A Necklace of Water

by Cate Tiernan

  “I’m sorry. Maybe eventually you can work it out with him.”

  “Maybe.”

  The phone ringing made us both jump.

  I went out into the hall and answered it.

  “Clio?”

  Daedalus’s voice made me shiver. He’d never called me before, and I was glad Thais hadn’t answered the phone.

  “Yes?” I wandered into the workroom.

  “Meet me at the cemetery tonight at nine o’clock,” he said. “We’ll do some last-minute practice before tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” He couldn’t mean …

  “Yes, tomorrow. I’ve arranged for the others to meet us at the Source at six. You and I will get there first and set everything up. I’ll come pick you up at four thirty.”

  “Four thirty?” Please let him mean in the afternoon.

  “Before the sun comes up. We have to be ready by daybreak. Understood? I’ll see you at nine.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  That night Daedalus and I went over things I already had down cold. He was excited and even nervous, sniping at me to do everything just so. Finally we were just snapping at each other.

  Daedalus rubbed his hand over his eyes. “This is pointless. Go home, get some sleep. You know it well enough.”

  Damn right I do, I thought.

  “Fine.” I gathered my tools, slipping them into the heavy silk bag I carried them in.

  “Remember, be ready at four thirty,” he said.

  “Right.”

  It was a relief to leave him. I got to my car, half hoping to find Richard lurking in it again. Part of me was dying to see him and part of me never wanted to see him again.

  Halfway home, I realized that what I really needed was a margarita. Yes, alcohol screwed with magick a bit, but I would have just one and then do a spell to clear it out of my system. There was no downside.

  Amazingly, I found a parking spot only two short blocks from Amadeo’s. It felt like I hadn’t been there in ages, and it was hopping on a Friday night. Flashing my fake ID, I got to the bar and ordered a margarita, then took out my cell phone to call Racey to come meet me.

  “Fancy meeting you here.”

  I turned to see Claire leaning against the bar, waving a ten-dollar bill at the bartender. “Two scotch on the rocks!” She faced me and asked, “Would it be ‘scotcheson the rocks’? I never know these things. How’s tricks? You look like someone put you in a blender on ‘whip.”‘

  Since I thought I’d been looking more like myself, this made me frown. I tried to see myself in the mirror over the bar, but there were too many people.

  “Come on, honey,” said Claire, picking up her drinks. “It’s quieter in the back.”

  I followed her through the crowd, unable to see anything except her torn black Ramones T-shirt. In the back room I almost bumped into her when she stopped abruptly.

  “Push over,” she said to someone. “Make room. Look what I found.”

  She suddenly sat down and I saw with horror that she had been speaking to Luc and Richard. Both of them. Together, at this table. With Claire and now me. In a moment, I mentally zipped through the possible consequences of just turning tail and running away.

  Claire smiled at me, and it almost looked like a challenge, though not a hostile one. Richard’s dark eyes were full of alert watchfulness, and I felt a flutter in my chest when I saw him. Remembering what we had done last night—how good it had been …

  And Luc—Luc was looking better. Much better. Nan’s stuff had been working. But the weird thing was … even though his face was closer to normal again, he just didn’t seem to have that same effect on me now.

  I sat down.

  Claire pushed one scotch over to Richard, and he took it and drank. He seemed to be trying not to look at me, but I could feel his tension from where I sat. Luc also seemed hyper-alert, and I felt like a pinned beetle.

  “Hello, Clio,” said Luc.

  “Hey,” I said shortly, trying not to gulp down my margarita.

  “No date?” Richard said, looking innocent. As usual, being the one comfortable with throwing gasoline on a fire.

  I gave him a look that had once made Nan ground me for two weeks. He put on a cheerful smile, so obnoxious and audacious that I had to bite back a laugh.

  “So!” said Claire, rubbing her hands together. “This is cozy! Anyone got any hot gossip?”

  Let’s see, where to begin…. I was working gray magick with Daedalus. Thais broke up with Kevin. And oh, yeah, Richard and I did the wild thing last night.

  Yep, that pretty much covered it.

  “I’ll start,” said Claire, since no one had spoken. “A guyasked Manon out on a date.”

