Mind Games

by Christine Amsden

  “Yeah.” Part of me wanted to stick around and see what they did, but I had sense enough not to argue.

  Matthew placed a light, feathery kiss on my temple, the gesture somehow making me feel safe and warm. “Thank you. How about if I stop by your place later tonight?”

  “Sounds great.”

  * * *

  It was difficult to manufacture a reason for not reporting in, but I managed. I could have just said that the crowd had become violent, which would have been true, but I had the impression that their violent behavior wasn’t entirely their own fault. It had something to do with the failed spell the Blairs had been trying to cast.

  So instead, I told the sheriff that I needed to check out a lead on the McClellan case, which wasn’t entirely untrue. On impulse, I decided to go to city hall to figure out who lived near the site of the abandoned car. It may have been closest to Malloren land, but they weren’t the only ones who lived that way. The car had been found near the edge of the Malloren property, very near the border with the Eagles. The Mallorens’ other neighbors were Scott Lee and his sister, Amanda.

  David McClellan didn’t live anywhere near the site, nor did his family. I had no idea whether that was interesting or not, but I decided to spend the afternoon interviewing the Mallorens and their immediate neighbors to find out if they had seen anything.

  When I called Sheriff Adams to let him know, he insisted that Wesley drive along with me.

  “Why?” I asked, startled. Not that I had a problem with Wesley so far, but I didn’t relish the thought of confronting three powerful households by myself, let alone with an unknown quantity like Wesley.

  “Just humor me,” Sheriff Adams said. “I know who these people are, and I even know they’re more likely to talk to you if you’re alone, but I don’t trust them.”

  “And Wesley is going to help how?” If my parents’ protection didn’t help me, Wesley’s certainly wouldn’t.

  “Just humor me.”

  Ten minutes later, Wesley met me at city hall and the two of us headed back out to the lake.

  “What happened this morning?” Wesley asked after a while.

  My first thought was of Cormack McClellan attacking me with mind magic, then of the spell-shocked mob, but he was probably just asking about the car and my reason for going to question the neighbors. I kept my report simple and to the point.

  Wesley remained silent for almost a full minute after I finished my story. “Is there any reason you didn’t report those men attacking you outside the station today?”

  My hands slipped a little on the steering wheel. “What?”

  “I had an eye on them all morning,” Wesley said. “I was about to call for backup when that man walked calmly into the middle of things and somehow got you out. Not sure if that’s the magic everyone’s talking about around here or another symptom of the insanity. Maybe both.”

  “Both,” I agreed. “Definitely both. Um, did you tell the sheriff?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that why he wanted you to drive out here with me?”

  “Yes.”

  That explained a lot. I hadn’t heard it in his voice, but the sheriff had to be pretty upset with me for lying to him, or at least for holding back the truth. He could be understanding to a point, but only to a point.

  We drove in silence until we reached the Mallorens’ house, where I made a show of taking the lead. Wesley didn’t protest in the least, and seemed quite happy to slide back into the shadows almost out of sight while I depressed the doorbell and waited for someone to answer.

  A sour-faced young man, not much younger than me, answered the door with iPod buds still in his ears. “What?” he asked loudly.

  I gestured to his ears. “I have a few questions.”

  Grudgingly, he removed the ear buds and gave me a rather unflattering head to toe appraisal. “Cassie Scot?”

  I returned the appraisal, trying to mimic his snide look. “Pat Malloren? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  “No.” For a minute I thought he was going to leave it there, then he shrugged and added, “Graduated last May.”

  “I thought you were 17.”

  “I’m gifted. Are you the truancy officer or do you have some other point in being here?”

  Ignoring his tone, I plunged forward. “I found an abandoned car near the edge of your parents’ property.” I gestured in the general direction I meant. “Belonged to David McClellan.”

  Surprise, raw and unmistakable, flickered across his face. In the next instant it was gone, but I knew I hadn’t missed it.

  “Are your parents home?” I asked. Just because Pat didn’t know anything, didn’t mean his parents wouldn’t.

  “No. And the kids are at school.”

  I handed him a card. “Have your parents call me when they get in, all right?”

  He shrugged. “Sure, but they won’t want to talk to you.”

  “Why not?” I shouldn’t have asked, but the words popped out before I could help myself.

  “It’s not personal. They just don’t talk to cops. Well, and they don’t like your family. Or you.”

  He had an odd definition of personal, but I decided that I really didn’t need to know any more. One of the runes carved into the door frame had begun to glow, probably because of his declaration that I was neither welcomed nor liked.

  “Come on, Wesley, let’s go.” I turned to leave.

  “Don’t tell my parents I said so,” Pat said. “But David McClellan’s no big loss.”

  The words surprised me so much that I stopped and spun on my heels to face him once more. “You don’t like him?” I had always thought of the McClellans and the Mallorens as sort of allies. The Mallorens were among those demanding justice.

  “He’s a creep,” Pat said. “Saw him try to lure some little girl into his shop a year or so ago. Don’t know why and don’t want to know.”

  He started to put his ear buds back in his ears but I stopped him. “What happened to the little girl?”

