by K. A. Poe
“It’s strange being apart from her, when all of my life she was the one I went to when I was upset or scared. Now it’s like there’s this chasm between us that I can’t find the way around and it was so sudden. My uncle took me to her house to pick up the rest of my things and ... it was almost like she wasn’t even there at all, even though she was. Her eyes had this empty vacant look to them, and she barely responded to a word I said. It hurt to see her like that.”
Mathias nodded while chewing a forkful of omelet. “Like I said, she’ll come around. It’s only been a few days and it’s a lot to process. She’s lost not only a husband but a daughter as well.”
“She hasn’t lost me,” I said with a sigh.
“Maybe not literally, but she probably feels like she has. You chose your real mom over her.”
My heart ached at his words and my shoulders slumped. “I didn’t ... I didn’t choose her over her ...”
He frowned. “You did, Madison, even if you don’t want to admit it. And even if that’s not how you intended for it to be, you did. Give her some time, and I guarantee you she’ll be back in your life and things will be like she never left.”
I picked idly at my pancakes and thought of Eila — the cheery, hardworking woman that had raised another woman’s baby and sacrificed her time selflessly to caring for that child. Had I made a mistake in going behind her back and rescuing my biological mother? No. She was preventing me from having Alex in my life, and that was wrong — all because she was jealous of the feelings Jason had for her. I wondered if she had made it to work at all since the day she found out my mom was out of Littlehaven, and worried about the consequences this might have on her bakery.
“You’re lost in thought again,” Mathias noted. He was already more than halfway through eating his omelet.
“I’m sorry,” I said and frowned at my plate — I’d barely made a dent in the pancake. “What was it like growing up without parents? I mean ... growing up in an orphanage? Is there a difference between that and a foster home or ...?”
He looked at me thoughtfully and didn’t seem uncomfortable with my question, as I feared he might have been. After one last bite of omelet, he set down his fork. “I’ll make you a deal,” he offered.
My brows arched in curiosity. “Yeah … okay.”
“If you continue eating your food, I will tell you.” His lips quirked into a smile.
“Fine,” I said and laughed, then gathered a forkful of fluffy cake. “Go on.”
He took a sip of soda and then cleared his throat. “According to the orphanage, I was dropped off there as a baby — and by that, I really do mean baby and I really do mean dropped off. I don’t know how old I was exactly, but it was likely a few months, if not less, after I was born. Someone, I’m guessing my mother, left me at the door. And yes, there’s a difference between the two. I’ve been in both.”
“That’s terrible,” I said between bites. “And what do you mean by ‘both’?”
“For the first few years of my life, I was with the orphanage. It was a strict Catholic orphanage, and we were taught verses from the Bible and we all knew of demons and the Devil, everything like that. I’ll explain more later about why I brought that up.”
Now I was definitely curious. “No one ever came to adopt you?”
He shook his head. “It’s rare for abandoned children to be adopted,” he explained. “I was a good kid, for the most part. That is, until I was about seven ... that’s when I realized I was different.”
“Different how?”
He smiled faintly and said, “I realized that I knew magic. Either that or that I was being possessed by a demonic presence as others would later suggest.”
“You were that young when you developed your gift?”
“It’s different for everyone. If you recall, Elijah was ten when he was brought to Haven. That’s only a few years’ difference. There are tons of witches out there that probably don’t even realize they have a gift, especially if they were raised by non-magical people. Maybe when you were an infant you were summoning pacifiers and extra milk into your crib,” he suggested with an amused grin.
I laughed and nearly spat out the orange juice I had just sipped from my glass. “I doubt that.”
His expression changed from amused to serious. “As I was saying ... when I was seven, things started to change. I would participate in playful races with other children, and won them, when before, I never could. I didn’t just win them though, I was at the finish line seconds after we started, regardless the distance. At first I thought that maybe I was just really fast all of a sudden, but then other kids began saying that I was doing magic or using the ‘Devil’s gift’. Those kids were punished for lying and even speaking of witchcraft. But once I had heard the others kids talking about it, it dawned on me that I really was doing magic as they had said. I spent all of my free time practicing and trying to control it. It was around then that a family actually came to pick me up as a foster child.
“I stayed in my room most of the time there, secluded from the unfamiliar family that had picked me out of a bunch of random children. There was a girl there, also. She was the parents’ real child. While I was living with them, I started putting this ‘gift’ to the test. I would shimmer downstairs at night and grab cookies from the kitchen and rush back to my room, unseen or heard by anyone. Being seven at the time, I didn’t take the time to consider that there would likely be evidence left behind. I was discovered with chocolate smeared on my cheeks and fingers, and crumbs on the bed. Not to mention that in my haste, I left the jar of cookies open. They scolded me and spanked me, and that only taught me not to get caught.”
I listened intently as I finished my pancake, then worked on the hash browns.
