Binding the Shadows

by Jenn Bennett

  He continued to mumble to himself, exasperated but fully intent on solving the mystery inside my palm. I nibbled the back of his neck playfully. He giggled and shoved me back with the side of his head. We were laughing. It was all good. Then, out of absolutely nowhere, I started crying.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  Jupe dropped my hand in alarm. “I didn’t mean it. You’re not going to die three times.”

  I covered my face with my hands and slouched in my seat. “I don’t even . . . know why I’m . . .” I gritted my teeth and groaned, forcing back tears. I felt so out of control, like I could lose it completely at any moment.

  I couldn’t just break down like this. I mean, so what if my mom really was alive? She was on another plane. She couldn’t touch me here. And if we shared some sort of connection through the stupid Moonchild power—God only knew what sort of ritual magick she’d conjured up when conceiving me—then I’d either find a way to sever it, or just stop using it completely.

  I took a few deep breaths. Lon and Jupe were staring at me in that Oh-Shit, Female-Is-Crying sort of way. “I’m fine,” I said, sniffing and brushing tears off my cheeks. “I’m fine.

  “Maybe you’re, you know.” Jupe squinted at me knowingly.

  “Know what?”

  He gave me a superior look. “Oh, you know. ‘That time.’ ” He made air quotations with one hand. “Women get weird then. I’ve noticed a lot of girls crying at school on the same days. Kiya said it’s because when girls spend a lot of time around each other, they start to, you know, on the same schedule.”

  “Well, right now I’m not, ‘you knowing,’ ” I air quoted him back. “But thanks for teaching me about my own body.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said seriously. “See. I’m learning all kinds of things at school. Last year none of the girls were crying. But this year? Whew! Watch out, buddy.”

  “Why does God hate me?” Lon murmured.

  The SUV began its familiar ascent up the dark roads that led to Lon’s secluded cliff-top property. Soft moonlight filtered through pines and redwoods. I blew out a breath and relaxed in my seat as a mind-numbing exhaustion settled over me. I wasn’t going to think about my mom anymore. Tomorrow we’d track down this Noel Saint-Hill in Morella. Maybe I’d even just do the normal thing and file charges against him. Let the police handle it. Not try to fix things with magick for once.

  Two roads led to Lon’s house: a zigzag deathtrap of a road that visitors used—and on which I’d once wrecked my car and been chased down by an Æthyric demon sent to kill me—and a hidden side road that only family used. Both roads led to locked gates that required either a key code or a remote to enter. But the side road gate’s auto-open feature had broken last week. You had to get out and open the gate manually, then shut it behind you once you drove inside; the guy who installed it was supposed to fix it soon.

  Jupe had closed it when we left for the racetrack, but it was now open.

  “Lon,” I said, sitting up straighter. My galloping pulse cleared the emotional fuzz from my brain. “The gate.”

  “It’s fine.”

  The only other people who used it were the housekeepers who lived on Lon’s property, Mr. and Mrs. Holiday. And they were more anal about security than Lon.

  “I know I latched it,” Jupe protested. “You think a wild animal knocked it open? Maybe an Imp?” A circular magical ward kept the acre around Lon’s house safe from intruders and Imps: small transparent demons that have the ability to pop back and forth between the planes—the only known entity with a free pass to travel at will. They were like ghostly cockroaches, irritating but harmless.

  But we’d just crossed over the house ward, so it couldn’t be Imps.

  “Maybe it was Foxglove,” Jupe suggested.

  “Dogs can’t open gates,” Lon said as he stopped the car. “Go shut it.”

  “What if something’s out there?”

  Hey, I didn’t blame the kid. These cliffs were heavily wooded, and Lon owned ten acres of property. The only other souls up here were the Holidays. It was peaceful, but kind of creepy at moments like this. “I’ll shut it,” I said, jumping out of the SUV.

