Casters Series Box Set

by Norah Wilson

  “Be quick about it,” Brooke commanded. “She doesn’t just need it to lie down. She needs it for the energy she can draw from it.”

  “I’m gone,” he said. And seconds later, he was. She heard him descend the stairs, open and close a door—presumably to the basement.

  Brooke turned to Maryanne. “Okay, you can take that look right off your face.”

  Maryanne tilted her head.

  “Okay, so I can’t see your face, but I know what look you’re wearing after hearing that sob story.”

  Maryanne drew herself up, indignation in every line.

  “Yeah, yeah, I was eavesdropping. So sue me. The point is, I’m not ready to trust Bryce Walker. And you know why? Because in his spare time, he devises tools with which to torture casters.”

  Maryanne shook her head vigorously.

  “It’s true! There are drawings on his desk. And another collar. A much worse collar, designed not just to tether a Heller but to torture her.”

  Maryanne shook her head again.

  “Yeah, okay, he didn’t actually use that stuff. I’ll give him points for that. But frankly, Maryanne, it’s going to take more than a few tears and an apology to make me trust him. Just so you know, I’m gonna keep my eye on him. Nobody collars a sister of mine like a damned dog and gets to take a free pass.”

  Maryanne extended her hand and Brooke took it, blinking tears away. Maryanne was clearly trying to say she was touched. Appreciative.

  “Good. I’m glad we understand each other. Now, it’s gonna take that boy a while to strip the copper out of that electrical wiring, so let’s get you repositioned so we can both rest.”

  Maryanne floated up so Brooke could gather up the copper. Brooke then settled herself on the big old bed with her back against the antique headboard. She made herself comfortable by propping the pillows around her. Then she spread her thighs and positioned the copper on the bed between them. “Put your butt on that and rest your back against me.”

  Maryanne did as Brooke commanded. Brooke accepted the weird press of Maryanne’s cast against her own flesh with just the slightest of tremors. Touching a caster when in fused form was still freaky, but before long, Brooke relaxed. Maryanne must have relaxed too, for her legs disappeared into the bed. Brooke giggled at that, and from the way Maryanne’s cast shook, she figured Maryanne was laughing too. But within a minute, her form went lax. Good. She was sleeping, or whatever the caster equivalent was.

  Brooke sure as hell wasn’t going to sleep, though. Not any time soon. Not the way her mind was racing. There was just too much to think about.

  Like how Maryanne’s original was making out back in the attic. She’d called Alex a couple times, but she wouldn’t be satisfied until she actually saw Maryanne for herself.

  And how was she going to fare when her cast reunited with her original tonight? Would the trauma the cast had suffered be too much?

  And about Bryce blaming himself alone for his brother’s death… she had that to think over too.

  And last but not least, what the hell had Alex been talking about when she shouted to Maryanne about having survived rape? Brooke knew for a fact that C.W.’s attack on Alex—the attack that left her in a coma—had been interrupted before he could molest her that way. So when was she raped? Back in Halifax, over the summer? That could be it. She’d certainly been a different girl right from day one this year…

  As she pondered the possibilities and wondered if or when Alex would share her story, Brooke fell asleep cradling Maryanne’s cast.

  Chapter 41

  Look up

  Maryanne

  It was almost midnight, and Maryanne had never been so glad to see Harvell House as she was at that moment. Bryce had parked the truck as close to the house as he dared. Not so close that anyone peering out the windows of the residence would see them, but close enough to make Maryanne’s flight against the snow’s backdrop as short—and risk-free—as possible. It was a bright night, even without caster vision, she imagined. Probably a crisp night, too, though she couldn’t say for certain. And though most of the driveways they’d passed had been shoveled out, it was still abundantly obvious that this had been a heck of a stormy day. More so for some than others.

  It hurt to chuckle. Maryanne chuckled anyway.

  And that felt pretty good.

  Brooke must have felt her shoulders shake against her.

  “What?” Brooke asked. “Oh right…you can’t tell me.”