  “Nothing. David tried to play it off when he saw me and didn’t do anything to her. She and her parents left town the next day. Tourists.” Again, he shrugged. I was beginning to think of it as a nervous tic. “The guy thought he was invincible. Sooner or later he was going to mess with the wrong person.”

  “Someone who could fight back, you mean?”

  “More likely someone with a protector who would fight back. He wasn’t quite that sloppy.” With that, Pat apparently decided he’d said enough and plugged his ear buds back in, shutting the door in my face.

  * * *

  I couldn’t look forward to talking to Scott Lee again, despite his recent assistance in the rescue of two missing girls. I even checked the lunar calendar to make sure the moon wasn’t full, knowing it wouldn’t ease my mind either way. I had seen Scott kill a man in broad daylight – quickly, viciously, and without remorse. Werewolves made me nervous. They were unpredictable, often quick to anger, and some of them were killers. I knew that many managed the condition well enough, and Evan assured me that Scott was not only one of them, but a leader of his pack. He was the one who taught newly bitten werewolves the control they needed. He also killed the ones who couldn’t – or wouldn’t – learn.

  The trouble was that in wolf form, even someone as in-control as Scott Lee might hurt someone. He had confessed that truth to me when we’d first discovered David’s body in the woods Scott’s pack used each month. Yes, he had said, one of us probably did that to him. He shouldn’t have been in our forest.

  That had been before the medical examiner’s report came back, saying David had been dead before he’d been dumped in that forest. I had decided not to question the pack further afterward, and not just because Scott refused to name them.

  I didn’t tell Wesley about any of that, partly because I wasn’t sure he would believe it, and partly because I didn’t want to out Scott Lee as a werewolf. Most of the magical community knew that he’d been bitten as a teen
ager, so I didn’t believe it to be a closely guarded secret. But whatever else he was, Scott had helped me out recently, and I would keep his confidence.

  It wasn’t Scott who opened the door when we knocked, however; it was his eighteen-year-old sister, Amanda. She was a tiny little thing, barely topping five feet, but full of infectious energy. She was one of those people it was difficult not to like because she had a smile for everyone. Hard to imagine, really, considering that her mother had died when she was a little girl and her father had died six years ago, leaving her to her wolfish older brother to finish raising.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked when she opened the door.

  “No, everything’s fine. We’re just looking into the murder of David McClellan, and we found his car abandoned not far from here. Right past the edge of your properly. We wanted to know if you might have seen anything suspicious.”

  She bit her lip. “No. Why do you care, though? David was a horrible person.”

  “That may be, but I still have to do my job.”

  “Who says?” Amanda asked.

  “Amanda,” came another voice from within the house. A few seconds later, Scott appeared behind his sister. He gave her a look that sent her scurrying back into the house.

  Scott wasn’t much taller than me, but he had a lot of bulk, and in his face was a hint of the wolf that lay beneath the surface. He and Evan were best friends, which meant seeing him brought uncomfortable memories to the surface.

  “What’s this about?” Scott asked.

  I repeated what we knew about David’s car.

  “I didn’t see anything, but if his car was taken around the night he was killed, I wouldn’t have been nearby, and Amanda would have remained safely inside.”

  In other words, he would have been a wolf running through a forest about ten miles away, where David’s body had been found, and his little sister would have been tucked safely in her bed, behind a threshold.

  “Thank you for your time,” Wesley said, turning to walk away.

  “I have one more question,” I said in a low voice when Wesley was out of earshot. “Do werewolves usually go after carrion?”

  Scott glared at me, somehow giving me the impression that I had insulted him. “Only if it’s fresh.”

  “How fresh?” I pushed.

  “Fresh.” Clearly, he’d said as much as he intended to say.

  “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me David’s not worth my effort?” I asked.

  Scott shrugged. “You know he’s not. I assume you have your reasons.”

  “I do.” I shot a glance over my shoulder at Wesley, who looked impatient to leave. “Can you give me a minute alone with Scott?”

  “I’ll go stand by the car.” He told me without words that the car was as far as he would go. From the curb, he could see us, although he shouldn’t hear a quiet conversation.

  “Look,” I said, suddenly feeling I had to know, even if I didn’t act on it, “the way we found that car – someone had to have flown it into its ditch. You and I both know someone who could do that.”

  “I know a lot of people who could do that.”

  “But Evan had his reasons for hating McClellan, and he claimed to be on some kind of mission to protect people.” I tried not to let my personal feelings get in the way, though they asserted themselves in the form of knots in my belly.

  “So?”

  “Look, I don’t care who killed David. I’m guessing whoever it is deserves a medal. But I think there’s a connection to that fire last night, the one that killed Sarah Roberts.”

  Scott’s eyes narrowed. “You think whoever killed David killed Sarah?”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “I can’t help you.” Scott backed away, preparing to close the door.

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Good-bye, Cassie.” He closed the door.

  * * *

  Madison cooked dinner that night – baked fish, salad, potatoes, and homemade bread. She still didn’t quite have the hang of baking her own bread, but each attempt got a little better. This one had risen beautifully (something her first few loaves had failed to do), but was a little bit dense.

  “It’s good,” I told her.

