by Ashley Meira
“I thought….” I started slowly, unsure I should go down this road. He was already bothered. Might as well go all the way, right? The less selfish part of me chimed in, saying that I would make things worse. Too bad I was a selfish person. “I thought you wanted to let me in. That we were supposed to tell each other things about our lives. I told you everything I know about my past—”
“Yeah,” he said sharply, still looking away. “Eight years worth of memories. Haven’t I given you an equal amount already? Get off my case. I didn’t annoy you into giving up all the secrets you were keeping from me, did I?”
I wanted to point out that he kind of had pushed the issue, but the rest of his words had speared through my heart. Get off my case. Annoy. I was pretty good at being a pain in people’s asses when I wanted to be, but I didn’t want to this time, and I couldn’t recall a time where I’d felt like more of a burden. Or a time I’d been more hurt by someone’s words.
I was too mad to apologize and too hurt to say anything else. With my mission failed, I slunk back to my seat, and we continued our trip in silence.
If it had been dark when we left Quincy Fields, it was positively pitch black when we arrived in Amatovci. Charlotte’s home was easy to find. She lived farther away from the other villages, her home a veritable cottage in the woods. If the interior proportions matched the exterior, I imagined this place could hold a family of three or four quite well.
Despite its somewhat isolated locale, I found the home absolutely darling. Unlike the out-of-the-way huts Fiona and I had huddled in, this one was surrounded by lush greenery and pretty flowers. I shined my lightstone ring over them, noting the mishmash of colorful plant life. I wasn’t an expert, but I’m pretty sure these plants were only growing together because an earth mage had put them here. She might not be a fighter, but Charlotte knew how to use her magic.
The thought of a young girl using her magic to grow flowers made my heart quiver. I wanted her to be okay. The lights were off, but I clung to the tiny bit of hope that she was inside and merely sleeping. I edged closer to the door, my eyes wandering over the vines creeping up the cream colored walls. Little pink buds peeked out from them, in mid-bloom despite the winter. She must have put a lot of magic in this place to keep them alive despite her absence. How long would they live without her?
I shook the dark thought from my head and knocked on her door. Nothing. I tried a few more times, but after fifteen minutes, it became clear we wouldn’t get an answer.
“He offers us use of the home but doesn’t provide a spare key,” Adam muttered to the empty road behind us.
I wasn’t sure which he was more upset about, or why he didn’t ask me to pick the lock. I’d planned on it either way, but he usually asked. Guess he really didn’t want to speak to me. With that idea weighing me down, I knelt and began working on her lock. I guess there wasn’t much crime in a village with less than a hundred people, because her lock popped open in a few seconds. We stepped inside, and after some fumbling, I located the light switch.
Charlotte’s home was definitely lived in and was as cozy on the inside as outside. The living room greeted us, decked out with a pair of comfy looking sofas pointed toward a television. DVDs were littered around, taking up most of the television stand’s surface and the coffee table separating it from the couches. A wide archway in the back led into the kitchen, the soft white tiles brightening up the wooden counters and small, round dining table. By the archway was a closed door and opposite that door was a staircase leading upstairs.
Everything was decorated in cream and beige, with the occasional splash of bright blue or pink for contrast. It was young, earthy, and feminine all mixed into one. And pleasing to the eye in general. I liked her taste, but not the lack of magic flowing around the room. She hadn’t been here in a while.
Still, I could pick up traces of magic. The smell of fresh flowers greeted my nose and the taste of strawberries burst on my tongue. This must have been her magic, because it was all over the place. I focused on it, following the trail as far as I could.
My heart clenched as the trail cut off. Magic always pooled when someone, or something, stopped at a location. The energy lingered around its place of rest. Inhibitor bangles were the exception to the rule. If someone had a bangle placed on them, the magic would cut off immediately. But unless the Inquisitor using the bangle swooped in and grabbed their target immediately, their magic would still gather, if only marginally. Unfortunately, in my special and completely unwanted case, there was another option.
Fireborns.
From what I’d gathered, at least some Fireborns were capable of hiding their magic from trackers. Both Adam and Damien had been unable to track the Heart of Gaia, so they’d hired me to find it. It had been stolen by Cyrus, some punk earth mage hired by Nicholas, and delivered to Diana, his agent and my newly discovered twin sister. I wasn’t sure whether they’d been unable to track anything because of Diana or because of the Heart itself, but I’d had a dream of Nicholas saying he could train us to hide our magic so that even Inquisitors — the Council’s most powerful trackers — couldn’t find us.
Regardless of which it was, tracking a Fireborn was a game of cat and mouse. For me, anyway. The trail snapped off halfway, and I had to go to its last sensed location to find a new one. If I could find a new one. I shook my head and let out a weary sigh, sick of not knowing anything about my heritage. Even all of that was conjecture. Maybe I’d only been able to track Diana and the Heart because she was my twin. I had no idea.
But I did know one thing. Charlotte’s magic cut off almost exactly the way Heart’s had.
“Is she Fireborn?” I asked, not bothering to soften my phrasing. We weren’t in that place right now.
“No,” Adam said immediately. Then, he paused and furrowed his brows. “No. Her mother wasn’t magical.”
