by Skylar Finn
“Suki is a powerful witch,” I said dismissively.
“You’re a powerful witch,” said Tamsin. “I know you don’t have a point of reference, but I keep telling you this for a reason. That’s…a lot.”
I wanted to be cavalier about it, but after my earlier embarrassment over my magical ineptness, I was secretly thrilled. There would be time for jubilation later, however. “I believe you. Let’s get out of here before Magdalena comes back. I’ve had enough questionable tea for the day.”
Tamsin and I agreed that we would leave Lindy up to Suki and Janice, but we would have to tell our family about the source of the mysterious power and how powerful Lindy was. If for whatever reason Suki and Janice couldn’t deal with her, Tamsin seemed concerned that we would need back-up.
“Well, maybe,” she said, looking at me dubiously. “I guess you could always just blast her to smithereens or whatever.”
“I’m not blasting anybody to smithereens,” I said indignantly. “That’s not my style.”
“To be fair, she’s not really a person, technically,” she said. “But I get where you’re coming from. I wouldn’t want to blow anybody up, either. It’s probably better that you have a strong aversion to the idea.”
We went our separate ways. I went to Peter’s, and Tamsin said she was heading to the library for some vague and unspecified school assignment. I was certain this “assignment” involved Cristo, and the library was his apartment, but I carefully shielded my reaction. I could only handle one enemy and obstacle at a time.
Peter wasn’t home yet and I’d just put a frozen burrito in the toaster oven when I heard a voice in the bathroom. A familiar, well-meaning sounding voice; one who was nonetheless appearing in Peter’s bathroom. Again.
“Hello?” The voice called again.
I went into the bathroom. I guess I could have ignored it, like a phone call I didn’t want to answer, but I needed to talk to them, anyway. If I didn’t, they’d just find another way of appearing in Peter’s apartment.
It was Minerva. She was in the mirror, much the way my mother had appeared.
“I’m so sorry about this, dear,” she said apologetically. “I can’t imagine how invasive this is for you. I wouldn’t do it unless it was absolutely necessary. I thought about calling, but I thought you might be with Tamsin and I didn’t want her to know I was checking in on her.”
“That’s all right, Aunt Minerva,” I said. “Is everything okay?”
She sighed. “It’s Tamsin,” she said, looking troubled. “I just can’t shake the feeling that she’s keeping something from me. I know that’s perfectly normal, for a girl to go to college and not tell her mother absolutely everything, but this is different. She’s been secretive and evasive, and it’s not like her.”
“I’ve noticed the same thing,” I admitted. “I think she’s seeing someone.”
“I knew it. I knew it was something like that. I respect her privacy, of course, but I can’t help but feel that if she’s concealing it, there must be something wrong with this person.”
“I feel the same way,” I said. “Something about him bothers me. He’s twice her age and is basically obsessed with her, from everything I’ve seen. And something about him is just kind of hard to pin down. You know? I can’t help but worry that it’s something bad.”
“Will you keep an eye on her for me, Sam?” asked Minerva. “I know you already have a great deal on your plate, and I hate to trouble you by adding one more, but it would really be a huge weight off my mind.”
“Of course I will,” I said. “There’s something I have to tell you, too.”
I filled Minerva in on the events of the afternoon and my conversation with Suki and Janice.
“I’ll have to tell your mother and grandmother about this immediately,” she said. “This is extremely serious for such ancient magic to be involved. We’ll contact you once we’ve discussed it. In the meantime, please don’t try to solve any of this on your own. It would be easy to get in over your head, and you could be killed. I know this Suki asked for your help, which she really had no business doing without knowing your full story, but this is beyond you and Tamsin to solve.”
“Okay, Aunt Minerva,” I said. “I promise.”
“Good.” Minerva vanished from the mirror. I looked at my reflection blinking back at me with confusion. I guess mirror communication didn’t include sign-offs.
The front door opened and I breathed a sigh of relief that Minerva was no longer hovering in the mirror while I talked to her in the bathroom. I guess I could have just pretended I was on the phone, but I hated lying to Peter and preferred not to do so any more than absolutely necessary.
“Sam?” I heard Peter’s voice. I went into the kitchen. He looked apprehensive.
“What is it?” I asked, immediately fearful that there had been another murder.
“What? Oh...no, it’s not that,” he said, reading my expression. “I guess I was just wondering what you were doing this weekend?”
“This weekend?” I racked my brains. Was I supposed to be doing anything this weekend? “Hanging out with you?”
He looked relieved. “Oh, good,” he said. “I was worried you’d forgotten and that I’d look like a tool. Like maybe you don’t keep track of these things and you’d think it was stupid.” He went to the hall closet and took off his shoes.
Forgotten? Forgotten what? What thing was I supposed to keep track of and obviously hadn’t? I frantically flipped through my memory and came up short. It wasn’t Peter’s birthday; that much I knew. What else could it be?
Though I had vowed months ago never to do what I was about to do, I was in a bit of a pickle and didn’t want to mess things up and hurt his feelings. I never, ever used magic to look into Peter’s mind. I felt like it was similar to his phone or his notebooks: his, and therefore none of my business. But this was a little bit dire.
