Psychic? Maybe. He didn’t know which was worse, admitting that witches were real, or that the woman he’d hoped would become a permanent part of his life had some sort of strange psychic abilities. A few days ago, he would have dismissed both possibilities as equally unlikely. But something very strange had just happened, something that had given Jenny McAllister the ability to see directly into his mind, to see everything he’d kept hidden from her.
Computer hacker, he thought then as his brain attempted to come up with something that made sense. That’s nice and plausible.
And equally unlikely. He hadn’t brought his laptop with him this weekend, just his phone. Besides, most of the notes he’d put together while investigating the McAllisters and the puzzle of their existence, he’d written longhand, an artifact from his days in college when he’d done most of his work with pen and paper. The computer he’d had back then was old and unreliable, and after losing a term paper — and almost getting an F in the class because of it — he’d always done his first drafts the old-fashioned way, only putting them in the computer when they were more or less finished.
Anyway, there really wasn’t anything for Jenny to hack. All right, she could have done some investigating on her own and discovered that he worked for the Daily Sun, but that was the only thing she would have been able to find out. He didn’t even have his photo posted on the paper’s website, due to a request he’d made when the divorce had started to get ugly. So all she’d have was a name, and “Colin Campbell” wasn’t all that unique. There were two other men with that name in Tucson, and seven more in the greater Phoenix area. He knew, because he’d checked.
So that put him back more or less to the beginning, and the possibility that the girl he thought he might be falling in love with just happened to be a witch.
A witch who hates your guts, he thought, and drank some more bitter coffee. It seemed to be a perfect match to his mood.
All he could was hope, as he swung down out of the darkness and into the glitter of the Phoenix suburbs, was that she wasn’t planning some sort of spectacular revenge.
* * *
They all sat in the living room of Bryce McAllister’s big restored Victorian. Jenny really wished this meeting could have taken place almost anywhere else, because ever since she was a little girl, she’d been intimidated by Bryce. Part of her reaction to him was due to his brusque manner, she knew, but she’d never felt comfortable around him. For all she knew, the three elders had decided to meet here exactly because it was the one place in Jerome that Jenny was least likely to feel at all comfortable.
Not that she would have felt comfortable even if they’d gathered at her Aunt Tricia’s house. Tricia was definitely in “elder” mode, mouth tight and blue eyes worried, the laugh lines around them more pronounced than usual. Allegra Moss looked more distracted than anything else, but Jenny hadn’t expected much more than that from her.
With the way the three elders sat on the floral chintz couch — something that had to have been chosen by Bryce’s wife Meg — with Jenny in the armchair opposite and staring at them across the coffee table, she felt all the more as if she was facing down a tribunal.
In a way she was, she supposed, although there wasn’t that much they’d really be able to do to her. It wasn’t as if they could throw her out of the clan. But being ostracized and ignored often worked just as well at letting a wrongdoer know how much they’d truly screwed up.
The day outside was gloomy and cold, threatening rain. Maybe that was why a shiver worked its way down her back, even though the room itself felt warm enough.
“A reporter,” Bryce said, then shook his head. The amount of disgust he’d been able to inject into that one simple word was actually kind of impressive. “What were you thinking, Jenny?”
Well, she hadn’t been thinking. Not really. She’d let herself succumb to her attraction for Colin without doing any due diligence. Yes, people in witch clans got involved with civilians, but not without performing some background checks first to make sure there weren’t any red flags that might make such a connection dangerous. And she hadn’t even asked the name of the company where Colin worked, for Goddess’ sake.
Not that it really mattered, she supposed. He would have just handed her another lie.
“I didn’t know he was a reporter,” she said, and despite vowing to herself earlier that morning as she got dressed that she wouldn’t lose her temper, would be calm and controlled and utterly dispassionate, even she could hear the edge to her voice. “You know how my ability works — or, more to the point, doesn’t work. It’s not as if I can just dip into people’s minds whenever I feel like it. He told me he worked in corporate communications, and I believed him.” She paused, then added, “I didn’t have any reason not to.”
