by Pat Esden
I raked my hair back from my face. This whole thing wasn’t fair. A person was supposed to be able to trust their family, especially parents and grandparents. On the other hand, not trusting Chase made sense. But deep inside I wanted so badly to trust him as well.
Dad’s door opened partway and Olya stuck her head out. “It’s good you’re here. Your father’s asleep. But”—she opened the door a bit wider—“I could use some company.”
The room was silent and dark, except for a bleary glow and muffled voices filtering out from the television. Thankfully, a pleasant lemony aroma had replaced both the musty incense smell and the more acrid one.
I followed Olya to the sitting area in front of the fireplace. As I settled into one of the wingchairs, she gestured at a silver tea set and lifted an eyebrow to ask if I wanted some. I nodded. Then we sat without speaking. She watched the TV, her head bobbing as she dozed off. I shoved Chase’s words to the back of my mind and sipped tea while I kept vigil over Dad and the fireplace, ready to pull my flashlight out at a moment’s notice.
But no shadows materialized, human or otherwise. And Dad slept curled up under a puff of blankets, snoring gently like everything was right with the world.
Hours later, Tibbs came in and whispered that supper was ready. Olya and I got up to leave, but stopped when Dad rolled over and opened his eyes.
“Annie,” Dad said in a hoarse voice. “I love you. Never forget that.”
I smiled at him. “I love you too, Dad.” I thought about the beach and what Chase had said in the library, and added, “No matter what.”
Supper dragged on forever. When it finally ended, I decided to take the Professor up on his offer to look at the artifacts instead of going straight back to Dad’s room.
While Zachary charged ahead, the Professor, Selena, and I walked slowly to the library. Once there, I couldn’t help but glance up to where Chase and I had stood on the balcony only hours ago. My breath quickened as I thought about the husky tone of his voice and the smolder in his eyes when he’d warned me. The warmth of his body, so close to mine. What was he doing now, eating his supper with Laura and Tibbs or alone in the stone cottage by the gate?
“Hurry up,” Zachary shouted from where he was vanishing into the stacks.
I followed the Professor and Selena through the alleys of books, past where a circular staircase rose up to the balcony, and into the archeology workroom.
Stunned, I stopped and stared. Unlike the library or the rest of the house for that matter, this room was brightly lit and ultramodern. It wasn’t big, no larger than a two-car garage. Smaller than some I’d seen at museums. But it was spotless, all gleaming stainless steel, white paint, and glistening glass. Not one computer or piece of equipment looked out-of-date or worn. The only thing vaguely old-fashioned was the journals lying open on the massive desk.
“Wow, this is amazing,” I said.
The Professor motioned for us to sit around a table, then he turned on one of the computers and a wall-size monitor came to life. The top third of the screen showed a distant satellite image of a dig site. I was sure of this because a series of close-ups spanned the bottom of the screen. One appeared to be infrared, and another was the image of a 3-D model.
Zachary bounced in his seat. “That’s where the stuff came from,” he said.
I studied the image. Amazing was an understatement. “Where is it?”
“Greece,” Selena said. “Our family’s been involved in this site for decades.”
“Indeed,” the Professor said. “I was about Zachary’s age, the first time I went there.” He handed out cotton gloves for us to wear, then started to pass around pottery shards and other trinkets. His eyes widened as he lectured about them. Everything was fascinating, an incredible experience.
“This one’s sweet,” Zachary said, passing me a gray-blue coin the size of a nickel.
I blinked, then blinked again and stared. I couldn’t believe it. The coin looked almost exactly like the coin in the center of the salt pentagram.
I set it on my palm. The coin had the image of a centaur stamped into one side—I flipped it over—and a bee on the other.
Closing my fingers around it, I thought about the pentagram. I was pretty sure Olya had made it. Selena might have had a passing interest in medicinal herbs from Shakespeare’s day and age, but she didn’t strike me as a kneeling-on-the-floor-chanting-spells kind of girl. It certainly wasn’t Zachary. And, if the Professor had used the coin in witchcraft, it didn’t seem like he would pass one around for everyone to see.
