by Scott Tracey
Maybe Jason saw what was coming before it happened. His eyes narrowed, and I saw the magic he’d started drawing to him.
I’d drawn much, much more than he had, and I pushed it out all at once. It ripped through Jason’s spell before it had time to gain a form, and shoved him back down into the chair. “At least Catherine was a bitch to my face.”
I threw on a shirt and a pair of jeans. My phone and keys were on the nightstand by my bed, and I scooped them up as I moved for the door. Jason hadn’t recovered by the time I slammed the door behind me. And he didn’t appear before the elevator doors closed around me.
I sank to the cold tile floor of the elevator, and watched the floor numbers gradually descend.
¤ ¤ ¤
I’d managed to pull myself back onto my feet by the time the elevator reached the lobby. I wasn’t nauseous anymore, but it was almost like the memory of feeling that way was enough to start the process all over again.
The guy at the desk eyed me as I headed out the front doors, but I soon forgot about him. I focused on my phone, and scrolling down the pitiful address book to call home.
“What’s wrong?” John demanded immediately.
I hesitated. A part of me wanted to drop to the ground and lose it, expecting that he’d come in and fix everything. But that wasn’t who I was anymore.
“What do you know about Lucien? I mean, really know?”
Silence from the other end, and although I heard his breath catch a few times, he never actually started to speak.
“You can’t tell me anything either?” I closed my eyes and looked up toward the sky. Absolutely perfect.
Finally, after several more moments of some sort of struggle, Uncle John managed to spit out, “What’s happening?”
What was happening? I still wasn’t sure. Something about Lucien was bothering me, but I didn’t know enough to know what it was. “Something’s wrong. I don’t know, I had this dream about him last night that was all strange. And he’s told me one thing, but he’s telling Jason something else. And I think he was telling you something, too. Wasn’t he?”
More silence. It’s impossible to actually hear someone go red in the face, but I almost thought I could.
That’s when the inspiration struck me. “You can’t tell me the truth,” I said slowly. “But you can lie, can’t you?”
John didn’t say anything, and I wondered if I was completely off base. But I had to try. He inhaled, and I waited. “It doesn’t work like that,” he said finally, the words leaked in a rush.
“Catherine doesn’t have any clue who I am,” I said, lowering my voice. I’d walked over to the town square, and was sitting at one of the benches facing the fountain. The square was deserted on a Sunday morning, but I didn’t want to take any chances. “But someone’s definitely been after me since I’ve gotten to town. They’re having me followed, and I think they’re using magic,” I said, thinking back to the weird shadow images I’d been seeing.
“When I was growing up, and my brother and I would fight,” Uncle John said, “he’d never wait around if I pissed him off. He’d beat me bloody, but he was always up front about it. And when it was over, all was forgiven.”
The story came out of nowhere, and I almost questioned him in confusion. But then I stopped myself. Uncle John wasn’t allowed to tell me anything useful, but maybe he wasn’t completely helpless.
“So if it was Jason trying to scare me,” I said slowly, trying to put the pieces together, “you think he’d be more up front about it?”
I waited for silence. Expected silence. Silence would have confirmed my theory. “I haven’t said anything,” John said immediately.
Crap. Did that mean I was wrong? Or that I was right, and the question had edged too close to whatever was wrong with him?
“Braden,” he said, sounding more upset, “I can’t help you with this. Not now. You just have to trust in yourself. Remember where you come from, and what you know.”
On my own. I sat with that for a minute. What I needed was help. And information. I knew exactly where to turn.
¤ ¤ ¤
“Braden? What’s the matter?” Riley hurried across the square, accompanied by her own personal armband percussions. “You’re freaking me out.”
I’d curled up on the side of the fountain. I needed to tell someone. I couldn’t stand the lies anymore, and everything they were doing to me. Anything, just so I could figure it all out in my head. “Everything’s gone to hell.”
“If this was any other town,” Riley’s voice was dubious, “I’d think you were being metaphorical. But since it’s not, just one question. What did Jade do now?”
“Jason Thorpe is my father.” The moment I said the words, it felt like everyone else in the square turned to look at me. But I was too ashamed to look up and meet their eyes. I dropped my head back down.
“Your … wait … your … ” Riley sputtered. Her eyes were wide, and she grabbed at me.
“Father,” I supplied. “Dad. Parent. Paternal relation. Genetic donor.”
It took the normally hyper girl a minute to process. I could relate. I was still struggling. “You talked to him?”
I lifted my head. “He showed up this morning like we were best friends.”
“But Jason doesn’t have any kids. Just a son that … ” Riley trailed off, as she put the pieces together.
I didn’t need to see her face to know what she was thinking. “Yeah, apparently I got snuck out of town to hide me from Catherine and everything going on here.”
“Does anyone else know?”
I shook my head. “Just Jason. And his lawyer, too. And now you.”
Riley leaned back. “God,” she breathed. “It’s kinda cool, though. Don’t you think? Jason’s got loads of money, and you can pretty much do what you want.” She grimaced. “You don’t need to be Jade’s pet project anymore.”