Silence. The three elders exchanged glances, but Jenny couldn’t read much from their expressions. Even Tricia’s pretty face was blank and cold. Jenny supposed she’d been hoping for a little more compassion from her aunt. Then again, elders had to be impartial. True, everyone here was related to everyone else in one way or another, but some connections were closer than others. Tricia McAllister couldn’t allow her feelings for her niece to get in the way now.
“Besides,” Jenny went on, even though she knew the argument she was about to present wouldn’t earn her any points, “it wasn’t as if anyone at the reception pointed him out as a gate crasher. He was sitting there in a room full of McAllisters and Wilcoxes and de la Pazes, and not one person seemed to notice that he shouldn’t have been there.”
“So you’re saying it’s their fault?” Bryce’s eyes were positively glacial beneath his heavy gray-flecked eyebrows.
“Of course not,” Jenny replied. “I’m just saying that expecting me to think he was anything except what he said he was, when no one else seemed to notice anything strange about him, is a bit much.”
Allegra Moss spoke then. “Maybe it is. And I’m sure we’ll have some questions for the Trujillos and the de la Pazes before this is over. But I think — and I’m sure Tricia and Bryce will agree with me — that the most important thing right now is to do some damage control before we start casting blame on anyone.”
From the way Bryce scowled at her remark, Jenny got the feeling he was all too willing to start assigning blame, even if in the end that sort of activity wasn’t terribly productive. But Tricia gave a weary nod, saying, “Allegra’s right. Did this Colin Campbell give any indication that he was planning to publicize what he’d learned?”
“No,” Jenny said. At least that was one thing she hadn’t seen during that blazing lightning-flash look into his mind. She’d seen a lot, but absolutely nothing about trying to do anything with the information he’d gathered so far. “I got the impression that he was just trying to satisfy his own curiosity.”
“And it was the incident in the parking lot at that mall in Phoenix that set things off?” Bryce asked, picking up the thread of what Jenny had told her aunt on the phone earlier that morning, when she called to tell her what had happened with Colin.
“I think so. I guess whatever that de la Paz detective — ”
“Jack Sandoval,” Tricia supplied, surprising Jenny a little. But then she told herself it made sense. Caitlin was a de la Paz by marriage now. It was only natural that her mother would know a good deal about the various members of the family.
Jenny nodded. “Right. So anyway, I know he did something to the two women who were in the next parking row over, something to make them forget they’d seen or heard anything. Luckily, they were the only ones close enough to have noticed something strange was going on. But whatever he did to them, obviously it didn’t last forever. One of the women approached Colin at his paper because she saw the wedding announcement, and something clicked. I guess she went to him because he was the one who covered the trial.” She stopped then, because every time she remembered sitting in the courtroom at Matías Escobar’s sentencing, she felt physically ill. There hadn’t been a single
speck of remorse in those cold black eyes of his.
Whereas Colin had been all remorse. And regret. And a good deal of self-directed anger for not just biting the bullet and telling her the truth. Which Jenny supposed was all well and good, but it didn’t change what he’d done. Every single moment they’d shared, every smile and embrace…and more…was now tainted because of the lies he’d told her.
“I’ll talk to Luz about that,” Tricia said. “I know she assured me afterward that any witnesses wouldn’t be able to remember anything of what they’d seen. Jack is supposed to be very good at that sort of thing.”
“Not good enough, looks like,” Boyd grumbled.
Allegra and Tricia both frowned. The effect of them frowning in tandem might have been amusing if the situation hadn’t been so serious, since otherwise they were a study in contrasts, Allegra with her messy gray-blonde topknot, and Tricia with her perfectly styled bob. Brows still pulled together, Tricia said, “Well, there could be extenuating circumstances. If the woman who went to see Colin was sufficiently strong-willed, it’s very possible the effects of the forgetting charm might have begun to fade with time. We just don’t know for sure, and it’s not as if we can go talk to her…or to Colin Campbell.”