  “You’re kidding!” I said. “What’d she say?”

  Claire’s eyes widened. “I believe she said yes.”

  Richard groaned and covered his eyes with one hand. “Does Sophie know?”

  “Not yet. But I’d give big money to be there when she finds out,” said Claire.

  “Claire,” said Luc.

  “Come on,” said Claire. “This is serious stuff.” Frowning slightly, she blinked and then looked at me. Moments later, Luc’s eyebrows rose, and he also looked at me. I checked Richard: his eyes were locked on me.

  “What?” I asked. “Did I spill something?” I checked my tight cotton sweater.

  Glances passed between the three of them like lightning.

  “Magick’s coming off you in waves,” Luc said quietly. “I just realized it was you. What have you been doing?”

  Was Richard going to rat me out here?

  “Just practicing,” I said offhandedly. “Got my ROA coming up.”

  “Petra says you aren’t doing it,” Luc said.

  Damn.

  He and I looked at each other for several seconds, and without realizing it, I compared his deep blue eyes, so beautiful and expressive, with dark brown ones that made me catch on fire.

  “Thisis interesting,” Claire almost purred, looking from me to Luc and back again.

  I felt Richard’s tension coiling tighter and wondered if they could feel it too.

  “Good for you, Luc,” Richard said. “Save her from herself.” He sounded snide and on the wrong side of angry.

  Luc turned to Richard and his face hardened. “Maybe I should save her from you.”

  Richard scoffed. “Screw you.” He knocked back the rest of his drink in one big gulp, and his jealousy seemed so clear and obvious that I was sure the whole bar could see it.

  “No, Richard,” said Luc coldly. “You’re quite the lady-killer. In more ways than one.”

  Richard’s face tightened and flushed. “You better stop now.”

  “Have you told her yet?” Luc pressed him.

  “Told who what?” Claire asked, leaning forward.

  Luc turned to me. “You said you were doing Richard.” Claire practically gasped.

  “Oh, please,” I said, mortified.

  “Luc, you don’t want to go there.” Richard’s voice was like stone.

  “Has Richard told you why that wouldn’t be a good idea?”

  “You mean, besides all the obvious ones?” I said, trying to save myself with sarcasm.

  “Luc—” Richard said warningly.

  “You’re the thirteenth generation of Cerise’s line,” Luc went on.

  Richard stood up fast, knocking over his chair. “Luc, I swear to God, if you—”

  Luc’s body tensed as if he knew battle was coming.

  “So?” This was all over my head so far.

  “Richard’s family,” Luc said quickly as Richard lunged. Luc leaped out of the way but kept talking. People around us turned to stare. “Richard was Cerise’s baby’s father. He sired your line. You’re relatedto him.”

  My mouth dropped open. I was horribly aware of strangers watching us with interest. In the next second, Richard crashed over the table, furious, his hands going for Luc’s neck. Glasses and drinks went everywhere—my margarita spil
led into my lap, making me jump up. Richard managed to snag Luc’s shirt, popping a couple of buttons off. One hit me on the cheek, hard. Richard had Luc on his back on our table. I could hardly take it all in.

  Richard had fathered the baby Thais and I had seen in our visions, Cerise’s baby. The one she had died giving birth to. That baby had been my great-times-god-knows-what-grandmother. Richard was relatedto me, like a super-great-grandfather or something. And last night he and I had…

  Oh God. Oh, oh, oh God.

  Claire jumped up too. “Boys, boys,” she said, but they continued to struggle. Muttering under her breath, she stroked her fingers down Richard’s arm and onto Luc. Instantly they both sagged, as if their breath had been knocked out of them. They moved in slow motion, turning to glare at Claire, whose lips were still moving, her eyes focused on them. Richard, I was sure, was trying to curse her out but couldn’t form words.

  I stared at them in disbelief. Richard had knownhe was my ancestor and still had come after me. He’d known I’d probably be grossed out, but he hadn’t told me. We’d actually had sexlast night, and he hadn’t toldme.

