by Scott Tracey
He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “She felt a darkness … something she thought pursued her. She saw things that sounded like any other nightmare.” He looked out the window, as though he couldn’t look at me while he talked. “Your mother had the magic in her blood, but she had never managed anything but parlor tricks. I had no reason to suspect … ”
“Suspect what?” I didn’t trust myself to say anything more than a few short words. But I had to know more.
“That maybe she’d tapped into your gift, Braden. And she saw that Catherine was going to kill her.”
“She saw the future? That didn’t come from me.” With only one exception, I’d never seen what would happen. I only ever saw what was happening, or what had happened.
“Maybe not yet. But with the right training, who knows what you could do with your gift? We only know the smallest fraction of what your visions entail.”
“Wait … what do you know about the witch eyes?”
He startled, glancing over at me for the first time. Almost as soon as he did, he’d reached into a pocket and put on his own pair of sunglasses. If I had to bet, I’d say it had something to do with the reddening of his eyes. “Witch eyes? Is that what you call them?”
I shrugged. “We had to call them something.”
“Yes, well, Lucien and I have spent the last few years researching everything we could find on Grace Lansing, but I’m afraid there hasn’t been much we could learn. Grace never gave her visions a proper name, and wrote down even less about them. But we were talking about your mother.”
I nodded. Lucien had mentioned some of this before. “So Catherine killed her, thinking it would kill both of us?”
“Yes.”
“And then you went after Catherine’s husband. A partner for a partner?”
He didn’t respond, but neither one of us needed him to. I knew the truth. “You tried to kill him,” I whispered, shaking my head.
“I was a different man then. We, your uncle and I, were raised to believe we were greater than the rest. That their lives meant nothing.” He glanced down at his hands. I saw a golden band still circling his finger. “Now it’s different.”
“So what changed your mind?”
“Almost ten years ago … you would have been seven or eight … I hired a girl. A tiny little witch, wanting to make her mark on the world. I’d lost the chance to train you, but this was almost like my second chance. A student I could teach.”
“What was her name?”
“Adele. A few weeks later Catherine had her own witchling under her wing.” Jason’s hands tightened around the cup. “Things escalated. When they died, we made a truce. I would stop coming after Catherine, and she would do the same.”
Jason waited while Frank, the manager, exited the kitchen, bearing a tray of various subs that he set down between us. After checking to see if we needed anything, he vanished into the back once more. “Catherine’s been planning something for a long time.”
I shook my head in surprise. “And you think Lucien hasn’t been?” He couldn’t be that blind. “Did you know he’s some kind of immortal? Gregory has pictures of Lucien that go back a hundred years. And he’s the same age he is now.”
“The same age he was when I took over the family businesses from my father,” Jason admitted. He knew? “Lucien is a very powerful ally, one our family has relied upon for generations. He sees things even you cannot.”
“Then what is he?” The burning question, the one I needed answered more than anything. If I knew what Lucien was, maybe I could figure out what this was all about.
It was like he didn’t care at all. It had been driving me crazy for two days, and he’d apparently known all his life and couldn’t be bothered to look into it. “I haven’t the slightest. What Lucien sees, when he looks to the future, is complete. He is never wrong. He can latch on to a future years down the road, and trail it all the way back to the events that cause its inception. There isn’t another seer with his power in all the world. I’ve looked.”
“And you don’t think that’s strange? A seer that lives forever? That’s not normal.”
Jason dipped his head. “Not any more than a child that can see the world’s secrets, and unravel spells with just a look.”
“Then why would he be fighting with Uncle John? If Lucien knew how things were going to turn out, why would he need to fight with him on the phone?”
Jason shook his head. “My brother,” he said, nearly spitting, “barely spoke with Lucien. Only offering the occasionally vague update.”
That wasn’t true. I’d gotten the hang-up phone call dozens of times. “Then Lucien’s been lying to you.”
Attacking the lawyer didn’t really get me anywhere. Jason let the words wash right off him, like he was totally unconcerned. “Lucien’s been doing this for a long time, Braden. He knows what needs to happen for you to survive.”
I have an agenda. The words rang in my ears again. “You said he introduced you to my mother. She was from a witch family. And two witches always have children with stronger powers than either of the parents.” I could barely force out a whisper. “It really was about me all along.”
I was starting to really understand now. Lucien didn’t just want a war. He wanted destruction. If I went after Catherine, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what would happen to Belle Dam.
What I couldn’t figure out was why. Destruction for its own sake didn’t strike me as Lucien’s style. So why was he pushing me into some sort of fight?
Everything Lucien had done had been to get me here, now. He’d set me on the path to learn about Grace, and try to find out her secrets. A woman who lived her life obsessed with keys and locks. So obsessed that the town had started a festival in her honor, and her tombstone made sure that no one would ever forget.
Fragments of things were coming together, like a jigsaw puzzle in my brain. It was like if I squinted, I could almost make out the bigger picture.
“He wants the door unlocked. The door that no key should open,” I whispered.