  I scoured the dark woods around me as I walked. It was quiet and serene. A biting wind whispered through the brush and scattered the scent of cypress and dead leaves. If I stopped to listen, I’d hear the surf crashing against the rocks half a mile down the cliff below. But I didn’t want to try, not when I felt this creeped out. I thought of the man hiding in the shadows of the racetrack parking lot and moved faster. The gate screeched as I swung it shut and latched the handle. I hurried back to the yellow-lit interior of the SUV and slowed when I heard Jupe make a joyous noise. Lon shushed him.

  “Okay, okay,” Jupe protested.

  I stopped in front of my open door. Both of them stared back at me, wide-eyed, like they’d been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “What the hell is going on?” I asked.

  “Get in,” Lon said.

  “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

  “It’s nothing. Just get in.”

  A horrible worry cramped my stomach, but I got inside and shut the door.

  Lon shifted into gear and drove toward the house, a modern long-lined construction of stack stone and plate glass. Very Frank Lloyd Wright. Expensive but not showy. It sprawled on a section of cleared land that overlooked the Pacific, with stunning views. But right now it was the house itself that was worrying me. I could see movement inside the golden light outlining the oversized windows. I’d usually assume it was just the Holidays. They came and went freely, and their snug cabin-style house was only a short walk down another side road.

  But when I spotted the strange white Mercedes parked behind Lon’s dusty pickup truck in the circular driveway in front of the house, I started to sweat.

  “Whose car is that? Is that a rental? That’s a rental. Is that car from the airport?”

  Lon pulled up behind it. “Now listen. I didn’t know. Mrs. Holiday just called me.”

  Jupe squealed in delight. “Cady, you are going to love them!” He opened his door before the SUV came to a complete stop and leapt out, then ran up the path to the dark red front doors.

  “What’s going on?” I was close to sobbing again. Could this night get any worse?

  Jupe’s voice carried to the SUV as he flung the double doors open. “Gramma!”

  “Oh, God,” I said. “Why are they early? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Rose didn’t warn me. She does this sometimes.”

  Rose Giovanni, aka Gramma. Lon’s ex-wife’s mother. And she was with Yvonne’s sister, Adella. Lon’s in-laws. Jupe’s real family. Send me back to the racetrack. I could deal with a supernatural fight. I could not deal with interpersonal family relations. Not yet. I needed more time to prepare.

  I stepped out of the car in a daze. Lon walked around to my side. “I didn’t know,” he insisted, forcing me to look at him. “Hey. Stop worrying.”

  “But I’m the enemy,” I whispered. “I’m Yvonne’s replacement. I’m young. I’m a dirty stinking magician.”

  He lifted my chin up. “You’ll win them over.”

  “Ugh.”

  “Give them time to get to know you. They’ll accept you.”

  I grunted.

  “If you need time to go upstairs and get cleaned up, I’ll go in first. Come down when you’re ready, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Just remember, Rose can hear through walls.”

  Clairaudient. Worst knack ever. I feigned a small weeping noise.

  Lon pulled me close. “We’ll figure out what’s going on with your Moonchild power. And we’ll hunt down the rat who robbed you tomorrow. Can’t do much tonight anyway.” He kissed me softly, first on the lips, then on the tip of my nose. “Mmm?”

  I nodded, and we made our way to the front door.

  Giddy talk and laughter rang though the house as we stepped inside the foyer. My gaze
swept over the living room as Lon walked toward the commotion.

  The Butler home was minimally decorated, lots of pale wood and long, low seating. White lights covered the branches of the World’s Biggest Christmas Tree. It was heavy with Jupe’s ornaments (some were made in elementary school, some were miniature plastic models of comic book characters he collected) and took up half a floor-to-ceiling window.

  Sliding doors led to an expansive deck in back. I could see figures reflected in the glass there. And as Lon rounded the foyer hallway wall, I paused, scoping out the visitors before they saw me.

  At first, all I saw were the twin white-bobbed heads of Mr. and Mrs. Holiday. They weren’t actually a Mr. and Mrs.—that was just what Jupe had called them since he was a kid, and the names stuck. In actuality, they were two women in their late sixties. They looked like Martha Stewart stand-ins. They treated Jupe as if he were their own grandchild, and I was pretty fond of them and their no-bullshit attitudes. Right now, they were laughing with the Giovannis as if they were all best of friends. Mrs. Holiday moved out of the way, and I caught my first glimpse of the in-laws.