  “You bastard,” I said with quiet fury, my words cutting through the noise and commotion. I leaned closer to make sure Richard heard me. “How many times are you—going to do me wrong?” That was all I could come up with—I was freaking out and close to tears.

  His eyes took on a look of ravaged pain. “No, no,” he said, his words slow and slurred.

  “Oops! These boys have had too much to drink,” Claire said brightly to our audience. She clapped as if to dispel the onlookers. “Guess I better get them home!” She grabbed Richard’s T-shirt in her fist and hauled him off Luc. He came with her like a rag doll. I was already turning and pushing my way through the crowd.

  I raced out of Amadeo’s, suddenly feeling like the magick and the drink and being horrified was all making me ill. Somehow I made it back to my car, mumbling the words to de-alcoholify myself. By the time I cranked the key in the ignition, I was more desperate to get home than I’d ever been. I backed up to get out of the tight space, and suddenly the right-side passenger door opened and Luc threw himself in.

  Because I wasn’t going to learn to lock my freaking doorsin a million years.

  “Get the hell out of my car!” I snapped, backing up again and easing forward. I was shoehorned into a space only inches bigger than the rental car, and there was no way to peel out and leave Luc in a satisfying cloud of exhaust.

  “Clio, please listen to me.” He sounded pretty normal, as if Claire’s spell had already worn off.

  “Shut up and get out of my car!” I shouted, backing up too quickly and tapping the car behind me. Its alarm started going off, and I swore loudly.

  Lurching forward, I cleared the car in front of me by a hair and finally pulled out into Quarter traffic, which was dense but pretty slow. Someone honked angrily, and someone else swerved. I headed toward Rampart Street to go back uptown, wondering how I could kick Luc out of my car like they did in movies. A satisfying image of Luc rolling in the street, all scraped up, came to mind.

  “I know you’re upset,” Luc said, using a “calm the hysterical woman” voice.

  “You think?” I snarled, taking a turn too fast, making my tires squeal.

  “Slow down before you kill yourself!”

  “I guess it wouldn’t kill you, though, would it?” But I slowed down. Nan would be devastated if anything happened to me. I was the closest thing to a daughter she had.

  I screeched to a halt at a red light and took the opportunity to reach across and pound Luc with my fist. “I don’t know which one of you is the biggest jerk! I hate both of you!”

  Luc winced when I hit him, then gestured at the light. “Green.”

  I slammed the gas pedal down and roared forward as fast as the little chipmunk engine would let me.

  “Clio, listen,” Luc began, sounding so reasonable I wanted to scream.

  “I’m done listening to you, you jackass!” Ignoring him, I wheeled around Lee Circle and raced up St. Charles Avenue. Luc’s eyes were on me, but I stared straight ahead. After several minutes I tried to calm down enough to drive less like a maniac.

  “Are you sleeping with Richard?” Luc’s voice was quiet inside the car.

  “None of your damn business.” My knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

  He’d been expecting me to vehemently deny it and was shocked when I didn’t.

  Tough.

  Finally I turned down Broadway, heading toward the river. I had no idea how Luc would get home, and I didn’t care. After turning onto our street, I went two more blocks, then slammed to a halt at the curb. I leaped out of the car and slammed the door behind me.

  As I rushed toward Nan’s house, the streetlight overhead winked out, casting almost the whole block in darkness. In the split second I paused to look at it, Luc caught up with me. I whirled to face him, knowing that if he grabbed my arms like Richard always did, I would deck him.

  “Go away,” I hissed.

  He put up his hands to show he wasn’t dangerous. “Clio—please—just stop. I’m worried about you. I don’t want Richard to hurt you or lead you on. You don’t know him like I do—he might look like a kid, but he’s one of the coldest, most ruthless guys I know. He makes melook like an innocent babe. I promise, I just want to be your friend now after all the hurt I caused.”

  Luc seemed incredibly sincere—just like he had all the times he’d lied to me.

  I turned and walked away. I had to get up at four fifteen. After tomorrow and doing the spell with Daedalus, I would be able to rest for a while. I wouldn’t have to work hard magick and feel sick afterward. I wouldn’t have to lie to Nan and neglect Thais and Racey and everyone else. Life could be a teeny bit more normal after tomorrow. And I wouldn’t worry anymore about Richard, about Luc, about these people I loved but could never trust.

