Switch of Fate 2

by Grace Quillen

  They were still on edge, both of them, had been silent on the drive out. Flint kept thinking someone was following them, but every time he turned around he saw nothing. No birds in the air, either. It was dusk and Flint hadn’t even seen a bat. Goldie hadn’t reacted, so he knew it wasn’t a vampire. She’d seemed deep in thought the whole ride.

  The waiter seated them and said he’d bring them both the special, since that was all that was on the menu, leaving them alone.

  Flint took a stab at a subject. “Cora is going to want to know how you did that bubble thing. I didn’t even dent it.”

  “I don’t really know how I could teach her, I mean, I don’t even know what I did.” Goldie gave Flint a tentative smile. “I can’t join your Cause, Flint. I have a job, a-”

  Flint cut her off, not able to help it. “Leave your options open, Goldie, please. I know killing vampires doesn’t mean anything to you, you don’t even know why you feel like you do when one gets close.” He tried not to beg. But he didn’t know how Goldie could deny who she was like this. Time, she just needed time, like Cora said, and he could give it to her.

  He tried again. “You would like living at Resperanza. Cora lives there. You two could hang out, talk about it whenever-”

  Goldie cut him off, looking more anxious by the second. “Darby needs me.” She waited a beat, then blurted more like she was spilling it. “She’s got a stalker.”

  “Bryce is right next door. She’s not your responsibility.”

  Goldie flinched, her eyes avoiding Flint’s by seeming to bore into the tabletop between them. Her scent had gone thin and scarce, like she was scared and pulling it back for protection. “I have a brand new job. I can’t mess that up.” She seemed to be trying to convince herself, even after what had just happened.

  Flint had no choice but to be harshly honest. He hadn’t tried that yet. “You’re a switch, Goldie. You’d run out on those kids for the chance to stick a vampire and not look back.”

  Goldie’s head shot up and she looked right in his eyes, her tone low. “I would never do that.”

  Flint shook his head. “I’m telling you, you would. You don’t have a choice about what you are.”

  Goldie slammed one flat palm on the table, surprising him. “Don’t you tell me I don’t have choices. I kept that crazy green crap on lockdown for twelve years.”

  When Flint could speak, his voice was measured and calm. “What happened to you?”

  She pulled in on herself. “Not vampires,” she said grudgingly. “But I wish it had been.” She stared at the table again, her eyes shimmering, and he realized that she was dangerously close to tears. She spoke, and her voice was dead. “I killed my parents.”

  Flint’s heart wrenched in his chest. Twelve years ago, she would have been fifteen. Could that possibly be true?

  “Goldie, what are you talking about?”

  One tear spilled down her cheek. She wiped the rest away. “It was during Hurricane Katrina. There’s a whole story here, you sure you want to hear it?”

  Flint nodded sharply. Of course he did.

  She looked haunted. Her heady scent cooled and drifted. She spoke, visibly forcing herself to do so. “I’ve never told anyone this, so… go easy, okay?”

  He nodded. Of course he would.

  “I was fifteen. I begged Mama and Daddy to evacuate like we were supposed to, or at least take us to Tallulah’s, but they never took any of it seriously. It had been raining for hours. Mama and Daddy started drinking, which meant they started fighting. Usually Darby and I could just ignore it but that night Daddy was on a tear, accusing Mama of all kinds of ridiculous stuff. Then he started waving his gun around.” She curled in on herself a little bit. “He said he just wanted everyone to listen.”

  Darby was her sister! That explained so much, but Flint’s heart sank. He could see where this was going.

  “I had to get us out of there, so we snuck out to our special spot on the roof of the apartment building, this little iron cage that might have held carrier pigeons in the past.”

  “In a hurricane?”

  Goldie picked at her fingernails. “It was safer than with Daddy. But when the winds picked up, we couldn’t get down.”

  She clasped her hands together, wringing them. “This is where it gets… well, I guess you won’t think it’s weird. I remember holding on so tight to the wrought iron, and being so angry at my father. He was always getting drunk, always yelling, had been violent, all of it. I remember wishing that he would just… die. Him and Mama both, if she wanted him so much more than she did us.”

