Before the Storm

by Claire Ashgrove

“That my teacher wasn’t going to fall over dead? You’re welcome. Now that you’re okay, can we deal with the duck?”

  I let my gaze slide sideways and allowed myself to really look at him. He hadn’t shaved, and the day’s accumulation of stubble sharpened his already strong jaw line. But it was his eyes that captured me. His gaze remained fixed on the television, and something about his expression seemed far away. A little…sad. Tired—he looked so worn out.

  “You are okay, aren’t you?”

  Kale nodded slowly and twisted to look at me. I saw it then. A hollowness in his beautiful blue eyes that hadn’t been present before.

  “Yeah,” he murmured. “I’m okay.”

  “And the banshee?”

  “Dead.”

  A long heavy moment of silence passed between us. I got the impression he wanted to say something more, like I did. But neither of us knew quite how to broach that distance…or if we really, truly wanted to.

  I gave in and blurted, “How are you so…healed? You weren’t well, Kale. I’m not a doctor, and I could tell you had one foot in the grave.”

  A bitter smirk touched his mouth before he let out a short chuckle. “Magic.”

  “Will I be able to do that?”

  “No.” Short and sharp, the emphatic word halted further questions.

  Okay then. Touchy subject. Guess he was entitled to his secrets. I had mine, and I wasn’t about to share either.

  I leaned back in the couch and braced my feet on the edge of the table. “You aren’t going to fix the duck for me, are you?”

  “Can’t.”

  “Won’t. And since you won’t—” I gestured at the open book on the cushion beside me “—I have reading to do. Did you want anything in particular?”

  “You know what you said earlier? About not wanting the responsibility? I don’t either, Halle. I don’t want a damned bit of it. You don’t know how lucky you are to have a choice.”

  I blinked. That was certainly the last thing I’d expected to hear. “What—”

  “Never mind.” Kale stood. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” He crossed to the door, hesitated with one hand on the knob. “I’ll see you in the morning? Say nine? We can have breakfast, and I’ll show you around some more.”

  “Um. Sure.”

  With an abrupt nod, he opened the door. One foot in the hall, he stopped again and looked back at me. “Thanks for being the only one who was concerned for me, not who I am.”

  He shut the door, leaving me in stunned silence.

  Eleven

  To my ever-growing frustration, Kale arrived promptly at nine the next morning. After a late night of trying to solve the duck problem, I was nowhere near ready to be functioning at that early hour. And if it hadn’t been for the set of clothes Spring had brought by about thirty minutes before Kale’s arrival, I wouldn’t have even been awake when he banged on my door.

  Obscenities and scathing remarks remained on the tip of my tongue throughout our promised tour and jaunt to the cafeteria for breakfast. Luckily, Kale seemed attuned to my mood; he didn’t press me for conversation. Didn’t push me into discussing the camarilla’s goals. He spoke, and I listened. And watched my tag-along pet.

  A pet that, I must admit, was beginning to grow on me. There was just something about the intelligence shining in his coal black eyes. And the way he followed me…I could almost believe I meant something to him.

  Almost.

  After breakfast, Kale led me down some corridor that opened into the largest stockpile of books I’d ever seen. They decorated the walls from stone floor to stone ceiling. More were piled in corners, stacked so high the towers leaned at awkward angles. Others covered tabletops, poked out from chairs, and stuck out at odd angles from the simple wood shelves. Most were extremely old, and the scent of must hung heavily in the cool room.

  I’d like to say something significant happened here. And maybe in some small way, it did. But mostly, that would be false—nothing at all remarkable occurred. We sat at the table; he pulled out different books, flipped through the pages like he’d been reading them for hundreds of years, and went through several small chants with me. Then he’d put that particular book away, grab another, and we repeated the process.

  For two days.

  Two long days filled with recitation of words I didn’t understand, inflections I struggled to master, translations I confused at liberty, and memorization that was more grueling than any military boot camp I could imagine.

