Mind Games

by Christine Amsden

  I actually felt sorry for the young girl, even if she had hurt my sister. I knew where my heart and loyalties lay, but how terrible to grow up with a father who would damn you to hell if he knew who you really were.

  “There you are.”

  I looked up to see Nicolas at the door to the library, his face awash with anxiety. He bounced ever so slightly on the balls of his feet, in imitation of his mentor.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Elena,” Nicolas said. “Cassie and I need a few minutes, okay?”

  Elena, ever mature for her age, wiped the tears from her eyes and stoically marched from the room, closing the door behind her.

  Nicolas stared after our waiflike sister. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Ask her later. What’s so important?”

  “I went to check out the burned down house last night like you asked. I’ve been trying to call you all day.”

  I snapped instantly to attention. He had called, but I had ignored any call that hadn’t come from the sheriff. “It was a crazy day.”

  “I know, but this is important.”

  “Did you figure out how it was done?”

  “Oh yes.” His face darkened.

  “Well?” I prompted.

  “It was done with gasoline and a match.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not possible. The fire chief…”

  “Lied.” Nicolas left no room for doubt in his tone.

  “I gotta go.” In an instant, I was on my feet and out the door.

  “Can I help?” Nicolas called after me.

  “Yes, go talk to Elena. She needs someone right now.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, the sheriff met me in his office. Unfortunately, he invited Wesley/Evan, who was waiting there when I arrived.

  “I won’t have anything to do with him,” I said.

  “Now isn’t the time,” the sheriff said. “We just got a call about an apartment fire while you were on your way here. We think Jennifer Adams was still inside.”

  I sat in the chair next to Evan and drew in a deep breath. “Arson?”

  “We won’t know until we get the report.”

  “You may not know then. I sent Nicolas to look at the Robertses’ house last night and he says the report was wrong. That the fire was a product of good old fashioned gasoline and a match.”

  “Is he sure?” Sheriff Adams leaned forward, his posture rigid.

  “If there’s one thing he knows, it’s fire. The chief lied.”

  “Or was coerced,” Evan said, giving me a significant look through a stranger’s face. But I now recognized his eyes. “Maybe by mind magic.”

  He meant to offend, I knew, but I didn’t take offense. I remembered what Matthew had been saying about another force fighting their efforts to reclaim sanity. Who? How? Why? I had no idea, but I couldn’t ignore the possibility.

  “We’ll have to reinvestigate from the ground up,” Sheriff Adams said. “Starting with a motive. Who would want her dead and why? From everything I saw at that church, the parishioners loved her.”

  I was already shaking my head before he finished speaking. We didn’t have to start from square one. I already had a pretty good idea what had happened. Now, I just needed to prove it.

  * * *

  Abigail Hastings wasn’t doing well. When I arrived, she lay in bed while her son, Kevin Hastings, tended her. Kevin gave us a dirty look when I insisted on seeing her, sick bed or no.

  “Now don’t you get mad at her.” Abigail spoke slowly, breathing heavily. “I told her to come up. Yell at me.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Minor stroke,” Kevin said. “She needs rest.”

  “I need to talk to Cassie.” Abigail made a weak shooing motion with her hands. “You can leave.”

  Kevin retreated, grumbling something about needing to mix another potion anyway.

  “Will you be okay?” I didn’t want to ask her if she was dying, though I’m sure she caught the undercurrent.

  She choked on a laugh. “I’m not dead yet. But I… I don’t see as much as I used to. Can’t see things I won’t be alive for, you know.”

  “You said something like that yesterday,” I reminded her. She hadn’t said she would be following Grace Blair into the grave, however.

  “I’m old,” Abigail said. “But I could still show you a thing or two, if you let me.”

  She began to cough and I helped steady her, grabbing a glass of water and tipping it up to her lips while she drank.

  “You’ve got a lot of strength, you know,” Abigail said. “If you don’t believe it yet you will, soon.”

  I didn’t know whether I believed it or not. Sure, I’d taken out a powerful vampire and a sorcerer recently, but I’d needed a lot of help along the way.

  “Needing help doesn’t make you weak, you know. It makes you human.”

  “Can you read minds?” I asked.

  Abigail laughed, which made her start to cough again. When the fit passed, she wiped a tear from her eye.

  “No, but I was your age once. Did you know there’s no such thing as a seer-sorcerer?”

  My shock must have shown on my face because she chuckled.

  “Yeah, not too many people know that, so don’t go shouting about it. Never been sure if I believed in God or not, but if He’s up there somewhere, then I’d say He’s trying to keep things balanced. Seeing’s a powerful gift; some say the most powerful.”

  “You should have seen Evan freeze an entire playground full of students bent on destroying each other.”

  “That’s flashy. Makes for good Hollywood, maybe. There’s more to life. More to magic.”

  “Is there a point to all of this?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Point is, there’s more than one type of strength.”

  “But I’m not a seer.”

  “No, but you’re strong. There’s always been a strength about you. Why do you think I want to set you up with my grandson?”