“What about her father?”
“He’s not Fireborn.”
I wanted to ask if he was sure, but I got the feeling he’d just snap at me. Could Nicholas be involved with this? What were the odds I’d run into him here? I sighed again. About the same as stumbling across his plot on the Pyrenees or even in Santa Fae. If this was the universe’s idea of matchmaking, it needed to find a new line of work.
Maybe it was the artifact Charlotte said she found. It wouldn’t be the first time an unknown piece of history screwed me over. I just hoped there were no golems this time. Sure, I had magic to destroy them with now, but my arm still tingled at the memory of stabbing through an army of solid rock.
I pulled a map from my bag and set it on the coffee table, pushing Charlotte’s copy of Mean Girls aside as I did so. I didn’t have much experience with Croatia, but if this map was accurate — and it damn well better be since the Council approved it — then her magic tapered off near….
My brows shot up, and I tapped at the map with a suspicious finger. “There.”
Adam leaned over, and I basked in his presence. Though we’d sat in the car for almost two hours, it felt like ages since he’d been near me. “The woods?”
“No. Well, yes,” I said, sliding my finger an inch to the left, then to the right. “The small piece of woods between Goliki and Plitvice Lakes National Park. And here I thought we wouldn’t get to do any sightseeing.”
He ignored my attempt at humor. “Ollie’s parents live in Goliki, don’t they?”
“Yep. If Ollie’s mom is as nosy—” I pursed my lips “—on top of things as he claims, she might know something. Goliki doesn’t appear to be much bigger than this place, so outsiders are probably going to be remembered. I’ll call Ollie and ask him to get in touch. I don’t want to show up unannounced.”
He nodded and checked his watch. “We’ll set off tomorrow. It’s too late to go now, announced or otherwise.”
Tilting my head, I saw his watch read 1:30 AM. Way too late for a visit. The nearest airfield was almost two hours away. It’d be nearly morning by the time we got back. Since Goliki
was probably no more than thirty minutes away from there, we could sleep in the plane and take off whenever we woke up tomorrow.
“Let’s go back to the airfield?” I asked.
Finally, after nearly two hours, he looked at me. A month ago, I’d have found his bright gray eyes unreadable. Today, I could tell he was thinking carefully and… concerned? I wasn’t sure. My system wasn’t perfect, especially not now.
“No,” he finally said. “We can stay here for tonight.”
“I thought you didn’t want to stay here,” I said, trying to figure out exactly what was up with him.
“I don’t,” he said. “But it’s two hours back to the airfield, and I can see how tired you are. You need rest.”
He didn’t want to be here, but he was willing to stay so I wouldn’t have to suffer the trip back. His concern was touching but ultimately defeated by the displeased expression on his face. It might have been his suggestion, but I couldn’t help feeling he would resent me for having us stay here, if he didn’t already.
“So do you. I’m not some delicate flower, and I sure as hell don’t need you getting even more pissed at me because we have to stay here.” Guilt nudged my chest, but I ignored it. My frustration over the day’s events, coupled with my exhaustion, had snapped the last strands of my patience. Besides, he had no problem giving me a piece of his mind. Why should I?
“I don’t know what’s going on, Adam, and you clearly don’t want to tell me. But stop acting like I have the plague or this is all my fault. If you’re going to act like this the entire trip, then you shouldn’t have come. Take the jet back to Santa Fae and let me do my job.”
With that, I spun on my heel and stomped up the stairs. I forced myself not to listen for his footsteps as I walked down the hall. There were four doors, and I looked through each one. The first door was a bathroom and right next to it was a bedroom. For guests, if the lack of personal items was any indication.
The next two doors were an office and Charlotte’s bedroom. I left them alone and went back to the second door. My bag had a change of clothes and anything else I might need for a night or two, but I’d left it downstairs, and the lack of footsteps or doors slamming told me Adam was still here.
I didn’t regret the words I’d said, but I could have been nicer about it. He had come all the way out here to support me. I think. He could have come for Charlotte, but he didn’t seem to like her very much. At first, I thought it was just an issue with his father, but the lingering malaise he held told me there was more going on.
Before I could decide whether to stay up here and hold onto my resentment or be a better person and go back downstairs, the front door slammed shut. I counted to three before rushing downstairs.
Adam was gone.
Chapter Eight
Charlotte wasn’t a heavy drinker, which sucked, because I was looking to take up the vocation. A look through her kitchen revealed a single bottle of chocolate flavored vodka that I left alone. The urge to tidy her home hit me as I tried to think of ways to occupy my mind so it wouldn’t think of Adam abandoning me, but despair weighed me down and all I did was curl up on the couch in the fetal position. I stared at the pair of bags near the table, his and mine.
He’d left, and he’d been so upset that he forgot his bag. I wanted to be mad. I wanted to resent him for pulling such a dick move. But I’d told him to leave. This was all my fault. I’d spent the last eight years avoiding romantic relationships. Turns out I didn’t need to. I couldn’t hold onto one, anyway.