I opened my fist and studied the coin. If no one here had made the pentagram, then this was a good time to ask. “Professor, this coin, what is it?”
Ignoring me, the Professor zeroed in on Zachary. “The point of showing you these artifacts is that I don’t expect you to merely dabble with the Iliad translations. I want you to gain an exceptional appreciation for the Greek culture and history. Their military commanders studied the Iliad to learn the art of combat. You will need to put effort in that area as well.”
Zachary waggled his eyebrows. “No problem, Prof. Weapons are cool.”
The Professor shook his head and continued his lecture, going on about the exact location where each artifact was found and how that significance worked into various theories. I wanted badly to interrupt and ask about the coin again, but maybe it was smarter to hold off. Tomorrow, I’d catch him alone and find a way to bring the subject up.
As he returned to discussing the Iliad, my mind wandered back to when Chase and I were on the balcony. The dig and Greek history were interesting, but they were mysteries that for the most part had been unearthed—but, Chase, now there was a tantalizing story that begged to be explored. How had he ended up fleeing for his life? Where had he come from before that?
Laughing at myself, I sat back in my chair. Why did I even care about any of that? I barely knew Chase. As a rule, I didn’t obsess on random guys like some girls did. Not even freaking movie or sports stars.
I touched my shoulder where his hands had held me captive. His grip determined and forceful.
Closing my eyes, I imagined his face. His eyes, steel blue and deep. His inviting lips. His strong jawline and dark brows. His hair. If I ran my fingertips over it, what would it feel like, bristly like a rottweiler’s scruff or softer like cut grass? Would touching it send shivers across my skin? For sure, and then some.
I breathed in through my nose, recalling his outdoorsy-bonfire scent. The warmth of his hands cupping mine. For a heartbeat it had felt like he might actually kiss me, hot and fast, impetuously. Chase didn’t seem like the type to preplan those kinds of things.
I let my mind wander deeper, imagining what would have happened if I’d encouraged him with a tilt of my head, or if I’d kissed him first. I pictured closing the gap between us and reaching for his neck . . .
But before I can kiss him, his arms go around me, pulling me hard against him. His lips are on mine, eager and hungry, as if he can’t hold back. They open, asking, offering, demanding more. Heat floods my body, and my legs weaken. I grip his back, my hands twisting into his shirt as I return the kiss with equal passion. His tongue finds mine. The kiss deepens, hardens. His hand strokes the outline of my cheek, slides down my neck. Pleasure ripples through me and I gasp as he kisses my throat, caresses my—
“He did, too.” Zachary’s voice brought me crashing back to reality.
I dropped my hand from my throat. What the hell? Chase. I was having full-blown, no-holds-barred fantasies about him now. Oh my God. Had I gone totally nuts?
Shifting in my seat, I crossed my legs and squeezed them together to ease the embarrassing thrum that pulsed between them.
Selena gave an exasperated sigh. “That’s bullshit, Zach. Chase would never say that. You’re such a pervert.”
I shifted again and uncrossed my legs. Zachary was staring at me.
“It’s the truth,” he said. “Chase thinks you’re hot and I think, instead
of a book report, I should make a toga for you.”
The Professor closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose, as if he’d suddenly acquired a headache. “That will not be happening. Togas would be Roman not Greek, and terribly inappropriate for other reasons.”
Selena leaned toward me and whispered, “Don’t pay any attention to Zach. It’s not that Chase doesn’t like girls or anything, but he never talks like that. He’s always, ‘blah, blah, blah, knives, blah, blah, sword fighting and weight lifting’ and Aunt Kate’s stupid sheep.”
Hopefully, she was right. The last thing I needed right now was a romance—especially with a hot, baffling guy who said scary shit, told half-truths, and had already sizzled his way into my fantasy life. Though a small part of me couldn’t help but feel incredibly, stupid happy. Chase thought I was hot.