  I looked away. I didn’t want to talk about this, not when I’d come with a specific mission and when the old woman was laid up in bed, making it seem shrewish to argue.

  “When I left the other day,” I began, “I was angry.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “You shouted something after me, something that made me think you knew Sarah Roberts. Is that true?”

  “I didn’t really know her, no, but she came to me once.”

  “Was she a seer?”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “I have reason to believe she wrote down a prophecy that David McClellan would die.” The pieces had been knitting together in my brain all evening. I remembered shoving the pamphlet in Pastor Roberts’s face. At the time I’d believed the message written upon it had been a threat. He might have known differently, though, and he would have recognized his wife’s handwriting.

  It turned my stomach to think I might have inadvertently set him off that day, but the explanation fit the facts, even if it lacked evidence.

  “Yes, she was a seer. Or so she suggested to me once, although at the time she wasn’t sure if she was seeing the future or going mad. I wonder if she accepted it at the end.”

  “So, it’s true.” I let out a long breath.

  “She wasn’t a strong seer. Only saw things that were pretty much guaranteed to happen. Couldn’t see off the path. Don’t know if that was because she couldn’t see or wouldn’t see, but probably a bit of both.”

  “So, if she was about to die, wouldn’t she see that and stop it?” I asked.

  Abigail closed her eyes, considering. “Not if she thought she deserved it.”

  It took me a moment to understand her implication. “You think she committed suicide? Why would she do that? Just because her husband–”

  “Sarah married the man her father picked out for her. She’s had problems her whole life. Always thought she was demon possessed. If she saw herself die in an explosion, which she may or may not
have seen anyway, then yes, I think she might have stayed to die.”

  “Could she have set it herself?” I asked.

  “Maybe. I didn’t know the woman well enough to say, but I could see her husband pushing her that way.”

  For some reason, the thought of her going willingly to her death disturbed me more than the idea that her husband might have killed her.

  “But she might not have seen her death at all?” I asked.

  “There are a lot of paths. Even the strongest of us can’t see them all, and the weak ones like Sarah tend not to be able to see things unless they’re almost guaranteed to happen.”

  “And if she saw her own death, she would stop it from happening, so it wouldn’t be at all likely to happen?”

  “Exactly,” Abigail said. “But in Sarah’s case, I really do wonder if she saw it. And stayed anyway.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “If you’re really ready to learn about Sarah, go talk to her father.”

  “Do her parents live in town?” I asked.

  “No, they’re a couple hours away, but you won’t have much luck talking to her mother.”

  “Why not?”

  Abigail scowled. “You’ll see.”

  25

  SINCE I DIDN’T LEAVE ABIGAIL’S HOME until nearly nine o’clock, my interview with Sarah’s father would have to wait. I put a call into the station to let the sheriff know what I’d discovered, and he agreed that I should talk to the Matthews first thing in the morning. In the meantime, he had someone coming the next day to write up an official second opinion on the cause of the fire, at which point he planned to go knocking on the pastor’s front door.

  He also told me that Jennifer Adams had, in fact, died in the apartment fire. I hadn’t really known her, had only spoken with her the one time, but the news shook me. I remembered her wide eyes and open curiosity. She had eagerly offered me the insight of her gift, but I hadn’t offered her a thing. I didn’t know if there had been anything I could have offered her, any protections I could have given, but even if there hadn’t been a thing I could do, I felt as if I had failed her. After all, her name had been the first on Pastor Roberts’s list.

  Sheriff Adams said he didn’t have enough evidence to arrest the pastor or the fire chief yet, and the logical part of my mind agreed, but my gut rebelled. Who would be next? Bethany Atkins, perhaps? The sheriff himself had given her a call. Hopefully, she would heed his warning.

  By the time I made it back home, I was running on empty. All I wanted to do was crawl under my covers and sleep, maybe with a bit of potion to ease the way. I’d have to give Nicolas’s potion a stir or it wouldn’t work, I remembered as I reached the front door. Guess the day wasn’t over yet.

  The house was dark when I walked inside. I knew Kaitlin was at my parents’ house, learning magic, and I supposed Madison had gone to bed. I swung past the kitchen to tend the potion, hoping two hours late would be better than nothing. With all the recent fires, I thought brewing the flame resistance potion was an excellent idea, which was the only reason I decided to stay up another hour to stir it again before going to bed.

  I turned on the TV, casting a blinding glow over the dark living room. It took my eyes a moment to adjust, which was why I nearly sat on Madison, who had fallen asleep on the sofa.

  We both let out startled shrieks, then I scrambled to the other end of the sofa while she rubbed her eyes and blinked a few times.

  “Sorry, I didn’t see you,” I said.

  “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to fall asleep out here.”

  “Hey, I didn’t see you at the school today.” I hadn’t exactly been looking for her either, but I had only just realized that she should have been in the middle of it all.

  “I wasn’t there.” She said the words so softly I barely heard them, or the self-reproach. “I should have been, but I wasn’t.”

  “It was out of control. You couldn’t have made a difference.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  No, not for sure, but since the Blairs had been having trouble calming things down, I felt pretty confident about it. “Where were you, anyway?”