  I was so beat when we finished each evening I could barely choke down a few bites of dinner before I passed out, sitting upright on my couch, television droning in the background, and Tufty curled up at my hip. That had become my normal: my damned duck liked to snuggle whenever he could. And I had no idea how much I could enjoy something so…simple.

  On the third morning, I woke strangely well rested after spending the night at an awkward angle on the corner of the sofa. I showered and was ready to go before Kale ever thumped on the door. With time to burn, I plopped down on the floor in my usual studying place and picked up one of the first books I’d read through. It was my last agreed-upon day in the camarilla, and though Kale hadn’t broached the subject, I needed to get back to the Frost Club. This little excursion wasn’t proving as successful as I’d intended. Faye was still stuck with Allen, and I needed to check on her too. Yet before I could leave, I needed to give the damned duck back his normal. And I would. Somehow.

  Oddly enough, as I scanned the lines of rhythmical prose, it didn’t fog my head as it had the first time. Although this was in English, simple words resonated in my mind like the rich intonation of a baritone, acapella choir. Each verse I repeated under my breath did something more as well. My skin prickled, tingling with that same energy I’d tapped into when Kale showed me how to draw on the walls.

  As I began to process what was happening, that I was actually using my powers again, my heart stuttered. Excitement raced beneath the surface of my skin, threatening to chase away the pleasant zinging of energy. I was doing this. Really doing this.

  And I was doing it on my own.

  Trying not to rush, I finished the last two lines, and a faint mist rose from the floor around me. I stared in wonder, excitement thrumming through my veins as the light fog slowly circled toward the ceiling then dissipated.

  Not sparks and fire, but magic all the same. Holy cow! Progress at last!

  What in the world was that spell good for?

  Quickly, I scanned the passage again. Obscuring vision and disguising movements. With the right amount of focus, the fog could become thick and dense, obscuring the caster completely. Advance techniques would alter the cloud to one of ice.

  Now ice could be seriously useful. If there was a way to project that fog at someone—at Allen—it would be safer for Faye than some global disaster like a tornado. I’d have to check with the advanced books. Dimly, I remembered something that sounded familiar.

  A knock at my door jerked me upright. I scrambled to my feet, having almost forgotten Kale was coming by. I slapped the book shut, dusted my palms on my jeans, and schooled my expression into what I hoped wasn’t full of giddy elation before going to the door.

  He leaned against the doorjamb, one thumb hooked in his belt loop. “Morning.”

  “Morning.” I stepped, back allowing him to come in.

  “You’re up bright and early. Where’s Tufty?”

  At the sound of his name, my little buddy stood up on the couch, wagged his butt, and let out a quack! He peeked over the back, dark eyes expectant and bright. As had become Kale’s habit, he moved to the sofa, uncurled his fingers, and offered Tufty a broken cracker.

  Tufty devoured the bits in three seconds flat. “Quack!”

  Kale cracked a smile. “Back atcha, buddy.” Straightening, he turned to me. “I thought we’d go outside today and take a look at the grounds. I can show you some simple herbs.”

  I clasped my
hands behind my back, denying the stupid grin that threatened to surface. As if I were reciting something as mundane as brushing my teeth, I said, “I called fog this morning. Just before you got here.”

  He blinked. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  His amused expression shifted into something very close to excitement. “Congrats, Halle. That’s great! You must feel pretty accomplished.”

  Truthfully, I was so happy I could have danced a jig. But it wasn’t easy to let go, to reveal myself so clearly. I wanted to. Shoot, I wanted to throw my arms around him and thank him profusely. Something inside me, however, refused to let go that much. Instead, I shrugged. “It’s a start.”

  He wouldn’t dismiss it so easily. “A damned good start. Most people who haven’t grown up with the power take several weeks to get the hang of it. And fog isn’t particularly easy.”

  It sure hadn’t been hard. I hadn’t even realized what I was doing until I was halfway through. Again, I shrugged, uncomfortable with his praise. “Why are herbs important?”

  Kale’s bright, enthusiastic smile faded. “Why do you do that?”