  “Clio,” he called after me, but I shut out his voice as if he were a siren, calling me to smash my boat on the rocks.

  It was still dark outside. Half awake, I couldn’t see the moon out my window, which meant it was after 3 a.m. Then I realized that it was amazing that I even knew that and marveled sleepily to myself.

  So after three but before dawn. I snuggled down into my pillow, already slipping back into my dream. I didn’t know why I’d woken up. I was so tired, and this was so delicious, this almost-asleep feeling. It felt incredibly good, and—

  Clio was awake.

  We hadn’t shared a dream, had we? I wondered, barely conscious. I lay still, my eyes closed, vaguely wondering what had woken her. My body felt like lead, my arms and legs boneless and weighted down. My bed felt perfect—the sheets were perfect, I was the perfect temperature, and I didn’t have school tomorrow.

  After I dozed a minute, some niggling feeling at the edge of my consciousness told me again that Clio was awake. For no reason, I forced my eyes open and focused. She wasn’t sick, was she? Didn’t sound like it. And everything in me was dragging me back down to sleep, as if—

  As if I’d been spelled, actually.

  This thought made me open my eyes again, and I ran a systems check, wondering if I would recognize a sleep spell. I thought I could—this felt like I was being cradled in a golden web of sleep, and it was drawing me down into perfect, unworried slumber.

  But Clio was wide awake. Why was she awake if I’d been spelled? Had I even been spelled? Thoughts flitted out of my mind like tissue in a wind, sliding away before I could even focus on them. All I wanted to do was drift off again.

  Deliberately I lay still, keeping my breathing deep and even but trying hard not to slip into unconsciousness, no matter how inviting it was. I closed my eyes and concentrated. It came to me that Clio felt nervous or excited or scared. What should I do? Could I even get up? I was afraid to try: if I were bound to my bed magickally, I would freak out and panic.

  Almost silently, Clio left her room and crossed the small landing at the top o
f the stairs. She passed by my half-open door and padded downstairs barefoot. Something told me that everything was fine, everything was all right, that I should just go back to sleep and not worry about it.

  Which made me freak out even more—those feelings were the classic signs of sleep spells, as Petra had described them to me. I fought against exhaustion, blinking again and again, and propped myself up on my elbows, even though being in a coma sounded good right now. Casting my senses, I felt that Petra, downstairs, was asleep herself.

  Which meant that Clio had done this: she’d spelled the house so we would all sleep deeply. But why?

  I need to wake up.

  My sister had spelled me to sleep through something. I forced myself to sit up, even though my arms and legs felt like they weighed hundreds of pounds. Again came that reassuring thought: Everything’s fine, it’s nothing, go back to sleep.

  Clio left the house. I felt her leave, and then I heard the faintest of clicks as the front door closed behind her. I finally thought to look at my clock. It was four twenty-five.

  What in the world was she doing?

  I got clumsily to my feet, feeling dopey and wiped out. I tried to think of a spell to counteract the sleep spell—I was sure there was one; I just couldn’t think of it. Instead I groped my way to the bathroom and hunched over the sink, splashing cold water onto my face.

  That woke me up enough to remember to draw some runes in the air—deigefor dawn, awakening, clarity. Uchefor strength. Seigefor life and energy. Then I muttered:

  Repel the fog that clouds my brain

  Bring me to myself again

  Whatever spell thus binds me so

  I now compel to let me go.

  Within moments I felt myself waking up. I splashed more water on my face, then remembered that Clio had already left. I raced into my room and pulled on yesterday’s jeans and a sweatshirt, then sped downstairs as quietly as I could. I ran into the front room and looked out the window by the front door, knowing that Clio must have left minutes ago, when I was trying to clear my head in the bathroom, and that I had no hope of knowing where she had gone.

  But to my amazement, she was standing in the front yard by herself. She was dressed in dark clothes, and of course her hair was dark, but I had eyes like a cat and could see her outline against Petra’s plants by the fence. What the heck was she doing?