Tucking this new information away for later, I focused on Zachary. Something else had clicked in my head. Zachary had given the Professor the perfect opportunity to slide in a snide comment about Taj and our relationship, but the Professor hadn’t so much as given me a sly look. Taj had treated me like crap and didn’t deserve my gratitude for anything. Still, I was thankful and relieved that he apparently hadn’t spread rumors about me. The last thing I needed was for Kate to find out and start making even more judgmental comments about me and my upbringing.
By the time the Professor stopped talking and we left, it was almost nine. Selena and I checked on Dad. Then, since he had already gone to sleep for the night, I suggested we go out on the terrace and watch the stars come out or something. It would give me a chance to discover what else she knew about Mother and, even if we ended up talking about nothing important, it would help me relax before bed.
Selena grimaced apologetically. “I’d love to hang out, but”—she lowered her voice—“Newt’s expecting me to chat with him, like as soon as Mom thinks I’m in bed asleep.”
“You really can’t tell her you’re seeing someone?” I didn’t know what else to say. There were millions of reasons her parents might not approve of him: too poor, too wild, too conservative or liberal. The wrong religion or background.
“It wouldn’t matter who he was. They think I’m too young to see any guy.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. You’re eighteen.”
She shrugged. “What can I say? My parents are weird.”
As we walked toward the east wing and our rooms, Selena told me about how she’d met Newt last December in a Bar Harbor bookstore. Her dad had dropped her off to do some shopping while he visited with an old friend. She and Newt had started talking. He’d bought her a coffee and a white-chocolate muffin. After that, they’d kept in touch, texting and chatting online, and meeting in person when they could. He was going to be a senior at Harvard next fall, an Economics major. He was a little old for her, but he didn’t sound at all creepy.
She showed me were the light switches were, and then we talked for a couple more minutes in the hallway outside my room. Finally, Selena took off for her family’s apartment, and I went inside and closed the door behind me.
Though darkness hadn’t stolen the entire view from my window, it hovered in the garden and seeped in around the edges of my room.
I turned on the overhead light and rushed to the window and drew shut the curtains.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I stashed Dad’s straight razor in my suitcase. Then I went into the bathroom to examine my ear. The cut wasn’t very deep and the scabbiness was confined to the back of the earlobe. Still, it stung and began to bleed again when I washed it.
I dabbed the cut with toilet paper to stop the flow, then changed and headed for the bed.
My heart leapt into my throat.
The pentagram. I couldn’t go to bed.
Even if I dared lie down, I’d never fall asleep. And I definitely didn’t want to remove it and chance that something worse might happen. Or move to a different bedroom and have whoever made it suspect I was onto them, especially if they were part of the danger Chase had warned me about.
I swallowed hard. I could sleep on the floor or in the chair. I grinned as the perfect solution came to me.
First I snagged the pillows and the quilt off my bed, then the mini-flashlight and a large blanket. I hauled them all to the bathroom and piled them into the claw-footed tub. It certainly wasn’t as comfy as the bed, but it wasn’t bad, and it was a witchcraft-free zone.
I’m not sure how long it took before I dozed off, but I woke with a start when my bedroom door rustled open.
“Annie. Where are you?” Selena’s voice said.
Shit. I leapt out of the tub, sprang for the bathroom door—and came face to face with Selena.
She craned her neck around me. “You’re sleeping in the bathtub. What’s wrong with the bed?”
My mouth went dry and I couldn’t begin to think of a lie or a reason not to tell her.
I led her to the bed and lifted the ruffle. “Look,” I said, motioning at the pentagram.
She leaned forward and squinted. “Oh,” she said, bolting upright.
“I don’t know if it’s good or bad, but it wasn’t here when I first got to my room, then it was.”
Selena stared at the floor, nibbling her lip.
I clasped her by both arms. “You know who made it, don’t you?”
With a sharp exhale, Selena looked up. “It was me,” she said hesitantly, then with more force. “I made it. It’s—it’s to give the room good vibes.”
“You?” I shook my head. No way. She’d been far too surprised when I showed it to her.
