Silent Circle

by Cassandra Larsen

  “How long do you really expect your relationship to last? He’s graduating this year, isn’t he? What’s he going to do, fix up cars the rest of his life? I can’t see you sticking around and marrying a deadbeat mechanic.”

  “Of course not,” I say flippantly. “I plan on becoming the mistress of some rich sugar daddy and spending the rest of my days in luxury.” I grin at him, not letting him get under my skin.

  “What happened with you guys after Friday’s party? He was pretty pissed off.” One half of Caiden’s mouth turns upwards, like he finds it amusing.

  I smile again, though this one feels forced. “We talked. We made up.” I smirk at him. “I don’t think you want the details.”

  He studies me for a moment, a disgusted look crossing his face. “So, that’s how you deal with confrontation? You whore yourself out rather than having an honest conversation with your boyfriend?”

  I loud crack echoes off the aluminum siding. I turn and look at the huge, circular mirror with a fissure running all the way through it. Turning back to Caiden, I inhale slowly through my nose, like they do in Yoga. He doesn’t know anything about me. He’s trying to upset me. Let it go. I exhale.

  “That was quite a scene you made in lunch today. What happened? Let me guess – your little feelings were hurt because everyone was talking about you? So, to make yourself feel better, you decided to plaster yourself all over the first available guy? Did it work? Did you feel better?”

  Another crack. One of the china plates crashes to the ground. I close my eyes, trying to remain calm.

  “How many guys have you slept with, anyway?” He continues viciously. “Going by the rumors, you’ve already slept with half the school.”

  A large purple elephant bursts into pieces.

  “Screw you.” The words are low, almost a growl.

  “No thanks, I wouldn’t want to catch anything.”

  Caiden jumps as glassware and mirrors shatter everywhere. It sounds like an M16 going off, so many things exploding simultaneously.

  “I’m a virgin, you prick!” A huge glass vase bursts on the floor, showering us in glittering dust.

  He blinks in shock, but quickly recovers, not letting up.

  “But you’re weak. Look at you! A few insults and you’re practically in tears. Get control of yourself!”

  I catch a glimpse of myself in a large, cracked mirror above him. The curls in my hair are hanging limp, the tears in my eyes about to spill over. I grit my teeth and tighten my abs, trying to focus on the area he showed me. My solar plexus. I imagine a bright blue force field in front of it, sucking away my rage and pain. It takes a few minutes before I’m able to meet his emerald eyes without wanting to gouge them out.

  “Better.” His eyes look me up and down, assessing. “So, let’s talk about your father. I hear he’s not around much.”

  I tighten my stomach again and hold my breath. Miraculously, everything stays intact.

  “He left town on your birthday, didn’t he?”

  My whole body clenches and my shield stays up. The hurt I usually feel at the mention of his parental disinterest seems muted.

  “Yes.” I grit out.

  “Ever think maybe it’s because of you?”

  My arms shake with the effort to stay still. I close my eyes again, focusing only on tightening my shield.

  “I mean, you’re not exactly a model daughter. You’re an embarrassment. Partying, staying out all night. Lying. Drinking. Can you blame him for working all the time to get away from you?”

  Inhale. Be calm. Exhale. I scrunch up my face and steal my muscles so hard it hurts. Inhale. Relax. Exhale.

  Slowly, I open my eyes and meet his.

  He rewards me with a brief smile. “Good. Much better. Come on, you need to eat.”

  Chapter 11

  He walks past me and out of the shed without a backwards glance.

  “Eat?” I follow him slowly, confused. After everything he said to me, he expects me to stay here and eat with him?

  He walks through the back door of his house and into a small, neat kitchen, rifles around in the fridge, and pulls out some freshly cut fruit, vegetables and mixed nuts.

  “Eat. You need to replenish your energy.”

  When I don’t sit down, he explains in a patronizing voice, “You used up a lot of energy with the visualization you did today. You need to eat to replace it. The more energy you use, the more food you need, otherwise you’ll get light-headed and shaky. You remember what happened to you Friday morning? I’ll bet you didn’t eat breakfast, did you?”

  I shake my head warily.

  “When you saw those auras, you expended energy. Since you didn’t eat beforehand, it depleted you more than it should have. The exercise you did today takes much more work than simply seeing auras.”

  Glaring at him, I sit down and pick up an apple slice to nibble.

  “You did good today,” he says. “Better than I expected.”

  I don’t answer. His words from the shed keep replaying in my head. I know what most of the school thinks about me. I’ve never let it bother me before. But for some reason, knowing he has such a low opinion of me hurts more than I care to admit. I thought I had thicker skin than that.

  We eat in silence for a couple minutes before I crack.

  “You really believe all those things about me?”

  I stare at my plate and pretend the answer doesn’t matter.

  “Emerson, look at me.”

  Girding myself, I meet his gaze.

  “No. I don’t believe those things. I had to do what I could to upset you. To test you.”

  I look away, embarrassed that I care so much about his answer.

  “I don’t think you’re shallow,” he continues. “I don’t think you’ve slept with the whole school. And I don’t think you’re an embarrassment. I think you’re stronger than you realize. But in order to find that strength, you need to be pushed. If you end up hating me for that...” He shrugs, looking away. “Well, that’s a price I’ll have to pay. But at least you’ll have learned to keep your emotions in check.”

