The whole thing made me not want to be around Gage. I didn’t want to put him in any more jeopardy. Logan said he wouldn’t help me next time. Actually, he said he’d kill Gage himself. When he first said that the threat kind of slid by me. I mean it registered, but didn’t really sink in. But now I’d had a whole night and day to dwell on it, worry about it. Logan was kind of twisted. The way his eyes glistened last night when he said he could hurt me more—it frightened me. It made me realize he was capable of committing murder to get what he wanted.
“So you’re going, right?”
I wasn’t mentally in the room. I had no idea what she was talking about. “Where?”
“To Stocker’s party,” Summer said impatiently. “Gage says his band is playing. He really wants you to come.”
“Oh. No, I’m not going.”
“You’re not?” She looked distressed. “Come on, please. I don’t want to go by myself. Besides, you should get out of the house—I’m worried about you.”
In the end, after being begged and pleaded to death, I found myself at Stocker’s party following Summer as she made her rounds. She always did that, shocked me by noticing I was alive, dragged me to places I didn’t want to go, then ditched me to hang out with her friends. I hated Summer’s friends, big time. But I had to admit, she had a lot of them. I didn’t. And it was times like this, at Stockton’s party, that I realized it the most. I mean, except for Izzie, the rest of my friends were guys and I wasn’t complaining, they were good friends, the best, but it was different having guy friends, ‘cause lately they were all getting paired off, and although they still liked to hang with me, I felt sort of uncomfortable around them. I mean, it used to just be Gage—he always had girlfriends—but now even Conner was into a “relationship.” I felt like this big, rusty third wheel rolling around, crashing into everything. That’s why I didn’t go over to the band, hang out with them like I normally would. ‘Cause I knew their girlfriends would glare at me, or tell me to give the guys “space.”
I was heading for the door, ready to leave, ‘cause really, I was so not in the mood for socializing, even if anyone wanted to socialize with me, which apparently, they didn’t. But as I tried to get past a group doing the Mexo-wave, Gage came pushing through the crowd to get to me.
“You showed—cool,” he said, his eyes alight to see me. “I thought maybe you weren’t going to make it. Summer said you were sick again.”
Seeing him, my heartbeat quickened, remembering last night, our almost-kiss. Sadly, he probably didn’t remember, though—shouldn’t anyway—since Logan put that memory block on him. Sigh.
“Yeah, I was sick,” I murmured, feeling like a creep. But it wasn’t exactly a lie. I was feeling sick. I kept thinking about that fire last night. About what would have happened if Logan hadn’t put it out. Gage wouldn’t be here right now—he’d be in the morgue—or at the very least in a hospital totally disfigured. In either case it would have been my fault—that was something I couldn’t deal with.
“Well I’m glad you’re better,” he said, moving in close to me, since it was hard to hear through blaring music. “I wanted to talk to you about last night …”
“Uh, last night?”
I could feel the blood draining out of my face. I thought he wasn’t supposed to remember last night, the fire and everything.
“Yeah, me and Addison—we broke up,” he said, sounding as though he thought he was telling me this for the first time.
He looked around, then spoke kind of confidential-like. “ Addison’s been calling me though—she wants us to get back together, but...I don’t know. I kind of wanted to talk about it with you.”
He always does that. Whenever he has a problem with his girlfriends he comes to me, like I’m this vast vessel of knowledge, full of wisdom. Why he holds my opinion in such high regard I have no idea. He’s had a lot of experience with romance and relationships. I pretty much had nothing.
Still, it didn’t look as though he was going to get a chance to talk it over with me tonight. The other band just finished, and his was up next. I was just going hang around long enough to hear a couple of Gage’s songs, then leave.
“We’re up,” Gage said. “But will you stick around and talk to me? The stuff I have to say—it’s kind of important...to me anyway.”
