I faced her after I pulled into the parking lot of Romano’s. “Andy is not better than you. He really cares about you, and I’m stoked to see you two together.”
I stiffened when she leaned over and brushed her lips across my cheek. “You’re such an awesome matchmaker, Char.”
Great.
Lorelei had officially corrupted me.
***
I stood over Cam’s slumped form, contemplating whether I should just leave him alone and let him sleep off the alcohol. He looked peaceful in his inebriated slumber, and my inner-voice warned me not to bother him until he was alert and sober.
Unfortunately for him, my conscience didn’t win the argument.
I took pleasure in dumping the almost full bottle of scotch in the kitchen sink. And I was even more satisfied with myself when I filled the empty glass container with cold water. My biggest triumph of the day wasn’t completing summer school or playing Cupid for my friends. It was the look on Cam’s face when he shot straight up off the couch once I poured the water on him.
He turned scarlet, sputtering incoherently, and his eyes were wild as he tried to grasp where he was. Once he realized he was still in the garage, he glared at me through a bloodshot haze and dragged shaky hands through tousled hair.
“What are you doing?” His voice wasn’t angry, like I expected. He just sounded defeated.
And sad.
I slid the bottle on the side table and stared down at him as he rested his elbows on his knees and cupped his face with both hands. I hadn’t really thought of what my explanation would be. All I knew was I refused to see him drown his unhappiness.
The era of ‘Drunk Cam’ was over.
I sank down beside him. My hand crept to his back, but I wasn’t offended when he pushed me away. I stared at my knuckles and listened to his heavy breathing.
A few minutes passed before I spoke to him. My voice was calm, unlike the violent storm raging inside of me. I didn’t want to be angry with him, but he was being an asshole, and no, there wasn’t a nice way to describe his behavior. “If this is over Lorelei, you realize that you wasted time and booze, right? Because she didn’t do anything wrong.”
His voice muffled, and the only word I identified was ‘liar’.
“I’m not a liar and neither is she.” At least not about this. “I’m not covering for you anymore or making excuses.”
“God, you sound like Mom,” he snapped, looking past me at the television screen. I stomped across the room and yanked the cord out of the wall. Take that extreme motocross racing.
“If that’s the case, here’s a message for you: I realize you didn’t get to go to college last year because of Mom, and that you have a trust complex now, but this”—I held up the empty glass bottle—“won’t help your problems. Dad’s been through enough.” His face was pinched now, and since I would yell if I said anything else, I cut my tirade short.
I left the room, sulking over my inability to follow my own advice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I had to work Saturday afternoon but felt the intense urge to see Lorelei first. The miserable expression that took over her face the night Cam freaked out haunted me almost as much as Mom’s translucent despair.
Lorelei shouldn't have to hurt because of my brother. It was almost ironic since I feared for his safety after I found out what she was. She wouldn’t harm him. At least not physically.
She didn’t answer after I knocked several times, so I let myself into the cottage, and immediately, two disturbing sights pinged me in the chest. Lorelei’s usually pristine living room was cluttered with designer suitcases.
She’s leaving.
I didn’t obsess over the luggage for too long, because the second thing—Francesca—stood over one of the open bags. She didn’t glance up at me as I gaped at her. She just continued to sift through lacy bras and underwear. When she finally acknowledged my presence, a good two minutes after I stepped into the house, she held a scrap of underwire, pastel sheer in each hand. “What do you think, Scarlett?”
Not only was I damn sure she remembered my actual name, but I also bet 10 bucks she was fully aware of how much I hated her. Why would she ask me about her underwear? Why would she assume I even cared?
“Where’s Lorelei?” I asked.
She huffed and tossed both bras back into the bag. Planting manicured hands on her bony hips, she shook her head until her hair swung all around her. The clucking noise she made with her tongue was more annoying than the fake laughter of Summer Kids. “I loathe the name Lorelei. She’s Aglaope, got it?”