  Maryanne had been sitting on Brooke’s lap all the way from the Walker Farm. Otherwise, her caster form would have passed right through the truck seat. Now, as Bryce came around and opened the door for them, her friend released her grip on her. Yet again today.

  What a strange afternoon it had been. Okay, that was probably the understatement of the century. On top of her ordeal by fire, she’d never spent so much time in dual consciousness. It had been totally draining. Especially with both Alex and Brooke in mothering mode. She’d appreciated Alex’s impromptu medical attention of her original back in the attic, as much as Brooke’s protective watching over her caster self and making sure she was comfortable—and safe—back at the Walker place. But wow, she was exhausted! The whole thing gave her a new respect for Connie. Maryanne had been out of her body for a day. Poor Connie had been shut out for decades.

  It was going to hurt like hell when she re-fused. She knew it. Yet she was looking forward to that snap of cast back into body.

  Oh, and then there was tomorrow—and Betts—to be faced. Alex had told the house mother that the three of them had seized on the snow day to drive to Fredericton to do a little shopping, and that Brooke and Maryanne had decided to stay there and take the bus back the next day. Betts had been livid, but the lie had stopped the old girl from looking around for them when they missed lunch. Equally important, it would allow them to miss half a morning of school tomorrow, so they could recuperate a little. They’d all get slapped with a demerit slip, but Maryanne could live with it.

  There were worse fates.

  “Coast clear?” Brooke asked.

  Bryce nodded. “As far as I can tell.”

  “As good a time as any?” Brooke asked, looking at Maryanne.

  Maryanne nodded. Yeah, it was time. Now all she had to do was soar along and into the window at the back of Harvell House without being spotted. It was late, and only two lights burned in the house, one on the front porch and one in the ever-vigilant Kassidy’s room. Kassidy’s new room at the front of the house. Thank God Betts had moved her. No one was walking on the street and they’d not seen another motorist since they’d left the highway, but the ground was still covered with the white stuff. If anyone happened to be looking this way, they couldn’t miss her. She’d just have to go as fast as she could.

  Maryanne pointed toward the house to show her intention to go now. As she pulled farther away from Brooke. Bryce stepped out of the way so she could leave the truck’s concealment.

  “Okay,” Brooke breathed. “Straight to the house.”

  Maryanne nodded, anxious to get going now. To get this over with.

  “Brooke, are you sure you don’t want to…er, cast…” Bryce paused on the word, still not used to the girls’ terminology, “…with Maryanne? Go into the house, then out again to help her—”

  “I’m sure. She says she can do this.”

  Maryanne squeezed Brooke’s hand and gave Bryce a reassuring nod. Then she slipped her copper bracelet off and handed it to Brooke. She held on a second longer than necessary to make sure Brooke understood the significance.

  “Oh, right!” Brooke said. “This would not be the time to pull a Brooke.”

  Maryanne laughed, though no one could hear her. She was pleased and a little surprised that Brooke was secure enough now to joke about that incident. Specifically, Brooke had almost broken the window and screwed them all the time she’d tried to cast back in while still wearing a copper bracelet. Fortunately, the glass had held and her arm had just bounce
d back from it.

  “Pull a Brooke?” Bryce asked.

  “Never mind,” Brooke said, sending him a dark scowl. “Inside joke,” she continued, her voice brittle. “And people who sit around designing spiked collars to torture or kill my friends with don’t qualify.”

  Bryce pulled his head back as though struck by a sucker punch he hadn’t seen coming.

  “Brooke!” Maryanne hissed. Then, realizing she couldn’t hear that, she gave Brooke’s arm a smack.

  “What?” Brooke said. “It’s the truth.”

  “I didn’t use it,” Bryce protested. “I never intended to. It was—”

  Maryanne touched him on the arm, halting his defense. She put her other hand on Brooke’s arm.

  Brooke sniffed. “Okay, we get it. This is not the time. We’ll play nice for now, won’t we, Bryce?”

  The look she sent him was far from friendly, nor was Bryce’s return glare, but he nodded in curt agreement.

  “Definitely not the time or place. Maryanne needs to get back in there so she can rest.”

  “On that we agree.”