I bit my lip, then nodded. I felt bad lying, but his band was waiting for him, and if I told him I was leaving he was going to try talking me out of it. It would have turned into a major discussion and he didn’t have time for it—neither did I. I wanted to leave, kind of bad. Besides, I didn’t want to put Gage into any more jeopardy. He seemed really fragile to me now—he’d died twice already.
“Okay,” he said. “So I’ll talk to you after the set.”
He started to walk away, but then didn’t. Instead, he turned back towards me. “The first song we’re doing is called, ‘Maybe.’ It’s that song I started at your house the other night...I wrote it for you.”
My heart gave a gigantic thump.
Gage turned, making his way up to the wooden platform to gather with his band, and I was left with my heart soaring, watching him go. He wrote me a song! I tried as hard as I could not to romanticize it, but it was hard. To me it was an incredibly romantic thing to do.
“This first song is called ‘Maybe,’” Gage announced into the microphone. Everyone quieted, eager to hear. He scanned the crowd a moment until his eyes rested on me, then he raised his eyebrows and grinned, melting my heart.
Gage started to play and it was the same pretty music he played up in my room the other night, but I didn’t even get to hear him sing before the word “Michaela” was murmured in my ear. Surprised, I turned towards the sound, but no one was there.
Gripped with dread, I glanced around the crowded room. Finally, I spotted Logan watching me from the doorway. For a moment he simply stared, then nodded his head, gesturing like he wanted me to follow him. I didn’t want to go, not at all. I wanted to stay and hear Gage’s song. But I didn’t feel I had a choice. I didn’t want a weird scene happening and Logan could do anything. When he did that whispering thing, I swear, it was like he was right beside me. I could feel his breath on my neck.
Logan led me up the stairs. Then, without a word, he took my hand and guided me, pushing his way through the crowded mob to an empty room. His hand was soft and warm, his gentleness surprised me, but all I could think about was Gage. How I was missing his song. I didn’t even care if Logan planned to kill me—sacrifice me to his demon god—I just wished I could have heard the song first.
“I’m not going to kill you,” Logan said through clenched teeth. “Why do you think things like that?”
“I don’t know—maybe because you keep making threats like that.”
He grabbed my wrists, “I never threatened to kill you.”
He backed me against the wall, his dramatic green eyes glistening with anger, making my heart race with fear. “But you want to hear your boyfriend’s song that badly? It’s that important to you? I could take your life and all you’d care about is hearing his song?”
“No—I—” His sudden anger baffled me. It came from nowhere. One minute he was taking my hand, gently guiding me through the party, next he had me backed against a wall.
“Let go of me,” I balked, trying to push him away. He was frightening me. I’d never seen him so angry. “You’re hurting me.”
“I’m hurting you?” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re killing me.”
For a moment his grip tightened, and I thought he was going to rip my arms out of their sockets, but then he let me go, backing away. “Michaela, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Too late,” I said under my breath, rubbing my wounded wrists.
“Yeah. Sorry.” He took another step away. “I keep hurting you. I don’t even know why.”
Because you’re psychotic, I wanted to tell him, but just rubbed my throbbing wrist instead. I didn’t want to start another fight. Besides,
it didn’t seem like I needed to tell him anything—the guy could read my mind. Or at least he could some of the time. After all, that’s what set him off, right? I wanted to hear Gage’s song. I didn’t tell him that. He just somehow knew.
I looked up to find him staring. For a moment, I melted. Ugh! He was sexy hot.
He could have any girl he wanted. It was strange he was so obsessed with me. I wasn’t gorgeous, not by a long shot. If I were a guy I wouldn’t even look at me twice—not when there were girls like Addison and Summer running around—all perfumy and pretty with big boobs. The only thing I even liked about my appearance was my hair—it was long and usually did what I wanted. Still, the way Logan looked at me, it was like I’m a Goddess or something. It made me realize how powerful that ceremony thingy was for him.
“Uh, okay,” I said, feeling awkward. “So you didn’t come to hurt me. What did you come for?”