  Yvonne’s younger sister Adella was as I imagined: tall and willowy, with a dark mass of curls very similar to Jupe’s restrained by a wide purple scarf. Pretty in an understated way. She wore a sheath dress the color of wine, and a long string of mismatched metallic beads. Her complexion was darker than Yvonne’s, a deep cinnamon-warmed brown. Round cheeks shone under the living room lights as she laughed. Jupe was flexing his barely-there arm muscles for her. “Feel that!”

  She pinched his upper arm. “Here? Or here? Tell me when you’re ready to flex.”

  “I’m flexing!” He gave up and tackled her around the waist, trying to lift her off the ground. “Urgggh! Damn, Auntie. Have you gained weight?”

  She reached across his back and slapped him playfully. “Let go of me, fool, and give me a proper kiss, or you’re not getting any of Gramma’s blackberry bars.”

  His head shot up as he turned to look over his shoulder. “Youmadeblackberrybars?”

  “Kiss. Now.” Adella pulled his face to hers and kissed him loudly on the lips, their green halos and springy curls briefly mingling.

  He hugged her tight, grunting with the effort. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  A funny feeling fluttered inside my chest. And as if she sensed this, Jupe’s black lab, Foxglove, trotted around the corner and jumped up on my legs, panting in my face happily as she greeted me. I scratched her behind one floppy ear and peeped around the corner, watching Lon strolling over to his ex-mother-in-law.

  “I told you not to bring a shitload of sugar in this house, Rose.”

  “And I told you to stop swearing in front of my precious grandbaby, so I guess it all equals out.”

  Cropped, silver-white hair fanned around Rose Giovanni’s slim face. The woman may have been in her sixties, but she was stunning. It was easy to see where Yvonne got her supermodel looks.

  She wore stylish glasses and was dressed in a pale green pantsuit that matched her halo. Adella’s halo. Jupe’s halo. And even from across the room, I could see Jupe’s green eyes beneath her glasses—which were even more startling paired with her darker skin. I always assumed Jupe inherited Lon’s eyes, just a lighter shade, but now I wasn’t so sure. Lon once told me that Rose’s parents were from the Caribbean. Puzzle pieces fitted into place.

  Lon dipped his head and kissed Rose on the check. She wound an arm around him and rubbed his back. “Not mad we came early, are you?”

  “Are you joking?” Jupe answered for him. “It’s an awesome surprise, Gramma. Winter break starts tomorrow, so I’m all yours. And now we have three days before Christmas Eve, and there’s all kinds of junk we can do.”

  “Anything you want.”

  “Anything? I’ll make a list. And the number one thing will be for me to demonstrate my persuasion knack for you.” Jupe squinted one eye shut and wiggled his fingers dramatically, like he was a stage magician using fake mind powers.

  “Absolutely not,” Lon said.

  “But they’ve only heard about it. I want to show them.”

  “No, you want to show off,” Adella said. “Plenty of time for that later.”

  “Listen to your auntie.” Lon smiled at Adella and reached to hug her, arms loosely encircling her. She mumbled something against his ear; he kissed her on the forehead in response. They were casual and comfortable around each other. Affectionate. I never saw Lon act that way with anyone but me and Jupe. Never. It made me wonder how Lon and Yvonne acted when they were together. And that thought made me a little nauseous.

  “Wait, where’s—” Jupe’s gaze found mine before I could sneak upstairs. “Cady! Com’ere, com’ere!”

  All faces looked my way. My stomach dropped three stories. Nothing I could do now.

  Jupe strode to my side and tugged me into the middle of everything. My hair was sweaty around my nape. My jacket had dirty streaks on the sleeve from rolling around on the ground at the racetrack. And my eyes were red and puffy from crying. I’m sure I made a great first impression.

  “Everybody, this . . . is Cady.”

  Jupe said my name like it was fifty feet high and studded in lights, but the reception was decidedly mixed. Rose stared at me without saying a word. Adella stepped forward and offered her hand. “So good to finally meet you.” She sandwiched my hand between both of hers and gave me a sweet smile.