“I practiced more and more, but I ended up caught awake after hours with Halloween candy in my room. They punished me yet again and installed a lock on my door, on the outside, assuming that would prevent me from escaping. After that, I stopped bothering for a while ... until one night when I desperately needed to use the restroom, but my door was locked. I wasn’t about to go in my bed ... so I shimmered downstairs to the bathroom —”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “You can shimmer through things? Like doors and walls?”
“Not through everything, but yes ... kind of like teleporting. It takes extra energy to do so, however.”
With a nod, I remained quiet and let him continue.
“Anyway, I shimmered downstairs to the restroom, and to my surprise and hers, my ‘foster sister’ was using the bathroom,” he said and his cheeks turned rosy. “She started screaming and flailing her hands out at me, slapping me away and calling me a pervert. I tried to explain that I didn’t know she was in there, but her parents came rushing down from their room and burst through the door. My foster father took me by the collar and dragged me out of the room, yelling furiously at me. No one would listen to my side of the story, and I was called ... brutal names for a then eight year old. The mother kept mumbling about how there was no way I could have gotten the lock open, and she checked my window and knew that it would have been impossible for me to have jumped out, or else I’d have been injured. That’s when the girl started pointing at me accusingly, yelling ‘Demon! Pervert!’ and told her parents that I had just appeared in the bathroom without even opening the doors and that I was evil.”
A pained expression swept across his features.
“There was no hesitation in their decision. The mother’s eyes bulged in horror, she screamed and told her husband to take me away. He dragged me out the door, bruising my wrist with his grip, basically threw me into the back of their truck, and drove me straight to the orphanage where he pushed me out and shut the door without even a glance back in my direction before he rode away.”
“That’s terrible ... I’m so sorry,” I said, reached out a hand and laid it over his.
He smiled, which wasn’t at all what I expected. “It was, but I am glad that I got out of the
re.”
“But going back to the orphanage must have sucked ...”
“I never went back, not really.”
“What do you mean ... ?”
“That’s when Artemis found me.” His eyes twinkled at the mention of our Clan leader. There truly was a connection between the two of them.
“He was just ... out there waiting for you?”
Mathias seemed to be thinking and then nodded. “Yep.”
“How did he know you’d be there?”
“I have no idea.”
The waiter brought over our check and cleared our dishes from the table. I was stuffed and certain I’d never need to eat again.
“When my foster father was driving me back to the orphanage, I was seriously beginning to wonder if my gift was involved with demons,” he said and yet his smile didn’t fade. “Artemis explained everything to me, though. He treated me like a real person. No. More than that. He spoke to me like I was an adult and not a child.”
Before I had a chance to respond, I saw Noah approaching our table with a hurt look on his face. “Why wasn’t I invited to this little get together? I thought we were brothers, Mathias!” He looked back and forth from one of us to other. “Ohhh, wait. I see! I know what this is! And now I’m even more hurt. It’s a date!”
Mathias and I both looked at each other and simultaneously said, “It’s not a date.”
I was somewhat surprised by how disappointed I felt that it wasn’t a date. Did he feel the same?
Noah looked unconvinced. “Man, if you wanted to take my new girl out on a date, you could have at least had the common courtesy to ask me.”
Mathias looked annoyed and clenched his fists on the tabletop, which I almost didn’t notice through my burst of laughter. He pushed his chair back and stared dejectedly at me — he was clearly upset at not only Noah, but my reaction to the outlandish things he had said. He scooted his chair back and said, “I have to go.”
“No! Mathias, wait!” I said louder than I meant — people were now staring at our table.
Without another word, he placed a few bills on the table and headed out the door. Ignoring Noah — who didn’t seem entirely surprised that Mathias was upset — I ran out of the diner and caught sight of him right as he faded off into nothingness.
Chapter Nine
Once I made it back to Haven, I sped down the hallway — ignoring the pair of witches sitting on the sectional — and went straight for Mathias’s room, hoping to find him there. I twisted the doorknob. It was locked. With a frown, I knocked loudly against the wood and tapped my foot impatiently as I waited for a hopeful response. After a few minutes passed, I gave up and went to the far end of the hall and knocked on Artemis’s door, hoping that he’d have an idea as to Mathias’s whereabouts. No one answered. Frustrated and feeling defeated, I stalked down the hall in the direction I had come. I couldn’t understand why Mathias had overreacted about Noah’s sudden appearance at the diner, and I wanted some answers. I approached his door again and knocked one more time, hoping that maybe he’d returned somehow while I was down the hall, but there was still no answer. Giving up on any hope of finding him in either room, I returned to the lobby. Elijah was sitting on the sectional with a lanky black haired boy that I assumed was Forrest; they both smiled at me.
“Hey, I saw you earlier talking to my sister,” Elijah said.
I looked at him and saw once more the resemblance between him and his younger sister. “Oh, yeah. You’re Elijah — I mean … Castus Chance, right?”
He nodded. “Yep. This is Forrest, or Castus Bowman, if you want to get technical.”
“Hey,” Forrest said and I noticed a long scar marring his right cheek. “You’re Castus Young, then.” It was a statement, not a question.