She prepared to continue her rant, but I chose not to give her the opportunity. The rage building inside of me took over, and before I realized what I was doing, I was next to her, shoving her down onto the couch. She landed with a thud against one of the suitcases. Her crimson-painted mouth hung open for a few moments. She was deciding what rude remark to make next.
“My sister never told me you were so feisty,” she mused. Her eyes remained icy as she forced a smile, and I decided I liked her better when her lips were twisted into the pout that graced the magazine covers.
The bitchy look really did suit Francesca.
I spun around and paced in front of the couch, hating her a little more as her gaze dropped to my dirty sneakers and she scrunched her face. “I hope you have plans to guide the souls that are waiting for you. Because if you don’t, the hunter won’t have to look very hard for you. I'll deliver you to him myself. I have no other reason to want you around,” I said.
I waited for her to yell at me—or lash out since she was more powerful—but she only laughed. Her thin shoulders quaked, and if she could cry, tears of merriment would have trickled down her cheeks.
Lame.
Once she stopped mocking me, her typical taunting, cruel frown replaced the smirk. “You won’t do it.”
“So sure?”
“Of course I am. You’re exactly like Ag.”
“She’s killed before,” I pointed out.
Lorelei cleared her throat. Francesca and I twisted our heads to glance at her. She stood in the doorway, sipping water, but despite her normal bright apparel, her expression was cheerless. Her lips thinned into the tight line that seemed to be the norm whenever Francesca was around.
Maninizer obviously had that negative effect on people—both mortal and immortal.
“I hate that you underestimate others’ emotions, Thel,” Lorelei said. “This isn’t just any soul Charlotte is worried about. It’s her mother. What would you have done if it were ours?”
Francesca lifted her shoulders up to the diamonds glittering in her ears. “But it’s not ours.”
Three months ago—no, three weeks ago—I would have gone nuts if I heard that. My lessons in self-control were working because I gave her a nasty look. It only seemed to fuel her spitefulness, as she grinned like a cat.
I jabbed a finger at Francesca and told Lorelei, “Please tell me you hate her as much as I do?” I examined one of the paintings on the wall in an effort to evade both sirens’ stares.
“Not always,” Lorelei whispered.
I brushed my thumb over the canvas in front of me, and for the first time, I realized it was another Lorelei image. It was older than the rest and the sight of her with an almost compassionate looking Francesca and a younger girl with auburn hair amazed me.
“One of your other sisters?”
Lorelei nodded and took another swallow of water. “Peisinoe.”
“She died in Rome nine hundred years ago. Silly thing willingly gave herself up to the hunter. Said she didn’t want to run forever,” Francesca added. Lorelei gasped at her sister’s bluntness. She eyeballed one of the vases sitting on the side table. Even though I knew Francesca was bulletproof, I wanted Lorelei to go trashy talk show guest on her and slam it against her perfect head.
Hell, I would even offer to help.
I slid down in the armchair across from the skank. She crossed her legs, rubbi
ng the heel of her black platform, and yawned like she was bored. I wanted to tell her to stop being so worthless and go guide Mom’s soul. Instead, I averted my gaze back to Lorelei. “Are you leaving?”
“Why do you care?” Francesca asked.
I ignored her and tilted my head at Lorelei. “I really don’t want you to leave, and I know Cam will come around.” I paid Francesca no mind when she muttered something. Pretending she didn’t exist might make her leave.
Lorelei shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’m glad you want me to stay. That means a lot to me, but I am not moving. This”—she gestured at the luggage scattered around the room—“is all Thel’s. She’s staying with me for a little while.”
Francesca snorted loudly. Lorelei and I glowered at her. “You should just drown him,” she hissed.
I growled and dug my fingers into the jacquard fabric of the chair so I wouldn’t pounce. “How long she staying here?”
“Until next week.”
