coke, which I started to take before thinking better of it. “No, thanks.” I glanced around the room, wondering where Evan had gone, and spotted him talking to a morose couple at the other side of the room. “Is that Mr. and Mrs. Webster?”
“Thought you said they hired you,” Sheriff Daniels said with a bit of a sneer. “You lying to me?”
“They hired me through an intermediary,” I said.
“Through a what?” Sheriff Daniels asked. My opinion of his intelligence, already low, slipped another notch.
“Their cousin hired me – the guy talking to them right now.”
Suddenly, there was a loud crash. I whirled back to the table. The last deputy, the one whose name I didn’t know, had fallen against the table, spilling donuts and sodas all over the floor.
“Great job, Hank,” Sheriff Daniels said. “Can’t you even stand still without knocking into something?”
“No problem. I’ll get it clean.” Hank rushed around, scooping the donuts off the floor and tossing them back into the box. I had to jump out of the way to keep him from running into me.
Deciding I would get nothing useful out of the sheriff’s department, I made my way across the room to Evan. He looked up when he saw me, and motioned to the two people standing next to him. “This is Jack and Tracy Webster. Jack, this is Cassie, the one I was telling you about.”
There was absolutely no family resemblance between Evan and Jack, which I suppose isn’t at all unusual for third cousins. Jack was much shorter and stockier than Evan, and his sandy brown hair was beginning to thin at the temples. He had deep, dark circles around his eyes and deep frown lines that would probably become permanent before all this was over. He offered me his hand and I shook it, though there was no warmth and little energy in the gesture.
Tracy, on the other hand, looked a bit like Elena when she’s deep in conversation with the dead. Her brown eyes had a vacant, faraway look and she didn’t seem to see me, not even when her husband offered me his hand. She was short as well, probably only an inch over five feet, and a bit thick around the middle. She had the look of someone who had been a beauty in her youth, but who had succumbed gracelessly to the onslaught of middle age.
“Tracy,” I said.
She did not look at me.
“My wife isn’t feeling well,” Jack said, putting a protective arm around her. “I hate to leave her, but I hate to stay here, too. There’s another search party leaving in a few minutes, and I want to go with it.”
“I was planning to go, too,” Evan told me. “I’ll be more useful out there getting a feel for the land.”
“Can we talk for a minute?” I asked.
Evan gave Jack a nod and followed me until we stood in an alcove a few yards away, where they probably stored chairs most of the time. Right now, all of the chairs and tables were scattered throughout the hall.
He stood close enough that I could smell his minty aftershave, the scent enough to create small stirrings of interest deep within me. At least he didn’t touch me.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“If you couldn’t scry for them, how do you think you’ll find them on foot?”
“I’m going to try a spell for a lost item,” Evan said. “Jack has a few pictures of his daughter wearing a pair of sneakers that she might have been wearing when she disappeared. If I knew the land around here better, I could use astral projection to look for it.”
I bit my lip. “The sheriff is a bit stupid. I don’t think the search has been all that useful.”
Evan darted a glance at the hubbub around the refreshment table. “I know what you mean.” He shifted his satchel. “The skinny one on the right keeps looking at me, too.”
“Jeff?” I looked over at the three. “He seemed a little overeager to please. Kept trying to tempt me with artificial flavors and preservatives.”
“I wish you had a cell phone.” Evan let his brown leather satchel slide from his shoulder and rummaged inside for a minute. Finally, he withdrew a light pink crystal and handed it to me. It looked similar to the one he had given me a few weeks ago, to call for him if I needed help. It had gotten me into serious debt, but it had also saved my life.
“If you get into trouble,” Evan said, “hold this in your fist and think of me.”
“What kind of trouble do you think I’m going to get into? Unless you think the girls were carried off by vampires?” As soon as I said it, I regretted it. Vampires still haunted my subconscious at night when I tried to sleep, but I didn’t want Evan to think that I was still afraid of them. After all, I needed him to see that I could take care of myself.
“You never know. Just keep it close, okay?”
“Okay.” I slipped it into my pocket, hoping I wouldn’t have to use it, but sensible enough not to argue. “Time to go make sense out of chaos.”
6
THE FIRST THING I NEEDED WAS to get a few facts straight, so I headed back to Nora Jones. She didn’t look particularly pleased to see me. She glanced my way, a sour expression on her face, but did not slow her conversation with a voluptuous red-haired woman whose back was to me.
“Mrs. Jones?” I began. “I have a few questions for you about the girls.”
Nora pursed her lips as the other women turned to face me. If her blue eyes weren’t so swollen, they would have been the precise shape and color of Regina’s.
“Ms. Scot,” Nora began.
“Scot?” the redhead interrupted. “Any relation to Edward Scot?”
“Um, he’s my father.” Sort of. At least, he used to be. Not that this woman cared about any of that at the moment.
“Oh, thank God!” The woman turned more fully to me and extended her arm. “I’m Vera Goldstein, Regina’s mom. Edward said he’d try to send help. I guess that’s you?”
“Guess so. I’m Cassie Scot.”
“Cassie?” Vera repeated. “I always thought Edward would go for more grandiose names. Not that I knew him we
ll, but he and I spent a summer together on our great-grandparents’ farm when we were teenagers. They doted on him. Barely tolerated me after they figured out I didn’t have any talents. I don’t think they ever forgave my grandmother for marrying an accountant and having normal children.”
The wave of information almost made me dizzy. When I came up for air, I noticed Nora frowning, deeply.
“Not that you care about all that,” Vera went on, barely taking a breath. She turned to Nora. “This is my cousin. I want her to have full access here. Her family is quite gifted.”
“At what?” Nora asked, somehow looking down her nose at me even though she was at least three inches shorter. If she had hung a sign, she couldn’t have made it clearer that she did not appreciate my presence, but I didn’t sense any sinister intent from her. Not that I’m an empath, of course, but Evan had often told me that I had a good sense for people. In this case my sense was that Nora was worried about what had happened to the girls, and what was going to happen to the camp now that she had lost two of her campers.
So I decided to sidestep her question. “I just need you to bring me up to speed about what’s happening. I don’t have many details.”
Nora looked from Vera to me, as if trying to find a way to get out of talking to me, but in the end she sighed and nodded. Her mask broke somewhat, and I could see the fear and weariness underneath.
“Let’s sit down.” Nora gestured at an empty round table with eight plastic chairs strewn about.
Once the three of us were seated, Nora took a deep breath and began. “The girls are cabin mates. We assign seven girls to a cabin along with one counselor, usually a college student. They were there at lights out Monday night – every girl in the cabin said so – but yesterday morning, they were gone. At first, everyone assumed they went to the bath house. But they got worried when they didn’t come to the mess for breakfast.”
Secrets and Lies (Cassie Scot) Page 7