I felt his sense of relief first, followed by an image of a quaint French bistro. Did I forget about French food?
“So I was thinking we could go to that place around the corner, the new one?” he called from the hallway. “I’ve never been, but I’ve never really had a reason to go.” He came back into the kitchen. I tried to keep my expression neutral: inquisitive, but not confused. Receptive, rather than baffled.
“That sounds amazing,” I said brightly, adding, “I’ve been dying to go to that place.”
“Great,” he said, issuing the first genuine smile I’d seen since the whole business with the missing girls and appearing hearts began. “I must have read your mind.” He headed into the bedroom and into the bathroom to take a shower. A moment later, I heard water running as I panicked at the sink.
I had read his mind, and I still had no idea what he was talking about.
Now I had to figure out what was going on Saturday night without asking, keep a closer eye on Tamsin, and--as much as I wanted to pretend that Suki would handle everything and it was the last I’d ever hear about Lindy--potentially prepare for a magical battle with some dark and ominous force. I also had to find a new job before I completely drained my savings account, and I had frankly put zero thought into this in light of the recent rash of murders and ghosts. It was a lot to handle.
To make matters worse, as I stared out the window, pensively contemplating the latest additions to my to-do list, I saw that there were two reflections in the glass: one was my own, and the second was the glowering form of one very angry ghost.
21
The Secret Life of Tamsin
“Forgetting something?” said Bea sarcastically. I glanced over my shoulder. I could hear water running, which meant Peter was still in the shower, but I was getting really stressed out with everyone randomly appearing in his apartment and asking me things.
“This isn’t the best time,” I said in a low voice.
“What would be a good time for you?” queried Bea. “I mean, I have all the time in the world, right? And by the way, you made that up about m
e not being able to come here.”
“I’m working on it,” I said impatiently. “And I just didn’t want you showing up at random and making me look like a crazy person in front of my boyfriend, who obviously doesn’t know that I can talk to ghosts.”
Bea pouted. “Well, I’m sorry if I’m messing with your image, Tamsin’s sister, but this is important to me. One minute, I had the world at my feet, the next—this.” She gestured towards her overall appearance, which frankly seemed no less solid than it had when she was alive, and drifted over to the window, staring pensively at the park below. Her concerns were valid, but I couldn’t help but feel this was part of her brooding artist act.
“First of all,” I said, glancing over my shoulder again. The shower water had shut off and I didn’t know how long I had before Peter emerged from the bathroom. “I’m not Tamsin’s sister, I’m her cousin. Do you even know what my name is?”
“No,” admitted Bea.
“Well, news flash, it’s Sam. Second of all, I don’t have to do anything for you. I could just ignore you and pretend not to see or hear you like everybody else, and then where would you be?”
Bea blanched at the thought of resuming her status as an invisible ghost.
“Exactly,” I said. “So you need to accept that I’m working on this, and you need to go away and leave me alone and give me time to work on it. I will contact you when I have something more concrete.”
“You can do that?” asked Bea.
“Obviously,” I said. To be entirely honest, I had no idea how to contact her when the time came, but I also had no doubt in my mind that I could figure it out. Even if I couldn’t, Bea would inevitably reappear regardless--likely at the most awkward time imaginable.
“Okay,” she said reluctantly. I heard the bathroom door open.
“Now go away,” I whispered. “Or I will never speak to you again.”
To my immense relief, she shimmered out of view just as Peter came into the living room, his hair damp and sticking up, radiating Axe. I looked up with as innocent an expression as possible.
“Go out or order in?” he said.
“Go out,” I said immediately. Preferably before any more “guests” showed up.
I was relieved when Peter didn’t want to talk about his story during dinner. I was at an awkward point where I knew more about it than he did and couldn’t tell him anything. He mentioned briefly that no one had disappeared since Bea and then changed the subject. Unfortunately, he changed the subject to our plans for Saturday. I still had to figure out what he was talking about before he figured out how clueless I was. I also needed to figure out a good way to tail Tamsin without her noticing. Maybe Peter would know.
“Not to change the subject,” I said after Peter mentioned the bistro was normally booked in advance but a co-worker had a cousin who worked there and notified him when a table opened up. “But I have a question about how you would go about surreptitiously following someone you were doing a story on.”
He arched an inquisitive eyebrow. “Are you planning on getting into investigative journalism?”
“I promised Tamsin’s mom I would keep an eye on Tamsin,” I said. “I think she’s involved with that creepy guy who teaches her photography class.”
“That weirdo who sells all the headless body pictures?”
“So you see my concern,” I said.
“Well, yes,” he said. “I’d be worried, too. But do you think that the more you and your aunt express disapproval of him, that maybe she’s just going to become even more determined to see him?”
Briefly, I recalled being eighteen. “Yes,” I admitted. “But it’s kind of too late for that. I just want to know for sure that’s what she’s up to. Right now, I only suspect it, and she won’t tell me anything.”
“I can tell you that the best way to get information on someone is directly from the source,” he said. “You don’t have to be direct or explain yourself. You could pretend to be talking about something else entirely. As for Cristo, have you tried looking him up? I mean, is he even a real person?”