Wonderful. At least there was one good thing about having to put up with Francesca’s maninizing presence for a week. “Make sure she guides my mom,” I said to Lorelei. My tone was hateful when I turned to Francesca. “If you don’t, I’ll find a way to hold your lazy ass underwater so the hunter can kill you. I’m running late for work, so I really hope you get a start on being productive.”
Francesca’s muddled expression followed me as I skulked from the cottage, but her sister smiled, and I half-expected her to applaud me.
***
When I moped through the double doors of Romano’s cursing, Rob lifted his eyebrows and temporarily stopped stalking a group of customers. He followed me to the bar. Shoving my bag in its usual spot, I granted him a harsh grunt and decided that if I tried to use actual words, I would go off on a rant. Besides, what was I going to say?
Hey, Rob. So sorry for being completely unreliable again. Had to speak my mind to an immortal witch before coming to work, I’m sure you understand.
But he didn’t comment on the fact I was late. Guess he didn’t see a point anymore—I was habitually tardy. The only reason he refused to fire me was that paying someone else more money to do my job would blow.
“Everything okay at home?” he asked, picking up a bottle of cleaner. The toxic mist drifted up in the air when he sprayed it, and a few of the regulars sitting at the bar choked on the fumes. Didn't he know mixing bleach and lemon-scented cleaner was a stupid idea?
“Fan-freaking-tastic.”
He nodded, though it was obvious he didn’t buy what I said.
In the first hour, I pissed off a group of Summer Girls by botching one of their orders. And when they giggled like bimbos while deciding on dessert, one of them heard my whispered remark about growing brain cells. They left me a nasty, misspelled note scribbled across the bottom of the receipt instead of a tip.
Tonight, it was almost worth offending them.
One of the regulars bumped into me as I refilled his coffee, and the entire pot poured onto my skin and dribbled to the floor. I reassured him repeatedly that I would get my hand checked out. The damage was already done. He noticed that I didn’t react right away to the scalding coffee and his eyes remained glued to my skin, waiting for it to turn red or blister. Only moisture formed over my hand, the same from the night my leg was on fire.
He didn’t call me out on my story, but I caught him pressing his own hand to the glass pot. He winced then returned to drenching his food in tartar sauce.
My evening had no chance of improving once I saw the last person I expected, or wanted, to see in my section: Golden Boy’s Stepford mother. She sat next to a girl who showed off an impressive neck tattoo and array of earrings when she twisted her head to the side. Lip Ring Girl made such a startling contrast to Mrs. Golden that I couldn’t help but wonder why they were even together.
I dragged my feet to their table hoping—okay, praying—she wouldn’t remember me. That Wyatt started bringing some other girl around, that she conveniently forgot I ever came to her home.
But she smiled while I shifted awkwardly in front of them. “Charlotte?” she asked.
I hoped I didn’t look constipated as I tried to channel Lorelei’s constant optimism. “Hi, Mrs. Anderson! How are you?”
“I’m wonderful!” She gestured to the other girl. “Charlotte, this is Audrey, my daughter.”
“The infamous Charlotte,” Audrey said. I couldn't stop staring at her bejeweled bottom lip glittering under the fluorescent lights. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that she knew my name, right? After all, I knew who she was and where she spent most of the summer. Still, the girl sitting in front of me with the brilliant red hair and eyebrow stud was so different from the Audrey I imagined, I grinned.
I wondered how Wyatt’s image-obsessed Dad reacted to her. “I’m scared to know why I’m infamous,” I said. “What can I help y’all with”
Instead of just ordering an expensive mixed drink and letting me get back to my work, Mrs. Golden tapped her fingers together and wrinkled her forehead. “Have you been busy lately? You haven’t come around.”
I blinked.
Did she forget that her kid came to my job claiming he couldn’t see me? That I was a threat to her husband’s political career? That Kyle and his dad completely smeared my family’s name?
“Just finished up summer school,” I blurted.