For some reason, Tricia’s words calmed Jenny a bit. She’d been worrying that the elders would make her confront Colin or, worse, that they would go see him themselves to get to the bottom of his intentions. However, it seemed as if they were willing to go on the intelligence provided by the quick flash Jenny had had into his mind.
“Maybe,” Bryce said in grudging tones. It seemed clear enough that he wasn’t willing to give Jack Sandoval the benefit of the doubt. “Even so, that’s a serious breach of security right there.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Bryce,” Allegra said. “You make it sound as if we’re working at the Pentagon or something.” Wearing what she probably thought was a reassuring smile, she shifted toward Jenny and went on, “Did Colin actually witness anything that would provide positive proof that we’re not your ordinary family?”
“You mean besides me being able to tell him everything about himself, including what he had for breakfast?” Jenny replied dryly.
“Well, yes, besides that.”
Jenny folded her hands on her lap. There wasn’t much, but…. “He talked to Maisie.”
“The ghost?” Tricia asked, eyes widening slightly. “But how — ”
“I don’t know,” Jenny said. “From what I saw in his mind, he talked to her like she was really there. The same way that Angela talks to our ghosts. I can’t explain it, because I know that Colin Campbell is one hundred percent civilian. He’s not witch-kind, and he doesn’t have any sort of psychic abilities. Yet he managed to do something that none of the rest of us — except Angela — are able to do.”
Once again the three elders exchanged eloquent looks. It seemed obvious enough to Jenny that they were more or less flummoxed but really didn’t want to admit it to her — or each other.
“Anyway,” she continued, “because he saw Maisie, and because she disappeared right in front of his eyes, meaning he couldn’t explain her away as a reenactor or someone who just liked dressing up in Edwardian clothes, he could tell something completely outside his regular experience had happened. He’s not the type of person to believe in the paranormal. But Maisie was proof that the world was a much stranger place than he thought. And because of that particular realization, it wasn’t that big a leap to realize something was a little off about us McAllisters.”
“That’s…unfortunate,” Tricia said after a long, uncomfortable pause. “But still, it’s not as if he has any concrete proof.”
“What does that matter to places like the National Enquirer or the Weekly World News?” Bryce shot back. “All they need is the smallest whiff that something is a little strange, and they’re plastering it all over their ridiculous papers. And then the damage is done. Everything we’ve tried to keep secret all these years is displayed for the whole world to see.”
“Colin doesn’t work for the Enquirer,” Jenny pointed out, a little surprised at herself for coming to Colin Campbell’s defense. “He works for the Tucson Daily Sun.”
“I don’t see much of a difference.”
Jenny sent a beseeching glance in her aunt’s direction, and Tricia appeared to relent slightly. “Bryce, I think there’s a very big difference.” She hesitated, then went on, “Still, how sure can you be, Jenny, that he won’t change his mind about letting other people know what he’s found out? You said you threw him out in basically the middle of the night. That sort of thing could make him want to retaliate in some way, even though of course you were completely in the right.”
Would Colin retaliate, betray her family’s confidence because he was angry with her? Jenny wanted to think that he’d just let the matter go, but she wasn’t sure. After all, he’d had the balls to crash a stranger’s wedding, just to investigate whether there really was more to the groom than met the eye.
After a long pause, she lifted her shoulders, feeling more helpless than ever. “I don’t know what he’ll do,” she said. “I just don’t know.”
* * *
Monday mornings generally sucked enough on their own. A Monday morning after being thrown out on your ear by the girl you were falling in love with — that really sucked. As in super-massive black hole kind of sucking.