“No, I haven’t,” I said slowly. It hadn’t even occurred to me. After seeing his horrible artwork, it discouraged me from ever wanting to learn anything more about him ever again.
“If you really can’t find out anything that way,” he continued, “then you could try following her. Just know that if you get caught, she’s going to be angry. And it’s going to make it that much harder for you to get any information at all. But it might give you a better idea of where she’s going and what she’s up to when you’re not around.”
“Like secretly seeing Cristo?”
“Anything she might be doing by stealth,” he clarified. “Stuff she might not be willing to admit to you herself.”
Cameron immediately agreed to assist my tail on Tamsin. I knew it was at least partially the fact that it would be an opportunity for him to resume interrogating me on my unexplained connection to Suki and Janice, but it was a given I was more than willing to deal with in exchange for his help. If I thought that Cristo was just a general creep and an inevitable difficult lesson learned, I might have left it alone, but I couldn’t escape the creeping feeling that there was more to him than met the eye. How did Suki know that Lindy was the only Never Was in town? The shrouded figure in black had been large, and Lindy was tiny and slight. Was Cristo even human?
I asked Peter if he wanted to get a drink with Cameron after dinner, knowing that it was the end of the week and he would inevitably want to go home and go to bed. Predictably, he begged off and headed back to his apartment, and I went to South Street so that Cameron and I could begin our reconnaissance on the secret life of Tamsin.
When I got to the shop, I saw that Cameron had arrayed a fashionable selection of black clothing for us to wear, presumably so we could blend in with the night and remain harder to detect.
“Urban camouflage,” he said, sounding pleased with himself. “I’ve never tailed anyone, but I figured this would help us remain more unobtrusive.”
I wasn’t sure dressing in black would be enough to help us remain anonymous while we followed Tamsin across the city, but it was obviously preferable to wearing a neon windbreaker and Uggs. Although anything was preferable to wearing a neon windbreaker and Uggs.
Before I changed, I asked Cameron what he thought about Peter’s big dinner plans.
“Is it your anniversary?” he asked curiously.
“Anniversary?” I said, bewildered.
“When did you meet?” he asked. “Or start dating, or whatever?” He arched an eyebrow at the whatever and I blushed.
“Um, I don’t know, like six months?” It wasn’t exactly love at first sight. I thought he was a jerk. But I thought that about most people.
“Like six months ago, or six months ago Saturday?” he asked knowingly.
“Oh my God.” I raised a hand to my mouth. “This is a big deal.”
“What’s wrong with you? Did you sleep through Girl School, or what?” He laughed at me, slipping a black leather vest over his black Steve Jobs turtleneck. “Even I went to Girl School. I know how to read a calendar.”
“Time isn’t real, Cameron,” I said, thinking of Suki. “It’s an imaginary construct.”
“Please tell me you didn’t buy everything that crazy old bat and her even crazier granddaughter said,” said Cameron. “I swear, if you ever met a cult leader, it would be curtains for you in like two seconds flat. More importantly, what are you going to get Peter for your anniversary?”
I panicked. “I don’t know! I only just found out about it.”
“Calm down,” he said, sensing my mounting hysteria. “Let’s just get following Tamsin out of the way first. One thing at a time.”
We sat in the park across the street from Tamsin’s dorm, facing the sidewalk. We didn’t have long to wait. It was Friday night, and Tamsin soon exited the building. She wore a fire engine red dress and stiletto heels.
“Someone is s
tepping out tonight,” said Cameron approvingly. “She’s meeting somebody illicit, for sure.”
“I knew it,” I said with despair. “Come on.”
We trailed Tamsin at what we felt was a safe distance, remaining about a block behind her. Her bright dress made her an easy target, bobbing along ahead of us in the darkening summer night. I worried about her walking in those heels—and what if she had to run?—but she stopped after two blocks in front of a wine bar and checked her phone. Cameron and I hid behind a planter in front of the bank next door.
We didn’t have long to wait and neither did Tamsin. While I was taking my turn peering out from behind the planter, Cristo swept up to her in his usual all-black ensemble, topped by a tailored black jacket. It was eight thousand degrees outside; why was he wearing a blazer?
“He looks good,” Cameron said approvingly, peeking out from behind the planter beside me.
“He looks insane,” I whispered. “It’s June.”
He glided up to Tamsin and offered her his arm. Even at this distance in the dark, I could see her flush with pleasure. He led her inside. I stepped out from behind the planter.
“Do you think we can get seats at the bar without them noticing?” I asked.
“What will we do there?” he asked curiously. “I mean, besides the obvious.”
“We’ll tail her when they leave to make sure she’s not going home with him, and then if she does, I’ll call her with a ‘family emergency.’” I made elaborate air quotes with my fingers and Cameron closed his eyes briefly, as if I was painful to behold.
“I hate when you do that,” he said.
“Then, once she rushes out of his apartment,” I continued, ignoring him, “I’ll have spared her for at least one more evening from being potentially murdered.”
“What do you think she’s going to do when she finds out there is no family emergency?” he said. “Let alone if she catches us spying on her at a wine bar.”