  I frowned. “Do what?”

  “Deflect.”

  “I’m not deflecting.”

  He arched both eyebrows.

  “I’m not. You mentioned herbs. Why are they so important?”

  Kale folded his arms over his chest. “Why is it so important to bottle everything up inside? I can see it in your eyes, Halle. You’re proud of the fog. It’s okay to let that show.” He tipped his head, studying me, and his voice lowered. “Especially with me.”

  Matching him stubborn for stubborn, I mirrored his position. “You who throws out cryptic remarks and doesn’t bother to explain?”

  He frowned. “What cryptic remarks?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing. Can we just go see these plants of yours?” But it wasn’t nothing. I couldn’t get his parting remark from the other night out of my head. The one about my being concerned for him, not who he was. He’d meant something by it. Something he wasn’t willing to share.

  For a long moment, he stared at me as if he could read my thoughts. His expression transformed from one of severity to thoughtful scrutiny. Like he weighed whether or not I could be trusted with his secrets.

  Then, just as I began to fidget, he nodded. “Fine. Let’s go. This is your third day, and unless you’ve changed your mind with the fog success, we’ve got things to accomplish.”

  Had that fog changed my mind? I wasn’t sure. I’d accomplished something significant and I wanted to know more. But staying longer might indicate I was ready to accept the responsibility they wanted me to assume. No way could I agree to that.

  Avoiding answering, I stalked to the door. Tufty hopped off the couch, waddled along behind. When he reached the threshold, however, Kale stopped him with the toe of his boot. “Sorry, buddy. Not today. It’s not safe for you out there.”

  “Not safe?” I twisted around, pinning Kale with a quizzical look.

  “Not for ducks.”

  I let out a heavy sigh and moved back into my room. Bathtub it was then. I only hoped we returned before Tufty got too bored.

  I gathered my duck and hurried to the bathroom. After I’d run a few inches of water, taking care to keep one end shallow enough he could sit with his feet on the porcelain, I shut off the faucet and lifted him in. He made a nosedive for the deeper water, and as he splashed, I exited, taking care to shut the door firmly behind me.

  “Ready?” Kale asked quietly.

  “Yeah. Let’s get this done and get back to the library. I have work to do, and we’re running out of time.” And I want to know about this ice fog.

  “Right. Time.” With a disparaging shake of his head, he gestured for me to exit first.

  “Remember, I’m leaving?”

  His voice held an unfamiliar tone I couldn’t decipher, as he answered, “I remember.”

  I shot him a sideways glance. “Thinking of going back on your word?”

  “I don’t break my word.”

  He’d said that more than once. So far, he’d made good on it too. My thoughts swirled. Our deal was I could stay longer if I wished. And I desperately wanted to. I’d made progress but only barely. I was still as weak as a newborn when it came to using magic. Certainly no more useful to Faye. Maybe I could spare a few more days. The Frost Club would survive without me, and if I got fired for being a no-call no-show, well, it wasn’t like I had rent to pay. No one would worry. No one cared enough to notice if I went missing.

  I stared straight ahead as I let the confession slide free. “I think I’ll stay a bit longer.”

  He waited a beat before casually answering, “Okay.”

  “I’m not committing to a timeframe,” I rushed to add. “I can’t leave when Tufty is stuck like this. It wouldn’t be right.”

  From the corner of my eye I caught the way he turned his head to look at me. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Of course.”

  I shot him a wary glance. “You have to stick around though. I mean, it’s only fair since you’re directly responsible for his predicament.”

  “Right.”

  “I’m just saying, if you want me out of your hair faster, you’ll have to change him back.”

  Kale’s steps slowed, and the uplifted corner of his mouth morphed into a slow smile. “You don’t need excuses, Halle. Stay as long as you’d like.”

  The sincerity in his voice made me swallow hard. I’d never been encouraged to stay anywhere. Ugh. I was over thinking this. I had to remember Gerard wanted something from me. That’s why Kale seemed pleased. I cleared my throat. “Well, since we’ve got that worked out, let’s see these herbs.”