Jason’s movement was sudden and shocking. His hand jerked out, knocking the coffee mug to the ground and spilling its contents everywhere.
“Where did you hear about that?”
Twenty-Nine
I watched as Jason gestured with his left hand. Powerful, explosive magic gathered itself up and bent around the broken mug. The pieces reversed their trajectory, bonding together and falling upwards until the mug was back on the table, whole and full of coffee.
There were dozens of ways he could have repaired the mug. Jason had bent time itself, twisting it around like it was the most casual of spells.
I was equally envious and afraid. If Jason could do that, then I could only imagine what else Catherine could do. I knew I was strong … but not that strong. Messing with time or space was the most powerful stuff, miles beyond summoning things from the other side.
How strong is he? And Catherine?
“I asked you a question,” he said.
“I … I don’t know.” Where had I heard it? “It’s important, then?”
“Just a local legend. A story from our childhood, the kind of things grandparents delight in talking about over a roaring fire. We were young and stupid, thinking that there really was some secret treasure hidden here.”
I leaned forward. “So you didn’t find it? What happened?”
“We weren’t much older than you and Jade at the time. Still in high school. We knew the stories, and we thought that if anyone deserved to know Belle Dam’s secrets, it was the three of us: Catherine, Bennett, and I. A history that we traced back to Grace Lansing.”
Listening to him talk, it didn’t surprise me to hear the links between us. Everyone searching for Grace’s secrets, without a clue as to what they were.
Jason nodded. “Bennett Armstrong happened. He was the third part of our little covenant, and then he … changed.”
“Changed?”
“He turned against the rest of us. Becoming increasingly paranoid. Dangerous.”
“So you killed him?” I steeled myself for the answer. I don’t know why it was so important to hear, but I wanted Jason to tell me what he’d done. “Aren’t you supposed to be this magical badass? And the only thing you could come up with is killing him?”
His eyes narrowed. “We didn’t set out to kill him.” He spoke with calm force. “He lost control, and came after us. In a split second, there was a choice. We chose to live.” Jason’s hand reached for the coffee mug, but instead of grabbing it he held his hand over the mouth of the cup. “Pray that you never understand what that’s like, Braden. To have to make a choice, in just a fraction of a second, knowing that someone’s life is in your hands.”
“Isn’t that what you’re asking me to do?” I asked coldly. “It’s what Lucien’s been pushing me toward since I got here.”
“Things aren’t so black and white, Braden.”
I didn’t give him the chance to go on. “What happened next?”
“Afterwards, Catherine was different. Colder. Like she hadn’t played a part in Bennett’s death. From there, the path to now got easier. We knew which sides we were playing for.”
“And then it’s all Welcome to the Mob,” I muttered. Something Jason had said struck a chord in me. The vision I’d had of Grace, the night I stopped the hellhound, had talked about power locked away.
Jason was still talking about how the feud had started, but I interrupted. “Tell me everything you know about immortality. If you had to make an educated guess, what would Lucien be? He’s not a vampire, and there’s no way a curse could give him the magical Botox for this long. So what would it be?”
Jason was startled, but I was too busy trying to work it all out in my head to worry about it. “I couldn’t say,” he said with a frown. “He could have struck a bargain with something, but those kinds of deals always leave a mark. The most obvious choice would have been a demon, but that’s simply not possible. Demons cannot be anchored here permanently. They’re too powerful.”
Power. That was it. That was what Lucien was after and what Grace had. That’s why she was so important, and why he wanted me to look into her history.
I bolted up out of the booth. “Thanks, but I’ve got to go,” I said, slinging my backpack over my shoulder.
“You haven’t eaten anything,” he said, glancing pointedly at the tray of sandwiches. He failed to notice he hadn’t eaten either.
“Not hungry,” I said. “And I’ve got class.”
“You need to focus your attention on the real problems, Braden,” Jason said sternly. “And Lucien Fallon isn’t it.”
I was backpedaling all the way to the door. “I know,” I said hurriedly, “and you’re right. I totally will.” And then my hand brushed the metal handle of the door, and I was outside.
¤ ¤ ¤
Despite what I’d told Jason, I couldn’t go back to school. Our conversation had filled in a few details, but I still needed the rest of the picture. I needed the information that Gregory had.
The shop was open, surprisingly busy when I walked in. Trey’s friend Kayla was behind the counter, and paused in ringing someone up long enough to give me a curious glance.
I bypassed her and the counter, and headed for my part of the store. I wasn’t interested in shopping today. When I walked in, I saw that I wasn’t the only one who’d ditched school. Gregory was already there, but Drew and Riley were with him. I halted at the door, waiting for some sense of what was going on.
Drew glanced over his shoulder at me, and I could see the irritation on his face. “Too late, new kid. Gregory already went and spilled his guts to your boyfriend’s mommy. We walked in on him turning back to the dark side.”
“That’s not what happened!” Gregory heaved himself out of his chair, staring daggers at Drew.