  She stopped wringing her hands and went perfectly still. Flint wanted to comfort her but wasn’t sure how. Her voice was limp as she said, “The whole night turned green.” She looked him in the eye, then. “Just like it has every time you‘ve told me I glowed.” She lifted one hand and turned it over, looking at it hard. “I can see the glow, you know, if I try hard enough. I wasn’t glowing that night. It was just my… my vision. A tint added to the night.”

  She swallowed hard. “Dark turned green and then I heard a gunshot. Then it flared greener, brighter, and I heard another. A few seconds later it just… winked off.”

  Flint thought he was gaping. He hadn’t expected that.

  “He shot Mama, then himself. The hurricane was still hitting hard, so we stayed with a neighbor. Then the levees broke. Mid-City flooded. Shoot, almost everywhere flooded. Everyone who’d stayed was scrambling to survive, there were no phones working, nothing. Tallulah’s driver finally borrowed a boat and he took us to stay with her, then live with her, once she found out what her son had done.”

  Goldie threw Flint a twisted smile that hurt him. “Except she was wrong, wasn’t she? I killed them both.”

  No. Shit. He understood her reluctance now. All of it. And he’d taken her to see Carick, without warning her. “Pumpkin, no-”

  Goldie’s face fell. “That’s why I trusted you that first night. Because you called me pumpkin. That’s what my mom called me. I thought, well, I didn’t think it was a sign, but maybe I wanted it to be.”

  Flint nodded. Maybe it had been. He didn’t know why he had said it. “Darby is your sister,” he said quietly.

  Her eyes snapped wide. “Flint, I didn’t mean to- I’m scared that her stalker is following us. You can’t tell anyone.”

  “Look,” he said, hating the fear in her eyes. “I’ve got friends on the police force in Five Hills-” But he stopped at Goldie’s shaking head.

  “I don’t know who he is, but he’s delusional and dangerous. You should read the letters he sends, the things he thinks about Darby.”

  “Does she have magic, too?”

  Goldie’s face expressed several different emotions, all too quickly, but her scent was more subtle, more nuanced. It said she’d never even considered that her sister could be a switch, too. But it made obvious sense to Flint.

  Goldie stood up abruptly, almost tipping the chair over behind her. “I want to go home. Please take me home.”

  Crap, here he was, fucking it up again. And now her scent was tight, acrid, like those bright green herbs had been left on a grill to burn away to ash along with any trust he’d thought she had in him. She thought this meant he was going to tell everyone they were sisters.

  And he was. Wasn’t he?

  Chapter 19 - Girl Fight

  Goldie smiled at Lucas, her last client of the day. Thank goodness for that. I am so overdone I feel like beef jerky. Goldie adored her job, but the almost-two days since she had spewed her secrets all over Flint had been some of the most anxious of her life. She still hadn’t decided what to do. She was indecisive by nature, so that didn’t surprise her, but it did distress her. Make a decision, she scolded herself, then she scolded herself again. Not the time for any of it, Goldie. Pay attention to your client.

  It was hard to think of the eight-year-old with the giant brown eyes and perpetually mussed golden brown hair as a client, but that’s who he was. It was W
ednesday, the end of her third day as a county school system speech therapist, and Goldie and Lucas had just finished playing with the little plastic Minecraft figures she had brought along. The exercise had been a huge success in Goldie’s book. Lucas’s eyes had lit up - he’d even laughed! - while he moved the figures around and made animal noises for the sheep and pigs, a hiss and explosion for the monster called a Creeper.

  Lucas was a sweet boy with struggles too big for a second grader. Goldie’s supervisor said he’s been in speech therapy for a stutter for over a year, ever since his mother disappeared without a trace, another suspected victim of the tri-state kidnapper. If that hadn’t been bad enough, Lucas was also the younger sibling of Brittany, the waitress from the Bear Claw who’d been reported missing. The sad little boy had captured Goldie’s heart on sight and she wanted to do anything she could to help him, even just give him a mothering touch. He rarely spoke, and when he did, it was hard for him.

  She smiled again at Lucas as he placed each figure carefully in their labeled box. “You really liked those guys, huh? You ever play the video game?”