His eyes never leaving mine, he studied me closely, seeming to be curious of my reaction. “I came to make you remember.”
I tilted my head. “Remember? Remember what? My childhood? You can do that?”
“I can try,” he said, sitting on the bed. “But the thing is, I think it’s your mom that made you forget. Her power was really strong.”
I blinked, then swallowed hard. “My mom?”
He nodded. “She got really strange after your sister died. She turned against the Caldronon. I’m not sure I can undue her spell.”
I wasn’t listening to him anymore. A chill had through me. “Wait. Stop. I had a sister?”
He studied me, looking surprised I didn’t know. “Danielle.”
I repeated the name, trying to remember, but nothing was there. “What was she like?”
“She was really cute,” he said with a smile. “We used to have contests—you and I—to see who could make her laugh. And we’d take for walks all the time—like three times a day. She’d cry if we tried to leave your house without her.”
I felt out of sorts, like I was hearing about someone else’s life, but being told it was mine. I adored the image though, having a little sister, taking her for walks. I longed to remember. “She—Danielle, she died?”
He took a deep breath, looking sad, like the question bothered him. “Yeah...she died.” He was quiet for a moment. I sat watching him, anxious to hear more. I had a sister. That was so incredible. It made me lonely though to think she was here and gone and I didn’t have anything—not even a single memory—to treasure her by.
Impatient, I looked at Logan, wanting him to go on. Until this moment I’d thought of him as my tormentor, a demon creature that wanted to drag me off to hell. But suddenly I saw him differently. He knew me as a child. We took my baby sister, who I didn’t even know I had, for walks together. It was ironic, but this stranger—this walking nightmare—knew more about me than I did. He held the answers to all my childhood questions.
“She was like me? My sister—she had powers like me?”
He shook his head. “No. She wasn’t like you. She was like your dad. She didn’t have any magic.”
The way he said that, so sad and remorseful, made me look up at him, a wave of nausea running through me. “They killed her, didn’t they? The Caldronon killed her because she didn’t have magic.”
He was hesitant, then shook his head, looking uncertain. “I don’t know. Sometimes we have to give sacrifices, but …. Look, she died on her second birthday—that’s all I know.”
It sounded like he was pretty certain though. It just sounded like he didn’t want to admit it—to me or to himself. A shiver of hate ran through me, thinking of the ruthless mob of demons against a defenseless two year old. The thought made me lonely. And mad. It made me want to mourn the murder of my sister—to avenge her death.
Realizing there was no point in pushing him on the subject, I wanted to move on. I’d have to deal with the loss at another time. If there was another time. “And after that—after they killed Danielle—my mom turned against the Caldronon?”
“Yeah.” He was silent for a moment, looking reflective. “Look, I don’t know that much about it. Just that one day she took your family and left.”
I glanced at him kind of side long, sneaking a look. I wanted to study him. In a way he reminded me of Gage—not in appearance so much, but in his mannerisms—the way he moved and talked, the way he was silent for long periods before speaking. It was strange I’d never noticed the similarities before. Suddenly they were uncanny.
Still, he was part of the Caldronon, evil. I had to keep reminding myself of that. For some reason I seemed prone to like him, to trust him. Whenever I let my guard down, I found myself wanting him, imagining we could be friends, more than friends, thoughts that got me hot. But I knew that wasn’t possible. As much as he reminded of Gage, I had to remember in reality he was nothing like him. Gage was good and kind and sweet. Logan was a crazed, demonic, maniac, able to burn my head off. Still, that stuff he was saying about Danielle, it sounded as though he really liked her, and when he talked about her dying he looked so sad. It made me think he had a soul—that he wasn’t just a monster coming to destroy me.
Still, I knew he was messed up. He’d been raised by the Caldronon. Everything he’d been taught he’d learned from them. Any goodness in his heart was meshed with their evil, making him a confusing blend that I knew I shouldn’t trust.