“Then what happened?” Riley’s voice was calm, for her, and her body language suggested she’d been trying to calm the two of them down before I got there.
“You talked to Catherine?” I wasn’t sure what to say to that.
“She called.” Gregory looked to me then, his eyes pleading. Then, as if he realized who he was talking to, he looked away. I’d already spelled him once for annoying me.
He doesn’t know anything; it’ll be okay. But reassuring myself only worked up to a point. “What did you say to her?” I tried to keep my tone light.
“She called. Asked if I knew anything about you—”
“—and you sang like a bird,” Drew jumped in. “Don’t try to spin this like one of your stories for the D&D group.”
“When the hell did you get on my side?” I turned to Drew with curiosity.
“I’m not,” he snarled. “But pissing Catherine off’s just going to hurt other people.” He met my eyes, more or less, before looking to Riley.
Oh. Right. Moving on.
He didn’t know about Jason, and he didn’t know that I’d been dealing with Lucien. I leaned forward. “What did you tell her, Gregory? What exactly did you say?”
“Just that you were pretty strong,” Greg said, going so far as to shuffle his feet.
“And that’s it?”
Drew shook his head. “When I walked in, he told her how you were messing with Grace Lansing’s monument. Said he took pictures of what the headstone looked like now.”
Would Catherine remember those conversations with Jason when they were teenagers? Would a passing memory of Grace be enough for her to put the pieces together? I couldn’t take the chance. “So I’m looking into Grace’s history. Big deal. If you dig deep enough, everything goes back to her anyway. It’s not like I’m covering new ground, right?”
Riley looked uncomfortable. “Catherine might think you’re stepping on her toes. Grace was a Lansing, after all.” She paused, glancing at me. “What’d he mean, about Gentry? You’re not … ”
I didn’t have time to walk through even a normal secret like that right now. “Is that it?” I demanded. “That I’m strong, and I’ve been looking for information on Grace?”
“That’s it, I swear,” Gregory said, looking from me to Drew.
“He made it sound more sinister than that,” Drew added, his eyes narrowed. “Kept using words like ‘nefarious’ and ‘dark side.’”
“Whatever. I don’t have time for that.” I walked through the room and grabbed his laptop. Gregory immediately sat up, fear in his eyes, but I pointed at him and he slid back down.
I turned the laptop around and set it in front of Riley. “Can you pull up anything he has on Grace Lansing?”
Riley looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “What?”
“I can’t trust him to do it,” I said, gesturing across the table at Gregory. “Not if he’s going to be thinking about all the ways Catherine’s going to string him up when she finds out he’s a double agent.”
“Double agent!” In any other situation, Gregory’s squeak would have been funny. Now it was just sad.
“I don’t know, Braden,” she said, glancing down at the computer.
“She won’t find anything without the password,” Greg announced. “Besides, she’s definitely no Angelina Jolie.”
I glanced at him in confusion. “Huh?”
“Hackers reference,” Drew supplied. “Angelina played this hot teenage hacker badass schoolgirl chick.”
“Didn’t we talk about you being offensive?” Riley said, actually sounding caustic for once.
“I could try harder, right?”
“Guys.” I rapped my hand agai
nst the countertop. “Focus.” I turned to Riley. “Can you find what we need or not? Try that website you were telling me about.”
“I’ll try,” Riley said with a little hesitation. All that evaporated after a few seconds of typing. “You’re still logged in to everything,” she said, glancing up at Greg. “No passwords required.”
“Do you have any idea what will happen to me if Catherine finds out?” Greg leaned back in his chair, craning his neck toward the window. “She’s not exactly forgiving.”
“Drew?” I waited until his attention was on me. “Go downstairs and see if you can dig up a street map of Belle Dam. I want to check something.”
“Found something,” Riley announced while Drew headed back down the stairs. She turned the computer to face me. There was a whole website, complete with pictures, about Grace. The picture of her he’d shown me the other day was scanned on there, and a portrait I’d never seen before. In both, her entire face was veiled. In the painting, the artist had taken the time to shade the veil with dark and light, giving the illusion it was lit from within.
I scanned the page, finding only a little more than he’d told me before. “This is everything? There’s not something you’re keeping for Catherine?”
Greg shook his head. “No, no, of course not.”
I glanced at Riley, and she shrugged. “This is all I can find. I did a search for Grace, and the only things that came up were the pictures he put on the web.”
I nodded, and kept reading over her shoulder. When Grace Lansing came to the coast around which Belle Dam would be founded, I believe she helped those traveling with her to sketch out a plan for the city. A plan that continues to this day. Property was divided, and the first cobblestone streets constructed within weeks.
Belle Dam by-laws prohibit changing any property listed as residential into a commercial zone, and vice versa. I tapped the monitor. “What’s this mean?”
Gregory leaned across the counter. “Most cities have some sort of process to change zoning, but Belle Dam’s never allowed it. That’s why there aren’t any strip malls in town—the city council won’t let them tear down the smaller business buildings.”