  Maryanne released the two of them. They didn’t go straight for each other’s throats again, which she took as a good sign. With an exasperated sigh—one she wished they could both hear—she took off, soaring in the silent night.

  Yes, silent.

  She hadn’t heard Jason’s voice since the fire, and that was bittersweet.

  Maryanne was sluggish. She knew it as she moved toward the house, but no lights snapped on around her. No one called out. She moved up toward the window and then she tapped on the glass and spoke the heartfelt words like she never had before:

  I want in!

  And oh, thank God, she was.

  Alex must have been watching for her in the small, wiped-clean window that faced the front of the house—the same one Alex had taken that ill-fated trip through to test what happened to a caster who passed through a second pane of glass—because she was holding on tightly to Maryanne’s original in front of the window. When Maryanne shot back in, the impact of the reunion didn’t shoot her across the attic like it would have if Alex hadn’t been anchoring her body. As it was, they only plowed a few feet back, and Alex took the brunt of it as they came to a stop against Connie’s old dresser. The pain hit Maryanne then, but so too did the relief. She sucked down a lungful of air and suppressed a moan.

  “That’s right, breathe,” Alex coached. “Take a big, deep breath, hold it, then let it out. Then do it again.”

  Maryanne complied, but everything still hurt like hell.

  “Really focus on your breathing. Breathe in, hold for three beats, breathe out.”

  Surprisingly, once she focused on her breathing, the pain receded.

  “Hey, that actually works,” Maryanne said, her voice sounding as scratchy as her throat felt.

  Alex was still holding her as Maryanne put a hand to the loose bandage around her throat. Ow! Ow! Ow!

  “You’ve got some blistering on one side of your neck,” Alex said by way of explanation. “Everything I’ve heard said not to put any goopy ointment on it, so I didn’t. I just put some non-stick sterile gauze on it then wrapped it loosely with more gauze.” Alex bit her lip. “Maybe we should take you to the hospital now that…”

  “Now that I’m not in a catatonic state, you mean?” Maryanne smiled. “I’m fine.”

  Neither of them startled as the attic door opened below. Brooke's footfalls on the steps were all but silent. Then she was standing there in the attic with them.

  “She okay?” Brooke asked anxiously.

  “She has a burn on her neck,” Alex announced.

  “Of course! From that damned collar! Is it bad?”

  “Anyone got a mirror?” Maryanne asked.

  Brooke dug a compact out of her purse. Maryanne loosened the bandage and moved it aside. The others gasped, but Maryanne sighed in relief. Mostly first degree burns. Yes, there was some blistering—second degree burns for sure—but the blistered area was relatively small compared to the total burn. And she’d been like this all day without her throat swelling closed. That was the biggest risk of a neck burn.

  “So?” Brooke prompted, handing Maryanne some Ibuprofen she must have dug out of her purse. “What’s the verdict?”

  “It’ll be fine for tonight, but tomorrow when we’re supposed to be in Fredericton, maybe we should go to the ER.” Maryanne tossed the two extra-strength Ibuprofen back and swallowed them dry. “They have special burn dressings they can put on it to make sure it heals as well as possible.” It would also take the pain away, but she didn’t bother mentioning that, or they’d insist on taking her right now.

  “Good idea,” Alex said, moving to help Maryanne ease the sterile gauze bandage back in place. “But how are we going to explain it?”

  “Duh. Curling iron accident.” Brooke sat down on the floor with them.

  And that’s when exhaustion overtook Maryanne. She was suddenly sleepy, and knew she would sleep despite the constant pain of the burn. Really sleep, as she hadn’t in months.

  “Bedtime,” she said, her voice a weirdly hoarse whisper as she pushed out those two syllables. Yikes, she hoped she’d be speaking at least half normally by tomorrow. Her mind flashed to Martha Betts—Maryanne would have some explaining to do. Especially if Betts got a glimpse of a burn bandage around her neck. Note to self: be sure to take a scarf with you…

  Then her mind flashed elsewhere, to a call she needed to make. She started to stand, already swiveling toward the stairs.