Inside I fought with myself, wondering if I dared ask the question I’d never been able to broach. When I was a child my father once told me my mom died because her heart stopped beating. That’s all he ever said about her death—that she went to sleep and never woke up. He didn’t make it sound like a scary thing. He made it sound good, peaceful, like it was what she wanted. But if she left the Caldronon I couldn’t believe they would let her die in peace. It seemed they would want to punish her—make her pay for leaving.
Finally, I just asked the question. If he didn’t want to answer, so be it, and if he did, I just hoped I was ready to hear it. “How did my mom die?”
He studied me a moment, then shook his head. “Michaela, you’re asking me things I don’t know. I’m part of the Caldronon—yes. But I’m part of you as well. I don’t know everything you do. And I don’t know everything they do either. Unless I’m part of the ceremony, I only get glimpses. And back then, I was just a kid. I don’t know how she died.”
“… Oh.”
I was relieved. At least he wasn’t part of her death. That in itself let me breathe a little easier. It was strange though, learning he only got glimpses of the Caldronon. I got glimpses.
I bit my lip. “So, you said you could make me remember?”
“I’m not sure. I think I can.” He sounded perplexed. “You want me to?”
I sat for a moment, thinking. Everything about my past terrified me—or at least it used to. Actually, most of it still did, but there were parts of it I wanted to remember—parts like my sister. I couldn’t even imagine holding a baby, and yet I had one in my home—I took her for walks. I wanted to remember things like that.
I figured I wanted to remember my mom too—something nice though, not something demonic or scary, something that would leave me feeling good about her instead of afraid.
“Can you make it so I only remember something nice?” I asked, finding myself intrigued by the thought.
“You mean parts?” He nodded. “Yeah. I think that’s all I can do.” He flicked me a look. “I want to make you remember our binding ceremony.”
I bit my lip. “Oh.”
That’s not what I wanted to remember. I didn’t want to remember anything about the Caldronon or their rituals—that was the really scary stuff. Still, I doubted he came here to get my permission. I was pretty sure he was going to do it whether I wanted him to or not.
“Do I have a choice?” I asked.
He shook his head.
CHAPTER 27
Logan took out a powder and blew it in the air above us. It was strange, but the action seemed familiar
. It was as though I’d seen it done before. Where or when, I could only guess—maybe my mom used to do it, maybe I did. In either case, the act was occult and mystifying. It was my first conscious involvement with magic.
The powder he used seemed like magic itself. It was an interesting concoction—sort of light and airy, with tiny, little sparkles flickering through it. Watching the stuff hover above us, gently flowing down, I got an eerie sense of de-ja-vu.
“Give me your hands,” Logan instructed.
I held my breath and obeyed, though I didn’t want to go through with it. This wasn’t what I’d had in mind. I wanted to remember my sister or my mom, something nice, not the Caldronon or its rituals. But Logan promised to leave me alone if I did it. He swore if I let him conjure up our binding ceremony, relive it, that he’d give me space for a while, let me have some time to think.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed. Feeling curiously drowsy anyway, I followed his command without a murmur.
All at once I felt as though I was falling. Startled, I opened my eyes but I was no longer at Stocker’s party. I was in a dark cave—the cave from my nightmares….
… It’s strange, but for some reason I’m not afraid—not even a little bit. Instead I’m eager, excited. Today is my birthday. I just turned seven.
Mrs. Jameson, my piano teacher is here; so are my principal and doctor. Everyone has come to see me—me and Logan. They’ve come to celebrate my birthday. In hooded cloaks, they form a circle around us, chanting words I don’t understand.
The cave is aglow with fire. I’ve never seen so many candles. The leaders had me light some—they had me take an oath. Mommy said when the ceremony is over I’ll be a true member of the Caldronon—I’ll be part of them forever.
Mommy looks so pretty—I love her in her cloak. She smiles at me and I smile back. I look pretty too. I have on a long dark dress mommy made for me and a crown of flowers in my hair. Daddy said I look like a princess; mommy says I am.
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