  Lucas nodded, a grin on his face, and accepted a bag of fruit snacks Goldie offered. She put the box of figures in her bag, averting her eyes so that Lucas wouldn’t have to look directly at her as she gave him a little push. “Maybe next time we meet you could tell me the coolest build you’ve ever seen.” By the time she looked back he was smiling shyly and giving a little nod as he got up to leave. Goldie waved goodbye, waiting until the door was closed to let her toes tap with joy. Yes! She’d made a connection!

  Goldie headed to the front office to meet the therapist who’d offered to give her a ride home, only to find the receptionist looking at Goldie with a playful gleam in her eye. “A dangerous-looking man just dropped this off for you.”

  Dangerous? Flint. Had to be. Unless… A shiver of apprehension moved through her. Had Darby’s stalker found her? Were they going to have to get new names just to be able to get jobs?

  She could feel a weight inside the envelope and opened it to find her car key and a note: Good as new. No charge. -Riot

  Yes! Goldie laughed out loud and ran outside to find Pascal, her green hatchback she’d named after the chameleon in Tangled.

  Goldie drove home, feeling giddy at having her own car back. And no charge! She would have to thank Riot.

  She walked inside their new place, thinking she would ask Darby what kind of a thank-you gift he might like, glad she would have a bit of money to get him something. They were doing better. Darby was bringing home tip money, now they didn’t have to pay for the repairs. She stopped short. Could they leave? But no, she’d lost that job they’d been heading for when she hadn’t shown up for her first day. And she liked her job here. Darby seemed happy. Flint, a voice said in her head, but she ignored it.

  Darby wasn’t home, so Goldie headed for the kitchen. Maybe they had wine? Someone knocked on the front door and a thrill of fear shot through her. She stopped walking, stood perfectly still. She wouldn’t answer it. It could be Flint, who she both wanted to see, and didn’t want to see, for so many reasons, some vampire-related, some not.

  Another knock. “Goldie? It’s Cora. I know you’re in there. I don’t know how I know, but I do. And I have to tell you, Goldie, I’m just enough of a bitch to sit out here and sing off-key for as long as it takes-”

  Cora. Oh no, had Flint told her about Darby already?

  A second female cut Cora off with a groan. “Oh, for Chrissakes, not again.” Goldie didn’t know that voice. It was confident, clipped, sardonic.

  But Cora wasn’t finished, her threats ringing through the wood, the smile in her voice obvious. “-until you can’t stand it anymore. So why don’t you do us all a favor and open the door?”

  Goldie ran to the door and opened it. Cora was there, ready to launch into song, and behind her stood one of the most striking women Goldie had ever seen. She had tan skin, an exotic face, platinum blonde hair and eyebrows, and a ripped body, like Ronda Rousey. She wore black canvas pants with a black tank top, and had her face screwed up tight and her fingers in her ears, braced for Cora’s singing.

  Cora laughed, making Goldie laugh. The blonde woman opened one eye and saw them laughing, took her fingers out of her ears, and shoved Cora. “I have sensitive ears.”

  Cora snorted and told Goldie, “Miss Sensitive here is Shiloh. She’s-” Cora dropped her voice to a whisper and did air quotes. “One of us.”

  Huh. A switch? No way. Goldie would have felt it. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did.

  Cora made a face, like she knew exactly what Goldie was thinking. “Not a switch. She’s a shifter.” She made a claw and scratched the air. “Rowr kitty. Big rowr kitty.”

  Okay. Big rowr kitty. Goldie wanted to see what exactly that was. She invited the two women in.

  In the kitchen, Cora grabbed a glass on the counter and slammed it down. “Carick says you made the bubble again. You have to teach me.”

  Goldie hated to disappoint her, but what could she do but tell the truth… at least about this? “I don’t even know how I did that. I was just running, chasing that guy,” she couldn’t even bear to call him a vampire, “and then Flint yelled my name and I looked up and saw the car. It came so close I could feel the air pushing off it. The air is what did it really, I just… I think I directed it.”

  Goldie formed her hands into a ball in front of her, moving them apart rapidly. “It was like a transparent green airbag went off or something. Threw me backwards.”