Audrey’s toothy grin was similar to his. She shook her head like she understood and winked a heavily lined eye. My explanation to Mrs. Anderson completely flew over her head because she just kept smiling. “You’ll have to start coming back over. I think Wyatt misses your company.” Audrey shushed her and put an end to my misery by pointing to the menu and asking a question about a vegetarian dish.
I was mechanical as I jotted down their order. Robotic when I hobbled to the kitchen to give the slip of paper to the cook. My trance broke after Rob yelled at me, demanding to know if I was high.
“You look dazed. Do I need to mouth swab your again?”
His mom has no idea about what happened.
“Are you ignoring me?” Rob asked, puffing his chest out.
“Sorry, don’t feel so good tonight.”
He made a face then pointed toward the bathroom. “That makes two of you. Your friend has been in there for the past fifteen minutes.”
I didn’t realize Sophie was working. He started to say something else, but I waved him off, racing to the restroom.
She was alone, hunched over the sink, and strange sounds gurgled in the back of her throat. I fell against the door once it closed behind me. “Dude, are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” she slurred.
She was fucked up at work.
Didn’t she tell me the day before she was done with pills? What happened over the last twenty-four hours that would cause her to regress? I took a step forward, reaching out when her head plopped against the ceramic sink. “Soph?”
She didn’t answer so I inched closer. The draft of cool air that swept through the tiny room assured me I wasn’t speaking to my best friend. My heartbeat stopped, and I stiffened.
“What did you do to her?” I whispered.
Observant brown eyes replaced Sophie’s dark blue ones as she twisted around, a sadistic smile slung across her face. “What have you done to her?” I asked again. Demeter’s laugh paralyzed me, and she examined one of Sophie’s flushed hands.
“You should give up,” she sang. She turned back to the mirror and fluffed blonde curls, her brown eyes demanding my attention through the glass. I recoiled at the obvious fear in my own reflection. “Did you give my message to your sisters?”
My fists clenched. I just wanted to shake her, but I reminded myself that lunging after her would only hurt my best friend. “They’re not my sisters.”
Her body—Sophie’s body—vibrated with laughter, and we both brushed off Rob’s desperate knocking on the bathroom door. “Char? I everything okay?” he called.
�
��What did you do to her?”
She faced me again, and Sophie’s bag dangled from her wrist. “Oh, relax, love. Just a bit of mortal medicine. If you’re fast enough, she won’t die. Make sure you tell Thelxiope and Aglaope I stopped by.”
I gripped the top of a stall for support. She couldn’t kill Sophie . . . that was against the rules, wasn’t it? “Why don’t you go and see them yourself?”
She stood so close to me now that I saw flecks of yellow in her eyes. “I enjoy contacting them through you.” She blew me a kiss then wiggled her fingers. “You have very little time left.”
I knew Sophie was back when the room became muggy. Her eyes were wild, terrified, and she clutched her head. Lips quivering, she stretched her arms out, and then she tumbled forward.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I convinced Sophie’s parents, and even Sophie, that she took a sip from a drugged soda. A few years ago, I watched a Dateline special on drink doping with Mom, and as soon as the police questioned me about what happened, I remembered the show. My fabricated story was elaborate and just a bit ridiculous, but there was no way in hell I was letting my friend burn for a situation that was out of her control.
A situation that I caused.
Rob was miffed because my claims suggested one of his customers left the tainted drink sitting around. When he cornered me about it, I told him to suck it up and get over it. At least he wasn’t under investigation. And besides, he seemed more concerned about the possibility of losing two employees than the fact Sophie was in the hospital.
He was momentarily appeased when I told him neither of us planned on quitting.
Cam went with me to visit her on Wednesday morning. He shuffled around her room after nodding a terse greeting, jittery and awkward. He refused to look her in the eyes. The situation reminded him of Mom.
He pretended to be interested in the bouquets of wilted flowers and the deflated balloons poking up throughout the room as I sat on the edge of the bed. The distant, almost blank, look on his face made me wonder what he was thinking. Was he asking himself what would have happened if someone helped our mom?
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