“I know it’s weird, believing in magic and stuff. I’m not that into it. I just toy around with love potions, good luck charms, and things like that.” She stuck out her bottom lip and her chin trembled a little. “Don’t hate me. I thought it would help you sleep.”
I let go of her arms. She was lying. I knew it. But what could I do short of tying her to the bed and torturing it out of her? “I don’t hate you. I—I’m just surprised. So it’s not evil?”
“Cross my heart.” She sounded truthful.
I moistened my lips with my tongue. “I’ve heard of using salt and pentagrams,” I said, “but what the heck’s the coin for? It looks like the one the Professor showed us.”
With a smug smile, she flounced past me, gathered up the quilt from the tub, and paraded back to the bed. “It’s not so much the coin as the bee. It’s my totem, kind of. The Queen Bee’s a powerful goddess. Honey’s used in medicines. A bee’s on the Freemont coat of arms, too.” She turned toward me and rested her hands on her hips. “Now, let’s get this bed made.”
I took two corners of the blanket and helped her spread it across the bed. The witchy image didn’t match the rest of Selena’s look and personality, but the bee-is-my-totem thing fit with her love of medicine. It definitely sounded like she had some expertise and could have made the pentagram. But I doubted it.
“Where did you ever learn about this stuff?” I asked.
Her voice hesitated, like an amateur con artist trying to pawn off a fake. “The Internet,” she finally said.
“Oh.” It was better than calling her a liar.
“So”—Selena belly-flopped onto my bed and looked up at me—“aren’t you going to ask why I woke you up?”
“I figured you were sneaking out or just getting home. What time is it anyway?”
“Three o’clock. But I wasn’t out, at least not tonight.” She giggled. “Newt and the Beach Rats are having a party tomorrow night. He asked me to go. You’re invited too.”
“That’s nice.” I lifted my voice in an attempt to sound excited, but failed miserably, if the disappointed look on Selena’s face was any indication.
She scowled. “Don’t even think about chickening out. It’s going to be great.” She sat up and curled her legs to one side. “If you’re worried about leaving your father, I’ll make you a deal. Tibbs is cool. I’ll ask him to text me if we need to come home for any
reason. Please, please, please.”
I frowned and shuffled my feet. Dad was one reason I didn’t want to go, but there was another. I hated big parties. It was a weird thing. I did fine out with a couple of friends, hanging around and doing whatever. I was totally at ease in auction houses packed wall-to-wall with yammering older people. But put me in a crowded party with people my own age and I instantly transformed into a quivering mass of brain-dead Jell-O.
“I—I’ll think about it,” I said.
She gave me another one of her patented pouts. “It’s the witchcraft, isn’t it? You think I’m a freak, and you’re still mad about the pentagram.”
“No. I’m not upset with you.” I took a long breath. I didn’t want to go to the damn party, but going was probably a smarter move. Most likely there’d be drinking and, once Selena got a buzz on, it would be easy to coax her into revealing who made the pentagram. “I am a little scared of the witchcraft, and I’m worried about leaving Dad, but if Tibbs will go along with it then I’ll go.”
She let out an ecstatic squeal. “It’s going be so much fun!”
I narrowed my eyes. “This isn’t going to be high school–age kids, right?”
“Of course not. They’re mostly in college, like Newt. You’re going to have a great time, promise.”
I sank down on the bed next to her and pasted on a smile. One thing was certain, if the pentagram was harmful, Selena wouldn’t be lying on the bed.
At least, I hoped.
CHAPTER 9
Βεωαρε οφ φρεεδομ ωρουγητ φρομ φεαρ.
Beware of freedom wrought from fear.
—Etched in blood into the sands of the Red Desert
Only a couple of hours after Selena left, I was awoken by the nonstop shriek of gulls outside my window.
Trying to block out the noise, I clamped a pillow over my head and squirmed deeper into my nest of tangled blankets. I’d managed to sleep, despite the pentagram and all the crazy thoughts whirring in my head, which was a good thing. But I couldn’t afford to stay in bed any longer. Somewhere, amongst all the tossing and turning, I’d come up with a plan—one that required me to get going fairly early.