  She shook her head, sadly. “The texture is off.”

  “Make sure you don’t pack your flour. You should spoon it loosely into the measuring cup.”

  She nodded, as if in acceptance, but her face looked downcast. “All right.”

  “Hey, you’ve come a long way since last month, when you ate everything out of a box. The fish came out great.” I smiled at her.

  Madison returned the smile, shyly. “Thanks.”

  “Matthew’s coming over tonight.”

  She dropped her fork and her smile. “Really? When? I guess I should…”

  “Not until seven and I don’t think he’s staying long.”

  “Oh. Well, I guess I can go out for a walk around then.”

  “If you want to.” I gave her a penetrating look, which made her squirm, probably in part because of Tuesday night’s inquisition. I hesitated to throw her more questions when I already felt bad for prying, but I did at least have to ask, “What’s going on?”

  She took a deep breath. “I know Matthew’s a mind mage.”

  She shouldn’t have known about Matthew. She couldn’t have known. If the Blairs knew she knew, she wouldn’t know.

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. The important thing is that I’m afraid he’s manipulating you.”

  I wanted to feel angry with her, but I couldn’t quite manage it. Not with her trying to protect me.

  “Would you know if he was?” Madison asked.

  “Oh, I think it would be pretty obvious.” I relayed Cormack’s clumsy attempt to control me that morning.

  “Cormack’s not a mind mage, though.” Madison didn’t look at me. “I mean, let’s face it, I was manipulating people for years with my singing and they never knew it. Not even you.”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it, unable to deny the point. Madison had made me feel all kinds of things with her voice – happy, sad, patriotic, and even hungry. It was a subtle mind magic, but powerful for all that, largely because it was so subtle.

  “If you know it’s happening,” Madison said, “it’s easier to fight. The first time I met your little brother, Adam, I had no idea what he was doing to me, but then Nicolas told me about his gift and now I don’t find myself having to do everything he says. It’s hard, but I can fight it. Most of the other teachers let him get away with anything in class.”

  I suddenly remembered a run-in with a hopelessness potion I’d had a few weeks earlier, while looking for my missing cousin and her friend. It had worked with my own insecurities, turning them up a notch, making it difficult for me to admit that anything had affected my judgment. Subtlety.

  “I’m not saying he’s doing anything to you,” Madison hastened to add. “I was just wondering how you’d even know.”

  “I don’t know.” I stared off into space, trying to follow Madison’s logic. It’s what I did for a living, after all – solve puzzles. I could work through this as well. “Am I acting differently in any way?”

  “You’re dating a sorcerer,” Madison said. “I know you made an exception for Evan, but you were in love with him. Are you in love with Matthew?”

  “I don’t know.” Wasn’t that a good sign in and of itself? If he’d put some kind of love spell on me, wouldn’t I be able to answer definitely and affirmatively?

  “Subtlety,” Madison said. “If you fell in love too quickly and too easily, you’d never accept it.”

  I threw up my hands in frustration. “By that logic, how can I ever trust my own mind? Look, my parents haven’t warned me off of him. Shouldn’t that mean something?”

  “I suppose. So why do you like him?”

  I had to think about it for a minute. “Well, it’s not like I’ve made any long-ter
m decisions about him yet.”

  “No, but you are dating him.”

  “Yeah.” I thought about it again, remembering what he’d told me about helping the suicidal girl at his fundraiser. “He’s a good person. Powerful, but I actually think he uses his power well, if you know what I mean.”

  There was one other reason that flitted through the back of my mind, one I felt ashamed to admit. It had to do with the way he’d helped stop the gunman in Kaitlin’s Diner and the way he’d led me safely away from the mob that afternoon.

  Protector. It wasn’t something I used to think I needed, but lately all evidence pointed to the contrary.

  “What are you thinking?” Madison asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “Nothing.” The entire conversation was getting too uncomfortable for me. “Let’s talk about something else.”

  * * *

  Matthew arrived promptly at seven, shortly after Madison headed out clad in jogging shorts and tennis shoes. He wore jeans and a striped polo shirt, though on him, even jeans contained a simple sort of elegance. Madison had managed to inundate me with reservations – many of them – but they melted away upon catching sight of his somewhat weary smile.

  “Would you like to sit down?” I gestured to the lime green sofa.

  “I just wanted to apologize again for this afternoon,” Matthew said as he took a seat. “It was such a mess. Mob mentality is hard to deal with because the minds feed on one another in such a way that you’re no longer dealing with individuals, but rather a collective subconscious.”

  “Did you do whatever you were trying to do?”

  “No.” He didn’t sound at all happy about it, either. “It’s almost like someone is fighting us.”

  My mind went back to Pastor Roberts’s sermon. I wasn’t sure if it was significant or if Matthew already knew, but I had an idea for him. “Mark Roberts has some charisma. I don’t know how much, but it’s not weak.”

  “That could be it.” Matthew didn’t sound convinced, but he didn’t shed any more light on the subject. It was a shame. Especially after my conversation with Madison, I found myself wanting to know much more about mind magic. Not because I thought Matthew was controlling me or anything, but because knowing more might put my mind at ease.