  Cora was staring at her with such focus, Goldie almost had the impression the other woman understood what she was talking about. Then Cora’s hazel eyes narrowed. “Okay, the air. That makes sense, because Carick says that Breath magicks move through the currents of the earth’s breath. Which is just his fancy way of saying wind. I asked. It went well.”

  Goldie wanted to tell Cora to stop talking about it, but she was also fascinated. Ooooohhh, if the wind powers my magic, then maybe that’s why during Katrina… Goldie let the thought trail off, not sure if it made her feel better or worse about her role in that night. She said nothing.

  Cora nodded. “Makes sense, right? I mean, a crazy kind of sense, if you think about it. He’s told me some of the stuff Breath Coven switches are known for. We talk a lot, we like words, we run fast. He says we’re all built like you and me; you know, petite. Says the first time he saw me, he knew what coven I belonged to because of the way I look.” Cora fixed Goldie with a stare that had her holding her breath. “And he says there are always three switches in every coven. One of them is strong at physical stuff, which I think is me, one is super-smart, and one is crazy magical and that’s you and that’s why you can do it without knowing you’re doing it and you have to teach me, please! It could save my life.”

  Goldie couldn’t say no to that. “Let’s go out back.”

  They left the kitchen through the back door and stood on the small raised deck. Cora surveyed the whole backyard. “I remember the first time I saw this place. Got the shit scared out of me.”

  Goldie looked around at the pleasant garden with its small scenes demarcated by walls of hedges and vines, a couple of benches and boulders as focal points, collections of decorative fairy figures scattered around. She chuckled as she looked at Cora. “What, the fairies? I like them, they remind me of Tinkerbell. Not exactly what I expected after meeting Jameson, but it’s not as creepy as garden gnomes.”

  The other two women laughed, but Cora’s expression quickly turned kind and she sought to meet Goldie’s eye. “This is where I found out about the Prowl. Has anyone told you yet?”

  Goldie felt a blush steal over her cheeks. “You mean the vampire hunting part? The stabbing? I’m not very good at it.”

  Cora shook her head slowly. “Not the stabbing. After. The Prowl. Fate really wanted to make sure we killed vampires, and according to Carick there’s some evolutionary stuff going on there too, so, for some reason, we all go
off our fucking rocker when there’s a vampire around, and then once we kill one, well, then we’re worse than the vampire. So, that’s where the big badass animals come in. They keep us safe, and they keep everyone else safe from us.”

  Cora took a breath. “There’s no way to say it but to say it, and, well,” She looked at Shiloh. “Let’s just say you’re Prowling with Shiloh around, she’s probably going to make you run it off, or maybe fight you, go a few rounds if you won’t calm down. But if you are Prowling with, um, I don’t know, Flint, then there’s other options.”

  Goldie swallowed hard. Other options. Yeah, she remembered them. Her stomach turned over as Flint’s image rose in her mind.

  Dangit. She raised her hands. “Okay, yeah, so this is what I did, I put my hands up and-”

  Both Cora and Shiloh laughed and Goldie flushed.

  “Lemme see it,” Cora said, abandoning the topic and mirroring Goldie’s stance.

  Goldie tried to explain, tried to do what she had done. Cora tried to mimic her, but nothing happened to either of them.

  Cora bounced away. “Let me try something.” She leapt from the deck to a patch of lawn, then banked off a boulder and pushed herself into a twisting sort of flip before running some more. Goldie watched, stunned, for two whole minutes as Cora bounced around the garden doing acrobatic maneuvers at lightning speed, never putting a foot wrong, never stumbling or overcorrecting. Definitely the physical switch. If it had been her out there, Goldie would have died three times already.

  Finally Cora vaulted back onto the patio and stood looking over the garden, frowning, barely even winded from her exertions. “Well, that didn’t work. I was thinking of the air the whole time but I never got that push. Maybe it only works if you’re in danger.”

  Shiloh took two steps forward and shoved Cora off the patio. Cora yelled and tumbled down towards a bed of daylilies, getting her arms underneath her just in time to push into a handspring. Once she was back on her feet and brushing dirt off her hands, Cora turned to Shiloh and hollered at her. “What the hell, Shi?”