  “Can’t go down there,” Alex said. “If Betts finds you two home and you’re supposed to be coming up on the bus tomorrow—”

  Crap. Alex was right. It wasn’t worth sneaking down there and rummaging around for her cell phone. She’d waited this long to return her parents’ frantic calls. She could wait another few hours. “You’re right.”

  Alex stood, and Maryanne watched her go straight to the wardrobe and open one of its doors. Though Alex hadn’t left her side all day for more than a few minutes at a time as she lay paralyzed by the window, Maryanne had heard her rummaging around back here that afternoon. Alex turned with a grin, and started firing the pillows and rolled-up sleeping bags their way.

  One of the pillows hit Brooke. “Bitch!” she whispered, throwing it back.

  Alex responded with a barrage of pillows.

  The two were laughing, not loudly, but oh wow, with abandon. And it felt great. Maryanne smiled.

  Alex and Brooke unrolled the three bags and set the pillows in place. Brooke claimed the one closest to the steps and Alex zipped into the one on the other side, leaving the center one for Maryanne. Alex of course didn’t have to sleep up here—she wasn’t on Betts’s AWOL list—but no one was about to point that out.

  As exhausted as Maryanne was, she didn’t immediately crawl into her sleeping bag. Instead she walked, slowly and carefully, toward the window. She stood in the moonlight gazing up at the stained glass. And as always, her eyes were drawn to the little one in the Madonna’s arms. She’d never before noticed the peace there on that baby’s face. And had not felt it within herself in a very, very long time.

  “Thank you.” She whispered now, not because of her raw sore throat nor out of concern that Alex or Brooke would overhear her. Maryanne whispered because the moment was just between her and her brother. “Thank you, my little J-bug. I…I can do it now. I can go on. Build on that.”

  She turned and walked back to her friends. That sleeping bag looked so freakin’ welcoming. She was beyond tired. Alex unzipped the bag and Brooke adjusted her pillow as Maryanne tucked inside.

  For the first time since Jason died, she closed her eyes in peace.

  Chapter 42

  River Rising

  Maryanne

  Maryanne appreciated Brooke and Alex’s discretion as they said goodbye to her parents and made a hasty exit.

  It was the first of April, an early spring, and her friends were going for a walk al
ong the river, they said. The ice was melting, the river was rising, and it really was a sight to see with the power of the Saint John River moving everything along so swiftly. But Maryanne knew they were vacating so that she could have this much-needed time alone with her parents.

  Kelly and Skip Hemlock had arrived within twenty four hours of Maryanne placing a call and asking them to come. She’d been back in full communication with them since the fire, but now she really wanted to see them. She had something to tell them. It had to be now. This couldn’t wait the few weeks till graduation. So her parents had packed up the car, including two pecan pies, and driven all night to arrive that morning. They’d arrived concerned, tired, and so anxious to see their daughter that they’d gone straight to the school and hauled her out of math class. The look on McKenzie’s face when he’d seen Maryanne’s six-foot five father knocking on his classroom door and announcing who he was had been priceless. After the preliminary crushing hugs and assurances that Maryanne was okay, her parents had headed to a nearby hotel and caught some much-needed sleep. Then they’d picked Maryanne and both her friends up and taken them out to dinner at Mansbridge’s finest restaurant, after which they’d driven them all back to Harvell House. That’s when Alex and Brooke had split.

  Now came the hard part.

  “You can do this,” Alex had told her early yesterday morning. And it had been with both Alex and Brooke at her side that she’d called her parents and asked them to come. Her friends weren’t here with her now, though. They couldn’t be.

  Maryanne was nervous. Absolutely sick with the feeling of what she had to say, but this was the very last step.

  “It’s so good to see you,” her mother said once again, as if she couldn’t get enough. She hugged her one more time before she sat down on the lone chair in the room, over by Brooke’s bed. She’d come wearing jeans, casual and easy, though she had probably been in one of her power-suits when Maryanne had called her. She knew it would have taken no easy amount of juggling for her mom to have cleared her schedule to come down to New Brunswick on such short notice.