“I’m not.” Riley’s issue with Jade was none of my business. “She’s my friend.”
Her skin flushed, and she looked away. “I’m just saying.”
I’d hurt her feelings. “Sorry, but it’s not like that.” I sighed, looking up toward the sky. “I just had to tell someone.”
“Why is it such a big deal?”
“I just need to figure some stuff out. Maybe why they’re both so amped up about the other one.”
“Like why the feud’s such a big deal?” Riley asked, and I nodded. “Always has been. But if you’re looking for answers about it, I know a guy. He runs a comic book shop, and knows more about the weird stuff in town than even I do.”
Of course it would come back to Gregory. “Yeah, we’ve met.”
Riley closed her mouth and nodded. She had the strangest look on her face, a mix of surprise and shock. I wasn’t sure what it meant. “Come on, it’s only a couple blocks.”
Gregory’s was closed when we got there. The lights in the building were on, and according to the sign they should have been open, but the door was still locked. Weird.
“There’s something you should know,” Riley said, but I wasn’t really listening. I had a feeling that Gregory was inside, and that the door had only gotten locked once he saw us crossing the street.
“Door’s just stuck,” I muttered, hoping it was convincing. Unlocking a door was pretty simple if it was a normal lock. Lucky for me, this was. The plate surrounding the keyhole was the color of tarnished gold, complete with a number of scratches where the key had dragged against metal. Just as long as Riley didn’t realize I was doing magic, I’d be okay.
“Braden? Are you listening to me?”
I grunted something noncommittal, my attention more on the lock than on Riley. I closed my eyes, imagining the hole filling with a silver and gold spell that formed itself into a key.
“You know,
you’re not even listening to me, and I’m trying to tell you something important here,” Riley announced. But I missed the urgency in her voice. I was focused more on waiting for the click.
“Just hold on a minute,” I muttered. There it was, the click. I reached out to touch the doorknob, hesitating for a moment. I wasn’t sure why, but all of a sudden breaking in didn’t seem like such a good idea. Gregory seemed to be close to Trey. I had a feeling my visit would be the topic of a very interesting phone call very soon.
“You’re on the Internet!” Riley blurted out, just as the door swung open under my hand.
If I’d thought the day’s surprises were going to end with my father’s appearance that morning, then I was sorely mistaken. “What?”
“I was going to tell you,” Riley insisted, reaching out to tug on my sleeve. “See, there’s this website about Belle Dam—”
“The SAC something or other,” I interrupted.
Riley flinched, dropping her hand. “Uhm, right. How’d you know about that?” Since she couldn’t see my eyes, I had to trust that pressing my lips together would get the point across. “Right, anyway. I mean, not you you. But this really pretentious guy named Myth Man posted about this boy witch who’d come to town. I didn’t even know they made boy witches, but Myth Man seemed insistent. Then you showed up at school and I got curious, right before he followed it up by saying the witch always wore glasses.”
So Riley thought I’d be her best friend, and she’d learn a little something about witches. “So that’s why you’re hanging around.” Riley’d been playing me too. Everyone in this damn town had an agenda.
“No!” She looked near to tears. I realized then that I had almost been yelling. “I just thought I could prove him wrong, that’s all. It’s crazy, right? A boy witch?”
“Why’d you wait until now to tell me?”
Riley looked down, her hair spilling into her eyes. “I was going to, but I figured if I did, you’d think I was faking being your friend. Or that I just wanted something from you.”
Gregory had told me about the site before, but I hadn’t thought I’d be on it. “What else is on there about me?”
Riley shook her head. “Nothing, I swear. It just said a new witch showed up in town the night before Labor Day, and it seemed like he wasn’t involved with either side.”
“So you think I’m a witch? Just because some jerk posted a rumor about me?”
Her forehead crinkled. “It’s just this board where people get together and talk about the weird stuff. And there’s a whole section for talking about the people that can do things.”
“Like Catherine Lansing.”
She nodded. “Who told you about it?” It was the reporter in her. Now that I knew her better, I could hear the shift in her voice, the way her words took on an edge.
I shrugged. “Who else? The man behind the curtain.” I pushed the door open. Gregory had some explaining to do.
Except that he didn’t seem to be anywhere in the shop. I gestured for Riley to follow me toward the stairs, but the sound of voices coming from a different room stopped me.
“Now’s not the time to play loyal lapdog,” a younger, deeper voice was saying.
“You don’t have any idea what Catherine can do when she’s pissed off. She’s like Dark Phoenix and Emma Frost combined,” said the other sulkier, wavering voice.
“If it wasn’t for the kid, that thing would be roaming around the town right now, stirring it all up again. The last thing Jason needs is to come back and see Catherine just itching for a fight.”
“Jason’s too scared of her, he won’t do anything.” The voice was whining now. I walked back toward the other room, seeing Drew pacing the way I knew he would be, and Gregory sitting in a computer chair, his head in his hands.
“Someone want to tell me what’s going on?” I walked into the room and stared at both of them.
“Planning committee for your execution,” Drew announced without missing a beat. “How about we skip the catering and just get everyone Happy Meals?”