These days, I went to Adam when I was feeling bad, so it was hard to think of other ways I self-soothed. Killing things wasn’t a viable option at the moment, and I didn’t notice any bars on our way through the village. I went back into the kitchen and rummaged around the freezer. Whoever Charlotte was, she had good taste in ice cream.
The hole in my heart was still gaping when my spoon hit the bottom of the huge tub of chocolate ice cream, so I decided to throw my troubles onto other people. It was nighttime in Santa Fae now, and Ollie answered his communication charm instantly, which took me off guard since he almost always forgot the silver necklace at home.
“Are you okay?” he asked immediately.
I wasn’t, but not for the reason he was expecting. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him what really happened, so I said, “Just wanted to talk a bit. Is everyone there?”
“Yup. Skype?”
Yes, even us magical folk used Skype. Communication charms were super convenient since you could call anyone who had a connected charm from almost anywhere in the world, but they were only good for one-on-one communication. Adding group capabilities required more spell work, which meant a higher price tag. Most people didn’t bother making that investment, especially since they had phones. I wasn’t about to call long distance, though, so Skype came to the rescue.
“Sure.” I reached for my phone and frowned at the lack of bars in the corner. Right. Why wasn’t there a spell for conjuring wi-fi? “I’ll call in a bit, okay? I need to get a connection.”
“Sure.”
We said our goodbyes as I hurried to Charlotte’s office. She had a computer in there, and I was pretty sure I saw a router. A quick look around confirmed my theory. The aptly named “Charlotte’s Wi-Fi” was the only choice of connection — guess people in Amatovci amused themselves in other ways — but it was password locked. So much for trust in small towns.
I tried her computer, but that needed a password, too. If I couldn’t connect to the wi-fi, I’d still be able to talk to my friends, but I really wanted the support of a group right now. I looked around the office, hoping the mountain of notebooks stuffed into every corner meant she’d made a note about her password.
Sifting through her desk didn’t reveal any passwords, but it did uncover a locked drawer. Letting my darker half take hold, I picked the lock, confused over my discovery: a beige folder that had seen better days.
I took a seat at her desk and laid the contents out across her keyboard. They were children’s drawings. Not very good ones, even compared to the usual mess kids drew. I looked through them, finding pictures of cars, dinosaurs, dragons, and superheroes. Or at least that’s what I thought they were. I hope Charlotte never dreamed of becoming an artist, because she had no talent whatsoever.
The final drawing caught my attention the most, and I picked it up for a closer look. It was Charlotte with her family in front of a castle. Disneyland, maybe? I couldn’t tell anything about the people besides their hair color. The small brunette wearing a crown in the middle was probably Charlotte. She was standing next to what appeared to be her younger sibling, who was blond — and possibly just a blob of peach crayon. High school must’ve been rough. A blonde with lipstick and a brunette with a tie were on either side of them. Their mother and father, I assumed.
Well, that was interesting, but not particularly helpful. Unless the password was “Disneyland.” I typed it in to make sure but no dice. Sighing, I flipped the page around to give it a once over, and what I saw made my eyes widen to the point where I thought they might pop out of their sockets. Adam Pierce — 12/05/1990.
I looked back over the drawings. Each of them were signed by Adam. These were his from when he was a child. Damien had been right about his terrible art skills. But why did Charlotte have these? And why were they in a locked drawer? Stunned but too drained to process much, I gathered the papers together and put them back into the folder. As I did so, my fingers glanced against something small.
Frowning, I peered at the small white triangle peeking out from under the keyboard. A satisfied smile took over my face as I pulled it out and saw it was a business card with the words “Wi-Fi: Daisies” scrawled across the back. I put the folder back and entered the password. Success!
I stood, ready to exit when a picture frame on the bookcase caught my attention. My eyes widened at the image, and I grabbed the picture for a closer look.
The girl in the photo was wearing a necklace that looke
d exactly like the one Mr. Pierce had given us, so I assumed this was a picture of Charlotte. Which was, in hindsight, probably something Mr. Pierce should have given us himself. I supposed he didn’t feel the need since we’d be coming here.
I took in her wide smile as she looked at the camera, her almond-shaped brown eyes full of mirth. Her brown hair was cut in a simple bob that framed her heart-shaped face. There was a scar along her neck, reaching up the side of her face to her lower lip. I wondered how she got a nasty mark like that? She was wearing graduation robes and holding a diploma, but I couldn’t make out what it was for. But that wasn’t what had captured my attention. It was the man next to her.
Clad in a navy blue suit, with his arm wrapped around the smiling girl’s shoulders, was Liam Pierce. He was looking down at Charlotte and smiling. Not very wide, but enough that you could tell he was genuinely happy. What really surprised me, however, was the pride in his eyes as he looked down at her.
With the gears in my mind turning, I placed the picture back where it had been.
“What took you so long?” Fiona demanded.
“Your stupid face is taking up my entire screen.” I was sitting with my back against the headboard of the guest room’s bed, trying to give Fiona the most scathing look I could muster. Considering my mental state, it wasn’t very good. “Give Ollie back the phone.”
“It’s his laptop,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And your stupid face is taking up the entire screen. Which is worse because this screen is bigger.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, because I’m the only one on this side.”
Her expression sobered. “You didn’t kill Adam and his father, did you?”