  His answer loosens the knot in my stomach. I eat a little more before I ask my next question.

  “So, I’m really a witch, huh?”

  He coughs a laugh. “Yeah, no doubt about that now.”

  “Does everyone go through this phase? Breaking things when they get upset?”

  “It’s different for everyone. Some people do, others have different parts of their nature that come to the forefront.”

  “What about you?”

  “... Yeah, I went through something similar.”

  “How long did it last? How long before you managed to get control?”

  “A couple of months.”

  I think this over for a bit, trying to decide on my next question. There’s so much I don’t understand. “And what is this whole telepathy thing about? Can I really read minds?”

  “Yes and no. Right now, it’s only just developing, so you don’t really have any control over it.”

  “But I was able to talk to you in class today. Wasn’t that controlled?”

  His face turns grim. “Yes, actually. That was amazing for someone so untrained. But, you were still getting the headaches. And unless someone is ‘thinking’ straight at you the way I was, you aren’t able to pick it up. Although I was surprised you were able to communicate back with me... That was strange.”

  “Strange?” I say, offended.

  “Strange in the sense that I’ve never heard someone’s voice in my head like that...”

  “You can’t read minds?”

  “Not in the way you do. I can pick up on emotions if the person is nearby. But I can only ‘hear thoughts’ so to speak when I’m merging my energy with theirs, like when I heal. And even then, I’m not really hearing their thoughts, more like rifling through memories... Telepathy is pretty rare. Only one other person in the coven is able to do it, but she can only pick up what people around her are
thinking, she can’t project her own thoughts. Not yet, at least.”

  “Are you saying I shouldn’t have been able to answer you back?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He waves away my concern.

  I raise an eyebrow at him, wondering if he sensed my worry. It’s strange to think that he can tell what I’m feeling.

  “Our gifts are all different and they develop at different speeds. For instance, most of us have some level of healing ability, but mine is stronger than anyone else that I know, aside from Caroline.” He shrugs like this is no big deal. “We can’t change what we are, but we can practice to get more control over what we do. And with you, well, you’re a special case.”

  “What does that mean?” My mouth twists.

  He smiles; he knows I’m insulted. “It means that you didn’t develop your abilities until you turned seventeen.”

  “So what?”

  “Most witches develop at thirteen or fourteen. There are some exceptions, but even then, seventeen is unheard of.” He shakes his head, puzzled. “But it’s clear that your abilities are exceptionally strong, and are only going to become stronger and more difficult to control. You have no idea what you’re capable of.”

  “Huh. So not only am I a witch, I’m a super strong witch capable of horrendous acts? That’s comforting...”

  His voice is ten degrees cooler when he answers, “I’m not here to coddle you. I’m here to train you.”

  Jeez, Mr. Warm and Fuzzies over here. I’m about to drop the conversation, but something else occurs to me.

  “So when did you join the coven?”

  “I was initiated at thirteen.”

  “Is that when your abilities started?”

  “No, I didn’t come into them until I was fourteen.”

  “Why did you join the coven at thirteen, then? How did they know you were even a witch, if you didn’t show any signs?”

  “Both my parents were witches. They knew I would be too.”

  “Then how come I’m only just hearing about all of this? I was fourteen when I moved here. Why wasn’t I told then?”

  “Because, we didn’t know what you’d be. Your father’s human. There was a chance that you would be too.”

  “But Caroline didn’t think so? On Friday, when all this started, you thought ‘Caroline was right.’ What was she right about?”

  “She told us to keep tabs on you. She thought you’d be a late bloomer. She said your mother developed late, so there was a good chance you would too.”

  “My mom developed late? How would Caroline know?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “I guess your mom told her that when she asked her to look after you.”

  A thought occurs to me and excitement rushes through my body.

  “Was my mom in the coven? I mean, if you joined it four years ago, you would’ve been in it when we moved here. Did you know her?” Maybe I don’t need to go to back to Caroline at all. Maybe Caiden will have some answers for me.

  My hopes are dashed when he slowly shakes his head.

  “She wasn’t in the coven. Caroline tried to get her to join, but she refused.” He looks at me sadly. “I saw her once. It was shortly after I’d first come into my powers. Your mom came to talk to Caroline, right before our circle. She looked really upset. Frantic.” He shakes his head slightly, a crease between his brows. “Caroline tried to calm her down, but it didn’t work. Elizabeth was too upset. She said some horrible things...”

  “Like what?”

  His eyes scrunch up in thought. “I don’t remember exactly... It was a long time ago. She was yelling at Caroline. Something about needing to run, that she was tricked, that it wasn’t safe...” He rubs his temples. “I don’t know. That’s all I remember. The next morning, we heard that she died.”

  I stare at him in shock. “She was with Caroline?” I shake my head, tears prickling behind my eyes. “I always wondered where she went that night.” I don’t mean to say anymore, but it comes spilling out.