  She shrugged, shifting to let her hair fall into her face. At the same time, something slipped off her lap, onto the floor. Without thinking, I reached down to pick it up, beating her to the tiny object by microseconds. Not that I had realized we were racing until her hand brushed against mine.

  I picked up a heavy ring. Lifting it closer to my eyes, I saw a large ruby set in gold, encrusted with strange runes. I knew that ring. I’d seen it before, a few days earlier, in McClellan’s shop. McClellan had told me it cost a million dollars.

  Madison snatched the ring from my numb fingers, hiding it in the folds of her shirt. But the damage had already been done. I’d seen it. I just didn’t understand how or why she had it.

  “Madison.” I think my mouth literally hung open for a few seconds. “How did you get that ring?”

  “I bought it.”

  “It cost a million dollars.”

  “I talked Cormack down to eight hundred thousand.”

  “That’s a heck of a deal, but it doesn’t explain where you got eight hundred thousand dollars.” Or why she’d spent it on that ring, but one question at a time.

  “Turns out, my dad didn’t get an inheritance. I did.” She didn’t sound happy about it. “That’s where I was today at lunch. Dad asked me to stop by the bank. Almost looked like someone was threatening him to hand over the money. I guess that’s why he wanted me to move back in with him. So he’d have access to it.”

  “Oh, Madison.” She deserved so much better.

  “It’s okay.”

  It wasn’t, though. That was obvious. “So who died and left you a million dollars?”

  “Ten.”

  “What?” I nearly choked.

  “Ten million dollars.”

  Wow. That even sounded like a lot of money to me, and my parents were alchemists.

  “I have no idea. Dad wouldn’t say. Just tried to convince me to move in with him one last time. Tried to make me feel guilty for not giving him the money.”

  “Wow.” This was clearly a painful topic for Madison, so I switched to my other burning question. “Why’d you spend a big chunk of the money on that ring. You know what it is, don’t you?”

  “Songbird.” She spoke so softly, I barely heard her.

  “You’re already a songbird.”

  “I don’t want to use it!” She looked revolted. “There’s a soul in here, powering it. The soul of a songbird. Like me. I was going to give it to Evan so he could free the soul.”

  I felt a chill run down my spine. How did Madison know about the trapped souls? It wasn’t common knowledge. I doubted it was the sort of thing Evan would have told her in basic lessons.

  What was it Cormack had said about the ring the other day? It’s a recent acquisition; one I’m particularly proud of. David tried for years to get one like it and never managed it.

  “No,” I said.

  “What?”

  “No!”

  Madison looked between me and the ring, shaking her head.

  “Did David – He didn’t? Did he try to steal your soul?” My voice rose with each word so that at the end, I’m surprised we didn’t get angry phone calls from the neighbors.

  Madison sank back into the sofa, eyes wide. The truth was written all over her face. How had I not seen it before? She’d been acting strangely ever since she’d moved in. I’d thought it had to do with her father, but that was about the same time David McClellan had died. I’d been in charge of the damn case and I hadn’t seen it. Maybe I hadn’t wanted to see it.

  I saw it now.

  “What happened, Madison?” I asked. “I want the truth. All of it.”

  “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. He saved my life.”

  “Does a debt prevent you from saying?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “But you’re in charge of the case
.”

  “Let me worry about the case. Trust me, if David did what I think he did I’m going to want to dig him up, bring him back to life, and kill him again myself.”

  She swallowed nervously. “He didn’t think I had protection. Neither did I.”

  “You were both wrong. If I’d known… My family would have helped, too. I know it. Who killed David, Madison? What happened?”

  There was a moment of charged silence between us. She’d been hiding things from me for weeks, probably still wanted to hide things. But those things were eating her up inside, and I needed the truth. I wouldn’t settle for anything less.

  “What do you think happened?” Madison suddenly sat upright and flung her hair away, anger burning in her eyes. “Do you really want to know the details? Do you want to hear about David coming in here and preparing me for the ritual? About him binding me? Slicing open my shirt? Cutting runes into my flesh? There are still scars. Do you want to see them? Do you want to hear about Scott barging in and stabbing him in the gut before slicing open his throat?” Tears were streaming down her face, but I don’t think she knew.

  “Scott Lee?” I had expected her to say Evan.

  “Scott.” Her entire body still trembled, but the flash of anger was quickly fading into something else. “He k-killed David. He died right over there.” Madison gestured at a spot near the front door. I tried not to imagine the blood.

  “Scott won’t be in trouble, will he?” Madison asked.

  “No. I’ll make sure of it.” I frowned. “Did something happen with you and Scott that night? Because I thought he was interested in you but he hasn’t done anything about it.” And she owed him her life, but I didn’t mention that.

  “I don’t think so.” Madison shook her head. “I thought maybe he was but… A stupid fantasy. He’s a werewolf.”

  “I know that.”

  “It was the full moon.”

  My eyes went wide. “Did he bite you?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t talk about it. Please.”

  “Madison–”