Colin had woken up long before the alarm on his phone was programmed to go off. Thinking it might be better to get to work early and therefore escape any unwanted chitchat with his coworkers in the break room, he’d gone ahead and showered and dressed, and arrived at the Daily Sun’s office a good forty-five minutes early.
That strategy had worked…up to a point. At approximately ten minutes after eight, Ryan Ortiz came and propped himself up against the doorframe to Colin’s office and said, “So, how was the hot date?”
Colin threw a balled-up piece of paper into the trashcan in the corner. About all he’d accomplished so far was to doodle all over the yellow pad he kept on his desk, the one where he was supposed to be writing down ideas for his next in-depth investigation. Tucson’s criminal element had been relatively quiet over the weekend, and so he didn’t have anything assigned in terms of what he mentally referred to as the “ambulance chaser” type of article. At slow times like this, he’d go pitch something a little more involved to his editor, see what Ned was on board with. Unfortunately, Colin’s mind was a perfect blank this morning. He’d never been less motivated to do the work that had once been his passion.
Without looking over at his colleague, Colin said, “She hates me and wants me dead.”
“In other words, a typical Saturday night for you.”
If his current dire situation hadn’t involved Jenny McAllister, Colin might have laughed. Instead, he scowled and said, “Not helping.”
“Sorry, man.” Ryan paused and watched Colin for a long moment, as if attempting to glean more information from his expression. “You want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” After all, what in the world could he say? I lied to her about who I was, and she found out because she’s a psychic from a family of witches. The usual. That wouldn’t fly, for several reasons. First of all, he knew he’d never utter one word about the real truth behind the McAllister clan to anyone. He might have betrayed Jenny already, but he wasn’t going to compound his sins by revealing the secrets her family had worked so hard to hide. Second, even if he was the kind of asshole who would go telling tales out of school, Ryan would never believe him. His friend was even more hardheaded about that sort of thing than Colin was. Or rather, than he’d been up until Saturday night. Talking to ghosts and seeing your would-be girlfriend exhibit insane psychic powers tended to blow that whole “skeptic” thing out of the water.
Ryan shifted his weight from one foot to another, and appeared as if he intended to press the issue. But then he took another look at Colin’s face and seemed to realize that way led madne
ss, or at least the kind of argument you didn’t want to have in the workplace. So he shrugged and said, “Okay. But I’m willing to listen if you want to talk about it later.”
Then he headed off toward his own office. Colin couldn’t relax, though. He kept replaying his time with Jenny McAllister in his head, stopping at key moments to ponder whether that had been the perfect time when he should have told her the truth, or whether it would have been better the next day over breakfast, or —
He shut that line of thought down. What good would it do now to continually keep second-guessing himself? All he could do as this point was try to get his head screwed on straight so he could do his work. The last thing he needed was to put his job on the line because he was so completely preoccupied with Jenny McAllister.
Because he knew he didn’t currently possess the sort of analytical skills required for anything more demanding, Colin pulled up the list of leads that the overnight team had put out on the server. Nothing terribly spectacular, but following up on a string of vandalism incidents in the upscale neighborhood of Skyline Estates would at least keep him occupied for a while. He knew he needed to keep busy. Otherwise, he’d be far too tempted to plead the sudden onset of a migraine or food poisoning, just so he could leave work, get in his car, and drive all the way back to Jerome. Pound on Jenny McAllister’s door until she was forced to come out and listen to him…and then have him arrested for stalking. For all he knew, local law enforcement was filled with their family members so anything unusual could be kept off the public record.
Even if that wasn’t true, he had a feeling that Jenny and the rest of her witch family would probably blast him all the way back to Tucson.
Sighing, he pulled up the meager info on the vandalism story, and started to make some calls.
14
She hadn’t thought it would be like this. After all, she’d been through plenty of breakups. It always hurt for a while, and then she’d be back to drifting through her life as if the relationship had never happened. A few tears, a few days of self-recriminations, trying to figure out what she’d done wrong this time, but it never lasted.
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