Twenty-Five
“Drew, what are you doing here?” Riley pushed past me, her neck craned backwards to look at him. “And what do you mean, execution?”
Gregory looked like he was about to jump out of his chair. Or piss his pants. Hopefully, not both at the same time.
Drew’s blasé attitude didn’t last long. He actually looked mollified for a second.
“You just stay away from me.” Gregory looked more nervous than I’d ever seen him before. Gone was the arrogant comic book owner. Something had happened.
“He’s been sucking off your girlfriend’s son, Greg. I’d think you’d be happy to see him.” Drew’s discomfort didn’t last for long. His arrogance put Trey to shame.
I looked at him in shock. “What the hell did I do to you?”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Gregory muttered, but no one was listening.
“Hey, you’re the one that’s working for the lawyer,” Drew said with disdain. “Not my fault you’ve got shitty taste in guys.”
“I’m not working for Lucien Fallon. He’s my uncle’s lawyer.”
The look he gave me was patronizing, and just like that, I realized, He knows who I am. “You should talk to my buddy Greg. He’s got you all twisted up, focusing on the wrong bad guy. Or girl, I should say.”
Riley stomped her foot on the ground. “I’m talking to you, Drew. What are you doing here? I thought you said it wasn’t safe for you to be in town.”
I turned to her. “Riley, take him somewhere and hash this out. I need to talk to Gregory.”
Gregory’s eyes went wider, and he tried shuffling his chair backwards. Like distance was really going to make a difference. All it did was make him look like some cracked-out chicken kicking his legs out.
“I told you to stay out of this, Riley,” Drew growled. Lucky for me, he took the hint and stalked out of the room. Even luckier, Riley started chasing him around like a dog looking for a bone. I could hear her voice getting louder and sharper the further they got, until the door chimed, signaling they’d gone outside.
But there was still tension in the room, and a shop owner who still looked terrified. Why? I hadn’t really done anything that bad to him. Something had to have happened since yesterday. Something had made him terrified of me. Drew?
“If you start casting spells on me again, Catherine’s going to be really mad,” Gregory started saying, but I held up my hand and he cut off.
“Listen,” I said gently, “I need information. And everyone in town knows that you’re the go-to guy if anything is happening here, right?”
The calming tone must have worked, because some of the stiffness left his posture. “R-right. I mean, I don’t like to toot my own horn, y’know. But it’s true.”
“That’s what I’ve been hearing all over town,” I assured him. “But we don’t have time for that. I need to know everything you’ve got on Lucien Fallon.”
¤ ¤ ¤
Half an hour later, Gregory came sauntering back into the room. Riley and Drew had never come back, and I’d spent my time paging through some of the more esoteric grimoires on the shelf.
“One of the city’s most interesting anomalies,” Gregory announced, a stack of computer papers in his hands. “There isn’t a lot out there,” he warned. “Just a lot of speculation.”
“But there’s something,” I pressed. “So he’s definitely off somehow.”
“Well, I’m guessing you don’t care about how many secretaries he goes through?” I shook my head. “It’s strange, though. Hiring so many local girls. You wouldn’t think the turnover would be as high as it is.”
“So he’s got a thing for young girls. Gross, but that doesn’t help me.”
Gregory huffed, plucking a sheet f
rom the stack and dropping the rest into the garbage can. “That’s fine,” he mumbled. “Only spent three weeks cross-referencing hair color to height.”
“Greg, he’s supposed to be in his forties or fifties,” I announced impatiently. “But he looks like he could be attending his ten-year high school reunion. There has to be something there, right?”
“Here, look.” He dropped the sheet in front of me, a picture of Lucien that could have been taken yesterday. “Key Festival, circa 2006.” Another sheet got dropped, this one in black and white. “Key Festival circa 1906.” And finally one more, the quality on this one a lot worse. “And a painting from 1853. Right around the time Belle Dam was founded.”
I lined the three pages next to each other. The two photographs were taken from almost the same angle, facing the town square. In one it was a haphazard mob, but my father and Lucien were clearly noticeable on the courthouse steps. In the second, a group was posed together. Off to one side, in a top hat like the one in my dream, was Lucien.
I squinted at the painting, which had apparently been scanned from a picture of the painting, then printed up, ruining most of the quality. There was a large distortion in the middle, splitting the group in two. On one side were a group of men, but on the other side I immediately recognized Lucien and a woman in white. “Wait a second. Is that … ?”
Gregory nodded. “Grace Lansing. The Widow herself. They just folded the original in half, hoping no one would ever notice those two were missing. The founding fathers of Belle Dam, gathering together for the first time.”
Lucien hadn’t changed a bit in one hundred and fifty years. Even the hair styles in all three were nearly the same. Short and slicked back. “So why doesn’t anyone notice? If this guy’s been walking around Belle Dam for over a hundred years and never gets any older, then someone had to catch on.”
“Why would they?” Gregory pulled the pictures back into his stack. “In case you haven’t noticed, people in Belle Dam try to remain as ignorant of the truth as possible. Why do you think no one’s ever tried burning a Lansing at the stake?”