  “I was home alone; my father was out of town on a business trip. I remember watching the lightning, afraid the power was going to cut out, when my mom rushed into the house in a panic. She started tearing clothes out of drawers, throwing them into a suitcase. She said were leaving, that we had to get out... I tried to ask her what was wrong, but she wouldn’t listen, just kept saying that we need to leave, that it wasn’t safe. When I asked her about dad, she said we couldn’t wait for him.”

  My voice cracks, but I keep going, needing to get it all out. I’ve had this bottled up for years.

  “I couldn’t believe she would say that. That she would just leave my dad behind. She dragged the suitcases into my room and told me to be ready as soon as she got back. She said she had to take care of something first. She didn’t tell me where she was going – just drove away.

  “I stayed up all night waiting for her. I sat in my room next to the window, watching the rain, hoping to see her car drive up. But it never did. The next car to pull into that driveway was the sheriff to tell me that my mom...”

  I stop speaking and realize Caiden’s hand is gently resting on my shoulder, his thumb making soothing circles at the base of my neck.

  I close my eyes, absorbing the warmth of his hand on my skin. “I’ve never told anyone about that before…”

  Could I have stopped her somehow? If I called someone, told them about what happened, would they have been able to get to her in time? Is it my fault?

  “It’s not your fault,” Caiden says roughly, answering my unspoken question. “There was nothing anyone could have done.”

  “So you think she killed herself?”

  My voice wobbles. I clear my throat. “I mean, she was scared. She said we were in danger. What if she was right? What if someone was after her, pushed her off that bridge. It was raining, barely light out. The witnesses could have been wrong...”

  “I don’t know, Emerson. The evidence all points to suicide, but I didn’t know her, so I can’t answer that question. Maybe someone was after her; I don’t know.”

  He’s the first person to ever say that it’s possible. That maybe she didn’t kill herself. Everyone else, even my best friend, thinks I’m crazy for not just accepting what the police said and moving on.

  After a few more moments, I move away from him, embarrassed. His hand drops back to his side.

  One thing is clear: I need to talk to Caroline again. She obviously knows more about my mom then she’s letting on.

  “Come on,” Caiden says. “That’s enough training for today. I’ll drive you back home.”

  When we pull up to my house, Caiden stops me before I can get out. “Sebastian and Olivia don’t know where you were tonight, right?”

  “Oh, sure.” I roll my eyes. “I explained to them that I’m secretly a witch and I have to attend anger management classes so I don’t end up killing them or anyone else. They were very understanding.”

  He ignores my sarcasm. “You know you can’t tell them about any of this, right?”

  “Why? Because they’ll think I’m a freak? Yeah, I got that.”

  “No, because you can’t tell anyone, ever. You’ve read ‘The Crucible’ last year in English. You know what’s happened to our kind in history.”

  “The Crucible is a metaphor for the communist witch hunts, not actual witches.”

  “The Salem witch trials were real enough.”

  “Yeah, but they weren’t really witches or devil-worshippers, or whatever. It was about money and lust and power, not witchcraft.”

  He looks impressed.

  “Yeah, I do pay attention in class occasionally,” I scoff.

  He raises an eyebrow at me doubtfully, but doesn’t comment on that.

  “Witches are not devil worshippers,” he says seriously. “That’s a bunch of lies made up by the Church. But the witch hunts were real; they lasted hundreds of years, killing tens of thousands of men, women, and children. Our ancestors survived it by hiding. That�
��s the only reason we’re alive today. But just as we survived, so have our enemies. The only way for us to be safe is to stay hidden. You can’t tell anyone what we are. If you do, you risk the lives of the entire coven.”

  I search his face, waiting for the punch line. “You’re telling me that there are witch hunters in town waiting to burn us at the stake?”

  “No,” he admits. “I don’t think any of our enemies are in town, but, then again, who would believe that there’s a whole coven of witches here? You never know, and it’s not a risk we’re willing to take.”

  I take in his somber expression. “For the record, I think you’re a little bit paranoid.” I hold my thumb and forefinger close together to illustrate my point. “But I won’t say anything. I have enough going on right now without having to worry about my best friend trying to lock me up in a mental ward.”

  Now I just need to figure out how to keep Sebastian and Olivia from finding out.

  Chapter 12

  “What happened to your eye?” I gasp, climbing into Sebastian’s car the next morning.

  “What?” He reaches up carelessly and touches the faint purple bruise on his face. “Oh, that. Nothing, just messing around with Josh.”

  “Josh? I thought you had that dinner with your dad and James?”

  “Yeah.” He looks away. “Josh was there too.”

  My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Why?”

  His eyes flick to mine and back to the road nervously. “Because James is Josh’s dad.”

  “What?” I have a hard time reconciling the suave, urbane man I met with Josh: loud, rude, stoner Josh.

  Before I can say anything else, Sebastian changes the subject. “Do you have any plans after school today?”

  “No,” I answer warily. “Why?”

  “Well, Bobby said he’s gonna be around today, if you wanted to stop by...”

  “Car shopping?” All thoughts of James and Josh fly from my head. “Absolutely! Does he have anything good?”

  “Maybe. We’ll see later.” He grins at me.

  “Yes!” I lean over, hugging him excitedly. “I can’t wait!”