  His chuckle danced around me as we ascended the stairs.

  * * *

  The sun hung low on the horizon, casting lavender shadows across the fallen leaves when we finished traipsing through the woods. An odd comfortableness settled between us—odd, because for the first time in my life I felt completely at ease. Kale walked four or five steps ahead of me, while I trailed in his wake, studying the bits of greenery that poked through the autumn carpet. We’d fallen into companionable silence, and much as I didn’t want to acknowledge it, I liked spending time with him in the quiet. It was as if we were somehow tethered to each other, though we didn’t talk or touch.

  We broke through a copse of tall oaks, into a clearing where the last of summer’s white daisies drank in the fading light. He approached a thick, fallen tree trunk, swung one leg over, then the other, and sat on the lichen-covered bark. I climbed up beside him and drew my feet up, my arms wrapped around my knees. While I stared at the sinking sun, Kale rested his forearms on his knees and watched the trees across the way.

  It became obvious, as our silence stretched on, that something weighed on his mind. No matter how I tried to tell myself it wasn’t my business, I couldn’t curb the curiosity. Maybe it was just the product of spending so many hours side-by-side. Maybe it was the last few days we’d spent together, gaining little, interpersonal glimpses of one another. Whatever it was, it seemed completely natural to ask, “The other night—what did you mean when you said you didn’t want the responsibility?”

  He let out a sigh that was so long and heavy, it could have come from the depths of his soul. Bowing his head, he clasped his hands between his knees. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “But you did.”

  Another long moment of silence passed. Then Kale glanced up at the darkening sky. “They want me to take over leadership of the camarilla.”

  Say what? I squinted at him. “But I thought Gerard was in charge.”

  “He is. For now. But his abilities aren’t what they used to be. He weakens each day. That’s why he married Beth. She won’t be able to keep him strong forever.” He let out a soft snort. “And they expect me to fall into line as the loyal son.”

  “And you don’t want
to.”

  He chuckled. “I’d rather saw off my hands with rusty blades.”

  “Why?” Disbelief sharpened my voice. “You’re an amazing teacher. You’re smart. You know how to convince people into seeing things your way. Hell, I’m here. That’s saying something.”

  A lazy grin took up residence on his face as he tipped his head to look at me. “Remind me, if I’m ever feeling insecure, that you know how to stroke a guy’s ego.”

  At that, I had to laugh. “You are so far from insecure.”

  “Am I?”

  The quiet, disbelieving tone of his voice stifled my humor. I looked into his gaze, lost myself in those vivid sky blue eyes. Under their power, words became more difficult, though I managed to choke out a few. “You went to fight the banshee without hesitation.”

  “That’s my duty.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured, still trapped by the shifting colors in his gaze. “But you didn’t hesitate to stand up to Gerard and the others at that meeting.”

  “He’s my father.”

  I swallowed with effort, fighting down the sudden awareness of how close we sat beside one another. Of the heat that radiated from his body and warmed the evening chill off mine. “You’ve…never taken no for an answer in all my lessons.”

  His gaze shifted, studying my features before locking with mine once again. When he spoke, his voice lowered to an intimate whisper. “Why should I, when I sense what you’re capable of? You’re so strong, Halle. So inspiring.”

  A nervous chuckle escaped me. “My powers are pathetic.”

  Slowly, his hand lifted. Roughened fingertips brushed across my cheek, fitted beneath the line of my jaw. “I’m not talking about your magic. I mean you.”

  Me? What on earth—

  The shock of his warm mouth brushing against mine chased away my thoughts. His lips lingered hesitantly, and the fall of his breath warmed my cheek. I should have pulled away. Should have scrambled off the rock and dashed back to the camarilla’s cave.

  But no amount of logic filtered into my brain. The softness of his mouth wove a spell around me, and I gently clasped his lips in return. Tension settled into his hand, tightening his fingers against my jaw bone. Holding me in place as he traced the seam of my mouth with the tip of his tongue.