“I am. I guess being the only new witch around here makes that kind of obvious, huh?”
Forrest and Elijah both laughed at the same time. “Nothing wrong with being new. Hopefully Eden will take your place as ‘the new kid’ soon.”
“Yeah, but she still won’t really be new around here the same way I am. It’ll be neat though, still. I really want to see what her power ends up being.”
“Me too,” Elijah replied and placed a hand over Forrest’s. “She’d really like it here, and I think you two could be friends.”
“I think so, too.”
The door swung open and I was disappointed to find that it was only Noah and not Mathias, but maybe he knew where I might find him. The two of them were best friends, so he had to know something.
“Hey, didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to run out on your boyfriend without saying bye?” he asked.
I ignored his sarcasm and looked apologetically at Elijah and Forrest; they didn’t seem to mind. “Have you seen Mathias?” I asked.
“Uh, I just got here, and if you remember, the two of you ditched me at the diner,” he said, a little more rudely than I anticipated. “He didn’t come back by to watch me finish my hash browns or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You’re the one that just invited yourself to sit down with us.”
Without waiting for an answer, I started heading back down the hall and to my room, but turned around and went for the front door. There was only one place that I knew of where Mathias might be, one other place we had gone together before, and while it was a long-shot, it was the only one I had.
When I made it to the lake where Mathias had taken me to practice my gift of foresight, I was actually surprised to find him standing at the shore of the water. His arms were crossed around his chest, eyes set straight on the water that before long would have a layer of frost over it once winter truly began. A sudden chill came over me that had nothing to do with the snow beneath my feet, but the memory of the last time I had been there and witnessed my brother’s blood-red eyes staring back at me through the once-rippling water.
“I thought I might find you here,” I said quietly as I approached him.
He turned, looking shocked, but he nodded and gave me a brief smile before returning to staring at the still-water.
“Why did you get so upset earlier?”
He shook his head. “It was nothing ... just forget about it. I didn’t mean to take it out on you or anything. I’ve just been stressed out lately.”
“What do you mean? Stressed about what?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
My hand was on his shoulder, turning him gently to face me, before I even had a second to consider my action. I took his hand in mine and squeezed it reassuringly. Looking up into his eyes, I noticed again the subtle change in color. “You can trust me, Mathias,” I insisted with a pleading look.
“I know I can ... but it’s just not something I want to talk about right now. With anyone.” He stated the last words firmly.
Looking downward at the dirtied snow beneath my shoes, I realized I was still holding his hand. To my surprise, it felt comforting and for lack of a better word — it felt right. Like that was where my hand should be. As I examined the slenderness of his long fingers I noticed not only that his fingernails were chipped as though he’d bit them out of nerves, but that they also had a strange white-washed discoloration. There was a silvery hue to them that I’d never noticed. Alarmed, I looked up at him and my brows scrunched in confusion and worry. “What happened to your fingers?”
“Nothing!” He jerked his hands away, stuffing them into his pockets.
I huffed and stepped away. “You know what? I don’t care. You’re acting like a real jerk. First you ran out from breakfast and left me with Noah of all people, and then after I find you and try to get you to open up to me, even after what you did, you just act like an asshole. If that’s how it’s going to be, then I don’t want to be here. I’ll see you around. Maybe.”
Turning on my heel, trying to hold back the burn of tears welling up, I was stopped by his hand encircling my arm. I turned around to face him, bright red anger burning my cheeks, only to fa
de when I saw how upset he looked. He slid his hand gently down my arm, grasped my hand and intertwined his fingers with mine. “I am sorry,” he whispered, “truly.”
Silence surrounded us for a second, and then he looked amused and said, “I take it your date with Noah didn’t go that well, then?”
I laughed and shook my head, released my hand from his and playfully hit him on the shoulder. “Noah is the last person in Haven I would go on a date with.”
He looked like he was about to ask something, bit his lip, and glanced away for a second. “Can you see anything in the water today?” he asked as he knelt down to tie his shoe.
With a shrug, I stepped closer to the lake and saw that there weren’t any fish swimming around this time. The reeds were wilted and leaning to the side, dying in the harsh cold temperatures of the oncoming winter. I struggled to focus on the water, peering beyond the surface, hoping yet fearing, that I might see something. My mind was filled with worrisome thoughts about Mathias and the sudden changes in his eyes and fingernails, making it difficult to focus. When I finally thought something might be shaping in the water, something cold and wet hit the back of my head; I jumped in surprise and twirled around to see Mathias grinning widely, another snowball prepped and ready in his hand.
“You so weren’t tying your shoe!” I accused and gathered my own ball of snow.
I tossed my snowball in his direction and he disappeared. “Hey! That’s cheating!” I yelled and scanned the area trying to find where he’d vanished to. Another cold mass hit me, this time in the side. I spun around and saw him standing a few feet away with a grin on his face — his eyes were fully illuminated by silver now, the after effect of shimmering. Ignoring the color as best I could, I looked away and gathered a handful of snow and packed it together tightly. “No shimmering this time, promise?”