  “You, too,” I said. “Jupe talks about you—”

  “Constantly?” she guessed. “Because I get weekly updates about you. ‘Cady this. Cady that.’ ”

  Jupe almost looked embarrassed, but he really didn’t have it in him to be shy. “You told me I talk about movies too much, so what else am I going to say? Geez.”

  She winked at him. “Anything you tell me, I’m happy to hear. Besides, I talk about art all the time.”

  I remembered that Adella taught art history at the University of Portland. “Is the semester done? All your classes, I mean.”

  “Yes, thank goodness. Finals graded, and all my meetings finished. The students fled the campus yesterday like they were outrunning a tornado.”

  At thirty-five, Adella was ten years older than me, and a handful of years younger than her sister, Yvonne (who was in her early forties, like Lon). She had a kind face. In other circumstances, I would’ve liked her immediately. And I did, but it was tainted with self-doubt and worry that she wouldn’t accept me, despite how nice she was being. Looking at her mother, that worrisome feeling intensified.

  “And this is my Gramma,” Jupe said proudly.

  Rose Giovanni didn’t offer her hand. Just coolly looked me over, eyes blinking rapidly. For every inch of my body she examined, I think I shrank two. She might be the demon, but I certainly felt like the devil in the room.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I said, wondering if I should add “ma’am.” Or would that be insulting? Better play it safe and keep my mouth shut.

  She stared above my head. “There’s that silver halo we’ve heard about.”

  “Yes.”

  “A real live witch, huh?”

  “Magician,” I corrected.

  She made a little I’m-not-impressed noise, then glanced at the dirt streaks on my sleeve.

  I looked down at them as well. “It’s . . . been a bad night.”

  “Oh?” She pushed metal-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose with one polished nail, then turned to Lon and lifted a brow. “What happened?”

  Great. She’d officially cut me out of the conversation.

  “Cady’s bar got robbed earlier this week,” Lon said.

  “Oh dear,” she said. “A dangerous business, I’m sure. Open all night, attracting the wrong element. Like owning a liquor store.”

  A mild spark of irritation pushed away my initial self-consciousness. “We’re open until two, and we’ve never been robbed before.”

  “Tambuku is the most awesome bar in Morella, Gramma,” Jupe sai
d.

  “I’d love to see it,” Adella said. “I teach a class on Polynesian art every summer.”

  I didn’t think our Tahiti Tropicana pinball machine was going to impress her, but at least she was being nice. I started to answer her, but Rose cut me off. “There’s nothing ‘awesome’ about a bar, Jupiter. Drinking leads to misery.”

  Somewhere behind me Lon mumbled, “Christ, I think I need a drink right now.”

  “It’s not like that,” Jupe protested. “Right Cady?”

  “Bartending isn’t a respectable profession,” Rose said.

  I’d never felt ashamed about what I did for a living, and I wasn’t about to start now. If this woman was trying to take me down a few notches, she’d have to try a little harder. “I’m a good bartender. I police my bar and stay aware of how much I’m serving people. When a patron’s crossed the line, I cut them off and call a cab.”

  “But you still serve them, don’t you? And just because they get in a cab doesn’t mean they don’t go somewhere else and do stupid things. No good comes from drink.”

  I suddenly realized what she was getting at. Yvonne’s stints in rehab—her public struggle with drugs and alcohol. Car accidents and gambling debts, all of it fueling tabloid headlines back when she was still working as a model. I didn’t know if she’d sobered up recently; Lon and Jupe didn’t talk about her. And the media had lost interest in an aging supermodel that hadn’t worked for years.

  The Giovanni family had disowned Yvonne. Rose had bonded with Lon over Jupe and chosen them over her own daughter. I knew this was a sensitive subject. I didn’t want to upset Jupe, but I didn’t want to back down, either.

  I straightened and locked gazes with her. “I can make a good guess as to why you feel that way, but don’t make the mistake of confusing me with your daughter.”

  She flinched in surprise before staring me down like she could will me to burst into flames. The room was uncomfortably quiet for several beats.